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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:09:03 GMT -5
Gan’Zu Ji District
May 13, Persephone
4:23 P.M Local Time
2:39 A.M - A.S.T
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Marcus nodded to Dare as he moved past the old man to the trunk. He flipped open the lid and a puff of dust puffed up into the air. The old man hadn't even touched this thing, except to throw things over it.
The first thing he pulled out with a duffel bag, alot like his old one, but in a greyish shade. There were several shirts, and two pairs of work pants, spare underwear, and socks. The clothes went into the bag first; packed tight.
From out of the corner, Marcus pulled a small stun gun. Similar to what some police used. An on-contact sort of weapon. He made sure it had a charge, then turned it off and shoved it in his coat pocket.
The young man next pulled out a 9mm glock, standard type. There was also a flashlight he could slide onto the bottom of the barrel. After the reavers on Greenleaf... he'd started to eye the shadows of a ship corridor with a bit more paranoia.... The flashlight got stuffed in a small pocket of the bag.
With it were four full clips, and a holster. As well as a taped closed box of ammo. He shoved the clips into side pouches on the bag. ones he could pull from if he absolutely had to. The box went into the bag with his clothes.
He took a moment to put the holster on. It hung at his hip properly, after an adjustment. Marcus slapped a clip into the gun, chambered the round, checked the safety, and holstered his gun. The other clip fell into the pocket whose twin held the stun gun.
The rest of what was inside quickly was stuffed into the bag. A basic first aid kit, some lock picks, and a vest of ballistic mesh.
There was also just short of a thousand credits in note and coin. He divided the money up between the bag, a few secret pockets in his coat, and the inside of his boot.
There were a few other effects, some old brass casings from jobs. Scrap notes about who he'd pissed off recently. He swept it all up and stuffed it it in the bag. The lid fell shut and Marcus hefted the bag.
"Thanks for holding onto this Darrel." Marcus said, buttoning up his coat. "I'm gonna find a decent place to fill my belly, any suggestions?" It was a pretext to asking him where he might find work. His last contact was probably dead or Revered; Hopefully neither.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 9:09:38 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
Darrel walked over to his side table beside his char and grabbed a bottle, which had already been opened. When he grabbed a small glass next to it and proceeded to pour himself a short, caramel colored drink. He didn’t ask any of the people there if they wanted a drink, not just because he didn’t want to share, but also because he wasn’t considered if they needed a drink or not. He was fairly good at holding his liquor, and he hadn’t had hardly any before they showed up. He sat down in the black leather chair and watched as Marcus dug through all his things that he’d been hanging onto for a very long time.
”Yeah.” he answered with a lack of concern about the fact he’d been hanging on to it. It was just in the back of his shop. It was never in his way, and most of the time he’d forgotten it was even there. So there wasn’t a lot of reason why he would be concerned about having it. Then he was asked about places to get food. ”Do I look like the kind of person that eats out a lot?” He said with a bit of a gruff tone, looking up at Marcus when he was asked. ”I’ve been sitting in this shop for years, and I couldn’t tell you what shops at the end of this street.” Darrel wasn’t lying about it, but not because he was ignorant, it was the fact that every single one of the shops on that street had changed hands three times each in the time he’d been there, so he never really bothered knowing what was around, knowing full well it was probably going to change soon anyway.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:09:59 GMT -5
Marcus let the casual response slide. He didn't care about the old man, not that much. It wasn't likely they'd ever have a reason to speak after this. Another piece of his past to collect dust in the back of his head.
At least this one wasn't a corpse.
"Do I look like the kind of person that eats out a lot?" The tone got a smirk out of Marcus. He shrugged.
"Of course not. But unless your cooking has improved by leaps and bounds since the Hardtack. Somebody's gotta be delivering food. Otherwise you'd have poisoned yourself by now."
”I’ve been sitting in this shop for years, and I couldn’t tell you what shops at the end of this street.” Marcus shook his head at this. Verse moving all around and this old man... He had a place. He had a piece. His peace.
