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Messages - Martin Miller

Marty saw the stalled out ship flickering back to life behind him. He grinned. While he liked to win, he preferred to have lively competition. Having cut the corner just how he liked it, the wheelman adjusted his fuel levels and threw down the throttle. The low bass hum of the old bird's engine was soothing. His pulse clocking in a couple beats over normal, he knew he was in good position but had to keep his head on straight to keep his lead.

Coming up towards the next turn he cut the acceleration and .... and it kept accelerating.

Now less worried about the race and slightly more consumed with not smearing himself on the side of an asteroid the Briton smashed the fuel management panel. An ominous light blinked red.


With only a couple seconds to think of something he grimaced, knowing the race was now lost... for him. He flicked up a cover on a switch, then flipped the switch itself and Janice, as he called her, started dumping her fuel out into the black and Marty threw the stick of his flight controls down, plummeting out of bounds of the track. This was meant to leave the track at least a little clearer for the other races so they could continue on in the race, even though it meant he was going to have to just fly in circles around Iscariot until his race-shuttle hit empty.

The young man had it dawn on him he'd finally lost. Then got to wondering what in the hell jammed up his fuel lines like that. He tapped a few buttons on screen as he veered away from the track.

Accessing maintenance history.... Last refurbishment recorded by user: Hardy420

"Bloody wanker! I knew it!!"
"Grab your gear, grab your rear!

Hope you don't burn in atmosphere!

Oh we're the rutting worst!

Oh we're the bloody f***ing First!"

Marty's foot thumped the beat to accentuate it into the hull of Janice as the ship rattled along through space. It was meant to be an honor to be in the First Orbital Assault Tank Battalion, and he was even meant to be among the first crew commanders. But his rebellious nature during training, and the war going and ending too soon, he never got to get the chance to fly his tank into battle against the independents. Something honestly he was glad of. Many in his unit were disappointed they couldn't aid in the fight but Marty was glad he didn't have to risk his or anyone else's ass over that mess of a war anyway.

He was trailing at third, but that wasn't stressing the former purple belly. The Briton flicked a couple switches and reassigned some fuel that spooled up in the system, had it redirected to the maneuvering thrusters. He was waiting for the next turn... and then....


The extra fuel hit the thrusters and if the young man still knew what he was doing and the ship held together this might give him the extra bit of maneuverability he'd need to advance a rank or two.
Quote from: undefined"Why this one?"

Marty swung around in his seat and saw Leon leaning into his shuttle. The engines starting up, the deep purr of the engines resonating into his bones, he could feel the adrenaline trickling in already. He grinned at his friend and pretend enemy. He mimicked the Frenchman's hushed tone:

"She ain't the prettiest girl here, and she won't jump in your pants the fastest, but she can ruttin' dance her arse off..."

He couldn't give too much more of his strategy away than that. But it fit his style. Marty could certainly throw the throttle down hard as anyone. But where he thrived was in chaos of the difficult gravity assisted turns, and in finding opportunities to overtake the pack during crashes. Still the tank pilot in many ways, the boy was here to scrap.

A light turned green on his dashboard and let out a cheerful:


The engines were ready, and all systems were looking good.

"I'll see you out there, ya smelly Frenchman!"

Marty shouted as he noticed a fan nearby trying to peer into the drivers area. He was quick to put his "face" back on.
Iscariot Archived Episodes / Re: Episode 4: Hub/Docks
February 27, 2020, 06:07:45 pm
Marty strolled casually onto the docks and rocked straight up to the board where he had first pick of the station's shuttles. He eyed what was available. He shook his head. If this show wasn't an underground mess organized by a tiny crime lord they could maintain these boats better and maybe even get sponsors to refresh the stock once in a while.

Being one of the "house" racers and their best one he could have just picked the newest ship with the best engine. However, Marty knew his strengths and while anyone with a functioning nervous system could mash down the throttle and go, but that's not what wins races. At least for this madman. He knew his best chances were in the turns, and when things got dodgy, when the weaker racers started wiping out and turning the hardest turns into a minefield of debris.

The person who could get through the toughest parts of the race the fastest, that was usually the winner. And if anyone was good at capitalizing on chaos, or being the cause of it: It was Martin bloody Miller. The English accented former stunt-man and now former bounty hunter plucked the smart-key for his chosen shuttle. He'd only run with this horse through one other race. But he was saving plucking her out of retirement for his own return from the pasture.


He greeted the vessel as he approached. Of course she already had a name. Some would say Janice was past her prime, and that she had a few too many laps around a few too many suns, but Marty valued her experience. He liked the character the shuttle had acquired and of course those much stronger than normal maneuvering thrusters. It was a quirk of this model's former life back in the core. It would zip Alliance citizens back and forth between one planet and her closest moon, darting in and out of traffic from the automated freight vessels and occasionally feds as these vessels were usually used to smuggle synthetic drugs.

The pilot flipped a couple switches to start get the engine idling and so he could check the gauges. The purr and eccentric rattles were like a song he'd been waiting all day to hear.

