SS Iscariot - Episode 1: New Beginnings

Started by Lomari, February 22, 2019, 07:54:44 AM

Lomari

Location: Sector 3

Eyes watched every move the trio made on their way through the station. A few giggled at the obvious display of their sexual proclivities, but more often than not the glances in their direction were of either distrust or devious curiosity. Their every move was reported back to this thug or that, as was the case with most new faces that came to visit. In the eyes of Iscariot, everyone was either predator or prey, and until they knew which this group turned out to be, they'd be watched accordingly.

Inside Mohammad's shop, the drapes and fanciful fabrics hung in the windows blocked the off from most onlookers, but they were never entirely hidden. Just outside his building and across the street was a public cortex station, accessed via credits that one could purchase from just about any shop on Iscariot. A small mule rolled past the door, hiccupping and coughing up a small puff of smoke as it moved on by.

A man with a leather patch over his left eye and hair braided wildly walked to the entrance of the shop and peeked in curiously, far enough to not be completely obvious but clearly look for or at the strangers. When it was confirmed that they were in there still, he turned on his heel and walked across the walkway to the cortex station, leaning against it with forced nonchalance.
CHARACTERS
Charity ~ Melody ~ Tabitha


NARRATION
Darling ~ Iscariot

noseatbelts

Location: Sector 3

With a smile that caught like a cold, that is to say, infectious, Mohammed clapped his hands twice in quick succession. "Of course, of course my friend. We have many many shoes. Any shoe you could want, my friend. You wish it, and I make it so." The claps reverberated throughout the store and seemed to signal a rustling in the back. Three small children, none older than 10, appeared, each's arms loaded up with shoe boxes. The children dutifully deposited them at the feet of the shop's patrons, and then disappeared back into the back. They quickly returned with more boxes and repeated this several times. Soon, Holger, Missy, and Jo were surrounded by boxes.

Within the boxes were shoes of every sort and size and color you could imagine... except for that which Holger had requested. There seemed to be a dearth of any work shoes at all. These seemed to be all formal or casual wear. "If you do not see that which you seek, I can order them no problem." Mohammed snapped his fingers, and another child appeared from beneath a table and began undoing Holger's shoe laces. More small hands reached for Missy's and Jo's as well.

Izak Archer

Location: Docks:

The maintenance crew appeared with what one could only describe as a cloud of caution. It was pretty obvious what the ship looked like.

But what their ship actually was? Much less so and this was exactly how they wanted it.
The woman in charge of the dock crew however, was all business, and did not mask it in the slightest. As she arrived her employees began working with a degree of begrudging efficiency that allowed the process to move swiftly. All she needed was the payment for the supplies and maintenance.

Izak turned to address her request. "I guess you're looking for me, but I have to know, are you a cash only operation? I may have to call the captain if you are, she's out and about."

Holger Heyerdahl

Location: Sector 3

Holger gestured to the band of brats surrounding his feet, "See to me no hands are good." He said, dragging Missy over to a nearby chair and allowing himself a sit. Unfortunately there was no other chair nearby, so the doctor would have to remain standing. That is, unless, she wanted to plop down on the floor. The children scurried and scampered, obviously well-practiced in their movements. They removed Holger's current shoes and disappeared them, to no protest from the ginger giant. He had already decided he was done with them. There was no going back. The children then held up various pairs of shoes to determine his size and fit, each touch to his bare foot prompting a slight grin. "It irritates me!" At one such touch, he threw his head back and laughed. The sight of a posse of progeny tickling the feet of a bearded brute must have been something to behold, indeed.

"Doctor see, no worry to my head am I. The shoes I find for perfect fit. I will like them, and then we go. Shoes for maybe you? Things of other kinds?" He gestured to the rest of the store, full of odds and ends, with the hand attached to Missy's, which in turn, forced her to gesture as well. Holger smiled, helpfully.
Dialogue Color - Orange

Lomari

Location: Perimeter

Shuttles and smaller vessels alike lines up parallel to the rings of Iscariot, pilots peering out windows and port holes to eye their competition on either side of them. Leon had taken up a spot in the middle of the pack. Thrusters fired softly, keeping the ships in line and preventing them from bumping up against one another accidentally. Above the rings of Iscariot, the Dome was now visible to the racers. A glass half circle containing what appeared to be a lush park, an indoor and outdoor café, and plenty of interested viewers gathered to watch and bet on the race.

