If you're a returning member, no, your account has not been deleted, we've actually changed board since you were last here. just go ahead and register, PM one of the staff, let us know you're here, and we'll get right to work converting your information and post count from the old board. Keep in mind that any RPs running on the old site are probably still there, so if you don't see them here, just check the 'Home' Page, and follow the link back to the old board. |
| Pandora's Box; No blue people allowed. | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 29 2011, 02:10 PM (3,710 Views) | |
| ~RipTheJacker~ | Jan 29 2011, 02:10 PM Post #1 |
|
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
((Sorry I didn’t get this posted yesterday like I said I would, my laptop went whacko and I spent the entire night falling asleep in front of my computer while it fought viciously against the Trojans.)) The setting sun left an orange hue on the city of Marona. Ships flew through the clouds as people hurried across the streets and into buildings below. A younger man with a thick brown mustache pulled on his white gloves after dusting off his suit. He took quick long strides through the city until he reached a tall bronze tinted building. “Good evening, Luciola,” an older man in a security suit stood to greet him; his belly shook slightly as he rose. “Going up to the old bat?” he laughed. Luciola ignored him, making his way to the elevator. “Well…” The chair made a sound of near agony as the guard plopped down into it again. The lift chimed once for each of the twenty floors on the way to the top of the tall building, till at least he reached the twenty first floor. The lift slowed to a halt and the door pulled open with a hiss. Amber light poured into the lift and Luciola stepped off, the doors closing behind him. “Well,” he spoke into the low light nervously. “I delivered your message.” “And?” “And they’ve agreed to broadcast it.” “Then why are you here?” “Well…” he took a deep breath. “They’re skeptical. They don’t think you have the money.” There was no reply, only a barely audible laugh from an armchair across the room. “Luciola,” “Yes, Ma’am?” “Tea.” “Yes, Ma’am.” The room was left silent for some time as the servant busied himself in the kitchen. An old woman sat at the window. Her face was gaunt and ashen, framed by thick white curls. She stared down at the blanket on her lap, playing with the tassels with bony fingers. “How many do you expect will show up?” The woman jumped slightly at the servant’s appearance. She gave him an empty smile and took the cup from his silver tray, resting it on her lap. “Too many I imagine.” She held the cup to her lips, gingerly testing the temperature. “Are you sure you should have offered so many accommodations?” the servant sat in a nearby chair, now looking more like a visiting friend than a butler. “Oh, I know I have, but I can afford it; even more so when they retrieve the capsule.” “You should have just offered a reward.” “I expect for the amount the reward is they will need compensation for repairs; I’m willing to offer that. It’s a dangerous outing, and I don’t expect them to be clean players, considering our demographic.” “You’re too generous for your own good…” the butler gave her a worried look.The woman sighed and took a silent sip of tea. “Some of those smugglers are dangerously rich.” Luciola growled. “Yes, but it’s restricted space, and dangerous at that. There’s no way I could retrieve the capsule legally.” “But you’re paying for fuel, repairs, stipends, as well as offering a hefty reward!” He sat back in his chair. “You’re going overboard.” She glared at him over her cup of tea. “I will only pay for sixty applicants,” She was now sitting up with a hand gripping the arm of the chair, staring at him fiercely. “This will be such a financial benefit for me; it would undoubtedly pay for this expedition tenfold and be a large profit for my company.” “I still feel it’s an unwise move!” Luciola was now sitting forward in his chair too. “I employed you to make me tea, not to tell me how to run my company!” She sat back in her chair, uncommonly pale now. “It won’t be long before it’s all over, and if the capsule is not retrieved, I will at least die doing something…” The room was covered in dark now that the sun had set. “You’re getting much more like a friend than a butler.” She laughed. “I might fire you for that.” ~~~~~~ The ringing sounds of explosions shook the room, beakers and other various tools fell from the shelves in an orchestra of shattering glass and clanging metal. A small girl with a tear streaked face sat huddled under a desk in the corner pressing the head of her limp ragdoll to her mouth. The lights flickered with the explosions; a prelude to something far worse. “No matter what happens, you stay in there, and when it’s quiet again you run!” a scientist knelt before the desk, head bent below the surface so he could look her in the eye. “You must give it to me,” He said in a comforting but stern voice. The little girl clutched her rag doll even tighter than before and shook her head ferociously. “Please…” He reached out and gently put his hand on the back of the doll, pulling at it slowly. “Please, give me the doll.” His voice was now lowered to a whisper. Her grip loosened, but her tears were flowing faster than ever. She gave out a quiet wail as the scientist pried the doll from her as gingerly as he could. The world around them grew eerily quiet, and the girl closed her eyes as tight as she could. The scientists mumbled silently under the breath as they worked, hoping