Futuristic Burning Sails [OPEN]

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"At least on Shadespear, for now. We do still have some pirate groups friendly to us, as well as a bounty hunter or two, but I wouldn't risk going there without some form of disguise. Minor changes can work just as well as total makeovers, so do what you need to."

Typhon, thinking about how in the world he'll disguise himself, carefully feels his thin face with his fleshy hand. Oh dear, this might be a problem since no new outfit's gonna be able to cover up his ghastly features; features of which have been plastered on every screen and feed along with everyone else's. Perhaps more drastic measures will suffice?

He looks over to Easel nearby and waves at her to get her attention.

"Easel, by any chance are you knowledgeable on cosmetic procedures?"

 

[SniperComZero]

Olivia snorted, bringing a hand up to her face as Nathalie tried punching right back at her. "Rich, coming from a girl whose do looks like some kid's bad halloween costume based on her government's spooks."

Her eyes darted across the room a sec, before she relaxed, and reclined. "...Anyway. All I probably need's some hair dye, coloured contacts and, eh, maybe a scarf. Humans're a dime a dozen out here, even. And since I'm just really a common hit, and not some matter of national security, or whatever the fuck, I could probably get away with less. Dyes'n fabric're bound to be common as shit, but, ah... anyone got any ideas about the eyes?"

 

[Frankafurter]

"Disguises would probably be a good idea, yeah," Katja adds, folding her arms across her chest while looking over to Olivia, "Probably could hit up the marketplace near here to find the stuff you need. I know my face isn't plastered on one of those posters but I'm gonna cover up regardless to just avoid giving them an easy mugshot. Plus the uh..." She moves a hand to gesture in the general coverage of her tattoos, "markings are pretty distinct so covering up would just be a good idea anyways." Katja then turns her attention to Typhon, "Maybe you can help me find one of the traditional Muslim outfits for a woman, figured that might be a reliable way to cover myself up while still looking like some random citizen from your former homeworld or something."

 

[Breadman]

"Sunglasses and contacts help with eyes. Add some make-up if you want to be sure." Amy looked to Olivia "Slap some on your eyes and say it's warpaint. If you're hanging out with pirates or merc crews, nobody will care enough to question it."

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"Maybe you can help me find one of the traditional Muslim outfits for a woman, figured that might be a reliable way to cover myself up while still looking like some random citizen from your former homeworld or something."

This bizarre suggestion catches Typhon completely off-guard and had he not exercised some self-control, it would’ve sent him leaning back in his seat laughing in complete bewilderment that someone is seriously considering this.

“And now my help is wanted.” he snidely mumbles to himself before shaking his head and looking back at Katja. “Why, I would love to turn you into a good Muslim woman, but bear in mind that procuring a proper burka may be difficult, especially with how unpopular religion in general is in these parts. I might just have to repurpose some linens for you.” he shrugs.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja can't help but grin a little bit, "Yeah... I guess it was a bit much to ask that. I'll think of something then before we leave, have a look around the market here for maybe something more modern styled and get a pair of sunglasses and a scarf. I may need to get an advance on pay though if I do, because I didn't get unfrozen with useable currency on hand."

 

[Infab]

"Easel, by any chance are you knowledgeable on cosmetic procedures?"

Easel nodded. "I am a qualified plastic surgeon, and have experience in cosmetic alterations such as hairstyles and dyes, eye dyes and contact lenses, eyeglasses, and so on." she explained. "If any of you should need assistance, I am more than qualified to help."

As the others talked of clothes and shades, Valk spoke up. "Check the market stalls up in Diamond Cove. Plenty there to use. If you need credits, I can spot you some." she stated, glancing to Katja. "Already got you set up. Check the tablet Easel gave you."

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja nods, "Right, I'll go find something nice, another thing though, what about personal weapons? I only have my knife but a compact gun for self-defense might be nice to have in case things get a little hairy." She figures everyone else but her has some sort of sidearm or PDW to defend themselves, but she doubts she'll get very far with just a knife in this sort of situation.

 

[Infab]

"Right, I'll go find something nice, another thing though, what about personal weapons? I only have my knife but a compact gun for self-defense might be nice to have in case things get a little hairy."