"Well I'm in no damn rush." Asking for news or anything else would be worthless. The old man was fast on his way to clamping his trap shut. He moved the curtain aside as he moved back into the main part of the shop. "Glad to see you've found that 'niche' you were looking for."
He looked to V and Angel, "Well that's that. Let's find some grub. V's treat." He said, pointing at the lady merc. After all the crap he'd been through, and the ache of the injuries he still had; He was not picking up the first tab.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 9:10:38 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
Darrel drank everything that was in the glass fairly quickly. He wasn’t in the mood for drinking slowly. He set the glass back down where he’d found it, and he adjusted the cigar in his mouth. He couldn’t disagree with Marcus, in that he’d found what he’d been looking for. But he didn’t have the stomach for moving here and there, especially not on a ship. That’s why he’d gotten off of the Hardtack in the first place. But as that was mentioned something came into his mind.
”Well, speaking of the Hardtack, you weren’t the only one that came up when I was looking through the wanted listings.” Darrel said, reaching his fingers out over the control pad that was on the side table.
He activated the screen, but all that came up was the frozen image of the game he’d been watching earlier. He stopped a moment, as he smirked.”Now ya said ya needed a job… what exactly are you lookin’ for.” Darrel’s smirk remained on his face, as he puffed out a bit of smoke and removed the cigar with his left hand. His right hand remained over the control panel. He wanted to pick at Marcus’s mind before he showed what he had.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:10:55 GMT -5
Marcus had only mentioned the Hardtack in passing. He'd never meant for the conversation to go beyond the comment. When Darrel mentioned another person from the 'Tack', Marcus's mind raced. Who was left? That day on Whitefall he'd managed to draw iron on grown men and walk away alive, with only a few grazings.
If any of them were alive.... no. It would be someone else from the ship.
Marcus swallowed the lump as Darrel asked the question.
"Well I haven't got a ship, so cargo jobs aint an option. Hell I'm probably gonna end up shooting somebody for somebody else. Seems the way my life is going. Might just KEEP someone from getting shot." But he shrugged. "Whatever I can get, I imagine. Why."
There was that feeling of impending dread he'd gotten on the Dominion and carried to Greenleaf, lodged in his gut somewhere.
Like a bullet that never got cut out.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 9:11:25 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
Darrel kept that smirk on his face. He lifted the brown flat cap on top of his head to adjust his hair a bit. It was quick and easy, as his hair had been thin and gray for as long as he could think. But he had never really been the sort of person to stare at himself in a mirror. He wasn’t overly concerned about what he looked like at all. But he moved his hand back over the control pad next to him.
”Well if shootin’s what you do now, you might wanna’ take a look at this.” Dare said, following it up by placing the cigar back in his mouth.
He brought the control pad onto the arm of the chair, and began to move through the cortex. He flashed on through many different things. He realized that he was revealing that he did more then just sit around all day, and that he was in deeper with some things then he actually let on, but he didn’t care. He moved through several frames, and data bases as he navigated through information.
”Here it is.” He said bringing up a set of information. It had stopped on the Federal Database, and information was shown nicely formatted. It was a long scroll of information however and it was moving down too quick to read. ”When I was diggin’ through things, I found that the Feds had an open warrant out for that ship.” He said in reference to the Shellback Class-Freighter. ”But, turns out they weren’t the only ones lookin’ for it.”He said pulling the cigar from his mouth. ”And, they sure weren’t payin’ the best.” He continued to move through the cortex as he had before, images and frames moving quickly as Darrel navigated through it all. He recognized what he was looking for the moment he found it. ”Take a look at that.” He finished, setting the control pad down.
On the screen before him was a legally posted private bounty.
-Nathaniel Burts – Wanted Dead or Alive
-Age- 49
-Last Seen near the town of Yi Fui on Regina
-Wanted for kidnapping and murder of dozens of settlers in the Georgia System. Suspected agent of human trafficking.
-Warning- Travels in a Shellback Class-Freighter known as the Hardtack, with several accomplices. Should be considered heavily armed and dangerous.
