Futuristic Space Antics: The Revival

[Moldie]

Ark 1 - Prologue
A long lost advanced nuclear core was uncovered in the depths of Joyce mere days ago. It’s glitchy transmitter was quick to start sending rogue signals. The one who'd found it ran through the underground tunnels, trying their best to escape with the priceless piece of technology. Unfortunately for them, they lost their grip. The last they saw of the core was it’s disappearance into the darkest depths of the city. Soon all major factions in the settled world were on the hunt, all determined to claim the power of the core for themselves. Hot in pursuit was it’s creators, the government.

It might be hard envisioning the happening without knowing about where it all took place. The city of Joyce, where another unlikely squad soon assembled to join the race. It’s the true haven of criminal activity in the universe, housing both the dirt poor and filthy rich, aliens and humans, factory workers and drug dealers and those who simply can't be profiled. Papa Grey, a local big time drug cartel boss is now looking to assemble his own team, paying immense wealth for the one who brings him the core.


Aoeda Le’Essa
Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

Aoeda strolled through stagnant air of low ground Joyce, breaking the low lying dims with her slim boots. Warm spalts of light from the setting sun sifted through the overlying rails hitting the bleached pavement down under. She walked by the feet of towering buildings seemingly never ending. Figures stood by the structures avoiding the path of light, paying her no more than the slightest side eye as she passed by. She too passed them carelessly. A glitchy GPGS monitor hung from an overpass above. It displayed a woman reeling through the days news summary.

“... in other news military operations on Sophronia were successful after a secondary raid on the terrorist organization Lug’ Mahal's headquarters near the Jurta region. Suspicions of their accumulation of Teasium have now been confirmed and further raids around the region will commence in hopes of...”

Soon the sound of it was drowned out as a train blasted by on the railing above. Aoeda quickly glared up at the mute broadcast. She found herself uninterested, knowing it was propaganda anyway. The stream of news always pouring in was just another way for the government to inspire conformity in what they wanted the people to see as a empire on the rise.

Unlit signs protruded out of the walls of the alleyway, soon to be illuminated in the wake of night. It wasn’t the nicest neighbourhood, not even for Eastbound standards. Aoeda approached a large sheet of spray painted metal fixed to a wall. After inspecting it for a short while she made rhythmic knock upon it. As she did the feeble metal scrambled and a deep echoe followed. Suddenly the sheet rolled up with a few hicks, revealing the darkness behind. In front of her was now a thick metal grate and a small dirty counter. A figure stepped out of the gloom, but only their waist was visible as darkness still spread over their upper body. Without a word spoken a hefty hand slid upon the figures side of the counter, and as it was removed a small plastic bag filled with a black powder remained. “Algorian, fiver.”, his voice was deep and rumbled softly. Aoeda looked with big eyes on the bag before swiftly swiping it. She pinched in between her vibrant yellow fingernails and scanned it carefully. “Use it while it’s fresh.” His demotivated tone once again said. “God bless you” Aoeda replied as she slid a small silver coin in between the bars of rusty metal."Couldn't have been easy getting your hands on this kinda spice...", “Yeah, whatever you say. You owe us…”, as she was entranced by the substance she paid no mind to his last comment. Her focus was abruptly crushed as with a hiss the sheet crashed down onto the counter again.

After the inspection she didn’t just slide the small bag down the pocket of her jacket, but in an even smaller compartment within it. Just as she was about to wander off a familiar tone emanated from her earpiece. She drew her telecom and by the caller ID being blocked she instantly knew who it was. She looked a bit disheartened at first, but picked up with a sigh. “What?” she said trying to sound a slightly bit annoyed. “It’s LaDainian. Boss wants you here like, ASAP.” “Yeah? Why?”, Aoeda was sceptical even after years of work with these people. “Uhh, look, we got a job but bring a few people with you.. That, uhhhh…”, LaDanian seemed preoccupied by something, as if he was talking to someone else at the same time as her. "You know it's my day off, LaDanian." She sounded further annoyed. “Look, Just get here soon, alright? Bring a few useful helpers along, Yeah? Great.”, "Hey, wait-". A continual beep from her earpiece cut her off. A bit stunned by the abrupt conversation Aoeda still stood on the sidewalk, not really sure what to do with the information she’d just been given.