"With the way things are at the moment, things are likely to get a little fucked up regardless of where we go." stated Valk. She then motioned to Drav, whom was sitting nearby. "Drav can set you up with something concealable. Pistols, shotguns, SMGs, something to use in case trouble comes knocking." added Valk, "Be advised, though. It's basic stuff. Don't expect to be given anything fancy. If you want fancy, check the market on Shadespear when we get there."

Drav glanced back to the others in the room, and gave them a thumbs-up. "Find Drav at gun range." she said simply, before standing and walking out of the room. Valkyrie then looked to Zadra, whom was observing the hologram still floating over the table. "Zadra, need you to come with us when we get to Shadespear. Check out the market and see if you can find anything useful there for the ships and mechs." stated Valkyrie, which caught Zadra's attention. "Aye, ma'am." was her response, before she departed the room herself.

Valkyrie then looked to the rest of the group. "We leave in three hours. That should give you enough time to fix yourselves up with disguises and gear. Once you're ready, head over to the Mordred's landing pad in the clearing to the northwest. Dismissed." she said, before waving the group off.

​

Time passed, as activity in Diamond Cove continued as it had been for the several hours previously. One by one, those that needed weapons headed over to Drav, whom issued out the needed armaments for their self-defense. Most of the weapons were typical kinetic weapons, of various makes and models. Human, Upyri, YsCom, Corporate, a wide variety were issued. Each with their own functions, mechanisms, and ammunition sizes. But all shared a common trait: they were easily concealable on one's form. Either through being simply tucked into the belt under a shirt or jacket, or slipped into a holster somewhere on the body. The most common were holsters under the arms, easily concealed by jackets and coats, or ankle holsters, concealed by pants legs.

Afterwards, the group began working on their disguises. Each customizing their appearances how they wished, either through clothing choices or other physical changes. Hair, eyes, makeup, fake scars, fake tattoos, whatever was needed was done. And when the time came, each of them gathered at the Mordred. The walk there was simple, as a path was cut through the jungle with markers set up here and there directing those walking the path to their destinations. Obviously, for the group, that would be Landing Pad 3. The Mordred was always parked there, the pad specifically reserved for it by Zadra. The reasoning? Rather simple. Three was a lucky number.

Valkyrie stood there quietly, propped against the metal rod that lowered the ramp of the Mordred to the ground. Her look hadn't changed all that much, really. A blackened sleak leather jacket over a loose faded pink v-neck shirt, blue jean-like pants, black boots. Her hair was now platinum blonde, instead of its usual mauve color, and had been significantly shortened to a simple bob. In addition, it had been given a stacked, wavy appearance. She wore a pair of aviator shades over her eyes, silver frames with dark blue lenses, and a lit cigarette hung loosely from her mouth. Smoke drifting through the air. She was staring off into space, her hands shoved into her pockets as she stood still. Silent.

Nearby, Eve stood quietly, her arms folded behind her back as they often were. She hadn't changed her look at all. She didn't need to, thankfully. If she did, a simple coat of paint would be optimal.

 

[Breadman]

The armory had a few things Amy could use. A few components here and there for the rifle for maintenance and a restock on grenades and the like. Spider-mines would be harder to get, but maybe Shadespear would be better. A functional side-arm was also welcome. The last job before she jumped into this mess had left her with a broken handgun, so now having a backup was welcome.

When it came to disguises she had something to improvise from whatever was available. The synthetic skin grafted on her decades ago had come in use in situations like this before. A simple change in skin tone would work, but to really throw people off the mark, she learned a trick. Focusing and putting a bit more energy into it, she could force the pigmentation to change, creating a form of custom tattoos. Not as good as a professional artist's creation and would go away in high-stress situations, but for what they were doing, it was enough. She focused for a few seconds and it began to take shape. The color in her face gave away as the skull pattern formed and the surrounding black color flooded in. 'I can make this work.' She thought as she looked through the clothes and gear available. A confident smile crept up as she created a new alter ego. The authorities are searching for a sneaky sniper, but not for a visually loud Death Vigil mercenary with too much confidence. A quick dye job for her hair just to be sure. After some more time working on her outfit, she was done.

Making her way through the ship, the bounty hunter thought of what she needed to be on the lookout. A new rifle would be nice, some new gear too. Maybe there's some good bootleg movies even. As she walked down the ramp, she spotted Valk and Eve.

