Futuristic Burning Sails [OPEN]

[Viper Actual]

"...We can talk personal matters later."

"Understood," replied Nathalie.

"Does SSOID still keep tabs on associates like they used to? I count three good overwatch locations, and two alleyway ambush points. And a choke point just over there."

Nathalie sighed and observed the very same positions Damien called out. Assuming there was a surveillance team in place there would be at least two or four agents nearby to respond. Add the fact that Nathalie was now wanted for something much more high-profile, the fact that Barker was one of best sources in the area and the proximity of Shadespear to the Renegade Quadrant it would be safe to assume that a tactical team was lurking nearby. Assuming the SSOID weren't busy with something more pressing.

Glancing at Damien Nat shrugged slightly. "Honestly, the odds aren't in our favor if they do watch him. Still, whatever intel we can buy, trade or steal from him would be worth our while."

"Ready?"

 

[Breadman]

"While the crow is in the back, how can I help you, handsome?" Mora looked at Vance "What's a serious looking man like you doing in a den like this?"

"He's a client and that's all you need to know." Amy could be heard from the armory, prompting Mora to roll her eyes.

"Is that really all? You can tell me, it's not like I'm friends with people worth a damn."

"How about you explain to me how exactly got your hands on some of these?" Amy's tried to switch topics from Vance to the merchandise "Some of these are top of the line, what the hell?"

"Give me ID numbers and I'll tell you."

"452, 130, 223."

"Right, 452 is a M2360 Lever-Action was formerly owned domr merc who operated primarily out here in the Renegade Quadrant. Always saw it as sort of a Wild West sort of place, whatever that means, so he used something that he thought fit the bill. Ended up getting killed by someone that was a little faster on the trigger than he was. Weapon floated around till it ended up here. Features a modified stock for better scoped accuracy and recoil control, a flip up holographic sight, and a muzzle attachment for lessened recoil. Also has an ammo counter on the side for a quick peek at how many shots you have left before you have to reload.

Item 130 is the Type III Handheld Electromagnetic Projectile Launcher. It was formerly owned by a Sol Navy officer aboard an old Sol Frigate dispatched to the RQ, had a distaste for other Sol produced weaponry. He customized it by giving it a special comfort grip, enhanced electrical systems to improve velocity, and a modified cylinder so that it holds four shots instead of two. It also features a modified receiver, allowing for scopes to be fitted to it. He was killed during a pirate raid, and his gear was sold off for quick cash. Now I have it.

And 223 is a E-350 Rail Rifle. Also used by a merc, but operating in the East. It has been customized with a enhanced scope, enhanced electrical systems, and a modified receiver allowing for larger magazines. The owner was killed by a rival merc band, and his weapon eventually floated out west to the RQ."

"What can you tell me about 632, 417 and 98?"

"Uhh, one second." Mora scratched her head "Right 632 is a MK1 Trench knife custom. Nicknamed Captain's rage by collectors. Called it that because it's the same type of knife used by some captain badass or something. I don't really care, since it just means it's worth more. Its modified. Has sharper spikes on the knuckles, a reinforced blade, and a rubberized comfort grip.

417 is a pretty standard power armor you'd find anywhere where corpos hang out. Worn, but good condition. 98 is a weird mix of Sol and Upyri. Bet you can recognize the markings seeing how you wear them now for some reason." Amy looked closer at the armor and noticed the Death Vigil signs painted on. The previous owner was probably a merc passing through that ended at the wrong end of the line. She then looked back to the MK1 Trench knife. Mora had no idea who she was talking about, but Amy did. This was the same model knife that Taylor had used back in the day. The blade could puncture armor and the hilt would come in handy for bashing someone's skull open. She picked it up and grabbed the Type III revolver as well. She recognized that model as well. Mad dog's model. Not exactly the same thing, but it was so rare that passing on something like that would be a mistake.

"Alright, I'm taking these two with me."

"It will run you 2K in credits. Each."

"You're really gonna charge me that much?"

"You? Yeah. You know how much they're worth and you're not going to find anything like them anytime soon out there. So cough it up or fuck off. Win-win for me either way." She looked to Vance for a second "Unless..." Back to Amy "You give me something in return. Some information and some...closure."

"Are you serious? You want to air out dirty laundry over this?"

"I'm likely never going to get another chance like this." She looked to Vance again "The big guy behind you has me curious. No way he's a pirate or a privateer. I even doubt your his escort, but I'll believe it for now. What's his story?"

"Well..." Amy looked at Vance "How about you tell her, sir?"

 

[joshuadim]

Vance straightened up the moment Mora asked about him as he cleared his throat. His mind raced to make a cover story that had a modicum of sense to it so as to pass as believable and settled on something in particular: "Well, you are correct that I am not a pirate nor privateer. But she is my bodyguard, and a rather dutiful one at that, for I am but a purveyor of... *unique* goods and oddities for a client of mine back on Nyx." he began to speak, changing his intonations to seem more 'uptight'. "In particular, I am currently looking for items of such interest here on Shadespear for I have heard all sorts of these types of goods pass through here."

"Although if you are looking for a name, I simply go by V in my line of work." he then continued, running his fingers over several of the weapons. "We are here in your humble shop so that my friend here can stock up on weapons necessary for her job. Although, I am rather unfamiliar with the working of this place as it is my first time here so if you could point me in the right direction to those that have such things I look for then you would have my *eternal* gratitude and we'll be on our way shortly." He added a bow at the end there to sell the act of who he was playing as.

 

[Breadman]

"My stock isn't good enough I see. Where did you find this one?" Mora looked at Amy with some suspicion.

"He posted a job ad."

"While running with pirates. Did she tell you that Mr. Vee? Or did she neglect that detail to hide other things."

"You got your answer, Mora. Leave the man alone." Amy was becoming more frustrated with her with each exchange.

"Oh but he should be aware that you might shirk your duty and leave without a warning at any time. Leaving you high and dry at the lowest point in your life. Isn't that right, sister." Mora hissed the last word out finally pushing Amy to respond with slamming her hand on the counter, making a loud thud.

"Mora, stop talking and actually listen to me this time, because this will be the last time I'm bothering with you." The shop owner went quiet and stared at her without trying to hide the contempt. "Your sister send us all into a pit of giant insects in order to get a shot of getting back at her ex-husband. The woman I held dear in my heart died in that hole because of it. You don't get to tell me that I abandoned you when I was pushed away from the Alpha sisters once it was clear she wouldn't get any sort of punishment for the petty bullshit that took Priscila away from me. What Viga did to you after was not something I wanted for you and I am sorry that you were hurt." Mora touched the mask and cables almost by instinct by the look of it "What they did to you after is horrific. But over the years you've blamed me when you should have been blaming them. They put that on you instead of funding your recovery. I told you this every time we met until I gave up."

"Yeah, you gave up alright. You just abandoned me all the same when it became clear I didn't want your pity or your charity. You never figured it out did you? The oath we swore those years ago was meant to make us a family. And you ruined that, Koronova."

"Your family turned its back on me when I needed it most, Mora. Its why I gave up on it." Amy tapped a few buttons on the holoband "But you win. Here's your cash and a promise that you'll never see me again as long as I can help it."

