Avatar of POOHEAD189

Status

Recent Statuses

5 hrs ago
Current peepeepoopoo
4 likes
1 day ago
You guys like DBZ?
2 likes
10 days ago
😉
2 likes
10 days ago
Please, my abs are free for everyone to enjoy, you merely need ask
2 likes
10 days ago
Over the next few weeks, I am going to attempt to bring in an influx of new players and writers. Here's hoping Feb has a big turnout!
9 likes

Bio






About Me








Name: Ben
Username: The one and only. Dare I say?
Age: 30
Ethnicity: Mixed
Sex: Male
Religion: Christian (Nondenominational)
Languages: English, Japanese (Semi-fluent & learning), I also know some Scots Gaelic, Quenyan (Elvish), and Miccosukee (My tribal tongue)
Relationship Status: Single (Though generally unavailable unless I find I really enjoy someone).






Current Projects/Freelance work

  • I am a voice talent and script writer for Faerun History
  • I have a much smaller personal Youtube channel that I use to make videos on various subjects. Only been making videos for 2 years, but it's growing!
  • I'm the host of a Science Fiction & Fantasy Podcast where I interview authors of the genre.




Interests (Includes but is not limited to)

  • Writing/Reading (Love writing and I own too many books)
  • Video Games (Been a gamer for close to 23 years now)
  • Working Out/Martial Arts (Wing Chun/Oyama Karate mostly. Some historical swordplay as well.)
  • History (Military History is my specialty)
  • Zoology
  • Art (Mostly Illustrations. Used to be good. Am picking it back up)
  • Voice Acting/Singing
  • Tabletop Gaming (Started late in the game. Been at it for 3 years. I was the kid who bought the monster manuals and D&D books just for the lore for the longest time. I've played 3.5e, 5e, Star Wars D20, Edge of the Empire, PF, and PF2.)
  • Weaponry of all kinds
  • Anime (mostly action/shonen. DBZ & YYH being my favorites)
  • Movies (Action/War/Drama films being my go-to)
  • Music (Rock of all kinds, as well as historical folk songs, sea shanties, pub songs, a bit of classical music, etc)
  • Guitar (am learning to play, but being left handed makes it challenging)
  • There's more but if you care enough you can PM me :P




Roleplay F.A.Q.

  • Fantasy, Sci Fi, and Historical are my genres. Fantasy being my favorite and Sci Fi/Historical being close seconds.
  • Advanced / Nation / 1x1 / Casual (only in certain circumstances)
  • I generally write at the 'Advanced Level' meaning 4+ Paragraphs with good grammar.
  • I am usually busy with many projects and RPs, but if you wish to do a 1x1 with me, you'll need to present your case. Those I already do it with have my trust as a Roleplayer.
  • I love many, many fictional universes so me trying to list them all is an effort in futility!






Me

Most Recent Posts

Alcander descended the stairs, looking for all the world like an unkempt reprobate, his vibes somewhere between aragorn and a particularly wary homeless man. He eyed the colorful explosions around him with the same apathetic disinterest he gave most things that did not pertain to an active investigation. The detective had heard most of Jocasta's spiel without betraying any sort of thought, merely walking up behind the two and eyeing the body as he incorporated the new information into his mind.

After a few moments of thought, he placed a hand on his chin and stepped past Eleanor and Jocasta, to eye the cadaver. He looked at the women, then lifted the corpse's left arm up.

"Careful with him, I've still got some work on this guy!"

"He won't mind." Al replied, looking for any marks. He sniffed the arm, and save for the detergent solution and the antiseptic that was standard operating procedure, he felt he detected a hint of asphalt. It was to be expected. He placed the arm down and rummaged his fingers through the dead man's hair, pulling out a small strand of hair and examining it thoughtfully.

He smelled the copse of strands, smelling a of hint of garlic or decay from it.

"Find anything, Lassie?" Jocasta asked, adding a tut tut tut click of her tongue like she was beckoning a dog, slapping her hip.