Sandagaden OnyxMule Joel Hessel

 

[OnyxMule]

Fozat "Scales" Almaar
Customs Control, Joyce Spaceport, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

Scales’ boots clamped the hard metal floor beneath him as he approached the customs with decisiveness. A long line containing a mixed variety of sapients was formed as usual. Scales walked past them and approached a booth marked as '2-B<' with a sign emitting green light. A young man with a buzzcut wearing the clothes of a customs guard left an interrogation room on the right, together with a grumpy-looking bigguburu. The young man waved him off, and the bigguburu headed toward the spaceport exit. He then approached the booth in which Scales was waiting.
“ID,” he said coldly, looking down on his pad.
Scales walked into the scanners and handed him a small card that the man inserted into his pad.
“Alright… Mr. Almaar, you know what’s up. Please follow me into the interr-”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Scales interrupted just as the scanners confirmed that he was good with a pleasant ding.
“Excuse me?” the guardsman looked astonished.
“I will not follow you into the interrogation room, young sir. I’m in a bit of a hurry and I would prefer it if you could ask your questions right here right now instead.”
“The questions will be asked in the interrogation room an-”
“No they won’t,” Scales interrupted again. The young guard’s eyes narrowed. He was about to open his mouth to say something when Scales continued. “Listen here kid, you see that star marking on my classification? If you don’t ask your beloved questions here and let me through without taking me to the interrogation room, you’re going to get in trouble. I don’t fully understand what you’d want to ask me, but I’m open for a little get-to-know-each-other round if that’s what you want.”
The guard looked very agitated by this unusual backtalking.
“Are you threatening me?” he growled, his hand reaching for his petty sidearm. Even if Scales were to be shot by him there and then, no damage would be made to him. The gun was likely a glorified taser.
“No, I’m simply stating facts based on-”
“Let him through,” a rough authoritarian voice rumbled from an office behind the young man. The voice belonged to a large-grown bald man, sporting a heavy brown moustache. The young guard looked with respect at his supervisor and immediately let Scales pass through.
“Welcome to Joyce, Mr. Almaar.”
Scales walked past him with sure steps.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” the moustached man said before he waved the young guard to him. Scales nodded with respect in response. “Damned stubborn interns,” he thought to himself as he left the scene and headed toward the spaceport exit.

 

[Joel Hessel]

Astin Colemin
Lower levels of Joyce - Evening​

Astin stumbled out of the door, almost loosing his balance. The young man was a wretched sight to behold. Underneath the usually attentive and watchful blue eyes sat large dark bags, a sign that he'd gotten next to no sleep the past days. He was walking down a small alleyway in the lower level of Joyce, one of those places where no usual person born of the working- or upper class would ever dare to venture. A small grey duffelbag hung over his left shoulder and he was struggling to keep it from sliding off. He tried to hurry as best as he could, he was guessing he would be a target since he was dressed as an officer of the not so popular police department. But his appearance wasn't without abnormailty. The right arm of his coat had been folded in and tied into a tight knot, revealing that the man was missing his arm. The painkillers helped but the phantom pain kept him from ever relaxing. It had passed three weeks since the incident and Astin was still chocked when he, from time to time, realized that the limb was no longer there. He made his way up towards the distant sound of the railway. He had to leave the planet. Even though he officially was dead he couldn't guarantee that the governments facial recognition software wouldn't spot him through the cameras scattered around the city. The light from the billboards casted a bleak light on the weak figure as he tracked his way through the streets. About half an hour passed before he arrived at the railway. He walked up a flight of stairs until he was standing on the plattform. There was a mass of people waiting to get aboard the regular commute home from work and Astin had to push himself through the crowd in order to get to on of the many PCC-pillars*. After some effort of digging round his pockets with non-dominant hand he managed to get a hold of some triangular shaped coin-like objects. He put two bronze colored into the machine which began to buzz, a screen lighting up moments later. Astin disconnected a small device from his ear-piece and plugged it in to the PCC and the pillar let out a small beep. Astin tapped the screen where it said [Contact Authorities], and began dialing a government service line. A few quick signals later and the line was open.
"This is the Department of Police Offices, what can I help you with?" said an exaggerated sweet female voice.
"I'm looking for Astin Colemin, badge nummer #83342. May I speak with him please?"
"Just a moment!" said the woman who seemed unaffected by the callers dreadfully tired and rasping voice. A moment passed before woman returned.
"I'm..." She started. "I'm very sorry to inform you sir but Astin is no longer with us.". "He passed away a few weeks ago, in an accident" There was a silent pause. "Are you a friend of his? Family?" Astin stood quiet. "Hello, Sir? Are you there?". The thundering sound of the train arriving drowned the womans voice.
Astin hung up and boarded the train.
It worked. He thought.



*PCC-Pillars: Public Communication Centrals. A futuristic version of a payphone, able to contact similar units or other compatible tech both globally or interplanetary.

