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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#452
"So basically, do we run a risk of getting shot at by a fellow affiliated with OWL, or do we run risk of getting shot at by... other fellows affiliated with OWL.
...I fecking hate this mission
Ugh, we just have too little intel. We don't know how likely Hosef'Wa is to get us shot, we don't know how likely the gang is to get us shot and we don't know how less likely they are to get us shot should we give them a gift from him."
Warning: do not ask about physics unless you really want to know about physics.
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#454
"And we also don't know what strings come attached to the gift. They're on uneasy terms, that could easily mean that he'll give us the thing and also set some guys onto us to grab everything once we're out of their base again."

Frank shakes his head

"No, I don't think we should go to Hosef'Wa. We don't know enough anyway and I don't want to bring more people into this that can act behind our backs."

*Throws Nilo an inconspicious glance*
Apparently, sometimes stuff might happen.
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#455
F4wk35 wrote:
Sat Aug 10, 2019 12:55 am
"And we also don't know what strings come attached to the gift. They're on uneasy terms, that could easily mean that he'll give us the thing and also set some guys onto us to grab everything once we're out of their base again."

Frank shakes his head

"No, I don't think we should go to Hosef'Wa. We don't know enough anyway and I don't want to bring more people into this that can act behind our backs."

*Throws Nilo an inconspicious glance*
I shake my head. "Are you guys forgetting that we're going to negotiate with a bunch of people who hate our guts and have no reason to help us whatsoever? If we manage to get some kind of peace offering it'd make them much more likely to help us out. Hosef'wa, at least, has some reason to help us."
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#456
cuisinart8 wrote:
Sat Aug 10, 2019 7:31 pm
Hosef'wa, at least, has some reason to help us.
"And absolutely not out of the kindness of his heart. Don't you-...No...we're wasting too much time with discussions. We have made our points, stood to our positions and haven't gotten one step ahead."

The ex-janitor puts a hand over his face, breathing deeply.

"We'll throw a coin. Head is Hosef'Wa, tails is going directly. It's either that, eternal discussions that don't get us anywhere, or splitting up according to opinion...which, I shouldn't have to say, is a dumb idea."
Apparently, sometimes stuff might happen.
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#457
Turn 13