"Phosphine in his hair," Alcander said, before turning to Eleanor.

"Would Hercule Poirot like to tell us where that comes from?"

"I prefer detective Callahan, but I'm surprised you've read any Agatha Christie." The investigator remarked, a hint of a smile on his face. "I just thought you watched Bridgerton all day. Gotta catch up so you can catch part 2, right?" He replied.

"Pardon me, we don't wall watch Lost, Surface-level seinen anime and reruns of police procedurals," She quipped, crossing her arms across her chest and smirking.

"You got me pegged," Alcander shot back, but Eleanor raised an eyebrow to draw their attentions to the matter at hand. Alcander cleared his throat, holding up the strand of hair. "This means your ink guy was in the industrial sector before he found himself dead in that alleyway. Either that or he intimately met someone who had. Lucky for us he didn't shower."

"He was kind of offensive in that regard," Jocasta affirmed, pinching her nose for emphasis.

She was a meticulous one, he had to give her credit.

Davian had nearly fallen for the false lead of the palanquin, and in fact had passed her position on the street before realizing he had been temporarily duped, drawing his 'requisitioned' horse up short. The beast was a well-trained one, and he felt a sinking in his stomach when he realized he had not caught the name of the man he had taken it from. Guilt aside, he had retraced his steps and had left the beast with a contingent of Defenders, the local authorities accepting his explanation with the flash of his seal. Davian had decided to make this spot of the city his web, and had found a comfortable seat atop a tanner, reviewing all of the inns and bath houses on the rolled up map he had procured. Luckily he had a few contacts in a handful of local establishments in the craftsmen's quarter, mostly to be safe. He had no dreamed the thief would be a lovely woman in a handsome dress, but he was nothing if not thorough in his hunts.

Across the street, the local butchery called The Sharpened Knife was congested with locals and foreigners alike, the smell of cooked meat from the apartment windows to the south causing his stomach to complain. He found he looked away from the map from time to time at the men and women walking out with paper-wrapped flanks and prime cuts, causing his mouth to water. He had only reviewed half of the inns once he spotted his quarry, causing him to do a double-take when he realized the woman called Sakura walked out with a sizeable portion.

From there, the thief-taker followed, albeit as far off as he could manage, but she did not seem to be in a hurry.

At first, he did not take her because he wanted to find the right moment, but afterwards, he found he was impressed. She walked with careful purpose, and a confidence that seemed suited to royalty. Even the women from his home country had an arrogance that outstripped their high station, but this Sakura walked with perfect poise and with no false bravado. After two stops, he realized she was throwing him off her trail, and it would have worked had he not spotted her by chance. Silently, he applauded her. He found he felt it was a shame to toss her behind bars, but business was business, and even a woman as stately and attractive as her was not above the law. Or his pay.

Checking the map, he realized she was walking in a relatively short area of the city, and more like as not she would tire or grow weary of this game soon. He broke off from his pursuit, and decided to check in with one of his contacts.



Inesa plucked a plump piece of bread from a used dish, curling her lip and tossing the item out the open window and into the alleyway. The scullery maid shoved the dish under, scrubbing it with lye and dunking it into the clean water. She wore a typical chin-high collar and ankle-high hems, ensconced in a worn apron spattered with suds and stains. A fair woman with an imperious chin, she had always believed her life was worth more than working a job so her worthless husband could paint and deal with the merchants that frequented the craftsmen's quarters, but burn her it would break his heart if she quite. She dunked another dish in the water, and had she not known any better, she swore she had heard her name whispered.

"I suppose you want to keep working like this rather than being paid for something real?"

She nearly shoved the bucket over in fright, spinning around to see that louche Davian standing there, somehow having made it into the back of the kitchens. "Do not sneak up on me, and where have you been? It's been a month since-"

"Have you been watching the customers?" He asked, and narrowed his eyes. "Do not lie to me."

"O-Of course, I have!" She stammered, speaking as loud as she dared. "Why?"

