OOC: http://forum.chyoa.com/threads/a-tale-from-horizon-interest-ooc-sign-ups-now-pending.1052/ Dice-Roll Log: http://forum.chyoa.com/threads/a-tale-from-horizon-dice-roll-log.1069/#post-14966 ****************************************************************************** "Ladies and gentlemen, people of all intergalactic species. Allow me to present to you, Paradico's Queen of Retro Analog, Ms. Belleante!" A roar of applause and cheers could be heard within a live broadcast performance studio that was being broadcasted across the galaxy on the galactic net. It was a grand stage that was dappered up elegantly that would match even mid-tier Aravi Trade Princes. There was a background of the magnificent skyscrapers of Paradico with its impressive hovercraft traffic darting between the peaks of metal and glass. Coming onto the stage came a Craoker woman, this "Belleante". Of course she had given up her traditional name for something more fanciful, to impress the more numerous demographics of Humans and Grey that got into galactic music business. Craoker singers and musicians were one of a kind, after all. She was dressed richly yet practically so her moist skin didn't ruin it, she went to the center of the stage and waved to everyone as she went to the microphone stand. Smiling, she had said, "Thank you all for welcoming me, once again. I just came back from my tour to the Horizon world ship." Before she could finish, she was interrupted by another roar of applause and chuckled to herself, "Funnily enough, that was the reception I had there too. It was so grand and beautiful...it can't top Paradico's charm that's for sure. And it was there I realized something...forgetting how long they have been around now and how much influence they carry...I have never had the opportunity to be around Humans. Did you know long ago before they lost their home they sent a satellite with all these media pop-culture stuff of their early times to show aliens what Humans were all about?" There was a bit of chuckling in the audience but Belleante stopped them, "Now, now...it's not that silly. I find that beautiful, in a way. But I mention it because, guess what? We found that sattelite and I saw a few of the things in there myself while at Horizon. It opened my eyes, and my ears! I searched through all sorts of things Humans brought with them when they evacuated and found some beautiful music that even made me cry. You just can't beat the sweet, satisfaction of non-digital compositions. So I hope you all enjoy this number I picked out tonight. How about we hit it as I tell you, my fans, what always came to my mind when I think of my home and went to get away from my troubles? Enjoy, my fellow Paradisians!" ****************************************************************************** Paradico, one hell of a world-sized space station hanging on the edge of Fringe territory bodering Alliance space. Many are drawn to its appeal, like its some big diamond star in the sky just waiting to be taken. Asides from the world ship Horizon, it's one of the top visiting destinations in the galaxy filled with culture, riches, and every desire you can imagine. The PR for it is good, as some of the largest mega-corporations in Alliance and Fringe space make their home here and enjoy the safety it provides thanks to the Overlord Security Mainframe that keeps the law on the upper levels, where the rich thrive and live the good life. However, the privileged class on the upper levels are the only ones able to make it easy. Sure, they play their games of monopoly, corporations, and high-class politics. But they only make up ten to fifteen percent of the population that makes up Paradico. Once you go below the pearl encrusted gold and silver skyline, you enter the domain of the less savory...the dog-eat-dog underworld that scurries in the damp darkness beneath the light of the Olympus above. The Underworld of Paradico is a disgusting world where the oppression of the corporations are plain, and the suffering of the disenfranchised is maginified. Rejects from the experimentations of the above worlders trickle in to futher pollute the population, sometimes even citizens from down here would wind up missing for who knows what reasons. The Underworld is built atop mass piles of scrap, garbage, and lethal waste that are home to Zasarian and Nemura scavengers, using the abandoned factories as bases of operations. The streets of the Underworld are rife with gang warfare and organized criminal syndicates. It is not often you see the homeless and the drug-addled running from a fight from the fueding Goz and Canid gangs, or see a bar torched by the Grey Syndicate. This is the reality of Paradico. A tourist trap of a space station that claims all your credits and worth, then once you are used up, you either leave or wind up crushed beneath the heel of the wealthy. But, it's not all that bad admittedly...several individuals have made quite a living here, working for credits for some extra muscle or other "odd jobs" that need to be done. ****************************************************************************** The livestreamed event of Belleante's performance rang throughout all of Paradico, even in the Underworld. Sadly, no one could change any of the channels, as Belleante is one of the galaxy's biggest celebrities and she was a native Paradisian. Everyone was forced to hear it as it echoed in the air, through all the bars, in the mandatory broadcasting screens in the streets. Even at a very busy bar in one of the upper sections of the Underworld. This one was special for this occasion. The patrons were stiff and usnavory types, with pirates, bounty hunters, assassins, smugglers, and all sorts of other characters had found their way into it. It was a rather famous bar that people who did unsavory jobs would go to to get assignments and jobs. If they could make it here, they could make it anywhere. And even now, certain individuals had received a call from an anonymous employer to come to this specific bar. Even more so, they had to arrive at a certain time, at a certain booth. It would be a rather isolated booth at the far end of the bar. Who knows what these individuals would be offered? It is with these characters, that we allow our story to begin.