  The shopkeeper chuckles. "You can call me 'shevar', if you like. Many do. 'Grandpa' will also do, or 'Kiibar'. You're not the first visitors he's lured into my shop."
  Frank isn't surprised. "He has talent!" he says, complimenting the little kid.
  Feeling reminded of her own grandpa, Saoirse smiles warmly and adds, "Aye, his standard is b-better than mine was at his age."
  Maki grins widely at the unexpected praise. He seems to feel quite proud of himself. His grandpa pats him on the head.
  As Maki and his shevar begin discussing something in Fysar, the four inmates begin to browse the shop, looking for anything interesting. Saoirse sees some hovering podlights for 150 plat each, and Frank discerns that the medkits are almost all 50, with the exception of the Bhezian kits. Interesting, the Bhezian version costs 80, even despite being the same size as the rest of them. Bhezians can't use standard medical supplies, however, so that may factor into it.
  Caleb grabs a human medkit, noting as he does so that it's nowhere near Tartarus quality. A Tartarus bandage has self-sealing nanotech built into them, along with antibiotics and a light form of contaminant repulsion, burn-soothing gels, and the ability to pull smaller cuts closed. These bandages, on the other hand, are simply gauze and padding, with a few tubes of soothing gels and antibiotic sprays on the side. To these people, it's probably the best of the best. All the same, Caleb figures it's better to be safe than sorry.
  Saoirse attempts to get one of the hoverlights to work - or, "pods" as they're often called (distinct from normal podlights, which are typically attached to something in the manner of a lantern). It takes a couple tries to get it functioning properly - not entirely a good sign, but there does seem to be a trick to it. It's cheap stuff - at least by Tartarus standards - but it's decent enough, and provides omnidirectional lighting... which is good, because the merc suits don't have helmet lamps. After a little effort, she manages to get it to follow her around as she walks, and she is rather pleased with this accomplishment. It's typical zero-G gear: a stellaplex-based anti-G unit attached to a motor with some basic sensors to permit it to track and follow the nearest heat source.
  "What do you make of the pods, Saoirse?" Nilo asks, watching her endeavors.
  Saoirse is startled out of her reverie. "Oh! I, uh - I figured it might b-be handy to have some light that we don't have to hold. We k-keep getting in dark places..."
  Nilo nods in disinterest and heads over to the front counter. Kiibar looks up attentively from his conversation with Maki. "May I help?" the shopkeeper asks.
  "We are looking for a particular person, shevar. A fellow merchant, if you will. Can you help us?" As Nilo speaks, he casually lays a few plat on the countertop - three, to be exact.
  The little "gift" doesn't escape the old fysar's notice. He looks over it ponderously. A few plat is hardly enough to purchase even a cheap beverage, and in some circles such a small "bribe" might be considered an insult. On the other hand, it does imply that whoever Nilo is looking for isn't that hard to find. But, unfortunately for Nilo, Kiibar isn't one to accept bribes in the first place. He hesitates, and then leans down to Maki, saying something to him in another language. Maki nods and skips off out the door, waving happily to the REKT inmates as he does so. "Byyeeeee!" he calls out. The four inmates wave at him as he goes; Frank chuckles to himself about how adorable he finds the little kid, while Caleb and Saoirse approach the counter - one with a medkit and an "egg-thing", and the other with her hoverlight.
  After Maki has left, Kiibar turns back to Nilo. His smile is gone. "It depends on who you're looking for," the shopkeeper says stonily. "I know better than to go poking in places I shouldn't."
  Caleb steps forward quickly and tries to rectify Kiibar's apprehension before it gets out of hand. "We just need directions to another shopkeeper," he reassures him.
  "Another shopkeeper?" Kiibar asks, his eyes bulging to closely examine Caleb's expression. Overtly cautious, he glances between him, Nilo, and Saoirse. "Which shopkeeper would that be?"
  "Hosef'Wa," Caleb answers.
  Kiibar looks immensely troubled by this, and shifts his eyes away, changing money for Saoirse's pod and giving it back to her. "Is this why you came here? To ask me this?"
  Saoirse takes the pod and places it in a pouch. "Maki m-mentioned he was a bad fellow... and t-that sounds like something we want to know about b-before setting foot there..."
  "We were hoping you could tell us more about him," Caleb adds. "We'd be willing to pay if you want, and you can rest assured that no matter what, your name won't come up. We don't want to cause you any trouble." Then, as an afterthought, he holds up the little egg-thing he's carrying. "By the way, what are these things? Cooking timers?"
  At the sight of the little device, the old shevar's face softens. He leans on tiptoe over his counter, reaching forward, and plucks the egg from Caleb's grasp. Then he grips it gently and twists it open. The top half of the egg swings back as if on a hinge, and a tiny diorama rises from the interior like a pop-up book: a little asteroid with tiny, oversized figures on its surface, while a spaceship "flies" above it on a tiny rod; all of this rests above a multitude of gears. He flips a little switch on the side, and music begins playing - Fysarian music - as the little figurines dance across the surface of the asteroid, and the ship orbits it above.
  "A m-music box?" one of the inmates asks in surprise. She wasn't expecting this.
  "My wife makes them," the old fysar explains fondly. "Or she used to... before her hands got the shakes. She was so good at intricate gear arrangements. I tried once... but it didn't go well. Ah - and it's also a computer, in the top half. She didn't make those, she just installed them. I'm sure it has a timer somewhere, if that's what you need." He flips the switch back off, carefully closes the egg, and hands it back to Caleb with a soft sigh.
  "So. Hosef'Wa," Kiibar mutters, reluctantly returning to the subject. "He's a weaponsmith, and a well-known one at that, with a small army of weapon fanatics at his disposal. He mostly sides with the mercenaries - or, more accurately, he's sided with the Outer World League ever since his daughter... well." His voice trails off. "Anyway, rumor is that even the Fuhodo Mercenaries are afraid of crossing him. He's been around for a long, long time, and made more enemies than he has made friends. But none can touch him."
  "We're sorry for dropping in on you and Maki with this," Frank apologizes, squeezing between the other inmates to set a hiltorel medkit on the countertop. "I'll have this one, please."
  The shopkeeper rings up Frank's purchase, followed by the medical kit Caleb picked out. "That's all I'm going to tell you," he says with finality. "You're foolish to seek him out. He despises humans more than most."
  "I feel like that goes for a lot of people on this station..." Saoirse mumbles softly to herself. Then, "How m-much for one of these?" she asks, pointing at the egg in Caleb's hand.
  "That's 175," Kiibar replies.
  Caleb looks the music box over. It's oddly beautiful, despite Kiibar's obvious poverty. It's easy to tell that someone put a lot of love and effort into it; even the blue and silver handpainted detailing on the outside is done with a high degree of polish and professionalism. For some reason it strikes a bit of a chord with the soldier, and almost on impulse, he counts out 175 plat and hands it over to Kiibar silently.
  The old fysar nods and accepts the payment graciously. "I do hope you enjoy it."
  Nilo, pondering what they've been told, turns to the others at the counter. "The more time and effort spent on Hosef'Wa is less elsewhere. Should we continue looking for him, or move on? I feel we won't be welcomed by any means, considering what we've learned, and already know."
  Saoirse, hesitantly, replies, "Em... l-let's finish our shopping here first, and then we can look where we g-go next." She looks acutely constipated as she says this, which is unfortunate; she was actually trying to convey an expression that was supposed to mean, "Not in front of the shopkeeper, Nilo. He can still hear us." Then, to Frank - "Frank, you done?"
  Frank stows the medkit he bought and nods. "So long as everyone paid properly, we should get going, yes..." Then, to Kiibar, "We're sorry to have intruded on you like this. Please have a nice day, shevar."
  "Thank you again, shevar," Caleb adds, with a smile and a respectful nod. "You've helped us a lot."
  "And thank you, as well," the old alien says courteously.

