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Post by Ilana Logan on May 5, 2012 14:44:08 GMT -5
Marina Kseniya Sebastian
Rina watched and listened as the details unfolded before her and dread lent its smothering weight to the hate that churned in her gut. It wasn't enough that she had to be confronted by the living breathing Morse so soon after everything he'd done to her and her friends, but the Universe had to demand she walk back on that damned ship of his and fly with the bastard, too?
There is no way we're sleeping without watch shifts. No damned freakin' way. And even then, it'll be a crapshoot.
Because Longstreet's influence or not, debt of freedom from Parkhill or not, Morse could not be trusted and Rina didn't believe the man was capable of keeping any promise that inconvenienced him. Why should he? He'd gotten away with murder for years. How many people had he turned over to the Feds for money and a pat on the back? Tens? Hundreds? With a record like that, what reason would Morse have to change? Absolutely none. Not when two bounties in the form of herself and Marcus were walking right into his hands. Once they were in the Black, she and Marcus would become instant hostages to his greed and she knew from bitter experience how powerful that greed could be.
And now, she was down a hand and less able to defend herself ...
The roller-coaster of fortune had carried her through such highs and lows in the past half hour she was practically ill from it. Anger burned through the dread and the hate inside, and frustration threatened to express itself in tears. Crying now would be like blood in the water while surrounded by sharks. Rina looked down at her boots until the feeling passed. Damned if she'd give the bastards the trophy of her tears and that thought steadied her. When she was certain she'd managed to keep her eyes dry, she looked up again. No matter what happened now, she'd given her word to Marcus: she was all-in and she had his back.
And so she watched, and kept it.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:44:35 GMT -5
Dannie Shutter
Dash’s shakes were getting steady as a pose to getting worse, which was a good sign. He listened to the exchange of words between Longstreet and Morse and the drama started to cool down slightly, the guns however were still aimed at him and the rest of the group. He thought of speaking up, but the eyes of these two men seemed more painful than daggers, he decided to keep his lips shut for the time being. The blond haired man made his way towards the gun rack, Dash was stood 4 ft away from it and he slowly put his hands down while gradually moving away to give the man more room than needed. Dash wasn’t sure but the presence of this Morse unnerved him, something he couldn’t put his finger on.
He slowly made his way towards the fire place where Rina was sat. His arms had now drifted far apart, still signalling that he had no motivation to cause a scene, a way that could only be described as pliable in nature. His spurs started to echo within the awkward silence, which was generated by the uncomfortable converse between Longstreet and the striking blond haired man.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:49:16 GMT -5
Morse found his way over to the gun cabinet when he heard the ‘stow away’ mention them being stuck in quarters the whole time. He hadn’t given almost any thought to it, but given how well they’d listened last time that didn’t seem to matter much. Either way the circumstances were incredibly different from last time. Here he didn’t have terrorists, baby killers, and alliance cronies that were scheduled to be on board. This time he just found a bunch of what he deemed incompetent ‘rent-a-thugs’. But this was things that could all be figured out later. He made it to gun cabinet and saw the other one that they had there. ”Back it up ‘Tucker’” He said to the man. ‘Tucker’ being a reference to ‘Tucker Troopers’ which was a generic term that many of the officers during the war had used to describe the basic infantrymen under their command who had nothing distinguishing about them to be remembered. It wasn’t a particularly offensive term, but it fit in for it.
As Longstreet mentioned the funeral of Heather, his response came jetting up. ”Ex wife.” Morse shot out quickly. He didn’t want hardly any association to the fact they had been together at all. She had been particularly one of the worst sort of people had been given life in the system. Her selfish tendencies practically ruined their daughters child hood, had it not been for the death of his former father in law, it very well may have been worse. He didn’t have a tone to it though that was very one way or the other about her death though. He found what he was looking for inside of the drawer easily enough, it didn’t seem to have moved from when he put them in their originally. ”And Jackie…” He said trailing off looking at the cabinet then back at Longstreet. ”Just lost her mom, taken it about how anyone would I guess.” He knew that Jackie wasn’t doing very well, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. However he had seen her bouncing back from it in a decent way, but time would tell if that was the case.
After responding he pulled from the drawer his weapons. He hadn’t seen them in a very long time at it was quite a thing to be holding them again. Two ‘Le Snef’ revolvers. They were brown and were very similar to the pistols that he already used. But there were serious differences. They color made it look dirty and rusty, but that was a deception, it was really part of the alloy and coloring, which made it extremely light. Recoil was almost non existent, which was one of the things Morse liked the most about it. The larger barrel beneath the top one was the portion he liked the most, carrying an extra heavy slug in each, where his current only had one in each. He began to do as he had originally done frequently with them. He slipped them onto his fingers, and clicked out the cylinders. He snapped them back in and began to twirl them on his fingers. He spun them quickly in front of his body, watching them as he did, then caught them. He aimed them right at the ‘stow away’ and the other at the one armed Rina. His smile didn’t fade as he kept the weapons on them for a second. He then made his decision and pulled the triggers on both.
