95 replies to this topic

[Redcoat]

OOC: After MUCH ADO. I'm so sorry...

---

The Wyrmslayer was flying through space on autopilot. Nobody was about to disturb it, and there weren't any asteroids in the way. Consequently, Alexander disengaged from the controls, directing the computer to sound an alarm if it needed someone's attention. He and everyone else in the cockpit found their way down to the lounge, where the entire crew--save the imprisoned Knox--had gathered for some much-deserved food and drink.

A television was blaring (some shitty reality television show). Someone, probably Brown, had put a couple pre-made pizzas in an oven, and there was beer. That took care of supper. For now, everyone was talking and lounging about on the sofas and chairs present. As soon as Alex appeared, he took his own seat after grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"Everyone!" he said. "Congratulations on an excellent escape. Beer and pizza is your reward!"

After a few instances of "hear, hear!", he continued.

"Since you sorry lot seem to have agreed to become my crew, I think it's only fair that we agree on our first mission," he said. "Something lucrative. I suggest we dock at a space station orbiting Kurgisk. I'm sure there's a bounty or two there. Who's with me?"

[Kamikaze_X]

Jericho had sat in a seat within the cockpit alongside Michael and Alex. Strapping himself in, he had barely enough time to do so before he felt the rocket lift off. Slowly but surely, the feeling blastoff set in. He couldn't help but smirk as he felt his insides move toward his throat. Soon however, he felt his head nodding toward the floor and an intense feeling of vertigo overtaking him. His smirk changed to a grimace as he waited for the end to come. Their takeoff wasn't as pleasant as he anticipated, nothing like the commercial ship that brought him to that dustbowl of a planet that they were leaving. He hadn't been in a smaller rocket for quite a long time.

As the directional thrusters chimed in, and the force of their takeoff started to become less pronounced, his stomach finally started to settle back. Jericho willed himself to bring his mind back into his own pirating days - the days of rough take-offs he remembered from long ago. Soon enough, he would be used to the entire experience anyway. Glancing over to Alex, he gestured with a thumb to the door exiting the cockpit.

"Knox is locked up tighter than a bank vault." Jericho said.

Acknowledging that his business was done, it was time for a celebration. They escaped the clenches of the law, making a spectacular exit, if Jericho said so himself. They moved to the lounge a floor below the cockpit. Being served pizzas and the much-needed beer, Jericho found his spirits soaring. From his duster, he withdrew a rather large flask of aluminum. Opening the cap, he took a whiff and smirked.

"If anyone wants something a bit stronger than beer...." Jericho announced with his trademark wolfish grin. "How about some whiskey?"

Setting the flask on the table before the couches, he poured himself a shot of whiskey in a glass and toasted alongside Alex to their successful, albeit dangerous, departure. Eating happily, he found the pizza went down much better with his volatile mix of whiskey and beer than water could ever do.

"I suggest we dock at a space station orbiting Kurgisk. I'm sure there's a bounty or two there. Who's with me?" Alexander asked as everyone gorged themselves with food and drink.

"You know I'm with you. I'll never turn down a bounty... even if I have one of my own there in Kurgisk." Jericho laughed, raising his glass. "Not that I mind having a bounty, call it a bit of competition."

[Lyon]

Reed stumbled up onto the mess deck several moments later, his hair dripping wet. He pushed his goggles back up onto his forehead, shaking himself like a dog. "Still a bit damp down there, but it was probably my fault for tripping into it." He grabbed a slice of pizza and started on the crust. "Appleton Drive's in place, as you may have noticed, but we'll want to stop to secure it properly as soon as we can." He picked up a beer and downed a quarter of it in one go.

"You didn't give me nearly enough time," the engineer said with a somewhat accusing note in his voice. "What I do is art, not brute work, and art takes time." He took another swig of beer, and added reflectively, "Which you didn't give me nearly enough of." Reed frowned at the beer bottle. "I said that before, didn't I? Ah well. Cheers for another bloody escape." He raised his bottle a third time and drained it.