"Valk, I need your opinion on something." She told the pirate captain and waited for her to turn around and notice the change "Imagine it's 40 years in the past and I just walked out of a dive bar. How much do you want to shoot me?"

 

[K0mori]

Having listened quietly to the briefing, Vixaya decided that she had no questions worth asking and that she should concern herself with getting a proper disguise. This would be a serious challenge; she was shorter than most kanads, and with the unusual coloration of her hair and eyes, as well as her battle scars on her ear and her hands, she'd need help from Easel. She also didn't own much in terms of clothing, but at least that would be an easy problem to solve. As long as she didn't show up wearing the same bright red coat she wore to VOC-1, she'd probably be safe.

Then, a strange feeling came over her. All her life, her appearance had set her apart from others. Having not been sequenced in a machine brought out all sorts of dormant and recessive genes that highblood kanads weren't supposed to have anymore, and she vaguely remembered a time when she felt jealous of the other children on Spirra, wanting to look like they did. That was back when she had lots of feelings, before her father took them all away. A dull anger wormed its way through her limbs, an impotent desire for violence, a want to pull a trigger. [He's dead,] she had to remind herself. [He's gone away forever.]

Vixaya, on some level, wished he were still alive, if only for the chance to kill him herself. Every misfortune in her young life had been caused by the man. Paradoxically, she hated him while being unable to feel her hatred in any meaningful way. Everything inside was cold and very nearly numb, to the point that she couldn't always identify what she felt at all. But her hatred for her father was so strong that even without being able to understand her emotions most of the time, she recognized this singular thread of righteous anguish. But if she even could, she would take his life in an instant, just like he had trained her, and she wouldn't even be able to savor it like so many others would in their own revenge fantasies. She had never enjoyed killing; it was something that just happened.

Sometimes she didn't even remember doing it.

She suddenly found herself outside the meeting room, having been lost in thought. Killing Sirikada Rozel, her father, was both unachievable and would be unsatisfying. The fact that she wanted it at all confused and frustrated her. But as she planned her disguise, she couldn't help but revisit her resentment over her appearance. Sirikada had never planned to have a child. He was too busy planning for the uprising, too busy trying to follow in his own father's footsteps. How Vixaya's mother, Iskaya, had ever fallen for him, was a mystery, as Sirikada had never been willing to talk about his wife or how they met, and she had died so early in Vixaya's life that she couldn't tell the story herself. But Vixaya had learned one unfortunate truth: by loving Sirikada, Iskaya had estranged herself, and by extension, Vixaya, from her entire maternal family.

Vixaya knew is that she owed her existence to her mother, who refused to abort the accidental conception. Some of the people she had known on Spirra told her what a miserable woman Iskaya had been to that point, and how her child was the one ray of hope and joy in a world gone increasingly bleak and violent. But when her mother died in a Kosok precision bombing - one aimed at her father, who wasn't present at the moment - it left Vixaya without a family to care for her. Her father was not true family, and should never have been allowed to keep her. But he did, and although he never asked for her, he found plenty of use for her.

Vixaya became Sirikada's revenge against the Collective.

Again, Vixaya snapped out of her trance, and found herself walking toward the market. She had been doing this all morning, slipping in and out of daydreams about the past, and dwelling on thoughts that brought her no peace. It was now time to think of the future, but would it even be possible to wash away the past?

By the time Vixaya was finally ready, she had managed to hide most of her identifying features, to the point that she boggled at herself in the mirror. Easel had "fixed" her notched right ear and hidden her bioluminescent eyes, despite the smartglass lenses inside her skull making access difficult. Special dyes had been used to give the irises a mint green color, and her hair had been bleached to white. Even her claws had been painted over to match her new eyes, and she couldn't help but wonder if others would finally see her as "normal." She also had a fake mask and a new set of clothes which looked like they had been sold in a Kosok department store, including a round, fuzzy acrylic hat that was too hot to wear outside in Diamond Cove, and a set of boots with a slightly higher heel than she was used to. She might as well have stepped off a shuttle from Kanadys that morning. Even at her distinctly small stature, nobody would recognize her like this, she was sure of it.

