TheMaster99

Frontier – [ Full || Sci-Fi || Firefly-Inspired ]

@Twhirtley I've been super busy with school + soccer (football) season. The rp has been waiting on an Angel/Amir collab IIRC, so I guess it's my fault that there hasn't been any progress. Hopefully I'll be able to find time to get that collab done, but at the very worst I should be far more available in a few weeks once the season is over and I actually have some free time again. I definitely don't want this rp to die though, we (@McHaggis, @Kirah and I) have let way too many die off as it is, plus I really like this one!

Frontier – [ Full || Sci-Fi || Firefly-Inspired ]

That... is a very high quality closeup.

Wolf Manor

*hits the fire alarm and smashes the IN CASE OF EMERGENCY glass*

This is not a drill! I repeat, this is NOT a drill!

We have a confirmed IC post sighting! Man you're stations everyone!

Mahz's Dev Journal

<Snipped quote by TheMaster99>

Yasssss.

Almost entirely because I can't remember those values.

@Rilla

Well enjoy using your color names then, since they work to begin with

Mahz's Dev Journal

Oh, you mean like this?

[color=peru]Oh,[/color] [color=wheat]you[/color] [color=orange]mean[/color] [color=blue]like[/color] [color=violet]this?[/color]

Frontier – [ Full || Sci-Fi || Firefly-Inspired ]

Big collab is up. There might be a mistake or two in there, but meh, it's late at night (technically morning) and lazy. Tyler ended up doing a lot of the heavy lifting, I was pretty braindead and couldn't think of too much detail

Frontier – [ Full || Sci-Fi || Firefly-Inspired ]

Victoria/Angel

Featuring: Trish

Starting to eat her food, Angel was impressed. It wasn’t a 5 star meal or anything, but certainly better than she’d expected. She ate as the conversation went along, feeling no need to get involved. Noticing Trish’s injured hand, concern flashed on her face briefly.

”Are you okay, Trish?” she asked.

Trish looked over at Angel, after finishing the bite she was on, smiling lightly, “I’ll be fine, I don’t think it cut too deep, and I scrubbed out what I could.”

Trish struggled to believe that anyone could have the contacts to truly delete the criminal records of her and the captain. Some things simply can’t be forgotten, only hidden for a time. Watching as the captain pushed his food out, she reached out and grabbed the plate. This was a habit from being on the run for so long, you take what you can get when you get it. Setting the plate down between her and Angel, she took half of what was left and put it on her own.

It seemed the captain’s previous orders of searching the ship had returned yet again. Trish assumed she’d actually have to be involved this time. And since she doubted a ship like this was hauling fuel or explosives, she decided that she’d rather try and find out the lesser known areas of the ship. And hey, if they found rats, that would actually be a bonus. Her father let her keep pet rats, until they used them to test out explosives, or deliver them. At least they had enough food to not have to eat them.

Since Angel had accompanied her on the escape, Trish decided to extend the offer of companionship once more. At least there was a small bit of trust therein, so looking over at the hooded woman, “Want to search the ship with me? Someone else can find the cargo.”

Angel nodded as she piled the extra food onto her plate, mildly surprised by the gesture. ”Sure, I don’t think there’s much else that needs doing at the moment that we can help with.” She had been nearly finished eating already, but now her plate was half full again. Trying not to eat like a pig while simultaneously not really caring isn’t the easiest of things. Shrugging, she continued eating.

Trish finished up her food, waiting as Angel did the same. She then stood, gathering up the empty plates, making her way over to the really, really unclean sink. In disgust, she dropped them in, making a note to come back and scrub this whole kitchen down later, cursing in her father’s language. She couldn’t stand slobs, it got people killed, accidentally. Turning back to Angel, she smiled, and nodded toward the door, before walking to and through it.

More talking to herself than Angel, “We should probably go nose to tail.” With that, she found herself leading the way toward the cockpit, noting that the pilot had not asked for an “off-limits” rule like the pesky mechanic. The ship wasn’t huge, and she was in need of some serious love and care. There were cobwebs, piles of dirt and grime, dented plates and rusted hinges everywhere. Trish knew that this would be taking up a lot of her spare time until she had the money and parts to get back into building explosives.

Pulling open the hatch to the cockpit, she just realized she’d been walking in silence despite her companion. Stepping aside as the door creaked open, she looked at Angel, “She’s a little beat up, but I think she’ll do just fine. Sort of like how the rest of us are. Right?”

