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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
315
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Posted - 2014.09.22 01:13:00 -
[1] - Quote
Opening
The voyage through Tenal was an event in itself. On no less than three occasions, a band of Guristas had failed a warp scrambler attempt on Crow class frigate, and the captain had successfully thrown at least four interdiction zones before arriving in the target system. The mysterious captain never left his pod or spoke to his crew, instead opting to use Galm as a sort of oracle to communicate with the fire team. When the word came to prepare for docking, it came from Galm. In the limited space of the Caldari frigate the mercenary ducked between crew, pipes, and machinery to ensure each and every soldier aboard was adiquatly prepared for what lay ahead. He paused only once when the target was finally within view of the window.
Shoashu Saasanko.
It had been over a year since Galm had been here. Even from the outside it wreaked of sin. Jagged, asymmetrical pylons extended out past the tower-like structure, venting their neon light into the oblivion beyond to advertise the hell that stirred within. When he finally addressed the crew he was dressed not as a soldier, but a civilian. A new olive drab jacket draped around his shoulders, his emblem displayed proudly on his right for all to see. Mirrored aviators framed his face, highlighting his most distinct features against his mop of unkempt hair. If his father were still around, the resemblance would have been uncanny.
Quote:"Listen up team. We all know why we're here. We're going to bring Snowfall Station to it's knees, and capture on Gurista linchpin by the name of Advir Zippang, otherwise known as 'Grabarc.' The man is a mortal, and in charge of all the operations of the facility. I assure you, this is not a trial. This man is guilty of enough crimes to merit what we do him this day five times over. We are hear to deliver justice swiftly, and without mercy. And we will not fail!"
He undoes his jacket swiftly, displaying a clear lining of explosives running up and down the sides.
"Our cover is that we're here to participate in a local Gladiator tournament held between immortals every year. They like seeing emotion in their fighters, so I trust that most of you brough custom clones instead of average stock bodies. Convince them that we're here to fight, and they won't bat an eye at you. When you have your chance, get into a strategic position and detonate your explosives. Captain Wulver, the man in charge of this ship, will see about having a sellection of your clone reserves moved to one of the lower storage levels of the station to reanimate back into. I want you all to cause as much chaos as possible, and burn Snowfall from the inside out. Hooah?"
He zips up his jacket and makes for the cargo hold, trying to forget that he's a walking bomb.
"Oh... And... Try not to get shot. The pirates out here like using Toxin modified weapons on immortals. If you don't know what that means, you're lucky. All I'm saying is, given the choice between suffering through the pain and setting off my bomb I'd pick the bomb any day of the week."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
323
|
Posted - 2014.09.25 03:02:00 -
[2] - Quote
The ship gave a slight jolt, tossing each mercenary about through the narrow hallways. The crew members couldn't help but snicker at the immortals as the clung tightly to any equipment they could find as the frigate was towed into station by a powerful gravity well. Galm could hardly be bothered, glancing up only once from his book before relaxing and letting the ship slowly drift into the station hanger. He had by that point located a rather comfortable position between the CO2 scrubber and the osmosis machine and had no inclination of moving until absolutely necessary. The book in question was particularly colorful, the front page depicting a series of animated Achuran schoolgirls armed to the teeth in Caldari weaponry. The title itself was written in Caldari block, but any mercenary could make an accurate assumption about the exact plot of the novel. He sat there silently for several minutes before finally slamming it shut and tucking it away behind a random section of piping. He shot to his feet, storming down the hallway banging away on anything metal to catch everyone's attention.
"Alright everyone, we've touched down! Drop your cocks and grab your socks, we're Oscar Mike on this!"
He looks around frantically for a moment before finally making eye contact with Vyzion.
"Make yourself ready doctor. Seems your going to be extra busy on this deployment. Take a member of the fire team with you and find the clinic on the station. I'd hardly call it a hospital, it's mostly used for holding clone reserves for capsuleers and producing Crash out the back. You can spend some time on the station first, but I need you in that drug lab before the first bomb goes off. Whoever you take with you get them nice a beat up. Shoot him in the foot, put him through the games, I don't care. Just make a reason to take him to the clinic. They can pat the two of you down all you like but they're never going to find that bomb in your belly."
That might have been a lie. The bomb wasn't in his belly as much as it was through his entire torso. All things considered, it was probably best that he didn't know quite the extent of his explosives, nor the amount of damage it would actually cause until after he had detonated. Galm laughed silently to himself, setting down the haul as he motioned for the other soldiers to follow him.
After several minutes of snaking through tight corridors and passages they at last made their way to a freight elevator. With great care, every member of the team managed to fit into it at once as it lowered itself down into the cargo hold. The hold itself seemed in a constant state of controlled anarchy. There was something moving in every direction, at every speed, at any angle. Missiles were being wheeled across the deck, small drones set about stocking proper supplies for the crew, and a single CRU sat dead center, casting and imposing image on the mortals below in the dim blue service lights. Fae made a point of storming up to the nearest chief and snagging him by the collar, snapping him around with enough force to make him bite his own tongue. The sailor yelped in shock, wiping at mouth to check for blood as Galm began pointing frantically at the cargo doors.
"How long until those open sailor?" he barked, expecting a swift response.
"Sixth mikesth sthir," he relayed, his swollen tongue impeding his speech, "Custhoms agents should do a sweep of the area, but passengers are free to disembark as soon as those doors open. The captain's already out of pod and filling out some minor paperwork with control."
Good.
He turned back to the soldiers, directing their attention to the massive pair of sliding doors framing the south side of the ship.
"You heard the sailor, make yourselves ready. If you have any questions, ask them now before those doors open. I find walking onto Snowfall is a bit like a beach landing. It can get a bit chaotic."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
326
|
Posted - 2014.09.29 05:10:00 -
[3] - Quote
True warriors always wore masks. Not to hide their identity mind you, but to become something greater than themselves. Masks hid our more human flaws cast them aside in favor of a much more fearsome disposition. There would be no emotion, no closure of identity. All that remained was the raw, unrestricted might of the soldier behind the facade. Standing there in cargo hull, it began to dawn on Galm that he had grown far too reliant on his helmet to mask the man that hid inside the armor. Flawed, human features began to bleed through without a dropsuit to hinder them. A large, unsettling grin slowly began to free itself from the corners of his lips before gaining complete control of his features. Even behind his flesh however, another set of emotions began to brew. Something... Far more complex. Something that had to be hidden behind the one mask he could never remove.
With a tremendous groan, the cargo doors began to pull away and reveal the station beyond. The frigate, wedged between a set of corroded scaffolding, had come to rest on a concrete loading bay adjacent to a massive customs office. Security teams ducked forward and back between multiple lines of passengers, occasionally pulling two or three men aside at a time as a slaver hound sniffed up and down their pant legs. The dogs, while certainly intimidating, weren't actually trained in anything of course. Instead the station security would simply let their mutt prod away at every possible orifice until the traveler developed the good sense to pay the patrol off. When that didn't work, the violence would start. The dogs would begin to get much more aggressive while promises of detainment and accusations of contraband were thrown about with reckless abandon. If the poor sailor failed to reciprocate after such a display, he or she would be escorted to an iron door on the far side of the nearest gate at gunpoint. What happened after that was any man's guess.
Steam rose from all manners of gutters and grates across the landing pad, the white plumes drifting far above the endless crowd and providing a starch contrast to the dim orange light of the low-temperature spotlights being projected from the main gate. The gate itself was concrete as well, covered in all matters of graffiti that had been encouraged by the Guristas as an art form. The tall fence was marked periodically with different access points leading to separate corridors of the station. Beyond each access point lay a series of more wire gates that would occasionally turn in on themselves and lead back into narrow corridors that would contain yet more guards waiting to be paid off, their bright green machine guns clearly brandished for anyone foolish enough to disrespect their authority. Only after pressing through this labyrinth would a pilgrim have their chance to lay eyes on the true wonders of Snowfall Station.
Not every mortal made it through. Most didn't. But those who knew how to play the system... The high rollers who could grease every palm from here to New Caldari, the easy kakku whores who knew exactly how to touch each bouncer along the way, and to the capsuleers who could so boldly evade the entire system while looking down on the mortals from their ivory tower... The lights beyond the gates would be blinding. Whatever you sought, a flashing neon light would guide you to exactly where you need to go. Attached to the tunnel system were buildings upon buildings all interconnected by winding stairways and poorly lit alleys leading to slums and bordellos alike. Casinos, clubs, bars, ballrooms, auctions, assemblies, and arenas were all out there somewhere among countless others who had all spent everything they had to even arrive at the edifice of such a sprawl.
And there stood Galm, for the first time in a long time, at the first step of the decent. Kador, the poor Udorian, had already run along to the shortest line. His enthusiasm, while admirable, may have been somewhat misplace. The 'fast lane' as occupants had come to call it, was known for having the most direct route into the station. The bribes to clear it, however, were simply astronomical and the guards had developed a reputation for being the least tolerant of those who could not immediately pay the fee. It was certainly nothing a mercenary couldn't afford, but Fae had the feeling Kador would be unaccustomed to the nuisances of kissing a pirate's ass. Figuring it would be poor form to allow the Templar to continue on Galm disembarked, quickly vanishing into the crowd. He pressed past as many wet-headed mundanes as possible, who easily fell to the side in fear of protesting and catching the guard's attention. He got as close to Ouryon as he could, waving frantically to catch his attention to apparently no avail. Perhaps he was overwhelmed by the scenery... Perhaps he was actively trying to ignore Fae. Both options seemed likely.
Fae's waving grew in intensity, his calls more jarring as he called for attention over the roar of heavy machinery in the hanger.
"GODS DAMN IT TEMPL!-- AHHHH!"
His sentence was cut comically short as he hollered in pain. Reacting immediately, Galm shook his leg as he looked down to see a slaver hound tugging powerfully on his cargo pants. Beside him stood a guard, his appearance far less professional than his title would imply. There was no uniform to speak of, only a dingy tan zip-up hoodie and a knitted scarf that dangled lazily from his shoulders.
"Sir..." he began condescendingly, tugging at the leash of the animal, "Y'pear to be causing a domestic disturbance. That warrants a fee on this side o' the wall, and proper identification."
"Cute," Galm spat, trying to shake the hound off as he passed the young man his passport, "Did your mom make you that scarf?"
"Sir, that's insulting an officer of the law, am I going to need to pull you a--"
He froze, staring at Galm's paperwork.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
327
|
Posted - 2014.09.29 22:36:00 -
[4] - Quote
Quote: He froze, staring at Galm's paperwork.
"W-- Wait a tick there. I need to get this authorized friend... Eh, that's gonna cost a fee as well."
The guard relaxed his stance, letting the slaver hound back away from Galm and come to rest at his feet. He pulls a small datapad out of his back pocket and begins in enter all matters of digits and symbols. Every few seconds the phone vibrates, indicate that whoever he was in contact with was responding rather rapidly. In those few awkward moments Fae could take a much closer look at the Gurista before him. He was young... Far too young to be in such a life. His face said he was no more than 19, though his rugged shadow and sunken eyes told a much more tragic story. It had grown commonplace in the shattered regions of New Eden to see a brighteyed teenage idealest voyage fearlessly into the stars to stake their claim and reach their dreams. Life, unfortunately, was rarely kind to such youth. There was no time for innocents or morality. You either learn to adapt or you died, simple as that. With each buzz the guard looked more and more concerned, eventually he looks up and opens his mouth to speak.
That was when the shooting happened. He didn't know exactly how it started, nor did it truly matter this far into hell. There were civilian screams and hollers as Guristas fell one after the next just behind Galm's position. By the time the madness ended, five mortals lay dead around Steadyhand. Fae wasn't entirely sure how to react. Months of planning, hours of briefing, days of anticipation all seemed to melt away around him as he made eye contact with the soldier. His breathing began to run ragged as he drifted backwards toward the Templar, not quite sure of what he was doing. There was a click of a round being chambered, then absolute silence. Fae spun around, looking back at the guard and his hound that he had just spoken with. The young man had his submachinegun shouldered, the Toxin weapon aimed perfectly at Galm and his cohort. He began to shake violently as a series of sobs forced their way up his throat.
"Pixy!" he barked, "Yeah, it's you, ain't it? I remember ya'! Had a month's salary stacked on you at the games last year when you walked off the station! Now you're getting in the way of this chickenshit Amarr after he k--"
The word came out incomplete, trailing off into another sob before be began again.
"Killed five of my friends! That guy there? The one he filled with lead? He had a gods damn family! The other one, he was gonna get married! Piece of **** thinks he can walk into our station and ju--"
"Let me handle it," Fae breathed, stepping forward just slightly.
"No, no, this is our job! Now move or I'll gun you down too hero!"
Fae held his ground, motioning for the boy to lower his weapon.
"This guy's with me," he began, "My soldier, my property. He's a good fighter, and Grabarcs gonna want to see him. But I'm not letting him walk away from this, alright? He's mine to damage."
He nodded slightly, letting his weapon drop to his hip as Galm made his way over to the first generation mercenary. He got as close as possible, his boots squared with the towering Amarr. Fae may have been good foot shorter than him, but that did nothing to stop his bravado. He eyed Steadyhand up and down, seething powerfully through a set of clenched teeth.
"Take the beating," Galm growled quietly, "Take the beating, and you can get out of this with full pay. Trust me."
He didn't wait for a response. Galm's first blow was absolutely savage, making full contact with David's temples as Fae used his head to ram him to the ground. He knew he could risk a body shot as long as his team members were wearing their vests, so the face was the only obvious choice for striking as he climbed atop the soldier and began to hammer his fists down one after the other. Synthetic blood began to leak, though he wasn't sure if it was from his own knuckles or David's eye. Still he pressed on, driving one blow after another into his orbital until he was worried he had permanently disfigured the Templar. He breathed for a moment, remembering that any damage to an immortal was temporary, then continue to strike downward without hesitation.
When he finished he rose from the soldier leaving him to bleed on the concrete floor as Galm shook out his bloody fists. The guard came running by, pulling him away to stop him from doing any further damage to himself.
"Alright! Alright!" he boomed, sounding far too excited, "That's the old Pixy I remember! Gods damn, you haven't lost your touch! The boss is going to want to see you personally!"
"Least I could do," Galm huffed, looking down at he crumpled soldier who was quickly trying to regain his footing, "The soldier was my responsibility. He's a first generate you see, not of sound mind. I wouldn't expect him to understand concepts like respect. But I was hoping Zippang could see his potential as a fighter."
"Well I think you've proved that much mate. Best let the man get cleaned up while you tend to old business. No use waiting through the blasted lines here. Got any other mates I should kno'ov?"
"Yeah... Two Templars, a Matari, and two Gallente."
"Well I'll see to it that they aren't bothered by the guards then. Least I could do for an old champion!"
