#solgunslinger

@solgunslinger

Ordinarily, Toaster would have told a Guardian asking him for assistance to go and locate the nearest garden centre, find the largest cactus they sold, and utilise it for locating their g-spot. He’d come to find their tendency to try and drag him into their odd jobs rather perturbing.

Sol was different though. Toaster liked Sol. So when she had proposed he help with a task she’d been given, it was only with slight reluctance he agreed. It annoyed him it would be helping the higher ups of the city, but he relished the opportunity to fight alongside her. Particularly against those big, ugly, naked mole-rat looking Cabal. He sat in her Jumpship, making final checks to his weapon systems, attaching his supplemental armour, and performing a few stretches. Something made him pause however, and he turned to observe the planet they were approaching. He squinted, before letting out an audible groan.

“Aww fuck. Mars? Seriously? No one told mentioned going to Mars. I fucking hate Mars.” Toaster remarked, moving up to the cockpit to slump beside Sol. “Nothing good ever happens on that shit-hole and its always populated exclusively by cunts no matter what universe I go to.” The Cyborg informed her. It was less his usual grouchiness, and more a tone of genuine exasperation and displeasure. 

“ It most certainly is! For all the activity that took place on Venus, it surprised me to find an undamaged music player. A little Arc got it charged, and this was the first song it played. Seems to fit you, I think. ”

“It always surprises me how durable technology can be, even after centuries of dust and neglect.” Without speaking it, the exo considered herself among those things as well. Battered and worn, but still continuing to press on. Maybe that song did sound a bit like her after all...

i got bored and decided to draw the entire two (2) interactions krism has had w/ other guardians 

        Blue hues search her features, her voice doesn’t sound as calm as he wants it to be - that much is obvious as Ghost is tucked into the rubble and hands grip at his own cloak. Tearing it effortlessly into strips for use in stemming the flow. Or at least attempting to. With the Light as their means of survival this long - Kaz doesn’t remember much about actual wounds with the threat of death if something goes wrong. 

        Gritting his teeth through the pain and blood sat beneath his own armour, the Nightstalker doesn’t even attempt to speak or sign in his friend’s direction as the material is nudged against the wound - pushing Sol’s own hands away in favour of the patch of already mangled and damaged fabric. Teeth bury themselves in his bottom lip as blue eyes dare to twitch upwards and take the woman in. 

        Please be okay.

@solgunslinger

Douglas was wearing a Santa hat. His armor had been repainted an aesthetically pleasing mixture of reds and greens with yellow detailing, so that it looked less like a fighting suit and more like Christmas gift wrap hardened into bulletproof ceramics. Trisecting his T-visor was a red nose that faintly glowed.

He was also carrying a full combat load.

His holiday ministrations had been interrupted rather rudely by critical intelligence that the IMC’s ARES Division was working on... something. A weapon of some type, built of almost undecipherable alien technology, manufactured for one thing and one thing only; destroying Christmas.

Various Frontier colonies celebrated various holidays, but Christmas had really gained traction, thanks to commercialism sometime in the late 19th to early 21st century. It was a big target, with a massive attack surface - the perfect test for a conceptual weapon. And there was evidence, too, that it had already worked; apparently a smaller holiday called Festivus had been erased.

Douglas had never heard of Festivus before.

The metal pole standing in the Monaco’s hangar bay, without rhyme or reason, was what convinced him. Looking at it bestowed upon him an unthinkable sense of dread; and the intelligence given indicated ARES planned to fire the weapon again in 24 hours. The concept of Christmas would be removed from the collective conscious. Holiday cheer would disappear. People would turn mean and evil - exactly what the IMC wanted. Divide and conquer.

And so there he sat, in Christmas armor, wearing Christmas accoutrements, carrying an assortment of high-powered automatic weaponry, and sitting across from the 6-4′s favorite space zombie as the Crow they were in flew low and fast across the icy plains of Planet Who. ARES was on red alert; they were waiting for so much as the slightest intrusion into their airspace, but unfortunately they were only looking up into one part of the sky, making it trivial for the Monaco to sidle up to Who’s far side and for the Crow to make a jump as close to the target area as they could.

They had been travelling for about an hour already, with another 15 minutes of time expected.

There was no time to alert the Militia. There was no room for anyone else. This was going to be a fast and hard stealth raid. And the fate of Christmas lay at stake.

@solgunslinger 

It was a mostly quiet day. The Predators had split up to complete a couple of high-paying jobs close together and pool the bounties after regrouping. Melissa had already completed her job, just providing escort for something ARES found in an archeo-dig on a contested Frontier world, as well as supplementing local IMC forces.

With those done, she was now laying low in a safe house she had set up before hand, waiting for pickup. The perimeter was secure, food and ammo were stocked, and her Titan was undergoing the final minor repairs by the MRVNs in the garage. With nothing better to do, she was idly watching something on the local network while dancing a bullet in between her fingers absentmindedly.

Out of nowhere, there was a blinding flash coming from one of the back rooms, before it suddenly dissipated as quickly as it came. Quickly grabbing her sidearm, Melissa went to investigate. She came across the door that lead to one of the spare sleeping quarters, and found smoke emanating from within. Opening the door, she quickly went about clearing the room, until she came upon what looked to be a person with some outlandish garb. She could only think of one thing to say.