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Marked - Toaster - 09-05-2020

"You're cleared to dock. Approach airlock number two, hangar four."

"Copy that," Olivia muttered and terminated the channel to Ames' control tower. With a slight tap to the throttle, she nudged her ship towards the station, following the blinking lights that led her towards her docking bay like a trail of brightly colored candies.

The thought of setting foot on the freeport again sent a shudder of anticipation down her spine. The memories of her last visit were still fresh in her mind and none of them were particularly pleasant. She prayed to whatever power might be that she wouldn't find a squad of security guards waiting to detain her when she docked. As it seemed, her prayers were answered. As her fighter settled down on the deck, business around the bay continued as usual. A bustling of dock workers, crewmen, and pilots of various affiliations hurrying about, loading cargo, hauling fuel tanks, rinsing down scorch marks.

Olivia tugged at the flightsuit Moretti had given her the last time she was here. It still didn't fit her properly, despite the adjustments she had made to it on her journey to Kepler, but it didn't look quite as odd anymore. She carefully patted her breast pocket, feeling the small shape of the serpent token nestled within. Then she leapt out of the cockpit onto the steel floor of the station.

She was looking for Xenos. Apparently, any member of Moretti's particular 'Alliance' would do. But she preferred not to make contact with them in an area quite as busy as the hangars. She was hoping to keep any affiliation between herself and the terrorist group as quiet as possible - after all, she had a positive reputation with Liberty's law enforcement to maintain. Keeping her head low, she hurried out of the docking bay and into the station's corridors. They were packed with people, mostly hailing from Kusari. On her approach she had seen one of their super transports mooring to the freeport, atmosphere venting from numerous breaches in its hull. It must have been attacked on its way to Liberty, probably by the exact people she was looking to meet. Olivia hoped there wouldn't be any trouble between the Xenos and the 'foreigners,' at least while she was still aboard.

Squeezing herself through the throng, she found herself entering one of the habitation decks. It was far quieter here, most of its inhabitants at work elsewhere. Olivia took a deep breath of the freshly recycled air and looked around. Hallways split off in all directions but one of them led to a small plaza of sorts, kiosks lining the walls around it, a few Zoners and travelers standing around them, inspecting their wares and making idle chitchat. She glanced from group to group, her eyes scanning for any hints at who might be her potential contact.

A star and stripes. Red and grey, burnt and torn. They were stitched onto the boots of two men standing in the far corner, secluded from everyone else, talking quietly to one another. Olivia took another deep breath, steeling herself for the coming interaction. Then she squared her shoulders and strode straight towards them.

"Hey," she called out when she came within a few feet of the two Xenos. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the mark - a small red cobra, coiled up and presenting its fangs. Holding it out for them to see, she continued, "Your boss called me over."





RE: Marked - Reeves - 09-05-2020

The pair of Xenos sporting broken star insignias exchanged an expressionless glance. It wasn't clear what they were thinking in the moment, or if they were even taking her seriously. It was a few uncomfortable seconds before one nodded, stepped forward and reached a hand out for the mark. When it was given to him, which he would very much insist for, he took the mark and attached it to the left shoulder of her suit. It seemed designed to hold a symbol of some kind, and in it being mounted this way she appeared to be one of them. "Boss ain't here. But if you have that with you, then it means we need to take you to him and make sure you're in one piece." The two seemed somewhat off guard given how sudden her approach was, and by the way they behaved it was clear that presenting them with a mark like that was far from a common occurrence. Unbeknownst to her, she was the first to have ever presented one.

"My buddy here is going to go make sure you have an alibi if necessary. That means your ship needs to stay here, so as far as the books will be concerned, you never left the Freeport. I'll take you to the man that gave you that mark. My Kestrel ain't nothing grand, but she's fast. Come with me, please." Surprisingly enough there seemed to be a certain degree of protocol to how they were supposed to handle a situation like this. It was hardly surprising that Morreti wasn't here, likely obsessed with matters on Pittsburgh. And it didn't seem like she could be trusted to fly out and meet him wherever he might currently be. That would certainly explain why these men seemed to have their guard up.

Although he had asked her to follow along politely, he certainly didn't waste any time lingering before he turned off into a brisk walk. She was expected to keep up if she was going through with whatever this was.



RE: Marked - Toaster - 09-06-2020


So much for subtlety, Olivia thought as she glanced down at the insignia now attached to her shoulder. She hurried after the Xeno, back down the crowded corridors towards the hangar facilities.

"And where exactly are we headed?" Olivia squeezed through a group of Kusarian crewmen, cautiously covering her shoulder with her hand. Her companion seemed to be far less concerned with hiding his affiliation and simply pushed his way through the masses. She wasn't looking forward to leaving her Sutinga behind on Ames but hoped that the Alliance would at least do her the favor of keeping an eye on it in her absence. Far more concerning to her was being taxied around by a complete stranger - not to mention wanted criminal - to a place from where there might be no easy escape without her ship.