He gives Galm a playful jab to the stomach, but pulls away quickly as soon as it makes contact. Galm stood there, unphased without even flinching as he shakes he hands out.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
328
|
Posted - 2014.09.30 05:21:00 -
[5] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote:
Noah found himself standing near Fae as the situation calmed down. He had originally planned to explore the station, gathering intel on key locations to hit. His plans had changed considerably in the last few minutes, he could not pass up the opportunity to meet the primary target face to face.
GÇ£IGÇÖm going to the meeting with you.GÇ¥ His voice was soft, but he spoke loudly enough to be heard clearly.
Galm nodded silently, watching Vyzion tend to David from afar. He stood there, his chest rising and falling in the cold bite of the condensed station air as spotlights continued to trace their way back and forth across the mass crowd.
"That was only the start," he finally warns flatly, "Zippang isn't like you and I. He's a mad dog that needs to be put down, and until we do he'll keep chasing this thing over Steadyhand. I know what I did looks bad, but I managed to buy us some time."
He looks towards CJ, a small flicker of concern flashing across his face for the first time since departing on this mission.
"When the time comes, we'll have to make some tough choices about the Templars. But those will all just be a means to our endgame. Believe me when I tell you, whatever price we have to pay will be returned in blood."
He motions for CJ to follow him, passing through the front gate as the guard from before gives a halfhearted salute.
"Grabarc should be waiting for you in a club downtown called the Diamondback."
Fae scoffed, taken back slightly.
"Diamondback? What's wrong with The Silo?"
"That rickety old place? Too damn dangerous, Grabarc had it shut down! I guess a few too many dancers kept getting too doped to keep their balance and falling out of cages."
Fae hung his head, mourning the death of his favorite bar. That was where he had first met the mercenaries of Beta Max, and where he decided to leave Shoashu in the first place... Though, to be fair, that choice may have been after considering just how dangerous a place like the Silo was in the first place. The former missile tube had long since been hollowed out and turned into a nightclub that relied solely on the structural integrity of a few rickety steel gantries built by the Caldari decades ago as dancers shook their assets over an abysmal black pit lit only by an occasional glow stick dropped into the void below. All things considered, it was probably better off condemned. He pressed forward, wondering just what else had changed since YC115.
There was no need to stop for a credit check or register for the tournament. When Grabarc wanted something, everyone on the station knew it. More importantly, they knew not to keep it from him. Any distractions hereon out between the mercenaries and the pirate were an unforgivable sin to Snowfall's own personal god. The two continued along the corridors for some distance, twisting and weaving their way through segments that seemed to resemble an armed bunker more than a cosmopolitan station. Occasionally a transport tunnel or two would intersect their path, or a series of small hole-in-the-wall shops offering a series of offensive smelling ethnic food, but it certain wasn't the Snowfall that Galm remembered. Not yet anyway.
Just when the two began to deliberate on if they were lost or not they rounded a corner to find a clearly marked tram system that (according to the poorly drawn sign hung above the ticket office) promised to take passengers into the heart of downtown Shoashu. After considering every possible alternative the pair decided that public transportation system would be their best bet at traversing their way through labyrinth of network tunnels. This theory was discredited of course when the tram finally came around, literally grinding to a haul beside the platform in a symphony of metal screeching. The metro car was just barely kept in operating condition, the windows all shattered and cracked and temporarily replaced with cheap plastic bags with spray paint tags covering what must have been every square foot of the machine's surface. When the doors slid open it revealed the inside to be a tattered, if not surprisingly clean, husk of a transport cart filled with shredded leather seating running along its length. The two paused for a bit, then took the first step on board in unison as they offered prayer to their favorite deity.
Eventually, the train hummed to life, the magnetic lifts finally pushing the fragile tube down it's merry path. The cart was incredibly dark, illuminated only by a few sparsely placed safety lights to outlined the alley in case if an emergency. Even though the train was on a magnetic rail, Fae could have sworn they hit a pothole at least once along their journey as it tossed him around in his seat with several violent shutters. After seemingly an eternity trapped in the hot tritanium cart, crammed between two clearly unwashed shipyard workers, the monorail shrieked to a halt inside a much larger subway station. Stepping out, the air felt fresh and the sounds grew more invigorating. The deep groaning of large steel hulls was replaced with the distant hum of electronic bells and happy cheers. The metro itself seemed in far better shape than it's counterpart at the customs office, with great care clearly placed in choosing the perfect spot to hang various holographic advertisement displays for all manners of entertainment institutions. Just beyond the platform several different sets of escalators led in different directions, all moving topside to the sprawl above.
The two rushed to the steps, running up the moving staircase rather than letting it carry them. When they emerged, both needed to take a moment to absorb their surrounds. Gone were the gray concrete walls and claustrophobic tunnels and their place stood massive hives of shopping centers, drug dens, and other exotic emporiums.
"Okay," Galm ventured, "Keep an eye out any signs pointing towards the Diamondback."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
330
|
Posted - 2014.10.02 02:10:00 -
[6] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote:
GÇ£Hey Fae, I think its this way,GÇ¥ Noah nodded his head down one of the alleys, the sign above stated it was the stations red light district.
Galm crooked his head down the ally, shuttering slightly at the thought. He takes a step backwards, his breath hitching for an instant before recovering.
"Right... Yeah... Red light district," he stammers, his voice unsteady, "Makes sense. Just... Try not to get distracted in there, alright?"
He shuffles forward before stopping again, talking to Jester over his shoulder.
"You're going to see some things in here you may not like. Just try to remember that the best thing we can do for these people is to shut this station down. And above all else? Don't let anyone see you sweat. Keep your head down, keep your nose clean, and don't let me handle the talking with Zipang."
That being said, Galm adjusted the bomb in his jacket and pressed further down the street. The lewd sexual deviance of the place began predictably enough. It crept to a start, opening first with the odd holoreel rental store or adult book athenaeum. Noah couldn't help but notice, much to his horror and amusement, that some of the novels being peddled bore a striking resemblance to the very same story Fae seemed to be reading earlier. The depravity seemed to grow at and exponential rate as they pushed on, eventually pressing past odd bands of Achurian or Deteis women who would wave playful as they passed by. The closer they drew the more soothing inflection their voice would take, promising to heal them of all ailments if only the soldiers had the time, money, and kindness to lay with them for the night.
Fae wished that was as far as it went. But no matter how many brothels they passed, no matter how many women they refused in search of the Diamondback, the alley continued to stretch on into oblivion. Dim, vermilion lighting proved just enough so the mercenaries couldn't make out hard features among the horde of tourists they shared the streets with while still outlining the delicate forms of prostitutes among the distressed grey buildings. Eventually the crowd thinned slightly as they pressed deeper into the more niche section of the neighborhood. Skintight shorts or flowing robs gave way to shined latex or well pressed satirical versions of Provist dress blues. More unique items were brandished openly for purchase, contraptions the likes of which only the most inventive Gallente or most sadistic Amarr could conceive. Fae finally spoke, his voice low and solemn.
"I was deeply hoping we would have located the place by now."
There was no embarrassment in his voice, but that unsettled tone remained. He wondered if Noah would understand why as they turned the next bend. He paused, deeply wishing he didn't have to go any further. Before them stretched the same alley, moving onward and onward in the pervasive and constant red light, though with significantly less tourists than earlier. When he spoke again, Noah could finally place his tone. Regret.
"You know how butchers always keep the best cuts in back of the shop?"
He stared at Jester, letting him derive the meaning on own before moving forward once again. It was silent here, as silent as a compact urban sprawl could be anyway. There was no chatter or pleading, only a focus silence as individuals moved from one shop window to the next, carefully assessing the merchandise that lay just out of view. On the far end sat an understated holographic sign above a single metal door, the trademark Gurista emblem flashing as a snake began coiling through every open hole of the skull. The Diamondback was right within reach.
"Just look at the floor here, trust me. No use looking around."
He felt like he was trying to convince himself more than CJ. As they inched closer to the door side by side, he couldn't stop himself from looking away any longer. He knew they would be right there, staring at him as he passed, and he owed them the courtesy of at least making eye contact.
Before Galm sat a wide, slightly tinted window built into the side of a building. The glass was clearly secure, holding a firm position despite obvious attempts to break in with brute force or long, deep gashes into the pane itself. He wondered if the tint was mirror coated, providing one way access on the other end, or if it was simply made slightly darker so visibility was limited to whoever happened to be standing just in front of it. He got his answer when she looked at him, her eyes welling up with tears. The girl behind the glass was young, no older that fourteen as far as Fae could tell. She sat there, naked in her own little contained habitat tracking Galm with her misty blue eyes. Her box certainly appeared comfortable, filled with all the plush amenities a young woman could hope for including an artist easel and a fully furnished bed. Behind the glass, softly, he could here a soothing melancholy tune play from unseen speakers as they lulled her into a passive trance. But there was still no mistaking it, the room was little more than a circus cage, storing the ringleader's main attraction until such a time that it could be let out for a brief display at an exorbitant fee.
She was still staring back at Fae, the little Sebiestor girl, tears washing her eyes out. That was the worst part really, that they weren't even real tears. There was no catharsis or sorrow in them, only a reprogrammed response to the stimuli of seeing another potential customer. She was unwillingly streaming tears of utter joy, her body primed through classical conditioning to know what the sight of another man entailed.
He didn't need to look around, but Fae knew there where others. Not all as young as this one, but there were enough for any type of company you decided to rent for the evening. The exact indoctrination process was still closely guarded, and the families incredibly well compensated for their 'donation.'
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
331
|
Posted - 2014.10.06 16:33:00 -
[7] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote:
He said nothing as he gave the woman his bag, she offered him a fake, forced smile and a ticket. He accepted the ticket and returned her fake smile with a soft, genuine one of his own, along with his thanks. Pocketing the ticket he returned to Galm.
GÇ£Lets go, weGÇÖve only got so much time.GÇ¥
Fae nodded, never once breaking eye contact with the girl. He put his hand to the glass, waiting to see if she'd do the same. She continued to eye him, remaining perfectly still so she could be carefully scrutinized by the mercenary. Fae could have so easily committed every one of her details to memory, from her slender little legs to the way her hair sat perfectly in place along her shoulders. He stopped himself just shy of the act, turn to face the club.
"Sierra hotel, soldier. I need a drink anyway."
He drove towards the door, stopping only for a moment to gather his senses before entering. He needed to be the Pixy everyone would remember. He needed to get angry. All things considered, it wouldn't be that hard. Rage came naturally to him. It was a tool he could easily control, letting it slowly burn under the surface to manifest in the form of dry wit and passive-aggression. All he needed to do was shut off his inhibitions and let the storm inside rage, overtaking his every will until the man who had organized this mission was quickly lost to someone else entirely. When he was ready, the threw the door open and charged inside.
The interior of the club was well furbished compared to the alley, if not just as dirty. Quality modern furniture sat beside overflowing bins of bottles, half empty bottles on mindflood, and cast aside clothing under piercing lights of every color. Exotic dancers stood on platforms just above clusters of seats, jiggling their assets and other unmentionables for the appeasement of... Apparently no one in particular. The club seemed oddly empty save for a few high rollers and scattered guards spread across an otherwise large hall that could easily seat several hundred Guristas.
Galm took another step forward before being stopped by a large, beefy Civire who seemed to materialize from the opposite side of the threshold, holding the mercenary back.
"Bar's closed tonight for a private meeting," he thundered, keeping the small half-breed at bay, "Grabarc's orders."
"Ah," Galm spat dryly, "Did the man bother to tell you who he's meeting with? Or are you just so expendable that he doesn't care if I have to turn you inside-out?"
"Excuse me, bro?"
"Bro. Always with the bro. I swear, these pirates play to their own stereotype. The women are whores, the men are thick, and their best and brightest hold their meetings in a secured ***** bar in the red light district. I'm almost embarrassed for you. It's like none of you have had an original thought in your life."
At this point the bouncer... At least Fae assumed he was a bouncer, frankly the man was chiseled enough that he could be a dancer if he wanted to... Had grown bright red in a state of pure anger, all too eager to throw a haymaker straight in Galm's direction. Even then, he just stood there far too intimidated to take the first move. Galm looked him in the eyes, his augmented irises shinning a dim gold in the rotating menagerie of colors that surrounded them. Fae leaned into his shoulder, pressing hard against him as he awaited some sort of response. When none came he pushed off the guard and continued marching forward into the bar, signaling Noah to follow as he closed the distance to the nearest enclave of gathered spectators.
There were five people crowded around one couch, all passing along a glass pipe in every which direction as they cackled and smirked at the show Galm had displayed. There were three dancers scantily clad in nothing but the lower half of black laced lingerie, leaving their best (though most likely synthetic) bits to dangle freely for the enjoyment of their customers. Each had their own small ethnic traits but all of those were made irrelevant by the unsettling uniformity in their choice of uniform, distracting the eye to far more... Pressing matters of their physiology. Nestled between two sat a rat faced scab of a man, much further along in his mortal life than could be said about either of the two mercenaries. He was the bar owner, Galm reason, or a slaver most likely. All Galm knew for certain was that he didn't like the little fink.
And there, opposite of the man sat Advir "Grabarc" Zippang. The man himself was a snake, an opportunist capable of smooth talking you into a deal so good you couldn't say no only to find in time your dreams will all burn away and leave you with nothing but the ashen husk and an insurmountable bill that permanently binds you to his service. But perhaps most importantly-- and the most dangerous thing about him for that matter-- The man could look good doing it. His face, rugged with the shadow of a charming rogue, sat perfectly framed by a well-combed head of dark brown hair. A sever cowlick only added to his demeanor, giving him a balanced look of utter apathy in the face of even the most trying subjects. On his neck a tattoo of a serpent coiled circles lower and lower down under his jacket before disappearing, leaving it to the imagination to determine just how the viper stretched. His piercing green eyes seemed to glow even under the flashing strobes of the club, seeming so warm and inviting than any guard you may have for the man was instantly washed away by the time he began to speaking. Caging his features was a noticeable, though forgivable amount of eye shadow. Whether it was a 'pirate thing' or if it was to mask the toll of his long nights of partying had been a matter of debate.
"Saisa!" he hissed, his voice honeyed and soothing, "Saisa, saisa, saisa! A while it has been Galm! Seriously though friend, how long has it been? Never mind that though, please! Have a seat, by all means!"
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
331
|
Posted - 2014.10.09 07:06:00 -
[8] - Quote
Galm took a deep breath, letting the situation truly sink in for a moment as Grabarc motioned vigorously for him to take a seat. Noah continued to stand respectfully, knowing when it was his place to be acknowledged. Galm had a deep respect for the man, and was glad to have him at his side. The exact circumstances of their first encounter were uneasy to say the least. The man had actually come to Galm with a contract for a deep space salvage operation in wormhole space. What had began as a simple recovery mission quickly degraded into a nightmarish hellscape that no one was truly willing to discuss afterwards. But Jester always remained composed, a natural leader in the face of insurmountable challenges as he would quickly acertain a situation and seek out effective solutions. To say the two were cut from the same cloth would seem inaccurate. Frankly he was better than Fae, if not slightly less ambitious.