There was a crackle in the comms of the ships before a voice made its way through. "Racers. As you know, there will be no intentional violence on your parts, any attempts to incapacitate each other in such a way will lead to disqualification. You're to make three full laps around the rings, ending where you started. No taking short cuts, no going under or over the station. You remain parallel to the rings," he recited, sounding a little bored with the official part of his duties. "Now, on your mark," he began, pausing to give the shuttles time to line up with one another. "Get set." Engines flared up, hands tightened around controls, fingers poised over buttons. Leon looked out of the window of his ship, grinning like an idiot who thought he'd already won.

"Go!" the man shouted, accompanied by what sounded like synthesized gunfire.
Like a bat out of hell, Leon's vessel ripped forward, the metal around his engines burning red as the thrusters were put to work. The rest of the ships pushed hard to follow after him. For now, it seemed to be a fair and innocent race.

Location: Docks

A commotion rang through the docks as onlookers who'd been desperate to see the racers boarding their ships made their way back through the station, heading up for the Hub. They'd have to hurry if they didn't want to miss anything. Blissfully, a man with a voice for radio reminiscent of old sepia toned times and charisma to match announced the race over the station's emergency speakers.

"And they're off! Leon is pulling ahead, chrome ship like a star in the dark! The others are struggling to keep up with Leon the Lion!"

The woman standing with Izak at the open cargo ramp looked back toward the dock before shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "No. That would be extraordinarily stupid," she replied. Cash only would make her workers and herself an amazingly easy target for anyone looking to get a nice chunk of change for little to no work. "Have your captain send the credits, ship'll be locked down until it's all paid for," she warned him before holding out her clipboard, "Sign here to acknowledge that you'll pay and that you know what happens if'n you don't," she ordered, eyeing him with stern boredom.
CHARACTERS
Charity ~ Melody ~ Tabitha


NARRATION
Darling ~ Iscariot

Tereza

June 12, 2019, 01:12:48 AM #85 Last Edit: June 18, 2019, 06:04:52 AM by Lomari
Location: Perimeter

“Go!”

It took every ounce of control Tereza had not to dump mass into the reactor of her shuttle and proppel it forward at maximum acceleration. Instead she shunted the throttle to seventy five percent and dove her ship towards the tightest apex one could take around the station rings. A race like this, a pure circle shoot, only one thing mattered. Stamina. Flashy flying aside once the racers sorted themselves out in terms of ship speed, which mattered to a point, they would all dig in and begin screaming their way around their circuit. Due to the ever changing vector of the race the pilots would experience tremendous G forces. It would only take perhaps fifteen to twenty seconds to lap your average station. However, at eight or more G's, most pilots would black out after only half a lap at best. And so the dance began. Pushing your body as hard as you could, taking a tight fast line around the station until you felt yourself faltering then letting off, looping out wide and allowing the G's to fall and blood to make its way back into your brain.

Tereza let the large majority of the other pilots dart ahead of her falling into line about two thirds of the way from the front. Slowly she eased her throttle into afterburner, rolling her ship so the belly faced away from the Iscariot and she began a unending upwards climb. The one time combat pilot began a breathing routine to prepare her body even as the creaking rattle of her ship told her that already the G's were climbing. Not, of course, that Tereza needed the rattle of the rustbucket she flew to tell her how many G's she was beginning to pull. The bio-diagnostics on her suit did that, flashing constant data from her blood pressure to breathing rate. And of course, the fact that her maneuver was steadily increasing the weight of her body and attempting to pool all of her fluids in her feet.

The game was finally on. The real race had begun. And now it was time to separate the wheat from the chaff.
Dark be the sky
Dense be the clouds
Thunders seem to fright
And storm will take the lives
The sun sets and rise
But the cut above will always FLY
-- Ravi Chan

Izak Archer

Location: Docks:

Izak shrugged as she explained when her team did not work with cash. That having been said, he was not surprised at the priority on safety over anonymity. She probably had one of the few legitimate businesses on this station.

"Fair points all-round," he said as he took the clipboard. Which, in true 'old-habits-die-hard fashion', he read from top to bottom, and even checked the reverse side of before signing. Hi signature was a simple one. It was just three large, elegant initials across the bottom of the page. "Done." He turned the clipboard back towards her with the pen clipped at the top. "I'll be staying here while your team gets to work to make sure  no one harasses us or wants a piece of our prize, and I'll also send my boss your routing information. He paused and glanced up at the crew for a moment. "Anything else I would need for that aside from what's already on the document?"