"There is a woman I am looking for. I will tell you her description, and if you tell me what I wish to know, you will be well rewarded..."



Davian had sat in the common room, a wide brimmed hat hiding his eyes and a pipe in his mouth. The smoke wafting lazily before his dark eyes. An illainer tossed a pair of dice across his table, grinning like a snake as he discovered the creator smiling on him with the roll. A borderlander cursed, and a Saldean shook his head in disappointment. Davian's eyes gathered the table in a single moment, straying very little from the shapely woman that had come through the lobby. Silent as a half-man, Davian slid out of his chair and stepped into the lobby. He glanced to the left, and caught the eye of a young boy, ruddy cheeked and laughing at the jokes of a traveling tinker who regaled a table with no doubt fake tales of Shara. The boy clapped and nearly fell out of his chair from a well-turned phrase before he saw Davian's keen eyed look, and he subtly nodded, before scampering out of the Four Coins.

Inesa walked out of the corridor, plates in her hands. Her lips mouthed 'four' and eyed the left, before stepping away to complete her tasks. Davian paid the fee to enter the bathing area, before sliding into the fourth doorway.

A minute passed as Zoya lay in the bath, silence surrounding her. There was no noise of any footsteps, and it would be hard to tell Davian's movements even if he wore the Tairen clogs. As she ran a dainty hand of water over her arm, a familiar voice spoke from behind her.

"I checked your dress. Nice knife." One did not have to look to know Davian examined the blade with a professional air. "You're good, but the game is up. In minutes, twelve Defenders will have surrounded the place. You have a choice. If you want to go in with a bit of dignity, I suggest you finish bathing, get dressed, and come with me. Otherwise, the other men might be less accommodating."
The electromagnetic systems hummed, but other than a brimming background noise, the car had become eerily silent in stark contrast to the gunfire and concussive blasts outside on the street not a half a minute before. Markus and Jocasta could hear the men breathing audibly, and the target coughed, placing a hand to his forehead. Both the mercs in disguise watched behind their visors, weapons on their laps. The white sharks had yet to notice they did not carry the standard-issue submachine gun the paramility group was known for, but they likely counted that as a blessing.

"Rough day?" Jocasta asked them. Markus could feel her sardonic smile.

"Bastards came out of nowhere," the left shark said, his grating voice carried by a modular device that was picked up on the comms of all suits they collectively wore. Markus tightened his grip on his weapon, ever so lightly. "No warning. But we hit 'em back. I got two of them, myself before the colonel told us to move forward. Guess he thought the brunt of them had come at us on the road, but splintering off our convoy just made us easier targets for the scavengers that waited."

"Well don't worry, boys. You're safe and sound now." She remarked.

"Oh, a lady? When did we start recruiting women? That's a sexy voice." The right one said. Clearly he was not entirely professional in his thoughts on that front, but Jo took it in stride considering what was about to happen.

"I sing on occasion," Jocasta confessed. "A big hit, actually."

"She's alright." Markus said with a shrug. He was interested in something else, and spoke to the one on the left. "Which two did you kill? What'd they look like?" Markus asked with a smidge of curiosity. As they spoke, the right hand shark gave a flask of water to the target, a curious gesture for men assigned to guard a political prisoner, but he was not entirely focused on them.

"Tall one in red, eye scar, and a woman with blue hair and a screeching laugh." He responded. "I was glad to shut her up."

Markus chuckled, which sounded very much like a reasonable response from a comrade. In truth, he was pleased in another fashion. The shark had taken out Lorkan and Moxie. Markus had never liked either. In fact, it put him in a good mood. He glanced at Jocasta, and to the woman's credit, she noticed the slight shifting of his head. Markus replied: "You guys got medi-gel on you?"

"Yeah, why?"

Markus raised his weapon and hit both men in the chest with two shots of concussive rounds. The sound was deafening in such close quarters, and the white sharks slumped over in their chairs, limp. The target, Gallanis' son, went wide eyed. He tried to back away from the two figures, but he was against the wall. Markus watched as he began to wail and beg, but before he could try to calm the man, Jocasta hit him across the face with the butt of her rifle. He went limp as well, just as the curvature of the planet was visible through the window behind him.