"We'll see how that lasts." She looked to Vance again "Hope she keeps her cool around you for longer." She paused for a second before pointing in a direction "You want fancy shit? Try the shops down the street. The Atomic powerhouse is a gimmicky name, but has some oddities you can buy."

Picking up her new gear, Amy turned around and motioned for Vance to follow her. Once they were outside and she heard the door shut she sighed

"That was a fucking mistake." She turned to Vance "I am...really sorry you had to hear that."

 

[joshuadim]

The whole conversation deteriorated fast the moment after Vance finished speaking as Mora started airing whatever bad history she had with Amy. He stuck out like a sore thumb as the two argued with one another over situations and history he never had a part in and Vance practically stiffened up as the two had their back and forth. One thought crossed through his mind the entire way through: I don't want to be here.

Vance swiftly followed Amy out of the shop without hesitation after seeing how uncomfortable the conversation was getting between the two. They clearly had bad blood between them in some manner and he felt he was stuck completely in the middle of it awkwardly. He let out a very quiet sigh of relief the moment they left the oppressive atmosphere of Mora's shop before hearing Amy's apology. "That's alright. Everyone's got baggage of some sort... though I imagine how bad it is for it to be aired like that in front of a stranger like me." he replied looking around for the shops Mora talked about before spotting in the distance the distant neon lit sign of the Atomic Powerhouse.

"Let's not dwell on that. That shop she was talking about is just over there," he pointed towards its general direction before beginning to walk there. "Might as well look for some stuff there." He motioned for Amy to follow as he slowly made his way there.

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

Basic kinetic rifles looted from fallen Federation and Sol troopers that fell at the hands of pirates and mercenaries, personalized plasma and laser pistols with their former owner's name and effects tackily pasted on them, and other assorted weaponry which Typhon had seen (and perhaps had even been on the business end of) before lined the shelves and presented themselves in their glass cases. None of these caught Typhon's eye or his interest for that matter, save for three; though one was out of pure bewilderment at seeing it still around. A clearly looted plasma pistol that's been very well modified and well kept, a familiar looking type of Crimus revolver that he remembers the sound of far too well and the kind of excruciating pain it causes, and most surprising of them all, an old UNGSI rifle. How in the world it found itself here in pirate space of all places, Typhon isn't sure, but it looks just as old and fragile as he does and it probably works just the same too. If anything, he'd like to fire it just to see how quickly it'll fall apart in his hands, but that'd be a waste of money that he doesn't have much of.

"See anything you want?"

"Yes." he responds after snapping out of his browsing. "That one." Typhon points to the M18 Hell Cannon. While that plasma pistol would be nice to have, he could just kill a feddie and take it off of their body if he wanted one that badly. Crimus weapons are seldom seen outside of their space due to Federation and Sol weapons being way more widespread and preferred for some reason, so this is a chance to finally get one of their finer weapons; one he might never have again.

 

[K0mori]

"I'll pay for it... That and a phased-plasma rifle in the 40-watt range."

The ayr's eyes narrowed at the second kanad's entry. Even with a disguise and an audible attempt to change her voice, fooling a telepathic being wasn't an easy task. Nonetheless, the shopkeeper seemed amused rather than annoyed at the request. "Hey, just what you see, gal," he said sarcastically as he took the credits. Vixaya was surprised at Kalashi's approach and wondered if it was only a coincidence that the cyborg had crossed paths with her here. While it was easier to speak with those who knew her language, Vixaya had made no attempt to introduce herself to the fearsome bounty hunter lurking with the Reavers.

Across the galaxy, there were still many kanads who were deeply opinionated about the civil war and the resulting transformation of the Collective's political institutions. On one hand, many offworlders were relieved at the liberalization of travel and the reduction of surveillance from the omnipresent GK, while on the other hand, some who had subscribed to the old regime's doctrine of kanad supremacy heavily resented the elevation of "lesser" races to a virtually equal standing within the reformed Kosok government. These bitter individuals were likely to view the Spirran war veterans as traitors to both their nation as well as their race. Vixaya had no idea of where Kalashi fell on this spectrum, and was waiting for her to make the first move.

Apparently, Kalashi wasn't hostile.

Still, Vixaya was intimidated by Kalashi's huge frame, taller than most of the humans on the crew, armored, and carrying around an OBN-391 anti-material rifle that had somehow been cut down and converted into a revolver. It would be comical if it wasn't so terrifying. "Ke'pita," she said simply as she slipped her other hand into the other claw. Thanks. She admired the shine on the metal for a moment as she inspected the tips of her fingers, before stepping away from the counter and leaving the store.

---
​

A moment later, Kalashi exited the store as well, to find that Vixaya was standing outside and watching a group of upyri blowing clouds of vapor and smoke outside of another store. She seemed lost in thought, with one arm across her body and supporting the other; a clawed finger tapping gently on the side of her fake breathing mask near the ports where she actually took in air, at the base of her skull just above her jacket's collar.

"[Why did you do that?]" she asked slowly. "[I could have paid, myself.]"

 

[Infab]

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess." responded Damien, glancing to the housing unit one last time. That was likely where their communications unit was situated, what with the antenna jutting out of the roof. Scrambling comms here in this sector of the station would take immediate priority, should they get made. He then motioned towards the building. "Ladies first."

​

The Namur waved Typhon over. "One thousand, since it's one of the rarer ones." said the large feline, as they started typing away on a computer on the other side of the desk. Drav, meanwhile, shook hands with Wyatt over the price for the weapon parts. Fifty thousand credits for the parts. A good deal for older stuff. As Wyatt went to complete the purchase in the back, Drav turned about and folded her arms as she watched Typhon complete his own purchase.

​

Lauren's trek through the marketplace had proven uneventful for the most part. She did quite a bit of window shopping, gazing in at the various wares and weapons that were scattered about. Most of it was junk, as usual, but every now and then she'd find something worth inspecting a little. She did manage to catch Vixaya heading into a local fetish shop, which forced her to cock an eyebrow but didn't think much else of it. Whatever floated her boat, be it lace, latex, or leather. She did tell her to individualize, after all.

Eventually, Lauren found herself slipping inside a small music shop. Jazz's Audio Emporium, Jazz being a local Aracaan with a thing for music. Specifically her namesake. Lauren frequented this place quite often, poking through the racks and aisle which stretched across the narrow store. Punk was her thing, both the old stuff as well as NeoPunk and other assorted new age music. There were also a selection of instruments and equipment inside the store in a corner, most of it used but still in good condition. She wandered over, locating a specific cherry-red electric guitar that never seemed to get sold, and began strumming away on it to a song she had been listening to earlier in the day. The distorted sounds from the guitar poured from one of the nearby amps, which caught Jazz's attention at the back of the store behind the counter. The Araccan didn't say anything, however. Lauren was a regular. She didn't bother regulars. Two of the other patrons in the store did stop to listen for a moment, however, before returning to looking through the various tapes and discs.

She played for a little while, eventually changing to a different song, before glancing out the window nearby to see Shelby pass by. Wonder what our little reporter is up to?

