Pangs of pain shot through her right leg as she tried to put any sort of pressure on it, and her lungs complained of their abuse as she shuffled along the hard, laminate floors of the station.
This was Cassandra Atkov, currently trudging towards a lit booth within the Chinese Martian Space Station.
Her red hair was tied into long ponytail with some scraps; her clothes were rugged, and abused. She was horrifically thin; one might think she’d be blown away by the wind, if space had wind.
No more than a week before these occurrences, there had been an… Incident, in the Kuiper belt. Some pirates had attacked a defenseless mining ship, expecting to find some treasures inside. This mining ship, of course, had held Cassandra Atkov, who was acting as the engineer at the time. She had been struck in the leg by a flying rock during the commotion, and had been the only one able to make it to the escape pods. She was discovered by some Kikasec security men, who, for an obvious price, hauled her back to the mining station orbiting Pluto. From there, she was hauled by a medical ship and given the barest minimum treatment on her way to where she was now, with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Moving back to the present; the booth she shuffled towards bore a cheaply made sign above it, stating, “Jafar’s Great Job List!” and under it, “Looking for rookie mercs!”
As she approached the booth, a fat man with a cheap suit turned to her, boisterously stating, “Ey, lady, lookin’ to be a merc, huh? Opportunity of a lifetime!”
Giving the man a somewhat bewildered look, Cassandra spoke, her voice rough from lack of use; “...Yeah, I think I’ve, uh, exhausted other opportunities.”
The man jumped right back into action, “Well you’ve made the right choice, see! Trust me, merc work will be some of the best work you’ve ever done!”
“Hmph, that your motto or something?” She muttered, before speaking to the man again, “I’d hope so.”
With an exaggerated grin, the man started again, “Wonderful! Great choice, lady. I just need you to sign some paperwork, and we can get you started with a job involving a solar farm on Mercury. Don’t worry, we’ll provide transport!”
“Alright.” Cassandra stated, nodding.
As the man moved further into his booth to grab the paperwork, he muttered inaudibly, “That is, if you don’t drop dead in the drop pod. Jesus.”
Name: Cassandra Atkov
Gender: Female
Affiliation: None
Appearance: Slim build, caucasian, with red hair tied into a long ponytail, along with hazel eyes. Suffers some medical conditions due to experiences mining in the Kuiper Belt. She’s a fair height, at just under six feet tall. Her body has a number of scars, and she tends to carry around a pocket knife with a design of an eagle on it’s handle, being one of her few, if not her only possession.
Previous Experiences & Expertise: Has a fair bit of engineering knowledge regarding ships, but is otherwise inexperienced.
Current Status: Homeless, starved & desperate.
Other: Even though it may have only been her Great-Great-Great-Grandfather that was Russian, Cassandra can still hold her alcohol and holds a preference for Vodka. Her heritage also tends to show when she’s drunk.
This was Cassandra Atkov, currently trudging towards a lit booth within the Chinese Martian Space Station.
Her red hair was tied into long ponytail with some scraps; her clothes were rugged, and abused. She was horrifically thin; one might think she’d be blown away by the wind, if space had wind.
No more than a week before these occurrences, there had been an… Incident, in the Kuiper belt. Some pirates had attacked a defenseless mining ship, expecting to find some treasures inside. This mining ship, of course, had held Cassandra Atkov, who was acting as the engineer at the time. She had been struck in the leg by a flying rock during the commotion, and had been the only one able to make it to the escape pods. She was discovered by some Kikasec security men, who, for an obvious price, hauled her back to the mining station orbiting Pluto. From there, she was hauled by a medical ship and given the barest minimum treatment on her way to where she was now, with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Moving back to the present; the booth she shuffled towards bore a cheaply made sign above it, stating, “Jafar’s Great Job List!” and under it, “Looking for rookie mercs!”
As she approached the booth, a fat man with a cheap suit turned to her, boisterously stating, “Ey, lady, lookin’ to be a merc, huh? Opportunity of a lifetime!”
Giving the man a somewhat bewildered look, Cassandra spoke, her voice rough from lack of use; “...Yeah, I think I’ve, uh, exhausted other opportunities.”
The man jumped right back into action, “Well you’ve made the right choice, see! Trust me, merc work will be some of the best work you’ve ever done!”
“Hmph, that your motto or something?” She muttered, before speaking to the man again, “I’d hope so.”
With an exaggerated grin, the man started again, “Wonderful! Great choice, lady. I just need you to sign some paperwork, and we can get you started with a job involving a solar farm on Mercury. Don’t worry, we’ll provide transport!”
“Alright.” Cassandra stated, nodding.
As the man moved further into his booth to grab the paperwork, he muttered inaudibly, “That is, if you don’t drop dead in the drop pod. Jesus.”
Name: Cassandra Atkov
Gender: Female
Affiliation: None
Appearance: Slim build, caucasian, with red hair tied into a long ponytail, along with hazel eyes. Suffers some medical conditions due to experiences mining in the Kuiper Belt. She’s a fair height, at just under six feet tall. Her body has a number of scars, and she tends to carry around a pocket knife with a design of an eagle on it’s handle, being one of her few, if not her only possession.
Previous Experiences & Expertise: Has a fair bit of engineering knowledge regarding ships, but is otherwise inexperienced.
Current Status: Homeless, starved & desperate.
Other: Even though it may have only been her Great-Great-Great-Grandfather that was Russian, Cassandra can still hold her alcohol and holds a preference for Vodka. Her heritage also tends to show when she’s drunk.