I enter the bar in a plain blue engineer coverall belted at the waist in a way that just happens to emphasize my shapely hips and round ass. The front is unzippered low enough that my pale pink bra is showing, along with a generous portion of my creamy white cleavage. Welding goggles hang around my neck, drawing more attention to my bust. I take a moment just inside the bar to take in the various characters, waitresses, marks, and dangerous types. My sidearm is hidden inside an engineer's carryall that attaches to my hip. I see the booth where we were told to meet and make my way over to have a seat. Looks like I'm the first one here. It seems secluded, but I still sit in a position facing the door in case anyone walks in looking for me. "Waitress," I call out. "Something cold and fizzy please. Not too strong."
Acuxe approaches the bar door with some trepidation. It was a given that one or more people in the bar would have automatic bounty computers. The last time he checked, the bounty for a male Camarian was in the league of a hundred thousand credits. And still, he needed the job, needed to keep moving. He'd been stuck on Paradico for the past three weeks, and he needed to keep moving, in case the PIO started to pick up the trail of their runaway. All there was to do was enter the bar, and hope that no one had DNA scanners to go with their bounty computers. The door creaked open as Acuxe pushed. There was no change in the conversations of the room, like there would have been in most other bars if a Camarian in full body armour with a submachine gun at his hip and a pair of swords over his shoulders. Not that they would have used the pronoun "he", Acuxe was androgynous even by the standards of the Camarian race. The mysterious man in the booth wasn’t here yet, it still being a few minutes before the appointed time, so Acuxe took a seat on the opposite side of the table to the engineer.
Seeing the slender Camarian take the seat across from me, I raise an eyebrow and sit up a little taller. I look at it as I sip my bubbly pink drink through a bendy straw. This Camarian looks like a tough cookie. It must be muscle. But is it a "he" or a "she"? Would that be rude to ask? I decide it would be an take another sip of my drink, looking away and out at the bar.
Max felt naked, and not in a fun way. He didn't normally frequent seedy bars on the wrong side of the tracks, but this wasn't a exactly a normal situation; this was orders. It wouldn't have been so bad if he was headed there in full armor, but this was a civilian zone, and he was supposed to try and keep a low profile. So he opted for combat boots, jeans, a tight t-shirt that made his physical fitness apparent, and a leather jacket. His only form of defense was his pistol, enclosed in its holster strapped to his thigh, and his knife resting on his belt. Those, and his psionic abilities. Still, his fingers gripped the handle of his gun by reflex, ready to draw it if needed as he pushed open the door to the bar with his other hand. Light inside was dim and Max silently cursed as his eyes took a moment to adjust. He scanned the room immediately as he entered casing the place for possible threats and his jaw clenched tighter as he noted that pretty much everyone in the joint would qualify. But none made a move, and in fact ignored him almost as soon as he stepped in. Letting out a silent breath he didn't realized he'd been holding, Max quietly made his way to the designated area, all the while scouting eyes that might be following him. When he arrived at the booth, he stopped dead in his tracks; one eyeful of the Camarian and he felt severely under-dressed. Two swords, a sub-machine and full armor would be nice to have right about now... but it was the redhead sitting across from the reptilian that really made Max pause. One look at her and his breath caught in his throat. Red hair, green eyes, and curves in all the right places... damn she hit every one of his buttons without even trying, and his cock twitched as a result. With a slow controlled breath, he thought to himself, "Inappropriate Max. You're on the job." and sat down.