​

"Ever been to the Quicksilver Bar, Zadra?" asked Valk, glancing to her engineer as they walked through the small crowds and cluttered hallways down towards where the larger resteraunts and bars were in the market sector. Zadra shook her head. "Never. Didn't even know there was one." stated the engineer, looking about at the people they passed. Keeping an eye out for anyone that they might know. Eve spoke up next. "I've been there a total of six times. Its rather refined for a pirate bar." mentioned the android.

Valk nodded. "Yeah. I've been there twice. First time was when I first met Uric." she said. Her expression shifted slightly, and she grew quiet after revealing that particular piece of information. Zadra glanced to her, as did Eve, but neither said anything. They soon found themselves descending a flight of stairs, and the large silver neon sign reading QUICKSILVER came into view. Written in a fancy cursive, and with what looked like a vial of spilled mercury at the end to punctuate it. The bar itself was rather large, with two main entrances which were large archways. There were people scattered about, either hanging out and talking or walking around. Entering, exiting, or passing the large establishment. Music could be heard as well, Crash Metal.

"They should be inside. Shall I enter and locate?" asked Eve, looking to Valk once more. Valk shook her head. "We'll head in together." she responded, before noticing her holoband blinking. A message from the new girl Katja.

Where is meeting place?

The meeting place is the Quicksilver Bar. Head to the right side of the marketplace from where we were at the elevator, down the hallway there, and down a flight of stairs. Can't miss it.

Once she sent the message off, sending the directions to everyone instead of just Katja, Valk looked to the two with her. "Let's go."

 

[DG-117]

Kalashi simply nods back, throwing down the credit chits onto his counter, she stares him down for a short moment before deciding that it was enough. Dealing with Ayr is always a mind game, getting caught in it is the first mistake. She walked out a few seconds later, following after the girl. Slamming the door behind her, making a loud thud as it bashed back shut.

After getting outside the shop, Kalashi suddenly realizes that her hand was on her OBN, the holster already loosen and the hammer cocked back. Kalashi lets out a long sigh after noticing, she glances around the area before tightening the holster back up and switching the gun's safely back on. A Hair-trigger with it can lead to a bloody accident, like what happened in the valley years back around here.

Nonetheless, Kalashi made sure to straighten her robes before turning to look back at the girl after asking her a question.

"[Why did you do that?]" she asked slowly. "[I could have paid, myself.]"

"[Smiple...]" Kalashi answered, turning to fully face her, looking down onto her green eyes behind the mask. Her Rozhiv-dialect was quite noticeable to those fluent in Kanad, faster and more punctual than that of the slower accents found among speakers living outside of the Kosokom.

"[I have a number of these credit chits, see?]" Kalashi said as she swiftly pulled out a dozen or so plastic cards from under her robes, most were covered in deep scratches, scorch marks, and even dried up blood.

"[Found them back on VOG-1, they are disposable chits usually carried to move credits around in less-than-legal circles. They got a fast expiration date, non-depository. So better go through them as fast as possible.]" She told her before quickly putting them back into her robes.

"[Besides, that old bastard didn't even have what I wanted, never does]" She said while glancing back at the store.

"[So I thought I might as well give you a break... It looks like you need one.]" She started towards her, lowering her head to better match the young Kanad's eye level.

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"One thousand, since it's one of the rarer ones."

A steep price, even for a rare revolver. Typhon's not exactly the richest man in the quadrant either and he needs to keep most of his money just in case he needs to buy emergency medical supplies... and yet, his submachine gun is all he has. It's excellent for covert operations and as a backup, but he has nothing that hits hard, and he's going to need something that'll pack a punch. What better option than the very same type of revolver that blew out one of his knees during a raid?

The little card comes out of his coat, but before he slides it over to the Namur, he asks one last question. "It comes with ammo, yes?"

 

[joshuadim]

As Amy and Vance entered into the Atomic Powerhouse, it became evidently apparently that the gimmick wasn't in just the name alone. Everything from the clutter on the walls to the absolutely filled to the brim shelves and display cases showed that this was someone's hoard, or rather what they viewed as a personal treasure trove, for sale to anyone interested in whatever they saw in front of them. Practically everything from obscure engine parts to full blown weaponry and armor parts to antiques of various kinds were visible on display along with a few currently idle security turrets guarding from would be thieves. A door near the back was open and, from what could be viewed, led into a massive garage filled with what was assumed to be even more stuff to browse through.

If it weren't for the smell of stale engine oil, odd incenses, and other unknown odors it would have impressed Vance but at the moment he could only wrinkle his nose at it. "Damn... feels like this place hasn't been opened up in years." he muttered, taking into account the stock around. "Do people actually buy stuff from here? Or did Mora fuck with us-" he then started to say before a sudden chitter interrupted him and a lone, height-challenged figure could be seen approaching them.

"Many customers come. Buy wares. Great prices." the Rakeed spoke between chittering and sniffing as he sat behind the counter and picked up a holotablet, "You no steal anything. Turret no need to shoot you. Yes?"

Vance simply cleared his throat to speak: "Of course, I wouldn't dare steal anything here. I meant no offense by the smell-"

"Many people make fun of Rakeed, no? We too uncivilized? " the Rakeed responded with a growl, clearly having taken offense to Vance's earlier comment.

"...I could take my business elsewhere if you are." Vance replied, which made the Rakeed quickly change its disposition.

"No! Good money, good customer, yes?" the ratling quickly replied motioning to everything, "Browse. See what like. You show, I give price. Yes?"

Vance then looked at Amy, "I'll be looking around. Maybe I'll find some nice armor or something... who knows? Maybe you can find some of those comic books you mentioned too." he said as he began to move about the place, looking at the extremely large collection that was available to peruse through. The question was though: was there anything of interest in these endless piles of stuff?

 

[Breadman]

That's alright. Everyone's got baggage of some sort... though I imagine how bad it is for it to be aired like that in front of a stranger like me.

"Decades old problems we should have moved past long ago." Amy sighed before Lance continued

Let's not dwell on that. That shop she was talking about is just over there. Might as well look for some stuff there.

"Yeah, let's find you something you can use." Amy followed Vance towards the shop Mora had 'helpfully' pointed them towards. As they walked she felt the regret of seeing her again get worse as the bad blood between them got like that. She needed to get it together if she wanted to survive this. The past with the Alpha sisters is just that. The past. Her future is at home with her family. Her attention was brought back to reality when Vance got into a conversation with a Rakeed. Amy shook her head as she had rarely seen any of them, let alone one of them owning a shop. "I'm a little depleted on cash, but shouldn't be too much of a problem. Depending on the prices." She really didn't see much of anything to catch her eye in the store for now. Maybe Vance would have better luck.

 

[Viper Actual]

"Ladies first."

Nathalie smirked underneath her mask and made an amused grunt. Then, as the two of them began to advance on the security office she straightened up. "Once we're inside I'll do the talking. You just make sure to fan out and observe, don't want to make things easy for him if he does get twitchy. If he won't give us the intel we need- and assuming the SSOID are right around the corner- I reckon we have a minute to work with, tops."

"We might need to split up and rendezvous someplace else afterwards."