"I didn't think you were the merciful type." Jocasta said.

"I'm not, but he did me a solid." Markus replied. "Now when we get to the top, you need to find us whatever starship they were going to put this guy in. And I'll fly us to The God's Eye."

A minute later, the door opened with a small whisper. Jocasta boldly strode forward, Markus hauling the unconscious target, draped across his shoulder. The merc was lean rather than broad, but he had a sizeable portion of muscle, though he still felt a bit laden from the weight of the target atop the relatively heavy armor. Not to mention his gun and supplies. "Remind me again why you knocked him out?" Markus asked with a small grunt.

"Because I did not know if he was a good actor or not. We can't have him compromise us." She explained.

"Then you carry him." He shot back.

"Relaaaax," She said. "In two hours we'll be five hundred thousand dablunz richer."
Bloody women! Just when you thought you knew all of their tricks, they make you feel like a wool-headed fool!

Davian was more used to women fighting their own battles, not letting a contingent of men do it for them! He tried reaching for the seal of the High Lords he had on his person, but a dandy with a cudgel swung at him, calling him a 'Fade's Goat' which was an uncreative way to compare one to a trolloc. Davian paid it no heed, he was far prettier than that. As hands reached in to grab at him, he did the only thing he could. The thief-taker grabbed the sour horsewater, gulped it greedily, and then spewed it on all the faces of those men that surrounded him. A few drops even splattered on their screaming wives egging them on. The wine stung the eyes and the poor quality caused them to hack, cough, and gag. Davian nearly did as well, but he was prepared for the horsewater, and leaped atop the counter of the establishment as the other men tried collecting themselves, racing across the wooden frame above the group and leaping toward the open door. Light burst forth as he made it outside, and he swiftly looked around, squinting to accommodate his eyes.

He believed he saw the glimmer of a dress racing down a back alley, and with a swift roll off the porch, he reached under the boards and retrieved his weapons. A few of the men had come outside in pursuit, but one look at the wicked sword and mace had the ruffians think twice. Davian scowled at them. "Light forsake you for fools!"

The thief-taker sprinted toward the direction he believed she had fled, trusting in his longer legs. Feet shoving off the ground, he leaped over a fallen pair of barrels and found himself on another street. The clatter of wheels drew his attention, and he gawked when he saw the accursed woman closing the curtains of the wagon. He nearly called out, but decided it was best not to. He couldn't let his frustrations get the better of him.

At least now he knew she was guilty of something.

A peddlar drew an oxen down the street beside him and a few children danced in the street, twirling small pieces of satin fastened to sticks in some strange game. Out of another alley walked an older man with a mare, the horse clopping lazily as it was led along by its bridle. Davian finally did take out the seal, a long tablet of bronze with the symbol of Alteima and Tedosion etched onto it. He jogged over to the elderly fellow and thrust it into his face.

"Apologies sir, but I must take your horse." Davian declared.

"My horse?" He asked, incredulously. He glanced at the brown mare, the beast regarding him as if it too understood. "This is my wife's. She will kick me into the bay if I don't bring it back to her. I canno-"

"The High Lords will see to it she gets it back," Davian said, mounting the horse with such swiftness the man barely knew the beast was being spurred away before he cried out in dismay, waving his hands and chasing after Davian. The thief-taker paid him no heed, racing after the cart that had already turned the corner out of sight. When he found the 'lady Sakura,' nothing would bring him greater joy than turning her in.
I laughed. It was a robust laugh, albeit hard and grating to my ears.

"What is it, scum? You think we stowed away? A liaison to a quaint agri-world on the fringes?" I inquired in seemingly good humor, but my grin was cruel.