 

[Sandagaden]

Luna Von Heartfrieed
Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening
​

The bell jingled as the door opened and a seemingly slender figure walked in and the bar fell silent.
- Look! fresh meat!
The words had erupted from a fat and foul looking man. His tongue graced upon his dried lips and he took a sip from his drink.
- Don’t be shy babe, shouted another.
She slithered into one of the less crowded parts of the bar and sat down at a lone table.
The waiter approached her with a colorful drink which he calmly put on the table and then pointed towards one of the boys in the crowd.
She caught his eye and teasingly started taking of her coat.
The lad in red stood up with a smile. But sat down just as quick for her knife had violently been impaled into the wooden table.
Her jacket came off and she raised her glass, took a gulp and swallowed. She caught his eye yet again and for a split second she smiled. The crowd cheered and the man in red was just about to stand up again when she started unfolding her crossbow. She gave him a piercing look before tucking it away again. As she lit a cigarette the chatting reestablished, some foreign music came on and time kept ticking.

 

[Moldie]

Aoeda Le’Essa
Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

Aoeda was to say the least, agitated. It wasn’t in her greater interest to spend her day tracking down accomplices for another job. The people of Joyce, and especially those in her community were notoriously hard to deal with. The kind of people always looking to up their cut, no matter what it takes. She continued down the alleyway and soon she emerged on a larger street vertical to the slender one she'd just left. A few vehicles whizzed by on the read, blowing up discarded papers and other trash. She drew her telecom and navigated through a list of contacts. As she scrolled through it she soon realized how limited her options were. Eventually a promising one came along, and with a swift swipe she was connecting under a hidden ID. They picked up, “Hey it’s Aoe-”, She was instantly rejected. She looked down upon the emanating glass tablet with resent in her gaze, “Motherfucker”. Instantly she dropped down the list. The story was repeated. Over and over again. She was just about to give up but soon beamed into light as it seemed her chance finally came around, “Yo Madara, I got a job-”. Aoeda heard a simple, slightly distorted sigh on the other side of the call. “Don’t you “Yo Madara” me. No no no, you know what? I got a fucking job for you. How about you stroll your snowbird, two-faced ass down here and pay your fucking debt huh? Yeah? Cause you’ve been owing me for months now, and you don’t wa-” Aoeda hung up in her immeasurable disappointment, the true shot down came when she realized that Madara was the last viable contact on the list.

She seemed oblivious to what Madara had told her, or rather yelled at her. She continued to walk aimlessly down the street walk with an aggrieved expression plastered onto her face, now truly without any idea on what to do next. Night was coming, and the cities neon self would be brought to life. Men and women of the night would soon replace the dirty miners and factory workers barely holding on to consciousness after many hours of elbow grease. Her time was coming. She refused going to some old run down merc hall, chances are she’d be treated as she had been over the phone but more in the sense of having a third of her body being replaced with lead anyway. As one might imagine Papa’s workers do usurp a rather large portion of work around the region. "I need a god damn drink...".

 

[OnyxMule]

Fozat "Scales" Almaar
Black Quarter, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

The stench of rot entrenched Scales’ nostrils. He scraped the floor with his boots, stirring up the filthy particles on the floor into the air, and accidentally scaring away a family of dungrats. He found himself in a dark and quiet alleyway, the only apparent source of light being that of street lamps far away in the distance. The quarter in which he was located was known as the Black Quarter. The name was given due to its total lack of connection to the Joyce Powergrid, therefore the streets are close to pitch black. The quarter used to be connected to the grid, but a severely faulty wire caused the wires to combust. The damage was never successfully repaired.
Being a sppantian, Scales was able to find his way in the dark. He carefully made his way into an alleyway and down a set of stairs next to a building. Having descended, he found himself standing next to a blank brick wall. Well, almost blank. One area was made out of a different material. Solid metal. The area on the wall was roughly the size of a door, though it lacked a handle. He reached out his hand to touch it, then smelled his fingers. It wasn’t just any metal. It was lead. Scales knocked at the metal systematically. Twice. Once. Then twice again. Silence embraced him once again, but then the door let out a slight screech and slid open. He entered. It was slightly brighter in the room he entered. In front of him hanged a long drape from the wall, made from a material that seemingly absorbed almost all of the light from the room behind it.
He pushed himself through the drape, coming out on the other side to find… A laboratory?
In the laboratory stood a red veralian, wearing a tight white and green scientist’s coat. The coat had a stitched in tag, marked MiFO, short for Mimiariq Field Operator.
“Most welcome, Temp DeFault-23. Scales,” the scientist said, putting down an instrument resembling like one of those instruments ear doctors use when you have otitis. On the counter in front of the scientist lay a dead dungrat.
“Assuming you’re Field Operator Prank-14, I’ve got your package,” Scales responded and took out from his pocket what looked like a ball the size of an apple, wrapped in a layer of metallic paper. In fact, the wrapped object had been referred to as “The Apple”. He threw it to the scientist.
“Please, call me Patan.” he said as he caught the ball with his four-fingered hand. He unwrapped the ball and started to search for something in his drawers.
“How did you get all this equipment down here undetected?” Scales asked, while fingering on a microscope.
“Not me. Temps and contacts. Small number of trusted individuals. Paid of course. Mimiariq has their ways.” Patan switched to searching under the piles of papers on his desk.
“Well, what are you using it for? Dissecting rats?” Scales asked, putting back an unmarked vial that he almost dropped to the floor containing a green radiant liquid.
“Yes, partly. Am a pathologist. Researching plagues carried by dungrats. Mostly harmless, some quite nasty. Also looking for ways to improve immune systems. Dungrats notorious for their resistance to pathogens.” Patan looked up at Scales and smiled contently as he pulled a sharp and pointy instrument, much resembling a metal pen, from under the many papers on his desk. “Would of course prefer human subjects, but ethically problematic.” He eagerly grabbed the Apple with one hand and inserted the tool in a small hole on the surface of it with the other. He twisted the tool and the Apple opened up, revealing something inside. Scales couldn’t really make out what it was.
“What is it, what are you going to use that thing for?” Scales asked curiously.
“Not sure yet. Will see. Will help though,” he answered as he put on rubber gloves and handled the object carefully. He held it up to the light, as if to see if it was real. “Yes,” he uttered while studying it.
“Payment is due. Agreed sum will be transferred,” Patan said as he put the object down and pressed some buttons on his OPAT. “There. Thanks. Must work now. Good journey.”
“Yeah, good luck with… Whatever,” Scales said and turned around. He then stopped in his steps and turned his head back to Patan. “One last thing, do you know a good place where I can get a drink here?” Patan had already started to study the Apple using some kind of goggles with magnifying glasses.
“Not my area of expertise. Heard good about the Skewered Matron though. Apparently in contact with The Groove.” Scales turned to the exit again, walked through the drape and back into darkness. “Perfect,” he thought, and headed to the bar.

