Alcatraz Depot; California System; Republic of Liberty
Earning mid-life credit is hard, especially when most of the world thinks you're dead - and you need to keep it that way. The offer from Josie towards Anna caught her off guard, he was a Hessian at one point, but his reputation as a rogue made her wonder if she was worth the stress of hosting - even if it was in secret. As far as she remembered, Rogues were wild and unpredictable. Hessians were ruthless and violent, but they had a sense of direction. Every move was with intention; every outcome served a purpose one way or the other. Rogues? Well, to the rest of the world - Anna included - they seemed like people that loved to watch the world burn.
But, credit of this sort couldn't simply be turned down or ignored. In the future, it might make the difference between life and death; for Anna or someone else important.
The station's weapons were trained on the Odin as it came down from cruise speed. Its trajectory followed a similar route to the rest of the Rogue fighters flying in and out of the depot. Anticipating a hail, Anna opened a commlink, but the docking port opened before she could make a request. "Not discreet enough, I guess," she thought to herself as the ship floated inside.
Several custom border worlds ship designs made up most of the hangar, leaving the newly moored Odin even more inconspicuous than before.
A few people loitering around the hangar bay approached the strange figure dropping from the Odin's cockpit. Armor covered Anna's flight suit from head to toe; the helmet completed the outfit of someone who meant business. None of her gear resembled that of the collective Red Hessian, all that gave the strangers a relaxed vibe was a partially rubbed SOA logo on the armor's chest plate. But none of that was enough to let the feeling of caution pass, keeping one hand over her sidearm holster, she waited for one of the Rogues to say something - or try something.
Easy there big guy, if we didn't want you here we'd have shot you out of the sky.
Not here to cause trouble, looking for Hemlocke, Josie Hemlocke.
The female voice caught a few of them off guard, one of them even made a smirk. The mention of Hemlocke's name was enough to keep them from trying anything though, or so it seemed. Maybe he scared them all more than she did, didn't matter as long as there was no trouble.
He's somewhere inside, maybe having a drink, maybe not. What's your business with him?
Wanted to see me, so here I am.
Is that right?
All there is to it.
The tension between the band of Rogues and Anna was on an incline, her hand didn't dare move too far from the holster, and the rest of them kept their eyes fixed on her with no signs of budging.
Alcatraz Depot was far from a fortified base of any kind, then again the same could be said for any rogue base. Which relied far more on traps and hard to navigate terrain to remain untouchable over shock and awe fleet power. Even still the base was by no means small, made up of an odd trio of asteroids, hooked together by a disabled Scylla which likely had one hell of a story behind it, and "somewhat" functioning mooring lanes. The litany of weapons platforms and station gunnery only mattered as far as a rogue's aim or bastardized station AI was concerned
On the approach, There was an additional Scylla looming overhead, the weaponry of which did not track the vessel, though it was certainly keeping guard. Through the rocks and the space around the trio of asteroids were patrols of Hellhound gunships accompanied by Wolfhounds, along with smaller patrols of lighter elements such as bloodhounds and jackals, many of which bore different markings to indicate difference of gangs. The Depot was primarily a trading hub of unlawful luxury, thus visuals of Bactrian, Pitbulls and an assortment of other various transports could be seen going too and from the base through the asteroid fields. The Odin of her choosing seeming less and less out of place the further it approached.
Once inside one of the various hangers however, the odin spoke a different tale. Being the commonplace for this particular hangar was the custom border worlds designs. Some of rogue inspiration, be they bastardized and strung together clunky pieces of junk. Or more of a madman's design which utilized unstable power more likely to explode than throw anything of value into a fight. The mention of Hemlocke's name often made rogues uneasy, or filled with hate. A mixed bag of reactions, though the majority of them were distasteful, not a man loved by many, if any at whatsoever. Then again, such was rogue life, anyone could sell you out, anyone could kill you, and the Hellhound of Alcatraz, had killed many of his own on a semi-regular occasion, thus the reactions of the rogues in the hanger to the announcement that Heinrich was here to meet him.
The hangar was appropriately lit, though the connective corridors to adjacent hangar as well as further into the base weren't lit very well at all, save for a few very dim lights, making the approach of a vibrant crimson hue all the more obvious as it lit up the corridor across the hangar from Heinrich's current position. The light pierced the shadows, fixated on its out of place mark, the crimson red dimming as it moved closer and closer to the hangar until the lights overhead drowned out the piercing light of the red optic to reveal the features of the surprisingly neat man she had come to meet.