Overall, not bad for a kakku.
He smirked, dragging himself forward into a seat opposite of Zippang and his cohorts. Across from him Zippang shook eagerly, as if waiting for Galm to make the first move.
"You know," he begins after some time with a light chuckle, "When I first heard you were back in Snowfall I must say I was so damn surprised! I honestly didn't think you would have the balls to rear your head once you left. I mean, I gave you everything man! I took care of you!"
Galm grunted, leaning back in the oddly shaped yet surprising comfortable chair he found himself in.
"I took care of myself, kirjuun. Everything I had I earned in the pits. I'm thankful for the opportunity you presented me with your organization, but my fealty ended there. I was always free to leave."
Grabarc slammed down on the table, snapping his head between the girls and his aging associate.
"You see everyone! That's what I was talking about! All the stories about this ******* guy, all true! He takes no **** from nobody, not even me! I mean... After all the drugs, the money, the girls--"
"There were never any girls."
The snake seemed completely taken back, throwing himself backwards in a series of unsettling hoots and hollers as the two dancers whispered smoothly into both his ears. He started to nod faster and faster, whatever drug he was only clearly take its effect.
"Nawwww Pixy. There was one girl, remember? I thought you'd remember. Don't you remember this bar? I took you shopping out here, and I took you to this bar!"
Galm scanned his eyes across the trashed cabaret, his eyebrows hanging low as he exhales cynically. The bar was like every other piece of crap pub scattered across the station. The Silo had atmosphere, personality, and ambiance. This place was just sad. It stank of alcohol and broken dreams, a mixture all too common in Fae's life. The only difference was distinct lack of drunkards and the apparent overabundance of guards. Things began to make sense quickly in Fae's head. Using a back-alley bar tucked away in a secluded location, the perfect lack of witnesses, the occasional flash of gunmetal that would flicker of the belt of a passing bouncer.
"I don't know man, there were a lot of bars. I was ****** up then."
Grabarc kept bouncing up and down in glee, expecting that very answer. Positively candid, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a familiar vial. Galm's grip on his chair tightened immediately at the sight of it, causing him to fidget uncomfortably in place. He sets the small tube of mindflood on the table between them, beaming with anticipation.
"I read-- Well... Someone I knew once tried telling me that our brains can only remember certain things when we were in the state when we first learned them. It's got some psychology name, ancestors be damned if I know what it is! But I'm pretty sure it's the truth. I mean, I'm high all the time and I never forget a thing! I figure you take a hit and I can have a nice, rational talk with the man I used to do business with."
"Look Advir, I really appreciate it b--"
"I wasn't asking Pixy."
He eyed the vial skeptically, leaning forward and taking a hold of it. It looked so simple in the little bottle, masking the evil that hid inside. Taking mindflood was always a gamble of course, providing a high like no other with no concrete guarantee that you'd ever come back down. Sometimes it made Galm feel like a god, other times it left him drooling in the street for hours on end. As an immortal it was of little consequence, never actually doing any permanent damage aside from the reoccurring nightmares brought on by a few bad trips. Even then, he wondered what Grabarc's endgame was. Was he trying to make Fae passive? Maybe keep him so doped up he never wanted to leave again? That was, of course assuming it was mindflood at all and not cut with some exotic poison or truth serum. Eventually he grabbed the tube of liquid and unscrewed the top, carefully lifting it to his nose and letting a small dose waft in. It was painful and disorienting, but damn did it feel good when it hit his brain. Everything seemed brighter, every movement felt better, and everyone seemed so very beautiful. He let the small amount settle, closing his eyes as it took hold.
Grabarc jumped on the opportunity, slapping one of the women hard on the thigh to signal it was time for her to move. She shot forward over the table and into Galm's lap, taking hold of his arm as he drew an knife and pressed it firmly against her though. With a woman's touch she pushed his hand further back, forcing him to take a larger and large dose before the fluid spilled out of the tube outright and onto the mercenary's face. At first he thrashed about, doubling over in pain from the rush. He didn't swear or curse, instead making a series of animalistic groans and shouts as the woman held him steady. Despite attack, she began to carefully rock him soothingly as he rode out the storm and let the knife fall to the ground beside him.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
335
|
Posted - 2014.10.10 06:50:00 -
[9] - Quote
The pain was excruciating, like he had just snorted a palm full of broken glass. It cut deep into his brain, sending shock-waves through his system as neurons fired one after another in an electrical surge. Death, for a brief moment, seemed like a much more preferable alternative than to let the drug rocket through his mind. Eventually it all subsided, and the world went dark. Nanites rushed to repair the damage, but it seemed no use. Galm's lifeless body hung there, still convulsing in the arms of the woman on top of him.
Then sometime else awoke inside of him. A single spark in the back of his head grew into a fireball, jump starting his body as the fire inside took control. His head rose, his eyelids rolling back until a set of piercing eyes began to bore right into hers. He raised his hand, placing it on her cheek. He let it hand there for a moment as she rolled into it, letting him feel her. He grinned, happy to feel so very alive. The fire continued to burn and burn inside him as a series of throaty laughs began to leak out of him. The air seemed cool in his lungs, but unbearably warm against his skin. Every flashing strobe had some implicit meaning that couldn't be put into words. Even if he could, he began to doubt that anyone he spoke to would be able to truly understand just how remarkable the world had become. It made him feel more than human, like he was above the restrictions of our universe. At long last, he was free.
He slid his hand behind the woman's head, using his other to trace every little scar on her form. When he felt he had observed every interesting part of her, he quickly found it unbearable to be in her presence any longer. He grabbed hold of her thick hair, casting her aside with a powerful tug. She flew off the chair in a painful shriek, falling backwards as a knot of hair ripped free of her scalp to dangle in Fae's palm. Grabarc began to applaud as the other woman rushed to pull her to her feet, limping away from the soldiers.
"See! Doesn't that feel so much better?" he barked madly.
"I feel... Like I'm on fire," Galm forced out through a series of deep growls, "I like it."
Now Galm was vibrating just as fast as Grabarc, nodding uncontrollably at the man with his eyes fully dilated. He pauses for a moment, sniffing the delicate perfume on the knot of hair in his fist.
"Now that's the Pixy I know! Do you remember yet? I took you here after you won your first fight! You put on the best show I had seen out of anyone since YC110, and I let you have pick of the whole house! You could have had any girl you wanted!"
It was a memory he knew well, but he tried so hard to forget. He did all he could to force it down, even though at one point he had seen that as the happiest day of his life. It was so simple then, viewing everything through a bottle. Nothing made sense, but it did't have to as long as all the cards fell into place nice and neat. He wished he had known before. He wish he could have done something then.
"Yeah... I remember."
The hair in his hand was so soft, so smooth.
"Damn right man!" Zippang bleated, "But you told me none of these girls were your type! Then you saw her! A real 'girlfriend' sort drinking alone back here. I gotta admit, I was saving that little flower for a high roller but you seemed so insistent on meeting her! And boy did you two hit it off! Tell me, was the sex good? Because the two of you were practically joined to the hip after that! It all worked out so well too, you kept fighting and I promise her you'd be her only client. Storybook ending really. Then you left of course... Needed to find a lot of other men for that one, just to keep her marketable. Needed to get her broken back in, right, seeing how you'd eh... Well, worn her in a bit. Had it in her head she was worth anything more than that bar and some luck bastard's happy ending. **** like that's hard to train out of a girl."
It was all so easy for him to say, like it was all just business. Gods and spirits, if he had known... If she had at least told him from the start! It didn't need to end like that, but her damn pride kept him from ever catching on. He spent long nights awake, wondering why she never told him. It finally dawned on him in his intoxicate state that they had something so remarkably pure that she refused to let the reality of New Eden taint it. Niina was always oddly romantic like that. A hush fell over the room as Galm realized he was breathing remarkably heavy, his pants echoing off the steel walls against the dull bass of the club.
"Pixy... I gave you so much with that girl, and then you threw it all away when you left. And then you come back, and the first thing your people do is trash the place?"
"The Templar was meant to be a gift," Galm began to interject, "A first generation Templar was suppose to be my way of saying sorry. He'd be a hell of a crowd pleaser, and a faithful slave. I was mistaken."
"Oh no no my boy! It was a fantastic idea! But as the record stands you've drawn blood and that needs to be repaid. I ought to kill you and the Templar for what you did... But that all seems to pointless! What does bloodshed do for immortals? No no, I forgive. For example!--"
He places his arm on the shoulder of his aging guess, who was now painfully aware of the fact that he had no business in this meeting.
"Just look at Mister Gansu here! Gansu has been in charge of the Diamond back for... How long has it been now?"
He opens his mouth to speak but Grabarc's finger presses his withered lips shut.
"Shhhhhh, no need to tell me. Longer than I've been in charge here, I can tell you that! Recently, I've noticed a bit of a decline in the quality of this establishment! I suppose the man figured that now that the Silo is no longer operational lower his standards and people will be force to pay."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
335
|
Posted - 2014.10.10 07:23:00 -
[10] - Quote
Mister Gansu was looking incredibly worried now, eyeing the bouncers as they paced back and fourth around the room like sharks at the sent of blood on the waves. He tried stand up and leave, but Grabarc was quick to pull him back into his seat, laughing hysterically has he patted the man playfully on the chest. He looked pleading at Zippang, and then at Fae. When he made eye contact with Pixy, his entire world seemed to come crashing around him. He tried to speak, but all he could manage was a series of guttural sobs has he groveled in Grabarc's arms. He tried to shake free from the pirate with little success, eventually turning towards CJ. It was the first time either had so much as acknowledge the Gallente, oddly fitting now that he was the only man in the room that could save is hide. His eyes, wide and watery, were filled with a infinite helplessness that should never be seen on the face of such an elderly and outwardly dignified man.
It mattered little. He was just another rat, trying to flee a sinking ship.
Galm's mind was still heavily dampened, relying on Grabarc to truly piece the rest of the scene together.
"Now Mister Gansu here has, for lack of a better term, shafted me. I have big plans for this place, none of them involve a club in such a state of disarray! I mean... Have you taken a look around? It's a mess! But you know what? I'm a forgiving guy. Just like I'm going to forgive you Pixy, I am going to forgive him. I'm not going to kill you, and I am not going to gut this old baka. But you see, reperations still need to be paid in full! Blood for blood, and cash for cash. My solution is threefold!"
He used his free hand to make a wide, sweeping motion across the club.
"This flake's little old life is worth more than he can pay me for the price of this establishment. He winds up dead, I claim the place via imitate domain, I can regain the profits lost on renovating this place and finding new management by the income it generates. You know halfbreed, regular Caldari business practice. You cleave him appart, you repay the blood you owe me. Not only that, but once you've done that to prove just how sorry you are for leaving me I'll offer you the best setup this side of the Perimeter. You want to get back into fighting here? Okay, but you do it for me like the good old days. You do that and I'll be more than willing to pay you the price of the Templar, with even more money from all those winnings."
"The templar is free," Galm found himself shouting, a wide smile playing across his lips, "Like I said, he was a gift."
Grabarc cocked his head, eyeing Jester carefully.
"Right... So this guy is... Just part of your team? Customs told me you brought a whole ship of spooks with you. Well I'll tell you what, I'd be more than willing to buy out your team and make the five of you the most powerful soldiers in Snowfall. That's the gods' honest."
"No fine print? No dues to pay?"
"Son, whatever you want you'll have. I treat my people well. You want a house, you got a house. Someone giving you trouble? I'll see them dealt with. Got any debts? Consider them wiped. And all you have to do is take this first step."
He grabbed Gansu by the chest and threw him off of his chair, sending him rolling over the table between them and onto the floor as the surrounding bouncers cheered in excitement. The promise ran laps in Galm's head. All debts, wiped. It was certainly enticing.
"You got a weapon on you bro?" the guard from before asked, openly brandishing his freshly drawn pistol.
"Yeah," Pixy barked, bending over to pick up the knife he had dropped, "A bomb. A big ******* bomb."
Grabarc applauds once again, obviously entertained.
"This guy! This beautiful, beautiful guy! I can't wait to do business with you again, and with your Gallente friend! Now if you'll excuse me I promised I would have nothing to do with killing this man. I will take my leave, and will see you bright and early at the games tomorrow Fae-haan! We are going to make a lot of money together!"
He strolls out, practically dancing as his guards follow him through the small steel door. In no time at all the only people left in the club are Pixy, Jester, and the sobbing old man in the endless beat of the club.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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|
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
338
|
Posted - 2014.10.13 03:03:00 -
[11] - Quote
Meanwhile...
Everything was simply amazing! Snowfall station was screaming past in a blur of multicolored flashes and garbled shouts and cheering. Galm continued to kick and holler, screaming louder at the rickshaw driver to pull the two mercenaries faster. The poor man was already clearly strained trying to keep the cart upwards on two legs, much less haul the team through the winding roads of the spaceport. He didn't question why he had found himself in a rickshaw... Frankly everything but the present seemed like an odd blur. Whenever he tried to put the parts together his head began to run into overdrive, taping broken shards of memories together until he finally decided it wasn't worth it. Frankly, it all seemed irrelevant compared to the pressing need of enjoying himself in the moment.
He looked over at his Gallente friend, who was clearly significantly less amused than Pixy seemed to be. It was curious that the pair of perfectly healthy gentlemen were relying on the poor bastard in front of them to haul across the station. The sharp shard of rational thought physically hurt, forcing Pixy to react and clench his forehead in anguish. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his stetson out of the way in the process. He did a double take, patting the top of his head to confirm what he though he was seeing.
Yes, he was definitely wearing a stetson now. He carefully reached up and removed the hat, reveling a deep half-healed gash on his scalp that had begun to ooze gossamer nanite-laced blood. Another deep shard came crashing into the forefront of his conscious, making him shutter in shock as a brief moment of lucidness overtook him. That was right... He couldn't walk... At least not very well. Jester had tried to move him out of his seat... And when Galm tried to move he had tripped over Gansu's body. There was enough time to utter a single curse, then he fell forwards and busted his head open on a strip-pole. He leaned backwards, laughing so hard he found it hard to breath as the driver of the cart looked back at the soldier condisendingly.
"Hey hey hey... Wait a minute brah," Pixy started to stagger leaning uncomfortably close to Noah, "That's right, you killed Gansu, for me! Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude... That was cold."
He leaned back, shaking his head.
"Ice cold. Like... Wow... That was ******* awesome! Can you do that again? Can we kill the driver!? C'moooooooon, I wanna see you kill something! That was... Like... Black Eagles stuff back there! A-- Are'ya'black'gle? Are'ye'ya? Cause'that'd be pretty ballin' if I say so m'self guyyyyy. Hey. Hey. Noah. N-n-n-n-no no no no nooooooo-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Noah? NOAH!"
The last shout came out so loud it made the drive jump slightly as he went along his way, shaking his head.
