"Great! Thank you, Ms. Blackwell." Frosty rubbed his hands in anticipation that his starfighter may receive a deadly makeover.
[QUOTE]"Great! Thank you, Ms. Blackwell."[/QUOTE]
"Please, call me Valkyrie." she said. Ms. Blackwell? Sounds [I][B]waaaay[/B][/I] too formal.
[B]...[/B]
"So you deal with weaponry?" asked Taylor, tilting her head a bit as she looked at Maddox. "Got an armory full that needs looking at back on the ship. Might get you to look at my revolver too." she said, patting her holster. "Considering upgrading to a higher caliber. Or possibly up to one of those new railgun setups for it."
She had heard through a few channels about new railgun-style revolvers hitting the market. Some even came with explosive ammunition! Hell of a lot of bang for your buck. A true handcannon.
"So the ship's called the 'Muramasa'?"
"That's right," Rask answered. "It's some kind of cursed, blood-seeking sword, 'cording to human superstition apparently. We kanads don't believe in that zhuka ([I]nonsense[/I]). But hey, it's kind of fitting in an adolescent kind of way, keh."
Maddox looked at Rask. "I can disassemble and reassemble any weapon in one minute."
Rask nodded. "That'll be good for bar bets," he said sarcastically.
---
Yanim was splayed out on a couch in one of Prospera's most luxurious and exclusive clubs, which she had gained access to by bribing the doorman more money than she was willing to admit to. The wailing electro-jazz ensemble of the [I]Penthouse Speakeasy[/I] were urging her to cut loose and enjoy the party, even as she couldn't walk a straight line. Sporting an offbeat grin, she rose to her feet and walked a path of melting colors through a dense crowd of patrons back to the bar, where she had found a local dealer. Looking up and down the polished mahogany, art deco bar table, she didn't see the man who sold her drugs before. Sighing, she reasoned that a drink sounded better.
She looked at the bartender, a short human man with a bald head, crooked nose, wearing a bowtie and suspenders. A button pinned where his lapel would have been read "ask me about the drinks."
"What about the drinks?" Yanim asked, sarcastically.
The bartender smiled and replied, "I can fix you up a nice cocktail, if that's your desire. I can fix up most anything you ask for. You might say... that I'm a bartender."
"Dzekor with vodka," Yanim replied, naming a complicated kanad cocktail that she had grown fond of over the previous two years.
"You got it, little missy. I'll have that right out for you." While the bartender did his work, Yanim looked wistfully toward the window, taking in the blur of neon like a window flower drinks in the sun. She was fried. "Here you go," the man said, placing the drink in front of her.
"Thank you," she said. It was a small, tall glass, and she knew she would be overcharged. Nevertheless, she threw back her head and gulped down the drink as if it were a cheap beer. She set the glass down hard, alerting the bartender that she was already empty. He nodded at her from further up the table, having already gotten busy serving another patron. Her eyes wondered again, this time fixating on the massive fish tank which adorned one whole side of the room. Inside, a host of tropical fish swirled around beautiful sculptures of old, forgotten Chicago landmarks. In the center of it all was a metallic, detailed statue of a well-muscled human male, striking a dramatic, flexing pose.
"You like the statue, do ya?" the bartender asked. Yanim hadn't seen him approach.
"It's quite an artwork," Yanim replied. "The detail is perfect."
"It sure is," the barman said as he placed another cocktail in front of the kanad. "You know, it's almost [I]too[/I] perfect."
"What do you mean?"
The bartender chuckled. "You didn't hear it from me, but that there was a real, livin' man at one time." Yanim looked at him skeptically. "You must know about the Mafia," he said, more quietly. "They can disappear a man for sayin' all the wrong things..."
"But, he's right over there," Yanim replied. "How is that 'disappearing?'"
The bartender leaned in closer speaking even more quietly, "but that's the point, they hid him in plain sight. Everyone think's it's just a statue. You might say... that they can't tell the difference."
Yanim blinked. "Why couldn't they just shoot him?"