Angel nodded. ”Sounds about right. A druggie, a… clean freak, I suspect?” she guessed, noticing the disgust she’d displayed upon seeing the state of the sink, and the way she looked at every imperfection. “Anyways, yeah, we could all use some work, I guess. Only fitting that we get an equally beat up ship to match,” she added with a small smile.

Entering the cockpit, it was obviously empty – the pilot was off doing who-knows-what, and no one else had much reason to be lounging around the cockpit at the moment. The room wasn’t as dirty as the hall had been, although it could still probably use some work (like everything else). It’s not a huge surprise; navigating through the universe is a precise business, if you find yourself off course by a fraction of a degree you can find yourself creating a crater in a planet, or melting inside a star. So pilots are typically a bit more perfectionist than other crewmembers might be, and the state of the cockpit was evidence of that.

Trish stepped in behind Angel, getting her first look at the cockpit, before stating what had kept her from searching earlier. “I don’t really know what we’re looking for exactly. Do you?”

”Nope. Not a clue,” Angel sighed. ”I was busy sleeping. Y’know, lifting you is pretty tiring,” she laughed.

Trish chuckled as well, moving away from the console toward the back of the cockpit, to a few of the smaller storage areas. She opened the first, finding replacement knobs and switches for the dash, and closed it back, though remembering that it was there. They could be useful one day. She continued opening and closing hatches, not finding much of interest; work gloves which she pocketed, a magazine of naked women that she left, and a pair of goggles. The rest was stuff that seemed somewhat essential to the cockpit. Goggles in hand, she turned to Angel, “Find any rats or stowaways? Or just junk like me?”

Angel shook her head. ”Just junk,” she agreed. ”Shall we continue on our tour? Hopefully some of the other rooms are more interesting. I wonder what the commons are like.” Opening the other door out of the cockpit, she stepped aside to let Trish take the lead again.

Trish could only assume the commons area was back behind the mess, where most were. It was pretty standard to separate dorms and the mess and common area either side by side or top and bottom. They hadn’t passed any hatches built into the walls on the way up, and didn’t now on the second path back. “It would be mighty embarrassing if some of these panels are smugglers’ holds. But we’ll leave those to the captain, that’s more up his alley.”

They continued past the opposite side of the mess from where they’d exited and came upon the hatch to the commons area. Trish noticed this one didn’t have an electric pad like the cockpit did, even though the pilot had left that opened. It had a manual turn handle. Trish strained against it to no avail, trying one more time before kicking the damn thing. She tried to peer in but the window was glazed over from grime.

”Here, let me, before you break something,” Angel offered. She didn’t even bother to attempt doing it by hand – if Trish couldn’t, she had no doubts that she would fail as well. Instead, she forced the handle to turn mentally. It struggled against her, but eventually surrendered to her, swinging open all at once. Screw the old-fashioned way.

“Hopefully that was easier than lifting my ass, can’t have you taking a nap all the time,” she said smirking at Angel. Pulling the door open, she stepped inside. Like most of the rest of the ship, it was a mess, but it had a few couches, a bar, and some sort of green felt table that Trish hadn’t seen before. There was also a bookshelf with various books and electronics on it, and a few cabinets and such strewn at random around the room. Trish moved herself over to the odd looking table, finding it had holes with baskets underneath in the sides and corners. In these baskets were multicolored balls. She plucked one out, feeling its weight, “What is this table?” more to herself than Angel.

Putting the ball down on the felt surface, she moved around the room slowly, finding several things her previous ships didn’t have and that she’d not seen, including some colorful box labeled Candyland. Realizing how much they had to go through, “So how does your Psyche thing work? I only know the rumors and stuff, but you’re the first I’ve met, that admitted it at least.”

”Aww, why not?” she mock pouted at the thought of not getting to nap as she plopped herself down onto a couch. ”Well, as you all have probably guessed – and I’ve admitted to, really – I have plenty of drugs in my system. Well, Psyche is no different from any other drug; load up a needle, inject it, and you’re good for a few years. Most people don’t ever use more than that, because it sure isn’t cheap, and there are… uh, consequences. But... “ she trailed off, sighing. ”So obviously my abilities are more… extreme, than most people’s are. But, as I said, there are consequences.” she finished grimly. ”So how about you? Where’d you learn your trade?” Angel asked, hardly hiding the change of subject.

Trish was rifling through a cabinet full of spare gun parts and clips, though no actual guns were inside. She was never really fond of guns, nor really good at using them, listening to Angel speak. So this drug not only got the user high, but also gave powers. Who would, or even could, make such a thing? “My… father taught me how to make explosives. He was part of the Defective Alliance before his injuries. That’s when he passed his trade onto me. Every day and night that’s what he taught me, up until the day he died. Been on my own most of the time since then.” Her eyes glazed over a bit as she remembered all the things she’d left out. This was a fairly pleasant time, and there was no need to be dredging up that shit right now, or ever really.