Upon arriving at the lone reinforced door Nathalie knocked twice. A worn intercom next to the door crackled to life. "What do you want?" Asked a gruff voice on the other side. "Here to see Barker," replied Nathalie. "Mhm..."

The intercom died down and the door was unlocked with a hiss. Upon entering it was clear that the office was not as spacious as the exterior might have hinted it to be. For starters the staircase was cut in half and taped off with a holographic sign. What little could be seen of the upper floor looked scorched and blackened, hinting to a previous fire. This suspicion was confirmed as one corner of the lower room was filled with stacked boxes, scorched computers and discarded fire extinguishers.

Next to the stockpile of salvaged office supplies was an old and dirty metal desk. It was covered with holodiscs, printed reports and a plethora of other items. All of which looked used and dirty. Behind the desk was a rather fat security officer seated in a rotating office chair which was constantly creaking and whining with every inch of movement made by Barker himself as he watched Damien and Nathalie approach.

Barker's uniform was something in-between 'clean' and 'worn', some parts like his elbows and knees were bleached while other parts here and there showed loose threads. Barker's features were not the most attractive ones with a heavy neck and chin alongside a sharp and fat nose. His eyes were deep and tired and his shoulder-long hair had been tied into a sloppy bun just as greasy as his untrimmed bear. A tattoo on his neck appeared to be the mark of some pirate faction, though it was both scarred and slightly faded making identification difficult.

Crossing his arms and raising his chin Barker looked at Nat and Damien. "Well, let's start with the who and what, shall we?"

Without a word Nathalie's right arm appeared from under her cloak and tossed something towards Barker. Catching it mid-air, Barker turned and opened his hand to reveal a silver coin. It bore the marking of the now-defunct Legkiy Colonial Administration. To some it would mean nothing but to Barker it was a signal. Nodding, he tossed it back at Nathalie who catched it. "Spooks, huh?" He studied Nathalie from top to bottom. With a chuckle he studied Damien too before leaning in towards his desk.

"What can I do for you? Security feeds? Plant a transponder?"

"No," replied Nathalie. "I need shipping receipts. Arms and ammunition. Six months back and anything planned in the system going six months forward." She shrugged. "That or access codes to monitor the system myself on behalf of my team."

Grunting, Barker activated his holographic terminal. "I can give you both, though the last option will be rather... costly..." Barker finished his sentence with a grin. He turned back towards the monitor.
"I just need your operation code."

"That won't be needed," replied Nathalie. Barker raised an eyebrow. "Then how will the SSOID pay the bill?"

"They won't. I will. Off the books." Nathalie took two steps forward. Barker reared back slightly. "If you expect me to do something off the books for you and your spook buddy then you better have credits. A lot of it."
Nodding, Nathalie placed a small stack of chits on the table. "First payment. For your generous cooperation and aid. I can get you another thousand per shipment."

"Three thousand," replied Barker. Nathalie tilted her head slightly. "One thousand five-hundred."
Barker glanced at Damien before looking back at Nathalie. "Two thousand. Even."

Nathalie nodded. "Deal." She placed a communicator on the table. It was a highly encrypted and much more secure version of the SDF's most common holocommunicator used by officers. Though this version was used by SSOID agents. "Use this when you hear about any planned shipments. Shipments going to Upyri or Upyri-affiliated space is of higher interest."

Grabbing the chits and the communicator Barker nodded. "Going after the separatists, huh? Good on you." He leaned back in his chair. "I'll be in touch."

Nodding, Nathalie glanced at Damien before making for the door. Once outside and a short distance away from the door Nathalie sighed. "That went better than expected." She looked at Damien. "Think he made us?"

 

[Infab]

"It comes with ammo, yes?"

"Yeah. All purchased weapons come with one box of ammunition. Once you buy the weapon, go outside, walk around to the right side of the store, and there will be a drop box attached to the side of the building. Your ammo will be in there. We only provide ammunition after the customer has left the store. Store policy, after a few incidents where idiots would buy a weapon, load it up, and try to rob the place with the weapon they just bought." responded the Namur. "Its also why all the ammunition is behind the counter here."

They took the card, and rang up the purchase before sliding it back to Typhon. "Thanks, and come again." stated the Namur, as they turned around and searched for a box of ammunition to go with the pistol. After a few moments of searching, checking the shelves and counters across the store behind the wall of glass, they finally found a can of ammo. They then strolled to the right side of the store, to where an armored dropbox door awaited. A moment later, the can slid into place inside the drop box. Typhon's ammo was waiting for him.

Drav, meanwhile, had finished up her conversation and sale with Wyatt, whom had returned to his office and shut the door. "Big revolver." she said, looking at the weapon Typhon had bought. "Crimus. Not seen many those." She then turned about, moving towards the exit of the shop. "Should look around market more. See if useful gear for sale."

​

As Vance wandered around the shop, looking through the endless piles of gear and weaponry, he eventually spotted three things that stood out among the others. A melee weapon, some armor, and an oddity amongst all the other stuff in the room. The melee weapon was what appeared to be a large industrial plasma saw, looking well used but still functional. Plasma saws were much like plasma sabers, projecting a highly focused jet of plasma to cut through things, but the plasma saw's jet was far larger thanks to its use of four coupled plasma batteries instead of one like a saber. It seemed someone attempted to give its frame a paint job at one point, but the paint had chipped and fallen off over time.

The armor was a set of reinforced combat armor, seemingly of corporate make. It appeared to have been used by mercenaries once, and was covered with dinks, scorch marks, and bullet impacts. Otherwise, it looked perfectly suited for more use. The paint was mostly intact, and all the pieces were still there save for a helmet. It was a rather nice find, and appeared as though it would fit Vance's large frame quite well. The third object, which stood out the most, was a set of three small black cylindrical grenades. The sides of them read in big block letters 'SMART'. Vance recalled having heard of these before from somewhere while working with SSOID. Smart grenades, when used, would burst open in mid-air, releasing three impact grenades that would home in on hostile targets. The question was would they work without the use of a targeting aid linked to them? That wasn't much of an issue, however, as he was sure he could find a visor or goggles that would link to them and provide target information.

The grenades were a rarity out here, as mostly special forces groups used the corporate-produced devices. How this Rakeed came into possession of them was a mystery, but here they were. And they were for sale.

​

"That went better than expected." She looked at Damien. "Think he made us?"

"Didn't seem like he did... but obviously we can never be sure." responded Damien. His mind, during their conversation, had been on the signs of fire and damage inside the structure. Had it always been like that in there? Perhaps a few vandals decided to try and torch the office. Or a rival group had decided to try and destroy what information they had stashed there. "... I wonder how that fire started?" he muttered, curious about it all. "Obviously some information was stored on site. And he, and the building, wouldn't have been there had SSOID found no further use for him. Think ONI or someone else tried to destroy some of the information he had tucked away? Or do you think some dipshits just decided to take out their frustrations on the security on the station?"

Shortly afterwards, he shook his head. "A topic for later. If we split up, it would make us look more suspicious and open to attack. Strength in numbers. We can just wander into the market and disappear into the crowds."