The barman shook his head. "Tsk tsk, don't get hysterical on me, now. That ain't the Mafia's style." He then leaned in closer, so close that Yanim was now leaning backwards on her barstool. The bartender was speaking so quietly now that she could barely hear him over the music. The other patrons were getting angry that he wasn't serving their drinks. "See, the Mafia's all about class, dear. And killin' a man with just a bullet ain't no classy way to die. They're imitators, payin' tribute to the gangsters of old. Pinstripe suits and all that, belt buckles up to here," he said, thumping his chest with the side of his hand. "When they disappear a man, they make 'em [I]sleep with the fishes.[/I] Do you realize how hard it is to make a man sleep with the fishes on a planet without water n' fish? Hell, it took over a million credits just to have the goddamn gravel shipped in for that fish tank o'er there."
"Did you build that whole tank just to put a dead man on display in statue form?" Yanim replied, more entertained than anything else.
"It's thirty thousand gallons..." the bartender said. "We went through a lot of trouble making sure he'd fit. You might say... that he was a large man and required lots of room." He then went back to serving drinks, while Yanim got up from her stool and walked over to the glass to get a better look.
"So who was he?" she asked, trying to force her dilated eyes to focus on the unknown man's face.
"Hey, I don't know nothin' about nobody. Your guess is as good as mine. You might say... that his name was Derrek 'Sledge' Hammer and that he was a formidable champion of a street thug, making most of his living through bloodsport. His nickname coming from his preferred weapon of choice, Sledge paved his way to notoriety with shattered bones and bruised organs. After unknowingly striking down a member of his city's organized crime syndicate, Sledge had fled from planet to planet to throw the mafiosos off his trail, eventually arriving at Rigel. Growing anxious, Sledge was looking for any reason to put more distance between himself and his pursuers..."
"Then how'd he end up in this tank!?" Yanim cried out, coming to the horrific realization that he was someone she knew.
The bartender shrugged. "Don't know nothin' about no one. Far be it from me to say that he walked right in here and ordered a drink in front of the Don. But, uh, you might say..."
"...that he came in here and ordered a drink?" Yanim snapped.
"Somethin' like that," the barman said. "And hey, it's none of my business, but that man is practically unkillable. Nanites in his blood, and all that, keepin' him fresh inside like a cellophane wrap around a salami. You know, if you dipped a salami in hot lead and dropped it in a fish tank. But so long as he's in there and we're out here, you might say... that this was a practical solution to a difficult conundrum."
"He's alive in there!?" Yanim was practically screaming, incredulously.
The barman pursed his lips and held up his hands, the classic "I ain't sayin' nothin" pose. Yanim turned back to the statue in horror, and pressed her ear up to the glass. Muffled screaming could be heard from inside.
---
Rask's mobile chimed again. "Oh hey, message from the Boss."
[quote]Get up the FUKCING Penhouse Speakeassy and HEP me get Slege out of this FISHTANK[/quote]
Rask grimaced. "Yeah, she's tripping hard. I'll go up and check on her. The rest of you, could you take our new recruits back to the ship. Neasha can catch them up on the mission."
((Patched things up, y'all))
(( Friendship Regain With Sega Saturn
Now Sega Saturn & enigmarage Both are My best Friends ))
Abrax pulled the handle once more as many not just many but at least dozens of patrons watched closely to see him make the same results for the last hour. Three 7s. The crowd was utterly shocked at the change in scene and the Old Man, tip danced, slapping Abrax on the shoulder. "See sonny? We got some spirit in all of us! For you, you might just be the biggest one out of the casino! Your wife must be proud!" He exaggerated while Abrax stared at him. Nodding. The Old Man clasped his hands and continued to watch as it seemed like the entire audience was watching.
...
Abrax and Anna moved a few boxes and items, hauling them over together as the Malmar's sun hover above the atmosphere. Abrax wiped Anna's forehead, removing the sweat with ease and breathed deeply, the air inhaled without a respirator. He gave a reassuring smile, as did she. Both looked and stared. Abrax pressed his arm over Anna's right shoulder.
"Well, your Father's blessing is good to have." Abrax said as he chuckled.