that they would be done in time. There was a loud hiss, a sharp crack, then a sigh of relief filled the room. It didn’t matter what happened next, their job was done. The room shook once more with the sickening sound of twisting metal, gun shots, screams, smashing glass. The desk lurched and the girl shrieked loudly as her hiding place was now gone. She looked up, hardly able to see through her tears. She squinted, only to make out the shape of a gun barrel between her eyes. ~~~~~~ Josephine woke with a start. Light filled the room, blinding her momentarily. Luciola had pulled the curtains. She pushed herself into a sitting position, muttering curses under her breath at the butler. “You told me not to let you sleep past nine.” He said sympathetically. “You’ll kill an old woman that way!” She grunted harshly. “I need all the sleep I can get, I’m not getting younger, you know!” She snatched the cane he held out for her and shot him a look of utter hate. “Well, they’re here early,” Luciola began, only to be interrupted by the old woman. “Well, tell them to leave and come back another time. I’m 79 years old, you hear! 79!” She jabbed at his thigh with her cane. She walked to the door, clearly too agile to need the cane at all. Luciola followed after her frantically. “They’re in the sitting room, ma’am! You can’t go out there in your pajamas!” She turned and gave him a sour look. “I’ll wear whatever the hell I want. If they’re going to come so damn early, they can stand to see me in my altogethers for all I care!” Luciola winced, she was now shouting loud enough for her visitors to hear; no doubt on purpose. He looked at her pleadingly. “…Grab my robe.” She conceded. “You have my full support on this, but I still don’t understand why you’re doing it.” Luciola held out a fluffy white robe for Josephine. “How do you even know it’s there in the first place?” Josephine’s face softened a little. “I just know.” She started to pull her robe over her pajamas and sighed. “70 years ago,” she began. “Valhalla was peaceful and beautiful.” “I know.” Luciola interrupted her reverie. “They found a cure for Shillings Disease. Victoria and Carmen put their war aside to take the cure because Vahalla refused to share it. They wiped Valhalla out and never found the drug.” He put a gloved hand on Josephine’s back. “You recite this nearly every day. I don’t know why it means so much to you.” She smiled at him and tied the knot on her robe. “I don’t know how I haven’t fired you for cheek yet.” She let out a sad laugh and left the room. She tossed her cane on the coffee table as she strode across the room. She sat in her arm chair and stared at the two men on the couch before her. The shifted anxiously in their seats and shot each other nervous glances. She continued to stare, waiting for one of them to talk. Cautiously the one opened his mouth and spoke. “We put your add out on the market.” “So?” Josephine crossed her legs and stared down her long nose at him. “Well we’ve had some interest,” “A lot of interest!” added the second man. “Well, we still need the numbers to your account to give out the stipends.” “I told you Luciola would be handling that.” She sounded indignant now. Luciola sat down in the chair next to her, once again shedding his servant like appearance. “I have accounts set up with all the money we’ll need. My employer feels more comfortable that I handle her finances than you.” Luciola also crossed his legs as if imitating Josephine. “Yes well, Michlin has a list of applicants for you to review.” He held out a hand and his assistant placed a folder into it. He opened the folder and pulled out thick stack of paper. “May I suggest you investigate them thoroughly? Some of these crews are more likely to steal your cargo for themselves.” He slid the papers across the coffee table towards Josephine. “Luciola will contact them.” She ignored the papers on the table. “If you’d like to watch, be at the docking bay in Bellingham at 5am this Friday.” She stood up and fussed at the knot on her robe. “Luciola, show our men to the door.” |
![]() |
|
| ~Alissa~ | Feb 5 2011, 05:08 PM Post #2 |
![]() ![]()
|
((very long intro post... ) The Persephone had been a large secure cargo vessel used by a successful chemical company in years past, this meant that the ship was fairly well armed and armored, enough to repel the odd attack from privateers. Its current owner and captain had acquired the ship as part of a settlement, payment for the destroyed life of his home planet. Some additions had been made, magnetic grapples had been added to allow the ship to pull along side wrecks and the like for starters. Currently the ship was pulled along side a derelict deep space station, several haul breaches told the story of internal explosions. The ship was docked to an airlock however the crew that was working inside were in space suits, working with no gravity as the station had no power. Captain Alexander Powell floated with his hand against the ceiling looking at the computer core still glowing on emergency power before looking to the bit of his crew he had brought with. “this is what we are here for, lets take care not to damage the cargo, the client says power has to be maintained....you got this Mike” “don't worry lieutenant I got this, your sister explained the whole thing to me, smooth sailing” came Miles response before pushing off the wall down towards where the power connected to the wall and beginning to get to work. He used the Captains old military rank rather than Captain mostly because he knew it got under Alex's skin, they had served together, and shared