As for her equipment, her ZVI was small enough to be practical, but it was uncomfortable to carry under her arm, so Drav helped her pick out a secondary sidearm which could be concealed while her plasma SMG could still be taken in its hard shell carrying case. She settled on a lightweight human-made ballistic pistol made of some sort of polymer. A few adjustments were made to the trigger to make it easier for the kanad to pull, and she practiced engaging and disengaging the safety before putting it away.

She had never tried so hard in her life to blend in. She hoped it wouldn't be a waste of time.

 

[SniperComZero]

Well, Olivia didn't have a whole heck of a lot else to add if no one else wanted to pipe up. She'd go and get her "disguise" ready. A term she used loosely since, really, anyone who properly knew her could probably figure out that it was her. But, any common asshole looking for her off the street? Should fool 'em.

She didn't have much of a need to haul ass over to Drav, the PDW she had would be more than enough to keep her company, and she really didn't feel much need in switching it any time soon. Good old Sol surplus weaponry. All that she really needed was the holster to hide it. And, even if it's just a little too big for that holster. She's got more pride and attachment than to ask for another weapon.

As for her disguise itself, she's got enough civvie clothes that she could just scrounge something up from them, but... she's got her own idea. A look she kinda wants to see if she can pull off.

Of course, with the rather specific nature of her needs, and the fact that hair dye's kind of a bitch to try and actually put in, she's one of the later arriving ones to the crew party. She'd wrangled that one-sided bang of hair into a pretty smooth flowing straightness down to her shoulders. Dyed a dirty blonde, and with a snug-fitting red beret covering the top of her head. She'd changed her eyes from blue to green-- a fairly simple cosmetic change, whenever she actually found the contacts. And, uh. Lipstick, too. Cherry red. A girl can have fun once in a while, can't she? As for her clothing, her neck was mostly covered up by a light scarf, itself partially covered by the collar of a khaki long coat which ended just above the knee, and a sweater which-- well. Turtleneck or not couldn't really be told by how the scarf had it covered up. Down below, the legs of plain olive combat fatigues hung over some shiny, just-polished black combat boots.

...God, she looks like some kind of asshole art student, doesn't she? Maybe journalism student.

"So, uh." One of her hands came out of the coat pocket, motioning to herself. "Too much?"

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Shelby could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect of dressing up. The mission eased its way to the back of his mind, where the real work and danger seemed relatively subdued in the face of assembling a costume. Behind dancing and singing, it was perhaps one of his most favorite things to do - and he had a lot of favorite things. Had they been back home, he could have spent all day simply browsing his costumes, outfits, and assorted clothing, but given how light he packed his bags, he had no suitable clothing on him for the ordeal. Not that he wanted to risk damaging his good clothes. As such, he took off to the market and tore apart the bargain sections where there were a considerable amount of black clothing and attire. If there was one trend that refused to disappear, it was the classic goth. They were all over Castilia, often at odds with the neon punks, who as the name may suggest, wore the brightest assortment of colors possible. Shelby had several outfits for such ready back home for his leisure, or when he returned to perform for a series featuring said aesthetic.

With a ton of new clothing tossed into a cardboard box, Shelby hurried back to his room to get the disguise ready. They only had a few hours, after all. The hardest part would be the assembly and matching - did he wear the skirt with the stockings, or the shredded jeans and chains? Unable to decide, he laid every article out and eyed them from a chair as he straightened his hair before dying it black - but not before adding a very cool and stylish red streak. There was no reason to worry about the color code language off Castilia. There the wrong colors might cause some nasty business, while the correct assortment could mean all sorts of things. DJ, fairy stardust dealer, musician needing a gig, alley cat - too many to count.

In the end, Shelby selected the tight leather pants, shined to lustrous sheen that he buckled at his upper waist with an old military belt, the buckle large enough to serve as a bludgeoning tool in his hands. Admittedly, he had indulged a little too much and bought some simple t-shirts that he wanted for himself, so he ended up wearing an old black shirt with an anime character on it he did not know, nor could he read the katakana written upon it. He painted his nails black, put on black lipstick, shadowed his eyes heavily with liner, and pulled on a little pentagram necklace for good measure. Apparently it meant something outside of the metal scene, but he didn't know about that. Then he pulled on his shoulder holsters kindly given to him by Drav. Within one was his pistol he brought with him and had always been with him, a fairly slim piece he wore in a leg holster, but now moved to the shoulder. In the other holster was a heavier gun - a cheapass SMG that was probably some mass produced crap bought for a dollar or something. But it was concealable, and had a lot of bullets. The magazines fit snug behind his back in a little cloth bundle. At last, he pulled on a baggy black jacket with red trim that matched the streak in his now black hair. The bulk around the chest would also help his original disguise. He looked perfect. Time was running short, but he spared a few minutes to take pictures of himself in the mirror in various poses. A shame he couldn't market this and share it. Perhaps that made it more special.