Missy Etheridge

June 13, 2019, 06:22:35 PM #87 Last Edit: June 18, 2019, 06:05:10 AM by Lomari
Location: Sector 3

"Oh, no -- but I -- please don't-- ah--" Missy danced awkwardly in place, trying to keep her favorite heels away from grasping little fingers without actually stepping on anyone's hand. A sudden explosion of noise outside the shop distracted her, and she swiveled like a spooked rabbit while a clamor filled the streets and a tinny, garbled announcer's voice was pumped through the station. A sigh of relief. It was only some kind of sporting event, nothing to do with her or the pirates.

But that moment of distraction was all Holger needed to haul her off her feet again and drag her along with him while her shoes vanished off in the other direction, bobbing aloft on a tide of grubby hands. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself at any rate, babbling nonsense and giggling like a kuángrén. Missy scowled fiercely at him until he turned to look at her -- nearly level with her, in spite of the fact that he was sitting while she stood -- with words of questionable reassurance. She contorted the grimace into a strained grin as he flung her arm around with his.

"Well, it does look like I'll need a new pair of shoes after all. I don't seem to have much choice in that, do I?" She meant the question to come out jokey and light-hearted, but had a rather strong suspicion that it didn't quite manage it.
Dialogue color: Cornflowerblue | 6495ED

Talk less. Smile more.
Never let them know what you're against or what you're for.

Joakim Soong

June 16, 2019, 11:58:48 AM #88 Last Edit: June 16, 2019, 12:25:02 PM by Joakim Soong
Location: Sector 3

Much like Missy, Jo was alarmed by the onslaught of tiny hands grabbing at his worn and well-loved pair of leather boots. Unlike Missy, Jo managed to hold on to his shoes (for now) at the cost of accidentally kicking one of the children while attempting to yank his feet away from them -- not a hard kick, more of a nudge actually, but enough to make him apologize profusely before retreating into the closest thing the store had to a corner. He hated shopping, hated having salespeople approach him and ask him how he was doing and if they could help him and try to coax him into buying a combination hookah and coffee maker when all he needed was some toothpicks. He would order all his things through the cortex if it weren't for the fact that it opened the door to a whole host of different trouble.

The sudden commotion echoing from somewhere on the station made Jo jump as well, but he quickly figured it was the sound of some kind of an event and not a gunfight. Great. Good. This was fine. But only barely. The sooner they got off this station, the better. For now, he pretended to turn his attention to the assorted junk on Mohammed's shelves while still keeping an eye on Missy, Holger and Mohammed himself.
Dialogue color: teal

Lomari

Location: Sector 3

Eyepatch Man flinched and stumbled forward over the laces of his untied boots the moment the station's event began. Hands rose to run over his wildly braided hair in some attempt to make it look as though the wild gesture and clumsy movement had been entirely purposeful.

Inside, Holger had been fitted with a pair of brown formal shoes, the thick laces tied in a bow that looked more like a trap than a decoration in its intricacy. Mohammed grinned at the shopped, hands steepled and body rocking back on his heels. Clearly, he was quite pleased with how things were going here. Two little hands finished shining a pair of knock-off heels that had they been real and sold anywhere else, would have made any sensible customer blush at their price. The children scurried back into their hiding places until it looked, to the unknowing observer, that they hadn't been there at all.

"Is good, yes?" the shop owner asked excitedly, waving his hands toward Holger and Missy's new footwear with a pleasant and expectant look on his warm face.

Location: Perimeter

The new pilot was doing well, and that sort of thing could not be tolerated. Leon's chrome ship was like a streak of silver as it moved around the station, its trail of particles shimmering behind it like a comet's tail. He was all about visible flair, that Leon. He was also all about winning. "Go home," came his voice over the comms system of Tereza's ship, the sound of his order a little strained from the impact of the g-force on his own body. A couple ships had already dropped out of the race, drifting on the 'track' as manned obstacles while their pilots shook off the vertigo and tunnel vision. Another ship was staying remarkably close to the newbie's, and it seemed as though it was matching her maneuvers too purposefully.

