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Author Topic: Ships and Scoundrels [M]  (Read 454 times)

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SkullBoy

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Ships and Scoundrels [M]
« on: August 30, 2016, 12:53:18 am »
Aello had slept with her door open, again. This meant that she was either stoned out of her mind or having nightmares. More than likely it was a combination of both. Markus sighed as he knocked on the wall outside her room before inviting himself in. Empty pill bottles sat scattered across her floor like orange landmines. A tornado had gone through here recently and her name was Aello. The drawers to her dresser lay thrown across the room and empty. A layer of clothing covered her floor and hung from every available perch. The girl herself was half-naked and lying on her bed in a puddle of cold sweat. “Come on Aello, time to wake up darling we’ve got work to do today,” Markus said, reaching out and shaking her bare leg.

“Eh, give me five more minutes,” Aello said and rolled onto her side. She curled up into a fetal position and clutched at her stomach. She was wearing a grey sleeveless shirt and black underwear. Although it wasn’t very cold she shuddered and pulled her ball even tighter. Her high had worn off and she was out of drugs. In her panic to dope herself up she had torn through her room, trying to find any narcotic to dull the nightmares. Markus shook his head and sat on the edge of a bed, with a careful touch he rubbed her shoulder. He grabbed the blanket at the foot of her bed and pulled it up to her shoulders. “Take your time,” he said, “I’ll go make us some breakfast and when you’re ready come out and eat.”

“Kay.” She responded, pulling the covers over her head. She hated showing this vulnerable side to Markus. It made him worry. He left the room and she spent a few more minutes coming down from her high. There was a knot in her gut, right below her sternum. It felt like a gremlin was in her stomach, pulling her muscles tight and pulling at her lungs. “Fuck,” she whispered and forced her body to sit up. More a test of will than a physical challenge, she stood and stretched. The gremlin was still there, but at least she was up and moving. Picking up a set of clean clothes from the ground she shut her door and stepped into the shower. She stripped naked and took a long and hot shower, stepping out once the bathroom had been swallowed by a cloud of steam. Mornings to the poor girl were all about momentum. If she paused in her routine, even for a moment, it was very likely that she’d end up doing nothing for the rest of the day.

Aello wiped the thin film of steam from her mirror and appraised herself. The scars were still there, and her prosthetic arm. She frowned. Her right eye was slightly swollen and a ring of purple surrounded it. It was tender to the touch and blinking made it sting slightly. Last night was clouded in a haze, but she could remember going out to the bar after Markus had fell asleep. Had she gotten into a bar fight? She looked at her knuckles, no bruises on her real hand and no scuff marks on her prosthetic either. However, on the sink her brass knuckles told another story. She swore under her breath. Blood stains covered the bowl of the sink and her knuckles were stained with blood as well. What had she done? Her mind jumped through hoops trying to piece together the previous night, but memories came at her like trees in a fog -- distant and scattered. Well, she figured, if it was important it’d come back and bite her in the ass eventually.

Markus was working in the kitchen when Aello stepped into the living room. She sniffed the air and with a raised eyebrow wandered over to the stovetop. Eggs, honest to god, Markus was cooking eggs, a rare treat on the space station that would’ve costed him a pretty penny. “Holy shit,” she said, “what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion” Markus said, “just figured it’d be nice for a change.”

Aello’s eyes narrowed, but she decided to let it go. After all curiosity did kill the cat, and she had no interest in fucking up a good thing by being nosy.

“Damn, that’s a pretty good shiner you’ve got there,” Markus said, pausing a moment to get a good look at her face, “who did you fuck up?”

“Oh you know, just some creep trying to have his way with me,” she lied.

“Good for you,” Markus said before chuckling, “you’d think they’d learn their lesson, you’re probably the toughest chick in this space station.”

“Oh you know how they are, only thinking with their dicks,” she said and turned away. Something felt a bit off about the whole situation. Eggs for breakfast and blood in her sink. Something happened.

Breakfast came and went. The two ate their fill of eggs, toast, and orange juice - another space station delicacy. Aello sat still, her eyes half closed. She was riding that pleasant wave of sleepiness known as a “food coma”. Markus sat across from her and with a saccharine smile asked, “did you have a good breakfast?”

Something most definitely was up. Aello raised an eyebrow and said, “yeah, thank you for the meal.”

“Good! Cause I need your help,” Markus said.

“Always something ain’t it?” she said with a sigh.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Markus said, “anyways we need to find a ship that’ll take us to Edanith.”

“For what?”

“Got a message the other night, me mom’s real sick” he said before putting on a high pitched voice, “she says ‘if I don’t get to see my baby boy’s future wife before I croak I’ll be rolling in my grave’.”

