Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20160112193412/@comment-5543592-20160115001442

8 years ago…

A sole rowboat floated in the Pacific Ocean, miles off the coast of California. It was manned by a full crew, all of whom rowed in the perfect unison of a skilled team.

“The hell did the boss come out this way anyway?”   Asked one rower, grunting as he tugged the gigantic oar.

“Does it matter?”   Replied a second on the bench to his right. “He’s paying, which is what makes him the boss.”

The Boss in question stood at the boat’s bow, one foot on the prow like some kind of conquering general. He wore a suit of power armor, the T-51b model, and no one bothered to ask how he got such equipment.

They rowed on, crossing the quiet oceanic waters. There was very little radiation out here. The missiles had struck fair away and radiation had dispersed over the ocean’s surface, and then was scattered.

Eventually, the Boss held up his hand. “Stop.”   He ordered in the crackling voice of a man wearing power armor.

The rowers did so, raising their oars. The row boat glided to a halt. The sea was empty for miles around.

One rower looked to a second. “What did we come-“

The Boss jumped. He leapt off the boat, over the water, and sunk.

The rowers blinked. “Do we wait here?”   One asked “We better. He hasn’t paid us yet!” The Boss dropped quickly through the dark, murky water. The suit was biometrically sealed- he’d have long air supply and be safe against radiation down here. That was good, because where he was going was probably rather irradiated.

The ocean’s floor came into view, rather plain with little life, and he landed against the sand with a muted thud. He looked up at his goal.

The wreckage of the Poseidon Oil Rig stretched before him. Massive, and enveloping, it stood out against the dark depths of the ocean. Twisted, gigantic metal struts lay, leading up to a slanted and smashed platform, torn and ripped by explosives. His helmet’s spotlight flicked on, a small, yellowish beam in the enveloping blackness of the ocean. He advanced towards the wreckage, spotlight dancing across the floor as his head swayed, and he came to a halt once he reached its base. He stared up at the ruin, before using the jets he’d built into the armor to shoot him up towards a hole in the main platform. He sailed through it, and entered into the rig’s proper. Where he landed, the area around him shaking and vibrated as his weight smashed down, had once been a hallway, now turned on its side at a slant. He proceeded down it, and conferred with the map he had, bringing the image of it up on his HUD.

“Bit of a shit hole.”   He muttered as he walked down the hall, steadied himself by running an armored hand along the wall as he moved. He entered into what had once been an elevator shaft, and leapt down it. He plummeted quickly, and landed with a crash on the ruined elevator at the bottom. In response, the entire wreckage shook and groaned. The Boss glanced up warily.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Didn’t sound good.”   He muttered, proceeding forward among the creaking ruins. Rusted steel and iron hung about as he traversed through the smashed hallways. He lifted rubble aside with motorized-servo enhanced strength, and kept moving, proceeding through the hallways of this level, until he saw the sign that signified he was where he wanted to be.

<p class="MsoNormal">Presidential Level

<p class="MsoNormal">The Boss pressed on through the hallways, past rotted, rusted corpses of men in black armor, entering into the room he wanted to be in. He proceeded past the terminal- once, its secrets would’ve been invaluable. Now, it was junk. Instead, he headed straight to a rusty brewing tank, unspectacular in appearance. <p class="MsoNormal" style="border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt; padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">He frowned. Needs power.    Main electric systems would be fried, but the copper in the wires was likely still good. He approached the wall behind the tank and smashed a cupped hand against the wall. He dug his fingers in and tore the steel plate clean off, revealing rows of wires inside. He selected which one lead to the brewing tank, and ripped that one from its cord. He pulled off a plate of his own armor, revealing the servos and motors underneath, and coiled the frayed edges of the wire to them. Immediately, the water hummed and buzzed with electricity. He’d have been fried, had he not been in the armor. The tank started bubbling, and he could hear other, louder bubbling in the next room. He proceeded across the room, trailing the wire with him, and approached the terminal and its desk. Inside one of the desk drawers, he removed a simple glass vial and a rubber stopper, before returning to the brewing tank. He put the glass vial to the tank’s nozzle, and flipped the switch for the tank to release some of its contents. Instantly, the vial filled with a vile, green liquid. The Boss quickly shut off the tank once the vial was filled, and he corked it with the stopper. Then, he made his way out of the wreckage. <p class="MsoNormal">The rowers sat by idly, growing bored.

<p class="MsoNormal">“How long has it been?”

<p class="MsoNormal">One of them checked a watch. “20 minutes.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Not that long.”   Said another.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Underwater? That’s a while, even if his armor was all fancy, he definitely-“

<p class="MsoNormal">The water beside them exploded as a figure in a suit of Power armor came shooting out of it, powered by jet turbines on the armor’s back. He crashed down onto the rowboat, causing the boat to shake violently and sink down for a few inches. It came dangerously close to swamping, but recovered.

<p class="MsoNormal">The rowers all stared at the Boss, standing at the boat’s center.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Take me back to shore.”   He simply ordered. They did so.