Carlton stared into his drink. Times were hard, and were going to get harder, for a little while at least. He didn`t take any notice of the crowd and they didn`t take any notice of him. Which was just as well really, they way he was feeling he didn`t want anyone to take notice of him. The young man was just really peeved off, lost his ship, lost his money.
"Shouldn`t have gambled." he thought, "I can`t play poker."
The young Liberty Rogue had gambled his Greyhound and his last million credits in a drunken poker match between him and some stupid merc. He was lost in misery, he didn`t even hear the gunshots and the sounds of fighting coming from near the door. He didn`t even look up, didn`t flinch. The drink bought with the last of his credits didn`t even look appealing anymore.
Carlton got up and walked through the crowd only then noticing how quiet it had got. Everyone was staring at a guy near the door.
"You blokes alright?" the figure said.
The body on the floor covered in blood took Carltons attention.
"Hey thats the guy who beat me at poker." exclaimed Carlton moving over to the body.
Bending down Carlton rifled through the pockets and found a credit token for a couple of thousand credits. No one took any notice of him stealing the dead mans money, they were too busy nursing their apparant shock at the event that had just happened.
"That`ll do for starters." thought Carlton.
The thought of buying a new ship and the long arduous journey of filling it with silver to build up his balance to replace his Greyhound filled his head.
"Mum," he thought, "I won`t be coming home for a bit longer."
Carlton left, credit card in his pocket. Walking the corridors toward the shipyard where he was going to buy a cheap ship, he bumped into a Rogue officer.
"Hey Carlton, " the officer said, "I got a presen for ya." The officer threw something toward him.
Carlton caught it and stared at it. It was a module block.
"Whats this?"
"Its your 5 million creds you doofus, go cash it in and get your ship sorted out..." said the officer sauntering in the general direction of the bar.
"Who`s this from?" asked Carlton in disbelief.
"Someone by the callsign Battle or something, I don`t know. Probably did you a favor, you know how the boss is so busy and everything. See ya later..."
Carlton could not believe his luck. He thought he was never going to get his busary, now he wouldn`t have to go spend a month mining silver in the copperton field. He thought he`d give the credit he got off the dead merc to one of the children charites the rogues were running.
Today was going to be a great day.
In actual life every great enterprise begins with and takes its first forward step in faith...
The first shot hit my glass. Instinctively my blaster was out and I began to scan from left to right.
Several more shots and then.....silence, save for the running and yelling that ensued. What the hell just happened?
A dead guy on the floor in a pool of gore, and an apparently very dangerous man standing over him, asking if everyone was alright. People stampeding through the narrow exit, or cowering behind upended tables. That is what I saw. I remember wondering if I had passed out or something. I began checking myself for wounds.
Nothing.
"You're still alive....don't worry, Junker" said a voice over my shoulder.
I turned around....and pointed my blaster right between his eyes. He appeared to be a pilot of some sort, judging from the tattered flight suit he was wearing. The arms of the suit bore several faded patches,military insignia it seemed....but none that I recognized. I didn't see any weapon near him or on him. To top it all off, he was grinning at me.
"Identify yourself ....and don't even think about reaching for anything" I said. My finger tightened around the trigger of the blaster.
"Relax Paul, your brother sent me...he said you would be suspicious. I am not armed...see?"
I tried to place the accent,but couldn't. My brother indeed.
"I'll say it one more time...identify yourself...NOW!" I pulled the trigger and his comm array vanished off of his belt in a shower of sparks.
"OKAY! Sheesh...I didn't know you were this bad" he replied hands raised,"My name is Carlos Mendoza, I pilot the fighter the Jack of Spades, I am a mercenary...what else do you want?"
"Who sent you?" I growled.
"I told you already, your brother Nick..."
I glared at him.
"Nina, Pinta..." I practically whispered.
"Santa Maria" he replied. I thought he was going to faint.
I holstered my blaster.
"Sit down Mr.Mendoza" I said curtly, gesturing to my booth in the empty bar.
He sat, I asked, and this is what he told me........
It had been a long day.