​

As Valkyrie, Zadra, and Eve entered one of the Quicksilver Bar's two entrances, they began to take in the sights and sounds of the establishment and its patrons. The central bar area was rather expansive, the bar itself sitting at the center while there were various seats scattered about filled with people of various types. Pictures of starships and other craft lined the outsides of the seats and walls, while parts of engines and boosters hung by chains from the ceiling above. There were two floors, the upper areas also packed with people. A game room sat at the far end, filled with a mix of simulators and more physical things like pool and poker tables. The pool tables and card games seemed to see more use than the simulators.

Smoke hung lazily above most of the room, thanks to several smoking cigarettes, cigars, and other things. Music played from the speakers mounted in the corners of the room, with a large central jukebox fitted to the side of the bar at the center. A lone android bartender stood behind the bar, dressed in formal wear and preparing several shots of whiskey for a group of mercs standing at the bar. It appeared they were celebrating a successful mission, most of them in high spirits but bearing the marks of battle with bandages and cuts adorning their forms and faces.

The trio began to look around, searching for Nil and Caiden amongst the various people and seating areas. "Shouldn't be hard to find them, especially if Nil hasn't changed wh--" said Valk, before getting poked in the side. She glanced back, wondering what was going on, before noticing a young man with a lavender colored mohawk, three black diamonds marking his forehead, and wearing a black leather outfit that made him look as if he had just stepped out of a BDSM shop. He was standing immediately behind her, a wide grin on his face. "Hey!~" he said cheerfully.

It was Nil, and behind him stood a much taller bearded man with a heavily scarred face. Clad in a black t-shirt, a faded leather jacket, and camo cargo pants. Caiden Valentine.

"Nil, Caiden." said Eve, giving both a nod. "You're fifteen minutes ahead of schedule! Which is normal for you, Eve. Obviously." said Nil, his grin shifting to a smirk as he motioned to her. Eve nodded again. "As I've always said, its better to be early than on time." replied the android.

Caiden motioned to the second floor. "We can talk up there." said the man. He sounded as if he had already started drinking before hand. He likely had, with his line of work and who he was working with... and for. Valk nodded, following after Nil and Caiden as they proceeded towards the staircase up to the second floor.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja takes Valk's directions and finds herself arriving at the bar after a short jaunt, she enters the bar just as she spots Valk and the two others meeting a rather garishly dressed man and a pretty rugged looking older man. She slips through the crowd deftly before slipping up to where they were ascending the staircase, she has her helmet off and tucked under her arm. She quietly follows them after giving Valk a hushed greeting to indicate she had caught up to them. She probably isn't one of the invited guests, but she hopes that Valk will let her stay to the meeting so she can ask her question about the implant.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

The drug den Shelby was seeking was called Fervor, and it was his last resort. When he first spotted the location he passed it up to search for others, but after a search around the area, none of the sellers had what he wanted, or seemed genuine, or particularly safe. There would be no licensed streetfront shops here like on Castilia, where intoxicants were put on display behind confectionery cases. But this - this was something else entirely. A handwritten sign invited - or rather, lured - prospective customers to the entrance of a service tunnel. The path ahead was a dreary tight corridor, filthy from neglect and the effluvial decay born from the accumulation of trash and the leaking of various rust-black pipes. The stench was kept at bay only by grace of several ailing fans, cooling the nearby cold storage of a shop at the result of bathing the alleyway in a constant wash of tepid exhaust. At the very end of the dark corridor was a too bright light hanging over a metal door. There, above it, an old digi-sign with the word Fervor displayed in red.

The harrowing journey just to reach the creepy store wouldn't have otherwise been worth it, had Shelby not been low on his own supply he had brought with him since he ran away. The other vendors he visited in the area simply weren't worth it, either, and this... this definitely did not seem worth it. He could imagine the metal door leading to some meat market where once he enters, he'd be the next thing on the hooks to be fed to some bloodthirsty alien race, or maybe some maniac cult. If not a meat market, then flesh traders. Castilian security forces were constantly busting slave traders. Or maybe there was just some wacko down there waiting to rob him and all the other idiots who wandered down. But he needed a resupply. Who knew how long it would be before he could get anything again. And if he couldn't before he ran out... things would get really, really bad. This was his only option. At least this time, he had an extra gun, and plenty of bullets. He'd even trained a little with it.

Shelby hurried over to a nearby vendor near the tunnel entrance. "I'm going down there, if I'm not back in, like, ten minutes, call uh... call the security people." The street food seller shrugged, somewhat annoyed to be interrupted from watching something on their tablet before Shelby moved on. He'd need a bath after this. And a manicure. And an exfoliation. He had to hold his breath as he tiptoed over the damp refuse and fluid puddles and, before he knew it, he was at the end of the lonely, decrepit corridor standing outside the door to the shop. Or whatever was on the other side.

He grasped the handle and realized the door slid open, like some industrial warehouse door, and he was met with the peculiar atmosphere of... nothing. A sort of very dry, very bland air wafted out, not cold but not warm, either, a clearly artificial equilibrium enforced by the low hum of old systems. The interior was much like the air - dim and empty, the overhead lights emanating a low, almost brown illumination, the plastic protectors having never once been cleaned. The floors were swept, but bland and colorless, as were the walls themselves save for all the merchandise hanging in little pouches or boxes on the walls. No labels, no way of knowing what was inside them. Each of the containers were joined by a strange arrangement of nails sticking from the wall, some bound with loose metallic wire.

The far side of the shop - or whatever this place was - was dark, the furthest recess pitch black and devoid of color. He could make out a salvaged countertop with a few plants on top, and the interior boasting several more items of flora in nutrient containers under the warm glow of red lamps. As for what lay behind the counter, Shelby couldn't see. The place almost seemed abandoned.

"H-Hello?" he called out tentatively, not more than a few feet from the still open door. He was ready to dash away in an instant if need be. Without lights on in the back, he feared something strange had happened here, such as a robbery or just something... weird. "Hello," a voice drifted back; low and raspy, like dry parchment rubbing together. When they spoke again, the words came out cumbersome, almost stilted, marred with a strange background whistle, "Please shut the door. The gouge - I cannot see."

Shelby considered running, but steadying his nerves, he slowly closed the door and remained beside it. "Thank you," the voice said again, punctuated by the sound of something snapping. "Speak. You come to see - for fervor, as all do. Name your desire, and I shall have crafted it."

"Do... do you have animal candy? They're edibles. Um, they're warmblood mellow," he said, feeling rather small as he conversed with the darkness on the other side of the store. "And um, sprinkles, you know, stuff you put on food."

"Ahhhh," the voice sighed heavily. "Refreshing. You speak dialect, of the world Cas-ti-li-a. Yes. Such words describe what I possess, for unlike most, the fervor must match the sight. Quaint. Fragile. Amusing. You may wait outside as I collect, if you so wish." Shelby held his hands to his abdomen to keep them steady. "Why, ah, why would I want to go outside?"

"Merely a suggestion. My countenance is not friendly to those lost in fervor. Are you in fervor now?"

"I... don't think so, no."