Let's race.
Iscariot Archived Episodes / Re: Episode 4: Sectors/Shops
February 21, 2020, 10:21:26 am
Karaoke Bar

"Why, yes. I think I will."

Marty plopped his coin onto the bar and stepped forward towards the Frenchman. He stared him dead in the eye, grin on his face. It was fun to be mixing it up again. Making a big show of it for the fans like they were professional wrestlers in the days of Earth That Was. He then looked to each of the ladies and then back to Leon.

"And if any of you happen to find your evening wanting, room 603."

Miller straightened his jacket and gave one of the girls a wink.

"I really should get going though..."

He made an exaggerated face as he looked at the time on the watch he wasn't wearing.

"I"ve gotta go get prepped though, 'is mum gets real anxious if I don't call and promise to take it easy on her little angel, poor thing."

Marty had actually called her before, but only to tell her the whole thing was an act and her son was his mate. Swinging back around he gave the barkeep a little salute and left an extra tip. As he went to leave he gave Leon a mock friendly pat on the back that was actually friendly and leaned in for just a moment.

"Really though, tell your mum I said 'ello."

With that the swaggering wheelman was sauntering back out of the bar and towards the docks. He could feel those pre-race butterflies and relished the moment. Getting back to even just the showboating part of it all, he felt like it was putting on a well worn-in jacket on a brisk afternoon.
Iscariot Archived Episodes / Re: Episode 4: Sectors/Shops
February 18, 2020, 07:48:40 pm

The Courtesan's first mission as the central spoke of a bounty hunting enterprise didn't go to plan. Their one target who turned out to be two very squirrelly twins weren't an easy pair to bring in. One tried to run off with a bag over his head and ran straight into one of the running vertical takeoff turbines for their shuttle. Luckily the Miller sisters had things covered and brought the other living mark back in one very drunk piece. Ten hours of interrogation on the way back to the core with Mason and Matilda he was ready to hand over the funds they'd embezzled, mostly to get them to stop arguing with each other.

The family picked up a bonus fat enough to bail out the family nest egg before they retired the family business for good. Marty was happy to help get the family back on its feet and got to pretend there was a minute where he'd been top dog, even if they'd probably have just demoted him back to pilot if they got any more high stakes gigs. Hell, Marty was pretty sure half of them who voted for him as Captain only did so strategically, not expecting anyone else to vote for him.

Location: The Docks

Marty stepped out onto the docks once again. He wasn't pissed this time. There was a race today. And just about nobody save Lil' Sebastian knew he was going to be a last minute entry in today's run. His last minute arrival should help spur a whole lot of last minute bets given his rivalry with Leon and that's why the tiny crime lord was ready to furnish him with a ride for today's jaunt around the track.

The funny thing was, while their supposed rivalry was often the talk of the station bar, Marty and Leon actually got on fine. They were both just good racers, and both always left it all out on the track. In the cockpit, that man was his mortal enemy. But if they were having a drink after the race they always had to pretend to argue once anyone started to get close.

As the man of many prior professions strutted down the halls he held his head high. Sure things have been going a bit tzao gao at every new job he tried. These races were a damn good fall back job, and sure beat going back home to collect veteran benefits he didn't think he deserved. On his way to the karaoke bar he chuckled at the guy who'd just gotten his knee-caps drummed on with a hammer.

Wrong station to act fresh, mate.

Miller's day was definitely going better than that guy's. Rounding the bend he saw the sign for the bar. Putting on a smile, he stepped through the threshold.

Karaoke Bar

The young pilot had just been told to show face in the bar once he was back in the station. They didn't give him too much else beyond that, so he improvised from here. Cupping his hands to amplify his voice he bellowed out:


Half the faces that turned to him just looked annoyed. Better reaction than he was expecting. Shrugging it off, Marty turned his attention to the barkeep.

"Pre-race drink, mate! The usual, please and thanks."

He drummed rapidly on the bar as the drink was begrudgingly mixed. One part ice, two parts cranberry juice, and two spoonfuls of Billy Bo's five alarm hot sauce. They were profoundly wrong when all mixed together and made him feel like he wanted to die. And it was exactly the jolt he needed to kick his brain into the right gear to tear those turns apart.

The wheelman slammed his now empty glass back down on the counter and threw his hands up in the air as he exclaimed:

"Whoo!!! ---- Bollocks that is rubbish but it does the job!"

He turned around and scanned the crowd as he waited for the after taste to fade.
The Courtesan IC / Re: S1: Ep1- The Most Dangerous Aim
January 09, 2020, 12:49:47 pm
Team Bravo
Location: Practice Hunt - 5km from The Party and Team Alpha

Captain Miller tried to stifle his shock and disgust at the genetic monstrosities and straightened his already straight tie. Looking over at the bar he saw Mason sidling up to the bar and, son of a bitch, the target. While this was all really weird and faux-posh, Miller felt like they'd really struck gold on this job. An air of confidence washed over him, as he cleared his throat to address some of the party-goers.