 

[Joel Hessel]

Astin Colemin
Bad parts of Joyce - Evening​

"I need an Aprico G-56 rifle with thee magazines, two boxes of 87mm round with sewhalt* tips, a Feltic* 4.9 scope, an OPAT and a..."
Astin was cut off.
"Woah woah woah... slow down there pal, you know what you're asking of me right?"
Astin stood in an shoddy alleyway, in a part of Joyce that's not far away from where he previously had worked undercover. The large Bigguburu male looked with concern at the, comparably small human in front of him.
"Astin" he said. "We've known each other for a long time now, you know that I wanna help ya out. But this is military grade..." He paused and gave the young man a heartfelt look. "There is to much heat... I get it." Astin said with a disappointed tone. He gestured with his left (and only hand) and turned and started walking away.
"Wait!" exclaimed the large blue figure. Astin stopped.
"I can't help you, but if you need guns, gear or some quick cash you might wanna seek out some work" he continued. "Go to the Skewered Matron, I'll get your name out there." Astin smiled.
"Thanks Bhesog! You're a real life savior." Bhesog looked at the young man.
"I don't know what you've gotten yourself into Astin... Your arm, the secrecy." Astin opened his mouth to respond but he stopped as Bhesog held up his large hand to silence him.
"Just.." He paused. "Don't die".
"I'll try."
Astin left the poorly lit alley with the Skewered Matron as his new destination.




*se Mineraler
* Feltic is a manufacture of weapon attachments. Famous for their sights, suppressors and foregrips they're dominating that branch of the weapon trade.

 

[Moldie]

Aoeda LeEssa
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

Aoeda was getting a bit tired. Something a bit foreign to her given the time of day, and the fact that she’d been face down in bed till she remembered her “appointment”. It was bit early for her to do Lag or any other “energizing” substance, she didn’t wanna knock herself out like last time. As she walked down the street she bundled up her fiercely tangerine colored hair and used an black elastic band to tie it up in a tail. She passed all manners of people and aliens, it wasn’t anything like central but Springway did house a formidable amount of this and that. Here too railing ran high above, trains darted back and forth over the many lines countless of meters up in the haze of the city. To her side stalls laid where vendors profusely advertised to the passing crowds, often with little luck. Like fly traps they had their small establishments decked with bright lighting and alluring visuals. A few entertainers boosted the facade too. Most of these parts were lit by neon signs and street lamps due to larger bridges and scrapers blocking all natural light looking for a way in. Few vehicles passed in the area, as it was a hassle many found not worth working through.