When the time came, he hurried down to the gathering spot, far more exited than he expected to be - he had to remember he couldn't smile while in costume, because that would be breaking character, but until they left he figured he could get it all out of his system.

Some others had already arrived, and he looked them over wide-eyed, intrigued to see what the others had put on. He liked Olivia's beret so much that he had to let her know. Sidling up beside the woman, Shelby beamed up at her, almost flapping his arms in his enthusiasm. "I really like your beret, Miss Olivia! It is such a great color for you! How do I look? Really, really cool, right? This is, like, the best time I've had since coming here!"

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

Unfortunately, plastic surgery is off the table as there's just not enough material for Easel to work with on Typhon's face. It's become so thin and frail due to degeneration that at this stage he'll be better off with a full transplant if he can afford one. But for now, any money Typhon has is going to supplies and medical equipment for the Reavers; he isn't going to spare any for anything cosmetic or even clothes for his 'disguise' when he has perfectly fine options in his wardrobe already.

The fine leather jacket and the many folded pairs of suit pants, shirts, and ties aren't the only thing he's carrying around after all, though he's never really worn anything outside of that. Fortunately, the situation has called for him to break out his somewhat less-than-formal clothing options as part of his 'disguise'. They sit in a suitcase in his cabin, and they fill the room up with a hard-hitting smell of dust and age while he opens it. Inside are thrown about old clothes all raggedy and worn out. Some of these were things he looted off of dead pirates like the increasingly greying zip-up sweater he wore during that ill-fated assassination attempt on Rook's Wharf many decades ago. Also buried underneath equally-faded clothes is a hooded coat that was a gift from his subordinate and friend Kalag. After the news broadcasts pointed out how sharply he was dressed, this is all perfect. He walks out of his cabin with the stench of musk trailing behind him, completing his destitute look.

Had Valkyrie might not have known better, she would've believed a homeless vagrant rose up from whatever pile of trash they were sleeping on and stumbled his way towards her in a drunken stupor.

He gives her and the others a quick glance as he walks by, though he stops near Eve; closely examining her with suspicion mixed with curiosity.

 

[joshuadim]

Donning a disguise wasn't all too unfamiliar to Vance, considering the types of missions he had to go on both during his brief tenure with SSOID and back during the old days behind enemy lines. The problem was getting the right disguise for the situation which left him to ponder for a bit on what exactly to do. He wasn't particularly fond of what most people considered to be "fashionable" or "hip" in these days which left out a large chunk of what was available out in the wind. He did however have an idea come to him when he checked a bit through the surplus of what was available and decided to go with something a bit more in his style.

As he made his way back to Landing Pad 3, Vance approached with a simple two-piece brown suit, wide-rimmed glasses, an old brown trilby to match, and his beard trimmed to half its length. Simplicity always was better to help blend in was his main thought as he saw how rather outlandish the others looked on the pad at the moment. He didn't have anything in particular to say to anyone that didn't involve admonishing their ability to stand out like sore thumbs and so instead opted to loiter around on the pad and await their next move.

 

[Infab]

"Valk, I need your opinion on something....Imagine it's 40 years in the past and I just walked out of a dive bar. How much do you want to shoot me?"

Valk glanced back, moving the cigarette hanging from her lips into the corner of her mouth. She smirked. "Your ass would be in the dirt in a span of seconds." she remarked, following the statement with a chuckle. "Didn't know that synth skin of yours could do that. I'll have to remember that in the future."

She soon glanced to those that were approaching, taking note of Vixaya's change of appearance. She was almost completely unrecognizable. "Damn fine job, Vix." said the pirate captain, clapping her hands a few times before looking behind her towards the others. She almost laughed when she saw Olivia. "You look like you're heading to an art convention! I'd lose the scarf. Without that, you look more like an uptight merc officer."

