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Madeline Volkov last won the day on January 21 2019

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About Madeline Volkov

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  1. Sounds like you might have an idea in your noggin, Nina, but I'm going to drop a thanks, too. Twus fun running and gunning with my Sister of Battle through the cramped guts of a space ship.
  2. So many questions and no time to have them answered or question the fortuitous solution to her dilemma. "Do it. We have ground to cover if we're going to make it back to the airlock in time," Madeline replied easily before letting go of the cord to her antimatter pod and sprinting for the exit to the space. She kept one eye behind her as she hit the first corridor, long training steadying her footfalls in the disheveled ship. The sight of the first closed hatch in her way made her frown, adding seconds to their run for each and every barrier between them and the airlock, closed during their hunt to warn them, now hindering their progress. She hoped that Anna could keep up without help, because with her having to stop and pull every single door open... This was going to be far far too close for her taste.
  3. Okay, Anna sounded like too much of an idiot to be a mastermind plotter. That ruled out one problem. "Something like that," responded the Legionary flatly, "Even if everyone your shadowbroker deals with is a saint, letting you walk away with that much antimatter guarantees me a court martial at best if I get back alive. But I made your employer a promise, and a Legionary keeps her word. Five out of seven alive and whole isn't a bad deal." Those zombie bastards in her squad better appreciate this. Her parents were starting to ask when she'd settle down and start a family, anyway. Assuming she could with how low her Rep would be when this got out on the optimistic possibility she got back to Luna in more or less one piece. She relaxed somewhat, still holding the cylinder in place, "And that lid would look like..?"
  4. That... was a lot of antimatter. And raised a lot of questions Madeline wanted answered before she'd let a bunch of Apostates run off with it. Anna couldn't see the Protectorate Marine's face, but her voice hardened to match her frown, "You knew this was here. How? And more importantly, what guarantee do I have your... 'employers' won't use it to do harm to the people I've sworn to protect at the cost of my own life, Apostate?" Given the other woman's hacking prowess, here and now was the only chance she'd get an answer to her satisfaction, to assuage herself that the price of survival wasn't putting hundreds of thousands of lives at risk if so much as one spoofed AR signature made it past the Legion. Here and now? All it would take was one punch and a final leap of faith.
  5. The Protectorate Marine frowned behind her helmet, really wishing there was a decent AR matrix running so that Anna could have passed her more precise directions, but needs must. Hands steady enough to pick off a target a kilometer out reached out to catch the swinging cable as it came around, magnets in her boots securing her in place. Anna was the combat engineer in this situation, and she hadn't gotten this far in life doubting that the combat engineers knew their business. At least when it came to keeping a ship alive. Guess she was fighting an electrical fire now. Thunk. The cable was caught half a foot above the cylinder, it's momentum bleeding off like a metronome until the motion was small enough to let her free hand shield it's orbit. "Done," she monotoned over the radio.
  6. Madeline had been through enough damage control training to recognize that blue generally equaled electrical arcing and that electrical arcing equaled bad, especially in an unknown ship. That realization galvanized into imedaite concern as she heard Ana stir, thoughts for where exactly on the line between Protectorate and renegade they stood. Things were very, very simple when space was the great enemy and your own systems only a tick behind that in danger. Get the potentially injured person out of the space. *Then* come back with the right gear to contain the disaster. "Ana, we need to clear the space and make sure you're okay. Can you move?" she vocalized through her coms, extending one hand towards the Apostate, ready to heft her up and carry her if needed. She kept one eye on the sparking potential disaster in progress, hoping her armor would be enough to keep her mobile if something exploded.
  7. Huh. This is now apparently going to be a thing. Well, it's been fun, guys...
  8. Dizzy but conscious, Madeline pulled her pistol and swept the room for threats, trying to shake off whatever had hit them. She sucked in a breath as she spotted the smashed remains of the spider bot's torso. God willing, that'd mean the thing would stay dead long enough to be disposed of safely. There certainly were enough pieces of the thing scattered about to put even the most robust drone down. Still. This thing was an autonomous drone? Renegades able to field squads and legions of these things? She shuttered to think it. It would be another war. Having ensured that the scene was safe as she could on short notice, she made her way over to Anna's limp and beaten form, feet clunking solidly into place as the magnets re-engaged with each step. The protectorate marine knelt by the other woman, and started looking her over for worse injuries than bruising, thoughts running through the slightly more complicated procedures of military first aid when you might not know if your fellow soldier had a pulse or not. "Volkov to All. Robot down. Anna down. What's going on up there?" she put out over the radio, hoping that link was still up and running.
  9. The power-armored marine froze in place, featureless visor giving nothing away as she processed the thought of hundreds of nanite-forged drones pulling themselves out of the hull like fungi if this thing had managed to kill them, leaving the ship with just enough internal workings to slam into another colony and repeat the process anew. Eventually she managed to suck in a breath and get her mental feet back under her. Damned Apostates. "Try and finish up your examination quickly then. We're chucking this thing out an airlock at the nearest star before it repeats that trick if you don't mind," Volkov replied softly, shifting her grip on the spear so that it's shimmering bladed tip was pointed back at the murderous drone.