"This is-" Emmaline began, but I backhanded her across the face. I was not gentle. I cringe now thinking of it, but as I sit here thinking of the moment, I am certain it saved her life. The Eldar was not convinced by mere words, no matter how clever. It needed a performance, and though I like to think of myself as more... congenial than many of my contemporaries, I am still an Inquisitor. I can steel myself for brutal acts and carry them out if need be. Even to the woman I cared for, if it meant saving her life. The stike also had the added benefit of jumbling her thoughts, disrupting whatever probing the dark eldar was no doubt attempting.

"Silence," I said with all of the authority of a warlord, my words dripping with venom as I loomed over her. "You've spoken enough, foolish girl." Emmaline lowered herself with widened eyes, no doubt from shock but also for the act she intrinsically knew I was no doubt performing. After she seemed sufficiently cowed, I turned to the Eldar, who's eyes were fixed on me. I had met the eyes of a Dark Eldar before, and I was well trained in the area of quelling psykers from Master Kronus. It lent credibility to my lack of fear. Additionally, I had read Emmaline's facial expressions whenever she had utilized the power, her face contorting with concentration or ecstasy through varying minute nuances in her usage of it. I could tell the Elder was attempting to read my mind even now, but I allowed the rage of having to stoop low enough to strike Emmaline to fill my mind, as well as the anger I felt for being so close to such unholy denizens as traitors and xenos.

"Do not forget your position, alien. We only suffer your disgusting presence because of Great Tzeentch's insistence. It is the only reason I do not have these men eradicate you. You may think of us as mere apes, but on this ship, you would do well not to forget your place." My eyes flicked to the left, seeing the spacer, Heretogius, who was still beglamored begin to attend to Emmaline. With the casual grace of a commissar fulfilling their duty, I unholstered my gun, placed it to his temple, and pulled the trigger. A sudden discharge of blood and bone spewed out of the opposite side of his skull, and he fell limp to the floor.

"There," I said sardonically, and turned my pistol on the contingent of men watching with confusion. "If you find yourself bored, xenos, you may clean up the flooring while we do real business for the true Gods of this universe." With a closed mouth smirk, I held my aim for a long moment before continuing. "Now Lieutenant, shall you come with us as commanded or will you stand there until I turn your contingent into a squadron. There are plenty more followers of the dark gods to recruit."

"Very well," Naftor Sybdol said, now standing at attention. I had noticed the Eldar was still standing there, rigid and ready, but not moving toward its weapon. With a sniff of derision, it spun with the grace of a fish in water and began stalking away. I watched it leave, not letting the walls of my mind come down for a single second. The officer asked me: "But first, may I know whom I serve, my lord?"

Satisfied, I holstered my pistol once more, so used to the motion I did not even glance at the gun-sheathe. The men still watched, at attention. "You did not believe your master was the only inquisitor who had received the calling, did you, Lieutenant Sybdol? Now move to the elevator, lest I lose patience. As for the rest of you, carry on your duties. Your commanding officer shall return shortly, or you will meet the Changer of Ways far quicker than expected."

The men hustled away in formation as we turned back to the lobby that contained the ship's main lift. Mercifully no one else passed, and as Lieutenant Sybdol keyed in the codes, I gave Emmaline an apologetic glance. The baroque chamber opened up, the pneumatic lift ready to ascend. Clara followed close behind, her submachine held casually in both hands.
Markus thumbed the weapon to three round burst fire, shouldering the Daiedron-C87 and sending at least one of the first three rounds into the exposed neck of a fumbling guard. Arterial blood sprayed across the wall, dark and glistening in the light. My next burst struck his partner in the chest, but the body armor stopped it short. The last bullet cracked his helm, but it seemed to have only staggered the man. Then the indicator on the weapon blinked, acknowledging the gas-powered operation was done, and the ion power was now ignited, the chamber now filling with APR's. His next burst of bullets went straight through the staggered man's armor like nails through soft wood, ending his life, hot brass hitting the floor.