"It took guts, but he'll know it's my choice." Anna held his arm over her shoulder gently. Abrax gave a slight kiss on Anna's cheek. She laughed and returned the kiss. The house they bought was just enough to live a life of two Malmarians. Together after decades. He held her hand tightly and dragged her all the way and gestured her like a true gentleman. "Your new house awaits M'lady." Abraxas said.
"Don't mind if I do Sir Abrax." She bowed down and leaned forward, inserting the key and twisting it sideways. The hard crafted door opened to reveal an empty corridor, plastered in ceramic wall tiles. Anna nodded and observed the place inch by inch, seeing the interior of their new home.
But deep inside she felt, something. Whatever it was it wasn't positive. Her smile turned upside down and into a frown. "I...Abrax, how much did you pay for this house?" She asked, turning around and looking at him. Abrax was still smiling and wanted to spill the entire beans. "Well you see, I sorta wanted quality so we could live well off and show off. I mean we're living it off babe! Higher middle class now."
"I get that, but how much was all this?"
"It's just another ten grand-"
"Ten grand?! Abrax, that's too much money. How did you even argh!" She gritted her teeth, urging to slap him but couldn't. "I got a loan, you said you wanted an house I got one for ourselves!" He gestured outwards.
"I didn't ask for a high quality house so we can show off, so we can live on. Isn't that what you told me before that it didn't matter on what class we were?" She questioned him, Abrax stood quietly, scratching the back of his head and trying to think. Pretending to listen.
"Come on, Anna, your Father is going to be proud of me. I'm willing to do anything I can to provide his daughter a nice house to live in." Abrax assured but Anna gestured outwards intensely, confused.
"This isn't about getting all these nice things just so you can please my family. Look." She said, walking forward and staring at Abrax's eyes. Abrax gave a deep sighed and followed through. She nodded. "This is about us, not anyone else." Shaking her head and sighed herself. She cupped his face and move to the couch already in place, landing on it. Abraxas stood still until he was tired of being hysterical for once. "I'm sorry."
"We'll make this house work. Somehow. Right now let's just enjoy the good things for a little while. I'll be honest you're right, this isn't bad a place to live in." Anna said while she rolled over and looked upwards towards Abrax.
"Scoot over hon." Abrax gestured as Anna raised an eyebrow, curving her lips as he gave out an order. "Is that an order?"
"The highest order a soldier can give out." Abrax answered, pulling out a smile as he migrated to the couch. They both saw a remote on the table, reaching out all the way from the couch Abrax pressed a few buttons and activated the Holovision. "Anything particular?"
"Hmmm... Noire."
"Good choice."
Owen looked at the roster again. The name "Son of the South" caused a feeling of anger to overtake him. At this stage in the game, he didn't care if the "Son of the South" wasn't their target for the race fixing or not, he was NOT winning this race if Owen had any say so. In fact, Owen specifically stopped watching the F-Max series because of him.
Frustrated at the news, Owen went to the [I]Penthouse Speakeasy[/I] to see if he could finally get a drink, and one he actually ordered. The doorman stopped Owen, "Darn it, one of the few times I wish people knew who I was" Owen thought.
"Why should I let you in?" the doorman growled. Owen frantically searched for an answer, "Um, I don't actually want in, but you should know that El Diablo is around the corner taking autographs." Owen replied.
Owen:
CH Estimate: 4/5
[B]Actual: 5[/B]
Roll Passed.
The doorman's eyes lit up. "El Diablo's here? He wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow. This is great, I was supposed to be off tomorrow, and it would have been weird for me to come in looking for an autograph..." His voice trailed off as he wandered away from the doorway. A small line of about a dozen people quickly rushed through the unguarded door, and Owen slipped in behind them.
Owen made his way to the bar, "Hey, Barman! Beer on the rocks if you would."
As Rask walked off towards the club Yanim was in, the rag tag group followed Neasha back to the ship.
Markus ran up to Neasha and grabbed her by the shoulder as he kept walking
"So, if ya don't mind me askin, our first mission with ya is gonna 'ave somethin to do with the mafia? And on top of that our so called boss is a fuckin slag whos at some club been so jackdd that 'er brain is leaking out 'er eyesockets while ravin bout gettin a bloke out of a bloody fish tank?
