Slow dripping hollow echo, odd reverberation and overtones....A darkness all-consuming, hard to breathe. 9Cubed comes to - he knows he's somewhere in the tunnels but can't recall what lead him here. Something about a mission to repair remote radionic satellite through his bio-crystalline oscillators...? He checks the GUI on the S.-IX suit, functionality is fluxing somewhere around 75% or so. A rushing wind sounds trembles against the air like glass and then a distant train somewhere. He looks down illuminating the floor beneath him with his headlamp. Black residue trodden into the substructural microsurface - he notices the tracks. He must have somehow wound up in the tunnels running cargo transports to the off-world trading stations where Trans-OSK ship load and unload their interplanetary goods. The sounds around him are swelling to immeasurable response in his nervous system. Between this and his suits half functionality, plus his ultimately undetermined and classified location, the best option he can see is to leave this place as soon as possible. He turns his lamp to full broadcast, considers himself lucky to have this an upgraded, brighter lamp ever since secretly contracting for The Hermits after a boched deal with the OMA on behalf of OC. It could've been days by now, but it seems to him as though hours and hours go by wandering in this dank, underworld transitline before he hears a slight sobbing seeming to emanate from a crack in the wall. He peers inside it cautiously - a crippled cyborg is trapped inside, rocks caved in all around it. With great force he manages to free the trapped specimen inside the wall. She's hurt badly and Cubed's suit is slightly more drained now from prying her loose from the debris .
Luckily Cubed has learned to bring a soldering iron on dangerous missions such as these, knowing it's always best to be prepared since you'll never know what depths of repairs you'll encounter. He takes off the faceplate, biowires are a mess but made of an odd substance, almost cyber-organic material. He suspects finely tuned bacteria systems were designed to grow as amplifying conductors on the initial overlay - a beautiful design and specimen, hours spent laboring intensely, caught up in the work and intricacy of the design, fueled by science and reason. The cyber-augmented limb's are badly torn at their sockets, most of the artificial ligament is gone, hard to work the right angles to get the pieces back into place. The biological circuits are the hardest to repair, his simple soldering iron won't do the trick here. Endless hours of trial and error cymatic-mending ensues. He deploys sub-dermal repair-virus into the beings network to map and undo the damage on the nerves he can't get too. He'll have to clean them out when he's back at Dr. Z.'s Sub-OSK Lab.
The cyborg comes to, weeping, Cubed appears to be doing the same, nerves exhausted....and that sound, like ghost strings played on the godhead's distant harp. "How....long had you...been trapped in there?" An Angelic voice of countless harmonics in perfect tone replies "For countless aeons, solitude of darkness, weight baring in at all angles, but the aeons of solitude...they hurt the most. Removed from all-life, isolated in a prison of rubble and ruin. The inertia eventually breaks the circuit but the pain lingers like a ghost sensation to a dead soul. My circuit hath fallen into the degradation of their own nothing, trapped by the gravity of loneliness and no-light."
9cubed is phasing out of his own consciousness into hers through a slow pulsing sensation and shift in perception, he begins seeing the torturous hallucinations, feeling the slow crawling screech of agony written across her spine's coding. Confined by one's environment there is no escape, and in each digital-nerve traces of the outside torment linger, echoing and rippling through a pool of unseeing. Her slow agony unwinds across his lenses as the endless longing in the hollow void trickles to a slow coil of escape and relief. He saw the entire span of the cyborg's long stay in that shallow, rock filled grave paved over by the repair crews. Space is just as tricky as time is down here during certain seasons. You may not even always be permitted to occupy the skin you came in with.
"So cold and lonely." says the cyborg betraying the horror cubed had just witnessed with her voice's soft, lost tone. The half-functional seedling-bot falls into his arms caress. He starring off into space left almost awe struck to experience such depth so shortly, fixated upon it's free-frame impact on his reality. "I don't remember anything before the cold forever-night came to me..." her words cut off by light and swift foot-steps, lightweight and hollow sounding, snickering trailing it.
It's Sitri's Gang. They're Black-Phi facerippers, a type of skinless shadow walker working to reassemble a physical guise out of stolen parts. The wear sharpened bones in place of hands to cut what they need off victims. "You've reached the end of corridor here, 729." says the tallest one, smiling a boney grin a shadow looming in place of his face. "Prince Sitri himself wishes to wear your face, he promised us the leftovers." They lunge like jaguar toward their prey. The Nameless cyborg stands, catching the prey in a static field discharge of her circuits power supply. Turning to look Cubed directly in the eyes - sad, forced smile on her face as she says "No more loneliness." A Mini-electromagnetic bomb leaves the scene a mess with parts of the cyborg and Sitri's crew in smoking piles of visceral mess.
9Cubed paces a bit. He leans down and picks up a small sample of her jeweled cortical lens and places it in a satchel, then sends it over the relays to the his remote matter-server. "Guess We'll see what Z. comes up with when he runs it through the Psi-Chronistic replay apparatus." he thinks. Now to get the fuck out of this space-train tube and back to OSK to enter the SubQuanta Silver Chamber which leads to Lodge#242/484 and see how Ikipr advises him on the situation. Looking over somewhat tattered documents while he keeps walking down the tunnels, it appears the Lilithian virus is eating away at the Malkuthian Station's Saturnine-Shielding, the 3 mechbirds may be the only thing stopping it...and should those fail-safes backfire...well it's somewhat unpredictable but has "doom" written all over it. Worse yet, it seems Black-Phi maybe hunting the airborne sentinels with their own Ravenesque counter-Eagle tech.