Though the tight fitting black T did little to hide the grotesque array of scarring on his forearms, and the wild unkempt nature of his long brown hair gave way to a peculiar and somewhat contradictory image. Shirt tucked into pants of the same shade, belted by a slightly blood stained brown leather belt, meeting down into a pair of boots. The weaponry displayed in an obvious manner, with a unique firearm to his right hip, twin blades on his left, though his arms rested to either side, hands making no motion to brandish. The unblinking gaze stared over the gathered rogues of the hangar, or rather past them, set upon the armored individual. Silence for a time, before it was broken some uneasy moments later by a voice that didn't match the picture, nor the man's voice previously heard in space, or over faulty commlinks. Low, dark, yet smooth like ice.
Just keeping this Hessian company, says she's here to see you.
One of the Rogues said as Josie's voice broke the tension between them. Anna let out a few calm breaths in relief, the group divided in two as the man walked closer and closer. It was a good thing he'd spoken up because Anna would've only been able to recall him at his voice. He'd changed since he was a Hessian, but then again, Heinrich didn't see much of him when she was one either.
The Rogues walked off in different directions; the boss was taking over now. No one dared to come between Hemlocke and whoever the random Hessian at the base was. The commanding presence left her with a few unpleasant flashbacks to when she was in a similar position, people doing as much as bending the knee at the sight of one ordinary person. It left her with a stroke of guilt and anxiety that she quickly let off with a lite head shake.
Hemlocke, I guess you haven't quite moved past your old life have you?
The unblinking gaze of the man across poured into Heinrich, the human eye narrowed at the comment, the intensity of the optic hidden behind the hair dimmed slightly, implying the same, she was analyzing him, not that it surprised him, but he was at a disadvantage because all he could see was the armor. His surprisingly clean shaven jaw shifted slightly, before he went to speak again. His right hand, scarred as it was, lifted to motion toward her, lifting up and down to draw attention to the attire.
"I could say the same."
What was immediately notable by his next movements was that she had been afforded trust, for one reason or another, taking a step backward before spinning on that same step to turn his back on Heinrich, he didn't say anything though he had begun walking back into the darkened tunnel, bathing it in the crimson optic. Likely expecting her to follow. He had surprisingly little to say in person, contrasted oddly with his demeanor when they had come across one another in space.
His lack of interest in talking seemed troublesome at first; Anna could only gather he was probably putting on this display to scare off any other Rogues and present himself like the person he was known to be. Or maybe instead, he really just had most of the answers he wanted and was humoring Anna with the visit. In any case, turning back now would do more harm than good.
Her boots began to clank against the flight deck just loud enough to give Hemlocke an indication she was following; none of the other Rogues did much more than peek their heads out from small shadows and corners of the large room. She took a few long strides to reach his side before humoring his response.
I don't have a better suit, or a better ship. So until I get something better, I'm going to look like a Hessian for a while. I hope we're not going to chat somewhere everyone will recognize me unless you want more Rheinlanders pouring in through Texas after your head.
He had continued walking through the corridor, posture shifting slightly as the crimson beam of light that lit the dark hall shifted to look back at the sounds of clanking boots, Heinrich's disposition had put it in his mind that she wasn't a threat, and yet that never shook that paranoid feeling that death was merely two steps forward at any given time. Once the woman had arrived at his side, he was forced to look slightly upward due to the height difference, though he didn't shift his posture or tilt his head to do so, giving him a rather pissed off look as the eyes were hidden partially by the furrowed brows. A once-over was given as she mentioned not having a better suit, before his eyes turned forward again as the tunnel began opening up into a much larger, properly lit room with many off-shooting tunnels just like the one they had emerged from. In this moment it would be difficult to discern whether the stares were for Hemlocke or for Heinrich, heavy armor wasn't too odd of a sight, but her particular type certainly was a first time for most of the common rabble.
Hemlocke had began moving toward a rather large set of stairs up and downward into what seemed like an even larger room than they were currently in, aligning more with the stairs upward. As they left the hangar her ship was now in, Hemlocke gave a motion back to it to a few rogues sitting on and around a stack of crates, they watched him briefly, looking rather pissed off that their game was interrupted and moved to the hangar her odin resided in to do whatever that motion meant to them. Another short answer was given, the disinterest with all the noise around him was painted on his face in a moody scowl.
Preparation made for some sweet confidence at the moment, Hemlocke's concern for attention had caught Anna's eye. He probably had every reason to be concerned, considering no one could see her face and that they were both making ways to his chambers. Gossip was undoubtedly going to spread through the station like wildfire in a couple of minutes. Hopefully, it remained as words and nothing else.
I hope the rest of the station is as hospitable as you, especially if I turn up when you're not around.
Heinrich eyed the Rogues walking off through the lens of her helmet, they maintained eye contact until passing one another. A bunch of bandits, the image wasn't far from her first few days on Vogtland with her father.