Markus observed Neasha, who with an air of professionlism remained quiet with her focus directed forwards.
"Startin to seem to me that yer runnin a right dodgy setup with all the wrong kinds of management."
As the day drew on, the GRIZZ recruiters proceed to change shifts, leaving the post momentarily empty.
The replacement eventually came and resumed the post, signing deeply after setting everything up at the lack of suitable recruits at display.
Unusually, he stood in full drop-shock power armor. Helmet and all, making him stand just a little over a 243cm.
Disappointed yet again as he looked over what seemed to be more washed out street punks with little showing any potential for quality mercenary work.
There's was an small gang gathering around table that he begin to fixate on, one looked to even be former SDF if his memory served him right.
But as his visor updated, it stated that there we're all freelancers. Not looking direct contact work unfortunately.
Again, he let out another sign before noticing a rather odd gang of humans and alien enter the building.
He looked on, defeated as they talked to one another.
However, as he stared at what could of been. The visor again updated and shown the name. "Terika-Belladonna Company."
He started thinking back hard, where did he know that name?
And now thinking about it, that Kanad in font looked sightly familiar.
Or at least the one that looked female, almost as he seen her before very briefly through.
Wait...
Shit. He thought to himself for an moment.
"Hey, you folk..." He said while realizing that freelancers had already left the door several minutes prior.
He looked for a moment or two.
"Well...Shit." He muttered under his breath before returning to his post.
The bartender set a root beer in front of Owen, winked at him, and then returned to helping other customers.
--
"Who are you to judge? She's a billionaire, and made millionaires out of Rask and me," Neasha replied stoically to Markus' verbal assault. "And yes, we're planning to humble the Mafia. We aren't afraid; we've extorted large settlements out of similar syndicates in the past. State Security is terrified of us. If you don't believe us, simply watch and wait- usually, when Yanim says something will happen, it'll happen." After a moment of quiet in which Neasha stared Markus down, albeit without hostility, Markus released her shoulder. A moment later, they had reached the ship, and the new crewmembers could see the sleek body of the Muramasa up close. "Shall we?" Neasha asked as she stepped up the ramp.
((I'm spent for the night))
Owen frowned as he looked at his drink, it seemed the universe conspired to ensure that no matter his order, he would never get it. "How much do they pay you?" he asked the bartender.
"So....Mr. Rock...Where are...Uh." The diver nervous asked, tripping on his words. Going down the highways of the outer Prospera skylines at just a little over legal speeds.
Jag gave him one stare look, looking through the weak and adolescent soft-carbon. Making sure that he paid his absolute attention towards the road.
Afterwards, Jag then prepared to look over the city below as dusk came to this city of sin and vice.
It started to think about it's crew, wondering they would stray loyal if they knew about the bounty.
And the others would soon come to collect their payment themselves through Jag's fellow crew members.
As they can be quite unreasonable at times in transactions, in fact if the other original party knew...
Jag decided it would be best to warn them or at least it's fellow freelancer that seems to be the most competent of the crew.
[QUOTE]Freelancer Taylor, I'm sorry to dispute you but there's something fairly important that you may need to know.
I'll keep it short and spare you of the details but if someone in checkered suit with bad hair due comes stiffing around.
Keep your eyes on them and your hand on the holster.
Same goes for anyone packing a respirator along with think shaded googles.
I'll explain this all much more clearly in due time after I take care of something.
Should be seeing you again when needed for the event.
Going offline for awhile, Jag out.
From-Freelancer Jag
To-Freelancer Caine[/QUOTE]
Jag sent the massage through the Muramasa datalink just before disconnecting it's implant.
Markus looked back at Neasha, nodding to her explanation of the situation. He walked up the ramp and followed the small signs that lead to the crew quarters. He picked a room that was empty closed the door.
Well inside he threw threw his dufflebag next to the locker and put his rifle against the wall. He took of his jacket and facemask and threw them in a corner of the room where they'd be least in the way.
Under his rugged clothing wasn't an exactly refined man either. All though he seemed a bit fat, one could not miss the muscles that lay beneath his exterior. On top of a thick neck sat a weatherbeaten face with short hair and a full beard. His dirty tanktop added to his disheveled image.