Knowledge is its own reward son, his mother echoed in his mind But I want to see the galaxy too, Mom! I don't just want to come back here and be a colonial field medic, his younger self intoned. The heavy sigh she released rumbled through Drew's present form as well. One day son, you'll understand that, maybe, that kind of life ain't so bad... Drew couldn't help but to recite those fateful words to himself as he schlepped through the bar's bright and seedy entrance. Fuck, he was nervous. The phantom pains of his artificial arm complained louder than normal. He grumbled and thought, It's either this or not eating for a week. Shit, one would've thought being an intergalactic doctor with more field training than you could imagine would be enough, but no, fuck no, not for any legitimate post-- His preoccupied brain failed to sense the Grey that he had just bumped into, so when he looked up and saw pure fury staring right at him, he flinched painfully. The Grey gargled in a harrumph, then blissfully stepped away. Drew's heart pounded. Damnit all to hell. Situational awareness man. Ahead lay the designated booth, and already three figures lay in the shadows there. He rolled his eyes. Of course I'm late. He patted his simple sidearm underneath his long, pressed frock, then wandered toward the booth. His medkit clanked against the seat as he sat, temporarily preoccupied by it before noticing his companions. Particularly the Camarian. He blinked, rather shocked. It's not like there was a reason he shouldn't expect one, but the surprise placed him offguard slightly. He attempted to play it off naturally, swirling his frock in a more comfortable position. Clearly his other two compatriots were more reassuring, though the imposing leather-clad man to his left with combat boots seemed more military-like than he cared for, and the female engineer (he assumed anyway, from the coveralls) was... distracting in other ways, no matter how pleasantly. He sighed, and bowed his head without eye contact, waiting for an icebreaker.
"Water." Max ordered just as the door opened and a rather attractive man, if you were into dudes anyway, in a lab coat stumbled into the bar. The newcomer impacted with a Grey and then made his way to the booth. Max noticed the medkit at the man's side and thought 'Medkit and lab coat. Doctor?' before a second thought crossed his mind 'More likely narcotics stash. Dealer or user?' The new man stopped and bowed, then paused, clearly waiting for something. After an awkward moment Max said "Seat's yours I guess."
Drew looked up at Mr. Combat Boots and flashed a quick grin. "Yes, thank you." He coughed and lightly drummed the table, mustering the resolve to continue. "Well... I guess we should introduce ourselves?"
Win surveyed the tough guy, the heavily-armed Camarian, and the newcomer in his white labcoat. She leaned against the table, her breasts threatening the zipper of her coverall and caught the bendy straw with her full lips. She took a long sip of her fizzy drink, her green-eyed gaze taking in the two men and the androgynous Camarian. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she leaned even further into the table and said at a loud whisper to the Camarian, "I've gotta know, are you a boy or a girl?" She'd serviced both in her previous life and knew Camarians to be elegant and exciting lovers, even if their biology did not naturally excite her human desires. She realized the others had probably heard what she asked and quickly added, "Oh, the name's Win, by the way. Short for something, but that's not important now."
Before the conversation would be interrupted, the noise from the applause on the TV caused the entire bar to complain. It seemed the denizens really didn't care about the life and times of those in the overworld. Belleante had finished her song and said sweetly, "Thank you all! I love all of you. In fact, for this next piece...I think I'll explain how crazy in love I am with all of you. Hope you're ready." As Belleante did her next piece, a new figure would appear by the table. Looking it up and down, there was no mistaken what it was. Looking like a representation of a comely Human woman with pale skin, white hair, hazle eyes, and large bunny ears. She wore a rather interesting outfit that looked like a cross between a fetishized schoolgirl uniform and a stage magician's assistant outfit, matched with a bunny tail behind her. Her curves and tight, revealing outfit gave the engineer girl a run for her money. However, the combination of her eyes shwoing some slight signs of circuitry and the uncanny look of her face showed that she was an Android made to look like a cross of a Human and a Lepuran. A slight Asian look was upon her. The Android look between all members of the "party" and scanned each of them in turn. As she did so, she spoke in an affirmative tone. "Identity confirmation sequence. Confirmed, Winnifred Karisma, engineer. Confirmed, Maximilion Hatten, soldier. Confirmed, "Sister" Ezixosh, healer, ex-agent. Confirmed, Dr. Andrew Layson, medical doctor and xeno-anthropologist. Checking request registery...confirmed. All those requested to arrive are present. Thank you for answering the call on behalf of my masters. You may call me...Jia. I am here as a representative of the organization that has requested your presence here."