REWARD
-Alive- 2000c
-Dead- 1500c
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:14:03 GMT -5
Marcus's feeling of dread came to a point as Darrel moved through the cortex. A lot of what was on the screen didn't look like the sort of casual cortex hopping and old man like Dare would bother with. It gave him pause, and a bit of credit to his guess that it wasn't just 'Luxuries' that was keeping him in business. He guessed he was going to bring up some crazy bounty one of the 'Tack's old hands. They'd all been wicked bastards.
He did not expect the old devil himself to still be struttin' around.
"I shot him." Marcus growled as he moved back into the rear of the shop, letting the divider fall behind him. "I shot him in the gorram FACE, Dare."He drew up to the desk, eyes riveted to the text on the screen. "Bastard should be dust in a buzzard's gizzard by now... He decided to look past the name, and what he read did not surprise him.
Slavery. Yeah, he was a might more than suspected of it.
Marcus's hand had been rubbing his shoulder without his thinking. The same shoulder that had an old browncoat insignia tattooed on it. The same tattoo that covered up an old branding scar.
Alive 2000C
Dead 1500C
Marcus looked Darrel in the eye. There was a boiling building up in Marcus's guts. Like some old thing in the back of his mind that should have been dead was stirring up again. "So who posted this, Darrel?" He didn't mind the feeling so much. It distracted him from the fear.
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 9:20:06 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
Darrel knew all about what had transpired between Marcus and Burts. He considered himself somewhat fortunate that he'd jumped off the sip before he would have wound up on the list of the dead. But having known enough about it, and the follow up, he could understand why Marcus would be somewhat upset that he was alive. He'd wondered if mentioning Burts was a good idea, but couldn't have been to bad.
"See, that's the thing." Darrel responded to the statement. "You killed his crew, and dropped him to the dirt. But you must a grazed him, flat missed, cus he crawled his ass back to the ship." Darrel explained following it up with a puff on the cigar. "Course you took out most of his group, so he was callin' on experience. Every couple of months or so he sends a call my way to hop back on board." He moved the cigar out of his mouth and exhaled. "But I aint gettin' back on that boat anytime soon." He said.
Darrel looked at the screen and moved the screen a bit to answer the last question. "Don't really who's put it up. Some trade outpost on Beaumonde. I can figure it out, but it'd take time." Darrel set down the control pad as there wasn't much left to do with it. He dumped some ash from the cigar down on a tray on the table. "So what are you thinkin'? You gonna try to finish the job? Track down that ghost ship and make some money?" Darrel asked. He actually had his own stake in that, but he wanted to know what the "collective mindset" was.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:20:20 GMT -5
Marcus took several breathes to steady himself and find some measure of focus. Burts was alive, it stood to reason that he knew Marcus was out there... and now that he had a warrant out himself, Burts just might notice it. That'd be the interesting thing.
"Hunting the bastard down is just smart. If my names on the cortex, he'll sniff it out. Bastard was persistent. Is still, I bet." He sighed. Thinking of plans now wouldn't do him any good. He needed to see where he stood. With V and Angel, and getting a place to stay on Persephone until he got off of the rock.
"Find out who's contracting. I might need you to act as an intermediary." If he was going to choose a middle man, best to go with the evil he knew. "Depends on how finicky they are about whom they employ." He double checked his gear to give him a chance to collect his thoughts.
"But yeah. He's been haunting the back of my head long enough. Time to put the old go-... old man in his grave."
The old god's death was a lie of a dream. An ivory coated fallacy, born of fever and fear.
The hiss in his head was back, he closed his eyes and counted to ten. He got to five before he exhaled and looked to Darrel. "Any more surprises? This past month has been a slew of old faces. Did my dad stop in to ask for money? Maybe my old CO from the army?"
It was a joke, really. He didn't expect any of them on Persephone. If his dad was still alive. We'll he probably owed too much money to live out of the rim. Gunny dropped off the grid after the war. Wherever they were....
