An Opportunity - Printable Version

An Opportunity - Printable Version

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An Opportunity - Nametaken - 03-18-2011

The asteroid field that exists in the Bering system is a hazard to traverse. The asteroids themselves are a minor problem with the navigational systems available today; the major problem is what hides amongst the field. All manner of criminals take refuge within the field as capital ships may not navigate them as easily. The lone patrols of military ships that are sent into the field rarely come back with no casualties due to the cunning ambushes carried out by the less than lawfuls inhabiting it.

Tales of the atrocities committed within the field keep most civilians near the freeport or within visual range of the tradelanes. However this particular Zoner fighter seemed to be ignoring the advice of wise men and was heading deep into the field. The craft appeared to be an Eagle piloted by a Zoner of some sort. Looks can be deceiving though. This was no Zoner nor a frightened criminal on the run from the law. This was something else.
The pilot's hands seemed to glide over the controls, such was the coordination of the pilot. Within a moment, the ship responded with a beep and an electronic voice. "Course adjusted to Delta-7-32-0."

The ship darted between countless asteroids, until it stopped before a particularly impressive lump of rock. While it looked a large asteroid from most angles, from the "top" one could see a small landing bay inset in the surface. "The Junker's last resort huh? Barely worth tracking down. Well barely worth tracking down for those who don't know what's inside..."

"This is Generic Base 12 to unidentified Zoner vessel, do you copy?" Said a rather distorted voice.
"Generic Base 12? How creative. What kind of Junkers are you?" The pilot replied.
"Aha you got the code phrase right; so you're not some lost freelancer. Very well, this is Junker's Haven."
"Greetings Junkers, this is Brokenclaw."
The comm operator gasped. Brokenclaw was notorious for his brutality and the calm expression he kept while breaking bones.
"Oh ah, you're clear to dock." The man wiped the sweat off his forehead with a greasy rag. Brokenclaw was a tornado of destruction, whether you're on his side or not. His visit was unlikely to go smoothly.

Brokenclaw's eagle glided into small landing bay, touching down with a slight bump. The landing bay doors rolled shut above him. There was a loud hiss as the room was pressurized. For a moment the room was pitch black, bar the lights on the eagle's controls. A set of dazzling lights clicked on and illuminated the cavernous space. The bay was entirely empty, except for a small walkway that lead from landing pad to what appeared to be an elevator.

With a hiss followed by a click, the ship's cockpit popped open. Brokenclaw leapt out from behind the controls and onto the walkway. He stood up and smoothed the creases out of his coat. No hint of joy could be found in Brokenclaw's outfit. Black combat boots, dark grey trousers, a dark grey vest and of course, the midnight black coat. On top of the gloomy attire were the dark shades that he wore, hiding his eyes from those attempting to read his emotions.

He checked his watch, straightened his glasses and walked down the walkway. The sound of his boots against the metal floor echoing throughout the room. The elevator doors opened automatically as he approached. Brokenclaw stopped to observe the contraption. It was rather filthy and poorly illuminated. In the event of the elevator failing it would surely fall apart completely as there were few other things that could go wrong with it. Brokenclaw sighed and stepped in. "Level 3 please." He demanded. Nothing happened. The lift didn't even have voice recognition. He sighed again as he pressed the appropriate button and then lent back into the corner of the lift as it began its descent.

An Opportunity - Nametaken - 04-05-2011

The elevator came to stop with a heavy thud. "Junkers. They can make machines from anything, but it doesn't mean said machines will function." The doors slid open and clanged as they came to the end of their runners. Brokenclaw stepped out into a surprisingly well lit hallway. The lighting was the only positive thing he noted about it. Machine parts, crates, barrels and pools on miscellaneous liquids of varying colours decorated the extensive corridor. "And I thought Freeports were ill kept."

"Barret! I come all this way and you don't even have the decency to be here." Brokenclaw yelled down the hall. The sound of struggling seemed to creep out from behind a particularly large hunk of metal. Eventually the piece tumbled over with a clang that resonated throughout the halls. It turns out that the debris was covering a doorway. "Lazy sons a always leaving their crap in my way." said a man who was slouched in the doorway. The man was wearing what may have once been a white suit; it was now covered with stains and other blemishes. "Are you Barret?" The man stood up and extended a possibly clean hand. "That's me alright. You can call me the best damn pilot the Junkers have got if you'd like, but Barret's fine too." Brokenclaw took his hand and shook it firmly. "I understand you have something for me."
"Oh you bet. I've got just what you're looking for."
"Would you be willing to show me what that is?"
"Oh of course, right this way."