Next was Shelby, whom had modified their appearance to look more gothic. "That look works well for you. Kinda figured you'd be more of a pastel goth type, though." she said, folding her arms as she exhaled a puff of smoke through her nostrils. After Shelby came Typhon, who looked more like a worn out hobo with a gun. He'd blend in perfect with the older mercs in the station. "Nice, Typhon. Just try not to get confused for an actual hobo." remarked Valk.

Then came Vance, clad in a two-piece suit and a hat. "Classic look, Vance. You'd fit in more with the upper class Upyri, or the more eccentric businessmen looking to hire mercs or hitmen. Could probably get someone to follow you around like a bodyguard to fit the look." said Valk. As she finished, she noticed two others approaching. Lauren and Damien, each dressed quite differently. Lauren, whom had dyed her hair a shade of black, was now wearing a pair of shades and ear rings. She wore a short red jacket, bearing the markings of a popular gravball team, with a band t-shirt beneath it colored a dull grey. Tight brown leather pants adorned her legs, and a pair of loose combat boots covered her feet.

Damien, on the other hand, was dressed quite clean. He had shaved, and had drawn his hair back into a tight ball instead of a ponytail. He was now wearing a clean white buttoned-down shirt, covered by a form-fitting black jetbike jacket over a pair of black cargo pants and black boots. He was now wearing contacts, colored a light blue, and he wore a pair of squarish eyeglasses to complete the look. His small PDW was tucked into a holster under his arm, while Lauren had what appeared to be her autorevolver tucked under her arm in her own holster.

Both strolled past Valk without a word, but Lauren did pop a piece of bubble gum quite loudly on the way by. Valk cut them both a look, before sighing. Meanwhile, Eve noticed that Typhon was giving her a look. "Yes?" she asked, turning her head to face him.

 

[Breadman]

"Its a hidden perk nobody talks about because they don't think about it." Amy said as she straightened out the beret "If I ever meet Abrax or Hestia again, I'm giving them a kiss, because this thing has been amazing to work with." She stood next to Valk as the others came down the ramp with their own disguises. Vixaya and Shelby had put a lot of effort into their own. Practically transforming into entirely different people with a few details still hinting at what was underneath. Olivia and Vance seemed a bit high-class for a place like this, but if they were paired with her or Typhon, they could pass as the more cutthroat members of high society. Looking to deal with an armed escort. Lauren looked like any troubled youth looking for a fight so she would have no trouble blending in. Damian looked ready to cut a drug deal...and get ripped off.

There were others yet to show up, but Amy already was thinking of potential backstories to go with if she broke off along with someone else while window shopping. But while on that train of thought
"I checked while on the way here and I think one of my older contacts is still around here somewhere. No good for information, but she had a decent place for guns and equipment last time I was here. I'll swing by her later if anyone wants to do some shopping."

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja arrives to the Mordred after her time taken in the market. Her outfit is a bit unconventional in appearance, but somewhat fitting to her personal tastes for a mech pilot. The only addition she makes is a green shawl that goes about her shoulders and bundles up at her neck so that she could easily push it up to cover the lower part of her face. Drav outfitted her with an easily managed PDW with a small shroud to help mask some of the muzzle flash. She looks at the Mordred and then to Valk then to others arriving, what an odd mix and match of people, but hopefully the variety of outfits would help mask who they're affiliated with since no two people look the same.

 

[Viper Actual]

Once the briefing concluded Nathalie went back to her newly-acquired hut to change into another set of clothes. Surprising to none, SSOID agents and operatives working covertly and without support were experts on disguises and camouflage.
Deception was, after all, an artform that could be perfected just as well as any other aspect of infiltration and subterfuge.

Approaching the Mordred's landing pad just as silent as before Nathalie was now dressed in a high-tech but slightly worn BioMembrane bodysuit, synthweave poncho and hood as well as some low-profile armor plating of an unknown material. Currently the hood was resting on her shoulders with a small image-enhancing visor pulled up as well to rest atop of Nat's head. The poncho had also been partially rolled up, revealing tactical pouches on a belt and a dropleg holster, though it was obvious that the poncho would mask all of the gear and break Nathalie's contour when fully rolled out.