`Stupid fool, waddya go play the hero for. I need a drink. I need several drinks`
Carlton went to the bar, ordered five strong cardi-cokes and sat down. The bar lady came over with the cokes. "Wheres your friends?" asked the lady bringing the cokes. She`s nice thought Carlton. `Stop it.` he told himself.
The first three cokes went down in seconds. The others Carlton stared at them. Two left, he knew if he drunk the other two as quick, he would be on the floor. He was missing home. He was missing his mum. Young, stupid and dangerous he was. He hadn`t contacted his mum in two months.
The yound rogue rubbed his eyes. It wasn`t tiredness, it was the strain. He was feeling the strain. Losing his father cut him up, and he had been so busy he`d forgot all about his mum. `She doesn`t know. God, she doesn`t even know.`
Being so busy, Carlton never sent a message to his mum telling her of his fathers death at the hands of Liberty scumbags.
Coke number four went down like a shot. Number five hit the back of the throat before number four had a chance to go hit the bottom.
Ten minutes later he`d passed out on the table, snoring loudly.
In actual life every great enterprise begins with and takes its first forward step in faith...
Axton put his feet up on the table and leaned back. A warm, though thoroughly mediocre meal sat in his belly with a mug of watered wine. He'd decided to go with a decent drink instead of having the cooks attempt an honest meal out of the ration paste most of the rogue pilots lived on. He was safe for the moment. A few mix ups happened outside Buffalo every day, but nothing he'd been asked to get involved with. It had been days since the Rogue prisoner rescue on Manhattan and his exodus from LPI controlled space. The boss hadn't gotten back to him yet, but he was patient. The Rogues weren't taking it any easier on the police than they would have if he were out in a bloodhound. He accessed his net account again and went over his supplies and equipment, as well as funds. No big deal. This was all giving him time to gather info, like knowledge of other pirate allies and the atrocities of the corporations and government officials from all over Sirius. About the only people who didn't piss him off lately were the Bretonians. After giving concessions to the Mollys and cooperating with their wish for independence, the only major presence that bothered him in that cluster was BMM and the Corsairs. He wasn't going to make a point to go after either yet, but he wouldn't hesitate to rough up any BMM executive transports that passed his way.
He let out a slight sigh as his food settled. He hadn't seen either of the pilots from before since he landed. He rather wanted to go out for a jaunt with them and do some actual Rogue-ing. He huffed slightly and got up. In only 2 minutes he'd worked himself into a need for action. Without any other orders, he decided he better head out on an unofficial patrol to work it out of his system.
Rudo spat out the rest of his chew into his requested extra cup, his drink finally having arrived.
It had been a good day. Running the Hudson gauntlet of Liberty forces, ferrying industrial supplies, military goods and intel between sides. Tensions were rising, and such things were needed. He'd flown in Rheinlanders from Liberty who'd had enough of the rising tensions and threats of segregation. How would anyone know if there were people among them who knew important things about Liberty's military capacity and weaknesses?
From Rheinland he picked up a cache of weapons, both ship-mounted and ground assault. Mercenary arms dealers, who themselves wanted Rheinland to go to war again. They'd profited immensely during the Nomad struggle and wanted another such payday. He was happy to know such men -- as a prince among morally bankrupt capitalists, he knew how to manipulate his own kind. They went along with anything with the promise of personal profit and were immensely easy to betray when the time was right.
He himself kept the camera on his ship running full-time in Rheinland, idly poking along the outskirts of the trade lanes, recording patrol routes and counting ships.
Both sides paid well. Neither house knew of the other's bargain with him. Two fat contracts, and the dagger was ready for when the relationship stopped being profitable and the risks of potential enemies outweighed the benefits of an immense payday.
If his hard work paid off, both sides would start their advances in earnest, and they would need supplies and intel even more. Who better than the Junkers to provide such a service... for a modest fee of course? And if it didn't, like he said; the dagger was ready. Those who would have the best chance to stop him wouldn't get the chance. He also knew how to disappear. Men like him either knew to disappear, or didn't live very long.
A trio of Rogue patrolmen, unshaven and quivering from their cardamine high, bustled on by, talking three times as fast as one would normally. They went on excitedly about their raid on a convoy, how it had been a success. H-Fuel, engine parts and a slew of prisoners for ransom... and only two wingmen lost.