a mutual respect, but Mike likes to push peoples buttons. The third man in the room was there primarily for muscle at the moment, he had been hired on officially as an extra set of hands for their work which often involved heavy lifting, but as their work also involved a lot of gun play and dealing with less that reputable types he was something of an enforcer. He glanced down the darkened halls “this place give me the creeps....third ghost ship in a month” “ easy there Sam....no ghosts here, just some salvage and a good payday for us” in spite of his rougher edges Alex liked Sam, the man had been a mercenary, which Alex didn't care for, but had gotten out of the game with his morals intact, he'd signed on with Alex's Salvage operation because jobs were always legal, and to date had not been morally ambiguous. “oh big brother...” came a voice over the radio, the Pilot was calling to the rest of the crew “ I know that things are a bit delicate down there right now but we have some new friends” Hannah Powell sat straped into her seat on the bridge with the gravity turned down watching the screens around her, a ship was approaching in the distance, her brothers voice came in over the radio “what do we have?” he is annoyed, Hannah knows her brother well enough to know that he is not happy with the interruption, but less happy that some one else is approaching their work site. “ mid bulk, energy reading indicate weapons are active” a message appeared on one of her screens “ its Frankie...looks like he didn't learn his lesson last time” Alex closed the com and swore looking to the other two in the room with him “ get this buttoned up and back to the ship double time” Frankie 'bones' was a thug, and often rival for the crew, they had exchanged shots over salvage in the past, but normally Hannah wasn't left alone on the ship, they had yet to replace the gunner that had left at the last port. “ has he moved to attack yet?” he asked his sister, after a moment she replied “no he is keeping his distance, but there is a shuttle inbound, and he has a new computer expert” came the slightly amused voice of his sister “ they are trying to hack us” “Almost done boss...” Mike was generally amazed at Hannah's work with computer systems and now was no exception, he had removed the main power line and placed the power cell onto the computer core, a moment later it came back to full power and after a few bolts were removed the equipment was floating free the three started moving through the corridors of the empty station pushing the core along with them towards the airlock where they would be free to disengage. “ they are moving to attack, powering weapons” Came Hannah's much more serious voice over the radio, the engines had never been powered down and so as soon as the airlock was closed Hannah began to move away from the attacking ship, beginning to accelerate “they think they scared us off, they are not following” came Hannah's voice on the overhead as the rest of the crew secured the cargo “setting course for Bellingham, and there is a message for you Alex” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ two days later the Persephone was touching down at the Bellingham docks, in a days they had an early morning meeting with a potential client, their cargo had been delivered on route and the crew had been paid and brother and sister were arguing “ Absolutly not, you are not leaving the ship its too dangerous” now from the confines of a wheel chair Hannah glared up at her brother “ too dangerous? Have you looked outside, even the docks look safer than most places we go, I'm leaving the ship for a few hours” “the doctor said that-” Hannah cut her brother off “the doctor said that I need to take it easy in normal gravity, not that I had to sit on the ship the first time we have been planet side in months, I want to breath some air that hasn't been through our air purifiers, and I want to get off the ship, which by the way you cannot keep me on” Alex knew his sister was right but there was an overwhelming desire to protect his sister, and he had to hire a new gunner, which meant he was stuck with the ship. And in spite of their current profession and his sisters intelligence she is in some ways still a girl from a backwater planet that grew up on a farm, he sighed after a moment “ fine, but I'm sending Sam with you” Hannah looked livid “ as a baby sitter” “no, as a body guard...and to carry things back, if your going out you may as well pick up supplies for the ship” Hannah looked at her brother for a long minute before smiling moving forward before pulling him down into a hug, she left the bridge moments later leaving the captain alone for the moment. Before moving towards the computer to post the job opening, and see if there were any old friends who would like the job “crews getting big again” he said quietly to himself ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Friday morning the brother and sister made their way towards the meeting place, the rest of the crew was working on the ship but Captain and first mate would goto the meeting “Did they say what the job was?” Hannah asked her brother quietly as they made there way along “some sort of retrieval, they were not specific as to the what and where” he said, lack of details made him nervous, he respected his clients privacy, but when they were so tight lipped he wondered if it was legal, to date they had managed to not cross that line, they reached the meeting place a bit early and waited quietly conversing about the progress of ship repairs. Edited by Alissa, Feb 5 2011, 05:08 PM.