"Noah?... I'm sorry. I just love you so much man. Y'ra good friend."
Pixy reached out and pressed his nose onto the Gallentes, making a single meeeep sound as he retracts it. He smiles boldly and leans back, extremely content with himself. He started to dig through his own pockets, needlessly tossing aside anything he didn't find immediately stimulating. Some lower-value ISK chits, a number of photographs of girls he had never seen before labeled 'Hawkers'-- An odd name for a girl, much less five. Hawkers must have been a popular name on the station twenty years ago-- poker chips, machine coins, robotic eye (he kept that), and a large three pound tube of unprocessed rock salt. He wasn't entirely sure where the carriage was going, but it was apparent that they had already been around the block a fair few times in downtown snowfall looking for it. Which was concerning! They had a match to fight tomorrow! They needed to find some place to sleep!
Wait. No. Yes? No. No! That was what the two were looking for, a place to stay! Another serrated memory burrowed into Pixy's head, this time slightly less painful than before. The mindflood was clearly wearing off, which meant he needed to find someplace with a functioning toilet and mattress immediately before the nausea and subsequent crash took it's toll. The mere though of the horrible after affects on a high like that was enough to make him a little sick, bending over in the cab and threatening to unload the contents of his stomach onto Jester's boots.
"We're going to one of the hostel, right? Pretty sure I mentioned that. Grabarc has them all over the city, giving out hot meals to teenage kid's. It's a roof over their head, gets them a job causing some trouble, so on and so forth. Place is a pirate factory... But nice enough if you're into that non-profit stuff. Should be cozy in there! We could share a bed together! Hoooow romaaaaaaantic! Hahahahaaaah! I'm kidding kakku... I wouldn't want to throw up on your chest or nuthin' when I'm cuddling with you! Kidding again, buddy! I don't do dudes dude!"
Gods and spirits, his words just didn't end! They flew forwards like the waters of life, line after line of ingenious material that Jester was fortunate enough to overhear. He just wished someone was writing down what he was saying or checking his flow, like those Brutor rap's he'd listened to back when he was younger. Oh gods, rapping sounded fun! He need to start rapping that instant! He started with a few head bobs, kicking his feet to the beat before breaking out in song in his seat.
"Running, running, we be runnin' runnin', through snowfall baby? Hellhole? Maybe! But fear no viper, long short tall, me n' my crew gon' **** em' all. Fuckin' all, **** the law. Concord don't know we know how to ball. CJ here? He know how we do! I write this verse from me here to y-- OH LOOK WE'RE HERE!"
The rickshaw came to a rapid haul, practically tossing the soldiers from the vehicle. The man practically threw himself from the bar, bracing himself against a nearby wall as he dug madly for a cigarette.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
338
|
Posted - 2014.10.13 03:13:00 -
[12] - Quote
"Soldier!" the Jin Mei screamed at them in broken Napanii, panting heavy, "I take you here! You take slug and go now! You go now!"
Slug?
Galm slowly lowered himself out of the cart, looking at the rear hitch. There sat a massive fedo, easily 200 pounds pouring over the sides but held in place with a series of crude lashes. Noah shot him a spiteful look, assuming Galm knew exactly why they had picked up such a vial creature along the way. He blinked and everything clicked. Mostly anyway.
Ah, he decided, That's what the tube of salt was for. Damn, that would have been a sight to see.
The two bickered for quite some time, debating who would be the exact one to remove the fedo from the cart. Eventually Galms irrationality won out over Jesters will. Regretfully the poor Gallente dragged the slug to the street corner and tied it off to a nearby bicycle rack, assuming someone would come by and take it for whatever reason. It wasn't either of their concerns what that reason might be, but it would probably be better than being salted to death.
When all was said and done the two charged the hostel, exchanging broken words with the local manager. Galm got about halfway through the conversation with the poor woman before eventually losing all interest and collapsing to the floor, leaving his comrade to deal with getting the pair a room and a hot meal.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
339
|
Posted - 2014.10.20 06:21:00 -
[13] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote:
GÇ£Oh, there are a few sedatives in that bag if he gets to be too much for you. Although IGÇÖm not really sure how effective they will be on him. Lock the door when I leave and donGÇÖt let anyone else in.GÇ¥
With nothing left to say Noah let her get to her job and headed back into the chaos. There was still a number of things he needed to take care of before he called it a night.
((Darn, messed that up. Post coming))
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
342
|
Posted - 2014.10.30 08:14:00 -
[14] - Quote
Sleep was rarely a respite for Galm anymore, only a necessary evil that he was occasionally forced to endure from time to time to keep himself functioning. His clone physiology no longer had any biological need for the practice, but the drugs had taken a massive toll on his system that could only be paid with ample time to rest. There were no dreams, only a mildly refreshing void that smothered his every being for several hours.
His dreams never made any since anymore. There used to be tangible horrors, physical manifestations of his inner fears. In time though those too began to degrade and dilute into nothing more than a kaleidoscope of intangible abstracts. There was nothing left but crushing fear and broken memories as his brain combed every corner of his mind in search of a memory that should have been there. It found nothing, only a broken segment of corrupted data that it couldnGÇÖt begin to process. Occasionally in the muffled static distinct figures began to immerge. In one instant Galm was beating madly against the glass of a CRU, a blistering flame overtaking him. In another he was stepping firmly on the neck of another man, FaeGÇÖs laser rifle charged to full capacity and pressed so firmly against the manGÇÖs face that he began to shriek and blister from the heat.
It was never enough to provide a detailed picture or clear series of events. As soon as though he had a grip on his memories they would slip away and drop him back into that horrifying pool of unknowns. He recalled waking up at least twice that night, digging madly for his nearby bucket to throw up before passing out once again to rejoin the void.
There were no mornings on Snowfall, only a loose coalition of coinciding sleep cycles that everyone seemed to agree to as a good time for fighting. For some Pit Fighters were held first thing in the morning, for others they were the height of a very long GÇÿnightGÇÖ of drinking. Regardless, when Fae finally awoke he was reluctant to haul himself out of bed. As terrible as sleep was for him, it somehow seemed optimal to preparing for another day in Shoashu. He rolled over several times, curling into a pathetic ball as he tried to recall the best locations in the station for breakfast. He arched his way up and blinked at Noah in the corner, who may or may not have been awake. The room was far too dark to tell, and Fae hadnGÇÖt quite mentally prepared himself to turn the lights on.
GÇ£Oi,GÇ¥ he spoke, his voice hoarse and gravely, GÇ£You up kakku? I feel like going out for waffles. You down for waffles?GÇ¥
He sighed, breaking out through his nose as he checked the luminance on his watch.
GÇ£Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah dude, waffles. Loves me some waffles. Chocolate chip waffles with powdered sugar, whipped cream, a tall glass of cold dairy product.GÇ¥
He pulled up his NeoComm in the darkness, sending out a general message to the other mercenariesGǪ Baring Steady, who was no doubt still trapped behind customs. Out of courtesy he sent one the invitation to the captain that had flown their team into Tenal, though he doubted the man would show even if the message was genuine. He was finicky like that.
FROM: Galm Eskola-Fae
SUBJECT: The Most Important Meal of the Day
I am hungry. I suspect you are too. There is a waffle house in the area I know of that probably wonGÇÖt give you botulism. No strippers, no gambling, just good wholesome breakfast with a side of family values fit for the Sarum family. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration but seriously you have to try these waffles.
There will also be bacon, cigarettes, and coffee. (Just make sure you take it black. You donGÇÖt want to know what they do to people here that donGÇÖt take their coffee black.) If you prefer flapjacks I suppose they make those too, but to reiterate let me make myself perfectly clearGǪ You have to try their waffles.
The location is marked on your NeoComm.
-Pixy <3
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
344
|
Posted - 2014.11.02 21:20:00 -
[15] - Quote
Galm didnGÇÖt really walk to the wafflehouse as much as he did cast himself down a flight of stairs and through a series of corridors, each time having the good fortune of having his feet quickly catch under him before collapsing to his knees. If the tight living conditions of the station where good for one thing, it was for catching you when you were very very hung over. Where he may have otherwise fallen on his face he could gracefully slam himself into the side of a building and use his momentum to force himself further across the steel until he hit a doorknob or latch or any other object that was big enough to be a fulcrum to wench Fae back onto his feet. He was unsure exactly where he was going, forcing himself to stop once or twice when something in the window of a passing shop caught his eye.
Using only landmarks and a growing sense of hunger, Pixy managed to muster the direction and discipline to guide himself to the diner. Upon descending a spiral staircase from a street above, Galm found himself in a dingy alley that seemed to catch the industrial runoff that leaked from the grates in the large overpass. It was cramped and incredulously dark when eclipsed by the above bridge. By all logic and reason, this was not a place Fae should be. But gods, that smell!
An overbearing rush of fresh coffee and bacon snaked into his very soul as he continued to practically glide across the street and towards the restaurant. He stopped for a moment just outside, removing the worn stetson hat under the dim glow of a single streetlight. There was a shift to his left, the sound of boots scrapping against wet pavement as Pixy spun to meet it before coming face to face with moreGǪ Familiar features. A quick flash of jet hair so dark it bordered on a deep cerulean bordered a hopelessly pale young man, his face mulched across his entire right side. The sailor wore a fine pressed navy blue blouse, tucked carefully into gray pants to mimic the aesthetic of the Provists from years past. His left arm hung beside him, his sleeve barely covering what as obviously a cybernetic prosthetic that Galm knew continued upward to his shoulder blades. Despite his macabre charm, the man was smilingGǪ Though it was uncertain if that was intentional or if his scars simply made it impossible to do otherwise.
GÇ£Ah, Morgan,GÇ¥ Pixy began, unsure if he should be excited or disappointed, GÇ£You made it. I wasnGÇÖt sure you were going to show.GÇ¥
GÇ£Yeah,GÇ¥ the capsuleer groaned, his voice cyberneticly augmented, GÇ£DonGÇÖt get used to it. I just wanted to make sure you havenGÇÖt gone 514 yet.GÇ¥
Galm was taken back, blinking in disbelief before retorting.
GÇ£I donGÇÖt need you babysitting me Wulver, and I donGÇÖt take kindly to you questioning my ability as a soldier.GÇ¥
GÇ£Ohhh Fae, my old friend,GÇ¥ the capsuleer breathed, rolling both his sleeves up to flash his robotic appendage, GÇ£I think IGÇÖm about the only one left alive who still has that right. ArenGÇÖt I? Look, I know weGÇÖve both been itching to clear the air about a few things but weGÇÖre on a mission for gods sakes! The street outside a waffle bar is no place us to fight, we can do that back at Matais with over stiff drinks like adults. IGÇÖm just here for food and GÇÿwholesome family values.GÇÖ You can take that to your grave.GÇ¥
GÇ£Oh trust me, I will.GÇ¥
GÇ£Oh trust me,GÇ¥ he coughed, raising a finger to make a correction, GÇ£I have.GÇ¥
The two immortals stood there for some time, each tense while the other stood their ground. Galm was the first to turn away, tucking his head into the diner as he pushed past the set of two heavy glass doors. The interior was quant, if not slightly dim. The chrome tables and chairs reflected the small amounts of fluorescent light that leaked from the buzzing glass fixtures that hung from the ceiling. A single fly traced circles through the caf+¬ around the heads of the immortals that had beaten Galm there. Vyzion sat happily in his white lab coat, munching away at a large stack of flapjacks as Hunter sat nearby asleep on the table. Thal parked himself beside the two, obviously pleased with himself from what must have been an eventful evening prior judging from the clear lipstick smeared across his face. In the back sat some vaguely familiar Amarr beside some fat pungent Caldari, though Fae could hardly be bothered with locals anymore. Instead he waved his hat in a wide sweeping motion, tossing one hand to the side to slam into WulverGÇÖs chest.
GÇ£Howdy!GÇ¥ he thundered as Morgan doubled over to regain his breath, GÇ£Sorry IGÇÖm late. Had to stop for a few things and all that. YouGÇÖve met Captain Varc--GÇ¥
GÇ£You can call me Wulver,GÇ¥ the capsuleer coughed dryly, waving a hand halfheartedly as he pulled himself back to his feet,
GÇ£Pleasure to meet all of you. So happy to see my old pal can keep some new friends!GÇ¥
He grinned impishly, jabbing the halfbreed hard in the ribs with his cybernetic limb. The two pretended to laugh, moving on to outright punching each other in the alley until the waiter finally broke the two up. She sat the two next to each other at a bar seat, demanding that they order something if they wanted to keep taking shots at each other. Galm was quick to place his ordered, frantically asking for the largest stack of chocolate chip waffles they could muster and a huge mug of milk to chase it down. The waiter nodded happily, giggling gleefully at his enthusiastic charm while she turned to Morgan. He ordered a single cup of coffee, obviously struggling make eye contact with the young woman. She rolled her eyes and disappeared into the back with their order, shouting all manners of orders in Napanii to her cooks.
GÇ£Seriously?GÇ¥ Galm asked, glaring at Wulver, GÇ£ThatGÇÖs it? Black coffee?GÇ¥
GÇ£Breakfast of champions,GÇ¥ he breathed sarcastically.
GÇ£Oh come on. At least let me get you a smoke and a pancake.GÇ¥
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
344
|
Posted - 2014.11.02 21:22:00 -
[16] - Quote
Morgan shook his head, looking very concerned for Pixy. Galm dug into his pocket, pulling and lighting two menthols. He let one hang from his mouth has he tried to push the other one onto Wulver. Morgan eventually gave in, taking a single puff from the disgusting smoke before putting it out on the table in front of them.
GÇ£No? DonGÇÖt want a flapjack and a cigarette? Oh about a cigar and a waffle? Pipe and a crepe? Bong and a blGÇöGÇ£
GÇ£Gods!GÇ¥ he shouted, slapping his hands down on the counter, GÇ£I just want my fracking coffee!GÇ¥
The waiter came back that moment, practically throwing the mug of coffee at the capsuleer as Wulver sank deep into his chair in embarrassment. The two sat there for some time in silence until GalmGÇÖs first stack of waffles came up, the waiter taking great care to make a happy face in whipped cream before stepping away.
GÇ£Well then,GÇ¥ Fae began, talking through a full mouth as he took his first bite, GÇ£Then there is no pleasing you Morgan.GÇ¥
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
344
|
Posted - 2014.11.05 07:51:00 -
[17] - Quote
Vyzion Eyri wrote:
"So... where's Jester?"
"Who can say," Galm barked through a mouth full of waffle, "I'm not married to the man. He was with me when I left my room this morning. I got a bit side tracked and took a different route than him. The man is an adult, I'm certain he can handle himself doctor."
