Futuristic Burning Sails [OPEN]

[Infab]

"... But why are you helping us? No one outside would do this for a pirate band."

"...I'm helping because Uric was my friend. And Valencia is my mother." responded Eve. There seemed to be genuine emotion in the statement, which was rather odd coming from an android.

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"...I'm helping because Uric was my friend. And Valencia is my mother."

For a brief moment, Typhon says nothing but hangs his head low.

"I see..." he mumbles. "I apologize, I did not know the matter was personal for you too." He pulls out a carton from his musky old coat. "Care for one? If you are able to, at least."

 

[Infab]

"Care for one? If you are able to, at least."

Eve shook her head. "I am unable to smoke. I appreciate the thought, however." she replies, motioning to her smooth, featureless face. She then motioned her hand towards Typhon's carton. "Is there a particular reason you smoke? It isn't often that I see doctors doing such a thing, considering what it causes, though immense stress or mental trauma tends to play the chief contributors to such an act."

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"Is there a particular reason you smoke? It isn't often that I see doctors doing such a thing, considering what it causes, though immense stress or mental trauma tends to play the chief contributors to such an act."

"I am a surgeon. I am looking over people whom constantly throw themselves at danger. That does not make my profession any easier." he robotically states. Typhon shakes his head a little and pulls off his helmet while taking out a cigarette for himself. "But, still, it seems like Valkyrie has more family than I thought... and more people that Anora had wronged." He exhales some smoke and sighs. "If only we felt this moved towards our own father, right?" he mutters sarcastically.

 

[Infab]

Before Eve could respond to Typhon, she felt Valkyrie tap her on the shoulder. She looked about to see that everyone was loading onto the ship. Heading towards the ramp were the last few members of those that were going. Roku was coming as well, clad in khaki shorts, a tropical shirt, and a white undershirt. He wasn't going with them, but instead returning to his usual duties. Piloting the Guillotine. Zadra was a bit difficult to disguise, thanks to her horns and buzz cut, so she simply changed into a different colored jumpsuit and put on a specially made helmet. It'd work, for the time being. She approached, slipping the large pipe wrench she had in hand onto her tool belt.

Drav approached, wearing an odd white colored set of gear and a helmet. Supposedly it was her own armor, but she never wore it. In hand, a large crate. "Drav sell at market. Gun parts." she said, as she boarded the Mordred. Strolling up the ramp behind the others. Eventually everyone was aboard, moving about the guts of the ship. The cargo bay was rather spacious now that all the crates and such had been moved out of it. Typhon moved to his position in the vessel's small medical bay, while Zadra moved towards the engine room. Aesha and Roku moved towards the bridge, with Valk in tow. Everyone else simply drifted to where they wished, or were needed.

The ramp slowly closed, after Lauren slapped the button inside the cargo bay to shut it. Once Aesha was seated in her seat, setting her shotgun down next to the controls, she began the startup procedure. It only took a minute or two. Routine stuff she had done dozens of times by now. And not five minutes later, the Mordred was ready for takeoff. Lifting off the landing pad and zipping up into the sky above.

Minutes passed, as the Mordred darted through the atmosphere towards the blackness of space. The Guillotine and several other Reaver ships slowly came into view, drifting in orbit above the oceanic world. The Alexandria, Slade's capital ship, was quite easy to see near the Guillotine. The long, needle like red ship facing away from the world in 'bug out' position. Chang's vessel was likely on the other side of the planet, drifting silently in the event something happened and the stealth battlecruiser was needed. The rest of the ships, ranging from frigates to cruisers to destroyers, moved about as they wished. Coming and going from Sielia's orbit.

The Mordred moved quickly towards the Guillotine, which was ready and waiting to go where needed. Once docked, the orders were given. Shadespear Terminal was the destination, but the Guillotine wouldn't be going straight there. It never did. Instead, it went to a random system close to the Terminal, and the Mordred went the rest of the way. Far safer that way.

Warp was engaged, after a short spool up period, and the Guillotine vanished from orbit. Its captain and crew heading for their rather important meeting.

​

Meanwhile...

Between The Rusty Keg & Mike's Gun Emporium
Shadespear Terminal


Lencho 'Lynch' Van Der Walt was not a patient man. Though he never claimed to be.