  The four inmates exit the shop and huddle nearby, discussing their options in a fairly laid-back, if quiet, manner. Frank and Nilo are both worried that Hosef'Wa will shoot them, while Caleb is fairly certain that Big Daneelo wouldn't have sent them there to die. Saoirse is undecided. The inmates are having trouble reaching an agreement on a course of action.

~~~

  To Vrish Lisathl's polite request for more information on the rest of the REKT crew, Teaw (previously Vynkor) responds sarcastically. "I mean, you can see another one right beside me, can't you?" (Vrish does not seem particularly amused by this.)
  "Teaw, you know the best part about my initial plan? The one where we talked to the aliens?" Glory (previously Sukava) asks. She turns to look at Vrish and says pointedly, "It was the truth. We need money. We are looking for work. We went to the frogs to find work. And... I don't think they liked our rates."
  Vrish nods thoughtfully. "Money and work, you say? That's plausible enough, especially given the present state of your ship. There are plenty of photos of it being passed around. The common talk is that the Nemesis doesn't even have warp capability at the present time. But... I must ask - what does "went to the frogs" mean, precisely? Is this a dialectal idiom?"
  "Yes, it is definitely an idiom, and it would be too much to explain right now, if you don't want to be late for dinner," Teaw says, with the briefest glare at Glory.
  Glory notices and nods affirmatively. "Yes, definitely an idiom," she agrees. "Hmm... Perhaps, do you have work for two mercenaries?"
  Vrish decides Glory's question isn't worth responding to. "Interesting dialect. I will remember to look up the meaning of 'frogs' later. I've not heard the word before.
  "Now," he says, changing the subject back, "Why don't we start back at the beginning, before we get too distracted. Could you both give me a synopsis of the events that have transpired since you arrived at Fuhodo Station? That might be a better way to go about this. The more detail, the better." He doesn't seem remotely satisfied with what they've said so far, although if they're trying his patience, he's not showing it yet. His face is the same mask as ever.
  Glory tries to answer, but it turns into a rant. "We quite literally walked across the station, got in through a door near the Hole, walked some more, and then tried to get a job with the fro... Fysar. And they - I can't stress this enough - were rude. I really wish I had my hands free here so I could articulate my words with hand motions better, but they were unwelcoming, unreasonable, and worse, incredibly trigger-happy! I don't know how they ever do business! 'Shoot first, ask questions never' is a terrible policy! We, professionals, have standards, but it was optimistic of us to assume they did!"
  "Wait," Teaw says to Vrish, interrupting. "Aren't we supposed to be isolated if you want to corroborate our stories? Should one of us step outside?"
  Glory pauses, and then wholeheartedly agrees. "She has an excellent point, honestly. You want the prisoners close enough to hear each other's screams, but far enough not to hear each other's words. Maybe occasionally close enough to see each other's broken, burned, ruined corpses carried out."
  Vrish smiles in wry amusement, raising his eyebrows and straightening out his clothing. "Are you offering me advice on how to interrogate you? How charming you both are." He chuckles pleasantly. "No, no, I do understand what you're saying, but you see - that's not my style. No, rather - I find it more effective to keep all parties in the same room, so each can watch as I torture their comrades. Even if watching their companions suffer isn't enough to break them, the knowledge that it's going to happen to them next typically is."
  He pauses here to let it sink in. The silence is uncanny; it's so silent in the little room that the two inmates can almost hear their own hearts beating.
  "I knew those stains weren't wine!" Teaw finally says, referencing the dark stains on Vrish's already-dark clothing. She starts fidgeting a little, trying to cut the rest of the way through her bindings whenever Vrish isn't looking.
  When Vrish speaks again, his voice has lost some degree of its pleasantness. "Now, ladies... I know for a fact that you didn't board the station alone. There are other Tartarus operatives here. You know it, and I know it. All I want to know is who they are, how they got here, and where they're likely to go. That's all."
  "Oh, a classic!" Glory bursts out in a sardonic tone. "I can guarantee I don't know, and I can also guarantee you won't believe me! How exciting! ...But fine, I think we'll play along. The truth is, I have no idea. Me and Teaw are on our own. We just know what happened between the two of us. I told you, we literally walked the whole way here, alone, only to get our hopes and dreams betrayed by frogs!"

  "Frogs again," Vrish muses. "Perhaps a dialectal slur? But no matter."
  Teaw gets a few more strokes in on her bonds, feeling very thankful that she got them to add a serrated edge to her mechanical hand. These guys really should've tied her with a wider band; she's almost free.
  Vrish wearily rises from his chair, straightening his shirt with a sigh. "I did quite sincerely hope it wouldn't come to this, but it appears you both steadfastly - and mistakenly, I might add - believe you're upholding some noble, righteous cause."
  He maneuvers his way to the back corner, his tentacles flap-flapping on the ground as he goes. The inmates watch in silence (Teaw sawing at her straps) as he wheels out the cart containing the Nazas JZ-49. He lets his fingers hover absently over its switches, but seems to hesitate, as though he's reluctant to actually start it up. Instead, he pulls some sort of nozzled attachment from the side of it and brings it away. He snaps a few pieces together and is soon holding something that looks rather strikingly sinister - a handled "gun" attached to the machine via an array of cables and reinforced tubing.
  "It's a fairly simple machine," he explains, holding the nozzle up to the light. "Glory seems to have some knowledge of it, so I'll elaborate for Teaw's sake." He turns to Teaw in particular and addresses her. "If you noticed, Glory doesn't seem particularly perturbed, and there's a perfectly good reason for this. The Nazas JZ-49 - that is, the Nazas Jazeirau Z'uqun-49, or 'simulated damage' to use its full name - does precisely what its name indicates: As long as the person can't actually see where the interrogator places the nozzle, they will feel like the interrogator is burning chunks out of their flesh, while in reality any damage is purely superficial."
  Glory nods at Vrish's uninspired textbook explanation. Technically correct, but no points for style.
  Vrish cradles the device in his four hands and gives an faux-apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, as I mentioned, this model is defective. It has good days, and bad days, but on average pulling the trigger only results in it firing once out of every five tries or so. Worse, they installed too powerful of a generator on it, and instead of causing superficial damage, it shatters bones and pulps internal organs.
  "Now, let me be perfectly clear," Vrish continues, stepping forwards so the light is behind him, his face in shadow. "You may believe you can lie to me and I won't know the difference. You may believe I can't immediately fact-check anything you say. You may believe your allies are fine, but here are the facts."
  Teaw finally breaks through her last strap, but keeps them tightly clutched to her chest so as not to alert him until the moment is right. For a moment, she's afraid he's noticed, but no - he doesn't seem to have. He levels the nozzle in her direction, but it's not to stave off a threat, but rather to use it to point. He seems to have (correctly) decided that Teaw is going to be the easiest one to crack.
  "I know you're lying to me," he says, his voice emotionless, "and I'm tired of playing games. There are four inmates in hiding, remnants of the initial attack on the station. We're searching for an ex-janitor named Frank, and have footage of three more. But they're even worse off than you are. You see..." He pauses, letting the air clear a bit as he leans closer. "Four of your squadmates are already dead: Bob and Ishmael, and two others calling themselves 'Killshot' and 'Terminator' - one with an ego and the other with a drinking problem." A sly smile curls at the corner of his lips. "You don't want to join them, do you?"
  