Rummaging through a cabinet filled with clothes, mostly men’s that were much larger than her, she had considered asking Angel about where she’d come from, and why she was on her own at such a seemingly young age, but knew that to be a silly endeavor. She wouldn’t talk about her own origins, and had been on her own at a younger time. Grabbing what appeared to be an old fashioned boombox from the shelves, and sat on the couch next to her, pulling out her multi-tool. But eventually curiosity got the best of her, “So what is your trade? Lifting women and knocking out guards?”

”Umm…” Angel could feel herself beginning to blushing, looking down. ”Just whatever I can, I guess. Protect some smugglers here, collect a payment there… plenty of jobs that I’m able to make short work of.” She felt bad for lying to Trish, since she seemed nice and was probably the only person on this crew close to being a friend. Still, there was no chance that she would reveal such things. Not yet, at least.

Trish caught sight of the blush, but didn’t push the matter. They all had secrets and they all had shame. She started fiddling with the boombox. Pulling out the battery pack, which had been rigged to work in this ancient device, she tested it to her tool. It still had plenty of juice, so she replaced it, pressing buttons but finding no sound coming out. In a matter of seconds she had the casing off and was inspecting the interior wiring. When she finally found the issue inside, simply a few disconnects, she got them reconnected and coated, when her mouth just started spewing once more, as it had done with the captain earlier. “Does it bother you when you kill people? I saw how you reacted to my plan in the bar before our escape.”

”Innocent lives, children, and so on… I do my best to keep them out of risk. That’s why I was against your plan. Even if it didn’t kill anyone immediately, it almost certainly wouldn’t have ended well for everyone. Corrupt guards and the like, however; I don’t have any particular qualms with them. I dunno, I’ve never thought about it." Realizing that the blushing had stopped, she looked back at Trish, glad that she hadn’t push the subject. ”Why do you ask? Got something on your mind?" she asked as she watched her work on the boombox with mild interest.

Trish continued her inspection, just ensuring nothing else was wrong. She couldn’t necessarily argue with Angel’s logic, though one could say that guards are innocent as well. But, “I wish I felt bad for it. I really find myself wanting to feel bad. It just doesn’t happen. I do my job right, people die. I do it wrong, more people, or myself, die.” She put the casing back on, pressed a few buttons, twisted a knob, and with one final press, music began blaring out of the box, watching the wheels turn on the cassette tape inside. She didn’t know the song, but it was Free Bird. She turned down the volume a bit, satisfied that she’d managed something useful with her hands.

“It will all catch up to me one day I suppose. Until then, I’ll just keep running until it does, or I finally throw in the towel.“ She looked over at Angel now, a bit sheepish, having shared that, voluntarily, unlike the previous conversation with the captain.

Angel nodded. ”You can’t really win, can you? With what you do. I guess, as they say, the only winning move is not to play. Or at least the lesser of two evils, whenever possible.” She resisted the urge to bob her head to the song, which she was surprised that she recognized, although her foot began tapping lightly in spite of herself.

“Not playing means death for me, or Deadlock, which is pretty much the same thing. Besides, I don’t really know anything else, this has been my life since shortly after I could walk. Just jumping from one level of hell to another, wondering when one will finally claim me.” Trish leaned back into the cushion of the couch, trying to relax a bit after this, smiling as she watched Angels body move lightly, feeling the tapping of her feet. “You know it? I don’t, but it sounds like what my neighbor would play from time to time.”

”Yeah, it’s old. Like, Earth old. I don’t know where I’ve heard it, but I do recognize it. Free Bird, by Lynyrd Skynyrd.” A moment later, she added, ”It’s a weird name, but a good song.”
Trish chuckled at a thought, “Maybe that’s what we should name our new ship then.” Trish had always wondered what Earth was like, she’d only heard stories of the old Earth days, but she didn’t even know what it was like now. Probably crap like the rest of the verse. Running through her mental checklist, since they were, in fact, on an assignment, all that was left were the personal dorms, which really, were to each their own, and cargo. Cargo could definitely wait. Satisfied that they were where they belonged, Trish stood up and made her way over to another cabinet that she hadn’t yet checked. “So what do you do when not working?” She didn’t want to be rude like the captain’s comment about Angel’s drug use, but she hoped to get an answer different from it.

