Generating Information...
Location: [REDACTED]
Ship ID: Rising Sun
Status: Functional
Initiating Docking Sequence...
![[Image: nxecTOH.png]](http://i.imgur.com/nxecTOH.png)
The Rising Sun.
A ship once used for righteous adventures and conquests into deep space, it's meaning has long since been lost, and is now a free floating center for scum of Sirius to gather and drink. Pirates and mercs alike migrate to this dangerous hub from all corners of the galaxy. The ship itself, aside from the rust and graffiti, is in rather decent condition on the inside, and appears to be capable of sustained flight, possibly even interstellar travel. Deep within the treacherous ship's hull is a bar, converted from a once grandoise mess hall, it has been subjected to too many years of harsh abuse. A think grime of unknown consistency covers the floor, the walls decaying partially in spots, and bits of the ceiling leaking with what appears to be a mixture of blood, water, and possibly H-fuel give the atmosphere a very cold and uneasy feeling.
The bar is quiet, the sound of a creaking hull masks what noise the few inhabitants are making. It's fairly empty, and several people have made themselves at home, including the bartender. An older man is sitting at the counter drinking a very pungent smelling malt liquor while a much younger, fair skinned woman claims a booth to herself, drinking shots of tequila with no apparent effect. A tall, dark figure stands in the shadows, a hood assisting the shadows in covering his face. Not far from the figure is what would appear to be a mercenary, his age masked by the numerous scars covering his face, seated in a booth. Neither of the men are drinking, the merc being preoccupied by a knife and the hooded figure keeping his head nodded. The bartender sits behind the counter, casually cleaning his sidearm while his customers mind their own business. He sits below an old wooden sign reading,
"Enter at ye own risk"
Karim's ship glided effortlessly into the Rising Sun's docking bay. His Waran, stripped of it's colors and most of it's guns, still rumbled as he climbed out. The walk to the bar was a short one, and upon arrival he stopped momentarily at the sight of things. After a quick observation of the room he made his way to the bar's counter, sitting a few seats over from the old man. He tapped twice on the tattered surface, making eye contact with the bartender before turning to the comms device on his wrist. The thing had become more of a PDA in recent days, with no need to contact anyone besides Lucy, of whom he already spoke to daily without the device. The thud of the bartender dropping a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses on the counter stole Karim's eyes momentarily, and after a moment of watching him pour Karim and the old man a glass each, he turned back to his device, tapping it several times to begin streaming music to his earpiece. Satisfied, he lowered the device and turned to the glass, picking it up in one hand and digging in his pockets for a cigarette with the other.
The nameless merc's head lifted as he watched Karim enter the bar. His tongue flicked the corner of his mouth slightly as he sat down. He sized the man up, estimating his ship's value, as well as what he might have on him. Just as both of Karim's hands were occupied he jumped into action, appearing at Karim's side almost within an instant. He roughly placed his hand on his shoulder and shook him.
"Hey buddy. You're in my seat."
Karim's head tilted slightly as he heard footsteps approaching. He quickly flipped a cigarette from his pocket into his mouth and adjusted himself as the man placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey buddy. You're in my seat."
He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
"Is that so? My apologies friend."
Karim grabbed his glass in one hand and moved a seat over towards the old man. He placed his glass and used the same hand to reach for his lighter.
The merc smiled, shaking Karim once more.
"I don't think you understood me. You're. In. My. Seat."
He grunted out the last few words as he slid his jacket back, exposing his pistol on his hip. The merc placed his hand slowly on the gun and tapped his fingers on Karim's shoulder impatiently.
"It's rude to listen to music while other people are talking to you. Why don't you turn that off and give it to me?"
"I don't think you understood me. You're. In. My. Seat."
Karim's eyes flickered to see the man's sidearm, his movements hidden by the lighter in his face. He lit the cigarette calmly and sighed a breath of smoke before hearing the man once more.
"It's rude to listen to music while other people are talking to you. Why don't you turn that off and give it to me?"
Karim's cigarette burned brightly for a moment, almost giving off a quiet sizzling sound before the sudden crack of a gun firing in the bar. He lifted the smoking gun from under his jacket to place in it's shoulder holster.
"Sorry, did you say something? I couldn't hear you over my music." His stare stayed straight and uninterested, not acknowledging the man as his body fell limp behind him. He slowly removed his cigarette and tapped the bar with his hand.
"I'm going to need a bigger glass."
Half the patrons looked up at the sound of the gun, including the woman and the bartender. The bartender leans over to inspect the damage as he shakes his head, looking over at Karim as he taps the counter. "I'm going to need a bigger glass." The bartender took Karim's shot glass, replacing it with a regular drinking glass. As he filled the glass, the fair skinned woman stood from her booth and walked over to the fresh corpse, lifting it with surprising ease. She lifted it over her shoulder in a calm fashion, took one last shot of tequila and walked into the smokey depths of the ship, her heels echoing in the distance. The tall figure in the corner raised his head slightly to inspect Karim, who watched the woman vanish into the bowels of the ship.
"You'd do well not to think about what she does with the bodies," the figure said calmly, resting on an elbow beside Karim, swirling ice in an empty glass idly .
"You'd do well not to think about what she does with the bodies"
Karim jumped slightly at the sound resonating beside him. He'd not heard the man approach, nor did he remember seeing him with a drink when he entered the bar.
"I'll take you up on that advice," Karim retorted, still eyeing the man with a raised brow as he took a drink from his whiskey. "How did you do that exactly? Move without me noticing, I mean?"
The shadowy man grunted. "Call it a gift." The glass of ice clanked awkwardly as he placed it on the counter. He turned his head slightly to inspect Karim, watching the man smoke and drink. The hood returned to it's previous position as he looked away. "Never mind about me. What brings you to such corners of Sirius as this filth-hole?"
Karim eyed the man suspiciously for a moment before looking back into his drink. His shoulders relaxed slightly at the realization that this man was not like the last, and likely wasn't a threat to him.
"My story is a long and sad one friend," he said as he took a breath of his cigarette. He exhaled slowly, blowing smoke over the ice of his drink, "My partner and I have been out of a home and out of work for a while now. Life's been rough. We've essentially become drifters now, just wandering for scraps to live off." Karim closed his eyes as his cigarette burnt down to a stub, flicking it into the ash tray with mediocre accuracy.
"Eventually I found this place. It's much easier to drink with a thug trying to mug you than being chased by the police. But enough of my depressing story. What's your story? It doesn't exactly look like you're here for the alcohol."