Click click
The hammers on both weapons pulled back and came down, and giving a snapping sound, but nothing happened. He looked at Longstreet. ”These were loaded when I gave them to you.” Of course he knew the entire time they hadn’t been loaded. He could feel the weight, and he’d seen the empty cylinders, intentionally keeping them back so the others couldn’t see.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:49:39 GMT -5
Longstreet
Longstreet didn’t move, but he may well have nodded in his mind. He had no experience in what Morse was describing. He’d never had any children, he’d never even been married. As for the reaction he could only speculate, but he knew enough about how his family dealing had been for the last few years to not be surprised at his reaction. There was a reason why they hadn’t been together for the many years. However in terms of how Jackie would be doing with, that he couldn’t understand. His own parents had lived out their years, and died. So losing a parent at such a young age was not something he really knew anything about. He knew many fathers and mothers who’d died during the war, but he didn’t see the effect on the on the children. But that wasn’t for him to judge or imagine.
He watched Morse open up the drawer. ”I haven’t moved them.” He said as Morse evidently found them rather easy, without needing to hear it. He saw him do a ritual he’d seen numerous times before. Spinning the cylinder, and then spinning the weapons themselves. The point about the revolvers was that they weren’t very numerous themselves. They had been a bit over priced at the time of their manufacture, too expensive for most people. And their perks weren’t necessarily good enough for purchase by the military, it was preference sort of thing. He watched as Morse brought them to bear on the people before him. And then after a moment he clicked the triggers and the weapons didn’t do anything more.
When Morse said that they were loaded originally, Longstreet saw what he was doing. ”No they weren’t.” He said calmly. He’d known they weren’t loaded, none of the weapons were. ”Your just trying steal bullets from me again.” Longstreet observed. This wasn’t the first time that he did this to get something from him, and it probably wasn’t going to be the last.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 5, 2012 14:50:43 GMT -5
Marcus focused elsewhere as Morse began to talk about his family. He wasn't interesting in Morse's personal life. That he had one was amazing to the young man. But he couldn't just live for his job... that's what men like Burts did. Nothing but the job and the kill.
And was Marcus any different? He was staring at the wall opposite the gun racks when Morse drew out the pistols. They looked like crap, to be sure. But there was something about them. Was that an extra barrel? On a revolver? The gun looked ridiculous, worse then the lazer guns he'd seen vids of fancy core 'nobles' showing off and- Why is he pointing one at me?
-Click-
Marcus's eyes went wide, pupils narrowed, and he was thankful he had kept up his habit of using the lavatory before reentry. Morse's comment slide off him, though. This was just another taunt. Another jab. The man was clearly enjoying the focus he was getting from the people assembled in the room.
Marcus exhaled, before turning to Longstreet. "If there's nothing else, sir, I'd like to get my crew settled in." Any much more time and someone, likely Rina, was bound to say something and Ray would shoot someone and Longstreet would probably let it sort itself out.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:51:20 GMT -5
Dannie Shutter
Dash’s heart sank a little when Morse span around and clicked both hammers. Kōng de xīzhuāng His voice echoed in his head, this time it was an expression he had not used for a while. Not since his time in the trenches, hornets flying past his head every time he went up top, constantly supplying ammo across field. It made him recollect the many men that lost their lives as he was made to witness. It was sheer luck that the long chains of bullets didn’t go off around his neck, most of the time he was concerned with his back pack full of the stuff. He wore that insult like a badge.
His heart came to full speed again and he noticed the crude looking pistols which were to his liking, he was never really a fan of fancy looking weapons. As long as it played the part looks didn’t bother him. His trusty 'Walker' rifle for instance is not the best looking thing, but the distances it can shoot would surprise a man.
He then picked up on what Marcus had said to the stern looking man in the large seat. His thoughts took him to the bottle of wine again and his feelings lifted slightly, if only for a brief moment.
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Post by Ilana Logan on May 5, 2012 14:51:50 GMT -5
Marina Kseniya Sebastian
Rina had seen Morse pull the guns and crack the cylinders, spin them and snap them back, even twirl the weapons to check their balance and weight, showing off with them a little. She didn't take her eyes off him for a minute and when he leveled one of the pair at her, she firmed her chin and stared at him full on. If Morse was going to shoot her where she stood, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her quail from it.
