Shasta Orbital Skyhook, Baffin System, Independent Worlds
The hangar doors of the Zoner base had closed behind his Sabre. He opens his cockpit and slowly climbs out of his ship. The engineers are there to greet him, friendly at first glance yet calculated at the second, like all Zoners. He greets them back with his head slightly lowered, he tries to hide his face. He gestures them to keep the ship prepared for launch at all time.
As he walks towards the corridor leading from the bay, he looks around quickly, to make sure no one is following him. No one suspicious, at least. There are lit up signs on the walls of the corridor, above the doors, indicating what was behind them. He was never aboard this station, his doubt in the Zoners keeping him away. This time however, he had no choice. Hunted by several groups, this band of calculated individuals and "neutralists", as they called themselves, was one of the few hiding places he had left. Even then he would perhaps not choose them, but the choice was not his, but that of the person he was about to meet. A person from his past long gone, someone who had annoyed him to no end, was now there to listen to him. He was close to laughing at how ironic this situation was.
After a few minutes of walk, he neared a door that said "Eris' Golden Lap", the bar that he was looking for. No guards were visible at the door, because after all, who would make trouble in that particular Zoner base? As he entered, a crowd of people stood before him. The bar was full. The first thing he does is look around for anyone that would want to harm him, he was good at noticing those kinds of people. He uses the crowd to hide, avoiding even the bartender, like a prisoner on the run. Yet, he was no prisoner.
Everything seemed clear of trouble, and now he just needed to find his contact. Suddenly he notices the person in question sitting in the private lounge, her back turned towards the crowd, no doubt to also avoid being recognized by everyone. But, who could miss her.
As he slowly reaches her, he puts his hand on her shoulder and sits down next to her while uttering:
"You know Silver, one of these days that hair of yours is going to get you killed. Those cocky habits of turning your back to people aren't helping either." he grinned slightly.
At first, she might have not even recognized him since her eyes widened, like that of a person surprised. After a moment of silence, he adds:
"You seem shocked. Haven't seen you in a while doll. Did you bring the drink? I have much to say..."
"I am more shocked you don't even recognize my face properly.
Only my hair color. Assumptions are the mother of all frack ups, don't you know?"
He heard behind him as a hand, much like his own, was placed on his shoulder.
The woman, covered in a black gown, removed the hood and the bright orange hair that was the trademark of Silver, glinted against the light.
The woman that was sitting at the side of Will, now with almost vacant face,
lifted herself up, bowed to her and left, locking the door.
Silver slowly removed the gloves she was wearing, pulled a bottle of Gin of her gown and placed it on the coffee table.
"You can get the glasses can't you, Will?"
Her voiced whispered, almost has teasing him.
[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
He smiled slightly, as if he knew what was going to happen, yet was too ignorant or cocky to see. His attitude had gotten him into trouble in the past, and he never learned. He immediately took the bottle and poured two massive gulps into his throat, almost spilling it while doing so. He took a quick breath and placed the bottle back on the table, whilst looking at Silver.
"Heh, pardon me doll, like I said, I haven't had a good drink in a while." he leaned back into the chair, as if he felt more relaxed now.
"You know, now that I look at it, your hair really is brighter than the one on that clown bodyguard double. It suits you, kind of. Looks like you really did grown more cautious in time, with the bodyguards and all. And the name is Tobin, Tobin Frost. The other one is too dangerous, if you know what I mean."
Tobin quickly glanced at the bottle again and added.
Tobin reached with his hand over Silver to get to the intercom. As he was halfway there he noticed Silver looking at him strangely.
"Don't worry doll, that hair is a turn-off for me."
He pushed the intercom button and yelled:
"YO, make that two bottles!"
Silver was still staring at him, probably thinking that coming here was the dumbest idea of her life. Tobin looked at her again.
"I told you, I'm thirsty. Oh and, I hope you're paying."
He reclined in his seat again with a slight grin on his face. The next part was tricky. Namely, convincing Silver into doing something he wanted. Then again, the only thing he had to lose was his life, which was worth a lot to anyone and everyone except himself. What could go wrong, right? "What I want? Work."
Tobin shrugged off the two bottle comment as if he had not heard it. He could have sworn Silver ordered only one, but then again, he didn't drink in a really -long- time.
He yawned shortly.
"Oh please, cut the crap with that 'color' argument. I'm aware that you don't like people talking bad about those new baboons you got that call themselves Colors, but really now. You're here because you want to be here, not because of some cliche tradition that's keeping you here."
He leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice.
"Now, ever since I left that God that group that you -still- call 'The Reavers', things have been going bad. I made a lot of enemies in my time, for which I partly blame Carmine by the way, and I lost the only group that was my safe haven from them. I was running for my life every day for almost a year whilst your baboons were living in luxury, a luxury that you can thank -me- for, partly."
He leaned back into his seat and sighed.
"Alas, I had to change a lot about me, which surprisingly made my already sharp edge even sharper. So you might as well shove the 'Stable' comment up your ass, bitch. Now that we got that out of the way, here are your options. Yes, you heard me, options."
Tobin started talking in a more rigid and tired voice. Making deals like this one and the suspense that comes with them were tiring for him. He wasn't the young, cocky, gullible individual he used to be. Now he was just cocky, and rightfully so.
"Option one: You can drink up the remainder of this bottle with me, give me some guns for my ship, the guns that the Reavers owe me for bringing all those heads to their table, and walk away. You will never see me or hear of me again and you will happily continue to live on that throne of yours."
"Option two: Well, this one is a bit more tricky. You drink up the remainder of this bottle with me, give me quality guns and a drop of blood onto this..."
He pulled out an unused napkin out of his coat pocket along with a small knife and put them both onto the table.
"...Yes, you heard me, blood. Your own. The knife is right there. You can call me old fashioned and laugh at me, but its just something I picked up from some of my friends over in the Edge Worlds. The 'Death Contract' they call it. Now, I could go into detail what would happen if this contract was to be broken, but I don't quite have enough time or the charisma to impose its meaning onto you in a way that I should, or in a way in which it was imposed onto me."
Tobin leaned back into his chair and crossed his hands in relaxation.
"Before you do anything, hear me out. You have enemies I imagine. Not any kind of enemy, an influential kind of enemy. An individual or a couple of them, that make your life hard. It isn't cost effective to send your baboons after them, since well, they wouldn't do anything because they are too obvious and in the end, it would just be a giant time waste. I, on the other hand, could take care of such problems. You, in return, would give me shelter when I needed it. Of course, I would get payed for my work. And don't think I will accept small time payments like the ones you give to your so called 'Colors'. I'm expensive, you know this."
"When I eliminate your given target, I would be given another, when you find one that is. Eliminating your designated targets would take time, I presume. Luckily, time is all I have left."
He paused for a bit and waited for Silver to soak up all of that information. He imagined she would be surprised by his proposition. In the meantime, he took another sip from the bottle.
Silver smiled. And suddenly grabbed the empty gin bottle and smashed with all her strength against Tobin's face.
While he was recoiling from the sudden impact and feeling his head bursting, she threw the broken tip of the bottle away and punched him several times in the face.
Blood poured from cuts and busted teeth.
As she finally stopped, she picked up one of Tobin's teeth, grabbed his hair and pressed the sharp broken tooth against his throat.
"I told you.. That i would rip your frickin' throat off with your own teeth."
Silver growled. And then released him. All the colors in the rainbow were going through his head now.
Disorientation was the norm.
Pain was the reality.
And that voice sounded just like death.
"And throne? Once again? This throne you call, it's a frickin' busted cockpit in the Omegas. In Gamma. In Bretonia. In the effin' Taus. Killin' as we plow through the blasted firestorms that are thrown our way."
Tobin was finally 'waking' up from the beating.
Silver stood up and grabbed the knife, pacing herself around the room.
"Learn respect, you sorry excuse of a hunter. Then you'll get some."
Her eyes screamed bloody murder.
[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
As his head finally stopped spinning, he leaned forward in his chair again, spitting out his tooth and some extra blood. He started laughing silently, as he was going crazy. He spouted the blood out through his silent laughter.
"I like a woman with a punch. That tooth wasn't that much worth anyway."
He stood up and walked to silver. His steps those of a tired man, and not just because of the beating. As she turned to him in her pace, he pressed her up against the wall and grabbed her hand, the one with the knife in it. He pressed the knife up against his throat while Silver was still holding it, looked her in the eyes and slowly said.
"Do you really think I'm scared of Death? I have been living on the verge of death for the past several years. Running, hiding, killing innocent people that didn't even know why they were sent to find my ship. So please, you want to see me dead? Slit it right here..."
He pressed her hand harder, the knife slightly cutting into his throat, a drop of blood slowly flowing downwards from the cut.
"...and end this misery. You would only be doing me a favor."