The next second went by in what felt like a half minute. The doorman, whom Jocasta had punched with the heel of her hand, was recovering a mere meter from Markus' position. His hand was reaching for his sidearm, a scowl on his face, fresh spittle on his chin. Markus dropped his weapon, fully letting go of the compact assault rifle, using the time it fell to grab his secare saber, clearing it of its sheathe in record time. Even as the blade cleared, Markus was already taking one step to the right, realigning the blade to parallel the floor. Movement was waste, he had been taught. Instead of slashing widely, giving the man time to draw and fire his weapon, Markus merely stepped and moved his blade with the slightest bit of pressure, and then stepped back, the heel of his hand against the end of the hilt as he thrust.

The thick blade penetrated the man's armor, sliding out of his back with crimson dripping from the wound. A low thrum of energy reverberated the length of the sword blade, and in one motion he withdrew the blade. The man's weakening hand pulled the trigger on his hastily drawn pistol, the 9mm firing a single shot into the wall before he collapsed. On camera it happened impressively quick, but to Markus, the information processed at a pace he found adequate enough to get the job done.

Jocasta fired two rounds into the man on the wings, closest to Markus. He had just turned to aim down his sights at the unkempt merc, only for his arm to get hit by one of the rounds. Blood splotched onto the floor, but it was the least of the guard's concerns. The same arm was removed a single moment later from a quick slice of the sword. The arm fell to the floor, still clutching the submachine gun with its nerveless fingers. Markus saw the last man hesitating, and Markus decided not to leave it to chance. Instead of finishing the man he had made into an amputee, he kicked him in the chest to send him hitting the wall, and with Markus' last breath, he left the point of his sword a mere half a foot from the last remaining man's neck.

Suddenly there was silence, save for the coughing and moaning of bleeding men. Markus did not look away from the last remaining guard, who quickly realized he was being given a chance to live. He shakily got to his knees, placing his hands behind his head. Markus nodded at his good sense, and then unceremoniously kicked him across the face. He gasped and fell to the floor, out cold.

After a collection of lingering moments, Markus tore his eyes from the fallen men, watching Jocasta step out of the cover she had shanghaied. "Not bad," he told her, the blade's shimmer ionizing the blood within seconds. He shut the saber off and sheathed it. "Shut the door," he told her. As she went to do that, Markus knelt down next to the man who's arm he had removed, patting the man down for medi-gel. When he couldn't find any, Markus shook his head, sighing. These men were not following standard security regulations. The two of them didn't have time to upend the entire place to find any packs either, and he spent a moment regarding the dying man, who even now was slipping into shock.

"Red God bless you," He breathed, walking over to retrieve his gun, switching it to single shot and ending the man's life with a bullet to the forehead.

"Now what, swordmaster?" His new partner asked, checking the doorman for anything to pawn. Markus reached into his satchel, retrieving a synthetic cleaning solution and a small, albeit thick, towel.

"I'll clean the place up. You get into his suit." He said, indicating the unconscious form of the last guard.

Jocasta began fixing her hair up, a smile on her full lips. "You just love getting me undressed," she joked.

Markus sniffed a laugh. "Maybe after we're done." He replied without looking back, placing the items down on the bench and dragging the bodies into the closet. The convoy would be there in less than an hour, likely reduced in number and bewildered.
Not sure if I'll have the time, but I support this RP and all like it.
Davin was still not quite certain he had found his true mark, but as the moments slipped by, he was growing more confident. She spoke carefully, her eyes moving past him, likely on the street. Whatever she was, she was nervous in some capacity.

A small part of him wondered if he had simply come on too strong, if he was just making her uncomfortable. Women from other nations were less aggressive than he was used to, sometimes women were even considered soft spoken! It was not a wholly odd concept, as every man and woman was different, but it was true in Ebou Dar it was the woman who tended to initiate flirtation. Perhaps this woman was just more demure than he had imagined? He doubted it, but if that was the case, he would certainly feel poorly. Particularly if she was telling the entire truth about her sister.