"I told you an hour ago that I would be here to collect. Now... do you have information on the Blackwells or not?" he said, looming over the one-eyed Kanad before him. The Kanad seemed to shrink even smaller than he already was compared to the large privateer captain, stepping back and pressing against the wall behind him. The fear on his face was visible even while half of it was covered with a breathing mask. "I-I told you, it would take time! Just a few more minutes! I swear! They have to forward the data to me!"

Lynch grunted, his clenched fist tightening. "Clock's ticking, Narstada. Five minutes. If you don't have it by then, I'm beating five thousand credits out of you." he soon said, a grin slowly inching across his scarred face. The Kanad winced, but soon sighed in relief when his holoband made a chirping noise. He quickly tapped it, his fingers moving quite quickly across the screen that appeared. "H-He came through. They're gonna be here on Shadespear shortly." he said, his one good eye darting about before looking up to Lynch.

Lynch's grin faded to a simple smile. "Good." he said, before turning about. As he moved towards the end of the short alleyway, he glanced back. "Keep this to yourself, Narstada. Or my boys might come looking for you. Mercy isn't their strong suit." Narstada nodded rapidly, giving the tall pirate captain a thumbs-up. He didn't plan on telling anyone anyway. He never squealed to anyone. It was a quick way to get killed.

As Lynch exited the alley into the expansive marketplace, he paused only for a moment to draw a cigar out of his coat. He slipped it between his lips, and promptly lit it with a large silver lighter he drew from another pocket. Once he returned the lighter to its resting place, he tapped the side of his head near his ear. "Alright, boys. Get ready. Blackwells are coming right to us."

 

[Breadman]

Once inside the Mordred, Amy didn't have much plans to do but wait for them to arrive to their destination. While on board, she explored a bit, trying to get a good idea of how it looked from the inside. Eventually she settled on sitting in the 'recreational area'. The bounty hunter tapped her holoband a few times to see if she got anything for messages, news or just about anything. A few more people had joined her growing list of now-former contacts, which prompted her to sigh. Thankfully it's nobody from Shadespear.

The news as always felt like a mistake to look at. The media was still going through its frenzy over the massacre, with pundits all over the place giving half-assed solutions to problems they became experts off in an afternoon while reading their intern's notes. Some others stood out.

Pirate fortress on Tortog cracks open after hundred day siege!- A sight of relief for anyone living in the border region between Sol and Upiry space as a joint operation between the Family and Boome marine mercenary groups ended today in decisive victory as the final pockets of pirate holdouts are being cleared out and the pirate leaders are either captured or killed. When reached out for comment, one Family member had this to say "These guys dug themselves deep...nearly sh[expletive] myself a few times trying to root them out. But we don't get paid to do nothing. They wanted this region pacified and they got us to do it. So we do it." When asked for future plans, he had this to say "We don't know. Whatever the bosses say. Maybe go to the Renegade quadrant or something."

Amy rolled her eyes. 'Great, more assholes they have to worry about. Maybe Seth could talk his brothers out of it?'

Praetorian Legion chairwoman Taylor Caine purchases Power Dynamics, intends full revival of the company and its brand.-In a surprising turn of events, Taylor Caine has announced her plans for the former arms manufacturing giant. A stable in the industry for decades, Power Dynamics fell out of the limelight after a series of manufacturing mishaps, design blunders and failure to renegotiate key contracts to stay afloat. However, PD's earlier models and innovations continued to be sought after and in demand long after the company went defunct. Expert speculate that Caine, a known user of said older models, is likely going to steer the company towards its golden era of manufacturing. Others are sceptical, citing concerns that it might be too much of a niche line of products.

'So that's why she was so busy.' Amy thought. 'Hope she turns it around. Those guns were pretty good quality at one point.'

Praetorian Legion mercenaries reportedly involved in elimination of criminal weapons trading ring on northeast border of Sol.-Another blow was dealt to the criminal elements along Sol's border as the Praetorian Legion raided multiple weapon caches belonging to Cobblestone family member Henry Cobblestone. While it is not clear who exactly hired the Praetorian Legion, current speculation points towards Sol or colony officials or possibly rival criminal organizations. The fallout has yet to be determined, but as of right now, Cobblestone influence in the region has weakened.