The architecture of the place was dynamic, often changing in level causing steps and platforms to have been erected all over the place. Upon a slight change of ground laid a shoddy establishment, a bar. “The Skewered Matron” large glowing letters shouted to the world from upon the weathered hold. Aoeda looked at the sign for a good few seconds, “Might as well…”. Its windows were tainted and partially covered up with flyers and signs. As she approached the door she was met by even more neonic letters telling her that the bar was indeed open. She pushed the door open and was greeted with a sharp jingle. A few lit canes hung from the ceiling and the floor was covered in a matt grayened of filth. It wasn’t the finest but neither the worst she’d seen. She could get a few glimpses of the bar on the other side of a smaller mass of people. She tried her best to make her way through without to much disturbance but a bit of pushing and plowing was unavoidable. A seemingly gluttonous man sat upon a stool within the mass, a mans whose filth ridden hand she swiftly had to swipe away as she passed. She arrived at the long table in front of long rows of shelves adorned with bottles covering the whole spectrum of color. Smoothly a man slid over the counter to in front of her, his expression was calm and numb but it said all it had to. “Anything KaJeiju.” Aoeda said and pointed towards a general section of the menu. As the bartender left to prepare her order she looked around the dim room. A few booths dotted the outskirts of the bar. They were mostly barren but in the darkness a bright, pure white mass stood out. After a few seconds she made out a figure. It caught her interest. She hadn’t noticed the glass that’d been placed before here. It was bulky with only a swig of warm, honey colored liquor in it. She raised the glass to herself, and with a quick swipe it was gone, followed by a light burn of the throat.

 

[Sandagaden]

The ice in her drink had since long dispersed. She brought up her phone, but quickly put it back in her pocket.
Luna had been ignoring calls and messages for a couple of days now.
To be completely honest, she was very content with the idea of having successfully escaped from perhaps the most unpleasant parent a child could ever hope to get associated with.

She drank a little more from her drink, she was starting to get tipsy. But to her comfort she wasn’t quite there yet. She didn’t actually go to the bar to get wasted, having spent most of her pocket money on food. There was actually no way she could afford drinks. No, the bar was currently her hideout. She guessed that this probably wouldn’t be the first place her dad’s henchmen would come looking for her. Because if they were in fact found in a bar during working hours, she hoped they’d get fired.

Paranoid as a 21 year old girl can be, she begun glancing at people around the bar just to make sure nobody was actively watching her. A bit relieved she took yet another sip from her glass, but something happened in that moment that made her hastily put it down on the table again. Her phone was vibrating like crazy in her pocket. She stuck her hand down into her coat, and when she felt her fingers grasping the now vibrating phone she quickly brought it within her vision. The screen was glitching, and somebody’s avatar was laughing at her.
She was stricken with terror, for her phone being hacked could only mean one thing.
Her dad was done playing around.



She was just done packing her things when the doors burst open, and three men holding military grade weapons dashed into the bar.

Yeah, we’re looking for a white haired girl, shouted one of the henchmen.
The tallest of the three spoke with a deep and intimidating voice.

- There’s a pretty hefty bounty on that white haired damsel.

The abysmally foul looking man pointed towards the table where Luna previously had been sitting. But a white haired girl was nowhere to be seen.
Meanwhile Luna had taken the unforeseen commotion as a way to slither into the women's restrooms. She rushed into one of the basins while reloading the crossbow praying that they wouldn’t find her.
She’d rather die than to see her spiteful father’s face again.

 

[OnyxMule]

Fozat "Scales" Almaar
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening
​

Mild music seeped out the door of the Skewered Matron. He recognized the music as lineolatan, but he couldn’t make out a single word that was sung. He had left the darkness of the Black Quarter behind him about fifteen minutes earlier, and melted in with the busy people on Eastbound Isle. The long road had led to his destination, the bar. Letting out a pleased sigh, he entered the bar. The sweet sound of a barasac, a lineolatan brass instrument equivalent to a saxophone mixed with bagpipes, embraced him upon entrance. He was pleased to see so many people there, but something wasn’t quite right. Three men holding high-tier weapons were seemingly scanning the room from by the bar, fairly close to the entrance where Scales was stood. The sight of them shook his newfound joy. “Bounty hunters,” he thought to himself. He was disgusted by them. The difference between a bounty hunter and a freelancing merc according to Scales is the bounty hunter’s lack of moral and abundance of blood on their hands.
“A white-haired girl, have you seen her or not?” one of the men asked the bartender while fingering his heavy pistol. He looked quite intimidated by the three. He stutteringly tried to answer the question.
“I- uh… I’m… Sh-”
“I’d like to order a drink and quite frankly, you’re in my way. Do you mind?” Scales interrupted from behind the three. They turned to him with surprise.
“We’re looking for a young girl. White-haired. Seen her?” another one of them asked, seemingly more reasonable than the previous one.
“Nope, think I would remember something like that. Especially in a place like this. Right?” he said and glared at the bartender.
“Ri- *cough*, right,” the bartender agreed, looking a bit relieved.
“So are you going to keep this man from serving me a drink any further? Or would you kindly stop looking where there is clearly nothing to be found?”
“Aren’t you a clever sod? Maybe your smart ass is hiding something, huh?” the first thug pushed himself toward Scales in an attempt to intimidate, with his armor bumping into Scales’ unarmored chest. Scales calmly looked up into the eyes of the thug who reached a head higher than him.
“You’re starting to get on my nerves,” he answered, clenching his fist.
“Come on Max, we’re not here for him,” the other one intervened.
“He’s not worth it,” the third, who had kept quiet during the entire scene, added. “Let’s get out of here. She clearly isn’t here.”
The tall thug looked intensely into Scales’ eyes, before he backed up and left the bar, with the other two close behind him.
“That was… Thank you.” The barkeeper sounded relieved. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll try the Spice Surprise,” Scales answered, sitting down on one of the stools by the counter. His blissful joy was coming back in conjunction with the thugs leaving.
“On the house,” the bartender said and took up a bottle with a red and yellow etiquette depicting a bottle on fire, and started to mix a drink.

