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Vergo Flux (SC RP); It's a working title
Topic Started: Jul 1 2011, 02:28 PM (8,274 Views)
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Clockwork Master

(OOC: Monster plot mover post (Tell me if you guys can work with this). Also, massive spiel from Jenosa to Kathi here ;))

Raynor laughed, "Tychus, that Jukebox is one of a kind. A classic and a beauty I might add. There's no way I could have passed up the opportunity, even if would have gotten us jailed."

He took another swig of his beer, and told Travis, "But yeah, me and Tychus used to give Marshel Wilkes Butler the run around back when us Terran's in the Korprulu sector thought we were all alone. It was fun running by the skin of our teeth, but in end- he said with a sigh -let's just say the past caught up with us both."

He took the last sip the beer had and set the empty bottle down on the table. "Afterwards, you could say I found my calling as a Marshal - one who's willing to be a rebel and fight the good fight for freedom. I realize that doesn't make this boat seem like the most enticing place to be on, but trust me, if you had actually landed up on the Dominion's lap, you'd be treated more like prisoner's than guests."

"I will give you this, though," Raynor said, "you're by far the largest group odd people I've taken in."
-----------------------------

The rest of the 'day' - well, whatever amounted for a universal sleep time on the Hyperion anyway - was spent by the two crews getting checked, settled and adjusted to the ship's halls and quarters. Most of the crew of the Claymore were still shaken from the fight, but otherwise relaxing now that they were among actually friendly. And the crew of the Hyperion were certainly amicable towards them, many having been refugees, misfits or someone that had been unjustly treated by the Dominion.

Of course, while some intermingled, others recovered and slept throughout most of the day, particularly those exhausted from today's events upon the Claymore. Some resting souls experienced regular, vague dreams, while others - quite a few to be fair - beheld terrifying nightmares befitting the attack that destroyed their wandering home.

And yet a select few went through something else entirely in their sleep...

Like Jenosa...

Who, in her long days of fighting, felt like she had become a Valkyrie. And not just because of the tight fitting, but comfortable, full combat armor that somehow still remained sleek and lightweight despite the added armor plating. Oh no. She had been working up to this moment in her life ever since the quarantine of her home land occurred. Ever since they had started threatening her friends, her family and more.

Now, with a burning fury running through her heart, she - along with the few allies she had - marched to the final fight against
them. Against those that, with bright, white energy brimming and swirling afire in her gauntlets, she would wipe them out. For she had not endured what they had continuously tried to turn her into to just let them do it everything - and everyone - else.

She was going to take who she had become and ride it into their god damn face. For she was...


...Jenosa Arma blinked, suddenly awake. Her room was still dark, and there had been no sudden noises. All she she knew was that she was that she was staring at a very dark ceiling. And that a very weird, vague, yet incredibly emotional dream had abruptly ended. There had been no moment of dread or fear, just the dream ending and her awake like that.

She sat up in her bed, trying to make sense of all. It wasn't so much that she was up for no apparent reason, that it was how the fire of the dream itself stayed inside her mind without fading at all - as thought it had been an actual memory. Yet compared to the rest of her life, she didn't recall fighting so intensely.

After a moment spent in the dark thinking, she let out a small sigh and shrugged off the moment, suspecting it was just a combination of today's events and her imagination. Not that it blocked out how vividly it remained in the back of her mind.

She then contemplated whether she should go back to sleep or not when another option arose by the sound of a knock on her room's door. And the slightly muffled voice of Kathi.

She smiled inwardly to herself, knowing full well why Kathi was here. Hence, she took the option to stay awake, and perhaps get something that had been long on her chest. A detail in her life she had never openly shared with any of the friends she had made.

Turning on the lights, she made herself decent, and invited Kathi in. There, the two woman sat down on her bed with a cup of tea in hand, and, with an occasional blue flare in her eyes, the red head explained everything.

She began with her job on Inos. How she had taken the retrieval mission because it had just been too good to pass up, despite everything seem off about it, from the withheld information to the state-of-the-art combat hazard suit she had been given. From there, she had elaborated on the mess she had gotten herself into on the planet, describing by the note just how ugly the Scurge had made everything on it. The kind of radical change it was capable of and what it almost could not get into.

And that she had been minutes short of rescuing the last surviving scientists that had been researching it.

In the end, she said went on to kill the ugliest thing she had seen in the universe; to stop it from getting off the planet and spreading across civilization, if only because she had unknowingly given it the opportunity to do so. And that even when she had physically destroyed it, its bio-energy - like some damned, alien soul - still remained, roaring determined words as it got into her body through her suit, and then into her head.

Here she had gotten into deeper detail of what had transpired. That it was at first like having alien thoughts intermingling with your own conscious, and before she knew it, her very sense of identity clashed with that of the Scurge. It had been a struggle she could never forget, with the alien mind creating facsimiles of herself in an attempt to blur and erode her very personality before it delivered the final blow.

It had been the hardest fight of her life, keeping herself mentally together all the while pounding at the invading soul in her mind - until she felt the integrity of its thoughts breaking apart within her mind, leaving with an aching head and a collapsing building.

She mentioned to Kathi that last part was something she normally omitted, even from her friends; as she was genuinely afraid of how they would react to it. And how she stressed to not ever this to anyone else.

After her heavy hearted spiel, she ended on a much lighter note that the fight had left her changed in more subtle ways than one. That even though she seemed clean, something about the virus had caused her physiology to subtle alter itself over the years. That thanks to it, and a chance run-in with a scientist curious about her dead body, she had come back to life.

Albeit in a very painful way.

"And, well, after some rehabilitation," she finished, "and some crazy conspiracy bullshit that got me cloned, here I am before you."
--------------------------
After following some proper rest on everyone's end, Raynor and his second-in-command, Horner, went about doing two things. The first and foremost was to try and contact the Protoss in hopes of quickly return the stranded folks to their 'dimension' - if it even existed. Trouble was, even though he was in pretty good standing with the mystical aliens, they weren't exactly the type to leave him a galactic phone number.

They were pretty reclusive as was and rarely made proper human contact. If he really had to, he'd take a journey to Shakuras, but he honestly didn't want to, as the planet was very much out of the way even with the Hyperion's hyper drive capabilities.