From out of the darkness emerged a thing of shadow. Or rather, a thing of meat and bone that wore the shadows as one might wear clothes. A twisted pair of molting antlers emerged from a bovine-like skull, devoid of skin, instead displaying what appeared to be bare, raw muscle sinew, clinging to the recesses and joints. From the horns, a number of strings were tied, each holding a circular or square ring hanging at various heights. Their mouth was a cage of sharpened, bared teeth, glistening with saliva, though the rest of their body - save for their claw like, double jointed hands - were unseen, cloaked behind a voluminous black pair of robes. They moved with a disturbing jitter, as if caught between two different speeds, like a video stuck between slow motion and fast forward. Shelby held his breath and went very still as they moved past him to the wall in the back. The alien coughed once, a raspy whistle that slowly died away. After a moment, it reached out for two separate containers on the wall. "See. Look to me. These are what you speak of, are they not, seeker?"

Cradled in their too-large hands were a pair of clear plastic bags, the same type you would see anywhere else for this type of candy. Within, Shelby could see the rainbow colored assorted shapes of sea creatures, and in the other, an especially typical assortment of normal looking sprinkles. Shelby nodded, and realized the creature had no eyes, but before he could speak, the alien opened its mouth in a semblance of a smile. "Yes. This is a den of art, of fervor. I have all and can make all. I am... delighted... these colors have meaning, for the concept means nothing to me."

The alien shuffled back to the counter, and, almost comically, a tablet pay screen appeared out of the dark. "Agreeable price?" They asked, and Shelby nodded again, not quite able to speak. He used his on hand credits to pay without evoking his hidden bank line that he was unwilling to use in person anywhere.

"T-Thanks," Shelby said at last, tucking the candy away into the interior pocket of his jacket. He turned back to counter, but the creature had disappeared into the infinite blackness again. As if emerging from a dream, Shelby stepped back out into the alley and to the marketplace, bustling with the same activity as earlier. Unbeknownst to him, he had met his very first Valnax.

 

[joshuadim]

Out of all the things Vance scoured through in the store, three things in particular stood out to him that would have use or value in one way or another for his mission. The plasma saw, while useful for melee or for perhaps dealing with obstructions, looked like it had been through hell. Besides, he preferred to use his fists to deal with problems in close quarters as it provided more flexibility for the situation. The armor was of some interest, and was in higher condition than what he had previously mentioned but overall it wasn't anything like the suit he still had from SSOID even if it did get considerably banged up with the combat from VOC-1.

That was more than enough reason to disregard it ultimately and Vance was prepared to leave disappointed until he noticed something stuffed among piles of other junk on one of the display cases which he instantly recognized as a set of smart grenades. The value of these to deal with enemies behind cover or perhaps out of range was invaluable and so Vance quickly grabbed it and brought it over to where the Rakeed had sat himself at. "How much for these?" he asked inquisitively to which the Rakeed only scoffed.

"Hah! They no smart, they DUMB! No work." the store owner spoke with anger, "Bad purchase I make." Vance didn't let his thoughts betray the moment as he knew that they simply required a targetting system for them to lock on to properly. The Rakeed didn't seem to know that. That could be arranged elsewhere, but Vance in the meantime wanted these. "Alright, so they don't work. How much?" Vance asked again.

"5000 credit."

Vance scoffed aloud at the outrageous price and shook his head, "You're joking? You just said they didn't work."

"Yes but you want. You buy at price if you want."

"Well," Vance replied as he played along, "What makes you think I would pay that price for something that doesn't even work. I'll just take my business elsewhere if that's how it's gonna be-" he then started to say before the Rakeed quickly jumped up from his seat in panic at the prospect of losing a sale. "No! Ok... I sell for... 2000! Good price!"

Vance narrowed his eyes and looked down at the shopowner before replying with his own barter: "1000."

The Rakeed squeaked in anger before thumping a foot on the floor. "1500! Final!"

With a smirk, Vance handed over the credit chits that equaled that amount and walked away proudly with his new haul. "Let's get out of here, shall we?" Vance asked Amy as he headed for the door with his haul.

 

[K0mori]

"[So I thought I might as well give you a break... It looks like you need one.]"

Vixaya looked at the credit chits and wondered exactly how Kalashi "found" them back at VOC-1. She imagined the cyborg looting them off the mounds of dead bodies left behind by the enemy while the station was approaching its doom. Had there been enough time for that? Vixaya couldn't remember; it was all a haze from the moment the shooting began. Perhaps Kalashi had acquired them a different way. She decided not to ask.

"[I guess so,]" she replied, looking quickly away. She didn't like it when others stared into her eyes. "[I still have some money to spend, and there's a lot left to see here. Are you going to keep following me?]"

Kalashi hesitated a moment before answering. It was difficult to tell whether Vixaya had meant to sound so accusatory, as her tone was so implacable as she stared off into space. "[I wasn't-]" she started to reply, but it seemed moot. The little one didn't seem to trust her yet, and that would take time regardless of how she answered. "[I'm not following you. But if we cross paths again, just know I'll have your back if you need it,]" Kalashi said. Vixaya cautiously lifted her head and looked at the towering bounty hunter.

"[Oh, and before you leave... Your mask looks genuine, but it's missing these,] Kalashi added before holding out her hand. Vixaya looked at it blankly for a moment before reaching out her own, into which Kalashi placed a pair of air filters. "[Take them, and be well out here, friend,]" She said in the vain of her old comrade.

"Ke'pita, Kalashi," Vixaya said again as she inserted the filters into her fake mask and shuffled away. Kalashi watched her for a while until she disappeared fully into the crowd, making a mental note to check in on the child soldier again, and often. It wasn't common to encounter such a mixture of violent history and naïve vulnerability, all wrapped up into one package.

---
​

Everywhere she went in Shadespear, Vixaya saw people in the midst of purposeful lives. Their eyes were focused, their movements were swift and determined. It was as if everyone knew where they were going or what they wanted except for her. She wondered if that was the honest truth of the matter. From the outside, how could anyone tell that she was aimlessly wandering? And if they couldn't tell, then perhaps there were others on this station who were just as lost as she was. For once, Vixaya felt as if she was overthinking things, rather than escaping into daydreams.

She entered another storefront to get away from the swarming shoppers, and found herself inside a parlor for tattoos and other body modifications. The room was long and narrow, containing a series of chairs which reclined all the way to flat, and at each station, a semi-skilled worker who may or may not have possessed a formal license stood by to provide their services with the help of specialized machines that looked like octopi suspended from the ceiling.

"Hey," a serek called out from one of the nearby stations, "come on in. You got an appointment, or just lookin' for information?"

Scrambling, Vixaya switched on her translator. "Sorry, uh, vok?" she replied. The serek repeated himself, a little testier the second time. Vixaya, now having understood the question, answered in English: "what is you do?"

The serek now rolled his eyes. Excusing himself from his customer, he swept across the room to a nearby desk, pulling out a card and handing it to Vixaya. It was the sort which had a scannable section that would download information onto a tablet, so she took out her own and pointed it at the card. Soon, she was swiping through a gallery of holograms which showed an amazing assortment of services supposedly available- everything from ear piercings to cybernetic neural bridges, installed at rock bottom prices. But just as she was about to get excited about the possibilities, one of the patrons near the back of the room suddenly cried out in pain with a bloodcurdling scream.