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 9:20:51 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
”Ha!” Darrel laughed when he heard Marcus mention Burts prowess as a cortex navigator. ”You give him way too much credit.” Darrel said, the puffing on the cigar a bit. Darrel had a number of duties when he was a crewmen on the Hardtack, but one of his primary duties was not only acting as a navigator for the ship, but tracking things on the cortex. Burt’s didn’t likely find anyone of his years to replace him, but that didn’t matter. ”That bastard spends too much time with his own sick reality, he never was one to bother with the cortex.” Darrel knew quite a lot about Burts. He’d been there for the mutiny which placed Burts in command of the ship, and had spent decades of his life as a crewmen on it.
Dare stood up from the chair. ”But your gonna need to know where he is, before he gets there.” Darrel announced. ”He isn’t one to play on equal footing, course you know that. But if you don’t have a heavy advantage, he’ll finish that job he started way back then.” Darrel said, moving out of the back and back to the front of his shop. He raised his voice so he could still be heard. ”Fortunately for you, I know where he’s gonna be.” He said with a bit of a laugh. He moved forward into the front of his shop. ”Come on up here, I’ll show ya.” Darrel said as he moved about the front looking for something. It was much larger in the front then it was in the back. There were shelves and counters loaded with items. All sorts of things from electronics, to pieces of art just littered every corner of everything. There were no prices listed on anything, as Darrel was a haggler, as were most of his customers. Ironically, the front looked much more homely then the back room.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:21:13 GMT -5
Marcus smiled at Darrel's response, but he wouldn't be underestimating the man. There was the chance this was a trap. But he liked to think Darrel was above that kinda crap. You never knew though.
"I'm paranoid, Dare. Doesn't mean he's not thinking of killing me."
When Dare started talking location, Marcus nodded. That would be the brunt of it. Well, the brunt of the preparation. Execution would be a big deal, of course. Exfiltration would depend on the location...
He calmed his mind before he got caught up in it. He just nodded and mumbled a 'right' when appropriate.
Following him back into the front, he smiled to the girls; who seemed to be loitering and studying the various items on display. He nodded at V, indicating she might want to listen in on this.
"If he's not landing on this rock, which I doubt, it'll be another issue. Considering the Alliance was already on alert after the Dominion. The attack on Za-Za is going to have anyone coming into the core looking at 'random' search and scans."
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 9:21:37 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
"Doesn't mean he thinks of you ever." Darrel responded. He was having a bit of trouble keeping up with most of the things that Marcus was saying. He seemed to give himself far more credit in terms of attention he was actually worth. Darrel knew enough about him to know that there wasn't that many people in verse' that cared who he was, or even felt like going after him. When Marcus started spouting out all the places that the Hardtackwasn't likely to land at, Darrel pulled the cigar from his mouth. "Slave ship goin' to the core, ever." Darrel spat quickly. He was trying to grasp where anyone would think that a ship like this would be going to the shining center of the verse'. Especially after Darrel had already mentioned that there was a warrant for his arrest put out by the Alliance.
"No you're thinkin' to basic." Darrel said, arriving at a point at the side of his shop. On the wall there was a smart-paper map of the verse'. On it, all the planets were visible with their orbital patterns, and names listed. "So, your here." He said pointing at the planet Persephone on the map. "Now, Burts has left me an open invitation to hop back on his crew. And sends me a message about every couple of months, and I'm tired of gettin' em." He said placing the cigar back in his mouth. "But" He said out of the side of his mouth. "If I ever changed my mind, I'm supposed to meet him on Ezra, on select set a days." Darrel continued, putting his finger on the world not far from Persephone. For all the terrible things that Burts did, and as trashy as he was, he had a good mind for working on a coded pattern.
Darrel removed the cigar from his mouth again, and took a breathe of "fresh" air for a moment. "He hits up the same set of settlements out on Ezra on certain days of each month, but it moves forward two, and back two so that the people living there don't get wise to it." He explained the formula a bit, but it was a rough thing to grasp, it was hard for him to figure out when he first got a hold of it years ago. "The point is though, he'll be at a large farmstead out there in a few days." Darrel said. He kept a good track of days of the week and month so he knew what point it was in the formula. But it was the closest time he knew of that he would be anywhere.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:22:49 GMT -5
Marcus swallowed his paranoia to listen closely. Erza. Desert world, scattered settlements. "Place like that, you'd think the folks would have something to defend themselves with. Ranch-hands with guns and such. Hell even a mob-militia." He scratched his chin as he tried to process it. "Well if he drops in on them during service I could see them not getting shots off."