  10. Volkov waited a heartbeat or three, just in case the thing was waiting for Maverick to withdraw her swarm before rising, magnetically clipping her rifle to her back as she dropped her cloak and shimmered back into full visibility. Out came the spear from her belt and a faint series of clacks presaged it's extension to it's full length. The armored redhead took a reverse grip on the polearm, ready to use it as a lever to force the zombie onto it's ruined stomach. Before she got to that bit of physical labor though, she prodded the synth's neck with the butt of the spear as one last precaution, finally relaxing enough to speak aloud, "If this... thing has a chip like I think it does, I'd like to take it back with me when I go home. This creature and it's brood need to face Coalition justice. That okay with you?"
  11. Even as she asked the question, Madeline reloaded her rifle and noted the likely spots where a combat synth would likely have a back up system. That had been too easy. No way this godless shell was dead in just 2 shots from her weapon. Much as she'd like to claim otherwise, somethings wouldn't die that easily to anything less than a heavy frame's primary armament. No. In the case that you lacked something like that, you needed to take steps. You double-tapped. Madeline pulled the trigger at an intact looking potential back up system on the unmoving shell and let the vibration echo through the hull. You triple-tapped. Madeline pulled the trigger at an intact looking potential back up system on the unmoving shell and let the vibration echo through the hull. You quadruple-tapped. Madeline pulled the trigger at an intact looking potential back up system on the unmoving shell and let the vibration echo through the hull. The Protectorate Marine frowned as she ran out of targets on the robot's ventral side. Damn it. If the zombie was playing dead, it was playing dead really really well, and she'd have to walk over there and flip it over to finish her six-fold vengeance against it. That had been too easy.
  12. The creature froze in place, held upright on it's collection of mismatched limbs, and that moment of apparent hesitation from the abomination allowed her that extra few hearbeats needed to sink deeper into the now and bring her weapon back up it cycled into firing readiness once more. Inside her helmet, Madeline timed her breathing to negate it's affect on her steady, gentle trigger pull, weapon tip locking in the wound she had already inflicted on the zombie's shell. As lightning blessed the projectile towards it's target with divine wrath and the brutality of raw momentum, the Protectorate Marine caught sight of Anna's swarm of espers and came to an instant conclusion as to the 'why' of the monster's hesitation. If Anna had the eyes to see through the armor's cloaking effect, she would have seen Volkov nod her chin slightly in thanks, even as the round impacted and the marine started to ready another shot.
  13. No gravity to gravity shifts were old hat to Madeline, less so her target tracking her movement even as it got to it's feet. Well, shit. She'd have hoped for her cloak to buy herself the opportunity to take her time on at least on shot. Hopefully her sole-remained back up proved more competent than she had so far. For a heartbeat she considered switching her weapon to it's silenced setting, but the vision of this zombie's sibling tearing through her entire squad without a scratch buried that idea before it could give it's birth cry. Better a dead Gingersnap than a live monster. She swung up her heavy rail rifle, inhaled and snapped off her shot, the hypersonic slug exploding towards her target, blue eyes tracking it's progress behind her featureless helmet and cloaking field.
  14. "Engaging mag traction system," whispered Baba Yaga in Madeline's ear, the soles of her suit adhering to the deck as the magnets kicked into life. This was bad, if they lost the Atraxia she was in an even worse scenario then she started with. well, not entirely worse. Her team was hopefully already readjusting into their new sleaves as she thought, and if this was a bug hunt on an out of control ship versus an overpowered zombie and only two renegades for back up... Well, she'd expected to die to the blade or the bullet. Best to go to hell with an empty rifle. "Lord, my mind, body, and soul belongs to Thee. If it is Your plan that I am to die, guide my mind and body that I may end one more abomination in service of Your flock," she offered in a whisper too quiet for the mikes in her helmet to pick up. "I'm making my way back to you two. Try and find out where the hell it got in so we can go kill it," she offered over the comms, already beginning her stalk, infravision illuminating her path as debris from the looted workshop bounced around her, rifle ready to fill her target with holes if she caught so much as glimpse of it from the corner of her eye. Long engrained training guided her every move through the tumbling ship, reflexes keyed to combat in tight spaces.
  15. Madeline hated boarding new classes of ship. No matter how much you studied before hand, the noises they made were always strange and potential signs of something broken that she didn't recognize. Let alone when they were... quiet. A ship had a soul in it's own way beyond any AI installed in in, and when they were running dead, vibrations and lights and heat down or off, that soul always felt wrong, her combat instincts kicked up that extra notch. At Jericho's announcement, off went up and up went the light screen camouflage, Yaga triggering the IR modules without a word and washing the world in shades of dull red. "Roger. Do either of the spaces ahead dead end on us? Last thing I want to do is corner this thing before you two can arrive for support," the Coalition Marine breathed over the coms, rifle at ready position and sweeping the passage ahead of her. Oh, the irony in which she was playing the forward heavy to a group of Apostates.
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