[Vithar Megilaglar]

Michael leaned against a wall, his helmet rested nearby. He grabbed a slice of pizza, but had forgone the beer. Never had been much of a drinker himself.

He glanced up when Alex spoke. Did the man speak to hear himself speak?

:Not this time, it seems.: Michael smirked. "You can manage to dock this? Without killing anybody in the process? This I will have to see."

[Just Joe]

Cracked paint scarred the ceiling that was illuminated above the convicts' head by a single light bulb. There was a feeling of anticipation and fear in everyone, with the captives at a loss of words, with almost an inability to speak, or even aknowledge eachother. They were seperated into cramped rooms of two, with all the rooms 'joined' to one another by four, maybe five inch-thick panes of hardened glass.The silence was broken by a shrill sound, and red lights blaring from from a small sphere above a hard metal door. The sound was followed by doors sliding open, and moderately-armed slavers filing into the room; one with a rifle, the other two with sparkblades. Two convicts stood up to meet the icey stare of the guards.

These fugitives were Douglas Burnell and his room mate, Philip Howard (Who had the intellectual capacity of a brick wall, and the prescence of a wood-louse), who let out a wince as a guard sized him up visibly.

"Take 'em in", barked the rifle-guard. Burnell had met him earlier on this voyage to the space station, and worked with him before the crew found out he had a bounty and put him in the brig with the rest of their 'catch'. These slavers - that rifle-guard especially- were assholes but they had a ship, which Douglas needed to take advantage of. He bartered passage off the planer Volern, to avoid capture from the Mallak family.

But yeah, that guard was a cunt.

"Move along, Burnell." sighed one of the sparkblade-wielding guards, as he slapped some cuffs onto his wrists. Douglas walked along a line in one direction, as Howard was herded towards another.

The sighing sparkblade-man, whose ID-tag read "Thomas Brent", led out of the airlock and into the processing room, where he would be checked for contraband. The cuffs were uncomforotably tight, but the length of the chain between them surprisingly had some slack. The room was small, but comparatively large to his holding cell. The guard stood directly in front of him, He was young, and slightly shorter than Douglas, and of a weaker build. Thomas was no doubt aware of Burnell's past, and was wishing he was anywhere else, doing anything else, even paperwork. He of course had to ask a few questions to test Douglas' compliance.

"Whats your name?"

"Go fuck yourself."

Thomas slammed the hilt of his sparkblade into the convicts stomach, making him bend over and stumble backwards slightly. Douglas raised his head with a plain expression on his face: He wasn't amused.

"I asked you what your name is, you worthless shit! Do you even know what I could do to you? Do you?!"

Douglas glared at him for a solid ten seconds, before licking his inner lip and saying.

"You gonna bark all day, little doggie... Or are you gonna bite?"

Brent went red in the face, pissed off supremely at Douglas' condecending tone. He attempted to demonstrate this as he turned on his spark blade and attempted to slash at Burnell. The convict raised his hand slightly, meeting the blade with his cuff, which caused the cuff to melt about three quarters of the way in, leaving his restraint on the right hand slightly weaker. The panicking guard instinctively turned off his sparkblade, only to find that it was stuck in the cuff. Burnell pulled his head back and sent it forward at such a momentum that it broke the guards nose, and causing him to recoil at such a rate that he not only pulled out the blade, but also slammed the back of his head against a wall, causing him to drop the blade.

His head lolled around until he was again aware of the situation, and made an attempt to grab the blade, but before he could, Douglas slammed his boot on it and slid it along the floor behind him. He bent low and grabbed the guard with his hands, still in cuffs, and picked him up. He threw him onto a table and proceded to make a fist with his restrained hands and bring it down on Thomas' head again and again, until finally grabbing his lapel again and sliding him off the table. Douglas stood over the injured man, letting one word slip his mouth before he brought the full weight of his boot down on the mans neck.

"Cunt."