~~~

  "Get what I'm saying?" Men'ko asks, having finished his explanation of Fuhodo-ian politics.
  Silence reigns as the three inmates present ponder whether or not to explain that they honestly couldn't give two shits about the station's politics.
  Yuuji finally speaks up, just as the silence begins to get a little bit awkward. "So... Men'ko," he says, straightening up in his seat. "Now that you got us in your back room, and filled in on the situation... What do you want with us? We're still out for some work to do, and aren't exactly picky about who we work for."
  "Ideally," Brom adds, "we'd like a job that will play hi-plat, so that we may complete our glorious mission."
  Men'ko raises an eyebrow.
  With a bit of a smile, Brom continues, "Of course, we're also willing to work some of the other jobs you might have in mind. Can't really say no to a little extra plat!"
  "To business, then," Men'ko nods, grating the stick between his teeth. "All right. I have two separate jobs for you to choose from - or you could choose them both, if you'd rather."
  The inmates nod, listening.
  "The first one will take you a bit into the Exclusion Zone," he begins, straightening up. "See, some clients of mine were setting up a private colony, or research base, over there. Fysar, mainly. They were handling most of it themselves, but they wanted to procure a rugged all-terrain vehicle for exploration and border patrol. Lovely piece of tech, too - artigrav systems, top of the line shielding, built-in 2G-rated jump thrusters, and a light cannon turret... just in case." He pauses, to make sure the inmates are paying attention, and then finishes, "I never heard back from them. Not a single payment. So now I want it back." He snaps his fingers in the direction of one of his bodyguards. "Likari, go fetch my holopad, will you? I think I left it in the kitchens."
  Likari nods, and leaves without a word.
  "That's in the Nektox system," Men'ko goes on. "You could take that one, or, alternatively, a little 'evacuation mission' for a small Azquad colony down on Opalius, in the Aphenar system."
  Buck interjects, "Huh, I've read somethin' 'bout that, too."
  Men'ko acknowledges Buck with a nod. "From what they said, they have these big flying bugs that keep breaking into their facilities and venting them. They can't keep up anymore, and they wanted me to find a way to get them offworld in a hurry. Offered a surprisingly good payment for it, too."
  "Y'know," Buck says thoughtfully, "I dun' really like this refu- ugh, refugee's the word, right? - kind o' stuff. Usually, they ain't got shit to pay you, n' if they do n' are willin' to make it worth your time, they're either lyin' through their teeth, or dealin' with somethin' so nasty that you dun' want no hand in it either."
  "It could be either of those," Men'ko agrees. "I'm short on intel, but I'd expect you to be able to handle it if you accepted. Is that the job you're interested in?"
  Buck shakes his head. "No, that first thing you mentioned, 'bout that holo-car or whatever - that sounds interestin' to me. You dun' go out to some haunted shithole with equipment worth a fortune just to do "research" - you're goin' out there 'cause there's some ancient alien tomb filled with crap worth n' even bigger fortune, or one o' them rare, what's them called... Anomealous Tins! The way I see it, we go out there, fetch that car, kill whatever horror's skulkin' down there, loot whatever the hell else we find, sell it on the black market n' make some nice dough."
  Men'ko is staring in openmouthed confusion at Buck, one eyebrow raised in a very quizzical gesture. He glances at the bodyguard standing behind his chair, but the fysar just shrugs. Giving up on deciphering Buck's apparent lunacy, he decides not to reply at all, helped along by the fact that Brom speaks up just then, providing a convenient distraction from Buck's ramblings: "I have a few questions before we accept. Firstly, what sort of resistance can we expect in the exclusion zone? Secondly, how are we to aid in the evacuation of the Opalius colony? And thirdly - what payment can we expect?"