Up in the Café, Melody and Pete watched the racers blast around the perimeter of the station, one of them with childlike interest and the other with some semblance of calm, subdued curiosity. She'd placed a bet on the newbie, although she couldn't decide if it was because she was one of the few women piloting in the race or if she just loved herself an underdog. Either way, she'd been laughed at most heartily upon placing her bet and told that if you didn't bet on Marty or Leon, you were just giving up  your money. She'd shrugged and taken her ticket before rejoining Olo back at the small café table to sip her tea. It hadn't taken him long to hop up from the chair and press his face against the glass to watch the goings on, but Mel watched calmly from her spot at the café.

Location: Docks

The woman took the clipboard back and eyed the man with a frown before turning her head a bit and looking behind him at the ship. Would he need anything else? "Get that ship a paint job or yer gonna be in fer a lot of suspicion and nasty treatment," she warned him, but honestly, she didn't personally care much what docked as long as it paid and didn't make any trouble for her.

Looks like some of these racers just couldn't hack it! Number 32 and Number 12 have stopped moving and are sitting in the lanes! Better get a cleanup crew ready for them if they don't wake up soon!

With an annoyed grunt, the woman eyed Izak one more time, waved the clipboard as though to remind him that she was expecting payment soon, and turned on her heel to walk back down the ship's ramp. She was clearly not a fan of the hubbub and chaos Race Day always caused.

CHARACTERS
Charity ~ Melody ~ Tabitha


NARRATION
Darling ~ Iscariot

Izak Archer

Location: Docks:

Zak nodded as she left and her crew rapidly worked away. The chief was right. They could spoof or change the IFF however they wanted, but unless they painted over at least part of the ship, it would be one hell of a gorram problem for them in the long run.

He fished in his pocket for his communicator as he kept his head on a swivel. As it was, he was pretty sure Melody wouldn't pick up right off. He figured that respect would come eventually.

"Hey  boss you there? I need some paint and tools and we need to pay for the work." He waited for a response. Worse came to worst, he would just try again later.

Holger Heyerdahl

July 09, 2019, 06:32:01 AM #91 Last Edit: July 09, 2019, 09:47:09 AM by Holger Heyerdahl
Holger looked down at the shiny brown shoes, his eyes twinkling with delight. A smile broadened his beard. "These are shoes!" Hopping to his feet, he ran over to a full-length mirror to admire them fully, Missy still tethered to his wrist and dragged along for the ride whether she liked it or not. What he saw disappointed him. "The shoes are not the pants and the shirt is not the pants and the sweater and..." His smile turned upside down as he studied the image before him. In the years since leaving St. Albans and joining the Browncoat cause, Holger had held all manner of jobs in the 'Verse but had spent most of his time as a gun for hire. It was really what he was best at. This meant his time was spent primarily amongst the criminal underworld, as those are the people who generally required big men with weapons to stand menacingly against their enemies. His exposure to this world had been illuminating in a lot of ways, but one thing, in particular, had always captured Holger's imagination.

Extravagant fashion.

Gangsters often dressed in particular ways to denote their allegiances or cultures or their vast wealth. Holger wished to look successful. And what he saw did not look successful. He was wearing a ratty old sweater and pants, both of which had once been nice but through wear and tear (and the events of the last few days) were rendered absolutely ruined. It was decided. A wide armed gesture to his entire ensemble, even wider as it continued to include Missy. "I would like to buy it all."

Mohammed's eyes lit up and he clapped his hands at once, the children scattered. "Please, my friend, come with me." The shopkeep gestured for Holger to follow him deeper into the store. "I shall show you my private collection."

Holger looked at Missy and Jo, tugging at the shackle on his wrist as if asking permission to go.
Dialogue Color - Orange

Joakim Soong

Joakim watched Mohammed's antics from a safe distance. Holger seemed awful pleased with the shiny pair of shoes he had been fitted with, despite them being completely wrong for their line of work. Holger seemed to come to that realization as well once he got a good look at himself in the mirror. At least that's what Jo thought at first, but much to his dismay, Holger seemed to draw the exact wrong conclusion from how mismatched his outfit looked. If Jo was interpreting the giant's garbled speech patterns correctly, he was now looking to replace the rest of his clothes as well, not just his boots.

"Are you sure this is a good i-" Jo began to protest, but Holger was already following Mohammed into the bowels of the store, dragging Missy with him. The schadenfreude Jo felt towards their hostage stopped him from following and stopping the trio, along with the fact that he didn't want to risk getting a makeover himself.