'Looks like business is booming too. Maybe they can get a seat at the table soon. '

Amy turned off the newsfeed for now. Better to just relax and not think about the bigger picture until they land and the work starts again.

 

[K0mori]

Aboard the Mordred once again, Vixaya found herself looking over the costumes adopted by all the other crew members around her. They had certainly made some interesting choices, although after seeing the diversity of life and culture on VOC-1, she wasn't concerned about the eccentricity around her. Really, they could wear anything and fit in; the goal was simply to be anyone but themselves. But one person caught her eye more than any other- Shelby. Vixaya had noticed the journalist before, but hadn't spoken to her much, if at all. The kanad didn't have much to say that she felt was important enough to share with such an apparently unencumbered spirit.

But this time was a bit different. Vixaya wasn't any more familiar with the gothic aesthetic than she was with any other niche human or otherwise "western" style thanks to her limited exposure to the world outside the Kosokom periphery, and the fashion statement of black and leather and heavy makeup was striking to say the least. She didn't find humans very attractive in general, with their flat faces and small, round ears, but now she had found an exception. She wanted to ask her, can you teach me to dress like you?

And then she remembered that she was a pirate on assignment, and decided the question was irrelevant at best, and stupid at worst.

Still, she had time to kill. Finding a quiet place to sit and taking out her tablet, she did a search for "shiny black clothes" on a Kosok shopping database. And then she searched for "pale skin heavy makeup tutorial" on a holovid sharing site. A long time after that, she hesitantly entered a search for "Shelby White," wanting to know more about her comrade. The search returned plenty of references to the attack on VOC-1, the Reavers, and their accomplices. But there was nothing else. It was almost as if Shelby had appeared out of thin air just before the attack. Vixaya was disappointed, but not entirely surprised. It was a big galaxy, after all, and her own name didn't turn up anything aside from the attack either, at least on networks outside of Kosokom.

At least she learned a new word in the human language: "goth." She suddenly realized that her own, naturally black hair might have a similarly striking affect among the kanads who knew her on Spirra. Perhaps she had been goth her whole life without knowing it. The thought hung in her head for a while.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja sits at one of the empty tables in the Cantina of the Mordred and just kind of twiddles her thumbs idly. Out of everyone here, she has probably has the least amount of social interactions to follow through on. These people had families and friends to talk to, contacts to make deals with. Katja had nothing, as a woman from a long bygone era, all the people she knew and those she loved were well past gone by now, her father, Ari, some of the other friends she had, hell she misses those two punks she beat out in the last ride of the old Volvo. Now... now she has no one, no people to call, no people to talk to. The Reavers are the only people she knows right now and even then she doesn't actually know them, they're all complete strangers. A sensation of emptiness washes over her, these people ARE complete strangers, and they're all criminals in some capacity regardless of the whole incident they're currently being blamed for.

And the aliens, she never once considered meeting aliens in her lifetime, but here she is, walking around with a broad variety of different races. How she wished she could tell people back home... home, it seems so foreign to her now. Earth is nothing of what it once was, and it's so far away, she feels like it doesn't even exist anymore. Just another hollow memory swirling her head. She grimaces and looks around the cantina and decides to do what she does best when bored, lonely, and depressed... drink. She goes over to the bar and locates herself a bottle of liquor, the label claims to be vodka but she's dubious as to if it's the genuine article, one way to find out. She doesn't bother with a glass, she just sits down and uncaps the bottle before taking a healthy gulp of it. Nope, not real vodka, or at least not quality vodka, it has a flavor and it's not an easy swallow. How she longs for the good stuff, it drank like water. Still, this will have to do. She sits there in a sullen mood as she takes drafts of the bottle, she knows she probably shouldn't be drinking on the job, but right now she just needs to numb her thoughts out.

 

[Infab]

The Mordred, originally, was a freighter. One of the Camelot series of freighter vessels produced by Cosmodyne, they had seen extensive use throughout the mid to late 2300s before being phased out for a newer series of freighters that were larger and better equipped. The Mordred itself had seen little use prior to the Reavers' purchase of the vessel during a visit to Duroma. It had sat quietly in a scrapyard for three decades, gathering dust and being battered by wind and sand, and before that, had been used as a raiding vessel by a smaller group of pirates whom all perished during a mercenary attack. The mercenaries sold the ship off for cash, the ship was cleaned up a bit, before eventually being sent to the scrapyard when nobody would buy it. And then Valk came along, and everything else was history.