”Well, probably pretty close to what you imagine, honestly. I don’t usually socialize very often.” Until now. Angel stretched her arms absentmindedly, looking out the small window into the deep vastness of space. All this space, in a giant universe, and here she was doing absolutely nothing with her life. Wasting it, really. She sighed, looking around the room at the various cabinets and shelves.

Trish couldn’t help but smile, it was nice talking to someone, outside of business. It had been quite a while since she had anything remotely this nice. This cabinet was filled with a bunch of seemingly useless figurines, creatures she didn’t recognize nor thought were real, as well as a bunch of spare sheets and pillows. Seeing no other cabinets, she moved over to Angel, slipping in just behind her, looking over her shoulder, “Hopefully you have something good here,” one of her hands resting on the woman’s shoulder, gently, to provide just that much more leverage to see.

The contact surprised Angel, but she didn’t move away. Looking up at Trish standing behind her. ”What do you mean?” she asked, curiously.

Trish peered into the back corner of the cabinet, almost certain at what she thought she saw, moving even closer, squinting for a better look, “Just something interesting. don’t know what half this junk is, and the other half is sundries and such.” She was almost certain of what she saw now. “I think that’s a grenade there in the corner.” Scooting her body closely, passing Angel, she reached in and grabbed it. It was far too heavy to be a grenade, but she held it up to the light, unaware of her extreme proximity to Angel. It was just a carving of one. She sighed, disappointed. More junk. “False alarm.”

Angel stood up, standing next to Trish to have a look herself. ”Why would someone want a carving of a grenade? It seems a bit odd, especially to just keep stashed in a cabinet,” she thought aloud. ”I wonder what other stupid things they have hidden around the ship. You’d think there would be some reason to have some of this stuff, but I can’t think of any reason.” She looked through the cabinet quickly, but the grenade carving was definitely the most random thing to be found inside. Everything else, although junk, had a fairly obvious purpose. The grenade, however, stumped her.

If Angel didn’t know, Trish sure as space shingles didn’t know. But she kind of liked the little thing. “I think I’ll keep it. No decorations in my room anyways.” She was a bit excited at the thought, and turned, finding her face uncomfortably close to Angel’s, which immediately elicited a deep blush from Trish. Stuttering but getting no words out, she quickly ducked past the woman, making way for the other hatch. And of course the bloody thing wouldn’t open. Embarrassment abound, Trish turned, knuckles white as she gripped the “grenade,” she wanted to say something, to apologize or something. But no words came out. And since her attempt to flee had failed, and trying for the other door would just look foolish, she just moved to the couch and plopped down. She tried to look as if she were focusing on the statue, as the cassette switched to Dream On, yet another song Trish didn’t know.

Angel had to show a good amount of restraint to prevent herself from reacting to Trish’s actions in any way. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she apologized as she sat back down on the couch as well, making sure to not be too close. ”Oh, right…” she mumbled as she remembered that the other door was jammed like the first one, forcing it loose as she did with the first one. Unfortunately, she had no idea what this new song was, but it seemed decent enough.

Trish looked in Angel’s direction, face still flush, unable to meet her eyes, just as she hadn’t with the captain earlier. “You didn.. I di… It’s fine.” Trish wasn’t even sure why she’d acted like that, it wasn’t like her at all. Now it seemed she’d mucked up the pleasantness of the atmosphere, “Maybe we should check the unclaimed rooms, just in case. I can drop off a few of these things I’ve found.” She really wished she could meet Angel’s eyes as she spoke to her, but simply couldn’t. Like most bombers, she was a coward it seemed.

Angel nodded, which she noticed she’d been doing quite a bit throughout their conversation. She was a bit disappointed that the conversation had ended so abruptly, but it had to eventually. ”Right, the rooms are the last place we haven’t checked. Well, besides the cargo hold, but that can wait.” She stood up first, leading the way this time, so that Trish wouldn’t have to walk past her, clearly embarrassed by the sudden turn of events. Her thoughtfulness was rather surprising to her, but she stuck with it, waiting at the door for Trish to follow.

Trish nodded, watching as Angel led the way, rising to join her. She consciously kept her distance, letting Angel lead her down the corridor. Deciding to stop at her room first, not sure who belonged to which other rooms. She hummed the song that she remembered from her youth, that inspired her pin, 8-6-7-5-3-0-9, hearing the hiss of the door. Slipping inside, she deposited her new belongings on her bed before making her way back out.

“Uh… do you know who’s where?”