"Try and isolate that wanker and I'll cause a different scene for these other wankers to worry about."

Moving towards a large cluster of the guests who hadn't started pre-hunting yet, they were discussing one of the guests recent vacation.

"-as I was saying, I just got back and you really do have to visit Greenleaf this time of year its simply..."

Snatching a flute of champagne from a passing servant mid stride, he jumped into a conversation with some assembled guests. "Worthington" interjected with a jovial tone.

"Cold and bloody windy sure!"

He nudged the aristocrat with his elbow.

"But that Companion house is open year-round idnit?"

As they recoiled back in shock, and one of them stifled a laugh, his wife stepped forward to slap him in the face.


Marty winced then took a sip of his champagne.

"I'm afraid I haven't been introduced to your vivacious wife or any of your other fine lords and ladies, might I correct that: I am Worthington Birtwistle of Buckhamshire-"

"And I am Eliza Birtwistle. Are you that race car driver pretending to be one of my brothers?"

The Captain's eyes went wide and he stood there for a beat, unsure what to do, taking a long sip of his champagne that turned into finishing the whole thing. As he chugged, he noticed another guest walking up to one of the over-sized cages, and "pre-hunting" it whilst it was defenseless in a cage. The man chuckled as he emptied an entire clip of full auto fire into the beast.

"Heh... Ahh well you know Dad... he sure-"

"Got a vasectomy in 2487! Is that what you were going to say? Hmm?"

All of his previous confidence now washed away he was truly buggered as his well worn cover identity seems to have become a liability and now he was blown.

"That's sooo strange... Would any of you beleive I'm actually licencsed bounty hunter, and my partner is about to arrest a felon you've all been harboring? "

He looked around. No takers.

"Well gorram it, let's do some hunting eh?!!"

Marty tossed his now empty glass to the side and pivoted around, bringing up his rifle, aiming towards one of the caged faux-giraffes. His crosshairs shifted from the beast's head, and then down to the lock on the cage. He let out a three round burst at the cages which were a good fifty yards away. Two grazed the ho-raffe and the third struck home, disabling the local. The now enraged beast bashed its head into the cage's door and then stumbled out into the party, rearing up like the over-sized horse it technically was.

The party goers erupted into shouting and some started going for their weapons, but all their ire was still dead focused on Marty and the loose facsimile of a Giraffe.

"Lā shǐ! Grab the target, Mace!"
Empress Heists IC / Re: A Shipful of Dollars
January 08, 2020, 02:01:58 pm
Marty joined the chorus of voices on the com line.

"What's up, party people?!"

He brought the ambulance down for a landing smoothly and continued to quip:

"Your ride-share for the evening has arrived. Please feel free to make use of the complimentary cortex unit chargers, bottles of water or a mint. Don't forget to rate 5 stars and tip, please and thanks. Fair warning, anyone pukes, chucking you out the back."

The ship settled down firmly on the ground and Marty was again anxiously tapping on the flight controls rhythmically. He kept the engine running, so the vertical lift jets idled at a dull roar. He turned up the volume for the emergency response channels on his headset.

"No chatter from the Bobbies yet, we're looking golden for exfil."
The Courtesan IC / Re: S1: Ep1- The Most Dangerous Aim
November 22, 2019, 12:35:05 pm
Team Bravo
Location: Practice Hunt - 5km from The Party and Team Alpha

Marty itched at his suit. He'd found one of his pop's older suits from his last visit to the Grand Hunt. He used an air-gun from the engine room to blast the dust out of it. The red still popped and once he had the outfit on, he was surprised how much he kinda liked it. It was completely daft, but it had an over the top charm to it. Marty had his bullpup rifle slung in front of him, pulled tight so he could walk comfortably. As he and Mason strolled casually onto the grounds of the farmhouse at which the "practice hunt" was taking place, he could already hear the occasional crack of a rifle, or the rata-tat of automatic fire as the one percenters played around with firepower leagues over what anyone would consider normal hunting kit.

Captain Miller was feeling good, they were out on their first job, and he was dressed up like an upper class twit but that was part of the fun. Though, his mood quickly turned as they rounded a corner on the path leading up to the barn and the cages holding their pray came into sight. They were meant to be Giraffes from Earth That Was. But since their ancestor's didn't bring them on the generation ships that brought humanity to this corner of the universe, their fodder today were genetically modified horses.

He tried to suppress his shock and disgust as he took the creatures in.

"Ó, gāisǐ de!"

The Ho-raffes only had the bulk and neck length of a true giraffe. The rest of the effect came from yellow paint and then spots of brown. The young captain shuddered and made a half joking sign of the cross as if to cleanse himself from the unholy visage and shot his brother a look of disbelief and bemusement. It was then he noticed his older brother had barely noticed and was marching forward half-way to a jog towards something else that caught his eye.