Click!
Sometimes a test gave as much away about the tester as the tested. She narrowed her gaze and marked his smirk and filed it away for reference.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:52:09 GMT -5
Morse brought the weapons back in, his smile still stuck where it was. It was primarily with the fondness for the concept of holding his old pistols once more. He’d been running around with the LeMat modified for quite some time, just because he wanted to try them out and Longstreet appeared to have an area he’d needed filled in his cabinet. In his massive array there were quite a number of weapons, rather specific to their original owner. And these were very specific to Morse himself. Still tied perfectly on each of the outside barrels respectively were his tags from the war. They both had specific information on both sides. One was his own, the one on the right, and the other was the one that was printed for the Logan. He already wore a necklace, so he didn’t have room for them there. Instead he’d opted to tie them to his weapons, knowing he wasn’t likely to lose those. The feel was nice, and easy to be used to, since they were nearly identical to the things he’d been using the last few years.
”Who’s trying?” Morse responded to Longstreets accusation. He was already opening up the drawer beside the weapon, where he knew Longstreet kept the ammunition specific to his weapon. He was already fitting in new rounds to the cylinder. He had every intention of ‘filling up’ while he could. He’d done this before, and he knew Longstreet would be wise to it. But he also knew that he wasn’t likely to be stopped over it. One by one he slid the rounds into the weapon. But the slugs beneath he’d have to fill with his own, but they were the same as the ones his former weapons used. He finished with one and set it on the right edge of the desk Longstreet sat at.
He looked over the people once more, particularly the ‘Tucker’. It really was a strange sort of thing they had going there. None of them fit together very well. They were of rather varying age, and one of them seemed to be about twenty. Of course he’d seen runners with guns that were younger then that, but it was still a strange kind of jumble. He could tell they all wanted to get out of there. He wondered if the ship outside was theirs. But that wasn’t likely, he’d seen it back during the war, and its captain was a long haired trashy looking person. If he was who he was thinking of he was a really mean son of a bitch too, and these guys could hardly seem to take them. He thought that guy was dead though. ”We got some things to go over.” Morse said looking at Longstreet still putting the bullets in. He did have some things he needed to run by with Longstreet, business sort of things that didn’t concern these people. He looked over at the jumble bunch before him. ”I’ll bring the Logan here for when its time to head out.”He was talking mainly to Longstreet, but the information itself concerned the others more.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:52:39 GMT -5
Longstreet
Longstreets eyes rolled when Morse started going through the drawer and filling up his weapons. He already knew that was going to happen, because he always seemed to take something when he was there. He didn’t steal it, he always made sure Longstreet knew it was happening. And he never really took anything valuable, and more often then not it wasn’t anything from his office. But of course since Morse was taking back the weapons, he’d have to take the bullets too. It was like Morse had made an investment. Longstreet holds the empty gun for a while, and when Morse wants it back, he gets it, and a full set of bullets with it. But Morse’s opportunistic nature was rather similar to his own, and this was no different then how things had been during the war. There might as well not have been a Colonel between them, because Morse was always dealing with Longstreet directly.
”Yes we do.” Longstreet responded to Morse saying that they had ‘things to go over’. There were always things for the two of them to go over. Business was a serious thing, and Longstreet did a lot of planning and working with Morse, so that would be a while. ”If you bring the ship in, have it on the section two, don’t take up the whole pad.” Even though he knew Morse wasn’t prone to landing in the center, he wanted to remind everyone that was landing there to do that, because otherwise he couldn’t receive all the incoming things as scheduled.
He looked back over to the people in front of him. Longstreet could recognize that they wanted to leave. It seemed to be the second time they’d requested such. But it was getting late, and Longstreet himself would be leaving before long. He looked them over. They seemed like they were very tired, no doubt from traveling for what was probably almost two weeks. And the accommodations on that ship they’d come in on were likely dismal. He reached into his coat, and removed his billfold. ”Here.” He said, flipping several notes. ”There are some nicer hotels in the city. This should cover you for tonight.” He said offering forward some money. It was just under 20 Alliance credits, in much smaller denominations then what he’d given them as payment. He considered it an extra tag on for the scrapping rights to the ship. ”If you are still interested tomorrow, give us a call, Carl will give you the information when you leave.” He finished, leaning back after setting the money down.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 5, 2012 14:52:53 GMT -5
Marcus didn't interfere with Morse and Longstreet's banter. He did note that the weapons didn't seem to be loaded. Perhaps Morse's in particular. Longstreet likely had weapons under the desk for situations that required them. Then again, this was a 'base' of operations. He likely had enough men around on any given day that he could go the cabinet and reload.