Whilst waiting for the meeting about the plan could take place, he decided to do some shadow boxing whilst waiting.
There was no way in the world he'd lay down to sleep in a ship he had just boarded with people he didn't know.
[Off for the night as well. Leaving Yuga abd Markus as NPC. Treat them with care]
Taylor paused outside of the Muramasa, after feeling the holo-tablet in her pocket vibrate. She pulled it out and checked it. A message from Jag? She opened it and read it.
[QUOTE]Freelancer Taylor, I'm sorry to dispute you but there's something fairly important that you may need to know.
I'll keep it short and spare you of the details but if someone in checkered suit with bad hair due comes stiffing around.
Keep your eyes on them and your hand on the holster.
Same goes for anyone packing a respirator along with think shaded googles.
I'll explain this all much more clearly in due time after I take care of something.
Should be seeing you again when needed for the event.
Going offline for awhile, Jag out.[/QUOTE]
What had Jag got himself into? She glanced over it again, before looking up at the others boarding the Muramasa. She looked around, then turned off the holo-tablet, slipping it back into her pocket. She needed to do some shopping. "Hey, Valk." she said, calling after Valkyrie whom was walking up the ramp with bags in hand. "Yeah?" she said, turning around and giving Taylor a look.
"If anyone asks, I went shopping." she said, before turning and walking back into the city. Valkyrie watched her walk away, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, whatever." she said, before continuing into the Muramasa.
Inside, she found Frosty again, and asked him a single question. "Which room is Taylor's? Because I want to be as far from it as possible."
[B]...[/B]
Taylor found an Arms & Armor dealer a few blocks down from the stardock, and slipped in. Inside, mercs. dozens of them. Of course there'd be mercs here. This place was the third best place to find mercs, besides a bar or the recruitment office. She started snooping around, looking at the weaponry on sale as well as chatting with a few mercs about the race. Good time as any to start snooping around about that racer they were after.
Finally, she approached the store's owner, who was standing behind a large plate of bullet resistant glass...and a chain link fence. "Excuse me, would you happen to have any Extreme/Hostile Environment suits? Military grade, built-in exosuit and shock absorbers, EVA capable?"
"This one, I think. I remember I passed by and I saw that she was doing exercises in it." Frosty pointed towards the first room, nearest to the entrance to the Crew Quarters. "The door is unlocked, however. I have no idea why."
After an long days work of shooing off the want kids and over confident street punks to other recruiters. The GRIZZ recruiter had finally finished his shift rather early and with a paycheck in hand.
He decided to pay old bill another visit, the friendly neighborhood arms and armor dealer for some replacement parts for the servos of the Drop-Shock suit, A heavy set of very old power armor the SDF used to use when ballistic weaponry was common place.
He wore the rather bulky and cumbersome armor today and yesterday, and the day before that...Almost if lived in it or something, nobody really asks through.
The recruiter entered the store, bowing his head like usual so he didn't smash through the doorway like the last time.
He stood in like behind what he assumed to be a freelancer taking a quick stop in town to pick some new gear.
[quote]"Excuse me, would you happen to have any Extreme/Hostile Environment suits? Military grade, built-in exosuit and shock absorbers, EVA capable?" [/quote]
"huh." He thought to himself as he waited patiently in line behind her.
Maddox entered the ship and choose a room next to Markus's. It was a bit smaller than the rest but it also housed a reinforced locker, perfect for storing his own personal arsenal.
After unpacking most of his stuff, including setting up the banner of the SDF Auxiliary Corps on the wall, Maddox went to the armory.
He sighed and smiled. The armory itself was spacious and it did have a workbench. The current arsenal lined up alongside one of the walls had been properly organized by someone beforehand even though a good portion of the weapons would be of limited use due to their age.
Maddox unpacked his tools and got to work.
