@Ollumhammersong A military therapist who all but begged to come along with the crew. She is trying to write a thesis on how the Marauders continue to be successful when so many others don't, and is trying to see if the psychological makeup of the non-military crewmembers somehow makes them more pliable when facing the unknown.
I'm considering that maybe she didn't have clearance from the military and just lied about it because she's so damn curious. Ironically that would be a criminal act, because it'd make her a stowaway...
Hi there! A team therapist would be very interesting! Raymond keeps a lot of things locked up, so having someone trying to figure him out would make him pretty distant hahaha
I can also just imagine all of us awkwardly sitting in a line outside of @Mistress Dizzy's office, saying nothing with our arms crossed and just trying to avoid eye contact XD
Oh gurd! XD I can see Talley hiding in his room and not speak to @Mistress Dizzy at all. Considering that he hasn't had a very friendly childhood or while growing up.
I can see Rae trying to use reverse phsycology so @Mistress Dizzy tells her everything or flat out answering with lies that are completely noticeable as lies
@Akayaofthemoon It's hard to trick a psychologist. I've tried. >> They know all the tricks and will sit there and let you try, and just wait until you're done to say that 'okay what you're really feeling is...'
I can also just imagine all of us awkwardly sitting in a line outside of @Mistress Dizzy's office, saying nothing with our arms crossed and just trying to avoid eye contact XD
@Mistress Dizzy The interview with Kaite might get a little weird. (Never had a psych evaluation (or heard of a psychiatrist) and isn't The Monroe's typical criminal crewman) :P
On that note, how long would Dizzy's character have been with the Monroe?
I can also just imagine all of us awkwardly sitting in a line outside of @Mistress Dizzy's office, saying nothing with our arms crossed and just trying to avoid eye contact XD
8-Ball will be standing there twitching furiously as he looks for the answer on how to stop his coke addiction.
Sooo... I wanted to work out who my character was and why she was a Marauder... I kinda got carried away with vizualising. I hope you enjoy the results.
Ashley's boots fastened to the surface of Cloud-9 with a thunk audible only through the sleek shell of her sleek, stylised space suit. She took a moment to appraise the space station she had landed upon alongside the endless starscape of space from which she was separated by little more than a bulletproof pane of glass. For a moment all was peaceful, then the pilot's drawling Texan accent sounded starkly across her com-link and Ashley was snapped violently from her reverie.
"Alllrighty then boss... You're on your own from here on out." came his voice to which she replied:
"Understood Falcon." Her own voice soft, carrying with it the tonalities and mild gruffness of the Irish working class. "Be ready to extract back here in 20 or via the observation deck if things go tits-up."
"Roger that." Came the reply, efficient and trustworthy in it's delivery.
Any idiot could simply blow a hole in the surface of a space station and charge in guns blazing. To enter without so much as changing the air pressure as Ashley was trying to do took specialist equipment, extensive experience and patience. Ashley had truly taken advantage of the lack of gravity in space when packing for this job and her modular rucksack, if it could be called that, was disproportionately large compared to her form; in earth gravity it would have weighed an easy 80 kilos. She slipped it off her back and fastened it to the surface of Cloud-9 on using magnetic clamps. Next came a little construction work.
Setting a circular device beside her rucksack Ashley set to work with a welding iron, securing the 3 foot wide and 6 inch thick disc in place on the surface of Cloud-9. Once unfurled the tube of plastic sheeting within would form the temporary air lock Ashley needed, allowing her to infiltrate the space station upon which she stood without compromising the air pressure and, thereby without giving away her presence. Ashley broke into a sweat as the clock kept ticking. Fifteen minutes remaining. She unfurled the tube of sheeting from the device and connected a hose from her rucksack to the base of the plastic airlock she had created. This would later flood the airlock with air and equalise the pressure of it with that within the space station.
Clambering into her makeshift airlock with only the equipment she would need for the next leg of her robbery, Ashley pulled the lid closed behind her and let it pressurise, biting her tongue as her ears popped from the quick change. Thirteen minutes remaining, no time to grumble about the discomfort caused by accelerated repressurisation. Even with the considerable reduction of equipment between landing and climbing into her air-lock, space was tight. Ashley was grateful she had insisted on pushing so much of the last robberies take towards equipment for this job as her miniature circular saw set to work, carving a hole into the surface of Cloud-9 just big enough for her to clamber through into the space station beyond. Eleven minutes remaining.
Cloud-9, originally known as Space Station 9 for it's position orbiting Pluto, the 9th planet (or planetoid) orbiting the Earth's sun, was now the solar system's premier tourist satellite. Home of the solar system's classiest casinos, hotels, art exhibitions and of course, the system's largest diamond, Cloud-9 was the perfect front for it's criminal run conglomerate to run it's operations from. Yakuza, Mafia, Triads; If they did crime and they did it organised, odds are they were based here. Of course, Ashley cared little about that beyond the fact that her victims could afford the loss they were about to take, she was here for the diamond.