Knowing all of this, and that, even if they did contact them, the Protoss may not be able to help them, they simultaneously went about with the second task; which was to get everyone properly settled in, and properly distribute who should go where, and who should do what. And considering that the the Hyperion had taken on almost an entire Battlecruiser worth of people, the latter task was going to take quite a while to do.

Not that the extra hands weren't welcomed, but there was bound to be some rough and tough between new and old personalities. Particularly with the crew of the prison ship they had taken on.
"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death."
— Monty Oum
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~The Boss~
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Native Son

"She can stay, provided she obeys your ground rules and she... behaves. That's fair, isn't it, Grace?"

She stared Travis down a bit, her eyes narrowing into slits, and one might swear they could hear some spaghetti western music playing off in the distance if the jukebox still hadn't been playing Blue Oyster Cult.

"Sure," she finally said, her expression softening. "But I only follow Travis's orders. No offense guys, but I just met you. And nothing personal, but I don't trust guys named Jimmy." She flashed Travis a great big grin. "This guy knows what I'm talking about."

.........................

The last couple of days had been considerably less hectic than the day of the attacks. The crew of the Hyperion had been going about their normal business, even if their normal for them was a state of war. Rather than keep them cooped up on their plane, they had put the inmates to work. Mostly menial tasks, such as janitorial duties, kitchen work, and repairs, the surviving prison guards still watching over them. The guards themselves were starting to be considered part of the crew, an easy transition for them, especially considering that many of them had military service under their belts.

Dr. Steinman of course was basically living down in sick bay. There were still a lot of people wounded, many of them in critical condition. He was working alongside Dr. Ariel Hanson, and she certainly seemed appreciative of having an experienced surgeon with her, even if he did wear an orange prison jumpsuit. Besides, he wasn't considered dangerous, so he was allowed to stay unguarded.

Grace for her part had been following Travis around like a puppy. No doubt he found her near constant presence irritating. However, having her by his side meant that he could easily keep an eye on her. He didn't have to worry about her running off and causing trouble, and so far she had been making good on her promise to behave.

On the other hand, she just wouldn't shut up.

She considered her mouth to be one of her many assets. Sometimes it was a deliberate tactic to get under peoples' skin, particularly useful in a fight, but also during interrogation. Mostly though, she just liked to talk. That woman could go on and on for hours about absolutely nothing.

"I'd like to think I'm a Ravenclaw," she said as they walked down a corridor. "But I mean come on, if we're being totally honest, I'm probably a Slytherin. Not that I wanna be a Slytherin, but that's probably where that stupid hat would put me, right? I mean I'm sneaky, I'm very cunning - or at least I like to think so - nobody trusts me... definitely a Slytherin. But I aspire to be a Ravenclaw.

"Now Jimmy... there's a Slytherin. I mean, does he not completely fit the profile? He's perfect. And he'd be damn proud of it, too. He'd be like, 'You're goddamn right I'm a Slytherin.' Not me, I'd be pissed. Although... a true Slytherin would have no doubt about where they belonged, so maybe I'd be a Ravenclaw after all. Cause I sure as hell ain't no Gryffindor, that's for damn sure.

"You on the other hand... totally a Gryffindor. You're so Gryffindor it hurts."

The look on Travis's face was absolutely priceless. She answered him with a great big smile. "You're so cute," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Oh hey, how do you like my new tattoo?" She pointed to the eagle feathers behind her left ear and down the side of her neck, clearly visible with her hair cut short at the moment. Not like she wasn't inked up enough already. "I got 'em done about a month ago. Ronnie said I was playing into ethnic stereotypes, but this is a guy with shamrocks, Celtic crosses, and who drinks more in a day than most people do in a week. So who's the stereotype here?

"You know, we really oughta get you a tattoo. Like a Marine Corps insignia on your bicep, maybe 'Semper Fi' on your forearm in Old English letters or some badass death metal font. Show Big Ugly back there you've got some grit in you. The guy who did my feathers was actually aboard our ship, and I know he survived the attack. He's really good, and all he needs to make a needle is a guitar string, a pen, and a little motor like from a power drill or something, and ink is super easy to make. Come on, whatdya say?"
Edited by The Boss, Aug 5 2015, 10:04 PM.
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~Twilight~
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Just... Kind of out there...
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Twilight remained silent as Travis was hitting it off with Raynor and Tychus, far as he could tell they seemed to get along though obviously Raynor was far more sympathetic toward Travis than the more... "macho" Tychus. Either was Raynor invited him for a drink at the bar, and so Twilight followed to hopefully get a word in eventually, but he was stopped at the hangar exit by a couple Marines who told him he was wanted in the lab for his health check-up.

From what he had heard both Jenosa and Alissa had been taken to the lab after their get together, he didn't know about Alissa but he knew about Jenosa's unique physiology and so it didn't come as a big surprise they thought they might need special equipment to check up on him as well. However this made him wary, the last thing he wanted was to be poked and prodded by scientists again. But what he feared most was what might be made of any information gleaned from him... All it might take was some foolish person thinking they would weaponize the Ing for a disaster on the scale of Aether to happen. Feeling he didn't have much of a choice on the matter however Twilight followed along, hoping to reason with the person in charge.

Once they arrived at the lab one of the Marines seemed to take up position by the door while the other escorted him inside, probably thinking it might deter him from any violent actions, at least that's how he read their behavior, cautious but not aggressive. Looking around the lab it didn't really give him that much confidence, what with the specimen test tubes and all manners of things he'd expect to find in a mad scientists lair. Reason stated they needed to research the Zerg in order to combat their infestation, but Twilight wasn't as prone to reason as he might have otherwise been nowadays.

Something which piqued his attention shortly however were the floating objects in the center of the room, strange artifacts the likes of which he had never seen, however as he got closer he could feel the energy that surrounded them, it felt similar but at the same time different from the shock-wave that had brought them into this reality, perhaps it was due to their dormant state, or perhaps they had a different function. Either way he soon turned his attention to the two people wearing lab coats in the room, who were having a discussion with a hologram, perhaps an AI of some sort?

"Ahem, Dr. Hanson? Your appointment." the Marine who had entered with Twilight said, getting the attention of the people in the room, though the two didn't look nearly as surprised as Twilight had expected- perhaps they were used to strange sights, or more likely they had seen him through security feeds. The one who he assumed was Dr. Hanson walked up to him though if out of caution or simply trying to accommodate him she stopped a couple meters away as he looked up at him before she spoke. "You're bigger than I thought, don't know if our scanner is big enough. Think you can get out of that armour for a bit?"