Mad Marty fumbled for his invitation in his jacket pocket and showed it to the security guarding the cages and shooting range by a fairly ornate looking farmhouse. The invitation and his ID read "Worthington Birtwistle of Buckhamshire". He'd assumed the identity of a bastard son of the duke of Londinium. He had dozens so it was generally a pretty easy lie to get away with and luckily it was the identity under which Marty had undertaken a few races as a ringer, so there was some verifiable backstory for his character.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen..."

Just out of the corner of his eye, the captain could have sworn he saw their target already, mingling by the bar.

No way it could be this easy... Could it?
SS Iscariot Crew / Re: Martin "Mad Marty" Miller
November 04, 2019, 03:39:00 pm
Medical Records


Ship Specific (If going by an assumed name):
Empress Heists IC / Re: A Shipful of Dollars
October 31, 2019, 12:21:33 pm
"No!!! Stop it... YOU ARE KILLING ME!!!"

Marty shouted in agony. But his protests, and his attempts to counter failed. His foe was ready, and much more experienced, hardened and quick with his wits. It was over, Mr Miller had been vanquished.

"Gorram it you filthy pillock!!!"

The driver threw down his cards, two pair wasn't going to trump his suited straight. His foe, the security guard chuckled and took a swig from his flask, and offered it to Marty. Obliging his new friend he took a quick, little sip. Just enough to help his nerves but not enough to dull his sense. Just a wee taste, as opposed to the many liters the other night. Handing the man his flask back, he looked at his watch then grimaced.

"Bollocks. I better go check my radio and see if any of the blue bloods have drunk themselves sick yet. I'll see you for the New Dunsmire v Greenleaf match next Wednesday?"

The older security guard gave him a thumbs up and strolled back into the building as he took a deep swig of his flask. Marty casually walked back into the ship, then once the doors shut behind him, rushed back to the cockpit and picked up his binoculars. It seemed there had been another arrival while he was busy distracting the confused security guard.

He winced a little and checked back in over the radio.

"Had a close call up here but crisis is averted, just a bored security guard wondering why I'm loitering on rooftops like Captain Lizard."

Captain Lizard was a vigilante who'd styled himself after the costumed heroes of Earth that Was legends. He tried to chase down crooks from rooftops for a few years until he misjudged one of the gaps between buildings chasing a shoplifter, and ended up being cleaned off the pavement with a hose, green foam from his costume and gore all mixed together.

The Courtesan IC / Re: S1: Ep1- The Most Dangerous Aim
October 28, 2019, 05:33:11 pm
"Rory, Rory, Rory..."

Marty chuckled at his nephew's bright-eyed enthusiasm. He reminded him a bit of himself, except all that enthusiasm went towards nonsense that got him in trouble mostly. He seemed like he was a nice kid with his head squarely on his shoulders. And somehow he was actually a Miller. Marty tossed his father's formal wear back into the wardrobe haphazardly and walked over to his nephew and put his arm around his neck, bringing him in for a sort of half hug that turned into a noogie coming from his other free hand.

"I have a classified job for you... I had to keep the details under wraps for the sake of uhhh operational security. I don't know if you've met our pilot yet...

The baby-faced captain addressed his baby-aged relation and subordinate. Marty pulled his communicator linked to the ship's PA system out of his pocket and beckoned his partner for the mission.
"Oy, Hubert.... Could you pop into the Captain's quarters for a minute, please?"

An audible flush was heard throughout the room, and the narrow door to the Captain's private lavatory swung open. The co-pilot, Hubert Hargrove or "Sparrow" as he liked to be called emerged, shirtless, and mid-way through hand rolling a cigarette. He wasn't managing too well and a lot of the tobacco was spilling out onto what was once his parents' cabin.

"Heeeyyy... What's up mate?"

His New Melbourne accent rang out. The co-pilot's intonation sounding much like an Australian accent from Earth that was. Marty nudged his nephew slightly toward the shirtless and sloppy smoker. As the shirtless, and anti-antiperspirant free pilot pulled Rory in for a hug as if he too was a member of the family and on much more familiar terms than most of them.

Hubert took a moment as he wrapped his arms around his new co-worker and let out a long breath.

"Ahhhhh sooooo goood toooo meet yoooou kiddo!"

Completing the assault-hug, he grabbed him by the arm gently and started to bring him along as he left the quarters.

"Let's go debug the navicomputer buddy!"

Captain Miller waited a couple of seconds for them to get down the hall before addressing his brother, making a face like he'd just saved his ass from a world of grief. Rather than helping his brother from further confronting the fact that his progeny had hunted him down, and that Marty then in turn used his status as Captain to hire the little bugger.

"See? I can Captain! He's much too green to come along on a job at present. He'll be pressing buttons on a screen while our half clothed pilot runs a totally unnecessary but very long diagnostic and won't come within a mile of any trouble."

The co-pilot too waited for them to get out of earshot before holding a hand up to his mouth as if to guide his whispered words towards his new younger friend:

"We're not going to debug that bloody computer tonight..."

He chuckled to himself as they headed towards the cockpit.

"Whole ship to ourselves, we're gonna have some fun, mate!"