The three decks of the Mordred were pretty easy to differentiate between. The lower deck was where the large cargo bay and medical bay sat. The middle deck was where you would find the bridge, the central hall, a lounge area for recreational activities, the armory, the turret shaft which connected the top and bottom turrets, and the engine room. The third deck, up top, was where the crew quarters were. In total, it could house around forty people, two to a room. There was a communal shower and restroom as well on the third deck, but it wasn't used all that often as one could just visit the showers or bathrooms on the Guillotine. Lastly, there was a room for the captain of the vessel. Slightly larger than the other rooms, and featuring a private bathroom and weapons locker.

The Guillotine made its stop in the chosen system, after bouncing around the southern half of the Renegade Quadrant, which was a quiet little location with a pair of binary blue stars and two lifeless planets. The Mordred launched without fanfare, departing from the capital ship and darting off into space with those that intended to go to Shadespear. It'd take about three hours to jump to Shadespear from where they were, so it was just a matter of killing time for the moment. Once the Mordred had jumped to warp, the crew went about doing what they wished.

​

Alone. An all too familiar position that Lauren found herself in. Alone in her room, sitting on her bed and staring up at the wall. Its probably for the best, right? Nobody wanted to be around a dumb drunk. Especially a loud one. Hell, the little Kanad had run off when she tried to talk to her before. Roku made damn sure he could get away from her. Typhon had bitched at her for drinking in the first place.

Well, it was one of only a handful of things she could do to have fun.

She slowly pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she rested her chin on her knees. Nobody liked her. Well, beyond Pearl, but she was more like a sister than anything. And she was usually off with Taur somewhere doing things. Zadra complained about her doing pretty much anything. Roku was scared of everyone. Aesha only hung out with her because she was 'the boss's daughter'. Drav was... Drav. Damien didn't give two shits about her, and her own mother didn't seem to either. At least beyond making sure she was still alive from time to time. And her father... well... he was gone now. No chance of him making up for abandoning her all those years ago.

None of these new guys seemed to like her much. But that was fine. They didn't have to. She had grown up without friends, so she'd continue right on living without them. And most of these newbies would probably get killed along the way.

Lauren hugged her legs tighter. Why was she like this? Was it the booze making her think about this shit? Eventually, she turned and laid down on her side on the cot. Tears rolling down her face and staining the sheets.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Shelby never thought he would be excited to go on a pirate journey, but the costumes sure helped. Even the weight of his new gun had a certain thrill to it, a sort of forbidden danger that he had never experienced before. At the academy they had shot a small variety of weapons for basic marksmanship, a side class that was integral to the curriculum, which he had never had much interest in. It was much like the other activity classes that were somewhat pointless to him, outside their purpose to, on paper, "further develop the natural advanced capabilities of affluent children." Like horse back riding on the beach, or fencing. Tennis was good cardio but it sometimes took up valuable gymnastics time, and several mandatory games took up the time allocation for ballet. He was rather sour about that still.

The others had turned out quite well, it seemed to him, though he didn't really know any of them so seeing new clothes on them wasn't a very big step in changing their unfamiliarity past an acquaintance level. Some he had spoken to quite bit, others were a little more distant. Like the little kanad, Vixaya. Shelby was quite adept at knowing when people were looking at him, something he had developed over a lifetime of public and private performance. Even under a disguise when he went into public, it seemed like there were always those who had an idea of who he was. An entourage didn't particularly help, admittedly. So the few looks he caught from Vixaya made him a little nervous, but he offered an amicable wave to them when the chance arose, though they had disappeared somewhere and he couldn't find them after they boarded the vessel and departed.

He took a brief glance around the ship, noting the communal showers with a dubious glare, a hurdle he would hopefully not have to tackle any time soon. Last time he had been in one was for a risque photo-shoot to show off a season of new swimwear before they took things to the beach. The digi-issue was probably still on shelves. Moving on, he made for the lounge, wondering who else would be there.