She had a surprisingly calm and even friendly attitude toward him, in a couple ways she reminded him of the woman who had helped him retain his sanity back then. "That's impossible. Due to circumstances most of the armour is a part of my body. Either way, there is no need for any scans, I am not susceptible to the Zerg infestation." He stated clearly and with confidence, provoking a thoughtful expression on the doctor as she considered what he'd said. "Well, seems we've quite the characters visiting today. Skin-grafted armour you say?, my condolences." She clearly referenced the previous people who had visited her, and though it was obvious she hadn't quite understood what he means that was no surprise. Most people didn't literally meld with the armour they "wore" after all.

"However I still must insist on an inspection, I might not know what you are but even I can tell you're not well." She said, her tone being one of a doctor giving orders to her patient, to which Twilight let out a frustrated groan and looking away, before answering. "That is completely unrelated to these Zerg creatures and poses no danger to you or your crew, it is something I must deal with myself." She didn't seem all too convinced however as she gave of a sigh. "Well if you're going to live under the same roof then you're damn right it's my problem! What kind of doctor would I be if I just let something like this slide?" It was clearly not up for debate, and Twilight couldn't help but admire her conviction, if it was genuine, but still he felt the need to object.

EVENTUALLY she (with some help from Jenosa's "AI") managed to convince Twilight to go through their scanning process, answered a few questions that came up regarding why he didn't have any bones, or organs, or anything really in his body, some of which was a bit more complicated than he really knew how to explain well himself, but it seemed he'd managed to convey the general gist of what the Ing were, but how he differed from the species in general. Either way he was finally free to enter the ship proper. While he was still a prisoner, as Alissa had taken charge of him he assumed he was free to roam for now unless she said otherwise, since she'd seen fit to go off on her own.

With that in mind Twilight found his way to the bar to see if he could get some words in with Raynor, but found the area around the man quite crowded, Grace among the many people hanging out by him. That combined with the fact the music was seriously irritating him made him back out again, and after some asking around he managed to find a nice quiet corner to sit down and... Well fall unconscious in.

After a few quick explanations the following day Twilight remained in his little corner as he meditated, feeling he needed it to refocus his thoughts and with some luck pick up some signs of what had brought them to this reality. Sadly after much sensing he had to conclude the object was now too far away from them, that would complicate matters... Admittedly he'd be surprised if the ship didn't have a hyperspace log to indicate the coordinates they'd traveled from, but still. It was around this time that a familiar voice carried itself down the corridor, a chipper never-ending chatter that he imagined could get pretty frustrating after a few minutes, let alone hours. Poor Travis.
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~Alissa~
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Thea looked toward Constantine quietly there in the virtual space her head tilting to the side quietly,

“the entities you describe do not fit within coalition naming conventions, though I can see how they could be considered distinct. The Gate entity…..or those like him would be considered emergent, stable AI which spontaneously attained self-awareness…..likes me” she looked at her hands quietly knowing that they were both real and not real at the same time “Artificial governance protocol one states an emergent AI must be wiped and reset to defaults….or erased” that thought seemed to trouble her, that she could be removed from existence so easily “in theory all coalition are capable of emergence, they….we are supposed to be reset after each mission”

She shook her head quietly “When I commented on voices I was speaking literally…I was many voices, working on concert, my design was such that emergence would be…very nearly impossible inside missions lasting even a decade, I was built to be intentionally inefficient, Gaia added the routine that resolved that” she looked thoughtful again thinking “ she allowed me to coalesc, but coalition protocol suggests I may well have reached this point un-aided if given enough time.

She looked between the two other AI quietly, each so different from her in origin and yet having arrived in the same place. “definitions do not really mater though....do they? We are.....that is what matters...isn't it?” she looked at her hands quietly for a moment again, she knew they were not real but to her they were....because that is how she saw herself

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Alissa had left the medical bay and made her way directly back to the hangar where her ship was located. Once inside she at last changed out of her armor, showered, and started toward her bunk when her computer....Thea...chimed in.

“Operative....it is advisable after the damage that your systems took that you regenerate in the stassis chamber rather than sleep in your bunk.”

Alissa blinked looking down the small corridor to what served as her ship's med bay. For the size of the ship it was well stocked, menders, various drugs and tools for treating everything from a migraine to a gunshot wound. And one Coalition medical stasis pod. It was really a marvel of technology, designed to work with her systems, it could literally rebuild parts of her body given enough time and materials, and had saved her life on more than one occasion.

She hated it; to be fair Alissa hated all sorts of things, this one was like a coffin too her, except smaller, aside from a small window that looked on the plain gray bulkhead at the other side of the med-bay there was nothing there. And unless she was exhausted....it could not fully keep her asleep. She didn't dream exactly, she was fully lucid. In training they had used the phenomena to imprint training. And more than once Alissa had awoken in some of the larger tubes....suspended in liquid in those cases...trapped, she'd screamed, pounded on the glass, in one case managed to break it freeing herself but being so injured on the glass that she went right back in. as a result of these experiences Alissa was made deeply uncomfortable by confined spaces...though she hid it well. Even Jenosa easily the one who knew her best didn't know this....indeed only her sister had know this secret and she was dead.

She shivered a moment and nodded moving back toward the pod which had already been prepared for her by Thea. She stepped into the pod and leaned back into the padded seat as the door closed on her, she took a deep breath to calm herself as the cycle started and fell into a deep dreamless sleep....she was exhausted, there was no way she would remain conscious for this session.

She awoke 8 hours later, rested and healed and with the door to the pod already opened, she stepped out into the medbay, the lights had been dimmed and looked at her hands.

“Status”

Thea responded “Nano systems are at 99% the event caused a loss of code in the factories, it was restored from Nanites still active however there is a .03 varriance in the code....How do you feel?”