And with a sly wink, he could only leave Rory wondering as to what fun they were going to get themselves into, rather than the busy-work their captain had planned.
The Courtesan IC / Re: S1: Ep1- The Most Dangerous Aim
October 08, 2019, 01:05:03 pm
Marty rolled his eyes at Penny and Mason quibbling over his nicotine habit. He'd never fancied the cancer sticks himself but he didn't really begrudge anyone of the vices they chose. He'd only briefly been in command of his tank crew before getting demoted to pilot. This was the longest he'd ever tried to hold a group of people's attention that didn't involve people going 'round and 'round on a track. He had an inkling though he had to keep asserting his place as Captain now or else they'd never take him seriously as Captain. Okay, maybe that ship sailed when they caught him shoving stinkbombs in their neighbor's mailbox at fifteen. But this was his time to gain some semblance of authority.

"Oy, I don't mind when you have a puff but be considerate of your workmates. The meeting's pretty much over anyway, we'll uhhh table the smoking policy for our next meeting yeah?"

Marty shrugged and hit the lights then rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"Let's go hit wardrobe, ya bunch of thespians! Meet me at the shuttle in an hour when you've got your kit."

Leading the way, he smacked the top of the doorframe on his way out in his excitement. His family could hog all the cynicism they wanted, the youngest Miller was raring to go. The former tank pilot darted into his Captain's cabin. It still had a faint smell of cigars from their father, but he didn't mind at all, having gotten nearly nose-blind to it at this point. He opened up the closet and was rifling through their pop's formal-wear. The young man didn't have any formal wear besides his army dress uniform so it was a good excuse to rifle through dad's rags.

Hearing the door open behind him, he turned around to greet them, holding up two hangers:

"Important work question: Ariel University Professor what snogs the undergrads, or French waiter bitten by another radioactive French waiter?"

The youngest Miller asked holding up a well stitched but very scholastic looking gray 3 piece, and a tuxedo who's shirt frills went down practically to his knees.
Empress Heists IC / Re: A Shipful of Dollars
September 27, 2019, 06:11:55 pm
"I........ aaaam sooo booorreedd....."

Marty crooned, in almost sultry manner. He was really leaning into it. Performing his pi gu off for an audience of none, he cranked up the vibrato:

"Baaaabyyy I.... am so mothulohoholuving borrred...."

He punched the air as if to punctuate a note from the band playing in the background.

"Buuut baby! ... I am not to bored to fu-"


The pilot froze for just a second.



He never saw anyone coming up on the security cameras. Then again, he'd been kinda flailing about really enjoying his performative boredom for a couple minutes now. He tapped the button to switch to a view of the rear hatch. A middle aged security guard had been smacking the hull of his stolen ambulance with a flashlight. He panned the camera slightly and saw the man was carrying a simple stun pistol on his hip besides the over-sized flashlight.

Johann reminded him to dress the part and was wearing a uniform he obtained by simply walking up to a paramedic at a pub across from a hospital and offering him 200 credits to have a couple of his uniforms. The first medic winked at him kinda weirdly after he offered, so he walked to the other side of the bar and asked them and made it clear it wasn't a weird sex thing. And they winked too so he just washed them a couple times and didn't tell anyone about this part of picking up the uniforms.

Marty threw open the door at the back hatch. The guard stumbled back and put his hand on his stun pistol but quickly relaxed slightly in his stance, seeing it was an apparently unarmed Medic.

"Aaayyyy sorry, mate. I'm just on union break and I wanted to sneak in a nap. You guys strict about parking? I can move."

Part of what he said was true. The former stuntman didn't really need to stay on this particular rooftop. If he sold this right, he might be able to just move the flying ambulance someplace nearby that can at least be at the front entrance in ninety seconds. He'd worked out a rough radius he could stick to and he might give up the vantage point but still stick to his primary job of being there to exfiltrate Johann and Xiǎodāo.

Marty smiled big for the guard. Trying to harness every last drop of the classic Miller family charm.
Courtly Asides / Re: Family Business
September 27, 2019, 01:32:12 pm
Marty's eyes opened again, as he, nearly crumpled all the way to the ground, straining his throbbing head up, he saw his sister sliding into the apartment with her hands up. He watched the situation defuse as he tried to take deep breaths, the wind still knocked out of him. The former stuntman tried to muster a single word at first and failed. It came out as strained exhale:


Still hunched over, he followed his sister back into the apartment, nudging the door shut behind him. The pilot pulled an icepack from the freezer and another beer from the fridge and slid it across the kitchen island to Tilly. He was starting to get his breath back and took a sip from his own beer as he pressed the ice to his noggin.

"Yeah.. what brings you 'round 'sides kicking my arse?"