|
![]() |
|
| ~The Boss~ | Feb 13 2011, 01:15 AM Post #3 |
|
Native Son
![]()
|
New York City The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky high above the park, perfect day for a stroll. Or, perhaps, a pickup basketball game. Several were going on at a big fenced-in blacktop court in the middle of the park. Mostly teenagers looking to show off their skills, or middle-aged guys in their weekend leagues, coming to grips with their long-dead dreams of superstardom. Underneath one hoop, two people had been going one-one-one all afternoon. The woman - a dark-haired girl in a black sports bra and matching shorts, her right arm covered in tattoos - seemed to be dominating the game. Her opponent, a big burly 40-ish dude, was trying to hold his own with some intense physical play and an occasional dunk (amazingly he could still get up there), but she would inevitably make him look foolish. She'd burn him with the crossover, lay it in, then come right back and swipe the ball of of his hands, nailing a long jumper to finish it off. Jimmy Vega watched the two from behind the fence. Dressed as he was in a gray suit (no tie; Jimmy was always dressed sharply but he almost never wore a tie), he didn't look like he was about to grab a ball and take some shots. For now, he was merely a spectator. The game was playing out like it always did - Grace with all that speed and agility and guile making sandwiches out of Nick Scanlan, while he did what he could with pure strength and intensity, but ultimately falling short. Not that Nick wasn't a good athlete. He was old and slow, sure, but he could still block her shot, muscle her out of the lane, knock her to the ground, and generally harass her into a bad shot - so long as she didn't blow right past him, which she usually did. He couldn't shoot to save his life either, so if he wanted to put the biscuit in the basket he had to dunk it or lay it in. And while Grace seemed to steal the ball at will, once he was driving to the rim, there was nothing she could do but get out of the way unless she wanted to get flattened. "Hey!" Jimmy shouted, coming though the gate and onto the court. They stopped their game for a moment, Grace cradling the ball under her arm. "Hey Jimbo, what's up?" Nick said. "Been trying to reach you all day." "Well I been here. Where you been?" "His knuckles are all cut up," Grace said. "Means he's been beatin' on somebody." "Is that right?" Nick said with a grin. "How come you ain't called me, Jim?" Jimmy scowled. "Were you not just... nevermind. Listen up, I got a job for you two." .......................... Two hours ago Ronnie Black's fist connected with Derrick's face for the umpteenth time. The bounty hunter's nose hand long been broken, blood pouring out like a waterfall. He had been tied to that chair getting pounded like a heavy bag for so long he had gone numb. "You gonna pay up you sonofabitch?" Ronnie said. He punched Derrick again, for good measure. "I'm gettin' real sick of this shit, and I ain't got all day to sit around here and mess around with your dumb ass. Matter of fact..." Ronnie reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open and holding it up to Derrick's face. "Imma cut your balls off." "Ronnie!" Jimmy had been leaning up against the wall, calmly watching Ronnie do his thing. He had already had his turn, and his fists were bloodied as a result. Now he calmly walked up to them, flicking away his cigarette butt. "Put the knife away," Jimmy said. "Last thing we need is you going all psycho boy on us." He glared at Ronnie, and then at Derrick. They had been here since last night, trying to get this kid to pay up, but the stubborn bastard wouldn't budge. Kid was a Marine, he should've known he'd be this thick-headed. Just like Nick. Exactly like Nick. "But you are right about one thing," Jimmy continued. "We ain't got all day, and my patience is wearing thin." He drew a gun, sticking it in Derrick's face. "So you got, oh let's say thirty seconds to tell me that I'm getting my money, or I just kill you and be done with it." "I don't have your money," Derrick groaned, spitting a thick bloody wad onto the floor. "I already told you." "And I already told you that ain't what I wanna hear. Twenty seconds." "Alrightalrightalright!" Derrick said. He still had plenty of time, but he didn't want to let it get to that point where he was hearing the countdown. "There now," Jimmy said. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" "I can get you your money. I don't have any money, but I can get it. I got a huge job lined up. Top dollar, hush-hush, that kind of thing." He looked up at Jimmy with as much gumption as he had the strength to muster. "You let me take that job, and I'll get you your money." .......................... "How much?" Grace asked. "Enough to cover what he owes and then some," Jimmy replied. "An all expense paid trip to retrieve a package from Valhalla." "Valhalla..." Nick said, letting himself get lost in though. "Some bad shit's gone down in that neck o' the woods. Still goin' down, from what I hear." "Well bad shit or no, we're going. There's a meeting at Bellingham on Friday, they'll give us all the details. There's one catch though." Nick raised an eyebrow. "Ain't there always." "Our boy Derrick Rhodes already RSPV'ed, so they're gonna be expecting him. A bunch of gangsters try and roll up on them and they're gonna know some shit is up. So we gotta take him along with us." "Aw, now that ain't too bad," Nick said. "Long as he behaves himself. Friday you said? What day's today?" "Sunday," Grace said. "Tuesday," Jimmy corrected. "Which means we gotta hustle on out there. Now get home, get showered, get packed, and get your asses over to Kennedy. Ronnie's already down there, we got us a ship all lined up and everything. Now come on, we gotta go." |
| |
![]() |
|
| ~kies~ | Feb 16 2011, 07:24 PM Post #4 |
|
Kilroy says hi
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