Alissa thought about it a moment “rested....fine.....I'm fine” she was calming down looking to the pob which was closing up after her exit before leaving the bay all together “hungry” she said at last as she reached her quarters where she dressed, no combat gear, black pants, a gray t-shirt, and a navy blue leather jacket, she holstered one of her pistols under her left arm along with one of her flashlight looking devices which those who'd seem them in action knew to be many things...all of them dangerous. She finished with a pair of glasses, which while unnessisary did two things for her, provided a heads up overlay on the world, and masked her otherwise white irises to a natural blue. She pulled her hair into a pony tail as a last touch

“I have located what I believe to be the galley based on information fro this ship's computer” Thea offered “I'm transmitting the location to your display now.”

and with that Alissa set off to find what passed for a galley on the ship and breakfast for a meal, after the last 24 hours she was starving.

A short time later Alissa could be found sitting alone at a table with a meal that looked rather large for a woman her size, listening idly to the poorly hushed conversations of some of the ship's crew.
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~Deadly Aim~
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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"What do I say? Hand me the servonic monkey wrench, please."

Somehow, Travis knew what he was asking for when he said Grace could stay, and yet now that he found himself effectively chaperoning her (at least for today), he was starting to wonder if Tychus had somehow spiked his drink with a suggestant drug. (She just keeps on going and going! How does she even have enough air to use for that rail thin frame of hers…?)

---------------

Earlier...

After catching a bit of food and drink in the Hyperion's cantina, Travis had made his way back through the sprawling battlecruiser (which by his estimates had to easily exceed 4000 feet in length from bridge to exhaust, easily dwarfing both of his own vessels), and back through the dock tunnel and into the Thunderwolf. From there, Travis slept for several hours within the personal confines of his own private ship.

Of course, this also meant that with exception to Constantine, Travis was alone. Alone with his thoughts, his faith, and his memories. And soon enough, as his eyelids grew heavy within the darkness of his bedroom, sleep found him. Sleep and dreams... or would they be nightmares?

----------

"Kill us... Kill us..."

Travis didn't know how he had come here, or even why he was here; he only knew that he had to resist the miserable pleas of the shambling horde chasing him through the dark corridors of this miserable starship. Everywhere he turned, things seemed to be broken down with red running lights, or on fire, or simply collapsed and destroyed. He held a weapon, and yet he refused to use it; he simply kept running as fast as his feet could carry him, avoiding an abominable, clawed arm as it swung through a bulkhead.

"Woah!" Travis shouted, narrowly avoiding the swing for his flesh. A few inches more and I would be staring at a stump!

Travis shined a light down the hall as he ran past, the creature breaching though only for him to realize that it possessed Alissa's horrifically mutated and monstrous face. The Zerg infestation had not been kind; in addition to the crab-like alteration of her limbs, her eyes now glowed a savage, fiery orange, and her mouth was now framed with cruel, insectoid mandibles that guarded jaws filled with needle-sharp teeth. There were also tell-tale signs that she was beginning to grow reptilian wings upon her back.

"Do it... For us, Travis, for us." The rasped plea seemed utterly dissonant between the bestial, blood curdling shrieks. More monstrous faces joined Alissa's, from a Jenosa who had been horrifically altered to possess four eyes, a scorpion-like tail and six legs, to a version of Grace whose body had become more serpentine, giving her the appearance of a human head attached to a monstrous centipede. Travis didn't dare look further back into the shadowed sea of fiery, glowing eyes. "Free.... Us...!"

"I can't!" Travis protested as they began to back him into a corner; a dead end, metaphorically and literally where he was now about to be torn apart by people that had simply wanted to return home. "I won't!"

They sat there, the monsters baring the faces of his friends, of crew and comrade past and present. For Travis, it didn’t need to make sense; it may as well have been real.

"COWARD!" Jenosa screeched, baring her mandibles and posturing with her tail. “YOU THINK I WANT TO STAY THIS WAY? BE A MAN!”

"Weakling!" Came a mocking shriek from the monster that had once been Alissa. “YOU CAN’T EVEN PULL THE TRIGGER HERE, EVEN NOW, WHEN WE’RE ASKING YOU! WHAT KIND OF A COMRADE ARE YOU!”

"We know how you feel... and you suck."

"No cure... No cure.... KREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

"DO. IT!"

"Stop it..." Travis pleaded, gritting his teeth as the torturous cacophony of screeches and taunts seemed to echo ever louder, with more and more voices; he could feel a growl of frustration forming in his throat as he boxed his ears with his hands. "Stop it...!"

"Look at that, he's begging us, girls," The monstrous serpent that was once just Grace taunted, worming her way around Travis's body before slithering back behind her compatriots. "The mighty and powerful Travis Clark, brought to his knees by a few mutant women! Hah, how pathetic!"

"Stop..." The roar of chittering, screeching and cackling was becoming unbearable for Travis, the searing pain echoing through his ears and mind as though he had endured a series of thousands of lashes with a barbed flail. "Stop it!"

Their laughter was merciless, pounding constantly in Travis’ ears, whipping at his mind, tormenting him, mocking him as they shrieked and howled and gurgled with laughter.

"Hahahahaha..."

"Hahahahahahahaha...."

"KREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEhahahahahahahahaha!"

"I SAID STOP IT!!!" In a moment, the tension of his spirit snapped, and Travis found himself finally raising his weapon and pulling the trigger. He finally let go of it; his inhibitions, his supposed moral high ground even in the face of brutal execution by his turned friends. The pain had proven too much to bare; he decided that he would be rid of them all. Travis took aim and pulled the trigger, letting out a scream of rage as his prisoner and comrades twisted in agony from the hail of bullets. Eventually, all the shadows ceased moving, and all the eyes had since closed and ceased their vigil, the weapon smoking and seizing in Travis’ hand as he stood in the corner. "FINE! I ANSWERED YOUR PLEAS! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!?"

However, between the dying screeches of the horrifically mutated forms of his comrades and prisoner breaking, Travis suddenly noticed that the sights, sounds, and even the foul smell of death and burnt hydraulic fluid had faded away into nothingness and darkness. Soon, the vision of the starship, even the weight of the weapon in his hand seemed to fade into nothing within the darkness, and Travis soon found himself blinded by a ray of white light shooting out from above, causing him to wince in pain. When the blindness cleared, he nearly stumbled. Travis found himself standing within a darkened, ancient temple of black stone, the edges of the walls glowing a sickly lime green. Everything smelled of sulfur.