”No idea,” Angel replied. ”This one’s mine,” she pointed at the room in question, coincidentally opposite Trish’s, ”But I dunno where the others are, if any of them have even picked one yet.”

“The pin on mine had been reset when I claimed it, so I guess any with no pin are still open, and should be searched.” She moved to the one directly next to hers, hit the console and it opened immediately. Unlike her room, this one wasn’t spartan, but rather ornately decorated. Silks and fancy blankets and sheets and chairs and pillows were everywhere. If anyone else had found this room, they’d immediately recognize it as a courtesan’s room, but Trish did not. She was glad she didn’t pick this one, that would be a lot of crap to move out. With the work she did, she didn’t need a bunch of fire hazards. With a single ”Huh?" There was a single, darkwood cabinet that had a bunch of… things Trish didn’t really recognize. Perhaps climbing gear or something, straps and clips and such. She continued moving through the room, finding many unknown items, none of which interested her. Stepping out into the corridor, ”Clear.”

Angel nodded, opening the next one. It seemed pretty generic, like her own room. Probably just another lesser crew member’s sleeping quarters. The next one appeared to be similar at first glance, but a closer examination revealed that it wasn’t nearly as bland as the previous one, despite likely having started that way. Slightly nicer looking sheets and marginally fluffier looking pillows indicated that the room’s former resident held some degree of status on the ship, as did the few pieces of artwork that adorned the walls (although to her very untrained eye they seemed quite unremarkable). Whoever ended up with this room would probably be fairly comfortable, but nobody was hiding there currently. Besides the conversations, the search had overall been rather dull. Perhaps the cargo hold held more interesting secrets, though unless someone else took it upon themselves to check through there, it probably wouldn’t get done for now.

Moving to the final room, Trish found the entry pad not lit up and sighed. Just how much crap was broken on this ship? Pulling out her multi-tool yet again, she was going to unscrew the plate only to find the magnetic screws stripped along the threading, forever turning in place but never coming free. Annoyed she hit it with the tool, and the door just slid open. Sighing, she never understood why hitting stuff worked so often. Peering in, this room barely even looked to be a quarters. Sure there was a bed, but for the most part it was empty, as if no one had been in there for years. Maybe no one had gotten the door open, but Trish did a quick search and ducked out before the dust sent her into fits.

”All good in there as well."

She really didn’t want to lug around crates and other likely useless things, so she stood there awkwardly in the corridor with Angel. She had no suggestions for what was next, but she could feel the wear of the day starting to hit her. Not everyone had managed to sneak in a nap. “I think I’m going to get some shuteye, unless you can think of anywhere else to search?”

She partially wanted Angel to have an idea for elsewhere, just so they could continue talking, but at the same time just wanted to sleep and put the majority of this day behind her. Turning toward her own room, she glanced over her shoulder at Angel, meeting her eyes this time, “Goodnight Angel.” Humming as she punched her pin in, slipping inside, a sigh escaping through her teeth, leaning against her now closed door. A grin had snuck on her face, for reasons she didn’t realize. Perhaps she would like this crew as she had her last one. Or at least one member among it. She made her way into bed, hoping her nightmares didn’t come tonight, for she just wanted to rest, and not disturb the unlucky person that ended up as her neighbor.

”Night Trish,” Angel replied, smiling. Honestly she wasn’t too tired yet and wouldn’t mind hanging out a bit longer, but if Trish was tired then there was nothing for it. She began to open her mouth to say something, but Trish entered her room before she could get a word out, closing the door behind her. But it was probably for the best that she had; Angel might have regretted it. In fact, she was sure she would regret it, she tried to persuade herself. Yet, for some reason, she wasn’t quite convinced. Sighing, she turned and opened her own door, walking inside.

Call me Victoria.

Wolf Manor

Currently, no. Possibly in a few years, but not yet.

Honestly, if there were relevant companies that are local that would be willing to accept interns, I'd definitely be doing it. But suburban central NY isn't exactly a hot spot for computer-oriented careers, and even if it was they wouldn't have much interest in a teenage intern

If I wanted an internship in farming, perhaps that would be doable. Or perhaps I could shadow a drug dealer. Half the town either is one or is friends with one anyways...

Wolf Manor

THE UNIVERSITY NEEDS THE EXPERIENCE BUT THE EXPERIENCE PROBABLY NEEDS THE STUFF I'LL LEARN AT UNI THIS IS HOPELESS

@MyCatGinger

Ah, good ol' circular dependencies, something all programmers encounter on occasion!








Fuck circular dependencies.

Mahz's Dev Journal

@Blizz It counts VMs, as the name suggests.