(Ok, so I could not get this finished within a reasonable amount of time for the life of me. I don't know if it's because I'm rusty, or if I just don't have a good idea of what I would like to right. Whatever the reason, I've been working on this every day for the past week and a half, yet I haven't been able to come up with much at all. Since I don't want to hold anyone else up just because I'm getting bricked by writer's block, I'll at least post the tiny bit I DO have done. Once again, my apologies.) The sound of a weapon discharging pierced the night air. Michael Smith thumbed the pistol to “safe”, his icy blue eyes surveying the scene before him. He was in a small, dimly lit cabin, which was furnished with a thick layer of oak. Two men sat in front of a large round table in the middle of the room, the less fortunate of the two was gazing at the ceiling with lifeless eyes. Standing up, Michael wondered if Cory had suspected anything. In his own mind, it was obvious that however much he knew, the man sitting before him had not expected to meet his sudden end. Cory and Michael had been friends for a long time. Since his days in Harvard, they had spent many nights staying up late working on college assignments, and many more fantasizing about wild dreams and goals they wished to pursue. Now, their greatest aspiration had come to pass: They were about to be in possession of their very own ship! But Cory wouldn't be there to share the moment, not after the way he had been acting, and certainly not with the state he was in now. Michael holstered his weapon, and headed for the door. He was just starting to reach towards the handle when the it slammed open with a thundering crash that echoed off the walls, and someone almost ran in to him. “Holy crap Mick, what was that?!” It was Brian, judging by the shaving cream plastered to one side of his face, he had come to see what was going on in a hurry. Michael was a full head shorter than Brian, and not as powerfully built, but he spread his arms out, barring access to the room. He was about to speak when Brian cut him off. “I thought I just heard a gunshot, what's going on, are you guys ok!?” He demanded, trying to see around Michael. “Yeah, I'm fine Bri.” Michael responded flatly. Brian was still trying to see around Michael, and he ducked underneath his arms into the room. Michael quickly turned to intercept him as he strode towards the center of the room, but he was too late. Brian's face drained of color, and he turned towards Michael with an incredulous look on his face. “Oh my God Michael..... What happened?” Edited by kies, Feb 16 2011, 11:50 PM.
|
|
Just one of the many stages of self denial. "TehRippeh:He's really fat too" "TehRippeh:fatter than me" | |
![]() |
|
| ~RipTheJacker~ | Feb 24 2011, 07:25 PM Post #5 |
|
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
((I know it sucks, but this was the most I could come up with for now. Just so you guys have something to work with. Have fun at the meet 'n greet. You guys can create as many NPCs as you want or whatever.)) “You can’t possibly be planning on going out in THAT… Everyone will know you don’t fit in.” Josephine shot Luciola a glare as she hobbled down the street a few feet ahead of him. “Everyone will know I don’t fit in if you keep talking like you know me.” She spat at the curb. Luciola made a face of pure disgust. Josephine continued to walk faster, faking a limp. She wore a red flannel shirt under a leather jacket, half tucked into a pair of grubby brown pants and a pair of scuffed boots. Her messy hair stuck out from under a black cap, covering a patch over her left eye. Bellingham was dirty, seedy streets and crumbling sidewalks. A ghetto despite the elegant name. The sky was still a dark grey, lights flickered above the sidewalk. Old buildings loomed above, staring down at the streets with vacant eyes, broken windows. The old woman stopped when she came to a large building. The street lights hummed above her. She took in a deep breath and eyed up the building before pushing through the back door of the docking facility. The building was void of life, save for the old woman, flicking on the lights. She snatched up an old push broom and began to work her way from one end of the bay to the other, waiting patiently for the crews to show up. Edited by RipTheJacker, Feb 24 2011, 07:41 PM.
|
![]() |
|
| ~SaintlyTurkey~ | Mar 7 2011, 10:07 AM Post #6 |
|
BONEITIS!
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
“B-boss?” He groaned and thrashed in his bunk, his head pounding all the while. “Boss?” Kroy’s voice, damn him. Kroy knew only to wake him if it was necessary... So either the Jeremy’s fame was under attack, or they’d arrived at Carmen. Both meant he would have to drag himself from bed. “The fuck do you want?” he rasped, the mere act of speaking like rubbing sandpaper in his throat. “We’ve … ah…arrived. At C-Carmen, I mean.” --- The Jeremy’s Fame was a little ship, with a crew of six people. It was fairly old, but still in excellent condition. The previous owner had obviously taken good care of her. Kroy didn’t know who Jeremy was, but he guessed it was the poor man The Hardcase had beaten to death a few months ago, not long after the six of them had ran aboard the nearest docked ship when their latest deal had gone sideways. Kroy still felt sick about that, the man (Jeremy?) was going to give them the ship and leave for god’s sake… but The Hardcase’d felt it necessary to make sure no one knew what ship to look for. Kroy had been working for The Hardcase for little under a year now, and he’d seen him do some pretty brutal things… but that one moment sure made him question his loyalty. He kept telling himself that if The Hardcase was going to do something like that again, he’d try and stop him. Of course, Kroy being the coward he was, he’d probably just watch in frightened disgust and lose some more sleep about it. Kroy slumped into the nearest chair, waiting for The Hardcase. The hung-over bastard usually took a good few hours to get up, but Kroy hoped that today demanded he show a little discipline. Thankfully he turned out to be right, as the Hardcase soon emerged from a nearby door, clad in scarred, slightly charred riot armour, his face swathed in bandages as usual, save for a small patch around his