Barret lead Brokenclaw through the doorway into a rather narrow corridor. "You think things could get any tighter?"
"Interior design isn't really a Junker strong point my friend."
Brokenclaw ran his hand along the wall panels and found one that was not completely secure. He gave it a gentle push and it slid off.
"You got that right."
Eventually they came to a what appeared to be a store room. It was a spacious room that contained the best bits of the Junker's salvage. "I'll just grab your merchandise; don't touch anything." Brokenclaw observed the room. The back wall was lined with computers and other electronic devices, the left wall with weapons and the wall to the right with miscellaneous treasures.

Barret retrieved a small silver case. "Here it is." Brokenclaw rubbed his hands together, it was the moment he had been waiting for. Barret popped open the case and removed a small, blue sphere. He held it up with pride. "One nomad thingy ma whatsit." Brokenclaw held his hand out to take it, but Barret drew the artifact closer to himself. "Not so fast, I want to see my payment."
"But of course." Brokenclaw pulled out a small black datapad from his coat. "A database of every Junker known to the LPI, BPA, RFP and KSP."
"Uh huh, and the codes?"
"And of course the master code to KNF depots."
"Ah excellent."
"The KNF aren't stupid, that code will only be in use for another week. After that, it's useless."
"Gotcha. I'm sure we'll be able to do something in that time."
"Now my artifact please?"
Barret held out the artifact once more. Brokenclaw placed his hand upon it. For a moment both of them held the artifact. Barret hesitated for a moment before letting go. He knew the artifact could bring harm to many in the hands of Brokenclaw, yet he gave it to him anyway.
"I believe that concludes our business."
"I believe it does."

An Opportunity - Nametaken - 05-10-2011

"Say... you're my best customer in a while, perhaps you'd like to look at some of my other wares?"
"Hmm, alright, don't waste my time though."

Barret walks over to a large bin and pops open the lid. He rummages around for a bit until he retrieves what looks like a mechanical limb.

"You would really freak people out if you were running around with this!"
"So what is it?"
"It was designed to be some sort of climbing aid, it wraps around your arm like this..."

He assembled the contraption about his arm and over his hand. It fit like a gauntlet, however instead of covering his fingers, a thin array of joints ran down each one. A rings secured the mechanism to the tip of each finger. On the top of each finger rested what looked like a blade.

"So you see, you put this on when you wanna climb a wall or something."
"I don't foresee myself in a situation where that would be useful. I thought I told you not to waste my time."

Barret flicked his wrist and the blades on the fingers snapped forward to sit in front of each finger tip. It mimicked some sort of clawed fiend.

"And wham! Not only can you use this thing for the intended purpose, but you can also gut anyone who crosses your path!"
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was some sort of caped crusader, gallivanting about Liberty fighting crime."

Brokenclaw pushed his glasses back into position on his nose.

"Do you have anything that I might show some genuine interest in?"
"Let me have another looksy."

Barret went back to his stash, muttering something about the greatest thing ever. After some time searching, he looked back to Brokenclaw and smiled. He then hauled a grey case out of the bin.

"Behold! The finest piece of tech I have!"

Brokenclaw clapped sarcastically.

"Please hold the applause until the demonstration is over."

Barret flicked open the case and pulled out what looked like a rather flimsy connection of metal bars. He shook it out until it its joints snapped into place. It resembled little more than a post modern coat stand.

"You better not make a joke about my attire or I will feed you various parts of your own body."
"Could you lighten up a bit? You're really sucking all the groove out of the room. Now watch."

A small dongle was attached by a chain to the top of the array. Barret grabbed it and pointed it at Brokenclaw. Brokenclaw stepped back cautiously. The move seemed to amuse Barret. Several lasers projected from the dongle so as to scan Brokenclaw's image.

Suddenly the array lit up with multicoloured lights flashing along bars. Eventually a holographic image of Brokenclaw appeared around the array.

"Ta da! A holographic decoy!"
"Now that is impressive."
"Would you be so kind as to buy it?"
"I'll consider it, put it away for me and I'll come back for it."
"Aww come on..." Barret was interrupted by a station alarm.

*Alert our location has been compromised. Hostile contacts inbound.*
The lights flicked to the cliched red while the alert was in affect.

Barret stepped back with a quizzical look upon his face.