That wouldn't quite fit the schedule Darrel was giving him.
"So, you think get there early. Use the townsfolk to give support? They get to put down a slaver, I get to bring back his head?" He was speaking metaphorically. He'd probably find a way to wave Darrel or whomever put out the claim the try and transport the body.
A more rational thought clicked in his head. "And do you have any clue on who he's running with these days? Numbers and that?" His mouth started to dance ideas out onto the table. "Gorramit there's so many angles.... I need to find me a strategist..." He added that to the list of wants-and-can't-haves.
"Cause it's not like I can just line up a shot on the bastard and expect his crew to leave him for pick up, now can I?"
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 9:24:22 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
Darrel started to laugh at the concept of the people fighting back. He was surprised that the former cabin boy wasn’t more aware of how these things worked. ”Townsfolk to give support?” He asked in a somewhat mocking tone. ”Hell no, these people have been beatin’ down enough to know how that works.” He took the cigar out of his mouth again, and held it out this time. ”See, I remember a while back you’d find some people that would get rifles and try to fight em. But that’s bettin’ the farm against a stacked deck.” He explained with a knowledged air about him.”Besides, he aint goin’ out any where near a place where you’d find a mob. This people are like prairie dogs. They dive and hide when they see the predator coming.” He said, hoping that he’d put enough of the idea down that it wouldn’t be brought up anymore. You wouldn’t find anyone where they were going to help in this sort of fight. And if they did, they were likely to die doing it.
”As for who he’s traveling with, don’t really know.” He answered. ”But, he keeps callin’ me up because he needs good experienced people, and I’m guessing he’s also missing some of what he used to have in terms of numbers” He wasn’t sure how many people the Hardtack was carrying, but he presumed it wasn’t many. ”What I can do, is maybe give you some help in terms of the argument.” He said walking over towards the back of the shop. On top of a shelf were a few weapons, rather out of place in terms of color and what everything else was. ”No one comes ever comes in here to buy guns, so I’d rather get rid of em, to make space.” He said reaching up. He grabbed a rifle, a pistol, and a box of bullets, which he’d planned to sell with them. ”I think these might give you a bit of an advantage, except against Burts himself, he’s a demon with those Marakovs of his.” He said holding the items out.
He put the cigar back in his mouth quickly. ”Here’s what I see.” He said puffing on it. A plume of smoke shoot of his mouth, he continued. ”You run down to that farmstead, send me a wave when you get around there, and I’ll tell you where he’ll probably hit.” Darrel wasn’t very anxious to call Burts to find out where he was going to be. Namely because if something went wrong, the last thing he needed was to have Burts coming after him. But he was tired of seeing waves he’d missed, and had a large enough grudge against Burts as a person to do something to stop him.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:24:51 GMT -5
Marcus had to admit he'd been overly hopeful in gathering up a militia. Still. If he played it smart he could ambush the bastard. That was the important part. He'd have to scope out the area quickly. V would be far enough in a fight. Angel.... would probably be driving any transport they acquired once on Erza. That is, if they were in on it...
Any thoughts that Darrel might be looking to double cross him were dispelled when he brought down the rifle. The gun was impressive just to look at. It wasn't Newtech or anything, but it was well made. Better than civilian make but well below military spec. Private Security probably, maybe. It looked sturdy. That was for damn sure.
"Very. Very. Nice."Marcus smiled as he hefted the rifle. It had a strap and after he checked the gun to make sure it was in order, it was on his back, safety on. The clip held ten .308 bullets, including the chambered round.