[Second character is as follows
Name: Hariim M'baal
Picture or Physical Description: [IMG]http://i.imgur.com/KK4OeF4m.jpg[/IMG]
Birthdate: April 1st, 2345
Race: Human
Profession: Combat Technician
Bio: Hariim grew up in, around, and with computers in the asteroid belts his family mined. He was programming by the age of 8, and had a job as a bugfixer by the time he was 10. He spent his childhood and adolescence working and playing on the ships his parents worked on. When he turned 18, he chose to enlist in the navy, and was quickly assigned to the marines division as a Combat Technician. For two years he followed his squad through combat, gaining experience and carrying out his orders. But on one crucial mission, he took a shot to the head. He woke up two weeks later with a cybernetics package replacing the eye and grey matter he lost, and a datajack cleanly concealed in the side of his head. He got better. Every few years he'd pick up a new cybernetic modification, or a replacement for an older model. On and on he continued modifying himself till he got his honorable discharge.
Now he serves as a mercenary. A hacker that can break mainframes, or slice his way into encrypted communications to spy on enemy plans and movements. He's a meticulous and clinical fighter. And He's just gotten a call from an android that could use somebody with his skills.
Special Skills or Attributes: Polycomputational (Capable of integrating with and operating computer systems seamlessly.)
(( Well since flashbacks are a thing, I thought I might try my hand at one. ))
[quote]A long time ago, on Earth...[/quote]
"Isn't it beautiful?"
Two men, one wearing a white tunic, the other a black one, were watching a river from a small cliff.
"Isn't it beautiful, my child?" Said the one in the black tunic. "You know, when God created this land, he truly did intend for it to be heaven on earth."
"..." The one in white stayed silent.
"Is something the matter?"
"...How could you say this? The land is beautiful, true, but the people who inhabit it are uglier than Sheytann." The one in white finally spoke. "If it were truly heaven on earth, we would see our brothers preaching our word freely on every street corner, families attending our worship centers, and the world celebrating us instead of whatever idol of the week they raise up."
The one in black shook his head and sighed. "You know, it's thinking like that which is making the rest of this world afraid of us. If the people knew we came to conquer them, we would surely be destroyed. Their leaders made that [I]very [/I]clear. It's because of that, we cannot cross this river into the other parts of this land."
"What's keeping us from crossing this river is our indecision." Snapped the one in white. "I just don't understand it, Father. We have the power to crush these kuffar, we have the ability to conquer this world and make it ours. Our religion and ways have subjugated their people that live in our part of their land, and our technology is far more advanced than theirs, as they were fools to enslave us to develop it for themselves anyway."
"I just don't understand it. Why is it taking forever to do what we can do within one year at the very most?"
The one in black stared deep into the one in white's eyes. "Because not doing it is the right thing to do. We've caused enough death and destruction, anything else that happens after is just unnecessary chaos. I myself am tired of fighting, and I think it's about time we stop all the violence, and try to know what living is like."
The one in white opened his mouth as if to prepare an angry retort, but realized it was not his place to do so, instead he remained quiet.
"Come, Chemosh. Let us savor this life we have earned. The park exit is not too far from here..."
[QUOTE]"This one, I think. I remember I passed by and I saw that she was doing exercises in it." Frosty pointed towards the first room, nearest to the entrance to the Crew Quarters. "The door is unlocked, however. I have no idea why."[/QUOTE]
"Thanks. I'll take a look at your fighter after I get settled in." she said, as she walked towards the far end of the crew quarters. She strolled down the hall, before turning into the very last room. Empty. Perfect! She tossed her bags on the floor next to the bed, and slipped her jacket off. She tossed it on the bed after pulling her holo-tablet from it and slipping it into the back pocket of her pants.
She stood there in a grey muscle shirt, showing off most of her upper body tats, and blue denim pants she had purchased from some old lady on Terra. She had heard that these 'jeans' were really rare nowadays, so she tried her best to keep them clean and undamaged. On her feet, military grade war boots. Combat boots, with metal shinguards and ankle guards built onto them. Durable. Could stop most types of ballistic and kinetic ammunition (unless high caliber), and were pretty damn comfortable as they flexed in just the right spots.
She reached down and grabbed one of her bags, lifting it up and setting it on her bed. She unzipped it, and peered inside. Dozens of tools, most related to robotics work or engineering tasks. She nodded to herself. Good. Everything's there. She ran a hand through her hair, then zipped the bag back up before heading back out into the hallway.