Marcus felt a bit better working for someone with their act as together as Longstreet.
The young man stood as Longstreet pulled out the last bunch of credits, receiving it with a nod. "Thank you, sir. We appreciate it, and dealing with Burts' ship for us." He nodded to the rest of the group to head out, intent on leaving last to ensure Ray didn't find an excuse to shoot one of his crew in the back.
He still wasn't convinced the man wouldn't pull a shot off. Even 'just too graze' them.
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Post by Ilana Logan on May 5, 2012 14:53:22 GMT -5
Marina Kseniya Sebastian
Rina gave Marcus a nod and moved through the door first, then turned once past the threshold to do a head count and to watch her friends' backs. Not that she'd be able to stop Morse or Ray from shooting them if they so desired. The best she could hope for in that case would be to either take the bullet for them--not the best case scenario--or shove them out of the way, which would be preferable all around.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:53:47 GMT -5
Dannie Shutter
Dash nodded in accordance and he was also surprised by Longstreet’s contribution to their accommodation, it was as if Longstreet was paying them with an unspoken apology for the rude welcoming made by the two startled men. He looked to the three men that stayed behind and he tipped his head forward pulling on his worn black hat with his thumb and forefinger “Have a good evening gentlemen”. He turned around and placed his twitching hands in his large pockets again as he followed Rina out of the large deep oak doors. The smell of the hall ways entered Dash’s nostrils again and he thought to himself, Still smells too clean. Dash’s limp was starting to subside and he noted to himself that the first thing he must do is to kick his addiction and sort his damn leg out.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 5, 2012 14:54:43 GMT -5
Marcus waited for the rest of his crew to file out of the room before following them out to the door, he turn on his heel and grabbed the handle for the door. He wished he had a hat to tip in this kind of situation. It would be on his list of things to buy with his share of the bounty.
"Have a nice day." He addressed toward all in the room before shutting the door. He held onto the knob before letting it go and stepping away from the door.
He motioned with both hands for the group to get moving, back the way they came. He was ready to get his gear and info 'Carl' would have; then leave.
He pondered what sort of middle grade place they could get.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:55:03 GMT -5
Carl
Carl had been sitting in a chair watching the entry to the building when he heard people coming down the stairs. The clumping of footsteps was not something he would ever miss. He turned and stood up, looking and ready. He still had the shotgun in his hand, but it wasn’t up, or ready to fire. Just watched as they came by. He’d already deactivated the weapons scanner. Nothing had been moved, or touched. He made sure of that. Some of the others that worked there might have tried to take their pick of what was on the table, but over the small little worms and rats that worked for Longstreet, Carl was the one who made sure that everything was kept right. And if anyone had tried to touch the weapons that had been on the table, he may very well have put them to the ground, and tossed them outside. He didn’t care that he was guarding these weapons, he just would have his job and he would do it. He stood aside so that they might recollect their defensive items.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 5, 2012 14:55:18 GMT -5
Marcus followed his group down the stares and once they were past the scanner motioned for everyone to get their stuff. "No sense lagging about." He addressed them, quickly, before looking to the man who'd led them in, Carl. Probably.
"Carl, right?" He asked, waiting for the nod. "The Colonel asked us to give him a call tomorrow. Said you fill us in on the info...."
It was pretty basic, but Marcus wasn't use to being sent around to get bits of info from fellow employees. He was usually given all that from the start and thrown off to do whatever needed doing.
He did like that he wasn't being chucked out of a shuttle this time. That had just been odd.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 5, 2012 14:55:40 GMT -5
Carl
Carl watched as the group came down the stairs and proceeded to get their things. The one he had been told to meet when they first land, Marcus O’Terra, stepped up to ask him a question. He presumed that this man was the leader of this group since he’d seen them get instructions from him earlier. Whether that was how they worked or not that, it didn’t really matter. He was the one who’d asked the question, he’d get his answer. ”Yeah”Carl answered. He was rather opposite of the one who was speaking. Carl was large and fairly tall, imposing sort of person, where as the person who was speaking was short and not much to him. But Carl was familiar with appearances being deceiving.
When asked about information, it wasn’t something he hadn’t heard before. He knew quickly what it was that was being requested of him. He reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. At the same time he’d brought out a pen. He quickly wrote down the address of a cortex signal receiver. He put the pen away and held it out. ”Send a wave here.” He said. He had no idea really what they were told, other then if they were asking him for information, it must have meant they were told to call at some point.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 5, 2012 14:55:58 GMT -5
Marcus nodded and took the slip, motioning to the rest of the group. He headed out towards the street, there was likely some public transit they could catch toward the more populated areas. After that it would just be a matter of picking a place to set their things down and take stock.
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