His haste, driven on by his ambient excitement building up within him, sent him nearly careening into Eve who was also on their way into the lounge. Shelby skidded to a stop and stared up at the synthetic woman's blank face, his own reflected back. "H-Hi," he gulped, rubbing his arm. "Didn't mean to a-almost knock you over. Er, I mean, probably I would have fallen over, you seem very strong, so I mean to say sorry I almost walked into you. Miss... Eve, right?"

 

[Infab]

"H-Hi," he gulped, rubbing his arm. "Didn't mean to a-almost knock you over. Er, I mean, probably I would have fallen over, you seem very strong, so I mean to say sorry I almost walked into you. Miss... Eve, right?"

Eve looked down at Shelby, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Yes, my name is Eve. And it's quite alright, Shelby. My frame is quite sturdy, thanks to the modifications I've made over time. You likely would have fallen over had you collided with me." she replied, her tone a bit upbeat. "But you seem rather graceful on your feet, so I'm sure you would have stopped yourself before you hit the floor."

She glanced up, before looking back to Shelby. "...We haven't really spoken to one another much, have we?" In truth, they hadn't. Eve really hadn't spoke to any of the group beyond Typhon. Maybe it was time to rub elbows? "Shall we talk? I'm sure you're curious about me like some of the others are. I'm certainly curious about you."

​

As Katja quietly drowned her sorrows in watered down vodka, a presence was soon felt near her at the table. It was Damien, whom glanced down towards her. Mainly towards the bottle in her hand. "Shouldn't be drinking. Could spoil your disguise later." he said, his eyes moving between the bottle and Katja's face.

 

[SniperComZero]

"Six months ago, the end of the Tayosk Offensive forced the Aviead Liberation Front to pull back and give ground to Sol troops." [The feed cuts to footage, primarily taken from the perspective of ALF soldiers in intense, frontline combat over mountainous, arid terrain. Most of the equipment used by the ALF soldiers is a mish-mash of equipment from all over the galaxy. Some of it is equipment that had been given to the TNPDF by Sol. Some of it is old Creed equipment, likely older than many of its operators, restored for use in war and painted up in the ALF's royal blue. Even more still, is civilian or hand-crafted equipment pressed into service by the ALF.] "Since, an uneasy ceasefire has formed between the two, as both sides have, behind the front lines, been gearing up for a new phase of the conflict, attracting mercenary groups from all corners of the galaxy to fight for either side."

[There's a cut to a town situated along a highway as the crew drive away from a checkpoint. It's deserted of any civilian life, with the small side streets instead packed to the brim with APCs, military trucks and tanks, many of which being opened up and maintained. The sidewalks are littered with boxes piled on top of more boxes, and soldiers sorting through them. Shop windows are covered up with boards and filled by bags of sand, while their insides hum with generator lighting.] "This used to be a town of around a thousand people, situated twenty kilometers away from the main operating center for forces in this region." [The camera pans into a sign. (20KM ^ FORT VITALE NO TRESPASSING) The area beneath the blue name of the fort appears as though it were scratched out. Behind the sign, the barrels of massive surface-to-space cannons, some in working order, and others missing up to half their length, point into the sky.] "Shortly after the civil war started, the people of the town were put out of their homes, and the town turned into a forward outpost."

"You know, whatever those uh, those Earth propagandists say, I personally take no great joy whenever I, ah, kill, a Sol soldier." "Lieutenant Leonas Roland, an ex-officer of the Terra Nova PDF prior to the Riyallah Uprising four years ago." "They're people, the same as you, or me. But I can't feel any sadness, either. Not when they're willing to be working for a terrorist state." "And how does Sol act as a terrorist state?" "Well, just go to any of their cities and look around. Oppression, surveillance, while they destroy our self-made institutions, and supplant them with their own. I think their end goal is that they want to control all of humanity. And some people are blind to that. And, and just look, at how they punish the people who stand up to them. Don't get me wrong, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone here who had much love for the Divinity Creed. Their 'faith' killed my parents, and I know that I'm not some, uh, some sort of edge, fringe case. It was... it was hard, to grow up in. But, even then, Sol, trying to 'liberate' us. They glass a whole planet, and how many innocent, otherwise well-meaning people just get... erased? Hundreds of thousands? Millions?"