left eye. Normally that eye was an orb of malice, bulging with anger from the scarred flesh… Now it was just bleary and bloodshot, showing no expression save extreme tiredness. It was strange how such a slight change in expression could make him appear no where near as horrific as usual. In his hands he held a sawed-off shotgun, and strapped across his chest was a bandolier full of shells. Walking with him was Surprise, his second in command. Her cybernetic eyes bulged from lidless sockets, giving a permanent expression of shock, leading to the name. Kroy had once mentioned how scared of The Hardcase he was to her, and she’d just laughed in his face and called him a pussy… Although whilst Jeremy was being murdered he could’ve sworn he’d seen her shaking in that large coat of hers. Her messy hair was plastered to her face, looking like she’d only just woken up herself. She carried no weapon that Kroy could see, but he knew for a fact she usually carried a pistol or two underneath her coat. The Hardcase nodded at him sleepily, and they climbed down the ramp into the Bellingham spaceport. --- Bellingham. For a name like that you’d expect the city to be classy… not a shit-hole like this. Broken and boarded up windows everywhere, dirty buildings and whores you could see from a mile off. Not that he had a problem with grimy cities… but calling a pile of shit a pile of diamonds always ticked him off. A lot of things ticked him off, if he was being honest with himself. His itchy face underneath the bandages for instance… and this goddamn pounding headache… and that little prick Kroy, if only for waking him up. He turned suddenly to look at Kroy, relishing at how the little bastard jumped in fright. “You do know the address, right?” He croaked, enjoying the nervous expression on Kroy’s scarred face. “Y-yep… g-got it written d-down here…” He said, producing a slip of yellowed paper from a pocket. The Hardcase looked him up and down. A young fucker this one… with shaggy blond hair and a scar across his face from left eyebrow to right cheek. He’d tried growing a beard, which was so wispy it made him look almost childish instead of mature. He wore red overalls, so dusty and old they looked almost brown and at his side, protruding from a pocket was the handle of a pistol. “Good. Now fucking find the place.” |
![]() |
|
| ~Alissa~ | Mar 9 2011, 03:08 PM Post #7 |
![]() ![]()
|
"where did you say this meeting was again Alex?" "we are almost there, why?" "this place seems....I don't know, like its going to stab me?" Alex chuckled at his sisters description of the area though the humor didn't last, this wasn't the safest of neighborhoods in the daylight from the looks of things, and in the predawn light things were honestly not much better, however there was at least the small consolation that most any one who would do them harm had probably given up for the night and gone some where to rest. Still the area made Hannah a bit nervous, which meant she was going to keep talking " what did you say this job was again?" "go into Valhalla and recover some lost property, right up our ally" "right up our ally..." Hannah Scoffed "you hired a new gunner right?" The implication was simple, they were going to need them, and a good one at that. -------------------------------------------- On the Persephone things were fairly normal, minor repairs had already been completed, the ship was fueled and ready to go as soon as the siblings got back to the ship with the details of the job. Sam and Mike were sitting at a table in the galley passing time as they waited for the job to start, quietly playing cards. "what do you think this cargo is anyways?" asked mike placing a few cards on the table looking satisfied with the way things were going at the moment. "don't know, don't much care too...Captn' keeps our noses pretty clean so I doubt its anything too illegal," Sam said drawing a card and beginning to slowly rearrange his cards, he did this every time which frustrated mike a bit, however the man had also learned that there was no way to speed the process along. "that he does...always been a stand up kid" Mike stood and moved across the galley towards the coffee pot refilling his cup " you meet the new gunner?" " not yet, whats he like" still moving cards around in his hand looking at the various combinations he had. "she....hard to tell, young but looks like she has been on a few ships, no one has a bad thing to say about her as a gunner, just that she is...distracting, what ever that means" Sam finally indicated it was mikes turn as the man sat back down and picked up his cards drawing and beginning to consider his next turn " you meet her yet?" " nope, I was rebuilding an accelerator coil when she came on board. been in her bunk since then, you know how it is when you sign on with a new crew..." he placed a few more cards on the table " I got you this time" as Sam started his turn the new crew member entered the galley moving towards the coffee, a mess of red hair suggesting she had not been awake that long. she looked to be maybe in her early twenties her right her right arm had a Tattoo of Felix the cat with a sniper riffle. currently dressed in what would be considered less than professional clothing, also known as Pajamas. she found the coffee pot filling a cup before turning to see the two men who had been in the galley the whole time Mike spoke first " you must be our new gunner" She nodded "I'm Cathrine.....or Cat, every one calls me Cat" she extended a hand in greeting which mike took shaking it lightly "well I'm mike, and this here is Sam" Cat waived at Sam who had returned his attention to his cards "Captn' plans on being gone in the next hour or so after he finishes with this meeting...might want to get dressed" She glanced down at her cloths a moment blushed a bit and nodded " I'll...just go get ready" and with that departed, coffee clutched in her hand, mike looked back towards Sam " about as welcoming as a junk yard dog" he said shaking his head, although Sam wasn't paying attention, he placed his cards on the table grinning "Gin" Edited by Alissa, Oct 6 2011, 04:01 PM.