He looked over to the sparkblade, and picked it up with one of his hands. He angled it at a slightly dangerous angle and engaged the power, slicing through the chain between the cuffs in a matter of seconds. He heard gun shots down the hallway... Luck was in his favour, he mused, as he grabbed anything of use from the slaver guard (Including a lighter, a few cigars and a keycard), as well as the spark blade,  and left the room.

[Redcoat]

OOC: Shef, your post should include the telly drama we spoke of. Also, Lyon, you've not been ignored.

---

"I promise you that there shall be no casualties as a result of our embarkment," Alexander said, after finishing his second bottle of beer. "Well then, I suppose that settles it. Kurgisk it is."

A few drinks and slices of pizza later, the spaceship was docking with Station A-114, better known as "Therog" after an influential crime family. Alexander had chosen it because it was the closest, remarking that he dealt with enough rocket science in his everyday life and didn't need to complicate matters further.

Therog was a poor excuse for a space station, and the outdated, run-down architecture of the place made no secret of that. They were docked in a catcher's-mitt style cage that was considered ancient by the standards of the Inner Empire, and disembarked through a crude docking bridge into a spaceport that was an eyesore among eyesores.

Already the crowd looked rough. The looks in their eyes betrayed an active malice that was worse than the eroded optimism and emergent despair of Kelstheim's unfortunate denizens. There was strength in numbers, however, and nobody bothered them. Alexander thought this probably also had something to do with his visible weapon, Brown's size, Michael's armour and Jericho's eyeballs.

"Money, money, money..." Alex mumbled as they proceeded through town. He did some inventory of what they could do.

His crew wasn't made up of psychopaths, but it was made up of thrillseekers. That took mining operations out of the question, primarily because there was no hazard pay. They could have looked for a specific bounty, but that involved detective work; as he scanned the listings on his mobile computer, none of them looked like an easy buck. It was then that fate showed him the way.

"Oy, Gagrin, you ain't heard the news?" someone said. "Lord Prince said 'e was gonna clean this station out! Heard it from one o' me merchant friends!"

"Surely you jest," the other said in response, with some genuine alarm. "For Armok's sake, these outer stations... How long until he arrives? I can divert shipments immediately, but I have an awful lot of inventory to clear out. Be damned if I'm financing that pretentious snotball."

Alexander sensed opportunity. He approached the pair of merchants, leaving his crew behind for a moment.

"I couldn't help but overhear you two gentlemen speaking about a... Lord Prince. Could you tell me more?"

"Blasted scoundrel!" one of them shouted. "He's a pirate. Harrasses Outer Stations quite a bit. Quite the successful rogue as of late, too."

"I see," Alex said. "That'll be all, then."

"Good day to you, and watch your bloody step around here!"

After that exchange, he returned to his crew.

"Who wants to fuck up some pirates? I'm sure the local government wouldn't mind paying us quite handsomely."

[Vithar Megilaglar]

Michael grinned behind his helmet. "A little scuffle with some second rate pirates, eh?" Michael chortled quietly. "Been a bit since I've fought anything but petty thieves and wildlife."

Michael did a mental check of his suit, a display showing up on his visor. Everything was green; he would be prepared for anything.

"Just tell me when we get to the fun part."

[Jericho]

Brown opened another beer, it had been at least his sixth since takeoff. He wasn't the slightest bit tipsy. It had been too long since he's had a good pirate hunt. he was all for it.
"Cap'n....Count me in on this escapade! We could ALWAYS use a little more adventure." He let out another one of his loud bellowing laughs and (roughly) patted Alex on the shoulder.

Edited by Jericho, 23 February 2012 - 03:27 PM.

[8-bit]

Celio tailed the group without shoes, getting stares from some who watched the party pass. He carried his sopping wet boots in one hand, his pants still soaked from preparing the engine and tank for takeoff. The metal of the docking bay soon turned into rust-stained concrete and then musty brown gravel, forcing him to squelch along in his ruined boots. At the sound of some action at last, though he perked up.