Fae shook his head spitefully and took a long sip of his milk, breathing out only after he had drank the entire glass. He let the cool cup hang in his hands for a moment, then let it rest gently against his temples. Despite his outward enthusiasm, the man was obviously wearing himself thin. Dried patches of blood still traced down his forehead where he had made contact with the strip pole the night before, and there were all manners of stains across his jacket that not even Fae could identify. He could have washed up before leaving for the day, but what was the point? Soon he'd be back out there in the pits for the first time in a long time, bloodied and broken but idolized by those in the stands... Assuming he was victorious.
In the past he had been so mindful of his personal hygiene, if only to maintain the illusion that he was still human, but now was different. His body was a tool at his disposal for this mission and nothing more. All he needed to do was drag it to the end of the assignment, and if his current coil couldn't make the journey he was more than happy to crawl into a second skin and start anew. He glanced over his fellow comrades, wounding if they knew exactly how far he was willing to go to keep his cover. The people of Snowfall demanded a certain showmanship from Pixy in the years past, and he was all too keen on letting his old sins take flight for the sake of the mission. In honesty, the real difference between him and a Gurista were negligible. Both were willing to forsake necessary protocols and social conventions for the sake of their best interests. It was just so unfortunate that the people of Snowfall weren't in Fae's best interest.
As he glanced over the mercenaries, his eyes briefly caught those of a nearby local. At first Galm grimaced, shaken to find himself looking into the eyes of some deadbeat and his fat lowlife counterpart. He turned around quickly, trying to make trivial conversation with Morgan. The capsuleer was in no mood to assist and continued to sip his coffee in silence, leaving Pixy to awkwardly look around the room and try in vein to not look back in the direction of the vagrant.
Except... No... That was no vagrant! Galm slammed the glass onto the counter and spun his stool around to face the Amarr, shouting over any conversations the soldiers may have been having among themselves.
"Kador!" he thundered, "You look like hammered ****!"
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
344
|
Posted - 2014.11.06 07:08:00 -
[18] - Quote
True Adamance wrote:
GÇ£You guys actually spend time with this tool?GÇ¥ He asked them, leaning over the gap nudging Vysion in the ribs playfully with and elbow. GÇ£Oh hey those look really good, might get some for myself huh? Good taste JaijiiGǪ.whereGÇÖs that pretty waitress huh? But seriouslyGǪ.. GÇ£
Galm let his head hang for a moment, sighing with contempt as he began to pull himself from his chair. Morgan put a single hand on his shoulder, forcing the mercenary back into his seat.
"Let it go man," the empyrian groaned in a jaded tone, "He's just a baseliner."
"Yeah," Fae growled, "Just a baseliner."
"Yes," Morgan spat with emphasis, "Just a baseliner. The guy's an insect, no use getting your boots dirty by going over and stepping on him."
Morgan spun back around, facing away from the two. He signaled for another cup of coffee, leaving Fae to his own devices. He had long learned that there really was no controlling Pixy. All he could ever hope for was to put an idea in his head and hope that he decided to see things your way. What he did to the fat Caldari meant little to him, but it did seem like such a horrible way to start his day if he had to see another baseliner beat into the dirt. While looking away, Galm had long since crossed the room between the two and made his way to Makoai.
Quote:GÇ£You have no room to talk Fae.GÇ¥ Noah spoke in a deadpan tone.
The soldier tossed himself into a booth next to the others, sitting sideways with his legs hanging out the end of the booth. For the sake of appearances Noah ordered a cup of coffee, but he was going to refrain from eating any food. Besides it looked like Junko and Vyzion were eating enough for all of them. He leaned his head up against the wall and expelled a large amount of smoke from his lungs.
Galm snapped his head to the Gallente, grinning slightly as he took a long drag from his clove cigarette. He chuckled for a moment, then took a seat in the booth with Kador. Shaking his head, he drew out his package of menthols and pursed one between his lips before lighting it with a steel zippo.
"See, I think Jester has the right idea here," he chuckled through a cloud of smoke, "A smoke does me good. Takes the edge off... You want one? Mister-- I'm sorry, what was your name?"
The halfbreed happily placed the still burning menthol behind his ear and extend the package out to Makoai, shaking it to pressure him into taking one. The grubby filth took one, his hand shaking slight... Though out of fear or anticipation he did not know. Before he could open his mouth to introduce himself, Galm dropped the package onto the table between the two.
"Oh gods and spirits, sorry! Clumsy hands! Could you pick that up for my kirjuun? It'd sure be a kakkush, jaalan."
The sudden change to his more formal tongue was enough to set the man on edge, but he was forced to oblige as he reached forward to pick up the package of smokes. As soon as his hand made contact, Galm threw his arm down and connected square with his wrist. It gave a horrific pop, easily splintering into pieces internally as the joint hit the table before the rest of his hand. Rapidly, Pixy pulled the menthol from behind his ear and dug it into the hand of the Caldari, grinding it into his skin before it went out in a puff of smoke. The man hollered more in rage than fear or pain as Galm gave him back his hand when he began to recoil.
"You pull a comment like that to me again slug and it's going to be a knife going through your hand, you hear me? Kador, where did you even find this worm?"
Typical, Morgan thought to himself as the waiter came back nonchalant with his third cup of coffee, it always degrades to violence with him.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
344
|
Posted - 2014.11.09 23:33:00 -
[19] - Quote
True Adamance wrote:
GÇ£Easy there Fae-haan, this guyGÇÖs a promoterGǪfact heGÇÖs our promoter, and heGÇÖs on board about theGǪ..GÇ¥
Kador leaned in closer to the half-breed to whisper.
GÇ£The maaatch fixingGǪ.heGÇÖs on board for thatGǪ. Just the kind of guy I need to get my GÇ£equipmentGÇ¥ shipped in discretely.GÇ¥
"The maaaaaatch," Fae growled, "We don't need any match fixing. We can punch through this on our own, we don't need some promoter to do it."
He sat back down next to Morgan, wiping his hands swiftly against his linen napkin before diving back into his breakfast. He flashed his butter knife at the elderly Caldari, making a quick stabbing motion before turning back to his waffles. He shook his head and kept speaking, flashing a charming smile at the waiter in an attempt to difuse the situation,
"You want my advice Kador? Dump the grub in some trash can, you won't have to pay him for his services. Better yet, pay off a guard to flush him out an airlock. Less people who know the better... Save for you dollface, you know I'd never hurt you."
The waitress rolled her eyes, pouring Morgan his sixth cup of coffee.
"You're not the first immortal coming into the bar to talk ****," she breathed through a set of pursed lips, "Certainly not the first to come in with some doom driven plan. Just pay for the waffles and get the **** out before doing whatever you wanna do."
She was a jaded thing, her apron splattered with all manners of batter and beverages. Her hands were covered in scrapes and bruises, with thick tally mark scars running up her forearms. Her's was a common story on Snowfall. All was fine at a superficial glance, but broken and bloodied on the inside. In other words, she was Fae's people. He had a way with the people of Shoashu, and his reputation certainly didn't hurt. He knew he didn't have to worry about her saying anything to Grabarc's men.
Hunter Junko wrote:"but i hear that the next round of bouts is going to be a 'battle-royale' sort of match, Galm is that true?" she inquired, putting aside her pates and leaning towards the tables looking at her employer.
Fae spoke through a mouthful of food, nodding lightly while he watched the server disappear into the back.
"Yeah, so about that... The plan was to use start the plan during the preliminaries, but things got a bit out of hand yesterday. We're... We're working for Grabarc now. Or so he thinks anyway. Our 'team' is sponsored officially but Grabarc's men, just like my original contract on Snowfall. He takes forty percent of the winnings, and in exchange he'll give us a run of the station and a whole mess of fame. If we win this, he'll want to meet us personally to congratulate us. Penthouse suite, big parties, the he's going to pull out all the stops."
He rolls his eyes, turning around to face his comrades.
"The snake was always flashy like that. But we need to make sure we secure enough winnings to have us in the finals. You want to get that far, you need to survive. If you make don't make it that far, get ready. I'm going to have Morgan give you access to your military clone reserves in a cargo bay. Your equipment will be in a separate box, but frankly there should be enough hardware to loot in the hanger to keep you well armed. You can do that, right Wulver?"
The capsuleer nodded, polishing off yet another cup of coffee.
"Aye," he confirmed with slightly cybernetic voice, "Already done. I'll be heading out tonight to get Steadyhand off the station. Sooner or later the Guristas are going to come looking for him, and it's probably better off that he get out of here while he still can. I'll pick up something special for you that should help with shutting this place down."
"Good. Any of you need to load into a new body, I need you scouting the area and placing bombs. See what guard positions you can start to disable before strike tomorrow. Do it clean and quiet. No one can know we're here. Makoai is it? You do... Whatever it is you agreed to do. On top of that, I need eyes and ears inside the station. Marking targets, getting us reservations, and getting that wrist checked out. If your on our team then you might as well have a working arm. Are we all clear on what needs to get done."
"Clear," Morgan thundered, tossing a set of ISK chits on the counter. He stormed out, more in determination than anger without so much as saying goodbye.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
350
|
Posted - 2014.11.22 07:13:00 -
[20] - Quote
Galm eyed the mercenaries one by one, each one doubtlessly suited to the task ahead of them. He wouldnGÇÖt have selected them otherwise. Granted, their individual skill and expertise was highly valued but above all he valued their sheer willingness as a collective to bring Snowfall crashing down. Thal was a Templar through and through, and he had already convinced Kador to see this mission through for better or worse. HyaGÇÖsalia was a troublesome case however. On one hand she seemed far more humane than her counterparts, a trait that could easily jeopardize the entire mission. On the other, she was easily manipulated and carried an air of fatalistic gloom that let Fae know she had already decided in her mind to comply with whatever was ordered of her. HeGÇÖd almost pity the woman, if he had the luxury to do so.
Noah was a separate beast entirely. He was experienced, and seemed to be better equipped to the pirate lifestyle than any of the soldiers there with the exception of maybe Fae himself. He was always so analytic, constantly calculating methods of taking control of a situation as soon as a problem presented itself and not a minute before it became opportune to do so. It was unsettling to observe, but had already proven its worth at least twice so far. The man had seen to GalmGÇÖs safety the night before, and proven his dedication when he executed Gansu. He was a valuable member to the team, but he wondered exactly how much of a loose end heGÇÖd play in the future.
Vyzion remained a mystery. He seemed a caring man, a trait that would be nothing but a hindrance once the bombs began to go off across the station. Still, he had volunteered willingly to have his own explosives placed inside his body. Fae occasionally saw the odd twitch the man gave, the minor neurotic behaviors that he found typical in a soldier who had GÇÿgone five-one-fourGÇÖ as empyreans often called it. Sooner or later every immortal soldier came to it. Where capsuleers so often suffered a gradual moral and emotional erosion overtime, GalmGÇÖs particular flavor of immortality was prone to sporadic fits of stress-induced dementia. While the muted insanity that has comrades seemed to experience were minor symptoms compared to the unexplained schizophrenic breakdown of first-generation soldiers, it was still enough to inherit the name from psychological evaluations from years past. The two soldiers shared a mutual bond of madness, and that was enough for Pixy to trust him to complete his assignment.
Pixy grunted in amusement at the thought, tossing a series of ISK chits onto the counter as he made his way out of the waffle house. He lifted his hat slightly as he pushed through the door, tipping at the mercenaries as he proceeded out the door. The walk through the streets of Snowfall seemed short in comparison to the rather lengthy and awkward breakfast. He paused at a street corner for a moment on the way there, nodding his head to the tune of a nearby street performer as she strummed away at her guitar. A damp cardboard sign written in running marker played out her woes as masterfully as the lyrics to the song that she shared with the inattentive masses. As he stood there, shelling out an obscene amount of chits to the stupefied woman Galm could only think back to his fellow soldiers.
He pondered silently why some went mad while others continued intact. Had some simply not reached that point yet? Where others just better at hiding it? Did the answer to either really change anything? Everyone in Snowfall used to have a particular image played up whenever someone said the name Pixy, but almost universally it had something to do with some doped-up-halfbreed-immortal-Dragonaur-wash-out doing gods-know-what to spirits-who-cares. It was hard trying to remember who he was then, and it frightened him that he may not be able to live up to the image of destruction that GÇ£PixyGÇ¥ (ironically enough) had become associated with. He had selected his team so carefully, but more than anything he was afraid heGÇÖd be the one to fail before anyone else.
Lost in thought, the remaining walk to The Pits was considerably shorter than he had anticipated. Before he had any time to truly steel himself, he found himself standing at the steps in front of a massive public gathering between corroded chain link fencing. Massive screens above displayed highlight reels from the evening before, flashing between several sets of familiar faces Galm at met at one point or another. In the distance, bass thundered through a series of drum beats as the opening evens began of the daily session.
WellGǪ Not that the games ever truly ended on Snowfall. If anything it was just one big long halftime as immortals took a momentary pause in the action to pull themselves together and blow the money that had just earned for yet another night of brawling. It was a charmed life, keeping you just entertained enough to ignore your own downward spiral of addiction.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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|
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
350
|
Posted - 2014.11.22 07:15:00 -
[21] - Quote
"**** hot!GÇ¥ an oddly jarring voice hollered above the crowd, GÇ£Is th--GǪ Yeah, yeah, thatGÇÖs Galm Fae! Hey guys, thatGÇÖs Galm! PixyGÇÖs here yGÇÖall!GÇ¥
Oh gods no. Please, no, anything but these annoying station rats.
There was a piecing shriek of five or six different voices, then a small mob of young women and wanna-be pirate flushed themselves out of the woodwork in a huge circle around the immortal.
No! No! Anything but station rats and groupies!
He began to sulk as more and more onlookers gathered around him, each hoping to snap a new picture of the man or get his attention in any way.
GÇ£Pixy! Pixy! You owe me 600 ISK *******! You were suppose to go ten rounds! Ten rounds!GÇ¥
GÇ£EyGÇÖer! Boy! YGÇÖgna fight today? MGÇÖlas aGÇÖhas thinGÇÖ for yaGÇÖ! YGÇÖwouldnGÇÖt mind if you shag GÇÿer while I watch? GÇÿEr idea! Not mine!GÇ¥
GÇ£What the hell kind of a name is Pixy anyway, eh?GÇ¥
GÇ£IGÇÖve heard all of these you unimaginative twats,GÇ¥ Galm spat, pushing through two or three different people before pausing momentarily, GÇ£EhGǪ Except the cuckold thing that wasGǪ Creative, IGÇÖll give you that.GÇ¥
He pressed on, plowing through several more sets of fans until one threw herself onto him as she clung to his shirt. He meant to deflect her off gently, but instead sent himself crashing to the ground with her on top of him. The two rolled around on the dirty concrete for some time has he kept squirming around to find a way out from under the clearly intoxicated spectator. The crowd continued to grow as he twisted and swore, before eventually dispersing as a crew of armed Guristas encircled the two. No less than three gunmen pulled the woman off the ground and escorted her away as another pulled the mercenary to his feet.