|
![]() |
|
| ~The Boss~ | Mar 16 2011, 05:11 AM Post #8 |
|
Native Son
![]()
|
Nick looked out the passenger side window as the driver pulled the car up to a private hangar at the airport. Parked inside was a sleek black flying-wing shaped craft. Jimmy was standing out front, a great big grin on his face like he was showing off his brand new car. "Well well well... I gotta hand it to ya Jimbo," Nick said as he stepped out of the car, admiring the ship. "You done outdid yourself this time. How in the hell did you get ahold of a Longsword?" "Easy," Jimmy replied. "I just gave 'em the ID number on our boy's Hunters Guild card. You'd be surprised what you can do over the phone." "Well that is one damn fine flyin' machine." Nick had flown in a Longsword a few times before, back in his GFMC days. They were still some of the best gunships at the military's disposal, even though this particular model looked to be outdated. "You sure it's a good idea to let Ronnie fly a ship with guns on it?" Grace asked, coming out from the backseat carrying two duffel bags. "Why do you think I'm coming along? Somebody's gotta act as a chaperon." Grace looked up at the ship, still not convinced. Her eyes drifted down to the missiles mounted on the underside of the wings. "Just tell me those aren't nukes." "Don't worry, that is one thing I will never, ever let Ronnie get ahold of." ......................... The interior of the Longsword had been redone significantly since it had left military service and became the vehicle for a series of bounty hunters. Four tour bus-style bunks had been installed in the corridor, along with a kitchenette, for those long deep space trips. The bunks did pose a bit of a problem though, as there were only four of them for five people. That was okay, Grace thought. She'd just snuggle up next to Jimmy, whether he liked it or not. Seated at the edge of one of the bunks was a young brown-haired man who looked like he'd been in a fight. The cuts and bruises on his face were still very fresh, and a bandage had been taped across the bridge of his nose. He just sat there, staring off into space, barely acknowledging her. "You must be Derrick," Grace said extending her hand, friendly as always. "I'm Grace." "I know who you are," Derrick said, neither shaking her hand nor making eye contact with her. He wasn't about to become all buddy-buddy with these people. "You're Jimmy's girlfriend." "I wouldn't say 'girlfriend,' exactly." She tossed her bag up on one of the bunks, the one which already had Jimmy's bag in it. "It's... complicated. He's not what you'd call a one-woman man. I've learned to adjust, take what I can get from him. Plus, he hates me. At least until I start putting my hands on him. But that's probably more information than you wanted to know, isn't it?" Derrick still kept staring into space, like he was in a trance or something. In response, Grace went over and leaned up against the wall across from him, so that way he was looking right at her. "So what about you?" she asked. "How does a kid like you get in so deep with the likes of Jimmy Vega? Gambling? Drugs? No... can't be drugs. You don't strike me as a drug person. So c'mon, out with it." Finally, Derrick looked up at her, allowing his eyes to meet hers. "If you must know," he said, "it's all business related. I don't know how much you know about being a bounty hunter, but it's an expensive gig. You need the best weapons, the latest equipment, and a good ship. It's not easy to come by, either. But as a bounty hunter, you walk both sides of the law, and every hunter worth his salt knows that Jimmy Vega is a man who can get you what you need." "I see." Grace didn't need to hear the rest. She understood. It was another version of a story she'd heard time and again. He couldn't afford the help Jimmy was giving him and had run out of chances. "Well then, let me give you a little inside information," she said, sitting down on the bunk beside him. Though probably a little too close for his comfort judging from how he tensed up. "It's not about the money. It's about his pride. See, for all his arrogance, Jimmy's ego is a very fragile thing. But if you stroke it..." she grinned a bit at her unintentional double entendre, perhaps a Freudian slip on her part, "well, you can do great things." "I don't quite understand." "Look, it's like this. Don't just do the job... slam it face first into a concrete wall. Make it the greatest job you've ever done. You impress him enough, he may even start to like you." "I don't give a damn if he likes me." He sat up from the bunk, not wanting to be sitting that close to her. "And I don't need you acting like you're my friend. I just want to do my job and move on with my life." Grace just stared up at him for a second. "Fine, suit yourself," she said. She got up and started to head back out to grab the rest of the gear, then stopped and turned back to him. "Just think about it." Then she walked away and headed back out into the hangar. ......................... Friday "Charming little place," Jimmy said as Ronnie brought the ship down low over the city of Bellingham. "Which way to the country club?" "Aw, c'mon Jim, there's parts of Brooklyn that're worse than this," Ronnie said. As usual, the cockpit was a mess, with his starmaps scattered all over the place. They were covered with all sorts of unintelligible scribbles that Ronnie claimed were his notes and course calculations, but as far as everyone else could tell were ancient Sanskrit writings. He had a St. Christopher prayer card taped up on the console, another one of his customs. Ronnie Black was not a particularly religious man, but according to him nobody had been hurt with him flying since he started doing that. He also had an appropriate fear and respect for nuns. "Well alright Nick," Jimmy said. "Let's get you wired." "How come I gotta wear the wire?" the big Texan protested, thinking of his forest of chest hair and what would happen when he ripped the tape off. "Make the kid wear it." Jimmy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just quit your bitching and take your shirt off." ......................... Two hours later, Nick and Derrick walked into the old building, both dressed in black camo pants, black T-shirts, and combat boots. The cuts and bruises on Derrick's face had healed some, but he still wore the bandage. Nick looked at a piece of paper on which the directions to the meeting where written. "We in the right place?" he asked the old woman who was sweeping the floor. Derrick looked at the scrap of paper. "It's the right address," he said. |
| |
![]() |
|
| ~SaintlyTurkey~ | Mar 29 2011, 10:18 AM Post #9 |
|
BONEITIS!