 

[Joel Hessel]

Astin Colemin​

The first of the three men shoved Astins to the side as the trio exited the bar. Astin turned around, clearly offended and gestured with his hand and fingers. The gesture, an interstellar and multi-species way to say "fuck off", didn't seem to bother the three large and armed men. Astin walked into the bar and was met by the sound of lineolatan music and the smell of liquor and sweat, something that he felt was quite welcome after the lonely and dark weeks underground. He looked over at the bartender who was currently serving a Sppantian male who was seated at the counter. The bartender acknowledged Astin with a small nod and the lean young man took a seat in the far corner of the room. If it was one thing he had learn from his time in the police force, especially as a sharpshooter, it was that the greatest advantage a person could have was to have his or hers back clear of threats. A few of the bar guests had turned their heads as the one armed man had walked through the room but as he sat down it didn't seem that any of them bothered anymore. "I guess I'll find out if Bhesog has any contacts here".

 

[Moldie]

Aoeda had closely watched the interaction. She was rather impressed with the scaled alien, whoms race wasn’t one she was familiar with in person. This was the type of people she was looking for, assertive and hard. He was just a slight bit further up the row of bar stools then her. She skated her finger around the lining of the empty glass in front of her. She realized what he had ordered, the Spice Surprise. “Absolute madman...”, Aoeda thought to herself as she stopped her finger dead in its track. After side eying the alien for a few more seconds she briskly stood up, and slid herself over to the seat next to the lizard like man. She with her back to the counter, not looking at him. “Looking to do some work?”.

 

[OnyxMule]

Fozat "Scales" Almaar
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening
​

Scales was used to being approached by contractors in bars, but this time he was caught a bit off guard, as he had just started to relax. The bartender had slid the glass to him from the other side of the counter and Scales was now tracing the circular shape of the top of the glass with his middle finger. His eyes were fixed on the slightly yellow-tinted fluid in his glass.
“Nope,” he said as an answer to the red-haired woman’s question, grabbed the glass and took a swig. “Not really, but I guess it depends on what you have in mind.” He had come to the bar to relax, to get some rest, not to get another contract. This potential change of course bothered him, but he couldn’t just turn her down without hearing what she had to say.

 

[Moldie]

Aoeda LeEssa
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

Aoeda was pleased he wanted to hear her out, but soon remembered not even she knew what work she was actually talking about. LaDanian had been unusually secretive meaning the job might be of importance, something big given Papas league. She didn’t want to be a leak, yet she had to take her chances. “Big work, not some small fry merc shit.” Aoeda turned her leer towards the man, now inspecting him at this closer range. She tried to keep her calm in front of her potential colleague, although she was thoroughly impressed by his wholesome taste of the Spice Surprise.

 

[OnyxMule]

Fozat "Scales" Almaar
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening
​

Big work. That’s cryptic talk for a job that doesn’t include something in the likes of fetching someone’s runaway son, or worse, dog. It seemed to be something secret enough that she couldn’t talk about it here in public. That’s good. By this point Scales’ interest had been piqued, but some questions remained before he was willing to commit to anything. He fully turned his head towards her.
“Big is good, but what services do you want me to provide for what payment? Will I be flying, Will I be shot at, et cetera. What will I be doing for you?” he asked her, downing the rest of the liquid in his glass.

 

[Moldie]

Aoeda LeEssa
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

Aoeda watched drink disappear with a sculp, directly meeting his eyes when he put it back down. She gave him the slightest grin, “Oh you won’t be working for me. I’m sure both me and Grey can squeeze some use out of you though.” She said in a partially carefree tone. Her grin morphed into a full smile. Her attention had been fully caught by the prospect of his proposed role of flying, a trait most always useful in one way or another. “He’ll fill you in”.