He looked around his kitchen and now there were a handful of rifles on the floor, and his eyes rolled with only minor exasperation. Somehow any time you got enough of the Miller kids together, the beer and armory get depleted with equal vigor. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he had more than one of his siblings in his apartment since that party he threw to celebrate the end of the Unification war and his exit from the armed services. Marty's eyes shifted from Mason, to his Matilda. He thought back to the last time either of them gave him a buzz. Mason had mostly just been calling on him to smuggle high end firearms and higher end liquor from Iscariot station to help him resupply as budgets got leaner. Tilly however, last time she'd seen him, she got disqualified from one of her underground fights on account of him getting into a scrap with the other MC. Come to think of it, last time he'd done a job for Mason he had to ditch the cargo after a patrol caught up with him too.

Slowly sipping his beer, the flyboy became uncharacteristically quiet. Both siblings likely came to collect on favors owed. The youngest, and shortest of the Millers hunched down slightly. Not terribly eager to find out what tasks they'd allotted him. His mind raced through all the possible excuses he could try out. Flu? No, he got his shots ages ago. Death in the family? No, they'd know about that. He started reaching for a distraction.

"So. Who wants to play video games? Eh?... "
The Courtesan IC / Re: S1: Ep1- The Most Dangerous Aim
September 19, 2019, 07:46:46 pm
Three hours from now. Highgate Grand Hunting Grounds:

"Please stop shooting at me!"

Marty impotently shouted as bullets helplessly ricocheted off the rocky outcropping he'd taken cover behind. His assailant was packing a large and cumbersome drum magazine, and had seemingly adopted a strategy of trying to dig through the hill with bullets. Unfortunately, while it felt like forever for the youngest Miller, the supply of bullets was insufficient to this task and finally the hammer clicked on an empty chamber.

As the shooter fumbled to reload with a smaller traditional "clip" style magazine, magnanimously, Captain Miller tried to warn them off yet again.

"You've seriously got to stop! You don't have any bloody cover! I am a licensed bounty hunter, and that sodding moron-"



Marty beat his brother to the punch, his cool demeanor finally worn too thin. He slipped slightly around cover, his rifle's sight lined up center of mass, and he double-tapped, staggering them back. The coup de gras came from Mason about a hundred yards away, snapping into the side of their head a second before the crack of the rifle could be heard.

The newly minted Captain popped out of cover and shrugged at his brother watching from his scope. Speaking to him over the radio he mused:

"Blimey, bruv. You said killing people was going to get easier but I never thought you'd be this bloody literal."

But just as the words left his mouth he heard something coming around the bend on the hill. Marty spun around and his eyes went wide with a combination of disbelief, confusion, and frustration.

"Sod off..."

Now. The Courtesan's Meeting Room:

Captain Martin Miller. I. Am. The. Captain. Just start the gorram briefing. If you don't, Mace or Penny will...


Marty stood there at the end of the table, projector screen behind him alight, but blank as he'd yet to start the briefing. Normally this room had been used for movie nights when he was growing up. It had been repurposed for doing business presentations during Mason's combination shareholder meetings/booze cruises in their adulthood. There were even still cupholders on the table.

The screen lip up with a montage of footage on the projector screen with a small tablet device in front of him.

"Meet Oliver Rutlidge . Rather, Wendell Shultz, or maybe Jensen Pumdlebrew? That one's my personal favorite. Comptroller, financial consultant, town councillor, and now.. Treasurer of the Highland Grant Hunt."

He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, the audience seemed slightly annoyed for some reason.

"The brass tacks: This wanker has been lying his way into jobs watching the books for small towns, non profits and tzao gao across the very rutting edges of civilization, slipping the coin into untracable accounts and promtply fucking right off before anyone can think to do an image search of his face on the cortex. Proper dickhead. Penny, and Wulfy both have told me several times we cannot kill him."

Marty looked over at his brother and tried his damndest to give him a stern look.

"We cannot shoot him on sight like this is one of those cowboy books you like, Mace of spades."

The captain brought up another clip off footage: The King of Londinium traipsing through a forest with large entourage. They were all dressed to the nines, his royal guard in tuxedos and carrying ceremonial swords. The king himself wore his crown and a rather flamoyant cape. He was armed with a rather impressive handlebar mustache and an almost equally deadly belt-fed machine gun. He roared like a lion as he unloaded the weapon on a nearby charging animal. It was meant to be a tyrannosaurus from Earth that was. Though if they were looking close they'd notice it was more closely related to a turkey thanks to the limits of science.

"So what's the Grand Highland Hunt? I'd never heard of it but apparently rich wankers from all over the 'verse come here every summer to shoot genetically engineered animals that rich people think it might be fun to kill. Apparently dad went a couple times. Just heard of it. Hate it. They don't announce the extinct animal you'll hunt until they let 'em loose. Bloody strange. Nothing larger than a shuttle is allowed to fly in during this so as not to disturb the hellbeasts."

Switching to a map view, he highlighted a large but slightly ornate barn on the continent reserved for the grand hunt.

"Penny, Tilly... The mark is supposed to attend a party here... at some point. Your team Alpha, and you get to attend the party, sip some drinks and wait for this pillock to show. Convince him to follow you outside, clickity clack go the cuffs, we're back on the ship for supper and more libations."