"The truth is that the ALF is a terrorist organization. We know that they are in contact with outside terrorist groups, we know that they arm terrorist groups on Terra Nova itself, and we will not negotiate with them, because they are a terrorist group." "Captain-General Johann al-Rais, the current commander of the Sol Expeditionary Marines on Terra Nova." "If you look, you know, three months ago. The Silverhead Road attacks, five hundred people dead, and the ALF take responsibility for it."

"No, no. We are not the terrorists, here. We are freedom fighters. A terrorist attacks civilian targets to strike fear into the populace. What we do is strike at tactical and strategic military targets to weaken and dissuade our enemies." [The camera cuts as the crew is led down past the motor pool and into one of the town's cellars, all of its walls lined with rows upon rows of olive green cabinets. Leonas opened one of them up, the shelves filled to the brim with metal cubes, each maybe as large as a football. All of them have a small, copperish plaque on the front.] "All of these are... the ashes of, the uh... the soldiers, whose bodies we recovered. There are probably... five hundred of these boxes, at this base alone. The idea was that we would give these to their families once the war was over, but... whether they still have family here, or we'll ever get to send them at all...? God, I just don't know."

[The scene once again cuts to the outside, with the motor pool in the background, and an arid flatland behind it. Of particular note are two APCs, both with sand-scarred, battered ALF paintjobs. One is adorned with the Orthodox Cross on its front, whilst the other has the star and crescent painted on its side.] "Do you think that the renewed mercenary interest in this region will be, beneficial, for your cause?" "...I'm hesitant about them. Very hesitant. A... all of the soldiers that I know, we are all patriots, you know? We are all willing to lay down our lives for our freedom. But mercenaries? They don't fight for any greater power, they don't fight for any honor, or to protect anyone. They clench their weapons so that they can then clench their money. And if our money runs out, or those dogs from Earth give them a better offer... then what?"

"Yes, we know that the public has concerns about the use of paramilitary groups by us, but we can assure that any groups that we do hire, and that are put on the ground on Terra Nova, will be held up to the same standard that any marine unit would be." "So then why would Sol not be committing more troops to the area, rather than hire mercenary groups?" "The... decision, was made from Terra. It would be beneficial for us to free up some of our logistic, bureaucratic and officer resources here to focus on help that the rest of the sector needs." [Amateur-shot footage is shown of caskets in the dozens, all draped in the flag of the Sol Systems Government, being loaded onto freighters.]

"Do you think life will ever return to normal?" "God no. Not for me, or anyone here. My, ah. My children, they play in the burnt out husks of tanks, use shell casings as toys... you know... maybe they won't have normal lives either. I don't know. But I'm fighting so that their children can."

"Of course it can. But for that to happen, we need the support of the populace, in order to set up new institutions that can rebuild the planet, and set it back on the right track for--"

- - - - - - - - - -
​

Olivia stopped the video, and put her tablet face down on the table. What a bunch of bu~ull shit. With a long, drawn out sigh, she pulled her beret down over her face, groaning whilst kicking her feet up onto the table.

Honestly, she was kinda dying for a smoke. But drills trained her well enough that smoking inside a spaceship... probably not the best of ideas. And if that's on military vessels, where all that shit's got the most primo, up-to-snuff filtering and maintenance, then on a pirate ship...? Yeah. She'd rather try and pace herself. Maybe try getting one when she's down on Shadespear.

Couldn't really help the thoughts passing over her, though. How much of the whole mess in the galactic east was her fault... what she could've-- should've, done to stop it all blowing up and making a mess of fucking everything. Honestly, least of which being her own life.

...Fucking god, she needed a smoke.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Shelby relaxed slightly, somewhat surprised at how polite Eve was. He was starting to find that a lot of the pirates weren't very pirate-like from what he had seen on the net and from films. Or maybe he had just gotten really lucky. There was a sort of quaint liberation in their free-spirited nature that avoided the cruelty he had feared. "A-Ah, thanks. I do try to keep nimble. You know, like, uh... exercise. And stuff," he chuckled, somewhat bashful. He followed her into the lounge and joined her at a seat, glancing over some of the others already present - and drinking. Now that seemed pretty typical for pirates. Though he couldn't exactly point very many fingers. While he didn't drink, there were other substances that were more enticing.

"Um... so you wanted to talk? I don't know what I can say. I mean - my articles, you know, probably not super well known. The galaxy is a big place. Even if a million people read them daily it's all, like, you know. Not likely to run into one of those people at random."

