Life without Love, Money or Freedom - A working biography on Pygmy of XA

[Evo]

My name is entirely unimportant. I've taken an interest in so called "xeno" ideology and why exactly they do what they do. After looking around and asking for those willing to give their part and experiences, imagine my shock when the leader of the Xeno Alliance takes me up on it. This will make me quite a lot of money, I can almost smell it. If you have a weak stomach, heart or a conscience against wrongdoings I would suggest not reading any further.

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Right then, so it begins.

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Glancing around the small, converted planetary shuttle that was barely space-worthy and scrunching my nose at the harsh smell of what seems to be a mixture of chemicals and months old beer, I anxiously await the meeting I will be attending in the next few hours.

The pilot is almost shockingly overweight, I wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly dropped through the hull under his feet and fell out of the ship. Glancing at him through the mirror installed and meeting his eye contact, I ask how long it'll be until we arrive. Answering in a gravelly voice after pausing for a moment, he simply shrugs and throws out a simple "Eventually." It seems as though he can't focus on two things at once as the shuttle sways dangerously close to a pile of debris floating in space. I decide to not chance killing us both and keep my mouth shut.

Soon getting tired watching the dull scenery of trash piles, asteroids and other things floating by, I shut my eyes slowly.

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Waking up to a loud crash as the entire shuttle shakes, I jump up and dart my eyes around quickly. It appears as though we landed, I wish I kept my eyes open. I've no idea where I am currently. The pilot gradually picks himself up with some clear effort, tossing a sideways glance at me and waving his hand towards the ship exit. I nod, getting the message and follow as he opens the door and it clangs down heavily onto the ground. Stepping out, I see a variety of men and women, even a few children looking worse than I've ever seen someone look.

It looks as though they haven't eaten a good meal in a while. Many are stained with grease, engine oil, dirt and other things. Most of their clothes have holes in them or are just about to fall right of their bodies if I breathe too hard in their direction. I meet their curious eye contact, surprisingly their eyes don't match the appearance of the rest of their person. Their eyes are still full of life just like anyone else. They're not full of sorrow like the homeless I see spending their days under noisy apartment complexes, drowning their sorrows with booze or something heavier.

One of them approaches, clearly a man of influence by the way he carries himself. It's quite odd, actually, seeing someone stand so tall and proud after you get a glance of what they look like and the state of their people. I admire it, to be honest. He offers his hand, grinning widely. "Hey there, name's Paul. Ain't part of the Serpentis Wing, unfortunately. I'm supposed to take ya to Pygmy. Just follow me, ain't too much walkin' needs doin'."

I return his smile, nodding and following close behind him as he leads me out of the cluttered and noisy hangar.

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[Evo]

Following Paul down winding corridors which appear to be just a tap with a pencil away from crumbling, I wonder what such a huge man of standing in the criminal organization responsible for the most foreign deaths in Liberty will be like. Paul walks along kicking pebbles and pieces of rock down the hall as he goes.

After what seems forever passing various living quarters, storage rooms and securely padlocked doors we arrive to a large door. The familiar red and black symbol of a snake curled up followed by the words "Serpentis Wing" covers the door. Paul nods to me silently, knocking on the door and retreating down the hall to where he came from. I tap my foot impatiently, glancing behind me until a booming voice yells out through the door "'O the hell's this?"

The voice startled me and I take a step back, pausing and yelling back "It's, uhm, Frank. I'm here to ah.. interview Mr. Pygmy." For a second or two, nothing but silence is heard. Then an audible grunt, and what seems like an eternity of various bolts and locks sliding back. Finally the door opens and a surprisingly clean well built man with one of those huge bushy beards mountain men had back on Sol sizes me up. I fidget a little, intimidated by the large man. He stares at me, sighing. "Ya gonna come in or jus' sit there fidgetin'?" I nod slowly, stepping inside and he shuts the door behind me.

Probably something around 30 locks cover the entire door. Somehow the man manages to shut them all pretty quickly, must've been practicing for a long while. I glance around the room, it looks like a million credit a night hotel in comparison to the earlier rooms I passed through. Some children are playing in the corner with some strange purple rocks. Tossing them at the wall repeatedly it seems like they're playing a game to see who can break one first.

The well built man nudges me, nearly knocking me over. "You bring your paperwork?" I pause, trying to think about what he could mean then I remember and quickly take out some pieces of parchment folded in my back pocket. I hand them over to him, nodding. "Birth certificate, proof of citizenship, proof I've lived here all my life. It's all there." Suddenly a loud shattering noise rings through the room and I whip my head over to see what's happened. It seems like they finally broke one of the purple rocks and managed to cut themselves at the same time as crying slowly erupts. Hurriedly a woman rushes out of an adjacent room and ushers the children into the room she came out of, scolding them. "What did I tell you about playing with the artifacts?! No dessert for two weeks. Get your butts in here." During this entire situation the man doesn't even glance over to see what's going on. He thumbs through the papers, coughing or grunting occasionally.