Pointing to Mason then back to himself, the map moved over to something that looked like a farm from the satellite view.

"Mace and I will be team Beta. We'll try and catch him at a 'practice hunt' whatever that is. We can't be sure what time he'll breeze through this part so we're a bit of a contingency. Again... other guests of the event: They'll be rich, and they will have very big, very expensive guns, so just y'know be careful..."

Marty was now out of footage to put up on screen and ran out of steam. There was a pause as he tried to think of what else he had to tell them... His face lit up.

"We get to wear fancy dress!"

It was then Marty realized that Wulf and Penny did the research on the target, and probably knew half of this already. Mason had given him a tactical brief on the ambush points after they went through their intel on the schedule of events and the maps. But he'd worked very hard on the presentation. He'd just gone on and on basically for his own self indulgence. Seeing the looks he was getting, the young Captain smiled anyway. It was time to head to wardrobe. He was finally back in show business.
Courtly Asides / Re: Family Business
September 13, 2019, 02:59:37 pm
Marty popped a magazine into his rifle as Mason took up position at the door, having already picked out all the spots he hid his rifles. Maybe it was something he learned from him? At this point, little bits of opsec became normal family routine. Before Marty could pass his driver's test he'd learned how to operate a machine-gun and the basics of room-clearing.

Dutifully he slapped the buzzer for the building's door and took up a position behind staggered behind Mason, his weapon also pointing forward towards the door. He took a sharp breath. Then waited. About 10 seconds before he started talking again.

"All right so the beer was on sale. I am just clarifying. I don't like normally drink piss. I mean not literally. Bollocks to it, never mind."

The younger Miller worried who just might be looking for him and his brother. Had he somehow run afoul of the Empress crew on his way out? His stated reason for departure was his desire to take another shot at properly going pro as a racer. Which was true to an extent. But even he was realistic about his chances of breaking into the mainstream. He directed his thoughts back to the situation at hand. He could theorize about who was out to kill them after they took their shot.

"Bloody hell... it's always at times like this I need to scratch my arse."

Then he could hear the footsteps approaching. Marty tightened his grip and dismissed the concerns of who it may be, and the itch on his left buttock. He moved around to the side of the door, and pressed himself up against the wall next to it, with one hand he opened the door a crack, and held his rifle pointed forward. Just as they went to knock on the door, he pushed it all the way open and perhaps out of some impulse to impress his brother charged forward through the door.

Marty just felt a sharp blow to the head, and then a disabling shot to his side that had him near keeled over, and heard his rifle being smacked well across the room before he could process what was even happening. Marty's eyes once again pressed closed as he was pinned up against a wall for the second time in less than ten minutes.
Empress Heists IC / Re: A Shipful of Dollars
September 10, 2019, 05:28:03 pm
Marty picked up the binoculars from the dash of the shuttle. He zoomed in on the main room which, to his benefit, was almost nothing but glass, so the party goers might have a better view of the city around them. He scanned through the room and spotted Darby awkwardly working a small crowd. Even from here his body language was geeky. Though, in his research for the job, Miller had noticed that he actually agreed with a lot of the guy's proposals.

Momentarily dismissing the sinking feeling of his part in this man's undoing, he got on the comms:

"Oy, mark is main room of the museum... Trick, Shiri, Suri, Shiri, or whatever your name is, keep heading that way straight past the ice sculpture. Mark's next to a rather fetching brunette..."

He zoomed in further... watching her... watch the room. Marty clicked the comms back on:

"Aaand I think the brunette is on the job, stay sharp. "

Marty started tapping on the dashboard again. All he could do now was just sit and watch... as they helped elect a criminal. A slight knot formed in his stomach as he pushed the thought from his mind once again and he checked the radar screen as he tapped and tapped away on the dashboard. His cortex unit in his pocket buzzed. Probably just Mason bugging him about more corporate nonsense or a family drama he couldn't be bothered with right now. He muted it and started checking the skyline for feds.
Courtly Asides / Re: Family Business
August 27, 2019, 07:25:15 pm
Marty had been squeezing his eyes closed for a good ten seconds before it started to cross his mind nothing was happening. He slowly started to relax and peaked one eye open. He saw his older brother Mason, and then both eyes opened to then immediately roll back as he realized slamming him up on the wall was just some of that classic Miller clan roughousing. Most of them practiced in various martial arts from the moment they could walk, so constant competition through physical confrontation were frequent and occasionally got a little too heated. Maybe frequently. He wriggled out of his brother's grip and apologized for not returning his calls.

"Sorry, bruv. I was out on a job...That uhhhh... went great..."

He took a curious second look at his elder sibling. Marty could tell he'd been in a scrap and running about from how generally ruffled his feathers seemed to be and the glow of sweat. It was fun, to have these tables turned. The youngest Miller started to chuckle. He was enjoying this and practically bounced back and forth as he teased his brother.

"Oy... I just got kicked out of a stolen car at gunpoint but I think you're having a bloody worse day than me aren't you!?"

The pilot pointed at his brother and motioned over towards his fridge.

