Darkness...silence...that's all Emmalyn could register. She could not feel anything, see anything, or hear anything...she couldn't even think. It was as if everything was blank, non-existent. But then, she heard it...an order, "Zero-One, Zero-Two, Zero-Three, Zero-Four, Zero-Five. All active in combat area.". And then, there was light...<br/><br/>Emmalyn's eyes opened and her processor began to rummage through her data streams, trying to make sense of everything. Light waves, sound waves, sensations, area schematics...anything that was now flooding through her core was now trying to be processed. Her processor went through the necessary steps of booting, firing up all the necessary and required functions for her to operate. Audio capabilities came on, and she could hear the wind blowing in her ears...as well as some sounds of conflict. Visual capabilities came on, and she could see the ruined rooftop of a concrete building...that was odd. Nerve center came on, and she could feel her clothes and armor on her...as well as cold metal being pressed against her back, almost stabbing it. Some other diagnostics came on as she groaned, her throat sore from not talking as she slowly sat up, trying to get a better view of her surroundings. As she did so, her scanners did a three-hundred and sixty degree scan of her surroundings, coming up with no immediate threats being detected.<br/><br/>Then, something odd occurred...her processor tried to do a reading of her memory banks and ended up seeing that her files had been corrupted. For whatever reason, her memory was inaccessible...well, parts of it, she remembered some things, but not all of them. Remembering her place on her team, she reached to a leg on her armor, opened up a compartment, and pulled out a little disk. It was suppose to be a repair drone, one that she hoped to use on her own head to hopefully uncorrupt her memory files. But, sadly, a spark was seen and the disk fell apart. That was a shame, it looked like she would need to do some repair work for her drones...all of them were broken. That was unfortunate...<br/><br/>Looking around she had found her weapon, a shotgun she had made herself from scratch. An energy-firing weapon that spread the energy across a wide field, effective for short and medium range, though the scatter made it too sparse for long ranged. Though she did have slug munitions for it. And, for a bit of added punch, she had added another trigger to it, for below its main barrel was a holder. And that holder was where any grenades or small bombs went to be launched out of, making it a grenade launcher attachment. Picking up her shotgun, she noticed her arm on her armor, seeing the number on there...04. Suddenly, she remembered something and hoped to her feet, a finger going to her ear, having to use manual operations, since her processors were still trying to access through data to do automatic use via core directions.<br/><br/>She also loaded up a flare into her grenade launcher and fired it through the hole in the ceiling, not at all thinking if hostiles were around, she just wanted to find her squad mates and sisters, "This is 04, Emmalyn. Sisters, please respond. This is 04, Emmalyn...technology and vehicle expert, do you read this message?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>