The octopus-looking device had been operating on the back of his neck, doing... something. It wasn't clear to Vixaya, who not only had taken a few steps backward toward the door, but had reflexively reached under her arm and grabbed hold of her pistol. The employee at the afflicted man's booth was now scrambling to pull his device away, as blood trickled down his customer's neck and dribbled onto the floor. Vixaya shook herself out of her panic and darted out of the exit. She had nearly reverted to her survival training at the provocation, and was lucky that the employees hadn't seen her reaching for a weapon.

Breathing slowly and allowing her heartrate to fall again, Vixaya decided she would return to the Reavers. She had done enough to individualize, at least for now. The one thing that bothered her was that when she had reached for her pistol, that cheap-feeling ballistic thing the humans had made, she couldn't help but wish she had something more familiar instead. On her way back to where she had started, she spotted another gun store, one of what seemed like dozens in this labyrinthine station, and stepped in.

The inside of the store was nearly as crowded as the outside. It had hundreds, or maybe thousands, of guns on display, all unloaded and locked in some fashion to the display racks. It was a high-volume affair, with some customers even buying weapons in bulk. A bright yellow droid wheeled itself up to Vixaya and, after quickly scanning her, greeted her with an enthusiastic "spaska!"

"S- spaska," Vixaya replied.

"[Can I help you locate a specific model? Or, I can help match you to a weapon that meets your needs. Just ask; my name is RC, and I'm happy to help!]"

Vixaya blinked. "[I want a VRI,]" she replied.

The droid's head flicked back and forth, as if looking over the store, before turning back to Vixaya. "[We have... 71... VRI... pistols for sale! Can I narrow that search down for you?]"

Another awkward pause followed. What did this droid mean? To Vixaya, a VRI was a VRI. There was no difference between the different ones she had encountered throughout her life on Spirra, although she was aware that the Black Fleet trotted out a new model every few decades. She was only familiar with the 415, but perhaps there were better models available. "[What... What do you think I should buy?]" she asked.

RC's head swiveled again, before the droid instructed Vixaya to follow. "[I think I have something you'll like!]" it announced, followed by a friendly little jingle. The robot whirred along on its wheels, leading the kanad through the crowded store to a display case near the actual sales counter. Inside the glass case, among numerous glittering and wonderful handguns from around the galaxy, was a VRI pistol unlike any Vixaya had seen before. It was slightly longer than a 415, heavier looking, and furnished in a menacing black and gold color scheme. She suddenly recognized what she was looking at, as if it were a treasure from a fable.

The droid spun around to face her, brightly announcing what she had already figured out for herself. "[On sale right now: VRI... 374... GK! Is this what you were looking for?]"

Vixaya nodded, stunned by what she was looking at. The 374/GK was an infamous gun back in Kosok space. Decades before, Kosok intelligence officers could obtain the special edition of the common 374 by special order, which would contain far more refined components. Almost none of them bothered, and after the fact they became a rare collector's item. During the war on Spirra, it was said that if any soldier came across one, the officers at the helm of the rebellion were willing to pay good money to have it- enough to buy ten regular VRI pistols.

"[Good! I'm calling over a sales representative now. Thank you!]" RC played another jingle before rolling away.

A moment later, a human seller stopped at the opposite side of the counter. "So, do you want to do this as a cash transaction, or do you want to pay in installments?" he said.

---
​

Outside the store, several minutes later, Vixaya sat down on a bench and simply stared at the incredible purchase she had made. Sure, it had taken all of the money she had, and she had to trade in the human pistol Drav had given her, and she had to agree to a payment scheme using a bank account she created on the net using false information (which she fully intended to abandon after her first payment), but there, in her hand, was the trophy of all trophies.

A slightly better version of the VRI-374. A dirt cheap plasma pistol dressed up in black and gold furnishings.

Suddenly, it occurred to her how stupid the purchase had been. She had thrown all of her money away on a gun that she was almost too afraid to use in real combat. She stuck it into her underarm holster and put her head into her hands. [Stupid, stupid, stupid!] Her buyer's remorse had caused a mixture of anger and self-loathing to bubble to the surface, but just barely. She twitched, hard, looked around to see who was watching, before climbing to her feet. All emotion disappeared from her face as she twitched again. She focused on her breathing until the feeling went away. [No more thoughts.]

She walked back toward where she came from. Her mind was as clean as a temple, and as quiet as a graveyard.

 

[Breadman]

Amy was looking at a deck of collector's cards while Vance was arguing. The cards themselves were a promotional item for an Ayr animation that had the holonet abuzz a few years ago before having a catastrophic finale. Now these cards were worthless due to the fickle nature of fandom, even if the art was alright on them.

Let's get out of here, shall we?

"Yeah lets." She nodded and led them outside the shop "Smooth negotiations in there. Really fitting for your look." She looked around the streets to see if there was anything else they could hit up "We can look around some more, try and find the others around here to check with them or go straight to where Valk is waiting and meet there. Where do you want to go?"

 

[Viper Actual]

Thinking about the questions Damien asked out loud made Nathalie recall the last time she had seen Barker; It had been during an assignment and she had been accompanied by three other operatives and a SSOID kill-team. Extremely high-value target. Back then Barker had been seated upstairs in the much more spacious office above with windows to observe everyone that passed. Back then the bottom room had been a stop for security officers taking a break on patrol. Not that it had been needed.

Because of his extremely cooperative nature and surprising talent of keeping silent Barker had been under protection of both local SSOID teams and ONI teams. Nathalie had always imagined that there mere most likely a handful of other intelligence agencies that valued Barker's continued well-being enough to protect his life.

This made the fire seem... out of place. Sure, the man was disgusting and sleazy but he wasn't stupid enough to risk his lifeblood. Nathalie had seen the figures the SSOID was paying him and hoenstly if the guy hadn't been so lazy he would probably have taken all his credits and settled down on Paraíso or some other beachside world.

Perhaps one of the agencies found out about him working for practically all the sides there is and decided to send a warning? Or maybe some criminal gang found out and tried to off him? Risky, but plausible.

"A topic for later. If we split up, it would make us look more suspicious and open to attack. Strength in numbers. We can just wander into the market and disappear into the crowds."

Nodding, Nathalie gestured towards the markets "As you wish. I have one final stop to make before go to wherever Valk is- I hope you don't mind accompanying me to another old contact." She glanced at Damien. "Though this one deals in weapons and gear. Also asks no questions."

The two of them moved on and with Nathalie's guidance the pair made their way past the main market area and out into the outskirts. A run-down building with barred windows and a large reinforced door stood in front of them. There was only a single sign above the door which identified the establishment as Asgard in bold letters.
Motioning for Damien to follow, Nathalie knocked on the door in a special sequence. A second later it opened, revealing a small space and another door. Upon entering the small airlock-like room the previous door was shut closed and locked itself.

A camera popped out from the wall and stared intensively at the two visitors with its lens rotating to and from. Once again Nathalie produced the coin from before and held it up for he camera to see. Satisfied, the camera retracted into the wall and the second door was unlocked.