GÇ£Shite,GÇ¥ he barked through a tightly wrapped scarf below a set of dirty goggles, GÇ£Looked that that one cGÇÖanny keep her hands off yaGÇÖ, amGÇÖIGÇÖright?GÇ¥
GÇ£Yeah,GÇ¥ Pixy breathed, knocking the dirt off his jacket, GÇ£Sorry, weGÇÖve met before havenGÇÖt we?GÇ¥
GÇ£Aye. I checked you at the gate when your pet Templar had his little **** fit. Folks round here call me Charlie. IGÇÖve been assigned to your personal security detail, Grabarcs orders.GÇ¥
GÇ£Security detail?GÇ¥
GÇ£YesGÇÖsir,GÇ¥ he huffed with a nod, GÇ£Some damn poor bloke turned up dead in a nearby club last night. Boss wants to make sure that his lads are well taken care of seeinGÇÖ how dangerous the streets are.GÇ¥
GÇ£Sure, sure, now that IGÇÖm back on them.GÇ¥
GÇ£Well yeahGǪ But IGÇÖm being payed to pretend that I donGÇÖt know that and that I didnGÇÖt hear nothinGÇÖ from you just now. Now cGÇÖmon cowboy, we gotta get yGÇÖcleaned up for the first act. YouGÇÖre the opening act today.GÇ¥
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
353
|
Posted - 2014.12.10 07:54:00 -
[22] - Quote
The staging area was perhaps one of the only remaining areas of Snowfall that clung to its heritage as a formal Caldari outpost. The zone was forged of cold steel, cutting away into a series of corridors and passageways that lead between armories, medbays, and aging barracks used to accommodate soldiers in between brief, violent skirmishes in front of the masses. The deep, heavy bass from outside of the compound still resonated through the building though it was muffled with a certain solemn atmosphere. As Pixy weaved through the passages with his armed escorts he occasional made eye contact with one or two fighters before breaking away and moving along. All of them remained tense, though not all of them displayed that fact in the same fashion. Some puffed madly at ridiculous amounts of cigarettes as others cranked out endless repetitions of calisthenic workouts before their next match. The crowd of gladiators parted and flowed around Charlie and his mercenaries as Galm drew closer to the heart of the facility. Fae grinned for a brief moment, unsure if his competition was sizing him up or merely confirming what they were seeing unfold.
"I'm guessing not everyone gets their own escort service?" Pixy ventured, sliding around a corner and finally coming to a stop in a small personal locker room. Charlie scoffed, slamming the door shut behind them as he set down his weapon and began to unroll his scarf.
"Mate, words getting around that the Pixy is back in town. Some folks seem to think you made Grabarc pretty nervous with that whole display going through customs yesterday."
"You think escorting me in with five Guristas is going to defuse that tension?"
The four other guards laughed among themselves, exchanging dirty looks as they all eyed the immortal before them.
"The opposite," Charlie corrected, "We want to make you look like a mad dog that Grabarc can turn lose whenever he needs. It's good for the show, good for profits, and when you win all of this and have a grand time celebrating with all the toasts of the town it's going to look good for Zipang too. We're giving you a roll, and he expects you to play it. You need to be damn savage out there."
Galm nodded his head, pondering the implications as Charlie removed the last of his headgear. The man was of ambiguous ethnicity, with multiple odd runic symbols branded into fleshy neck. His face, while marvelously chiseled, bore more than a fair amount scar tissue that seemed to hold his handsome features together. He slung his submachine gun over his shoulder and let it hang there once more, the lime green paint scheme standing out against the greyscale barracks.
"It's like this," Charlie continued, pointing his gun for emphasis, "That surge out there? All those immortals looking at you? Some might have seen that as them smelling blood in the water. You know what I saw out there Caldari? I saw a mako coming, and all the little fish keeping their distance but eager to see which one of them you swallow up first."
The analogy had a certain charm, forcing the soldier to nod his head slightly before nodding slowly. From there, Galm began the process of readying himself. Sinking back into his warm-up routine was easy, even with the multiple guards keeping close tabs on every little movement he made. Before stripping down, he carefully tucked his bomb vest away in a locker and sealed it away behind biometric padlock. It was difficult to steady his breath long enough to avoid suspicion as he locked the explosives away and began to change into a set of close provided by Grabarc's men. His thoughts lingered on it as he pulled the shirt over his head, contemplating if the locker would contain enough oxygen to ignite the congealed incendiaries. As long as the inital ignition was powerful enough it would easy have the explosive and thermal potential to rip through every corner of the empyrian bunker beneath the pits by spreading through ventilation systems and corridors. Once the weapon achieved enough energy to initiate an omnidirectional thermal pulse, there wouldn't be much stopping the bloody thing.
A sharp pain stabbed into Fae's forearm, causing him to shake it off violently and send one of the guards stumbling to the floor with a hypodermic needle.
"Charlie, what the ****? What did he just inject in me?"
"Be cool, be cool Caldari," he laughed, signaling his men not to raise their weapons, "Just a little something to take the edge off. Figured you needed it. A bit o' nanites, bit o' biofoam, tiny bit of Crash... S'all good, eh?"
"No, not s'all good you little roach!" Fae barked, "The hell kind of back-planet indigenous shithole did you climb out of to think that's custom!"
"Gotta come from somewhere mate," the tribal laughed, "I can damn well tell you the Guristas gave me a better life than the State woulda, so just lighten up a bit and let me do my job. Grabarc wants you to have an edge out there."
The thought finally occured to Galm that Charlie was no 'Charlie' at all. There were plenty of rumors about men like him across the cluster, of native populations displaced by Caldari corporate expansion in the wake of heavy industry. Those that weren't crush by bulldozers trying to defend their homeland usually ended up finding a life wherever they could, often at the cost of their own cultural identity. That being said, 'Charlie' still seemed like a pretty **** poor name to settle on if he wanted help fitting in with a bunch of Caldari pirates. The two stood there momentarily at a standoff before a buzz on the Gurista's datapad.
"Shite," he groaned, flicking through his messages once he pulled it from his pocket, "Me and my boys need to leave for a bit, something about trouble at the hospital. Think you can handle yourself for a bit?"
"Oh, I think I can manage."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
362
|
Posted - 2015.02.01 08:06:00 -
[23] - Quote
The walkway was a dangerous place to be. Between the thundering applause and the flash of the lights all of your inner resolve was washed out, leaving nothing but the physical character left to play for the masses. Galm enjoyed his last few seconds of silence in the darkened staging area before the doors swung open before him, giving way to a walkway rising above a pit of cheering spectators. The heat lamps snapped to him as a series of strobes fired off like neurons one after the other down the line. Galm took a deep breath and ran his hair to one side as he pressed forward into the storm. He cast his gaze blindly through the crowd, his vision incapable of adjusting to match the eyes of those staring back at him. He paused for a moment, staring at the image of himself on the overhead projector as the sound system began blasting the opening bars of a familiar but distant song. His Templis Dragonaur tattoo was still etched into his tight core, and the cauterized branding of the Guitarists emblem sat on his left shoulder. The announcer began to thunder over the microphone as meaningless stats began to roll down the screen one after the other, all pertaining to his past life and victories.
"Ladies and gentle,for the first time this fighting season we are gathered here to see Galm 'Pixy' Fae in the gladiator pits. The last time Fae was here the pits were little more than a side project to keep the surge of immortal refugees busy, but few doubt that the man we are about to watch here today was esential in building the sport to what it is now."
Galm snorted at the thought, pulling himself into the arena and slamming his body against the corner as sweat began to pour down his face. The music had become deafening, pouring into his soul with every riff. It was dirty, grungy bass pumped punk rock that brought back more than a few memories that, while under normal circumstances would have been uncomfortable to uncover, felt oddly liberating to let break free for a moment. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing synchronized with the rhythm, silently recalling the lyrics. Just as the acoustic bass began to morph into an electric synth, Galm's first challenger made his way in the stadium
The man had a pension for flare, with a mouth full of tasteless gold teeth and several large chains that circled around his throat. As another score of fans thundered in approval he threw his arms madly into the air, barking like an animal as he drew closer. His camouflaged cargo pants dangled lazily around his waist, a set of useless suspenders dragged helplessly behind him. The announcer began to speak again, the surround music taking on a different tone entirely.
"And now for our second competitor mister Alec Wynn. Affectionately named 'Warlock' for his talents, it looks like Fae might have his work cut out for him. I've heard a lot of people around the station question if Pixy has what it takes to clash with figures like Warlock in a modern death match. Back in Pixy's day there were was less structure but fewer established tactics that modern fighters know of. Warlocks speed will certain be one of those critical x-factors that will prove whether or not Galm has still has the ability to adapt and become a true player in our current tournament matches."
The banter was mildly concerning but thankful whatever context they bore were lost on Pixy. Fighting was fighting, and he had little doubt that much could change in only a handful of years. When the bell finally rang however, it all became abundantly clear that something was amiss. Warlock lashed out immediately, body slamming into Fae before following up with a series of overly dramatic windmill punches. Pixy flinched at first, coiling back into the ropes totally bewildered as he tried to compute just exactly what the hell Wynn was trying to do. Pixy pushed back lightly, if only to eliminate as much skin contact with the man as he could as each windmill punch landed heavily on his laterals. Pulling back from the shove, Warlock began a series of ducks and weaves as his hand moved in a series of confusing patterns that more closely resembled a street performer than a trained pit fighter.
"What am I even looking at!?" Galm shouted in frustration just before a punch glanced across his jaw.
"S'why I'm the Warlock man!" Wynn hollered, releasing another volley of blows across Pixy's collar, "I've got the magic hands! What, no one ever show you this in the p--"
The pit gave a collective gasp as Pixy grinned his teeth together and threw his head forward to make direct contact Wynn's nose. As the man began to fly backwards Fae grabbed hold of his gold chain, pulling him back in for yet another headbutt in exactly the same location. The man fell backwards again before Galm pulled him back in one last time, taking a large bite out of Warlock's ear and letting him stumble back center stage. The entire scene took maybe five seconds, counting a short two second pause were Pixy stood there casually with the ear hanging from his lips before spitting it in the general direction of the 'splatter zone.' He heard the distant sound of a single man vomit, then the confused commentary of the referee.
"It... Would appear that Pixy has just eaten a part of Warlock's ear. While certainly not unheard of in the context of a battle to the death this is rather... Unorthodox."
Warlock rose to his feet, slightly unsteady as he looked Galm square in the eye.
"You batshit crazy ************! What even are you! Who the hell does that! I'm trying to put on a gods damn show here for my fans!"
Several minutes later what was left of Wynn was lying in a broken heap, the scent of his blood filling the room as spectators took care to harvest possible 'souvenirs' that Pixy had left behind. It may have been his first match, but word was already being to spread that the Dragonaur had returned.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
373
|
Posted - 2015.02.04 06:31:00 -
[24] - Quote
Galm stood in the lockers for some time, panting and vomiting into a small drainpipe in the floor. His hand shook violently as he stood there, lost in this own adrenaline rush. The twisting behind his face was worse now than it had been before as unseen tendrils of thought began to crawl underneath his skin, probing different parts of his psyche before taking root and forming a direct connection in his brain. Pixy doubled over, gripping his chest as a series of new memories washed over him from the Seituoda. As he rose he finally took note of his arms, covered in gossamer blood up to his elbows and wrapped in an equally bloodstained chain. A single set of applause began at the rear of the locker room as a sea of observing gladiators parted to reveal a smiling Zipang.
"My. Little. Breadwinner!" the man exclaimed gleefully through an absolutely jubilant grin, "That, my friend, was simply what people had come to expect from you!"
"You made it too easy," Galm panted, gripping tightly to the gold necklace. He was slightly offended, having such an incompetent mercenary thrown against him like he were some sort of washed up has-been in need of pity.
"Well," Grabarc replied with a slight knot in his throat, "Sort of. Warlock was a bit of a fan favorite for reasons around here that continue to allude me. He was your standard crowd pleaser, people through his tacky gold-plated image on everything. T-shirts. Wife-beaters. Lunchboxes. We can't have that anymore now that you're my new champion, ja'feel? Besides, you have a much better... Hmmm... Sex appeal I suppose. Gods know Wynn only wore the chains so he knew where to stop shaving."
"How in the world did a fink like that become a crowd pleasing champion in the first place?"
Grabarc threw his head back and groaned, sliding over on his bench slightly and patting the spot to invite Galm as he reached between his legs to pick up a juice box and offer it to the immortal. Fae snatched the drink skeptically and eyed it over briefly before puncturing the pouch with the sharp plastic straw and taking a spot next to Zipang.
"What can I say Pixy? The gold age of immortal cage matches might be drawing to a close. Back during the uprising when we plucked you and all those other refugees up out of empire space, we had so many that we were shipping them off to backwaters. All these games? Just started as a way to keep all of you from killing each other off... Well... At least we found a way to keep things civil. Then people like you started to expand your horizons and just started to leave. Poof. By-by. It's almost sad, we don't have many of the old breed left. Hell, I suppose I should just be thankful that Snowfall has more to it than a load of crazed mercenaries offing themselves."
Galm gave a critical slurp of acknowledgement from his drink, blowing the pouch off the straw and into Grabarc's face when it was empty.
"I don't expect you to pity me boy'o," he spat, reaching down and grabbing another juice box and passing it to Pixy, "But like it or not you're just as responsible for this station as I am. I remember when your warbarge steamed into port here, loaded up with a whole frickin' sea of other soldiers and their clones. Most people got out of their with their entire units, really started to keep to their own groups and whatnot. But not you. Little Galm Fae, all alone. No unit, no friends. People didn't really want to speak to you, talk to you, get to know you. They all told me the saaaaaaaaaame sad story. The Pixy, the boy whose unit was torn between their ties to the Templis and their own right to survival. Half the ship wanted to kill you for being a Dragonaur, the other half was afraid to touch you after how many Provists you killed down there trying to escape. You had no employer or family, so I came to you and said?--"
Galm took a single sip of his second drink and turned to face Grabarc.
"You asked me if I wanted a job."
"Aye," he breathed knoding his head as he turned to watch Kador on the television, "Aye I did. I like to think I made a friend then. Even though you left for a bit, I'm glad to see a friend return. Hopefully... With some new friends."
Quote:
GǪ.ThatGÇÖs it! THAT IS IT!... Our underdogGǪ. HasGǪ Won! In an unexpected turn of events Hound reversed the tables on the match favourite and brought the expectations of his fan base crashing down around them. All brawn and no graces, our Hound might just be a contestant to watch down the roadGǪ.no doubt those heGÇÖs made himself some fans.
The Udorian surprised Galm, crashing down on his opponent with a force that only years of pent up aggression could accomplish. He felt and odd sense of satisfaction and pride for the man, taking another sip from his blood soaked juice box as he patiently waited for Kador's return to the lockers to join his midday soiree with Advir.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
374
|
Posted - 2015.02.10 07:47:00 -
[25] - Quote
At the sight of the Templar, Grabarc seemed to beam with a sense of sadistic glee as he beckoned the soldier forward. He ducked once again between his legs to reveal a duffelbag lined to the brim with all manners of vials and bottles loaded with a variable playground of boosters.