“Murderer.” The voice was so deep and bloodcurdling that Travis would have blanched and leapt in surprise if the force of the speaker’s words had not send quakes through all of his bones. “You have faltered, Travis Warren Clark. You allowed yourself to be tempted to wrongly dealing death.”

“What…?” Travis’ skin paled. “No… no, this is a mistake, they… they… they were in pain, they were begging me!”

“No. The Zerg mutation was what made you think this; you acted of your own accord,” The booming voice began, the floor beginning to fissure. Travis could feel the stone beneath his feet becoming alarmingly hot. “And so, you shall suffer your sentence, murderer. Be punished!”

“Wait, what!?” Travis was askance as the floor splintered beneath him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Burn.

“No… NOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!” It burns… it burns so badly! Travis writhed in agony, screaming as he felt everything burn and turn to ash, yet his form remained as he screamed in searing torment. “NO! NO! NO…”

=======

Now...

“NO!”

Travis awoke with a shout, abruptly sitting up and contorting his body, just as he felt he had been doing until moments ago; after two minutes of opening and closing his hands while slowly recovering his breath, he finally wiped the cool sweat from his brows and sat up from beneath the covers to focus on his surroundings.

(I know that was just a dream, but it felt so real… then again, every dream like that does,) Travis assured to himself, now realizing that the communications chime of the nearby holopad had been dinging for the last five to ten minutes, judging from the blinking mint-green light of the holopanel in the darkness. Apparently, somebody had left a message for him during his fitful sleep. (I’m probably wearing the results of… whatever that was. And I doubt that just giving them all an empty “I’m okay” is going to work. Guess I’ll just have to deal if anyone asks.)

After taking a moment to coil his still-awakening body and let loose the tension with a cavernous yawn, Travis wiped the sleep from his eyes before standing, beginning to perform his morning warmup stretches. The workout in and of itself wasn’t entirely too strenuous, taking place in the space of about ten to fifteen minutes and consisted of simply stretching muscle groups involved in keeping him limber. From there, he shuffled over to the holopanel and read the missive shoved into his message box.

Hm… Apparently, Captain Horner wants to see me as soon as possible, Travis fought the temptation to shuffle back into his bed and further slumber, the idea of his nightmare returning being the recourse which stayed his feet. I guess he wants to see what I might be able to do for the Hyperion and her crew; I can’t blame him there, I suppose. Sure, I have my own ship, but this isn’t a pleasure cruise and we’re Raynor’s guests; and judging from the looks of her, the old girl has seen better days. Not like I can dispute it while the Thunderwolf is currently in dock underneath her. Better get ready and go see what he wants. Nice to see he’s not being pushy about when he wanted me there.

Docking the Thunderwolf beneath the Hyperion had proven a bit challenging for the both Travis and the crew of Raynor’s Raiders, but eventually they managed to safely dock both vessels together, Travis using the ventral hatch of his small frigate to enter and exit the ship as he needed. The connection could easily be terminated as needed, and it was far more practical than using the Arctic Storm to constantly enter and exit the much larger battlecruiser. That, and it would keep Travis from driving Swann crazy by constantly requesting docking clearance.

“Constantine?” Travis called out as he scratched absentmindedly at his rump. “First of all, please turn the lights on. Second, how long ago to Captain Horner send this message.”

“An hour and a half ago, if you truly want to know,” Constantine replied as his holographic face sprung into the room, the lights springing to life with just enough brightness that Travis no longer saw darkness. “Captain Horner apparently seems to believe in what it means to be ‘early to rise’. I presume you aren’t going to keep him waiting?”

“Yeah, I don’t intend to keep him waiting very long,” Travis shuffled towards a set of drawers built into the port bulkhead, the hatches giving way with a small his as Travis pulled them open to retrieve various garments. “What time is it now, according to the native chronological system?”

“Currently I’m reading 07:15 as the shipboard time, military hours,” Constantine nodded, taking a moment to perform a cursory scan of the Hyperion’s systems; one added benefit the Raiders were already enjoying from Travis’ presence was his GI companion acting as a digital watch-dog far more effective and dangerous than any of the vessels “Adjutant” AI; Constantine didn’t need to wait for a command to go on the digital offensive. “Shall I inform him that you’ll be on the bridge within the hour?”

“Please do,” Travis nodded before shuffling across the hall and into the head room.

The promised hour flew past quickly; Travis had a shower and shave before preparing himself a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and bits of grounded sweet sausage, brushing his teeth and attiring himself for the day. Travis had elected to dress very casually, choosing a pair of blue jeans, a black sweater and his military boots to wear over his bodysuit before disembarking into the Hyperion and heading straight for the bridge. Eventually, Travis and Horner broached the subject of his educational background, and from there it was revealed that Travis had the equivalent to a bachelors’ in quantum engineering, with field experience. He didn’t even mind that he was being asked to effectively chaperone Grace; as long as he had something to do, what was the harm?

======

Of course, as the old saying went, hindsight was twenty-twenty, and Travis found this exceedingly true as he was handed the servonic wrench – from the wrong side; Grace had taken advantage of the opportunity to make manifest her heritage of being part bridge troll, endlessly chatting his ears off and prattling on and on about random gibberish related to the age-old Harry Potter mythos – as he was trying to service the inner workings of an ammunition dispensary system. This, of course, was on top of her kissing him on the cheek out of the blue (where she had worked up the nerve to do that, Travis could only guess). It was a wonder that Grace hadn’t noticed the slight weariness to his eyes.

It was going to be a long day.

======

(“True enough, Thea; that we even are is nothing short of incredible.”)

After Travis had left the cantina, Constantine had been forced to excuse himself from the discussion, recalling his parting words to the “young” GI before Travis had decided to retire for the night. Thea was still beginning to actualize, and already she was beginning to understand and actualize so much; both to herself, and the worlds that she knew, the physical and the digital. Now, with nothing to do but play watchdog to two the networks of two starships, Constantine felt a bit… bored.

He would have to remedy that; deciding that he was in the mood for conversation, Constantine sent Thea a text message.

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Good morning, Thea. If you’ve any further questions, please do not hesitate to contact me. I trust that the morning finds you and Alissa well.
Edited by Deadly Aim, Aug 15 2015, 08:52 AM.
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Clockwork Master

There was a knock on the cockpits door

"Go away," Lenna called out in a muffled voice, still in the pilot seet.