With all that cacophony gone, Jo was left alone with the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Was it his sixth sense alerting him to danger? Or just his paranoia getting the best of him? That was the problem with having a neurotic disposition: you never knew when your gut was telling you something actually useful and when it was just full of xióngmāo niào.

Jo parted the layers of heavy curtains hanging at the dooray to the store and stuck out his head, scanning the crowd. Nothing seemed out of place at a quick glance, but all that proved was that if they did have a tail, they weren't completely incompetent. Wait, was that weasely-looking guy over there staring at him? No, he was just checking out the young man in tight pants that happened to walk past Mohammed's store at that moment.

Maybe peeking out like this had been the wrong move. Maybe nobody had paid mind to them before, but he was raising suspicion with his antics. And yet...
Dialogue color: teal

Tereza

"Go home,"

Home, yes well that could be an option. Doubtful, but an option nevertheless. Tereza didn't respond verbally, her sharp controlled breaths continued in a measured cadence. However one hand lifted from the flight stick to snake a universal connector cable out from her personal cortex device and into the ship's interface. A few more taps and an animated picture was sent on the return line to Leon's ship. It was a small chibi style animation of Tereza's suit, waging its hips side to side while shaking a finger at the viewer. It was accompanied by a repeating audio file saying 'nah ah ah, nah ah ah'. Over and over and over again. Until closed.

Maintaining her breathing Tereza tightened her cricut, looking to cut Leon off in the next quarter loop. Already she could see the edges of her vision blurring softly.
Dark be the sky
Dense be the clouds
Thunders seem to fright
And storm will take the lives
The sun sets and rise
But the cut above will always FLY
-- Ravi Chan

Rashy Pete

Location: The Hub

"Rashy," she grumbled as Olo scratched at the dry, flaking skin on his neck. She shoved him into a rickety wooden chair with a certain twist to her expression as if Rasputin's notorious flatulence wafted into her nostrils. Olo sniffed at the air for reasons not even he could comprehend, but when the cat's trademark scent went undetected the 'maintenance technician' attempted to sniff under his arms as discretely as possible. "You sit here, and don't run off. I'm going to see who's racing and place some bets. If you run, when I find you, I'll hurl you out into space. The racers can use you as an obstacle on the course," Olo laughed for no apparent reason but stopped abruptly. "What race?"

Olo turned his head out toward the expansive viewport surrounded by screens that flickered to life as shuttles and speeders lined up outside. The screens showed various points around the space station, though it Olo a bit to register the various fields of black with flickers of distant stars. Olo's face lit up and his eyes sparkled for a moment as he beheld the spectacle, but faded quickly when he realized he was just looking at stars. "Is this some kind of science show? I don't like it. Hey Melody! Melody! Can you see if they've got any cartoons?" If the blond could hear him, she didn't let on. Olo sighed and looked back out at the racers preparing to launch. "Rashy... Rashy? Yeah, Rashy's good. 'Don't cross Ol' Rashy Olo!' Nah, that won't work. Rashy Rashtivan? Rashtivan the Rashy? What do you think?"

Rasputin hopped on the table, put on his best prance as he circled before Olo, then stretched with his mangy gray tail standing straight in the air. The cat meowed and purred to itself before departing the table for Melody's location at the cafe bar, leaving Olo with a stout and pungent forget-me-not. Olo's face scrunched up in a manner not unlike Melody's earlier look and his tongue smacked inside his mouth in some vain attempt to dismiss the taste of foul air. "Yeah, no. When you're right, you're right, Ras." Olo waved his hand in the air to dissipate the cloud of corruption lingering about the dining area, resulting in some accusatory looks from other patrons likely gathered to engage in the same aspects of the race Melody involved herself in with the barista that wasn't a barista. "What?" Olo asked as several gamblers sat up from their tables to enjoy their drinks closer to the viewport.

