Bounding towards Hell

[Virus]

An alarm sounded on the bridge, the spinning glow of the orange warning light the only illumination in the dusty room.

The figure lowly stirred to life, his silent slumber interrupted by the wailing klaxon. The months the ship drifted through space left darkness in his mind. Where once was clarity of purpose, now confusion and static. One more test of his will.

Someone was close, already on board. Slow moving fingers swept over a console silencing the alarm and inputting new commands into the ship's computer systems. Defense drones creaked to life in the deep interior of the ship as other automated defenses activated in the occupied sections of the ship. These machines existed for a singular purpose: evict or annihilate the interlopers, protect the sanctuary of the ship.

Pushing the fog of sleep from his mind he straightened himself upright in his command chair. The lights on his armor blinking to life as the helmet rendered the view of the bridge to his once biological eyes. A light blinked on a nearby console standing starkly in the poorly lit room. He leaned closer, carefully wiping the grit from the display with a gauntleted hand before activating the console.

For the first time what could have been years a long, distorted laugh was coaxed forth and ran its course through his throat echoing across the empty room.

Mors Vache.
Cruiser-class. Gallic design.

The unmistakeable outline of another vessel come to claim the spoils of a dead ship. The Death Cow. Its name a testament the illusion of invincibility held by children. Wishful thinking.

With a single push of a button the Hellbound woke from it's slumber, the powerful turrets lining the hull of the ship springing to life to unleash their fury on the unsuspecting ship. Cleansing them from the mortal plane with hellfire.

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Into the Maelstrom - A Measure of Salvation - Reaver Company Database