"Sounds good t' me," he replied to Alex, stowing his hands in his uncomfortably wet trousers. Even the inside of the pockets were moist. "As long as we use part of th' money we get to fix your engine. It's like Sea World or somethin' down there." The Appleton Drive part had been handy and essential to getting the thing to lift off, but it could only carry them so far. If anything got too rough with the thugs, Celio would simply duck out of sight until the coast was clear. It hardly required any effort if he played his cards right, and he'd receive employee "benefits" no matter what he did.

[Just Joe]

The local government caught wind of the slaver vessel docking here, and sent a sizable group of well armed men to kick them the hell out. It wasn't entirely ideal, but at this point any escape plane would have to do.

Douglas managed to find his way to the armory, where he found his confiscated goods. The armor was gone, but the vest and coat was still there. His pistol was laying on a desk next to his knife. Grabbing all of his effects, he left the room and started down the hallway, dodging and avoiding confrontation from the raiding 'police'.

'Police'. They didn't look like police, they looked like a private army.

Slipping out wasn't too difficult, and neither was slipping into the crowd that was migrating from one place to the other in a massive square area. The crime was thriving here, but not in any organised way. He remembered when he was one of the heads of the Burnell-Boyden Crime Syndicate, back when crime was organised and executed to the exact degree. Now it was just petty thugs robbing old women of their handbags. This thought led Douglas to wonder whether he would ever be part of a organisation like the Syndicate ever again, never mind be in charge of one. He expelled these thoughts from his head and decided that he had to start again from somewhere.

Up ahead was the Magistrate's office, which was no doubt handing out bounties.

Douglas entered warily as he himself had a bounty on him. He had to avoid blatant contact and get out as fast as possible. Looking around him breifly, he turned to begin to browse the holo-graphs on the wall - basically digital portraits of the criminals. He looked over his shoulder to see the door behind him open. In walked a man flanked by a group of armed men, each with different attire and armory. They were a crew, most likely. He almost smiled in admiration for a group of like-minded individuals to get together like he once did in his youth.

... But then he realised his face, revolving slowly in a digital mugshot, was on the wall. Quickly snatching the Holograph and putting it behind his back, he looked behind at the group and stepping aside slightly, seemingly to let them have a look, but really to draw attention away from the bounty he was holding behind his back.

Edited by Just Joe, 24 February 2012 - 05:35 PM.

[Kamikaze_X]

Jericho could only barely hide his bloodlust. The mention of another pirate crew seemed to flick a switch in his mind. The best bounty a pirate could collect on, was on the head of another pirate. Not to mention, surely this would mean a good fight for once. Jericho was tired of all the small-fry he had to contend with as of late. His wolfish grin stretched across his face as he listened to every word that Alex said.

"This man will make my life a hell of a lot more interesting." Jericho thought. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with anticipation.

"This Prince guy, do you think he has a good crew?" Jericho asked, still grinning with his malicious joy.

His hand was already at the hilt of his sparkblade cutlass. He had been itching to draw his blade lately. A brawl was one of the true things he wished for... aside from bountiful coin at least. The only notion that brought him out of his daze of happiness was the distinct idea that this Prince's crew were all weak... a very real possibility. Sighing audibly as he thought about this, he just reasoned that it would end up being their job to exterminate them. The weak had no place in this world, especially in Jericho's mind.

As they continued on down the road, he muttered something to himself beneath his breath, sounding something like. "...wonder how strong they are.."

[Redcoat]

OOC: Madden, feel free to overhear Alexander later on in the post.

---

"He raids stations like it's nobody's business," Alex said, nonchalantly, in reply to Jericho. "But I'm sure they're no match for us. Besides, if we fail, we can just high-tail it out of here. Nobody's going to stop us, even if our engine can't hold water. The Wyrmslayer is the fastest ship around."

They walked up to the front steps of the Magistrate's office. It was an entirely unremarkable building, except for its marked pretentiousness. It had probably once looked quite elegant; it was built in the old Terran Imperial style, meaning it appeared to be masonry, with elegant columns and red bricks and vines creeping up the walls. It had been designed to look impressive, inspire loyalty in the proles, and remind passerby about the great civilization in which they lived. Despite trying to look luxurious and upper-class, it now performed none of these functions. Its walls were stained or damaged in places; the building was host to vulgar graffiti; the vines were brown and dead. The occasional window was broken, and boarded up or taped over. As they entered the derelict capitol building, some hobo groaned obscenities at them from a dumpster.