"Right. So what's the 'stead's name? Don't want to waste time waiting once I hit ground on Erza. I guess I need your wave address too?" He thought about it for a moment. "So I'm thinking if there's high ground I work up a dust and brush cover and pick my shots after the bastard lands... wish I had a silencer for this thing... that'd just be shiny... Course he's not likely to land with his ass hanging out... I'll figure something out when I see the lay. But putting a shot in the bastard should be the opening move. 'Cut off the head and the body follows' and all that."
A smile had spread across his face. A desperate and wicked smile. "This might work."
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Post by Bishop Morse on May 6, 2012 9:25:35 GMT -5
Darrel Harlon
Darrel pulled the cigar from his mouth once more. Only this time, rather then just holding it in his fingers, he set it down on an ashtray that was on a shelf. He wasn’t going to bother haggling for a price of the weapons, even though he knew Marcus had money, namely because no one was going to buy them anyway. He moved back over across towards a wall, and reached inside of a box. Inside it had a set of dividers, and datapads. He shifted through the pads and found one in particular. He pulled it out. The device was small, but was large enough that the whole hand had to carry it. He placed his finger on it, activated it, and looked through. ”Here, you’ll want this” Darrel said.
He held it up by his head to show the people in front of him. ”This is a prospect map of Ezra” He began. The screen, which covered the entire front of the device, had a picture of a brown colored world. ”It takes a feed off the planet everyday. It’s supposed to be used for showing potential soil spots, and mineral locations, but its more useful for the fact that it shows every house and farmstead registered there.” He held it forward towards Marcus. As opposed to the other things, people did by prospect maps of planets, but not of useless worlds like Ezra.
”Now if you figure out that these townies out there wanna put up a fight, hell they’ll probably help ya. But I wouldn’t tell em about the bounty. These people will grind you into fertilizer and take the money for themselves if they can.” Darrel had a rather poor image of people on places like that. But he didn’t care really, since he didn’t have to see them hardly ever. ”I’ll figure out where he’s landin’, and you do whatever your gonna do.” As Darrel finished, two people walked in. They were the lower income people that he usually found in there. And they started to look around. He had to get back to minding the shop, and making sure no one stole anything, so he couldn’t keep giving away free things, or keep talking if there was actual money to be made.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:25:55 GMT -5
Marcus was a little surprised at how much help Darrel was giving him. Something must be egging him on to put Burts out of commission. Something more than the trifle of cleaning out his 'in' box. That wasn't for here and now, though. He took the map-pad and tapped and scrolled it a few times.
Erza was sand and rock in a lot of places. Good places for ambushes, bad places for landing zones. He'd have to see the places for real before any final word could be said. But that would have to wait until the knew what the targets might be.
"And getting there's just a matter of walking through the port." He ran through the list. He had ammo, and weapons....
"Provisions." He said after a moment. Would be smart to pack his own lunch. No sense asking the locals for food and their help. So a trip to the market and he'd be set.
"Or do you have any more words of wisdom... wait. How do we keep in contact? Just use the terminal at Erza's port?"
This was turning out to be a whole mess. Most jobs had been easy. Get the intel, go to the place, kill the bastard. Going to the place, waiting for intel, maybe getting help to kill the bastard... Better sort through the crap now. He'd been shot in the ass enough times for one life.
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Post by Ilana Logan on May 6, 2012 9:28:23 GMT -5
Angel
Angie had said nothing the entire time they had been there. A nod to Marcus about the food that was all. Sometimes it was best to remain silent, though the weapons caught her eye and she glanced at them. They were something to look at if nothing else.
So, a job? Well, she was listening but still saying nothing. Getting to wonder a bit when they might leave this place, all these people that were starting to come in where making her a little nervous.
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Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 9:28:53 GMT -5
Marcus had everything he could get from Darrel. He getting off of Persephone wouldn't be the hard part. He had credits. There was travel every hour. Double checking all his gear and dropping the map pad into his pocket.
He nodded to Darrel. "I'll call you when I hit ground." The place would have a number to reach through a public corvue. Sometimes they lagged bad. But it wouldn't hurt so much.
He made his way out the shop. His coat caught the air on the way out the door, the dusty brown fabric snapped as he made for the port.
<Exit to "Leads and Landings">
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