RE: Marked - Reeves - 09-06-2020

With a dismissive wave of the hand as they continued to make their way toward the hangars, he responded. "Ain't the place for that discussion. I'll tell you everything you want to know on the ship once we're clear of the place and not any sooner than that." It wouldn't be much further after he'd said that before they were in the hangar, his ship in clear view, the concoction of a madman. It was evident he took the phrase - give more power to the engines, very seriously. Appropriately named as well, No Time to Decompress.

"Cargo hold doubles as a makeshift bunk, make yourself at home. Trip might get rough, but the old girl is a bullet more than she is a ship, so you won't have to put up with it for long." There was nothing safe about anything currently happening, but if the intention was to kill her, then there were certainly less complicated ways to do so. Furthermore, there was the fact that the mark yielded a degree of reverence. And though the man acting as her impromptu chauffeur didn't exactly roll out a red carpet, she was being treated like one of them. Another snake in the grass.



RE: Marked - Toaster - 09-07-2020


Olivia eyed the vessel with a mixture of worry and suspicion. "You're sure you don't need me to sign some sort of waiver before boarding this can of junk?" She muttered as she climbed through the access hatch into what had at one point been the cargo hold. She glanced around the compartment. Makeshift was a generous description of what it was, but, to her mild surprise, she had traveled in worse conditions - if only slightly.

Heading towards the front of the bunk, she peeked through the hatch to the cockpit, watching the Xeno settle into the pilot's seat and prepare the craft for launch.





RE: Marked - Reeves - 09-07-2020

Station control was remarkably prompt with granting this freighter in particular clearance to take off. The pilot certainly didn't hesitate to gun it and fling the ship back into the vacuum from whence it came. It seemed quite sluggish to turn, but when full throttle was applied the entire frame would tremble in protest from the unnecessary amount of speed the over driven engines provided. The lanes were not an option, naturally. So the pilot steered off and started hauling it through a nearby dark matter cloud. Rocks and distant lightning whirled by silently as the craft continued onwards. It seemed as if something larger was lurking in the mist besides the occasional patrol, but there was no opportunity provided to inspect what it must have been, at least not before the kestrel went through a jump hole.

Colorado was always remarkably beautiful, a wide range of colors and the sight of a distant Denver gave a sense of safety. But out here among the rocks, it felt like an entirely different experience. It would be an entirely uneventful hustle for a few hours, the engines never ceasing to howl in agony. It would be the only good opportunity for sleep if Olivia needed any, because eventually the craft would be thrown through another jump hole and spat out in New York. Scrap lined the space around them for as far as the eye could see. An empire could be built off how much Liberty wasted. A few enterprising rogue ships made an attempt at interdiction, but soon pulled away when the kestrel mustered even more speed, sparking something fierce as it spent a few more hours cruising in for Pittsburgh's dark side. "This is the rough part, reentry. Buckle in best you can."



RE: Marked - Toaster - 09-07-2020


Olivia was already bruised and weary from the initial acceleration from Ames, the straps keeping her in the bunk's single wall-mounted seat having dug deep grooves into her skin. "This is the rough part?" she growled as she pulled at the fasteners, tightening the harness as much as possible. Whether the pilot could hear her complaints over the deafening roar of the engines, she didn't know. The headset she had put on before takeoff had been among the first items to involuntarily be removed from her person as the craft had shot off into the void like a round from a mass driver.

Apparently at least guessing at her discomfort, the Xeno glanced over his shoulder to check on her. Cursing under her breath, Olivia gave him a thumbs up, to which he turned back and gunned the ship towards Pittsburgh's night side.

Much like Ames, Pittsburgh was one of the many places on Olivia's ever expanding list of locations she would rather not revisit, though - unlike the freeport - Pittsburgh's lack of attraction had nothing to do with having brutally murdered someone. Not yet, anyway, Olivia thought to herself. The Kestrel began to shake as it skimmed the outer reaches of the planet's atmosphere, skipping like a speeding rock over a still pond. The interior rapidly heated up from the increasing air friction and Olivia prayed that enough power was still being shunted to the shields to keep the vessel from evaporating on descent.

Finally pulling back the throttle, her pilot pulled the nose down towards the planet's surface, diving them into the kilometer thick clouds of dust, ash, and pollution that covered most of the arid world. The strong winds that dominated the upper cloud layers buffeted the freighter about. Clenching her teeth, Olivia peered through the cockpit, out into the darkness around them. After several minutes of blind descent, they finally penetrated the cloud cover, the ground less than a kilometer below them. The Xeno tore back at the stick, pulling their nose up from an almost unrecoverable dive. The hull groaned and creaked from the sudden stress and for a brief second, the engines stalled. Then they sprang back to life, propelling the vessel forward at supersonic speeds, mere meters off the desert floor below them.