The inside of the building was just as poorly kept; a few rooms were boarded up, the carpets were in need of replacement, the walls and ceiling were stained with nicotine and there appeared to be minor fire damage. The most attractive thing in the front room was the secretary, who directed them to the Magistrate's office without much trouble. Despite the facade of calm that she tried to put up, the signs of panic were obvious, particularly when Alexander commented on the box of blaster cartridges she was sitting on.

Magistrate Servus was even worse at hiding this than his assistant; when Alex and his heavily armed band of merry men arrived at his door, they caught him in the middle of a Link conversation.

"If you don't send a ship, my station's going to get blown out of the ether! And then where will you have to peddle your shit? ... Suit yourself, asshole! Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off. I'll hire different muscleheads this time."

Just before he was capable of dialing another number, Alex stepped into the room. He didn't much like the "muscleheads" comment, but he didn't much care. His money was good.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I gather you're in need of protection," Alexander said, in his best negotiating voice. "A certain Baron en route to raise havoc, if I'm not mistaken."

"Cut the fucking high-brow shit," the Magistrate replied, obviously stressed. "Yeah, I need hired guns. You guys have a ship?"

"Yes," Alexander said, somewhat offended. "That we do."

"Good. Then you stand a chance. Or you're all fucking lunatics. I don't give a shit. The job is to blow up anyone who fucks with my station tomorrow. Kill 'em, maim 'em, I don't care. As long as they don't fuck with me after you're through with 'em. Your price?"

"500,000 pounds shining," Alex said, now thoroughly convinced that this man was the worst Magistrate alive. "Plus fuel, supplies, and salvage."

"What the fuck?!" the Magistrate said. "Do you think I was born yesterday?"

"No, but I do think you're in no position to drive a hard bargain, given that you've no effective defences to speak of on this pitiful hunk of steel you call home," Alexander explained, the venom in his voice creeping to the surface occasionally. "And I think that your losses if this station is thoroughly ransacked would be rather more severe than 500,000 pounds. You might be ruined."

Because the Magistrate appeared to be hesitating, he continued.

"Not to mention what might happen to you if we decide to cut a deal with this Baron fellow instead. My my, you'd be screwed."

"Fuck you. It's a deal," he said, evidently not very happy. "But you had better deliver."

"My specialty," Alexander said. "Half now, half later, ship resupplied immediately?"

"Done," the Magistrate said despite being pissed, and 250,000 pounds shining were handed over to the adventurer in red.

"Thank you," Alexander said before exiting.

They were outside of the ruined office building before they spoke again.  The are out front was mostly empty, save the hobo from earlier, who was still groaning, and a few others who mostly just blended in with the scenery.

"I can't believe I wrenched 500,000 pounds out of him!" Alex said. "And we get to fuck up some pirates. Am I the best captain, or am I the best captain!?"

[Vithar Megilaglar]

Michael scoffed. "It didn't exactly look like much negotiation. More like a bit of old-fashioned extortion." Michael glanced around the station. "Also, I dare to add aloud, this station is built to be raided. No defense cannons. No armor beyond the outer hull. And the only shielding energy my suit detects is atmo-shielding."

Michael shook his head and sighed. "Guess this isn't one of the grand Defense Platforms around Vantage. But even the most civilian of stations have basic cannons, armor, and shielding. This place looks even worse for wear than the Wyrmslayer. And that isn't saying much." Michael shrugged. "Call this a soldier speaking, but we should engage the pirates in space. Away from the station. Just a thought."

[Just Joe]

The leader of the team walked right by him, taking little or no notice. They must have business with the Magistrate directly. Douglas shrugged, and turned back to the holos on the wall, slipping the bounty on his head carefully into his pocket. As he browsed, he overheard a very, very sweet deal being made. A voice yelled in his head 'Five hundred fucking G's!'