He gave a chuckle at the horsewater nickname, actually finding it quite amusing. Now it was time to pull his gambit. "I am Davin Baln'ashar, a thief-taker hired by the High Lords of this city to find a very successful thief. You seem like someone who could potentially be them, but I was not sure enough to wait outside and knock you out without being certain."

He took a generous sip of the subpar wine, and then rested his elbow on the table, swirling the remainder of the drink in his hand. Underneath the table, his free hand was steadied under the table, in case he needed to upend it if she pulled out a hidden weapon. "So you have two options, as I see it. Come with me quietly, and explain to me why you are innocent, or why you stole the items if you are not. No doubt for your poor sister, I imagine. Or make a scene in the middle of this quaint shop and knock this horsewater drink everywhere. The Defenders will not go far, even if you somehow evade me. So what shall it be?"
Davin smiled widely, hinting at his white teeth. He had thought she was about to leave as she had claimed, already planning on how best to follow her, but her sudden change of mind had caught him off guard. Still, he found it charming.

"Business, or lack thereof." He admitted with a sigh, a cup being placed down just before him not a moment later. He placed a half crown on the table, the attended sliding it into his hands with thanks. Davin sipped the wine, glad it was not quite as bad as horse water, but it was not worth the money, he was certain of that. "I've only been here a season, but work is not hard to find here so I've decided to stay for awhile. It reminds me of home, actually."

At further prompting, he would continue. "I come from Altara. Here in Tear the weather is the same, and the people look somewhat like my own people. I miss them. But the structure is so different, yes? The High Lords. Everyone seems to speak of them, as if they have eyes everywhere. Not so in Ebou Dar. Nobles are noble, but they do not congregate together and form groups to gossip and rule over the entirety of the land like they are Aes Sedai, scheming to dance us all on their strings."

Truthfully, David had no inclination to think he was speaking to one from such a legendary group of women as that. He shrugged his shoulders, regarding her with earnest embarrassment. "My apologies, I don't mean to prattle on with my partiality, but I thought to myself, 'surely she is not a local. Perhaps she might understand.' But ignore me, what brings you to Tear, lady...?"
Air flung outwards as the interplanetary transport slowly settled down onto the landing pad. The system's star was still in the sky, which complicated things. Markus would rather go in at night, but he reminded himself Mazda was unlike most places, particularly Uralic. The planet was relatively hot compared to earth, either tropical or subtropical temperatures year-round, save for the poles. It was a planet where tourism was huge, for the oceans and the relatively safe but beautiful wildlife. However, varying cities, particularly on the southern continent, were hubs of crime and rampant corruption.

The vehicle had landed ontop of a vast structure of brutalist design, easily twenty stories tall, but still dwarfed by the vast sky scrapers. Above them, air traffic from the city's higher tier employees and the rich buzzed and swerved. The middle class congregated on the streets below, wearing the latest fashion of flashy, colorful jackets and streamline pants, walking over pedestrian walkways as sleek cars zipped by just below. Gangers lounged under bridges or near intersections, but the two mercs had found themselves in the nicer part of the city, which was one other reason the kidnapper's would not see their tactic coming. No one expected an attack at the heart of civilization.

Markus spied the rendezvous across the busy street, a stylish white building with windows that looked like a black streak running up its side. At its base was a large paved square with a statue of the planetary governor's ancestor, standing like Washington on the Delaware. At the top of the building was a collection of sky tethers connected to make an orbital elevator that led to the orbital ten miles above their position.

"Parking deck on the left," Jocasta pointed out, and Markus nodded, having seen it too. The transport behind them lifted off, the man not even giving them a goodbye, clearly wanting to vacate the area as quickly as possible.

As they descended, Markus replied: "We'll need to keep out of the camera's eyes until we get in. Then we'll go to floor 3, lock the doors behind us, take them out and wait."

"I'll handle the cameras." She assured him with a smile. Markus grinned, giving a look that said and I'll take care of the rest.

"If we live, you have to tell me why you chose to be a merc."

"Seeing as you promised me a drink and haven't paid up yet, we'll see."
© 2007-2025
BBCode Cheatsheet