After a long delay, he nods. "You're good. Up the stairs, last door on the right." He pauses, glaring at me and adding "Don't go exploring if you know what's good for you." I quickly nod, take my papers and hurry up the stairs following his instructions to the letter. Arriving at the door, I knock three times lightly. No response. I knock a bit harder. Still no response. "Ya got some nuts or what boy? Knock like a damn man." I cough nervously, knocking hard enough to bruise my knuckles and a chuckle roars out of the room. "Feheheheheh. Alrighty then boy-o, come on in." I open the door slowly, slipping in and shutting it behind me.

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[Evo]

The room I enter is pretty much almost pitch black, my eyes adjust gradually and I see there is in fact a dim red glow.
A short man I can't see well in this light stands next to a chained up limp body.
He grins at me, the whiteness of his teeth shining like something creepy you'd see in a horror movie.
"I'd like ya to meet someone, boy-o." He plants a finger on the bodies head, forcing it up and I can now see the man is in fact alive.
He appears slightly Kusarian, although I can't quite tell in the light.
"This here is Rikuro. Tell 'im what ya did, Rikuro."
The man starts yelling frantically in a thick Kusarian accent "Help, help! I love Liberty, I no do an--" A loud smack rings through the room as the short man plants his palm into Rikuro's face hard.
I feel sick to my stomach watching this, scratching my neck anxiously hoping the man doesn't notice my unease and take it as something else.
"See, Rikuro 'ere tends t'speak out 'o turn a bunch. Slant-eyes just don't know what's good for 'em, tell ya what."
He pauses, patting Rikuro on the side of his head rather awkwardly as he has to stretch up to do so.
"Like to try again, Rikuro?" Rikuro pauses, crying quietly and opening his mouth as if to say something then closing it again.
The short man glares at him threateningly, and Rikuro finally speaks up after gulping hard. "I.. Bought helium to b-bring back to Kusari."
The short man chuckles, shaking his head. "Not just that, m'dear Rikuro. Ya took part in makin' sure honest folk stay held down, unable t'get jobs."
He chuckles, swiftly planting a fist into Rikuro's gut and watching him wince, trying to gain his breath back.
Then he looks to me, continuing. "Frank. D'ya know what we do t'slant-eyes doin' what they ain't supposed to 'round here?"
I shake my head rather feebly, signalling no.
He chuckles a deep hearty chuckle, nodding. "Few do, 'else these folks'd learn t'stay the hell outta where they ain't welcome."
He steps to the side a bit, slamming his fist into a button on the wall.
A thick, crescent glass door slides up in front of Rikuro as the back wall slides down.
He begins flopping rather pathetically in the vacuum, held by the chains and staring back at us with sheer terror.
Slowly the chains lengthen, as the short man proceeds to yell into a radio "Huntin' season, boys!"
Loud noises of engines roar up, audible through the glass door and fighter craft zip by.
Two shots of huge blasts of red and black particle cannons later, and Rikuro is no more.
The small man pumps his fist, yelling into the radio "Damn nice shot!" He then looks to me, adding "Oh, 'm Pygmy by the way."

---

[Evo]

I stare at Pygmy, not saying a word out of shock. What could possibly warrant such a brutal execution simply because of exporting goods? He notices my silence, speaking up "Guessin' ya still got them fancy morals draggin' on ya, aye?" I cough, nodding at him and tapping my foot a bit nervously. Cocking his head at me, he grins. "I'll show ya what this was for then, boy-o." He moves to the door, jerking his head in the direction of the door signalling me to follow.

I quickly follow in his wake out the door and back down the stairs. Noticing the shattered artifact in the corner, he sighs and shakes his head. The large man from before raises his hand as a hello and Pygmy returns it, pointing to the door. He nods, beginning to slide back the seemingly infinite number of locks. Pygmy changes his position a bit, patting me on the shoulder. "But first, Mother's Finest gonna knock that shock right outta ya, don't worry 'bout it boy-o."

Finally the door unlocks and we begin the long trek down winding corridors. I'm still a bit iffy about whether or not we're going to be buried under mountains of rubble, these hallways are just scarily out of repair. We arrive back in the hangar where I arrived and Pygmy yells out in a surprisingly loud voice for his size "'EY, BOYS. MUDDER'S FINEST FOR THIS'UN. SAW 'IS FIRST." The men around the room cheer, one of them literally having to hold his pants together as he raises his fist. A child that looks to be around sixteen or seventeen enters the room carrying a big crate, obviously struggling under the weight of it. Finally he places it on the ground in front of us and Pygmy kicks the top of it off. Grabbing a cloudy glass bottle, free of markings or anything I seriously question just how safe this "Mother's Finest" is. The box itself smells like a mixture of rocket fuel and beer.

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[Evo]

I bring the bottle up to my nose and wince as it feels like it's literally singing my nose hairs. Reluctantly I take a drink as everyone watches in the room eagerly. It's like ingesting liquid fire. The others watch me closely, laughing hard at my expression. Just how strong is this stuff, holy hell. I can literally just feel.. my body.. relaxing...