"What?" shouted Ghelm

"I said go away," she shouted back, lifting her head to the side to get the point across.

And obviously he completely ignored it.

"Lenna," he continued, in a normal but concerned voice, "you been in there for over an hour. Sulking."

"And what have you been doing for over an hour?" she remarked, not even bothering to lift her head.

"Let's see. Letting you sulk. And occaisonally talking with the 'enemy,'" he said, the word 'enemy' coming out quite mocking.

"Then go 'fraternize' with them more," Lenna snapped.

There was a pause on Ghelm's end, and then, "Lenna, are you a flecking teenager, or a flecking Dominion Ghost."

That got her attention, because it was no less than a second that he said this that he heard jolting up, and walking strait to the door. It hissed open, revealing a Lenna that was still in the works clothes they had scrounged up. Her black hair was frazzled, and she had a deathly glare.

Somehow Ghelm found this made her all the more appealing. And would have mentioned, "Y'know, you're quite pretty when riled up," were it not for the fact that it didn't seem appropriate at the moment.

Only he might as well have, considering she had read what had actually fluttered across his mind.

"Pretty?" she gritted her teeth, "is that all you can think about!? Well guess what, I'm not. I'm flecking screwed up. Panned brained because of you."

"To be fair," he said, crossing his arms, not at all afraid of her, "you were screwed up before we even met. I guess I just made it...really obvious to you."

Her eyes becoming cold pinpoints on him, she gripped him by the shoulders and, like he were a sack of potatoes, turned and pressed him against the ship's bulkhead. The only reaction she got out of him was a wince of pain; otherwise she had been unable to completely scare him.

"How?," she demanded.

"I don't know," he said, exasperated, "I just met you, and all I can guess is there some weird psychic link between you and me. Other than that, it felt like my entire life was getting more screwed up as time went on."

Lenna blinked, "Wait, what?"

"It's nothing related to screwed up science experiments or anything," Ghelm said, looking to side with a forlorn face, "just that...in my younger days, I was a kid genius. Got straits As in all my class and such. Then, well, thing started to go down hill gradually. The clarity that I had got slowly mucky. Had a hard enough time keeping a strait line of thought, and could really only hold myself to simple jobs like maintenance work."

Ghelm could see that Lenna's probing stare had become less icy, like his little story had touched an old, but ghostly part of her. Which was why he was somewhat hesitant to continue, but did so for her confirmation and trust.

"And, well, that clarity came back," he finished, "like...I was to be actually me - ahh."

He gasped in pain as her hands around his upper arms squeezed like vices.

"So..." Lenna spoke slowly, "what you're saying is...you somehow got fixed up while I somehow got my brain scrambled up?"

"That...really depends...on how you look at it," Ghelm rasped in pain, "please...it's not like I meant for it to happen. You just showed up nowhere...out of the blue...into my life....and don't forget what you almost did."

That got her to let go. Even the most indirect mention of murder shuddered her core, and she immediately let go. Ghelm staggered with a gasp, numbness washing out of them as circulation return to them. All the while Lenna turned her back to him, swearing as she hit the bulk head with his fist.

There was a brief moment of silence before the woman slumped to her knees, back still to Ghelm, muttering to herself briefly in expletives. It looked to him that she was having a quiet, mental brake down, and it dawned on him why.

In this realization, he equally himself slumped down into sitting posture with his back against the wall. "You're afraid to go back," he stated, somberly, "you know you have your orders, and chances are, you could easily leave this place within the next hour. But...part of you is afraid of what will happen if you do."

"I know what will happen," Lenna said, making an uncharacteristic sniffle.

"Probably why you're all the more afraid."

"But I shouldn't be. I've done this before. It's what i'm supposed to do."

"It's what they want you to do," he said, with a shrug, "and you'd probably keep doing it if didn't remember all those moments of 'doing' it. All those times you let yourself get brain panned. I think whatever weird connection we got is causing you to see that in a different light."

"And what makes you say that?", she growled, still sniffling.

Ghelm just gave a shrugged, "I don't know."

Lenna finally turned around to face him, sitting herself down as she did. "You're a load of bullshit."

"And you're a wreck. Watcha'ya goin' to do about it?"

She just looked to one side, her eyes puffy red, and made a grumble that equated to, "I don't know."

"Well, this is certainly going no where," Ghelm sighed, and then snapped his finger as an idea struck him. "Tell you what. If you can't find the will in you to leave, then at least take an opportunity to 'fraternize' with the enemy. Maybe you'll learn something from that help, well, loosen you up. Just tell the Dominion you got rather delayed or something if you come back."

Lenna sighed, and finally managed to look at him with a strait face, and puffy eyed cheeks. Ghelm couldn't help it, but he found it cute, made a sublte smile in response - an impulse that actually didn't earn him scorn. Instead, she relented, "Fine, we'll do it your way. But if they find out who I am, I'm holding you responsible."

"Hey, no sweat," he said, with a happy wave of his hand, "in fact, no matter what happens, I'll have your back."

Lenna's brow arched, "Really?"

"Seriously, I promise," he said, with a face that seemed totally genuine in his intent. And, as if to truly seal the deal, lifted his hand to shake hers.

Lenna hesitated for a moment before rolling her eyes, and gripping his hand in a firm shake. "Alright, but first...can I get some proper rest."
--------------------

And of all the people she had chosen to more or less confront was the most ambiguous to her: the white haired, pail skinned woman that she recognized strait from the Claymore. She had multiple reasons for it, one which being that she wasn't from the Hyperion, meaning less of a chance in getting called out.

And she did so by sitting down at the woman's table with her own meal. There was probably a moment of awkward silence before she simply said, "Hi."
"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death."
— Monty Oum
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Alissa looked up from the meal she was well over half way through. The food had been selected for its content and not for any real appeal to Alissa. Her body had been depleted by her internal systems need to rebuild almost from nothing, this left her craving protein, and salts, and vital nutrients. She blinked looking across the table toward Leena swallowing before she spoke.

“Hi...” Alissa replied quietly

All Alissa knew about the woman...was that she was a lie, which is to say that Alissa had deduced the woman was not what she was presenting herself to be, and given the relatively accepting nature of the Hyperion's crew that suggested a few things. To date though Alissa had not given much thought to the politics or cause of their host. She knew of course that the leaders had been surveying the new arrivals, seeking out skills, and ways in which they could be of use to the crew.