"Go-seh, mate, grab a libation from the fridge Mason and tell me about what sort of nonsense you've gotten us into. Shame about the business by the way. We never talk about that!"

Marty himself started to just walk over and get the beers rather than wait for his sibling to take one. The urgency of Mason's business clearly not quite dawning upon him yet. Though if Marty had been checking his spam folder he might have seen the message marked urgent from Madeleine about the crooked movie producers currently attempting to seize the family's assets. The way the company charter was drawn, every member of the Miller family was an equal owner of equity in the company, even their e-mail filtering youngest who was off being a low level criminal and underground racer when he just as easily have been a pilot for the family business. Even if all the news about the family business wasn't getting sent to a folder that automatically emptied itself every 30 days, a simple pilot job just wasn't his style. There was a certain... sexiness to being a crook, or an underground racer than being a nepotism hire at your family's mercenary business didn't have.

Marty popped the top off a bottle and handed it to his brother as he quizzed him almost giggling.

"SoOooOo... Who's wife has gotten you into trouble...Or who's husband eh?"

There was a buzz at his intercom. He turned to look at it quizzically. Pivoting back around he was about to sip his beer but stopped.

"Your not taking the piss right now, and this isn't some sort of wacky stunt right? Dad's not taking us all on one of those weird interactive murder mystery experience things again? I bloody hated that. Who likes mysteries? Just a bunch wank about coppers staring at a wall and feeling moody about it. Christ!"

The buzzer blared again.

Marty shook his head. This wasn't an interactive murder mystery. Probably somebody checking the buzzer to see if he's home while somebody else tried to break in.
Empress Heists IC / Re: A Shipful of Dollars
August 14, 2019, 07:32:55 pm
Now. Rooftop nearby.

Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum.

Mad Marty slapped the dashboard of the MedEvac shuttle he'd helped procure a few days before. He'd only been pulling jobs on the dark side of the law for a minute, but so far, this... the waiting. This was the worst part. The low hum of adrenaline and nothing to do with it yet. The desperate yearning for a distraction but the overriding need to stay on task and in the moment. He slammed his fists down in one final thud and brought his forehead down as well. With a groan he brought his face back up and watched the nearby building, waiting for the call to swoop in and get everybody out of there.

But not now... Now...Now was the time to hurry up and wait.

"Gāisǐ de... I thought being a criminal was going to be more fun...Generally..."

Two days ago, Nueva Promesa.

Marty always liked New Promise as the anglophiles called it. But he did try and honor the city's true name, but when he said it it always came out awkward and like every vowel stretched on for miles. He took Spanish at school, but his accent was unshakable. He picked this city on Osiris for the local food, yes, but also for the incredible response time of their EMT's. Miller figured sneaking onto a landing pad patrolled by armed feds was a great idea if he wanted to spend the rest of his life dead. So the mischievous Briton made a quick call to "999".

"Oh god... I'm such a bloody failure... the walls!!! Ohhh the walls they're closing in, mate!! I can't f***ing cope any longer! I'm gonna jump....Yeah... I'm at the corner of.... oy!! What corner is... bugger sorry... Donde estoy?.....Gracias.... Yeah anyway I'm gonna jump off the building at the corner of Bolivar aaand... Del Toro... "

Two minutes later, their shuttle was speeding down Del Toro from the nearest pad. Marty was still on the line with "999", his performance continuing:

"The walls are closing in again!! Oh god! I'm sorry, Norma!"

They were on first name basis at this point. But now Norma had to listen to "Edgar" die. As the shuttle ripped along the Nueva Promesa skyline, it seemed "Edgar" had been a little untruthful about more than his identity and his intent to take his own life. A grinning Johann dropped a pig carcass from the rooftop of an office building. His eye for dropping decent analogues for a heavy-set human was dead on, and before they could reach the corner of Bolivar and Del Toro, they felt the impact as porky slammed into the roof at terminal velocity, blood splashing across the cockpit window.

Coming to an abrupt halt a the middle of the intersection, the shocked crew scrambled out and saw the bits of flesh and bone scattered along the street behind them. A pair flash-bang grenades bounced into the middle of the street in front of them. Dazed by the dual explosions of noise and flashes of blinding light, they didn't notice a man in a Father Christmas mask running up and into the open shuttle. He'd trained on this model in the simulator, and it wasn't too hard find the vertical takeoff controls. Ignoring the normal safety parameters for a vertical takeoff, he slammed down the throttle and the blast of wind threw the first responders onto their butts, and Mad Marty was again racing, this time through the skyline of one of his favorite towns with a big bag of American style Mexican food to fuel up for the tune-up.

This was the fun part.

Now. Rooftop nearby.

Miller's stomach growled. He purposefully hadn't eaten today so he wouldn't need to you know what during the mission. But now he was thinking about burritos. The failed stuntman banished the thought of dinner from his mind. He tried to think of another way to distract himself again...His comm line remained annoyingly silent. Miller felt his fingers start to tap again.

Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum...
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