As they left, at the direction of the smug captain, who was clearly taking the magistrate for a ride, Burnell looked over his shoulder. Would he take his chance? These were high rollers, if  he wanted to start a crime organisation, he'd have to start somewhere. He started to tail them down the street. It wasn't too dificult: They weren't wary of danger, they were facing the other way and there was a large crowd of people that they were walking through.

He wanted to single out the captain and haggle with him, to get a share of the profits for his expertise. He pushed through the crowd, and heard one of his companions mention 'Pirates in space, away from the station'. It sounded  like a journey, but of course Douglas couldn't get the whole picture until he met and spoke to the captain. They turned a corner at a moment, and the captains companions, save the armored guy in the helmet, fell behind slightly. This was his chance.

He concealed his blaster in an inner holster in his jacket and began to walk faster, overtaking the rest of the crew and walking alongside the captain in red. He nudged him slightly.

The man turned round and looked at Douglas. The captain was slightly shorter than himself but looked quite build.

"No, I don't want any drugs." sighed the captain, making it apparent he was tired of the station.

"Ah, no, no. I wanted to offer you something" replied Burnell, in mock humor and in an apologetic tone.

"Aye? And what might that be?"

"I overheard your going after pirates, and that there is a hefty reward" Douglas took a look back, and spotted the rest of the captains crew noticing him, speeding up to see what the commotion is. "Anyway, I have extensive, extensive experience in killing things. I can provide proof of this, if you would like?"

The Red man looked to his armored companion, as if discussing telepathically whether to trust me or not. A few gestures with their heads later, and the captain turned back.

"Okay, lets see, then."

Lifting from his inner pocket came the holo that held the bounty on his head. Upon seeing Douglas reaching for his pocket the team sped up towards where they were. Burnell activated the holo, and a blue-grey hologram of his head came up. Underneath it there was a large caption blazing '80,000', next to it was 'When collected, bounty should be returned to Mullak family compound'. On the other side of the bounty number was a list scrolling down, listing crimes such as 'Smuggling', 'Arms Trade', 'Armed Robbery', 'Kidnap', 'Racketeering'... The list went on. Douglas held it infront the captain and waited for a reply

[Kamikaze_X]

Leaving the Magistrates office, it took all of Jericho's will to not turn back and smash the pompous bastard's face in. Looking back to Alex as he walked alongside, he wondered if he should ask whether it was alright to kill the man after they finished the job and received the rest of their reward. Jericho guessed the answer would be a polite "no", but he kept his hopes up.

Walking out from the Capitol building and into the rest of the station, Jericho noted just how run-down and dilapidated it truly was. Buildings (for what they were worth), were practically falling in upon their foundations. The narrow streets were more or less crowded with people and trash alike. After a while, Jericho stated to find trouble differentiating from the two - at this, he couldn't hide his grin.

"That hobo back there at least had the balls to moan curses at us. The rest of these pieces of trash just shy away from us. I doubt there's a decent fighter around these parts..." Jericho commented aloud, not too concerned about those he passed by. He even returned a frown toward one of the civilians he walked by.

As if on cue, just as Alex seemed to be pacing ahead of them, a man rushed past them all. Jericho wondered if he was merely in a rush. However, unlike the rest of the fodder that roamed the streets of the station, this one seemed to be a bit more imposing. He was heading toward Alex, and just as Jericho knew that he wanted something, he found his hand gripping one of his pistol grips protruding from his belt. Before he drew it and pulled the trigger, Alex and the man started speaking.

Glancing toward his comrades, he increased his own pace to catch up with Alex and the stranger with quite the bounty on his head.

"A little extra money wouldn't hurt.... but I'll leave that up for Alex to decide I guess." Jericho thought.

