Half-Life NPCs (
smelltheashes) wrote2010-11-19 09:06 pm
Looking Down
The door opens from Milliways onto a chill evening somewhere in a vast and open space. "All right," says Shephard. "We're a good few miles outside'a what used t'be Fort Collins here. Doin' our best to build up our lines 'fore the big throw-down. Iffen it turns out you can't git yourself hidden, that's all right by me, I'll just take you back to Milliways. How's the place feel?"

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Not that anyone can tell from the helicopter, because the thing is busily assessing the overlapping armored scales of the unknown intruder lifeform and determining what's likely to be the best weak points for aiming.
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Her scales are pretty uniform in strength, but they've never been tested against the kind of weapons the chopper is using.
"[I need to cripple it, if there's to be any hope of us getting out of here alive.]"
Translation: Dear Manny, I'm going to have to go get up close and personal with the chopper while carrying you in one set of claws.
She changes her angle of flight slightly, getting into position for a fast dash inside the helicopter's guard.
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(The helicopter pilot is incapable of surprise, having been surgically implanted with all kinds of Combine technology that took the place of that portion of his brain and endocrine system. But if he could be surprised he would be thinking: what the hell is that creature doing? It's not seriously going to try to ram me, is it?)
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Kreyu lets out a bone-shaking, teeth rattling roar and stoops on the chopper like an enormous hawk going after prey.
It's hard to get a nose mounted weapon in the proper firing position when something is descending on you like that, unfortunately for the pilot.
Her maw is filled with terrible sharp teeth, teeth that can rip through even the thickest armor as if it was tinfoil. She darts close to the whirring chopper, and sinks her teeth into the back half of it.
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Unlike helicopters, the Warthog has wings. It was designed for stability, not maneuverability.
Nothing in the hunter-chopper's design specifications has ever included the possibility of having a chunk torn out of it by a massive lifeform close enough to disrupt all the delicate balance of forces acting on the chopper and the air around it. All it takes is one good shake of Kreyu's head to send the thing spiraling in very horrible patterns, sans a massive chunk of its tail.
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Just to make sure of the kill, her razor sharp tail cracks around like a whip, knocking the dying machine even further off kilter.
Keeping up her bestial act, she moves to flee with her "prey", a predator that's decided that the vultures and jackals are annoying enough that it would be better to go eat elsewhere.
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She spits, the taste of Combine technology lingering in her mouth. "[Bleck! Those things taste terrible!]" she grumbles.
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Plastics, possibly, or something weirder. "[You didn't get hurt, did you?"] she inquires. "[I've never tried to fight while carrying a human before.]"
Humans are so terribly fragile in comparison to her or her brood-mates that she can't help but worry.
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Who will be waiting for them, not pacing but giving the impression that he would very much like to, when the dragon and her human companion finally return.
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Kreyu makes a graceful landing, and carefully sets Manny back on the ground. She turns to Shephard, "We acquired the information successfully, although there was a complication."
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"Will do," says Shephard, and turns to Kreyu. "Shit. What kind of complication? You need a medic or anything?"
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"It was too fast for us to flee safely, so I was forced to deal with the thing in melee." Carrying Manny, poor fellow.
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"I do drink beer," she replies with a smile. "And it's been a while since I've had some that was worth the name."
Atlantis tends to produce far more wine than beer, considering the climate.
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