The top of the stairs brought a view of a bazaar-type market with set ups lining the walls of the large central room, the offensive whirring of an exposed generator to keep all the lights on added to the discomfort upon Hemlocke's face, the yelling and crashing seemingly a normality for the station's tone. What was seemingly out of place on any other base was front and center on this one, the center portion of the room was caged off with scrap metal wires, observers and bets went on as a seemingly pit-fight style event was being held, in typical rogue fashion there weren't seemingly any rules to be spoken of here.
The man turned after briefly scanning the room drowned with noise, approaching a set of dual stone doors not far from the stairway they'd just arrived from, guards to either side of the wolf-jaw engraved doors eyed the armored woman closely during the approach, Hemlocke's scarred right arm lifted from its side to shove the right door open, the movement of the door was awkward as one would expect from such an unrealistic design choice, guessing by the man's rather basic attire, he wasn't one for flair in the first place. As the door became ajar just enough for him to pass through, he slipped by the doorway, waiting just long enough for Heinrich to clear the opening before the door would be shoved back into its resting position, and the noise from the outside was utterly silenced, bringing focus back to the off-set eyes.
The inside would prove just as pretentious in design as the doors themselves, a large circular room of stone, with stairs down from the doorway to either side following the curvature of the wall, a desk to the far side of the room with a singular chair behind, with two similar out to the desk's left side, a couch and smaller coffee table accompanying to the right. Some sort of small meeting place perhaps, as actual doors appeared to the East and West side of the circular room, leading off to other rooms themselves, the metal doors to those rooms looked blast resistant, implying anything of real importance was not stored here. And so the man's movement began once again after the brief moment of recollection of thought, walking down the small, almost pointless steps into the room itself, and across to the desk, where a black and unassuming metal box sat precisely center as if placed with special care. Rather than immediately sit down however, he turned upon reaching the desk, giving a very brief motion toward the front collection of seats, as if waiting for her to settle in, in some capacity.
The Sol expression "down to earth" was probably the best way to describe the room as Heinrich slowly walked through the doors to reveal Hemlocke's private getaway. Probably as good as you'd get out here. Heinrich thought to herself as she finished looking around; Hemlocke's gesture to Anna as she focused back on him gave her the impression they more than likely wouldn't be bothered.
Nice place.
She said before fitting with a switch under the jaw-line of her helmet. Air raced through the helmet suddenly as the neck seal blew up slightly; without hesitation, she pulled off the helmet and set it on one of the seats.
She looked almost entirely different since her departure from Wesibaden over a year ago. Her hair was a bit longer, still tied in a makeshift bun behind her head with thin strands of hair still hanging from the sides of her head. Scars that once distinguished her appearance were gone, near wholly healed. The only two things that remained the same were the color of her hair and eyes.
You're the first person to see my face since I "died" way back when. Think you can keep my livelihood a secret? I'll add it as another gesture in return for the guns you gave me.
Hemlocke was very familiar with Heinrichs armored flight suit, if he'd had a worse memory he'd had likely forgotten what she used to look like as he'd never seen it firsthand, only through imagery, and a rare occasion that had been. His crimson optic and human eye watched the hand fiddling with the jawline of the helmet, almost in anticipation, a curious look filling the unblinking hazel eye as he watched. His eyebrow slightly lifted at the lack of hesitation, which implied Heinrich was somewhat comfortable with the situation, he wondered if it was because they once flew a similar standard, or if it was because she trusted him for whatever reason. She wouldn't be here if she didn't, yet that didn't make it an any less jarring change of pace for Hemlocke, nobody trusted him, for good reason. And he trusted no one, yet here she was, seemingly without guard.
His eyes were focused on her face as it was revealed from behind the helmet, committing it to memory, she looked somewhat tired to him, which matched her overall demeanor thus far, though despite the aging stress and hell she'd been through, the youth hadn't left her complexion. The scars were gone, and he couldn't place whether she looked better with or without. Either way when Heinrich's lips opened to speak, telling him he'd been the first to see her face since she died, his head cocked slightly to the side as if confused.
Regardless of his captivation at the oddness of it all, he finally broke the awkwardly long silence, a neutral look on his face as he spoke, and despite those words probably sounding like a joke out of anyone else's mouth, it didn't sound like he was joking.
"I'm not one for advertisement."
His eyes moved off her to glance at the black metal box that was sitting on the larger desk next to him, to indicate there was something in it related to the question he asked next, before his eyes found their way back to her, and even though she was only slightly taller, they still had to angle up to hold eye contact. A fact that didn't seem to bother him.
"When was the last time you ate something other than rations?"