As she approached Nat silently observed all of the others. Some disguises were genuinely good but others felt... too colorful and vibrant. She made a silent nod towards Damien before standing at ease at the edge of the group with her arms crossed. The doctor, Typhon, would most likely remain undetected longer than any of the others.
Shelby and Olivia in particular stood out in one way or the other whereas Amy looked frightening- but frightening enough for people to memorize her.

Mentally sighing Nat just hoped that the time on Sielia hadn't made anyone soft. Undetected or not the team would need every ounce of skill they have to make things work.

 

[joshuadim]

"Classic look, Vance. You'd fit in more with the upper class Upyri, or the more eccentric businessmen looking to hire mercs or hitmen. Could probably get someone to follow you around like a bodyguard to fit the look." said Valk.

Vance chuckled at the compliment before looking to everyone else on the platform: "Well, any volunteers for that role?" he asked half-jokingly to the others.

 

[Breadman]

Well, any volunteers for that role?

"Just another day in the merc life." Amy answered back. "Death vigil are desperate these days, so nobody would raise a question."

 

[SniperComZero]

With a cant of her head, Olivia's head turned towards what-- or, whoever, rather, was tugging on her arm. Oh, it's that, uh. Weird kid. Dressed up like a teen in their way rebellious phase and-- actually no that'd explain a lot.

...Yeah, probably not too much.

"Oh-- uh. Thanks? You look. Good, I guess." Olivia's really not good with making up compliments-- especially to someone who's like, way way into it like this kid is. It's a fucking blessing that Valk pipes up to her. "Huh-- oh. So basically you're saying I should keep the scarf on. Makes me way less assuming of being someone actually important if I look like some dumbass grad student." Even if she herself believes already she isn't someone important.

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"Yes?"

“Just examining." he simply responds with. Looking closer at her now, she certainly doesn't look or even dress like any other protocol droid that any of the other powers would make. "You dress too luxuriously to be among pirates..." he says. "...No disguise for you?"

 

[Infab]

"Huh-- oh. So basically you're saying I should keep the scarf on. Makes me way less assuming of being someone actually important if I look like some dumbass grad student."

"Nah. Just makes you look richer, and easier to rob. Its a station full of pirates, outlaws, and criminals." responded a voice behind Olivia. The voice was Aesha's, as the pilot approached the group standing at the Mordred. She had changed her hair color, shifting it from the bright orange she formerly had to white. It was slicked back, using some kind of gel, and her simple eyepatch had been replaced with a squarish piece of metal strapped to her head using two black leather straps. Her other eye now was equipped with a contact lense, coloring it a golden color. A false tattoo marked her neck, a black bar code-like design that stretched around it like a collar, and other similar markings marked her visible skin. False scars also marked her flesh in several places, including a nasty looking one across the side of her face under the eye patch.

The clothing she wore was a set of outdated Upyri gear, worn by the Federation Marines long ago. Common blackened combat fatigues with steel colored reinforced armored plating here and there. A white Upyri skull with golden fangs had been painted on the chest plate, with a pair of crossed gauss rifles beneath. In her hands, a pump-action shotgun to go with a belt of blue colored shotgun shells slung over her shoulder.

"I can stand in as someone's bodyguard, obviously." she stated, looking between Olivia and Shelby. Meanwhile, Eve answered Typhon's question. "I'm normally not among pirates. And if someone were to bother me, I can handle myself quite exceptionally. And no, I will not be using a disguise. At the moment, I am not wanted by any galactic faction or organization. I am effectively a ghost when it comes to these kinds of situations. It also acts as a plus for me, in the event you are outed, as I can disappear and find a way to get you out of such a nasty position."

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"I'm normally not among pirates. And if someone were to bother me, I can handle myself quite exceptionally. And no, I will not be using a disguise. At the moment, I am not wanted by any galactic faction or organization. I am effectively a ghost when it comes to these kinds of situations. It also acts as a plus for me, in the event you are outed, as I can disappear and find a way to get you out of such a nasty position."

So it seems like he and that Sol woman might not be the only ones that are former intelligence after all, and while he would like to inquire about this more, he's got a feeling he's not going to get any answers by asking up front about this. He wisely buries the topic for now and asks something else he's also curious about.

"... But why are you helping us? No one outside would do this for a pirate band." he asks with a hint of sincerity.