 

[OnyxMule]

Fozat "Scales" Almaar
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening
​

“Grey, huh?” This was definitely something he’d like to hear. Although Scales had limited his activity of questionable legality in Joyce, Grey was a name that was impossible to avoid hearing. This was a promise of good pay, that’s for sure. It would probably not be a job that would conflict with his association to the Iluriam Mob either, since they operate much too far away from each other.
“Well, I could definitely hear him out on what he is offering,” Scales proposed and licked his lips. The drink hadn’t been much of a spice surprise, it had comfortably slid down his throat. The alcohol however, was notable, though a glass wasn’t enough to affect him. Getting drunk wasn’t why he had come here anyway.
“You wouldn’t have to squeeze very hard for me to be useful either.”
He noticed a coated man who was missing one of his arms who had entered. He seemed to be struggling with keeping his bag on his shoulder. Lost the arm recently maybe? If not he would surely have placed the strap on the other shoulder. He turned to the woman next to him again and dropped his focus from off the one-armed man.

 

[Moldie]

Aoeda LeEssa
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening
​

Her smile remained, she was pleased with the result. “That’s what I like to hear” she said in a motivated tone, still trying to keep a relatively low profile. Suddenly she felt a muffled vibration through the pocket of her jacket. She with ease slid the device out her pocket, “LaDanian…”. “It’s LaDaysch, boss wanted me to tip you on a recent client of ours, former pork or sometin’ like that. Astin Colemin. Guy only got one arm, dark hair, lil’ beard and that’s bout what we got. Guy seems solid. By our account he’s somewhere down deep, might be hard to find.”. Aoeda brushed off the message as she rolled her eyes, as if she had time to go underground on another manhunt. As her eyes left her phone she was met by a new addition to the crowd, a man. He looked a bit rugged, had dark flowing hair, some stubb over his lips as well as his chin and most prominently seemed to be missing an arm. It took her a few seconds to connect the dots, but soon it all aligned. Her eyes widened, she was beyond surprised. Perhaps it was an elaborate prank? It couldn’t, this seemed too big for joking around. It wasn’t often Grey himself commended workers. Aoeda leaned closer to her new “friend”, she discreetly pointed towards the struggling man “Is he with you?”.

 

[OnyxMule]

Fozat "Scales" Almaar
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

Scales traced the woman’s gaze with his own. His eyes landed on the coated one-armed man.
“Who, the one-armed bandit?” he said and let out a slight chuckle. “No no, I work alone. Why?” Though he realized that there was something with the guy’s bearing. He must’ve had some kind of disciplinal training. Military? “That would explain the arm I guess,” he thought to himself. If he really was trained by military, he must have left duty, maybe retired or deserted. A soldier wouldn’t be finding himself in a shady place like this while on leave.

 

[Moldie]

Aoeda LeEssa
The Skewered Matron, Springway, Eastbound Isle, Joyce, Ostillion - Evening​

Aoeda looked down on her phone again. The message was gone. Incendiary, like all communication with Greys associates. She put the phone back down her deep pocket. Her eyes homed in on the incomplete figure, “we're getting him with us, for good measure.” Aoeda assertively exclaimed. She understood why one would doubt his abilities, she did herself. Recent loss of a limb tends to have that effect. But Papa Grey wasn’t one to throw names around for no reason.

 

[Sandagaden]

Luna was breathing rapidly. She kept thinking “any second now” as she aimed towards the door.
But nobody came. She had been anticipating someone to burst in by now. As time kept ticking she kept wondering why they hadn’t come in here yet. There’s no way nobody in the bar hadn’t seen her.
She strode over to the door, and opened it slightly. Luna peeped and looked for any of the baddies, but couldn’t see them.

- Fuck it

She was tired of waiting. She unfolded her crossbow because she didn’t want to grab unnecessary attention. Instead she reached into her pockets and brought out a super reflective black sphere that she kept hidden in her hand.
She put on the hood of her coat to hide her hair and then she opened the door and stepped on out.
She started strolling towards the exit, breathing as slowly as she possibly could.
Her hands were shaking slightly, and she started picking up the pace.
Suddenly quickening footsteps galloped towards her, and before she was able to recover from the shock. Something heavy collided with her.

- Hey I found her!

Someone with pale blue skin had tackled her, and now layed heavy on top of her. She was completely immobilized. Luna’s distress caused her to press really hard on the sphere in her hand. The sphere disintegrated with a loud bang and from it came a disappointingly small cloud of black smoke. The smell of burnt oatmeal, filled the bar and suddenly the automatic fire alarm was on.


- What the actual fuck, Luna cried.