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
As expected, his thoughts drifted back to her… They always did, no matter how much he tried not to. The knowing smile on her face. The accusation in her eyes as her troops rushed into the room, blocking his escape. The blood stains on her robe as she ran him through with the ceremonial sword she kept above her desk. The mocking laughter as she held his own gun to his head, and pulled the trigger. Anger burned through him, as usual. She had taken everything he had worked for, and horrifically maimed him to boot. She was why he was stuck here, doing dead end jobs with a gang of idiots to scrape together enough funds for his revenge. He could only hope this one job would be the final one, but he knew that was a load of crap, and he’d be doing another a month after this one finished. --- The Hardcase sure seemed pissed. Hell, Kroy was sure he could hear him grinding his teeth. Daring a quick glance, Kroy could see the boss’s eye glowering through the bandages, his anger apparently having won over tiredness. Their little group suddenly stopped in front of an old building, looking even more rundown than the others. It seemed as if every window was filthy, broken or boarded up. “This the place?” The Hardcase rasped. Kroy rushed to quickly pull out the paper before the Boss would take offense. He quickly opened it up and held it out in front of himself. “Well y’see that sign there boss?” Surprise asked in that quiet voice of hers, the slight smile on her face contrasting with her bulging, almost fish like robotic eyes. “Yes.” “Y’see the piece of paper Kroy’s got?” “Yes.” “Well they both have the same thing written on them. So yeah, I’d say this is the place.” Kroy was certain now he could hear the Hardcase grinding his teeth. --- Surprise held an ear against the door, struggling to hear what was being said. “-in the right place?” “It’s the right address.” And underneath the talking, she was certain she could hear something else. Brushing? Scraping? Too quiet to be sure. She turned and shrugged to the Boss, who then proceeded to push her out of the way and slam the door open, Kroy following him. Through the doorway she could see two men in black clothing, one of which had faded cuts and a bandage on his face. Beside the men was an old woman holding a broom. Surprise walked into the building, slowly closing the door behind her. The Hardcase snatched the paper out of Kroy’s hands, and after a quick glance at it, spoke. “You Josephine?” He asked the old woman. |
![]() |
|
| ~RipTheJacker~ | Oct 11 2011, 08:10 AM Post #10 |
|
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Josephine spat onto the concrete floor. “I might be…” She began eyeing the group before her, wrinkling her nose. “What do you want?” She spat again. Another group entered in through the door just behind Kroy and Hardcase. A tall slender girl with purple and green body armor strode effortlessly into the group, pushing past everyone. She was followed by two even taller men. At first they tried to fit through the door together, but to no avail, eventually it turned into a pushing fit in the background. “Where’s Josephine?” She sneered at the old woman. “Yer lookin’ at her!” Josephine barked, completely irritated with this second group of adventurers. “I don’t want to waste my time talking to the janitor, when are the key members showing up? I want to talk to the leader of the operation.” The tall woman demanded. One of the men behind her eventually pushed the other to the floor and squeezed through the door. The tall women seemed to not be paying attention to them. “I’m just here to tell people they’re in the right place, do I look like I know what’s going on? I’m here to sweep the floors, lady! God…” She started grumbling to herself as she pushed the broom in the opposite direction, inside smiling at the irony of her encounter. The larger of the two men started to push himself through the doorway, the metal door frame groaned under the pressure before finally snapping from the wall with a crack and a puff of cement dust. The dust settled silently around him, showing a look of complete shock and concern on his face. He gently took the door frame from his shoulders and held it out to the tall lady with a embarrassed smile and a apologetic grunt. “Put it back, Istus…” she crossed her arms and let out an exasperated sigh. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
|
|
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Sci-Fi Role Plays · Next Topic » |





![]](http://z3.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)






2:55 PM Jul 11