"Alright, big guy. Lets check out the inside of your fighter." she said, walking back down to where Frosty was.
"It's just up here, through this access panel."
Frosty led Valkyrie into his Voidwalker. It was cramped, but he tried his best to show her around the cockpit, telling her which monitor did what and which button did that. The monitor with the strange symbols on it flashed again momentarily, Frosty still having no clue what it meant.
"Tell me, what do you make of this? It's alright if you believe it's ancient. I myself have no idea how old any of this stuff is anyway."
[QUOTE]"Tell me, what do you make of this? It's alright if you believe it's ancient. I myself have no idea how old any of this stuff is anyway."[/QUOTE]
"You're right. It IS ancient." she muttered as she slipped by him into the pilot's seat. She looked everything over, studying the control panel before her as well as the monitors and gauges around her. Ancient, but pretty damn advanced. She had seen some bits and pieces of ships like this while out and about with some of her pirate brethren, but it was just bits and pieces. Not a whole ship. It was still a mystery to her.
"Gonna need to study it a bit, with some help from the other engineers on board. We'll be able to enhance it, but it'll take time as we need to figure this shit out." she said, her eyes darting about as she looked around. "...the seat is pretty comfy. Leather?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. Still, I feel like I should mention this. My starfighter and I were found frozen by the Muramasa crew not too long ago actually. They thawed me out, but the only things I can remember prior to that is this fighter, which I named the 'Voidwalker', and how good I was at flying it. Speaking of which, I know the details of my Voidwalker too, all of it's specifications and everything. I feel that if you are going to work on it, you might as well know just what it is you are working with here."
Maddox smiled as he crossed his arms. Infront of him on the table were several groups of pieces from various weapons. He had gone through the armory and stripped down at least a dozen weapons entirely as they were not owned by anyone and had limited use in the field.
While he didn't have the resources to begin manufacturing some high-grade weapons most of the pieces infront of him could be turned into kinetic weaponry.
He grunted. That other SDF veteran seemed to be carrying ballistic weapon which was interesting, seeing as it was mostly obsolete these days.
The majority of armors used offered moderate if not complete protection from ballistic weapons which them useless against targets not armored with kevlar or other alien counterparts.
He nodded his head. They could however still be lethal if the bullets pierced armor, lead-poisoning was a horrible way to die.
With a click Maddox had finished his first weapon, a kinetic rifle. He loaded a powercell from a laser rifle and took aim, firing off a bright orange-white shot from his chair all the way into a practice target on the other side of the room.
The shot had left a hole in the head of the target.
Maddox smiled and ejected the powercell before putting down the rifle on the workbench.
He moved on.
[QUOTE]"...Speaking of which, I know the details of my Voidwalker too, all of it's specifications and everything. I feel that if you are going to work on it, you might as well know just what it is you are working with here."[/QUOTE]
"Good. Tell me as much as you can about it." she said, looking back at him. This was going to make things SO much easier for her.
Frosty spoke of the capabilities of his vessel.
- A warp drive he emphasized not to even touch as the Voidwalker kept warning it was faulty.
- Anti-Gravity propulsion device which allows his starfighter to hover and levitate whether in place, or while moving in any direction.
- Intercom speakers which let him yell out things to people below. Also can be used to play music.
- Defensive capabilities include three pairs of re-purposed mining lasers, and four missiles. He explained that they can be swapped out for other things, though.
- Headlights on the front, with degrees of brightness.
- Afterburners to travel at high speeds.
- The access tunnel behind the cockpit seat which can also double as a small storage compartment.
- Cup holders to hold his 7/11 [B]BIG GULP[/B].
(( For the record, are these specifications alright? ))
Valkyrie nodded along as he explained everything. Oh, those speakers are gonna see a lot of use when she works on it. She grinned at the thought, then chuckled at the cup holders.
"Fucking cup holders?" she said, laughing. "Fantastic!"
((Hey guys I finally got around to this, mind if i create a character?))
[Did you miss the big letters in the OP that say, never too late to join?]
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