 

[Infab]

"Um... so you wanted to talk? I don't know what I can say. I mean - my articles, you know, probably not super well known. The galaxy is a big place. Even if a million people read them daily it's all, like, you know. Not likely to run into one of those people at random."

"Indeed. Publishing your articles in the dark underbelly of the starnet would only draw a small, but loyal, following." said Eve, getting comfortable in her seat at the table. She quietly reached into her fancy cloak, drawing out a small white card. It looked much like a calling card, small and rectangular but featuring fancy gold etching around the edges. On the back, a picture of a black masquerade mask.

She held it between her fingers for a brief moment, looking the oddly half blank card over as she casually held it up to look it over. "But, of course... as all followings do, the numbers will grow larger. The more famous someone gets, the larger their following grows, and the more news springs up related to them. With what happened on VOC-1, at least how Anora's lot framed it, I'm sure your following has exploded in size."

She then held out the card to Shelby, motioning for him to take it. "I like to follow the news, among other things. Following what's going on across the galaxy, both on the front page of news sites, in the news tickers, and even on the dark parts of the starnet." she said, still maintaining her upbeat tone. "So you could say I'm a big fan of your occupation."

As Shelby took the card, they would notice that writing had appeared on the formerly blank side of the card. Script font, of just a certain size. Large enough to be legible, and tinted a lovely shade of purple. 'I know who you are, Shelby du Pont. Titan of Starpop. But you've nothing to fear from me, as I do not wish to expose you in any way. As a Black Mask, I handle sensitive information quite often. You have a friend in me, should you need one while out here. I only wish to help.'

After a few moments, the writing faded to nothingness. As if it had never been written on at all.

 

[Breadman]

Feeling a bit alone, Amy got up from her seat and decided to take a walk around the ship again. If she was going to work with these people, she should know more about them. Roge and Vance were the only ones besides Valk's family that she talked with. Vix didn't seem like she wanted to talk much after their initial conversation from two weeks ago. Kalashi didn't seem to either. As she walked through the ship, she entered the bar where Damien was talking with the new girl on the block. The one that was found floating in space a while ago.

"Got through cryo sickness to drink yet?"

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja looks at Damien from the bottle she's halfway through by this point, her eyes a bit glassy from the inebriation as she mutters, "Painu helvettiin..." She takes another swig and rubs her face before grimacing and setting the bottle aside, she's already getting tipsy, she should stop before she's unable to walk under her own power. She looks at Amy who arrived shortly after Damien, "Not so much cryosickness as cryo-brain-damage." Given her outfit, the only bits of her strange tattoos that can be seen is around her hips where there is a sort of "window" formed by the low asymmetrical hug of her pants and the high cut of the leotard's sides. They lack their usual shimmer, it's as if someone completely snuffed out the lightshow they usually are, clearly a side effect of her being drunk.

She sighs and stands up, capping the vodka bottle and putting it on the bartop rather than the shelf, she'll finish that bottle later if she makes it back from Shadespear in one piece. She opts to grab a small bottle of seltzer out of the minifridge, probably there to make mixers of course, and fishes through what she assumes is the "snack" cabinet before grabbing a package of what the label claims to be salted peanuts before sitting down and hesitantly cracking both items open to try and dilute the booze in her system with food and water, "Is there something either of you wanted, or are you here to just gawk at the melted popsicle woman pickling her brain to make up for the fact that it's got a bit of freezer burn on it?"

 

[Breadman]

Is there something either of you wanted, or are you here to just gawk at the melted popsicle woman pickling her brain to make up for the fact that it's got a bit of freezer burn on it?

"You're gonna need a lot more than that." Amy looked at the bottle "You need Khergian brew for that." She sat down without even bothering to check if the bar stool was clean or not. If there were stains left over, they'd work for the disguise. "But I don't see any here, so we have that on the shopping list too."

 

[joshuadim]

Being back on the Mordred gave a feeling of unease to Vance as he walked about the ship to pass the time as they made their way to their destination. It was a constant reminder, to him, of what had transpired on VOC-1: failure. He tried to take his mind off it with other thoughts but his mind was fixated on disparaging himself with what-ifs and could-haves. As he walked into the cantina of the ship, he was looking for someone, anyone to talk to so he could get his mind off things at the moment. As he walked into the canteen he saw that Olivia was sitting by herself in her own bout of misery. He remembered when she had offered him a smoke back after VOC-1 transpired, and so he decided he would repay the favor.