  Likari shows up at that moment, panting and flustered, with a PDA in hand. "Your holopad, Mr. Mokila," he says, handing the device over. "Apologies - it wasn't, uh - it wasn't where you said it would be."
  Disinterested, Men'ko takes it and flips it on. "Thanks. Where was it?"
  "On one of the front tables in the restaurant."
  Simulataneously, Men'ko's head and those of his other three bodyguards whip around to face Likari. "...The restaurant?" Men'ko asks, his voice low.
  Seeming anxious, Likari nods mutely. He seems to be the youngest there.
  Men'ko frowns and says something in Fysarian to two of his other guards, who quickly leave the room. Men'ko turns back with a smile, tapping at his PDA. "Sorry for the interruption, gentlemen. As to payment, I can offer you... let's see... 400 hype for the evacuation. For the recovery of my rover... 448 hype. So. As to the details: For the rover, there are no 'ancient alien tombs'." This is directed specifically at Buck.
  Visibly deflating with disappointment, Buck mutters, "Huh... you'd think they'd want such a fancy piece o' tech for somethin' 'specially dangerous."
  Men'ko only shrugs. "It's an untouched, uninhabited world. No dangerous fauna, either. I do, however, want you to teach them a lesson they won't soon forget: 'You don't steal from Mokila.' You know... rough them up a bit. Make them regret it, but don't destroy them outright. It's all legal - it was part of the contract when they signed it." He gives an amused, in-joke sort of smile. "As to the evacuation, all they want you to do is protect the landing pad and the path there from the base. You should be able to handle it - after all, you escaped the surface of Nanyej, so the Nemesis clearly has some ability to handle high-G environments. You actually might be better suited for it than anyone else I have on hand."
  "So, the rover... We can smash shit up, take anythin' that has value n' ain't bolted to the ground, n' kill anyone that puts up a fight n' ain't too important?" Buck asks, flipping the subject back again. "Just not, like, nuke the place or somethin'? I've dun' did some o' these kinds o' jobs in the past, n' some people have different meanings to the word "rough up". Just makin' sure we're on the same page?"
  "No nukes," Men'ko says firmly, with a stern glare to make sure he gets his point across. "That's final. Nukes render the deal void and I'll expect you to pay me back for subsequent loss of clientele. I don't think you can afford that." Then, aside, he says to one of the guards, "Ebafika, laba aknaran ifar tvanir."
  "Kiha iviri," the fysar replies obediently, and quickly exits the room.
  Buck is surprised and disheartened that Men'ko would order him not to use nukes. He'd expected that a squid would be bloodthirstier than that.
  "Your payment is acceptable," Brom says with a suave grin. "I'm sure the crew will be pleased! In fact, I'm considering taking on both jobs. First, however, I'd like for us to be clear on how we deal with the thieves. Shall we kill a few of them, and leave the rest, or injure most of them but leave them alive? And further, should we let them know why we're there before we deliver due punishment? As professionals, we will try to stay as close to your wishes as possible."
  A grin breaks across Men'ko's face; it looks alarmingly out-of-place on a hiltorel, and a bit disturbing: a wide array of sharp teeth beneath the noseless face and the big, dark eyes. "I'm liking this little group more and more. Can't figure why Squigg didn't want to deal with you, but that's his loss."
  The three inmates glance at each other uneasily. They're certainly not going to fill Men'ko in on that little detail.
  "As to the specifics: I just want you to cause a little mayhem. Preferably as few deaths as possible, but I'd encourage a few injuries as long as they can heal their wounded. Avoid major damage to medical supplies, food storage, and power generators. You can fukc up their habitations as much as you like, though. Labs are a possibility too, but require a little more caution. You don't want to flat-out ruin them, see. You just want to teach them a lesson. Hangars are all right, but leave them at least one of their longer-range ships. You can demolish whatever defenses you find, especially AA, if they have any, and they probably will - they're not on good terms with the mining guilds at Derge, so they'll probably have something to stave off rogue raiders. Oh, and, uh..." He grins again. "Feel free to loot whatever you see fit, up to roughly the shelf value of the rover."
  Buck listens hungrily to the delightfully-detailed description of the havoc that Men'ko is encouraging him to wreak, but Yuuji feels uneasy about the whole thing: "Killshot, Terminator... Before before we accept a job, I'd like to note that supporting an evacuation gets us way more goodwill than thugging at some thieves... and as we have an acute lack of goodwill at the moment, I'd prefer the evacuation support..."
  Men'ko shrugs all four of his arms. "Up to you, gentlemen. You can inform me of your decision at any time before you leave the station. I just need to know which jobs I'll need to delegate elsewhere. Just shoot me a tell when you're ready."
  "Fair enough," Brom says.
