Talking partially to himself, partially to a metallic object that keeps changing its shape as if to frustrate narrative description Mach (as he's started to call himself) closed the maintenance panel on the deserted station then said
"Which reminds me, retrieving some of the parts and swapping others is not funny. Turned out rather fortuitous being off course in the end but it could have just as easily caused a core breach."
The object, settling on being a ball for the moment, uncontrollably wobbles, shakes and rolls about the room. As the laughter it couldn't vocalise didn't echo around the room Mach reaches into his inside coat pocket. The "laughter" continues silently until it sees what Mach's been slowly taking out of his pocket. A blanket. A white blanket. A white fleece blanket. A white fleece blanket with fluffy bunnies on it.
Upon identifying the blanket the ball screams off out of the room, down random corridors, into and out of ventilation shafts and straight towards the airlock. The airlock is suddenly blocked by Mach and the blanket. As the blanket fluttered and floated onto the floor the ball, now frozen stock still, cursed vehemently and silently as it accepted its fate.
Gently scooping up the ball and blanket in a small bundle Mach shifts back into his new quarters in his new home. After depositing the bundle in a small box Mach stretches out on to a sofa. Pulling a datapad out of his pocket, as well as a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Mach starts to read, smoke and doodle.
Klaxon's blared, alarms sounded. The holos came to life and displayed a multitude of warnings. Machine barely had time to get up from the couch as an incoming transmission was displayed. A face he didn't knew, blowing up smoke to the camera. And in an Odin, of all things.
He opened the transmission and asked:
"And who are you?"
A voice chuckled as the smirk appeared live and streaming at the holo. A babe, no doubt. But a dangerous one. That voice sent chills down his spine. And yet triggered a memory. He knew this voice.
"Silver. The Silver Reaver. Now where do i dock into this arsed forgotten wreck?"
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop
Machine took a moment to collect his thoughts upon hearing the hail. Honestly, he didn't do that well.
[. . . I-It can't be. Even as exceptional and truly unique as her . . .]
{Never mind that! Oh yeah! Eternal damnation and ruin await! And yeah! It never, ever, EVER looked so good!}
[What? Who are you?]
{You. Well the part of you that thinks that way, y'know, your libido. Who cares though! Less talk - more of her!}
[Go. Away. Can't think too long. Gotta reply.]
{Whatever. That image to end all images is in your long term memory now! Party time! Later! Oh, don't act like a feeb. It'll kill the buzz. After!}
[Anyway . . .]
(Pretend you're not in. Too late. Run. Shift away. You can't even show a kill to your name, not that you deserve it. A legend like that . . . a nobody like you? It'll end in a bad way.)
[You need no introduction, take a hike, don't come back. Okay I'm no crackshot but I've other things going for me. Time to try something . . . impressive. Never hurts to put your best foot forward for those who have made their name.]
(That's a bad idea. You'll not manage a field that big, never mind two.)
[Sod. Off. Really. Don't come back. I'm concentrating here.]
\\ The phase variant is 7.2 not 7. //
[Let me guess - my techy side?]
\\ Correct, yet irrelevant. The facts are such an operation will not be stable. //
[This'd be easier if I didn't have to listen to the whole lot of you at once! Ach, the hell with it. Sometimes it's better to just turn it all up to eleven and hope for the best. After all - it doesn't make you any more or less wrong than you already are.]
With that he raised a hand in the air and, with a total lack of special effects denoting such a dramatic event - the Odin vanished from the comm screen. In the room however now stood it's pilot.
Nearly falling to his knees from an unseen hammer-blow the man took a deep breath, straightened up and said "Already done. Bay 1. Machine Reaver. At your service. Also . . . sorry. The shift didn't leave allowances for your cigarette. However, please feel free."
He offers the open pack, now in his hand, to Silver.
"I'll never forgive myself if I don't ask though, how? I'd always assumed your . . . synergy? . . . with certain forces had been in the realm of invoking, not evading."
Resuming the two lit cigarettes that were formerly resting in the ashtray, having similarly just 'appeared', Machine awaited the reply from the legendary figure stood before him.
This was a first for her. Silver was not used to be pulled. Only pushed. Although her memory jogged a memory of Titanium mentioning a very expensive and big device based on the jump technology. With a smirk, she grabbed the hand and removed one of the cigars. The man, Machine, lit it up with a professional speed. Getting the needed intake of nicotine, Silver exhaled and cracked her neck.
"Hmm.. A Shifter Machine. Only two were built. Although i guess.. three now? Not bad, bub."
"I aim to please."
Machine faked a bow.