He walked over to her with a soft wave of his hand: "Hey. Suppose you wouldn't mind someone joining you?" he asked in a friendly manner. "I do owe you for the smoke back then after all."

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja shrugs, "I've tasted better paint thinner than whatever that bottle of 'vodka' came off as." She rolls her left shoulder a bit as she feels it hitch slightly on her, then sighs, "Look, I don't really have anything to say so if you're expecting scintillating conversation... you're in for disappointment." She pops a handful of peanuts into her mouth and crunches them with a grimace before forcing a swallow, "Ugh, even these peanuts don't taste right, either the brain damage fucked up my sense of taste or the quality of food in this century took a nosedive."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Shelby took the out-stretched card with both hands, not at all unfamiliar with the concept of business cards but somewhat surprised that the synthetic woman had one and was going to give him one. Then, of course, he realized he was a journalist so that was a fairly typical thing. "Well, I'm glad you like journalism, it is something of a dying art...." his voice trailed off as he glanced down at the sudden appearance of writing, his eyes darting over the lines. Now this was a fancy card if it was using an interface, and -

Something between the approximation of a squeak and a sigh escaped his lips as the words registered in his mind, his eyes darting to hastily read them over again. A hard lump formed in his throat, his skin going cold as a peculiar hyper-awareness overcame him in these unexpected tense situations, his eyes dilating as if he was on intoxicants. There was a great deal to process in such a limited few seconds. Not only did she know who he was, but the name Black Mask stuck out again, tripping a mental sensor that introduced hazy, scattered memories of rumors concerning the shadowy organization. He had never been included in such conversations, but words sometimes carry on the wind, and the name and the almost feared reverence they were spoken with remained in his mind.

"H-How.... how did you...." He gently sat the card down as the words printed on it completely disappeared. The others in the bar were caught up in their own little conversations or miseries, and Shelby couldn't quite lift his gaze up from the table to even look at Eve.

 

[SniperComZero]

For fuck sakes, who's trying to get at her now-- Olivia grabbed the beret off of her face as it's, uhhh. Big man. ...Vince? Something like that. She pursed her lips, before setting her feet back down onto the floor. And taking her coat off to sling over the back of the chair. That shit's heavy. "Sssshhhuuure." Olivia still seemed a little unconvinced, but it's not like he was gonna... assault her, or anything. Probably. He didn't seem the type-- or, at least. Much less the type than half the other chucklefucks she's working with.

"You have anything particular in mind you wanted to talk about, or...?"

 

[joshuadim]

Vance took a seat across from Olivia and set the trilby he is temporarily using onto the table before setting his hands onto the surface. "Well, you just looked a bit down on your mood. Thought I could come and maybe lighten the mood maybe?" he asked with a chuckle. The offer was serious, although he masked it with some lighthearted small talk. "Something on your mind?"

 

[SniperComZero]

Olivia's hand ran up her opposite bicep as her eyebrow quirked up, just a little. "Huh? Oh... uh-- nah, Nothin' important, anyways. Just tired. Been a rough couple of weeks, y'know? Say." Her hand came off of the shoulder, and onto her cheek, right as her elbow planted itself into the table. "Where'd you ever say you were from, anyway? Don't uh, think we ever got to talk much."

 

[joshuadim]

Vance observed Olivia as she spoke about 'nothing important' on her mind. Given her demeanor, it felt to Vance as though she wasn't being entirely forthcoming, but he wouldn't press on the matter. When asked the question he simple shrugged: "Would you like the short version or the long story? We have the time for either it seems." Vance asked rather bluntly as he looked straight at her.

 

[Breadman]

"Eugh, don't eat that stuff." Amy made a disgusted face when she looked at the packet of peanuts Katja sourced her food from and recognized the brand "Bozako bought out the rights to supply snack food for everything outside of Sol space a century ago and we've been paying the price ever since."

"Even with the monopoly intervention, they still get first dibs at stuffing every colony they can with food meant for farm-stock."