[Redcoat]

When Douglas presented them with his record, a few things went through Alexander's mind. First, he was glad he hadn't reached for a gun; crazy fuckers were all over this place. Secondly, he was impressed by the man's criminal experience. Thirdly, he was impressed by Douglas' daftness. He had just presented his bounty to a crew of what could only be assumed to be bloodthirsty pirates. Suddenly, he was absolutely certain that this man didn't pose a credible threat except as a thug.

He did some quick calculations. If they had him, they would have an advantage in the coming battle. Some insurance to win 500,000 guaranteed pounds plus salvage and a free ride was definitely worth more than 80,000 pounds flat. It made sense to keep Douglas, as a result; but his continued usefulness would be contingent on his performance. If he pissed them off, they could turn him in on the next station. If he did well enough, they'd keep him. All eyes were on Alexander, and this put another factor under consideration; what would his crew think? And what if his bounty number ever got out...?

"Impressive," Alexander said. "Fine, you can tag along. I'll pay you your fair share of what the crew earns."

[Just Joe]

Douglas smiled slightly at the corner of his mouth.

"I hope you don't mind my forwardness" he said, almost muttering.

He looked back at the crew, sized them up. They looked good, and itching for a fight. They reminded him of a lot of young men that worked in the Syndicate - aspiring and enthusiastic. He turned to the captain.

"So whats the story...?" Douglas waited for him to give him his name. After he did, he filled Burnell on the details, about who they were after and what they're style was. Upon hearing it was the Lord Prince, he lolled his head down slightly and sighed. Seems like any pipsqueek could start a crime family these days. From the description, the 'Prince' didn't seem very proffesional: He raids stations but nothing else, he's arrogant, he is full of himself enough to even give him such a poncey title as 'Lord Prince'.

It wouldn't be hard to snap his neck, but all the hired muscle would be a different story

[Vithar Megilaglar]

Michael frowned inwardly. He spoke, seemingly friendly. "Interesting choice, Alex. Can't say whether I agree with you." Michael studied the newcomer. Then spoke, yet again in a friendly tone. "As the captain stated, you'd best perform. And well."

Michael turned forward, ready to move on. A thought struck him. "Alex, we would do well to be on our toes. While I doubt the combat skill of our foe...well, better tech can offset lower skills. This might also be a good time to improve on the Wyrmslayer."

[Kamikaze_X]

Jericho crossed his arms. He looked to Douglass, as the man was called. He looked able enough, and though he would never admit it, his bounty was a bit impressive. Even so, Jericho resolved to not trust the guy until he truly could. He'd keep an eye on Douglass as long as he could spare it, and any false move would likely be enough to spur him to action.

"Hmph, we'll see how good he is. A bounty doesn't mean shit unless you can truly back it up." Jericho commented skeptically. "Anyway, we should move from here Alex, I don't think staying in one place is the best idea... even if everyone here is trash."

[Lyon]

While the others were away, Reed took the opportunity to do more tinkering with his personal combat exosuit. He had dismantled and reassembled the entire thing at least twice, and he thought he was making good progress. The exo was considerably less bulky than when he had started, and was starting to look more like a suit of plate armor rather than a robotic exoskeleton.

He whistled as he removed the bolts from the chestplate, exposing the inner workings of the suit. The inside of the chestplate was a mass of wires connected to two large actuators, one for each side of the body. From each actuator, more wires snaked around to the power source located within the backplate. Assuming I can find smaller actuators without sacrificing power, I can probably cut the weight of the suit by at least twenty percent. Of course, that could be difficult...

He walked back over to his workbench. The exo they had taken from their prisoner was lying there, half dismantled. It was a more modern model than Reed was used to, and he thought that the power sources were likely to be more sophisticated than his current ones. He was correct in this, at least: whereas his exo's actuators were bulky boxes, roughly one and a quarter feet square, these were more elongated, designed to reach from shoulder to hip without adding additional weight in front.

Reed pushed his goggles down over his eyes and pulled out his modified 'blaster, using it to slice through the wires that held the captured exo's right-side actuator in place. After removing his own, he placed them side-by-side on the workbench. Time to find out what makes these things tick. Maybe I can figure out how to make one of these even smaller...