Silver gave a chuckle and looked at her surroundings. A derelict base, as ever she saw one. But the walls were still in one piece, and the core seemed to work, giving power to the needed systems. Not a bad hiding place. Remembering what Machine asked her, she turned and gave out a predatorial grin.
"And it ain't a synergy. It just is. I am Death. And death follows everyone. I just choose whose trail to follow, love."
Her reply was said with a silk like smooth voice... but chilling one to the core with those words.
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop
Machine grinned like he'd just been told the punchline to the great universal joke and said
"To be honest, there have been many a time that I've been expecting you and you've never came. I almost thought with having no name up 'till recently I'd shifted off of your lists. Since you're not in that formal little black number though I'm hoping you're not here in your . . . 'professional capacity' today. It intrigues me more though. If my time's not up and my luck's not yet ran out . . ."
Machine looked over at a slight rustling in a box nearby then continued
"What could a rookie with poor aim possibly do, give, or say that would captivate the attentions of someone such as yourself? Please don't get me wrong, I'm flattered beyond description but in what way could I possibly perform to satisfy such attention?"
Without waiting for a answer Machine walks up to Silver and puts his arm around her waist. Quickly, firmly but somehow gently he pulls her close and shifts again. In a fraction of a second the surroundings blur and change from the functional Comm room to a formal, yet lavish, set of quarters. Disengaging his grip and, almost as an afterthought, he says
"Sorry, former base commander's suite. Only place with a fully stocked bar. Drink?"
On the second step towards the bar, however, the man crumples, falling to one knee. Taking another deep breath he gets to his feet, although not without a visible effort, and continues towards the bar.
Silver raised an eyebrow at the moment he fell. Not the compassionate one and very practical, she waited for him to get up and resume his walk towards the bar. Machine grabbed a bottle that jingled with the gold hue of whisky and filled two glasses. One of them appeared in her hand without notice.
"Hmmm hmmm. Trying to impress me, are you? Nice control, but save yourself for when it's truly needed, bub."
Machine chuckled, and his cigar flared not a moment after. Smoke and the smell of a good old scotch permeated the air.
She nursed her drink and smelled it. It smelled good. With a sip, Dublin Single Malt came to her like it was a good memory.
"Ahh a nice drink.. And a effin' cigar. Very nice. But we need business to sugar the moment, love. You interested?"
Silver smirked while asking. Like a predator waiting for the moment to close the trap.
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop
Taking the time to take a deep draw from Machine continues to maintain the effort that the suite hadn't just been put on to the spin cycle from his point of view and says
"Like I said, I'm interested. I'm especially interested to find out what it is I'm going to be doing and, more importantly, why me? You've legions of slaving sycophants within and outside of the Reavers who, due to their thinking being controlled by lust, terror or both, would do anything for nothing in the hope of getting your positive attentions. But you came here. To me.
So, to business, the proverbial 'it', whatever 'it' may be. To start I need to know. What is 'it' that you need? Why do you need 'it' from me? Of course we can deal with the rest as it comes up."
Machine continues to draw upon then exhale great plumes of smoke from his cigar in the hope that the next will curl and twist like it should.
With the spin cycle winding down Machine tried to switch his focus from his focus to the matter at hand. Namely even if he were rested this was never going to be an easy conversation. Time to start though . . .
"Why that ship? Not really. Personal significance, tactical superiority, to annoy someone who'd rather you didn't have one, the superior ride quality of the Asgard line . . . or something else. It's a waste of a good question. Now why, even though you're remaining somewhat incognito, you'd want a nobody like me to perform this little labour for you? That . . . is the question. Like I say even without breaking cover, as it were, there's plenty of people with the skills, better equipment and tech access than me. I'm still rather flattered that I'd even appear on a radar such as yours but I really must know . . . why me?"
Taking another draw and watching the exhaled smoke curl with visible relief and joy Machine tilted his head slightly, smiled then said
"Satisfy my little curiosity and we'll get started on this little endeavor. It'll be a long road, with a few bumps no doubt, but, with a bit of teamwork, it is possible."
Her chuckle was fast in reply. Her laugh could break glass and ice the blood in someone's veins. Like death was really enjoying a good time.
"I won that Odin.. through blood and death. The Hessians weren't too keen at the time to give anyone a gun, nevermind an Odin. It means respect, love. Somethin' anyone and anythin' wants in this hellhole in the universe. I just want it clean of tanglin' issues like security and shiz."
Silver gulped the remaining contents of the glass and sighed in delight. She then skidded the glass over the counter for a refill.
"You can have that one outside to rebuild, or contact the Hessianos down in the Omegas for parts to repair, as it pertains a Reaver. Not new, since we now have the access to it all. But why you, love? Well. You're a Reaver, aren't ya? And any Reaver knows the meanin' of rule number one."
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop
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