"And you!" he shouted at Kador, angling his head to Galm, "I owe you just as much as I do my old friend here. Bless the boy's soul, he's one to appreciate the little things. Hand the man a juice box and a good woman and he's happy. You however, I intend to make sure that you are well compensated for your efforts out there. You want to become The Hound? I am more than willing to help you make a beast out of yourself my man!"
Zipang dug deep into the satchel before retrieving a bottle of clear fluid before unscrewing the top and taking a fine whiff himself before placing it back. With another reach he pulled out a plastic vial of blue pills and shook them around for several seconds as he began to laugh impishly. Placing the drugs back into the case he grabbed hold of the strap and held it out for him to take.
"Please accept this. Call it a bit of incentive pay for your first good match! It's my own personal sample platter so you can find something you like. I know you spoiled Amarr types don't quite have a mind for their own pick of street drugs so... I felt it only fair. Here I am, two new champions that are turning heads before the day has even yet begun! The two of you are going to have to make sure you pace yourselves out there, or we'll end up running out of fighters to stack you up against. Of course... I could always pit the two of you against eachother."
Galm set down his second juice box, glaring dead eyed at Grabarc.
"Hey now," Pixy murmured, "There's an idea... Killer work out there imperial, I didn't know you had it in ya."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
374
|
Posted - 2015.02.10 23:58:00 -
[26] - Quote
True Adamance wrote:
"Gotta say I wasn't expecting this Fae. You never told me the pay was this good or that it was so easy to find a good woman this far out. Why you ever left all this for the girl is a mystery to me bud.... I'll be The Hound I guess. Never had a job that pays nearly so good as this one or in a place that has the charm Snowfall does....or the perks."
Zipang froze in place momentarily before rotating slowly to meet Galm's augmented gaze. Galm continued to sit there, shrugging softly as he unwrapped Wynn's chain from around his forearm.
"A girl, eh?" Grabarc questioned, "I thought you left to join up with that BetaMax mercenary group. Said you were itching to get back out there and fight. Hell, after the fuss you made before you left I really didn't have much choice but to let you walk away."
He pulled the halfbreed to his feet, swinging an arm behind him as he met eyes with Kador.
"This guy ever tell you about that? Something set this one off here. Yeah, he was exchanging numbers with his own little band of misfits that had pulled into station, but wasn't until something real vile set him off and he stormed off in a huff. Good to know it was a girl that caused it. Boys, you'll never have to worry about that again in Snowfall. If a girl was the one that set you off, you just let me know who the ***** is and I'll have her taken care of. I care about my people, and she made me lose one... I won't let that happen again."
Galm shook Zipang's arm off and began to storm away into the lockers as other mercenaries turned to watch.
"Galm!" Grabarc shouted after him, "That wasn't a suggestion!"
Pixy spun around on his heal, his augmented eyes now burning a deep red. Advir began to speak again, this time with more authority than his previously lax demeanor.
"Pixy... Someone hurt you, and cost me one of my greatest fighters. I will not hesitate to make sure that they are never a problem again. If you don't tell me, then I'll just have to start asking around until I find out. If I do find out who caused this... Well that would be a sever breach of trust that you can all avoid but just giving me a name. It's not like the ***** means anything to you anymore, right? So who was it then? One of the sign girls? Oh, maybe that one **** who ran the bar outside the old hanger p--"
"She's a nurse," Fae spat without thinking, "Or ex-nurse, whatever. She works at a place called Hawkers now. She used to set me up with drugs to keep me calm in between fights and take care of me until I healed up. When I learned she was just trying to get me hooked on her product I got mad and left. That's all. I felt like I'd been played, and wanted to start making my own choices in life."
Grabarc raised an eyebrow, nodding his head continuously as Fae shared his tale.
"Ah," he replied, rubbing his neck where his tattoo coiled around his throat, "That certainly is a shock. A woman who not only had the poor decency to hurt my people, but to sell her own product second-hand? Right under my nose too. This is troublesome to say the least. Well, I guess that'd make Hawkers cobelligerent in all of this. I'll have the boys take a good look around there and see if I can find this girl for you."
Pixy felt his stomach sink as Grabarc began to gather his effects and leave. It was a damn lie and it tore Fae apart knowing someone would have to suffer on his account, but anything else would have placed Niina at risk. That was simply unacceptable, and if the nurse from the night before needed to die then so be it. It would only further their goal by tying up lose ends. He didn't blame Kador for causing the scene, but he knew the Amarr certainly wouldn't approve.
"Grabarc," Galm called out as the man forced his way through the crowd of immortals, "Where did Charlie go?"
"Oh him?" Advir shouted over his shoulder, "The boys found out some back alley drug den was masquerading as a clinic. They took in patients at the front but funded themselves by selling crash out the back without my consent. I had one of my men go in as a patient and torch the place. Charlie's on clean-up over there taking care of any thugs that show up afterwards. He should be finishing up now. I'll have him meet with up with you once we're done taking care of Hawkers. You just focus on your next match! I believe they have an old friend lined up for you this evening, Pixy!"
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
374
|
Posted - 2015.02.11 00:53:00 -
[27] - Quote
"It doesn't matter," Galm cut in, raising one hand passively, "It'll take care of itself."
He reached down to grab the bag that Kador had nudged away, pulling out a tube of nerve sticks and making quick use of it. The adrenaline from the last match hadn't quite worn off yet, and the conflict with Grabarc certainly hadn't helped to calm him. His head had already begun the characteristic signs of a migraine as he began to shield his eyes from the lights above.
"I should have briefed you about what the man knows, this is my fault not yours. I suppose there's quite a bit that I've tried to keep hidden from you and the team. Need to know basis and all that. I'm just more worried about this whole clinic business. I was almost certain that Snowfall had a monopoly on any and all boosters coming in and out of the station. If what Advir said is true then that means he's been losing his grip on power. Different Gurista gangs have to be trying to make their own products out here, even if Grabarc and his men are trying to crack down on it. Which, I suppose... Leaves two important questions."
He leaned back against the lockers, casually opening his to check that the weapon was still primed.
"Do we really need to destroy the entire station, and where in gods' name is Vyzion?"
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
376
|
Posted - 2015.03.12 03:20:00 -
[28] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote:
He made his way towards the showers to cool himself down after the fight. Galm was the first person he saw upon entering.
"Nice fight there kid dynamite, you look like something that came out the wrong end of a fedo."
Jester's suspicions were confirmed when he got a closer look at Galm. He was high on something.
As he turned towards the showers he saw a stumbling Templar that could barely keep himself upright.
"On second thought he looks like the backside of a fedo, you just look like crap."
While he found it rather humorous that the Templar was experimenting he was pissed Galm had taken anything after last night.
He walked away from the showers and sat down across from Galm.
"So what are you two on and how much." He needed to know if he was going to help the both of them get through it.
As he asked he pulled a pack of clove cigarettes out of his pocket. He shook it, there were only a few left. Returning his gaze to Galm he quietly lit the cigarette waiting for either of them to answer.
"If I'm being honest," Galm began, running his fingers through his hair, "Haven't the foggiest. One of the guards drugged me. It's wearing off now though, I'm sure I'll be fine."
He bent over, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to maintain composure.
"You shouldn't worry about me, soldier. There was a time where I took far more than this in an hour. It's how the man keeps you under his thumb, leaves you chasing that next fix. Bastard's a hell of a salesman, and all the loyalty he needs for his immortals is the bottom of a frenex bottle. No offense to the Templar of course, he did the right thing by accepting. It won't nearly be enough to get him hooked unless he has a history with the poison."
He looked up, the golden chain wrapped around his forearm slowly sliding off as the blood on his hands grew cold in the station air.
"What about you? I must have missed your fight out there, but judging by the look of you it went well. Still got all your bits and pieces?"
He chuckled, thinking back to the first time he stood before the crowd. The thundering and applause mixed with the rush of battle kicked harder than any rifle the first time, but quickly subsided once you became assured in your own victory.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
378
|
Posted - 2015.03.23 00:55:00 -
[29] - Quote
Galm breathed heavily, tugging at a chest rig that was not there before scanning the room as if in search of cover. He ducked slightly lower in his seat, taking a long drag of the surround air before shaking his head violently in a drawn out shout. He pounded lightly against his temples, and looked back at the Gallente before taking a breath and speaking in a pained tone.
"No, I'm sure I'll be just fine," he huffed, wiping a small amount of fluid from his nose, "I can make it back on my own self. Not like you'd be able to call the nurse anymore anyway. Our Amarr friend sought well to that."
He looked down in shame before standing back up and searching the lockers for his shirt.
"There was a bit of a... Misjudgment. Grabarc suspects treason in his midst, but not from us. As far as he's concerned his biggest threats are rival Gurista lords trying to cut in on his hold on Snowfall. Which means we can either, A, murder everyone on this station and make the region safer all in one go... Or B, work with some of the bastards and have someone replace as head of Snowfall after a hostile takeover. I favor A, but I suspect B will save man unnecessary deaths."
He slammed a locker shut in frustration, spinning around to once again meet Noah's gaze.
"Believe it or not I might... Gods help me... Feel for some of the citizens here. Not care, not by a long shot... But I... I guess... Feel... Does that make sense or is that the Crash talking?"
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
|
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
378
|
Posted - 2015.03.24 02:09:00 -
[30] - Quote
"Not really sure," he admitted, defeated, "Grabarc's sending some goons over to do... Well, whatever it is they do. I wouldn't worry about her talking, they're positive she's slinging mindflood and would tell any lie to get her out of the mess I've set for her. It was either lie and have her take the bullet or jeopardize the mission. I know I made the right choice." im
I was a blatant lie that caused him to bite his own tongue in spite of himself. It left a metallic taste in his mouth, a lingering reminder of his own self interest. The mission would have succeeded either way had Grabarc know the truth about h or not. Placing Niina at risk however... That was unacceptable, and worth the lie. Yet he couldn't help but linger on what she might think had she know Galm had just doomed another soul for her sake. He had already decided long before this mission had began that she was already worth the lives of every man, woman, and child of Snowfall Station.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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|
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
378
|
Posted - 2015.03.26 06:16:00 -
[31] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote: GÇ£IGÇÖll see you later.GÇ¥ Jester hooked his fingers into his pockets as he walked out of the locker room, leaving Galm alone.
Galm waited until Jester was just out of reach before spinning around and driving his fist into the locker behind him. The sound was loud enough that he would have certainly heard the impact as he forced the tempered metal to dent inward and knock the door off its hinge. Fae pulled back quickly checking that his hand wasn't too badly damaged and cursing his own lack of self control. He'd certainly done more harm to his hand than the door, his hardened knuckles piecing through the skin as nanites struggled to bind his skin back together as quickly as possible. He clenched it as hard as he could in frustration, forcing the bone further out past the sutcher until it was clearly visible. The pain would have been excruciating were if his body weren't haulting and receptors before he reached the bone, but Fae instead chose to focus on the visual impact and study every individual joint between the bones as yet more blood poured from the wound. He felt oddly at peace with all of it, as if it quelled fire that was burning in the back of his mind for some time now. It was slowly becoming undeniable; the violence of Snowfall suited him.
I'm not letting this get out of hand, he thought as he examined himself, I'm not losing it... I'm not going 514 again.
He froze for a moment, a cold chill running down his spine followed by a surge of endorphins like he had just triggered a combat high. A grin danced across his face as a gasp evolved into a series of manic cackling, all the while gazing down at his bloodied an mutilated hand.
Out of hand, he couldn't help but think to himself, Out of ******* hand! I just got my own joke! Gods and spirits, if Mordu could see me now!
He was never incredibly close to the old man, but he had a habit of getting aquanted with all the youth who grew up in Mordu's Legion Central Command. As a child Fae looked forward eagerly to the day when the war hero Muriya Mordu would take time out of to stop along his way to make a poor orphan smile, sometimes to embarrassing lengths that involved eccentric clothing and groan-inducing puns. As he grew older he lost that appreciation... Then quickly grew to miss it once he no longer had the luxury of the mercenary's company. It was unlikely he ever suspected Galm of being a Dragonaur. I just wasn't that uncommon for a young man to sign up in the Legion one week and be dead the next, and he doubted Muriya had the heart to keep track of every young man and woman who his operations had sent to an early grave. He was sure that he had abandoned Galm and the rest of Warrior Team long ago. And if rumors circulated of a certain team of Templis mercenaries that had shot their way out of Pure Blind and were found guilty of committing particularly heinous war crimes during the clone uprising?
Those were just rumors. Rumors that would dispel with time. In time, no one would ever remember Pixy and the what he did back in the Seituoda. He was amazed it ever worked, but in a Provist controlled government it was easy to funnel Dragonaurs into corporate kill teams across the sector. Even if Heth never trusted immortal soldiers, he would be damned if he ever let them have an advantage of a Kaalakiota controlled State. It was difficult to determine, however, if slipping Pixy into the immortal soldier program was a form of infiltration or corporate espionage. In honesty the two seemed ubiquitous, and ultimately irrelevant to the situation at hand.
That was Pixy's life. Not Fae's.
A scuff on the concrete next to him made him painfully aware of the fact that he had been cackling to himself for an uncomfortable amount of time now, forcing him to snap to a defensive position and compose himself as he came face to face with what appeared to be a young Khanid draped in a bomber jacket painfully similar to Galm's own. He stood there for several sends, dumbfounded as he unfolded his aviator sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt collar.
"Uh... Saisa," the young man began, "Are y-- Y'okay dude? Because I can come back if I need to, I ugh... Imma bit of a fan I guess and I kinda wanna be like you and I've never actually seen you in person and I've seen a lot of your old vids on the net and all the girls used to wear shirts with your face on them and I'm not saying they were just for girls because I used to wear one too and I'm still talking so this is a little weeiiiirrrrrrrrrrd... But at least I'm not talking to myself! So can I have your autograph?"
Fae rolled his eyes before wiping his knuckles across the kid's chest, vaguely spelling his initials in Caldari block letters.
"There a reason they let you back here choirboy," Fae spat as he wrote, "Or does every Gurista in the joint have their head up their ass?"
"Excuse me?" the Khanid spat, "You're looking at a Gurista! You've probably never heard of me yet, but I'm kinda gonna be a big deal. I actually just signed up to be one of the first Valky--"
"Yeah, I don't care. Sorry, mister... eh..."
"Silber, m-my name's Ilya Silber. Y'should probably add that in your contact log if you're going to be around here a while! We can trade war stories and get a drink or--"
"Yeah, I'm not. And you should be either. Sell that stupid jacket online to get a plane ticket off this station while you c--"
"But this is my real jacket, I'm a fight p--"
"And get out of here while you can."