  "You'll probably get some goodwill from the Azquads for rescuing them, but keep in mind they hate pretty much everybody anyway," Men'ko cautions. "There's not much goodwill to be had from them. On the other hand, the job at Nektox will probably earn you some dislike from the scientific community in the cluster, but I don't figure your group would mind that too much."
  While Yuuji really likes the idea of helping the Azquads, Buck is still more interested in the other mission. "Where'd ya want us t' take the rover?"
  "Here, or leave it with my associates at Derge. Either is fine," Men'ko says. "Just make sure you don't damage it. Not a scratch, understood?"
  At that moment, the conversation is interrupted again as Ebafika re-enters the chamber, seeming grim and in a rush. "Boss, it's FMU. They're in the kitchen and coming this way. I think they got Aquib and Havan."
  Men'ko rises quickly, taking his chewstick from his mouth. "Kitchen? FMU?" He furrows his brow, gears whirring in his mind as the processes this information. "Fukcing hell."
  Mokila and his mates seem considerably more worried than they were during the "showdown" in the restaurant. The three inmates take this as a very bad sign.

~~~~
  
  A group of soldiers exit their transport, double file, four and four, into the docks. Their commanding officer leads the way, as behind them, the troop transport takes off again. Its flight path is known to her: it will go back the way it came, keeping close to the surface of the asteroid until out of sight, and then hold position until they're ready to depart.
  Her men know the drill perfectly well. They've been practicing the mission in sims for the past week. While the mission itself is straightforward, her superiors know better than to take chances. Their orders are to head down deep into the station's bowels, meet with an inconsequential clan, retrieve a prisoner, and return. She knows nothing about the prisoner save for the girl's name and appearance. It's a need-to-know basis. She's used to that by now. So are her men: while the commander knows her men down to the last mole on their skin, to them, she is an enigma. It's the way of things.
  She knows, of course, the political situation; it's something her superiors deemed necessary. She knows about the quiet wars on the station, between the petty kings fighting for scraps. They cling to its surface like parasites, tunneling through the rock in a sad imitation of civilization. She knows that a ship of Tartarus Incorporated is parked at the docks, currently under control of pirates. They will put up a struggle to survive, but eventually fall like the rest. It's another pawn down, in this mighty interstellar game of chess - although she herself is forced to acknowledge that she's merely a pawn as well. Nevertheless, almost none of this directly concerns her, and from a wider perspective, almost all of it is meaningless.
  Beneath a facade of serene repose, seemingly calm like the mirror surface of a silent pool, she nurses a repugnance at the station, the mission, and everything it represents. She always achieved top marks in every class, every test and trial, and... well, every competition she's ever been a part of, save one... but Razebep had died soon afterwards anyway. "Accidental death during sparring practice" was the official report. No one ever knew it was her. It was perfect, just like everything else she did. Such a prodigal tactician and warrior deserved better than this menial task, and she knew it - her superiors knew it - even her own men could likely sense it. No, something seemed off, and she had realized that from the beginning. It was a test - she knew it must be, for nothing else made sense. The insulting part was that somehow, her superiors still thought she needed testing. Had she not proven herself well enough already? Or, perhaps, did they not yet fully trust her?
  But it was a pointless waste of mental energy to dwell on it. She would finish the mission, and she would return.
  Gods help anyone that got in her way.
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#458
F4wk35 wrote:
Sun Aug 11, 2019 9:27 am
"We'll throw a coin. Head is Hosef'Wa, tails is going directly. It's either that, eternal discussions that don't get us anywhere, or splitting up according to opinion...which, I shouldn't have to say, is a dumb idea."
"Yeah, no splitting up, I'm not letting any of ye out of my sight again.
I'm starting to lean to Caleb's idea, which probably makes tossin' a coin the best option."
Warning: do not ask about physics unless you really want to know about physics.
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#460
[IC]Vynkor[/IC]
Lisathl wrote:
Sun Aug 11, 2019 1:19 pm
Unfortunately, as I mentioned, this model is defective. It has good days, and bad days, but on average pulling the trigger only results in it firing once out of every five tries or so. Worse, they installed too powerful of a generator on it, and instead of causing superficial damage, it shatters bones and pulps internal organs.
My face brightens, even as my hands shake. "Hey, I could help you with that! Maybe when we're done here we can come to an arrangement. My rates are very reasonable."
Lisathl wrote:
Sun Aug 11, 2019 1:19 pm
"Four of your squadmates are already dead: Bob and Ishmael, and two others calling themselves 'Killshot' and 'Terminator' - one with an ego and the other with a drinking problem." A sly smile curls at the corner of his lips. "You don't want to join them, do you?"
"Oh, aye, throw out some names we've never heard before. 'Oh lookit me, I'm a human named Bob.' At least put some effort into it, jeez." I think for a second, eyeing the implement. "Oh yeah, I remember now. There was a guy in our squad. Don't remember his name—only known him for what, two days? We haven't seen him since we jumped across, though—he went off, uh" I nod in a random direction, as though I have any idea of which way's which down here "that way. For all I know he's frozen to death in orbit by now, or maybe splattered halfway around this radsoaked rockball. You counting him?"

When Lisathl approaches with the overclocked agonizer, I throw off my bonds and attack him, aiming first to immobilize and then to incapacitate, using every tool at my disposal: Hands, blade, shackles, my body weight, even the instrument in Lisathl's hands if I can get it to bear on him.
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#461
"Dead?" Make the face a normal person would if they saw a cat being run over before their eyes ( not a face Sukava would make in that situation, "They're dead?"
Do my very best to stunned grief.

Wait for the response.

Burst out in maniacal laughter.
"Teaw, Teaw! Did you hear that? They're dead! Those idiots got themselves slaughtered like pigs while finding a daytime job!"
"Vrish..." Attempt to wipe a non-existent tear of laughter with my shoulder, "Vrish, I know you're interrogating us, and I really hate to interrupt, but please, please tell me how they died!"
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#462
[IC]Vynkor[/IC]
Marina wrote:
Sun Aug 11, 2019 4:01 pm
"Teaw, Teaw! Did you hear that? They're dead! Those idiots got themselves slaughtered like pigs while finding a daytime job!"
"Vrish..." Attempt to wipe a non-existent tear of laughter with my shoulder, "Vrish, I know you're interrogating us, and I really hate to interrupt, but please, please tell me how they died!"
I raise an eyebrow and sideye Glory.
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#463
Hema wrote:
Sun Aug 11, 2019 3:44 pm
"Prepare yourselves, men! For a worthwhile battle has finally found us!
Mokila! Give the word and we will fight alongside your men, and reduce our foes to bloody pulp!
We can consider our job options later! For the record, I'm in favor of us taking both!"
Rather hesitant to fight alongside a squid, and thinking somewhat rationally:

"Maybe Mokila here dun' wants to be seen with us? N' especially not with us fightin' alongside him? We ain't exactly good for, what's them inner-worl'ers call it....PR?"
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#464
F4wk35 wrote:
Sun Aug 11, 2019 9:27 am
"We'll throw a coin. Head is Hosef'Wa, tails is going directly. It's either that, eternal discussions that don't get us anywhere, or splitting up according to opinion...which, I shouldn't have to say, is a dumb idea."
"While I don't exactly like the idea of choosing our strategy by random chance, we're not going to get anywhere by arguing. Let's do the coinflip."
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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

#465
Alpha
"Prepare yourselves, men!" Brom cries valiantly, drawing his assault rifle and holding it up in the air in a pose worthy of any mid-to-low-tier anime. "A worthwhile battle has finally found us! Mokila! Give the word and we will fight alongside mmfmfmm mfmfm -"

Brom is very fortunately cut short as Ebafika (at Mokila's order) clamps a hand over Brom's mouth. "Shhh!" the fysar hisses. "They'll hear you."

Mokila is hardly paying attention, pacing back and forth across the room, head-tentacles whipping about as he pivots. "Why? Why would they come now? They weren't followed - they wouldn't have followed them without attacking. They wouldn't have risked a larger firefight when they were already by themselves. It doesn't make sense!" Then, distractedly to Ebafika: "Get your hand off his mouth and call in another squad of guards."

"Already did, iviri," Ebafika replies. He does not move his hand. Brom is starting to look a little disgruntled.

"Good, good," Mokila mutters. Then, suddenly, he stops short mid-pace; his eyes narrow. "Squiligan," he hisses. "He would've known. He was trying to take both of us out at once, if not by firefight then by association..."

Buck speaks up, a benefit of not having a hand over his mouth. "Maybe you dun' want to be seen with us? N' especially not with us fightin' alongside you? We ain't exactly good for, what's them inner-worl'ers call it... PR?"

"I certainly do not," Mokila says brusquely. "Not right now. Not until the station politics settle down. So. That means you gentlemen need to leave. Now. And quietly. No shouting." (This last is leveled directly at Brom.) "Ebafika, lead them out." He gives a few directions in Fysarian.

Ebafika gives a short nod, takes his hand off of Brom's mouth and motions for the trio of REKT members to follow as he heads to the doorway.

