“Magic--that's just a label, you know. Completely meaningless. It wasn't so very long ago that people were saying that electricity was magic.”
― Robert Bloch, Psyco
After the heart pounding encounter at the gate Jace expected the first step he took into the junkyard post curfew to be contested by something, his addled mind conjuring a rogue bot or some psycho waiting for him to make a wrong turn. Basically any sort of encounter that would end with him face up under the dirt, assuming he got a burial that is... At least he still has the Spider Drill with him. How long these last is sort of up in the air though. He's seen them go kaput anywhere from an hour to roughly half a day depending on how much heavy duty it has to pull… or if it gets ripped apart by a Hound or one of the other damn creatures that wander the scrapyard. With any luck he'll get his credits worth today though, "can't afford to replace it so It better hold up."
Moving through the yard at night is certainly dangerous but the ambient humming of the Aether stacks overhead is what's playing hell on his mind. Pushing through the hazy fog of his head as the pills do their terrible work. Preventing him from overthinking-or doing much thinking at all really-is probably half the reason he came out here. Picking up and taking the nerve suppressants is a bit of a necessary evil though, hard to use the one good thing he got from his Bio family-his mind- when it’s wasting time conjuring trivial shit he has to worry about. Or freaks from the past. "Anything that gets rid of that fat ghost bastard Barry is good in my book, credits be damned."
Reassessing where exactly he is in the yard at this point is a little difficult, well traveled scrapper he may be but when the nature of the yard is changing as its treasures are plundered and new rubble is dropped off...every week it can get a little disorienting. Taking a moment to climb up what looks to be a heavily damaged mobile weapons platform Jace surveys his surroundings checking for marks left by other scrappers, or anything landmark-wise to orient himself. “I’m at the site from a few weeks ago, nothing worth picking up on the way…” muttering to himself he peers over the remaining metal its the work of a moment to catch the dull green glow in the distance, an eerie sight no matter how often he sees it. Recent drops-good ones anyway- always have a bit of residual Aether leaking out of the fuel tanks from the various machines that have been scrapped from something or other. Between the arenas they run up top or some twist of the power structure most of them end with a bit of juice left. A dangerous payday for any scrapper to be sure.
Position identified Jace carefully makes his way back down the rubble, loyal spider drill following closely behind. Hitting the ground and moving into a quick jog Jace hustles his way toward the green haze on the horizon. He floats between the junkpiles like a flowing river, making excellent time; in moments he is standing just outside of a pseudo wall of crushed machinery. Unfortunately there is no easy traversal options, he orders his drill to get to digging. Ears straining to hear over the squealing sound of metal being crushed and broken under SD-003.
A sudden crash reverberates from somewhere just beyond the wall, capturing his attention, but it's the chilling howl that tears through the night air that sends a shiver down his spine. Hastily ceasing his drilling, realizing he's nearly finished the footholds anyway, he strains his ears, listening intently for any sound on the other side. The unmistakable crunch of metal is easy to identify. "A hound. Sounds like a big one too," Jace whispers to himself.
Fumbling with his MultiTool he quickly looks through his options, “Mods are paying dividends tonight, knew they were worth it.” Dialing through the icons, he settles on one resembling a primitive handgun before initiating the change. Feeling the soft touch of metal particles over his right hand as the handy tool transforms into the familiar weight of a classic Sig Sauer P220. Jace holds the Sig Sauer P220 like the lifeline it is, it may be a crude antique now but having access to any kind of projectile weapon is a boon in the blocks, “Might not punch through the hound carapace, gonna have to aim for the head or mouth while high on nerve pills…”His pulse pounds painfully against his ribs as he readies his weapon and positions the drill in front of him. Slow as it may be, being powered by Aether, it could draw the hound away from him. Given the choice, he'd prefer hard metal against soft flesh any day of the week.
No sooner than the drill moves into position does he make out the hound at the top of the wall, four bright orange eyes moving independently at its surroundings take in the drill and Jace’s huddled form. Hackles raise as chitinous armor plates shift and morph; it takes in the middling threat in front of it. Standing at just over four feet tall on all fours and armed with wickedly sharp claws and teeth it stands as a stark reminder of why exactly wandering the yard at night is known to be a death sentence.
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The powerful limbs of the hound move in unison, capturing Jace's attention as the beast lunges from the wall. It smashes into the ground with enough force to unbalance nearby scrap piles and send up a cloud of loose dirt in every direction. Fighting through the low visibility, Jace scrambles to find his target, hands abnormally steady as he directs his drill to search for available moving targets. The drill pierces through the dirt cloud, revealing the hound hurtling towards him. Lucky for him, it's intercepted with a resounding clash of steel on steel as the Drill's low-grade engine fights to hold out against nearly a ton of opposing force.