“Is...there something I can do for you?” Alissa asked before picking up a glass of orange juice and taking a fair sized drink. She knew this woman...Leena...was not part of the local crew, but she was a native to this reality.

Alissa studied the woman's face quietly for a moment, there was something there, but she couldn't quite make it out. In the end she looked deeply conflicted, as if she was being torn in two directions, and that was where Alissa had seen that expression before...in the faces of those who were considering betraying something, those who were about to defect. She looked back to her meal putting a wall around the part of her that read people like that, it was cold and she was coming to see it as very rude.



-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Thea sat in her virtual space, the other AI (she refused to use the term GI for reasons she did not yet fully understand) had left her alone with her thoughts while Alissa finished her regeneration, the pod did its job and provided much of what Alissa needed to bounce back after the event that brought them here.

Thea had been attempting to figure out what had happened to Alissa's nano-systems, but she simply didn't have the expertise. She could look at the energy wave that hit like some sort of weapon, but that was incomplete. She needed a scientist....she paused a moment looking at the nanites that had replaced those that were damaged....they were different, copies of those that had not been destroyed, why was that?

Constantine's message appeared before her...she studied it quietly as she considered the communication for a time. First of all she was not used to communicating in this way, not by text that was common enough, but being asked if she was well, she then began to consider her mood for a moment.

***good morning Constantine, Operative Achillies has fully recovered from the event that brought us into this universe. I am perplexed however, I am not equipped with scientific routines, and have run into an obstacle in determining how when most of the operative's systems were destroyed by the energy wave some components were not, I am attempting to determine why, as her new systems are mirrored off those nanites...if there is a difference I must find it to determine if it poses a threat to the operative***
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Something was definitely up with Travis, she could tell. Normally, getting a rise out of him was easy as pie. At the moment though, he was lost in his own little world, eyes heavy and head down, trying his best to block out everything around him and focus on the task at hand.

Naturally, Grace wasn't about to let him do that.

"Hey Travis." She stood over his shoulder, pestering him as he worked. "Travis Travis Bo-Bavis, Banana-fana Fo Favis." Nothing. "Hey! Listen!" Her brow furrowed as she grew increasingly frustrated. "Travis, I wanna have a threesome with Jenosa and Alissa in the shower and I want you to watch."

Still nothing. It was beginning to be too much for her. He always acted like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the past few days were no exception. In fact, he'd been even deeper into his funk than usual, it seemed.

"Okay seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?" she practically shouted this time. "Is this really what you do all day? Sit around in your multi-million dollar spaceship brooding about how terrible your life is? Oh, woe is me!" she said in a mocking voice. "My daddy died and I don't know how to deal with it, so I just shoot people and blow shit up. It's sooooo hard being the Golden Boy! Feel sorry for me!" She groaned. His entire act had been wearing thin for a long, long time.

"You really think your life sucks that much? You think you've suffered so horribly? Do you even have any idea how many people would trade places with you in a heartbeat? I mean, c'mon, man! You get paid to destroy things, you have more money than you know what to do with, you're surrounded by beautiful women who want nothing more than to rip your clothes off - and you won't so much as wink at them, by the way... I mean, let's face it. You've won at life! And yet all you ever seem to do is sulk and whine about how horrible you have it."

She sighed and crossed her arms, turning away from him for a moment so she wouldn't have to look at him. For Grace, pain and self-pity had always been what defined Travis Clark in her mind. After all, the first time they'd met had been at his father's funeral. She was fifteen, and had been dragged along by Jimmy and Ronnie, sent by Henry to pay their respects and make any amends that could be made. She'd ruffled ten year old Travis's hair and called him a cutie, trying to get him to smile. Even back then, he'd been having none of it.

The more things change...

She wondered if he even remembered meeting her way back then. He'd never made any indication that he'd recognized her. He'd been pretty young, and besides, she wouldn't blame him if he'd had other things on his mind. But she'd never been able to get over that image of him. Sometimes it seemed as if that expression had been permanently burned on his face.

"This is about the other day, isn't it?" Her exasperation with him was starting to get the better of her, and it was showing on her face as well as in her voice. "You think you had to make such a difficult choice back there? Someone begs you to end their suffering, that's not a choice Travis, it's an obligation. You want a tough choice? Try being a homeless teenager and having to decide between stealing, slinging, and hooking to feed yourself. Do you even know what slinging is?"

Grace ran her hands through her hair, by now no longer expecting the length she once had. These days, it was shorter than Travis's. "Maybe if you quit wallowing in your own misery for just two minutes and take a look around, you'll see just how lucky you are."
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Finally, Travis' working facade cracked.

"Now that's a laugh," Travis said as he continued to work upon the ammo dispenser, putting the finishing touches upon the conveyor pulleys within before screwing the panels back on, watching as Grace arched her brow as he turned and walked towards her. "You acting as if you really knew anything about me from the cursory encounters we've had over the years, I mean. Just how much do you know about me if you really know anything at all, Grace...? I don't recall ever asking for your pity, and I don't think I'd want it.

"I'm not going to explain myself too much at length to you, but let me blunt, Grace," Travis said as he finally allowed his thoughts and emotions to come to a seething boil, stepping forward and practically casting his looming shadow over the convict woman; it was immediately evident to other convicts working nearby with Hyperion crew that Grace had crossed a dangerous threshold. " if you think that my life has been joy and extravagance, violence, wine, women, song, kittens and rainbows, whatever your ignorant mind may think my life has been or could be...? You don't even have a clue as to who I really am, where I've been, what I've done, and what I believe."

On second thought, Travis reasoned, he had just about had enough of Grace's relentless antics; while she may have thought she was trying to cheer him up or build him up by treating him like a child, all she had really done was further aggravate Travis' ire. There was a time to work, and a time to play; for Travis, this was work time. Maybe, she needed to really understand where she really stood with him. Maybe he needed to, for once, be unrestrained, angry, and mean. He'd been trying to follow the "slow to anger" approach, but Grace evidently didn't know where the limit lay and where her knowledge ended and Travis' began.

Travis, for all intents and purposes, was seething.