There was an awkward silence as Galm retracted his hand, staring at his handiwork on Ilya's jacket. Deciding that it needed a bit of artistic flare he pulled himself back in and began drawing a small cartoon pixie in gossamer blood underneath his signature. Ilya stood their uncomfortably, racking his mind to make small talk with the grizzled veteran.
"So... How 'bout that Thal Vadam?"
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
384
|
Posted - 2015.05.18 07:06:00 -
[32] - Quote
Thal Vadam wrote:
"Thal here, where am I wanted?"
Galm straightened himself out, observing his work from a small distance while his augmented vision relayed Thal's message to the team. He cocked his head puzzled for a moment before once again meeting gaze with the young Gurista in front of him. The kid scratched his neck awkwardly, unsettled by the seamless shift in the color of Galm's left iris from an incandescent gold to a shining emerald.
In the early days of technological prosperity throughout the State, very clear distinctions needed to be made between the convenience of enhanced existence and virtual reality. Even with years of acclimation and development the integration of VR had an initially devastating effect on the State, proving itself the electronic equivalent of crash as tiresome workers would be all to eager to arrive home and slip under their helmet into a world of their own making. Inside the net, a single artificer could lose himself before waking up one morning to find that the only joy in their life was none but pixels and code. Those that didn't commit suicide frequently became vagabonds and political dissidents, working just enough to keep themselves alive so they could live to feel another digital rush. Outside of select sports stars, VR had come to be seen in the Caldari eye as one might look towards the most debased violent pornography. Augmented reality however, allowed those few willing to overcome the stigma to find a place in society that could balance themselves between the here-and-now and the then-and-when while simultanously increasing their overall productivity. Yet, clearly, there had never been enough out there to make Galm's simple parol trick common in the eyes of the young pilot before him.
"Funny you should mention the brute actually," Fae grumbled, more to himself than Silber, "Seems like he just finished his last match. Good for him."
His eyes cycled through hues of red and blue as he formated a brief responce to the man and sent it on its merry way to his datapad.
Quote:The Udorian might be in a spot of trouble. Maybe guns, maybe not. Be a lamb and see too that he doesn't get himself shot. Toxin weapons hurt like a *****!~
-Pixy
He shut his eyes, composing himself for a brief moment before they rearranged themselves into their usual dim gold. He looked once again to the Gurista before him, shook his head lightly, and began to turn away down the concrete hall. When the young man called after him, his voiced echoed through the bunker and off the tritanium lockers while the eyes of several resting gladiators turned to meet him.
"**** off!" Pixy shouted over his shoulder, waving his bloody knuckles through the air, "I'm going to get myself a drink. No time to talk to a slackjawed fan all day!"
"But you're on again in forty minutes!"
"I am?"
Galm spun on his heel, clicking them both together with a martial discipline before bounding back into the main room with a single push of his calves. Other gladiators, now eagerly watching the scene unfold, chuckled lightly as they shook their heads in mild disbelief that this man could possibly be the very same Pixy that had cut his way through fourteen consecutive matches before an early retirement. Each one raised an eyebrow the moment the mercenary once again began to laugh like a manic and wipe his grotesque hand across his forehead. The gossamer blood left an instant coagulated streak as the bones themselves bore a minor scratch into the mercenary's forehead as he wiped the sweat from his brow to better look up at the overhanging holodisplay and confirm what he had thought he'd seen.
1530-1600 Time Slot: The Hound vs. The Pixy
The display made for a curious visual effect, a holographic slaverhound snapping at a rotating ball of light and wings zig-zagging between the canine's jagged maw. Though the pixie seemed to draw nearer and nearer to the creature's foaming jaws, every snap would land comically close without ever actually catching it. Galm chuckled to himself, picturing the real world counterparts squaring off in a similar fashion to the amusement of hundreds of drunken pirates. In no time at all the score board fell away, swapping instead to a currently running match were one particularly swarthy looking matari had secured herself a cinder block on a chain and had begun to use it to beat a massive clone into submission. Occasionally a chunk of the brick would break over the man's spine and fly into the crowd, with the woman only halting her vicious assault once the cinder block had broken away completely from the rusted chain. The clear winner of her round, she licked streams of blood and brain matter from the corroded metal as a thunderous crowd began to cheer.
Galm gave a long sigh once the show had ended and the crew had scurried on stage to make the floor ready for the next match, knowing full well that he and Kador would be next to the slaughter. With one pensive huff he brought up his neocomm, glaring spitefully at the Gurista next to him who had yet to leave his side. As he typed the lad would occasional made witless commentary, regurgitating facts and statistics about the last round Fae had experience without him ever really paying any attention.
Quote:Kador, I'm heading to the bar now. We're on in a half hour.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
395
|
Posted - 2015.05.25 06:52:00 -
[33] - Quote
Groupies, Galm spat in his head, Always more groupies. Why can't this place be like Jita? Nobody ever bothers me in Jita.
He scanned the room left to right, eyes glancing clear over the small group of young women that had turned to great him as he searched for the Amarr. Halfway across his field of view he paused for a moment as he made awkward eye contact with one of the bartenders, a scrawny young man who had made the unfortunate mistake of looking up at the mercenary as he was polishing the bar.
"Well?" Pixy asked, pausing for a moment for a reply. The man-- more of a boy really-- simply stared slack jawed for a moment while every other eye in the room darted towards him.
"Where are the drinks?" Galm led, holding the attention of the crowd as best as he could. Being a massive prick came surprisingly easy to him, in part from the crash and in part because he was a literal bastard.
"I'm sorry sir, but you didn't order a--"
"Hey," Pixy thundered throwing one of his hands up as he wrapped his arm over the shoulder of a nameless bystander, "I've only got a half hour before I go up against that Udorian mutt, and I wanna share it with everyone in this room by spilling some drinks! All of them are on me, let's get these guys their fill, eh?"
The bar stand let out one collective shriek of approval as waves of occupants flooded to the counter, eager to down another vial of inebriating liquid while they could. This left a majority of the area empty, leaving Fae to walk the room at his leaser to search for Kador. He knew damn well that his display was massively heavy handed and that promising anyone on Snowfall unlimited free drinks was general a horrible idea, but once the station began to burn chances were Galm would never have to worry about his astronomically high tab ever again. At the very least, he bough the poor sods a moment of merriment before their ultimate demise.
He attempted to press forward, only to bump shoulders with a small woman. He turned to face here as she glanced wide-eyed and dumbfounded at the mercenary, her GO PIXIE hat sliding further and further back on her head before rolling off and hitting the floor.
"Ugh, you dropped your hat miss. Miss?"
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
404
|
Posted - 2015.06.10 05:03:00 -
[34] - Quote
Quote:"What do you want Galm?"
The halfbreed soon found a table to rest his weight, the small of his back sliding down the horizontal post unit he sat level with Kador. He barely paid any much attention to the Amarr soldier, his eyes glazed over as he scanned storm of patrons swarming the bar with a reptilian rancor.
"Look at all of them, Udorian," he huffed with contempt, "It's like they're not even people. They're just... I'm not quite sure. Ambient manifestations of this shithole, I suppose. They're like fedos, crawling all over each other to swallow down another chunk of Snowfall's festering corpse. They don't care about us. Ancestors choke, they don't even care about each other. When it all boils down these men, and I use that term lightly, are all here to tend to their most base needs. Sex, beer, and violence. Chaos."
He reached for a bottle on the table behind him, a small remnant left by a patron before surging forward into the crowd at the promise of higher qualify spirits. Galm shut his eyes and took a swig of the liquid, completely apathetic of whatever the contents of the glass might have been.
Matari rum by the taste of it.
"Anyway, I'm just here to make sure you didn't go off and get yourself into trouble after you heard of what I had done to that poor woman. I'm glad to see to see you're wise enough to veer from unnecessary danger. I respect that."
He took another sip, slowly this time to better observe the flavor.
What in gods' name is in this? Some sort of citrus? I wonder if it would go well with Starski.
"Actually... I won't bullshit you, friend. I was sort of hoping if I came here I'd be walking in on a chance to fight alongside you rather than against you. That in mind, I think we should really talk about the terms of our upcoming match."
It occurred to Galm in that moment that the young women from before had been staring curiously at the two during the length of their conversation. He'd hoped she'd be too smart to pay attention, but now all he could do was hope that she was too clever to do anything about it.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
419
|
Posted - 2015.06.17 08:40:00 -
[35] - Quote
Galm's normally cool demeanor ran flush for a moment, his face becoming a soft rose color as he shot a sideways glance at the young woman.
Oh gods, she looks just like Niina. Oh gods, that hat. Oh gods, that shirt. She's wearing my name. I didn't think anyone still wore my name. I hate it when people wear my name. Am I blushing, did she see me blush?
He fumbled wildly for the bottle, forcing down a long swig as he patted himself down for a set of sunglasses that just weren't there. He gave a single cough when the rum hit his chest, restoring his disposition in a change so fluid it'd lead one to question if he ever broke character at all.
"Biggest fan? Really? That's a tall claim. When did you flash me? Was it during the fight against Aardvark, because I think I had a crushed orbital that day. I mean, not that I would remember because I used to see a lot of... Eh... Nevermind. Thanks for taking care of my pal here, he's not the best at making friends. He literally cut me in half once. Not a real people person, this guy."
He shot a skittish look at Kador, his eyes darting back and fourth between the two as if to ask if they were in item. His trademark ****-eatting grin began to shine through as his eyes swapped to a deep violet.
"Anyway, I think you don't quite understand what I'm saying Kad--... Kal."
He eyed the young woman, curious if he should proceed in her presence. Yes, the whole point of entering the Gladiator pits was to act as a distraction but it finally occurred to him that a girl like Mila might actually look up to him. The idea of staging a match, even with the intentions of setting their endgame into motion just seemed... Wrong.
"There can only be one victor out there tonight Kal, and we need to make sure the right guy is still standing on that stage before the real show begins."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Killer of Snowfall Station--
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
429
|
Posted - 2015.06.29 02:50:00 -
[36] - Quote
Galm breathed out slowly, unable to adequately articulate the supreme irony of the moment. Through it all, he should have suspected that Snowfall would have made its mark on the Udorian. Or ratherGǪ NoGǪ No it hadnGÇÖt. Perhaps not to the effect one would think. Snowfall didnGÇÖt drive men mad, Fae knew that much. Rather, it had a habit of letting madness flourish. For the first time, Galm had a suspicion that the Templar was never as infallible as his gilded ego would lead him to believe. Shoashu never built Galm into a monster, it just embraced him and encouraged all the violence he had brought with him. It sifted the weak from the strong in a twisting concrete jungle where only the strongest were fit to flourish. It occurred to Galm in that moment that if Kador didnGÇÖt have some part of him deep down that was no different than Pixy, this station would have spat him out the day he arrived.
Fae took one last drink from the glass bottle before tossing it onto the ground with reckless abandon, leaving the bar without saying another word as glass shards crumpled underneath his boots. Once he was clear of blasting music, he opened his NeoComm.
Morgan Wulver had a hard time just wrapping his head around it. With an area of effect of fifteen kilometers it was more than enough to destroy the hanger several times over, and nobody seemed to bat an eye. Just owning one of these in empire space was enough to merit investigation, much less ferry it onboard a station from a frigate ill equipped to even deploy such a massive weapon. The concept of seeing one in person was surreal, and the act of actually owning one even more so. Not to say it was beyond his price range, but the way he had secured such a large explosive was enough to justify a novel in itself. Unfortunately, this is not a story about him. His NeoComm pinged, alerting him to an urgent message from his old compatriot.
GǣYeah?Gǥ he spoke through a raspy, shrill voice before clearing his through and continuing, GǣI mean, eh, hey Galm. I got theGǪ The thing we were talking about?Gǥ
GÇ£The thing?GÇ¥ his old friend barked through the line, his voice slightly agitated.
GÇ£Yeah, the, the b-word. The big one. You wouldnGÇÖt believe what I had to do to get this. Or rather, who I had to dGÇöGÇ£
GÇ£Oh, yeah, yeah, no,GÇ¥ Pixy coughed, GÇ£Look, about our arrangement, I donGÇÖt think Kador will let me take a fall. He wants to actually try dammit.GÇ¥
GÇ£So? IsnGÇÖt that what you want him to do?GÇ¥
GÇ£Yeah, look, the thing is IGÇÖve changed my mind too. I owe it to him to fight him with honor, and that man needs some sense beaten into him anyway. Just, just take all your money off of Kador and invest it into something wise. ****, I dunno, get a degree in something.GÇ¥
GÇ£But how are you supposed to pay me back for the scGÇöGÇ£
GÇ£Morgan, brother, IGÇÖll make it up to yGÇöGÇ£
Morgan audibly groaned before picking up an engineering drone with his robotic arm and tossing it to the other end of the hanger.
GÇ£You always say that,GÇ¥ Wulver bellowed, searching for another thing to throw, GÇ£We canGÇÖt keep pretending that IGÇÖm going to keep saving your ass because weGÇÖre family.GÇ¥
GÇ£If this is about the grenade to the faceGÇöGÇ£
GÇ£ItGÇÖs not about the grenade in my face!GÇ¥
Morgan reached up, carefully messaging the designer scars that had been carefully etched across the entire right half of his head. Maybe it was about the grenade to his face all those years back in MorduGÇÖs Legion. Or maybe it was for letting Fae talk him into defecting with the Dragonaurs and leaving Pure Blind. Or maybe it was for not going with him into the empirian program. Or maybe for never even sending a letter while Wulver was going through Officer Training School. Or maybe it was for somehow GÇÿloosing trackGÇÖ of their entire team during the clone uprising and escaping with a bunch of Gurista cut-throats, or the fact he was an immature ****, orGÇö
GÇ£Is this because I never went down on you?GÇ¥
GÇ£No, but as long as we're on that topic; if you donGÇÖt reciprocate with Niina, sheGÇÖs going to leave you like I did!GÇ¥
GÇ£ThatGÇÖsGǪ ThatGÇÖs not at all how I remember it buddy.GÇ¥
You could sense his **** eating grin over the airwaves.
GÇ£Galm, if you win this fight Zipang is going to want to see you personally. If this is about to start tonight, you gotta know that you donGÇÖt have a lot of options left. Half your team has already walked away from the assignment, IGÇÖve been spending all day getting them and their clones flight manifests to get them out of Tenal.GÇ¥
GÇ£ThatGÇÖs fine,GÇ¥ Fae strained, his livid rage only slightly overcome by the pressing need to move forward, GÇ£Just have the TemplarGÇÖs vehicle armed for deployment and our clones loaded into the CRU. Once that's done, you can leave. I don't want you getting caught up in this.GÇ¥
He hung up abruptly, just before Wulver had a chance to retort a comment about the soldier GÇÿwatching his ass out thereGÇÖ or some other clich+¬ that people seemed to share at these moments.
GÇ£Is this because I never went down on you?GÇ¥ he yammered to himself, waiting for the maintenance drone to slowly make its way back in front of him before he picked it up once again and tossed it with a loud metal clank.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Killer of Snowfall Station--
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