Seizing the short window of opportunity, Jace steadies his arm and squeezes off a quick round of .45 caliber. He jerks with the recoil as the sharp sound of a ricochet reverberates through the yard. Peering through the settling dust, he notices a scratch running alongside the rightmost eye of the creature's armor. "Damn it, not enough force! I have to hit the eyes. Even if it doesn't kill it, I can lose it if it's blind!" With his plan established, he readies another round, aware that he has seven left. Meanwhile, the drill continues its attempt to burrow into the creature's underside, the sounds of screaming metal and ghoulish screeches merging as the hound struggles to free itself from the drill's frenzied assault.
Taking a crucial second to check the drill's status, Jace realizes that it's rapidly depleting its power and wearing down its engine block. Claw marks decorate its frame, evidence of the hound's resistance. Jace jerks the trigger two more times, desperate to blind the creature. One shot goes wide, missing entirely, but the other punctures a hole through the weakened armor on the right side of its face, blocking its vision despite missing the eyes. Thick green fluid drenches the creature and the dying drill beneath it.
"Undigested Aether!" Jace's addled brain races as he recalls his safety training lessons. Hounds consume sources of Aether and process it to fuel their growth and mutations. However, in its raw concentrated form, Aether is a highly dangerous mutagen and it's combustible. They were warned that if the explosion didn't kill the scraper the saturation of Aether would…But it's better to take the chance of maybe dying from the blast than the guaranteed death that would come the moment the hound sinks its jaws into him.
With his heart pumping and adrenaline spiking Jace lowers his sights to the nearly spent drill. If he can cause an engine fire to ignite he can hopefully detonate from a safe distance. At this point, anything that increases his odds of survival is welcome. Plan in place and five rounds to make it happen he takes aim and says a quick prayer to whoever may be listening. Going over the drill schematics in his mind, he knows the engine is located in the rear thorax of the machine. He fires twice—three rounds left—as he watches the bullets leave scars on the drill but fail to penetrate it. “FUCK!” The grinding sound of metal against metal comes to a halt as his spider gives up the ghost, the Hounds orange eyes peel away from the metal carcass beneath it and focus on the remaining threat.
Jace's mind races as he realizes he only has three rounds left—two more than it would take to kill himself before he gets torn to shreds and dies anyway… "No, there's no way in hell I'm going to die alone, you fucking thing," he vows, determination seeping into his voice. With that promise made, he steadies his gun, aiming it at the hound that now rushes toward him with an uneven gait, the drill dragging lifelessly behind it, anchored by the tip that had penetrated the creature's abdomen. Despite the hound's injuries, it's still fast, certainly faster than he would be if he tried to run. grabbing a rusted iron pipe off the ground Jace readies himself for the end.
It's on him in seconds, giving Jace barely enough time to squeeze off a single round. By sheer luck, the bullet finds its mark, striking one of the creature's eyes-more by accident then intentionally, the hound doesn't falter though, it leaps, jaws out and heading for his throat. Time almost seems to slow as he sees his death approaching, green fluid trailing from the creature's face and into its mouth in a macabre display of recycling. Desperate instinct has him throwing his pipe up to try and stave off the inevitable. Holding firmly to his gun time seems to pick back up, jaws crunching down on the pipe that may as well be a toothpick to the hound, metal shattering as the guillotine jaws crunch down, but instead of tearing into his neck as expected, the hound's teeth sink into his arm that had been holding the pipe.
Pain courses through him as he feels the teeth burrow down into bone, mercifully not going all the way through but that stalemate won't last long. Falling to the ground with the force of the tackle he raises the gun toward the open maw coming down for the crunch that will render his arm-and his life- from him. The liquid Aether dropping onto his form is almost a mercy as an icy sensation spreads, overpowering any sense of pain. He fires a round into the teeth, shattering a few of them, which launch like shrapnel into the guts of the Hound. It lets out an ear shattering roar as he screams, shoving the barrel past the teeth and frantically pulling the trigger, Metal squeals as the round punches up through the roof of the hounds mouth and into its skull, a dent appearing to form like a comical head bump from a holotoon.
With a burst of adrenaline, Jace manages to scramble out from under the falling hound, gritting his teeth to suppress a scream as he uses his damaged arm to free himself. Discarding his jumpsuit, now drenched in the green fluid of Aether, he tears a strip from his clothes and desperately wipes at its residue on his face and arms. Face paling as he notices the deep bite in his left arm, blood gushing from the wound. The numbing, icy sensation that had spread across his body begins to subside, replaced by a throbbing ache. In a panic, Jace quickly fashions a tourniquet together, using what remains of his jumpsuit and another discarded pipe. His hands shake as he secures the makeshift bandage tightly around his arm, hoping to stem the bleeding.
Jace holds a hand to his face, for a moment fearing the liquid he finds is Aether but soon comes to realize are tears, He's crying, and with the realization comes more of them. In the quiet night of the scrapyard he sobs in relief.