Inside the main building was rather large room. It had plenty of warm and welcoming lights and consisted of a large L-shaped counter running along the far wall to the left of Damien and Nat as well as numerous reinforced display cases at the center of the room and alongside the walls. Both the counter and display cases were made of extremely fine and well-polished tree paired with golden details, symbols and engravings.

Standing behind the counter was a lone man. Tall and muscular, the man wore suit pants, a shirt with rolled up sleeves and a tie. His long blonde hair was in a single braid while his beard had been tied into two knots. Tattoos on his arms were of Valhallan origin, a nod to the Valhallans nordic heritage. Currently busy with cleaning a rather exotic-looking rifle the man looked up at Nat and Damien as he entered.

"Ah! Always a pleasure to serve law enforcement," said the owner, Hjalmar, with a wide smile. "What can I get you?"

Nathalie approached the counter. "I'm looking to browse weapons, gear and tech. Anything new really. It's been a while since I was here." Gesturing towards her gear Nathalie continued;
"My undercover gear could use an upgrade if you know what I mean."

Nodding Hjalmar set down the cleaning cloth on the counter and got to work. "One moment, I think I have some items you would like."

 

[joshuadim]

Leaving the atmosphere of the Rakeed's hoard was liberating in a way as Vance took a few deep breaths of slightly less toxic air fill his lungs. The relief on his face was visible as he observed the smart grenades for a moment before hosting their container under his arm to easier carrying. "Playing spy did teach me a couple tricks in acting, though I'm no Sean Connery or John Wayne. Legends the two of them are." Vance commented, as he looked around. "I have no interest in meeting this Nil. I'd rather let the pirates among us deal with that kind of ilk." he then spoke, "Though I am starving..."

He scanned the area for someplace to eat before noticing what appeared to be a small dumpling and noodle shop nearby. "Care for a bite?" he said as he pointed towards the restaurant.

 

[Breadman]

"Can eat anything right now." Amy answered with some relief in her voice "Haven't actually sat down and eaten anything the whole day." She motioned for Vance to lead the way to the shops. The menu seemed extensive enough to allow for some choice in the menu. Noodles with vegetables, fish filled dumplings and some sauce was all she needed.

"So..." She said between bites "You've done spy work too?"

 

[joshuadim]

"Enough for two lifetimes at this point." Vance replied as he looked at the menu, portion sizes in particular. The stir fry looked appetizing, as did the pork dumplings... but there were also soups available. After ordering two potions of the noodles and dumplings along with the largest bowl of soup he could get his hands on he began chowing down on his first serving of dumplings. "Most of it I regret doing. Whether it was for SSOID or for the States." he simply stated as he tore through one of the doughy capsules. "What about you? What did you do before you settled down with a family and all?"

 

[Breadman]

"Short answer. A lot." Amy said while putting a dumpling in the sauce "Actual answer...Mercenary work for a group called the Alpha sisters. You already saw that part there. After I got out, I worked with my brother and Valk in another company. I asked to go freelance shortly before the incident with Starvis happened and have been doing that sort of work mostly." She tried to avoid some details, although tempting to say most of them, her 'conversation' with Mora had already made him visibly uncomfortable. "I'm not sure how I managed to start a family looking back, but it just happened I guess." She shrugged "How about you? Any plans after we get through this?"

 

[Infab]

Lauren left the music shop as swiftly as she had entered it, tailing behind Shelby as she wandered through the market. She was searching for something, but was only stopping at known drug dealers in the market, before eventually locating the tunnel leading to a very special place. Fervor. A grin slowly inched across Lauren's face, as she watched from afar as Shelby entered the tunnel and emerge minutes later. Looks like our reporter needed some pep in her step. Her grin shifted to a wide smile, as she disappeared into the crowd when Shelby emerged from the tunnel with her prize.

And when Shelby proceeded into the market crowds once more, Lauren appeared at her side. "Hi there.~" she said, the wide smile still marking her face. "Saw you poking around a few of my favorite places... and then you visited the Valnax. I don't have to ask why. I do it whenever I'm here. But I do have a pair of questions for you, though." She eventually stepped around in front of Shelby, leaning in. "What's your poison, and do you mind sharing?"

​

Aesha Drach was a simple kind of girl. She didn't need much from here, beyond a stiff drink and maybe some gear here and there. A weapon would be nice. And she had made her selections from the various small shops and stalls while on the way through the market. A pristine GPAR-P2 Gauss Assault Rifle, modified with a reflex sight, extended magazines, and a hair trigger, was the weapon she had located. The GPAR was the weapon that the Federation was eyeing as to replace their current standard issue assault rifles and carbines, known as the M1A3 line of rifles. It surprised her that one of the weapons had found its way out here, and was in such good condition among Shadespear's endless line of crap.

The gear she had acquired? Thermobaric grenades, which she already had two of back on the Mordred. Thermobaric grenades were popular among the Upyri Marines, creating massive blasts using the air in an area as fuel. Great for eliminating hard targets, or just obliterating soft ones. She shoved the canister shaped grenades into a satchel on her back, and slung her new weapon onto her back as well as she walked. Where she was going was basically a ritual for her, and her being in disguise wasn't going to dissuade her from doing it.

Eventually, she arrived at her destination. A large billboard with numerous holoscreens attached to it. Here, travelers could keep an eye on the big races across the galaxy and place bets using the terminal nearby. She eyed each of the screens, inspecting what was currently being displayed, until eventually she found the one she wanted. Interstellar racing. It seemed the great Starblazer series was under way, everyone attempting to get a shot at the wondrous Platinum Cup which was awarded at the finish line on Nyx.

She folded her arms, watching the pair of hosts talk about where each race would be taking place this year along with a few other details. She herself was mentioned a few times, namely for the record she had set ten years prior during the difficult race on Kanadys. That was a fun one. She smirked at the memory, as the hosts moved on to who was currently likely to win it all. Then her smirk shifted to a frown. Sukono Mura, an Ayr racer. She and Sukono had an intense rivalry going back several years, and Sukono was the first to capitalize on Aesha getting banned from racing by breaking a record she held on Duroma.

Why her? Of all people. Aesha grumbled a bit, before shaking her head and strolling away from the billboard. She had better things to do than listen to them harp on how great Sukono was.

​

The three items presented before Nathalie weren't all that special, really. The first was a suit of Sol armor, which seemed to have been well maintained. Though still, it was just plain Sol combat armor. No frills, no extra protection, no modifications, nothing. Average, ordinary armor. The second item was a set of powered armor, which had seen some use from the looks of it. It had been cleaned a bit, but still bore the marks of kinetic impacts and laser/plasma burns. Somehow, it seemed like a worse choice than the regular armor. Power Armor wasn't exactly stealthy. It clanked and whined when turned on, unless you got one of the more high end models put out by some galactic factions or corporations.

The third item caught her attention, however. A gauntlet, but featuring a special hidden blade which popped out of the wrist. It could be swiveled around and used as a dagger as well, and slid back into its hiding spot effortlessly and quietly. It had seen some minor use as well, a few blood stains marking the blade and the inside of the gauntlet, but still seemed to be in great condition. And it would certainly fit her, due to her covert nature.