"Staying focussed in there Ashley?" Came that all-too-familiar Texan accent down the com-link.
"Of course I am Dilla... What did I say about names over unsecured coms Falcon? Stop being a wanker. I'm doing my job. You focus on yours. Get your professional hat on." Ashley barked back down the line, glancing around to catch her bearings.
As planned Ashley had found herself in a junction within Cloud-9's extensive labyrinth of long forgotten air vents and maintenance shafts. The station's artificial gravity had taken effect now and so, somewhat disorientating, Ashley now stood upon the opposite side of the same sheet of metal she had moments ago been clinging to in the vacuum of outer space. The shaft led forwards, backwards and upwards. Ignoring the ladder Ashley took a grenade launcheresque device and fired it directly upwards, revelling in the quiet whirring of climbing ropes unfurling until the magnetic hook met it's destination with a muted thunk. Ashley hooked herself to the mechanical winch and began her assent at speed. Eight minutes remaining.
With a jolt Ashley stopped and climbed into a side vent, colours becoming more vivid by the moment and her pulse accelerating as adrenalin kicked in. Only moments to go now. She crept down the tight vent in miniscule motions to avoid making even the slightest sound if it could be avoided. Each second dragged, seeming to Ashley to become an eternity until at last she could see through a grille into the room below, her target in sight. She fastened a cable above the vent and took a moment to notify her getaway driver of the situation.
"Falcon... The egg is in the nest... Magpie is ready to go." She hissed into the microphone before drawing her handgun and firing three near silent flechette rounds into the screws keeping the vent in place on one side. No delicacy here, four minutes remaining, alarms would be triggered but by the time a response team had arrived she would be halfway back down the vents again and Falcon would be in place to retrieve her. The rest of the bullets in her gun were tranquilisers in case of emergency. At least that was the plan. Cold dread set it's icy tentacles into Ashley's heart as she rappelled through the now open grille only to see bewildered faces looking up at her masked figure. Fuck... The vault was not supposed to be open to the public today.
Suddenly everything was a frenzy of motion. Screams erupted from a crowd of pampered looking patrons wearing everything from pompadours to pretty polka dot dresses and they fled in every direction one could possibly think of to run, someone got tangled in her rappel line and with a crunch Ashley heard the sickening sound of her winch breaking, the vents were no longer an option. Ashley slapped a plastic explosive to the glass of the diamond's display tank and crouched as the glass fragmented into a million tiny shards, sparing no time in reaching within to grab the hefty diamond within. She stuffed it into her utility belt and screamed down her microphone. "PLAN B FALCON! WE'RE USING PLAN B!"
If Falcon replied Ashley certainly didn't hear it, she was already running out through the vault door and into the arts gallery beyond. To her great fortune the guards hadn't seemed to identify the threat as of yet but that quickly changed as she bolted past them and someone shouted. "THAT'S HER! GET THAT ***T!"
A torrential downpour of fully automatic gunfire sounded as Ashley bolted around a corner, sensing the proximity of the bullets by the force they exerted on the air around her and goading her to run even faster. Plan B was sloppy, the definition of an emergency exit. Whilst planning her raid Ashley had checked the visitor checklist for the VIP Observation deck on this floor. It was deserted, no bookings for the entire day, which was in fact a large part of why they had picked today. Ashley would get to the VIP Observation deck and then Falcon would come crashing in through the window, the bulkhead would seal protecting those inside Cloud-9 and Ashley would be protected from the vacuum of space by her spacesuit as she clambered aboard Falcon and hopefully, to safety. Of course, as Ashley rounded the corner Ashley's heart sank. The observation deck was full and, judging by the guards uniforms, of Galactic Committee members no less. Ashley screeched to a halt, hands held high as a dozen firearms drew on her in the observation deck.
"FREEZE BY COMMAND OF THE GALACTIC COMMITTEE!" Ordered a red-faced guard down the barrel of his gun.
Ashley nodded to the guard and, quietly, with calm moderation, Ashley spoke down her microphone.
"Abort extraction Falcon. Civilians on deck... this is Ashley Hunter, out."
@Mistress Dizzy What a great idea. Looking forward to having you on board! It'll be fun to read about everyone's dark and dirty little secrets! heheh
On that note, how long would Dizzy's character have been with the Monroe?
I'd imagine Dizzy's character would be the newest member to get a fresh take on everyone's psychological profile??
I can also just imagine all of us awkwardly sitting in a line outside of @Mistress Dizzy's office, saying nothing with our arms crossed and just trying to avoid eye contact XD
And then somebody bolts out of her office wailing with tears, screaming "DONT PRETEND LIKE YOU KNOW WHAT IVE BEEN THROUGH! YOU DONT KNOW MEEEEEEEE!!!" running down the hall leaving everyone wide eyed as @Mistress Dizzy says: "Next."