"Jesus Christ," the mercenary sputtered as she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. From behind, she thought she could make out the Xeno shaking with laughter, but she couldn't be sure over the howl of the engines and the vibrations of the ship.

A few minutes later, the craft finally decelerated for its final approach towards what appeared to be a small bunker built into the side of one of Pittsburgh's many enormous outcroppings. A few floodlights illuminated the area around it, including a large hatch set into the rocky ground, its door sliding open as they neared it. Sand and dust whirling up into the air around them, the Kestrel came to a hover above the entrance. The engines' incessant racket ceased as the VTOL thrusters took over, slowly descending them down the deep hole into a large, steel-reinforced cavern beneath the desert. With a final shudder, the freighter set down on the deck and finally came to a rest.





RE: Marked - Reeves - 09-08-2020

Turning back to face his tired and perhaps bruised passenger, the pilot grinned and bid her farewell with a playful announcement. "Thank you for choosing Free Republic Starlines, please exit the craft in a calm and orderly fashion and put all trays and seats in an upright position." The words served no actual purpose other than to act as entertainment, at the end of what must have been a horribly boring journey for him.

Though Olivia would hardly be aware of this fact, the craft all stationed here appeared to be almost entirely former DSE mining ships that had ditched their former occupations due to wages being slashed or preferential treatment towards foreign labor that had consumed the planet in recent years. This hideout was a focus point to fan the flames of dissidents on the surface, and to protect them if their voices became so loud that the police would come looking. Anyone disgruntled with the status quo of Liberty could, through some effort and the right connections, find their way here and start life again as a rebel. To bring her to such a clandestine location was no doubt a touchy subject, hence the mark on her shoulder and the complicated transportation arrangement. Looking down to inspect the floor would yield creative advice as to how to find Morreti, his mark was crudely painted across a metal plate, and from it stretched out a thick red and black line which lead out of this deck.

It would be simple enough to follow the line straight to whom she was here to see.



RE: Marked - Toaster - 09-09-2020


Rolling her aching shoulders, Olivia dropped out of the Kestrel, its hull painted almost completely black with Pittsburgh's dust and ashes. She glanced around the makeshift hangar. The ceiling was surprisingly high, higher than anyone would bother excavating manually. The crude steel beams mounted across it and up and down the walls for structural support further suggested that it was a natural cavern that had been reappropriated by Liberty's freedom fighters. To her surprise, it was quite busy - men and women dressed in all manner of attire bustled around the deck, some wearing mechanic's overalls, others flightsuits, a few clad in business suits and carrying briefcases. Money's gotta come from somewhere, Olivia thought, chuckling.

Glancing at the deck, she spotted the trail painted onto the steel plating and set out to follow it wherever it may lead her.





RE: Marked - Reeves - 09-09-2020

The line would lead through quite a chunk of the hideout, gradually progressing from a common area intended to be used by all manner of Xeno personnel, to a series of makeshift offices and briefing rooms aimed at the generation rebellious anti-government posters and other such supplies which would no doubt prove valuable for rallying dissidents on the planet to the cause. The hideout was by all means a passive operation, it was in no way poised to facilitate any direct assaults on police or corporate infrastructure on the planet, no it served to undermine them with rhetoric primarily, in addition to instigating unrest, it served as a convenient rest stop for Xeno personnel moving from one half of Liberty to the other, given its perfectly central location.

Eventually she was before a thick steel door, a more imposing version of the Cobra painted across the length and breadth of it. No doubt he was on the other side, likely waiting for his "accomplice" to eventually arrive. Stepping through the threshold revealed a scene which subverted expectations, the room was remarkably messy. No, it appeared quite close to ransacked. Some items seemed as if they had been thrown around in frustration, energy blaster impacts across the wall to Olivia's right and a fairly fatigued and worn Morreti seated at the center of the room. It was uncharacteristic of him to disregard his appearance like this, almost as if Sal's death had weighed on him a little heavier than might have been anticipated given his uncaring persona. The Cobra was in fact just a mark, the man it represented differed very little from his peers and was no more impervious to the shortcomings of human nature. Perhaps even less.

Despite how disgruntled he looked, his senses were still with him and he peered up instantly to take note of the fact that he was no longer alone. "You're in one piece, wasn't honestly expecting you to play along with the security I have to enforce for a place like this. The mark suits you, but I want it back when you're leaving here for good. It's not meant to be a souvenir."