"Rashy Petrovich. Yeah. 'Beware the wrath of Rashy Petrovich, Bastard of the Black!' Hmm. No, no. I can't just use my family name. What would Papa think? Plus it's too... I dunno... 'Ethnic' to really catch on. Peter maybe? Hm. Rashy Peter. I should ask." Olo whistled and waved his arms, thinking better of standing up from the chair as he attempted to get his... Captain? Captor? Melody's attention. "Hey! Melody! What do you think of Rashy Peter!? MELODY! DO YOU LIKE RASHY PETER?"
"You better squeeze all the Charmin you can, While Mr. Whipple's not around;
Put your head in the microwave, and get yourself a tan"


- "Dare To Be Stupid", 'Weird Al' Yankovic

Melody

July 24, 2019, 08:45:15 AM #95 Last Edit: July 24, 2019, 08:55:05 AM by Melody
Location: The Hub

With ticket in hand, Melody made her reluctant way back to where she'd deposited the disaster, pausing to bend down and run a hand over the cat's back, a thoughtfully confused expression on her face. "How are you alive?" she asked the cat, shaking her head and standing again. With an owner like the mechanic, she figured either the cat just didn't need much care or it mostly took care of itself. Those were the only explanations for it still being in one piece. In her free hand, a small plate balanced atop her fingertips, two cups of tea teetering in place while she moved, the steam coiling up from the glasses wafting up into the filtered air of the park.

Shoulders tensed and expression soured upon being whistled at, her bright gaze cutting a path straight to the new 'recruit'. Her feet stopped moving and there was a brief moment upon which she considered turning and heading back to her ship without him, but the risk of his loose lips outweighed her deepest instinct to stay away from this mound of disease and destruction...

With barely held-together restraint, the pilot set both cups of tea on the table and sat down, one leg crossing over the other. Her elbows settled on the sides of the chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin as Melody stared hard at the man across from her. With the race now ongoing, the display screens captured the images of the ship's second favorite on his presumed win, another ship edging all the closer in the periphery. Finally, "Pete," Melody corrected. Peter was too formal, in her mind. A hand extended to the side, index finger pointing toward the screens. "Make your mouth stop moving for a moment and look that way," she told him, gaze still glued to his face.

Her comms unit crackled to life and Mel stared at his as Izak spoke, her nose scrunched up in mild annoyance. Picking it up, she snapped back at him, "You want me to pick you up some watercolors too? Maybe some calligraphy brushes? Why in the blazes do you need paint?!"
Dialogue Color: Brown

Lomari

Location: Sector 3

Finally, movement! The man watching them from across the street felt anticipation rising in his chest. He paused and set a hand over his sternum, frowning as the realization struck him that that was not anticipation but indigestion. A large hand settled on his shoulder and Eye-patch belched in surprise, whipping around with his hands raised as though to strike. The tree trunk of a man behind him held his hands up and smiled at his friend, four large teeth glimmering with gold foil out from the darkness of his mouth. "Hippo, you scared me.." Eye-patch muttered, turning to look back toward the shop. "The newcomers doin' anythin' interestin'?" the larger man, 'Hippo', asked. "Just shopping. I think..." Eyepatch answered, confused about how long they'd been in the building. But he'd just seen one of them so at least he knew they were still in there.

Location: Perimeter

The racers, those that were left, neared the finish line set in perfect viewing distance from the Hub's park. Like a horse race of times past, these races were short and sweet, but extremely trying and rough on the pilots. Over the still open comms line, Tereza could hear Leon yelp in surprise as his hub was covered in little women, effectively blocking his access to the data he needed to stay on course. "Qing Wa Cao De Liu Mang. Mei Yong Ma Duh Tse Gu Yong. Meh Lien Duh Jyah Jee!" he yelled, his ship wobbling as it missed several required vectors needed to stay in the sharp turn. Another wobble. And another. With a screech of surprise, the comms line snapped shut and Leon's chrome ship spun violently out of its place and out past the racing lanes before its engine sputtered out and it began to drift. Tereza's ship rocketed forward into first place and whizzed past the finish line.

Location: Docks

The refueling process was quick, as the Cornwolf had been mostly full when it had settled down for an emergency landing. The water refill, however, had taken a markedly long time to complete. In the end, however, the dock team uncoupled their hoses from the Revenge and locked the ports back up securely, making sure to wipe away any excess fluids that might've dripped along the outside of the ship. Hoses were wound back up and set onto carts that were then rolled away amidst chatter about the race and boisterous laughter now that they were moving away from the potential Alliance vessel.