The obnoxious sound of:

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP filled the bar.

And to her horror, the door burst open and yet again the henchmen entered.

But this time, they brought some friends.

 

[Moldie]

Her eyes were still fixed to the man on the other side of the bar. She didn’t notice the hooded girl sneakily trying to slither away until the screaming had already commenced. Aoeda saw the figure as she was tackled by the the large blue nugget of a man and was slightly startled by surprise. Instantly she was alerted. A small puff of smoke dispersed into the already slightly dim air like a fart in space, soon followed by the alarms excessive shouting. The door burst open and posse of three had extended to a full five, perhaps they’d been having a smoke break outside and were quick to act. Aoeda saw the situation spiral in her head, and her hand steadily gravitated towards the revolver holstered her jackets inner pocket. “Not now…”

 

[Joel Hessel]

Astin Colemin
The Skewered Matron​

The lean figure was tackled to the ground and instants later Astin had sprung to his feet. He cirkeled around the room, keeping his back against the wall at all times. He spotted a woman at the bar who had her eyes fixated at the scene played out before her and Astin noticed that her hand slowly but steadily made her way towards what Astin guessed to be a holster hidden inside her jacket. He had now snuck up behind the group of five armed men and positioned himself close to the door, diagonally from the man furthest back who might have been tasked with covering their six but obviously had gotten distracted by the sudden violence. Astin looked the woman at the bar, trying to pierce through the intense atmosphere in an attempt to make eye contact. Just seconds later the two found each others gaze from amidst the wall of mercs. "Hope you're on the same page as I am" Astin though, hoping he could convey the same message with his eyes. After a brief second of hesitation he dashed forward towards the closest merc and kicked, His feet connected with the side of the mans kneecap that, with an ominous snap, broke. Total chaos spread through the room.

 

[OnyxMule]

Scales watched as the scene played out. The white-haired girl hit the floor with a thud, a large blue man pinning her down. A bigguburu. She was utterly pinned to the floor. Then there was the bounty hunters that had left a couple of minutes ago, now back with two additional thugs. The girl on the floor fit the description of who the bounty hunters had been looking for the first time, when Scales made them leave. This meant he was in trouble too this time.
“Shit.”
Something happened that split the bounty hunters’ attention though. The one-armed man had snuck up behind one of them and apparently bust the thug’s kneecap. He had fallen to the floor, moaning with pain. That was it. Realizing he was unarmed, Scales decisively moved in towards the two struggling on the floor and swiftly kicked the blue man straight in the ribs. He heard the air leave his lungs. His grip loosened while he was wheezing for air. Scales grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him to the side with all his strength. If it was a human he would have sent him flying, but bigguburu’s aren’t the kind that leaves the ground very easily. In a matter of seconds he had freed the girl.
Behind him, one of the bounty hunters was in the move to strike him in the back with the butt of his gun. With merely a couple of centimeters left to impact, Scales swiftly moved to the side and turned around. The thug’s arm was caught by Scales’ right arm while Scales’ left arm grabbed the thug by his throat. His eyes rapidly scanned the man, and the next he knew he had kicked him in the liver, where his armor seemed to be lacking. The thug’s knees weakened, and he would have fell if it wasn’t for Scales reeling him in to a choke hold, with the thug’s back against Scales’ chest and a pair of arms wrapped around his throat. Scales had placed himself and the thug between the white-haired girl and the rest of the bounty hunters, who now seemed to be surrounded by both an alien and a cripple.

 

[Moldie]

Now that both of Aoedas potential accomplices had entangled themselves deeply within the fight she was in a position to aid. Her eyes had connected with Astins, it was as if the contracts had been signed already then. She moved closely behind her scaled friend with her hand on the marble handle of her gun, with her other clasping hard to a colored bottle she'd swiped off the back of the counter. Aoeda moved quietly in the outskirts of the fight. The thugs were all distracted by the two men resisting their attacks. The bigguburu laid wheezing on the floor about no more than a meter from the scene. She was impressed with the contribution of both the men.

Two of the men bearing rifles were aiming at the lizard like man, but they seemed unable to line up their shot in the tempest of it all. Aoeda found herself behind the pair of unknowing thugs. With a hefty swing the bottled made contact with one of their heads, and to her surprise it didn’t break. With a blank thud the man crashed unconscious onto the dirty floorboards. Directly after she drew her gun with a swift action, now holding it pointblank against the seconds man strained neck. “That’s enough, fights over.”, She had the gut to flash the slightest grin. For a quick moment the man started lowering his weapon, but as if in an instant he was able to use his rifle to butt her revolver out of her hand. Before she had time to react something hit her straight in the face and she dropped backwards, blood poured out her nose. As she looked up she was met by a self good expression and the menacing eye of a barrel.