---

"You seen this'un? Takes liquor like a five year old girl. Feheheheheh." Speech's in the background, I can hear it but don't really recognize what's being said or who's saying it. Everything's all dark. "Oi, 'e's stirrin'. Smack 'im."

** One sharp thud of pain later.. **

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Blinding light and chuckling stirs me from my sleep.
I see three fuzzy figures standing around me slowly coming into focus. "Wh-where am I?"
As my vision focuses more, I can see they're grinning like idiots.
One of them's Pygmy, other ones I have no clue.
"Welcome back sleepin' beauty," one of them says, "Ya passed out from a swig 'o Mother's Finest. 'S mornin'. We took th'opportunity t'move ya t'the next stop."
The others nod, Pygmy moving to a window.
Seems we're on a ship. Casually Pygmy points to the two others in succession, "'S Alvin an' Mike. Ain't got their snake names yet but they're bright'uns. Ya'll be joinin' us on a lil' adventure."
Focusing on something in the distance, he frowns grimly.
"Planet Denver. You know 'bout that?" I shrug, then realize he can't see me and speak up "Yeah, I guess. Miners used to live there mainly. Sold their properties to businessmen and the like."
Pygmy chuckles, shaking his head. "'S a lie. Ain't no sellin' gone down, 'cept for the LPI. Most 'o Denver had no money on account 'o the 'roids dryin' up in Col'rado an' corporations sellin' out in favor of cheap foreign labor. Ain't no job fer them t'get no money."
Placing his arm above the window and leaning into it, he continues.
"LPI rolled in and evicted us. We lived on the streets, managing as rich folk that ain't give no damn about us took over our properties an' stuffed their faces while we scavenge through scraps t'get by. Soon after, that ended up not bein' enough. Some 'o us were lucky 'nough t'get transports offworld 'fore it happened. 'S wasn't a night 'n day change. We were never wanted there, an' most had no way t'rise out of it. LPI started beatin' on us, detainin' for no good reason 'cept it was the wishes 'o them fancy shmancy rich folk. If we fought back, they arrested us. Most 'o the Sugarland filled with us t'keep us outta sight an' outta mind. Many starved t'death or had t'resort to stealin'. Again, same result. Sugarland or death. Nobody really cared, 'cept for us. The odd occasional sympathetic LPI officer'd pipe up 'bout the conditions an' brutality. 'E'd be gone the next day. I ain't gonna tell you th'story of how we left, but it wasn't easy. T'save ourselves we had to leave any hope 'o things returnin' to the way they was."

I listen to his story, not really knowing what to say if anything. Even if it was true, why didn't they just leave for another House or become zoners. Why resort to killing people and blowing things up? They could always go through the courts and the system. This isn't a dictatorship ruled by corporations, it's a republic. Isn't it?

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[Evo]

Suddenly, our conversation is interrupted by a loud blaring alarm emanating from the cockpit. The pilot yells back to us, "Missiles incoming, hold tight!" The ship lurches around violently as the pilot loops and attempts to shake the missiles. It's at that time I notice we had escorts, as loud explosions erupt to our right and left and the entire hull vibrates un-believeably strong. Around me the men spout various curse words and I notice I'm gripping my seat so excessively my knuckles are starch white.

Just then, it happens. We collide with an asteroid, our shields down from the nearby explosions and the front of ship crumples instantly. The pilot is killed on impact, the rest of us are thrown forward violently into our seat belts. Metal doors shut violently all around the four of us. With a loud hiss, I'm pressed down into my seat as my pod ejects.

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From this point onward, the story switches to Pygmy. If you wish to follow Frank, visit this thread.

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[Evo]

Drifting through the abyss aimlessly as he realizes the thrusters on his escape pod are broken, Pygmy bursts into laughter. Not a normal kind of laughter, the kind of laughter filled with dark notes and a sense of thick irony. Is this the end for him? Has he finally been shown that he cannot accomplish the goal they have all been working for?

He sighs, knowing they have been fighting a losing battle for years. That was what he signed up for. Fighting against the impossible odds for a slim chance at improving the lives of his fellow Libertonians. He signed up to give his life for those that will never appreciate it. He signed up to be labeled as a common terrorist, preying on the weak and innocent when in actuality he is one of the last lines of defense against a downwards spiral into dictatorship.

Pygmy isn't stupid. He knows Liberty is not truly a Republic. It is a nation run by money, and only by money will it change. Money is power, and that power is far greater than any measure of tenacity Xenos can muster up. Endless waves of foreigners throw themselves into his house, coming to steal our riches. Drooling at the mouth, they run straight into a spear. Behind them, the next does the same. None pay any mind to what has happened to the ones come before them, because money is such a cruel mistress that it clouds judgement and invokes a burning flame of desire that ignites the most radical conviction our race has.

Greed is a mother, isn't it.

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