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Author Topic: Under the Palisade {Painterlee!}  (Read 393 times)

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Atarakushia

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Under the Palisade {Painterlee!}
« on: January 02, 2014, 03:28:28 pm »
Kingdom was drunk. Or as drunk as he could ever be.

In his large docking bay, perhaps big enough for a ten person cruiser, he sat under the blaring white light in a stripped desk chair, a small white-painted wooden table beside him, with a large palisade overhead to keep most of the blinding light away. The bay was empty. His cruiser was somewhere else, misplaced, in the temporary hands of a mysterious other whose name he couldn't quite remember.

Bored, he had found nothing better to do than take 500 credits to the nearest liquor store and buy as many spirits as was possible, and attempt to drink them all in a day. The door leading into the station was locked tight. The one leading into the outside? Completely unlocked. It would open to anyone who decided to pass through. He wasn't quite aware of it. He had told himself he would lock it. He never had done.

Numerous empty glasses of whisky, gin and tonic, rum, tequila, vodka and other spirits decorated the table like ornaments of a Christmas tree. A few teetered on the edge, overlooking their fallen brethren who had been pushed aside to make room for the newest empty bottle. Kingdom would defend himself in these situations; he wasn't a drunk or alcoholic. That was impossible. A cyborg couldn't get drunk, especially when one's body was able to turn liquor into a source of energy-boosting goodness.

He didn't usually feel tired. He didn't need to sleep, but right now it was all he wanted to do. If he so desired he could shut down, or hibernate like a computer. But he couldn't achieve the lazy, between two worlds feeling of being on the edge of wakefulness. Not quite delirious, and very much simulating his own version of drunkenness, he was content to sit and lounge and never leave until the ethanol stores in his neck were fit to burst and he could hear the creaking and feel the stuffy swolleness of the pressure that need releasing in any other way than the usual method of fire-breathing. That method, he knew, would have blown his face off.

The only thing he wasn't sure of was why he was wearing a baggy shirt and his dressing gown or tracksuit bottoms, and he had no idea where the slippers on his feet had come from. He must have bought them, or stolen them, or borrowed them from a dumpster, despite being capable of buying his own. It didn't matter, he wasn't up for worrying.

The alcohol was making a low hissing as it dissolved to leave ethanol, which then traveled up into his neck. He was nearly used to feeling it travel against gravity. In copious amounts it was the strangest of feelings. Listening to the near-silent whirring of his own mechanised body, he was content. The hum of his core, bright and blue, was just the right hertz to send him into a half-lidded gaze, and the tiny vibration didn't help. He thought, maybe, that he could take a nap. Fall asleep for a bit. He didn't have to worry about a headache from alcohol, but the lights hurt his eyes, no less.
« Last Edit: January 02, 2014, 03:37:01 pm by Atarakushia »

Painterlee

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Re: Under the Palisade {Painterlee!}
« Reply #1 on: January 04, 2014, 10:06:33 am »
*You do not have permission to land, pull back immediately!*  "I don't give a crap, you have a bay open and-"   *We run on a strict protocol, M'am, you may not dock until you are cleared*     "Cancer and strict don't exactly fall into the same category unless you're trying to make one last joke before I die!"   *We can't just have people charging into docking bays, pull back now and wait for clearance"  "I don't have to time wait for fucking clearance! You have a bay open and I'm not dying out here!"    *That bay may not be clear, you may not enter at the risk of other people!*   "I have a goon on board worth more than any pathetic life in that hanger, I'm landing now!" "M'am yo-*

Belle cut the call from Cancers boarding overseers. There wasn't time to wait for their approval. The Black Scarab was screaming at her, flashing up red on every screen, she could hardly see the gigantic Space Station ahead of her. Every alarm was blaring, telling her something different. ~ Systems Critical, Systems Critical, Oxygen at 5 percent, Engine failure, Emergency Thrusters Engaged, Systems Critical ~ "Just stay together for 2 more minutes you hulking piece of shit!" Like the ship could hear her, she'd spent too much time alone with this hulk of tin. Everything shook and rattled violently, Belle barely had control of the steering anymore. It was down to a stab in the dark as to whether she'd even make it into the bay. She didn't care how bad she crashed it as long as she got there alive, along with her cargo, moaning at the back of the cockpit as if he had a clue as to what was going on. To him, the world was shaking and noisy anyway. No one would want to be in his position now that it was shaking and noisy.

Anyone who happened to be looking out onto the vast void would see a ship, leaving a trail of black smoke, and the occasional burst of fire as the oxygen leaked from the ship, as it came in fast towards to Station. Unless you weren't paying attention, which most weren't, you'd have a fairly good idea of what was going on. They couldn't send police cruisers in, in case the other ship exploded. And there weren't many law-enforcement agents in Cancer. Who were doing their jobs, anyway. Closing in on the hanger bay door, the sensors would detect her, and open. Someone had left the bay unlocked, whomever it belonged to was about to get quite the wake-up call. ~Oxygen at 3 percent, collision in 3, 2, 1...~ 

The Hanger Doors opened for her like the gates of heaven, and the rumbling, smoking, uncontrollable mass dived into the opening like it was the only place in the Universe it wanted to be. Pressing the breaks for all they were worth, The Black Scarab collided with the secondary doors, separating the docking station from the rest of the bay. The force threw Belle over the control panel, and her cargo into the back of her seat. "Fuck...". For a moment, she stayed there, face again the panel, flashing red and blaring at her as the power dyed the noises faded out, broken and twisted like some hellish choir until the noise stopped altogether. Only the groaning of her prize and her heavy panting breath filled the air. In the bay, she heard the systems voice call out. Artificial gravity, online. Oxygen levels stable. Upon realizing the voice commands were down, she set herself to work.

Outside, the smoke hid most of the ship from view, the vents slowly displacing the carbon mess with fresh air. There was a hiss. The Hatch opened and there were a few seconds of silence From it, fell a body. A large, bald man covered in tattoo's with a scabby nose, a black eye and a broken arm thumped to the ground, gravity welcomed him. His pupils looked furious, like he had no idea which way was up, and which way was down. He groaned. Maybe someone would recognize his face. Because he was worth 60 million credits. Soon after, Belle followed suit, jumping her wrecked ship. Now she could think about what she was going to do about the cops. Facing The Scarab, an old friends, there was really only one thing she could say.

"Shit."
« Last Edit: January 04, 2014, 01:58:06 pm by Painterlee »

 

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