Aello glanced away. She couldn’t remember her parents. Those nebulous years before her internment into TRIM were nothing more than ghosts. Hell she couldn’t even remember her real name.

“Wait,” she said, pushing the thoughts from her head, “future wife? We aren’t even dating Markus.”

While it was true that they had fooled around on more than one occasion, a stable romantic relationship was not something that either wished for.

“Well once she gets an idea into her head there’s no stopping her,” he said.

Markus stood up and threw on his coat, and after a quick double check to make sure he had his essentials he put his hand on the door leading outside. Aello sighed and followed. Of course she’d help him, after all that’s what they did - help each other.

Offline Lion

Re: Ships and Scoundrels [M]
« Reply #1 on: September 01, 2016, 01:32:43 am »
[I hope this is okay.  If it's not okay to jump in, let me know.  And if there's anything I need to fix, let me know too, and I can edit it!]

The last thing he needed was to be wasting time.  In moments like this, there was little else to fill out his day. Except maybe hanging around in some dive bar waiting for some action.  And that seemed to be what he was doing now most of all.  Just waiting.  That and looking over his shoulder, but mostly waiting.  And never did he think it would start to get to him.  He couldn't remember being so inactive, so...fucking useless.

And despite his better inclinations it was starting to get the better of him.  What the fuck was he doing on this hung of metal anyway?  Maybe it was the perfect place to hide away, nobody knew him here.  He was just a stranger.  Another crook on a hulking mass of bolts, metal, and electrons. The only people that might just want to find him weren't going to let out that he was an escapee of an inescapable prison.

TRIM was a finicky bastard like that.  And it suited Cal just fine.  At least up until he felt someone was snooping just a bit too close to him.

To think that being in that damn hell had made him so jumpy, the very thought made him sick.  Sure he was quick on his feet before, but it seemed like now he was even more paranoid than before.  That was what being a science experiment had done to him, even more than fucking over his powers.  More than making him want to take a blade right across his wrists.  More than making him think he heard his name around every corner, muttered in harsh whispers.  He was going mad, he knew.  Until then, however, he'd just have to make the most of his time.

That, he had in spades.

Finding what to do with it was making the needles poke deeper into his brain.  Cal looked up at the bartender, a droid that turned its clockwork head and buzzed out, “Would you like a refill?” He stared into the soulless complexion of that automaton and he grinned despite himself.

“No, thanks, buddy.  I think I've had just about all I can handle,” he said and turned his cup upside down, slamming it on the counter and stepping away from it.  He paid the credits he'd owed for it and walked out of the bar.  The jacket he'd snatched.  Man he just couldn't get rid of that thing.  It was okay for a bomber coat, it serve it's purpose, but it smelled of smoke oil and made him feel like a motoglider cop with a bad mustache.

Cal touched his face idly, feeling the hair that grew there and he frowned a little.  He'd gotten sloppy, maybe that's just who he was, how he was supposed to end up after the everything. He chuckled.  Thinking, it always got in the way of everything, didn't it?  Damn straight.  He threw on the bomber jacket and lifted the collar headed out the door.

No use in hanging around wasting more credits than he could cheat.  He needed a job, just the right one that would get him back on his feet.  Bouncing around from one scam to the other would only get him by for so long.  Eventually someone would catch on, eventually someone would get even.  He'd cross that bride when he got it, of course.

But he wondered if his old contacts even still remembered him. There was always someone on the Cancer with work to be done.  Most people turned a blind eye if there was a bone thrown their way, nobody needed to know any more than what they deserved.  That was Cal's experience anyway. For now, though, he needed to get a move on.

The people here on this space station were diverse.  You never could know what you were to encounter, even on a good day. Maybe he should have watched where he was going. Because the one second he didn't look over his shoulder he could tell someone was following him.  “Fuck,” he murmured to himself. Who the hell was it that he screwed over this time?  Hell, it didn't even matter.  He just kept facing forward, kept walking, until he turned just enough to catch a glimpse of someone.

The lens plastered over the eyes, the brisk walk, the glint of metal in her palm. It wasn't going to end well. So he ran, as fast as he could, pushing past people that weren't swift enough to evade him.  Not now, he thought, not while I've gotten this far.

Goddamn, if only he could have pushed back the pair of bodies he'd collided into.  He felt like he hit a wall, and he stumbled backwards onto his ass, hands braced out to somewhat cushion his fall.  He was half dazed, peering up at some weird guy and girl with a metal arm.  Were they here to finish him off too, to put an end to his misery?

There he went being paranoid again.

 

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