What's this?! Leon's ship has stopped moving! He's being overtaken! I can't believe it folks, Leon is out of the race! He's lost! The newcomer wins!
Location: The Hub

The crowd watching the race from the park had been cheering as Leon reached the last stretch of the race, their betting tickets in hand. The sound had become deafening, but it was nothing compared to the startled and outraged silence that followed Leon's loss. "Who tha' hell?" someone asked, breaking the stony silence. A chorus of confused muttering and the angry shouting of fans replaced the cheer and joy from moments before. The Revenge's pilot looked down at her ticket, brows aloft. She'd just won a sickening amount of money... From the cafe, the man behind the bakery spoke into a comms system, his eyes locked upon her, narrowed and suspicious.

Location: Sector 3

"Wazzat?" Hippo asked into his communication's device as it crackled to life. "Got a cheater on board. Decimal's racer. I have eyes on her accomplice, the lady what came in on the new vessel. Only one that bet on her. Lil' Sebastian wants 'em. You got eyes on the cheat's crew?" he asked. "Sure do!" he replied with a big grin. Eye-patch looked up at his friend with raised brows, "Now? Now? Now?" he asked, hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. His job had only been to observe the newcomers, make sure they played by the station's rules until they got boring or seemed to be on the right track. But now, they got to throw down and that was always more fun. The two strangers moved carefully across the street toward the shop.
CHARACTERS
Charity ~ Melody ~ Tabitha


NARRATION
Darling ~ Iscariot

Holger Heyerdahl

July 26, 2019, 02:29:26 PM #97 Last Edit: August 08, 2019, 06:59:56 AM by Lomari
Location: Sector 3

Once behind the protective curtain, Holger began to undress, the clothes with sleeves lumped together on the arm connected to Missy. The pants remained. For now. Under the raggedy sweater and shirt, Holger's bare skin was revealed. Ruddy in complexion, with fine ginger hair confirming that he was, in fact, a natural redhead. While not finely toned by any metric, it was still abundantly clear that Holger was still made of solid muscle, and the scars that crisscrossed his arms and torso were all the proof anyone would need of his grit. Holger's life had not been an easy one.

Mohammed took them to a rack of suits and presented them as one would beloved children. Each suit was finer than the next and made of every color and fabric imaginable. "The prismatic clothes make my eyes pop." He said and it was true, his eyes matched the width of the smile under his beard. Where he had learned the word prismatic was a mystery. He picked up a zebra print monstrosity and admired it.

"If I may..."Mohammed said, replacing the suit on the rack. "You are very large, my friend. Perhaps something in your size. Forty-eight long." Out came a brilliant blue suit, which Mohammed draped over one arm admiringly to present its full glory to Holger.

As if he had seen God, a single tear ran down Holger's cheek and his voice nearly trembled as he took the suit in his own hands and felt the fabric, touched each button, smelled the lining. "Yes. These are the clothes I will wear."

He began to undress further.
Dialogue Color - Orange

Izak Archer

Location: Docks:

Izak shook his head. How could Melody be so narrow minded? Although the idea was coming from him...and maybe she wasn't one of those pilots who were into the whole 'nose art' concept. He had an image in his head of her soaring across the a system with a lion painted on the side of her fighter.

Yeah, defintely not her style.

"Crew chief's suggestion. She said it would help prevent people from think were Alliance military when needed," he said.

He realized he have to spice it up a little, thinking about the pirates and pilot of Earth many centuries before. He tried to sound as serious as he could for his next phrase.

"Or should I say, so they think we're Alliance until its too late."

Isa Romero

Location: The Docks

Well, no plan ever did go according to plan did it? Isa was a strategist, and usually it was predictable, but this, was anything but.  Of course with her history with the boat and well, the alliance it would be expected that she was recognized.  So she had a plan b, should anything go awry.  Unfortunately she didn't quite get a chance to tell Melody her plan, but they would find each other eventually. So, she followed her own protocol as any good captain would, and went to the nearest space station. Iscariot.

Biding her time on the docks watching the ships come in and out, eventually she heard the name she was looking for.  Isa's Revenge.  A smile curled onto her lips as she walked toward her prize. The ship seemed to smile back at her with the same thought.  A content sigh left her as she looked over her long lost love.  No man would ever take its place.  From a distance Isa watched Izak speak with the maintenance crew. Their boss left and the crew got to work. Isa walked up beside him,

Quote"Hey  boss you there? I need some paint and tools and we need to pay for the work."

"I suppose we could rustle something up." A smile still on her lips as she looked up at the ship, "Definitely should get this lady a new look, wouldn't want anyone to be afraid of her now would we?"

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