He took a sip of his drink and scratched at his old wrestling mask. Few knew his real face. Those that knew his face didn't know who he really was. One could calculate from this that the mask was more his face now, than the skin beneath it. Family tradition and it made him a minor celebrity where it profited him.
Rudo, the last luchador.
Rudo, the masked wheelman who had a line in everything.
Rudo, everyone's best friend.
It paid to be everyone's friend. If the day came when it stopped paying to be friendly, then it paid to know their secrets. When that time came, it also paid to have nobody know your true face.
Few knew his face. Nobody talked to him. He liked it that way.
He straightened his tie and tightened the lace on his mask, before quietly signalling for another drink. The tip he'd left on the last one made sure this one came fast.
Walking into the bar, Carlton too a big deep sniff of the air. It was good to be back. The long trip around Sirius took a good month. It was a big place, Sirius, lots to see and lots to do. It was good to be back home though. He ordered a few drinks and was waved over to a table with lots of other rogues sitting around it.
One said, "Hey Carlton, where the heck have you been. You missed the show."
"I been all over Sirius, went exploring, man the sites I `ve seen and the girls I`ve kissed." he told them.
"Oh yeah, we know about the girls you kiss." said another.
"CARLTON, GET YOUR ASS UP TO MY OFFICE - NOOOWW." , the voice of the commanding officer in charge of Buffalo Base was heard above every voice in the bar.
"Oooooo, Carlton, you`re on the mat."
As Carlton left the table, the other rogues grabbed the drinks he left behind, and then they threw chips at his head.
"See ya later Carlton. You doofus. He he."
A smile came over Carlton`s face... Yeah, its good to be back.
In actual life every great enterprise begins with and takes its first forward step in faith...
A young woman wandered into the bar idly, taking a lazy gander around the room.
"Well this looks pleasant..." The sarcastic remark drifted through her mind.
A few heads turned as she entered the bar. Not every day the riff-raff laid eyes on one so young - or pretty - in the Hell Bound Hole. She was a welcome sight.
A little too welcome.
She wandered up to the bar and plopped down on an empty stool. "Water please." She asked nicely.
The barkeep had to do a double-take. "Aren't you a little young to be in here, Miss?"
"I asked for a water, didn't I?" She replied with a touch of venom.
He cocked an eyebrow fractionally. "Fair enough. You new here?"
The fiery red-headed girl looked up at him. "Yeah, sorry. I just uh... signed up. Name's Draya."
OOC: Hmm... this one isn't too active. Get out the shovels, boys.
A tall man strolled into the doorway. He had a snide expression on his face, with light brown hair covered by a fedora, wearing a slightly-weathered business suit. One cannot look into his eyes, as they are covered by a pair of slight-red-tint glasses.
He shouted across the room "Barkeep!". The response was a beckoning gesture to the bar counter.
"What brings you here, friend?" A bottle of Rogue Rum was placed next to the man's hand.
"I'm not here for the drink today. I need" - he paused midsentence to scan the room.
"i hear you need information." says an outcast pilot sitting a few feet away from him. drinking from a huge tankerd of cardi-cola..
"i might know what you want. how ever,...." he said " it will cost you"
he took another drink of his cardi-cola paid for it. stood up and took a long swig of the bottle of rouge rum. "ahhh" he sighed "good stuff" he handed the bottle to the man.
' Wrote:<span style="font-family:Century Gothic">Violence is Golden</span>
The dark red bottle was placed back on the table. The man gestured to it, and the Outcast took another swig.
"About this, information. I need to know more about the Liberty Navy. Their pilots, their ships, their tasks. For each appropriate piece of information, I'll reward you."
"I'm needed elsewhere. Here's my card, in case you are interested in my offer."
S&A Card' Wrote: Elliot Salem, CEO, Salem & Associates
![[Image: DTdrqPU.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/DTdrqPU.gif)
![[Image: Draya-Mug.png]](http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk73/Thundogre/Draya-Mug.png)
![[Image: GatewaySig.png]](http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk32/beander2/GatewaySig.png)