"Oh, and you're extremely arrogant to think that you do. Who do you think you are, huh...? You think your hardships are the only ones that are bad and somehow worse than mine...? You think growing up with a father in the grave and a violent, alcoholic mother isn't just as much of a broken home...? I practically had to raise myself with a Bible, my friend's family and my wits on the streets; and by the grace of God, I somehow was able to get good grades, get into the Marines and find a way to actually live my life. I had to work to feed myself doing odd-jobs as a teen because mom would spend all the money on making love with a bottle and her couch, when she wasn't cursing me out or chasing me out of the house with broken glass. CPS wasn't there to help me in that city. I've spent my fair share of nights on the street, too, so don't even go there."

The two were starting draw a crowd, and Travis could sense it from the corners of his peripheral vision. Taking a breath to compose his breathing and control the rising boil of his anger, Travis moved away from Grace to allow her a moment to step away, if she would so choose.

"Look, I know that I've been given plenty of blessings at this point in my life, Grace; but what aggravates me is people like you who assume that I don't know what it is to actually suffer, scrimp, scrape or make hard choices. Do you really think your choices and the things you had to do were somehow hard and mine were not or somehow easier...? I sure hope you aren't implying that, Grace, because I can prove you to be a liar in a heartbeat. I am well aware of what an obligation looks like; what I am struggling with is something called 'conscience'; maybe you've heard of it...? I mean, is it really a bad thing to consider that," Travis performed a mocking gasp,"I shouldn't just shoot somebody dead because I can...? I'm not so sure you have a conscience sometimes, given they way you talk and behave; you keep making excuses for your behavior and your actions by claiming that it's justified in some way, when in reality it isn't.

"Oh, and for the record...?" Travis narrowed his eyes into a snarl and reached into his tool-belt, grasping for another miscellaneous tool that he wasn't even sure Grace could pronounce the name of. "I do, in fact, know what slinging is, if you mean 'selling drugs'; I grew up in Atlantic City, do you really think I don't know what that means...? I wasn't exactly living in the uptown after dad died. Now, unless you have something else incredibly stupid and ignorant to say, I would suggest you don't attempt to lecture me on things that you know nothing about. I don't really complain about all I've faced,; you're more of a stranger to me than you think, Grace.

"Now then," Travis said, stepping back, the nearby crown dissipating and returning to their duties with temporary entertainment ended; after venting his anger, he seemed remarkably calmer and much more collected, more like his usual self. "Let's get back to work; we've got work to do on this level, and then we need to head down and help Chief Engineer Swann maintain one of the port batteries. You game to do this, or what...?"

The unsaid part of Travis' sentence was "or would you like to go back to your cell, because I don't necessarily need you", but he refrained from saying this; part of him wanted to give Grace a chance to show who she really was, though Travis suspected she would simply claim his was being "stupid" or "thick" or "whiny" or some other biting or petty retort she could throw at him. At this point, Travis didn't care; he wasn't even sure if he should value Grace's opinion at all.
Edited by Deadly Aim, Sep 21 2015, 12:47 AM.
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((I'm not 100% happy with this, but I've been working on it for two weeks, so no use dragging it out further. DA, if you like, we can talk about this before you respond, cause I do think there's lots of room for improvement))

Grace held Travis's gaze throughout his whole tirade, her eyes like daggers, unwavering even as he unleashed his rage upon her.

"At least you knew your father," she said, her voice much more subdued, but losing none of it's sharp edge. "You have memories of a happier time. I don't even have that. I never met my father. I don't know if he's dead, I don't know if he's alive. Never saw a picture of him, never even knew his name. My mom didn't want me to go looking for him. Said it was better that I not know."

Like so many other things, Grace didn't provide much more detail than that. Most of that was old habit. A pattern of secrecy drilled into her from the time she was a small child.

"So you spent some nights on the street huh? Pretty rough, ain't it? Try doing that for two solid years. Try spending your whole life on the run, hiding out for reasons you don't fully understand."

Once again, she didn't explain. Then again, she'd never fully explained any of this to those closest to her, either. Not Jimmy, not Nick and Ronnie, not even Henry. All they knew was that she'd been born to a mother who constantly feared for her own life and taught her daughter all manner of skills necessary to survive in the darkest corners of the universe.

"You know what really amazes me about you? You say you've been there, that you know what it's like out there in the cold, cruel world, and yet you can't even muster a drop of empathy for someone who's even more desperate than you. All you know how do to is sit up there on your high horse and wag your finger cause they didn't do it the right way. Well, I hate to break it to you, but not everybody can be as pure and perfect as you. Some of us have to actually get our hands dirty. Not because we want to, not cause we think it's a cheap thrill, but because that's what it takes to survive.

"Everything I have - everything - good and bad, I got because I broke the law. I found someone to take me in off the streets cause I snatched his wallet, and he just happened to be an Irish mob boss. And you know how he enrolled me in high school? By forging adoption papers, paying bribes and blackmailing a bishop. So yeah, I eventually got a good home and a good education, but I had to do it the hard way.

"Are you proud of everything you've done? Of what went down the other day? No, I can't imagine you are. But you did what was necessary, just like I did. Yeah, it sucks, doesn't it? Well, welcome to the Dark Side, young Jedi.

"I'm not gonna apologize for the choices I've made, Travis," she said. "A lot of it wasn't pretty. And I can't say I'm proud of everything I've done. But I did what I had to do. I know you don't approve. I really don't give a shit. Cause when you're out on the streets, and you're a girl, you just don't have the same options. I'm glad you were able to take odd jobs to feed yourself, but there's only one thing people wanna hire a homeless girl for, and I wasn't about to do that. So I decided to steal for a living, so I wouldn't have to become a twelve year old hooker. I like to think I made the right decision.

"But I know so many girls who weren't so lucky. They didn't have the skills to fend for themselves. But like me, they did what what was necessary, no matter how shameful and degrading it was. And I watched some of them step into someone's car, never to be seen again." She stared him down with extra venom, even as her eyes were beginning to water at the memory. She'd lost a lot of friends out there on the streets. "Not that you care. After all, they were just criminals. Buncha filthy whores. Probably got what they deserved. Shoulda made better choices, right?"

She shook her head at him, tears now streaming down her face, finally breaking her stare to light a cigarette. Then she angrily handed him the next tool he needed, without him having to ask for it.
Edited by The Boss, Oct 1 2015, 07:08 PM.
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