~~~

Gamma
"Yeah, throw out some names we've never heard of before. At least put some effort into it, jeez," Teaw says, attempting (and failing) to put on an unconcerned expression. Her eyeroll comes across as robotic and, quite honestly, terrified. Even her hands are shaking.

"Dead?" Glory looks shocked, and stunned. "They're dead?" Her face melts into an expression of horror.

Vrish gives a very slow nod.

Glory's expression of horror evaporates in an instant as she bursts out in maniacal laughter. "Teaw! Teaw! Did you hear that? They're dead! Those idiots got themselves slaughtered like pigs while finding a daytime job!"

Vrish smirks slightly at Teaw, with an expression that appears to mean, "So much for your shoddy attempts at deception."

"Oh yeah, I remember now. There was a guy in our squad," Teaw says, a bit uncomfortably. "Don't remember his name - only known him for, what, two days? We haven't seen him since we jumped across, though. He went off, uh..." she nods in a random direction, "that way. For all I know he's frozen to death in orbit by now, or maybe splattered halfway around this radsoaked rockball. You counting him?"

"Vrish!" Glory wipes a non-existent tear of laughter from her eyes with her shoulder. "Vrish, please, I know you're interrogating us, and hate to interrupt, but, please at least tell us how they died!" She erupts into a smothered snort-laugh again.

Vrish looks thoughtful. "Hmm... Perhaps. I'm allowed to tell you. But first... I'd like to know a little more about this squadmate of yours, Teaw. It seems we've finally made a sort of breakthrough." He steps slightly closer, staring her in the eyes. "Where were you when you jumped? What was his name, and what did he loo -"

But at that moment, Teaw lunges from her seat, surprising Vrish and knocking him backwards. Glory begins shouting in fake agony to drown out any sound Vrish might make - and make sound he does. He gives a little shout of surprise, almost falling, as Teaw hurls herself forwards bravely... but she may not have entirely thought this through. Her ankles are still attached to the chair, and when she leaps, the chair comes with her, sending her sprawling on the floor. She wriggles and writhes on her stomach, but as Vrish calmly gets to his feet (or tentacles, rather), Glory gradually stops shouting, seeming to realize that the escape attempt is completely botched. Teaw seems to realize this too, and stops her useless struggling and begins to feel much more afraid, craning her neck back to look at Vrish. Her hands are still shackled behind her back.

"Well, now," he says softly, a cruel smile on his lips. "You planned this together, didn't you." It's not posed as a question. "You're quite fiesty, especially for a prisoner... but we can work that out of you with a little effort." Calmly, he steps around Vynkor and switches on the Nazas JZ-49. It begins to rattle, and then hum, with something that sounds like a shaking, pumping sound coming from within.
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