Win was impressed with the fuckbot's design, but not particularly interested in being solicited by it. She was about to shoo it away from the table when it began to speak. As it rattled off her name and the names of all the others she made a mental note of each. Sister was it? Guess Ezixosh was a girl after all. She shook her head and looked at Jia. "Hey, Jia. Pleasure. Are you gonna tell us why the organization that requested our presence here has requested our presence here?"
They were just right... there, and Drew just couldn't help but to stare. At least for a time. She asked some kind of question, possibly to the Camarian, but... but they were just there. "Confirmed, Dr. Andrew Layson, medical doctor and xeno-anthrolpologist," a voice said, and he saw another... extremely attractive woman standing next to the table. As she finished, Drew responded, "Well, I guess we know our names now." Win -- the engineer in dire need of a tailor... but not too soon of course -- asked the question on Drew's mind too.
The redhead was troubling Max in more ways than one. When he first laid eyes on her, her appearance caused something in the back of his mind to fire. He recognized her from somewhere, and he'd be damned if he knew where from. Her voice only compounded the issue, and with it he knew he'd seen her somewhere before but couldn't place when or where. The other thing that bothered him was her appearance, because she had him hard as a rock! Her tits nearly spilling out of her coveralls certainly didn't help that any, and he found himself struggling to avoid looking at them. This caused his glance to move over to the Camarian. Up until this point he... she? Max was grateful that this girl, Win, had asked her question as Max himself really wanted to know, had been nervously? scouting the bar when the booth was approached by an android who started listing their names. 'Shit!' Max thought to himself, 'Why the fuck would they submit my real name?' But then quickly calmed himself. 'Roll with the punches Max.' "Dr. Andrew Layson, medical doctor and..." the well crafted android rolled out and Max thought, 'Huh. Guess my first thought was right. Glad to know I won't be working with a junkie.' "Well, I guess we know our names now." The young doctor said. 'True. But I didn't really want you to know my real name.' Max scowled in his mind. "Hey, Jia. Pleasure. Are you gonna tell us why the organization that requested our presence here has requested our presence here?" The redhead, Win, asked. Max shook his head. 'Winnifred Karisma.' That name didn't ring any bells. This really was going to bug him. But she was on point.
Seeing that everyone was curious as to why they were here, Jia continued to inform them of the situation, "It is quiet simple, Winnifred Karisma. My masters have an important task that needs to be done and they are making the operation on a budget. A ship that will be for your use is already paid for and supplied, though it is only lent by masters for this one time use. And you will reimburse them should anything happens to the ship." Her magenta eyes flashed for a moment before returning to normal. Afterwards, at the exact same time, everyone's computers would notify them of a message. Upon opening the message, some information would flood onto their screens. "The target is a male Grey, middle aged, average height and weight. He use to work for my masters working in both their biology department. He had disagreements and fled to a colonial planet. In the ship provided, it should take you half a month to get there, save for any interruptions on the way. With him, he took a special chemical compound that has been engineered to help alleviate detriments of certain poisons and narcotics at higher effeciency rates. It is believed that if he is able to get into contact with any black market hands, he could be looking to a small fortune to use to disappear and live a good life." As they looked through the information, there is a picture of what the container of the compound look like. The android went on, "Since it is based off of most curative serums in design, Dr. Andrew Layson should be able to identify it. My masters do not care what you do to the theif, though they would prefer permenant solutions to be handed out. All they are interested in is the return of the proper compound." Then, everyone's computers would notify them again. But this time, they all would find themselves suddenly one thousand and five hundred credits richer, "That is for upfront pay. My masters insist that I make it clear that "no" is not an option. Out of a large pool of candidates, you four were chosen to be the most ideal. Upon return of the compound and news of the fate of the theif, you each will receive an additional two thousand and five hundred credits. Soon, your ship shall arrive and you will be notified of the hangar bay to report to. Are there any questions?"
Drew scratched his scruff as he examined the compound presented by Jia. He tapped a few controls, bringing up a 3D render of the compound's structure. "Huh, a hydrolase... clever, clever." Explains why I was contacted then, he mused. I think I'm the only freelance doctor that I know of. Well... one that graduated from med school anyway. "Should be easy once I get the sample," he replied to Jia, tapping the computer to standby -- which then immediately chirped at his share of the deposit. With a potential 2500 after. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Jia asked for comments, and one lingered uneasily in Drew's head. "So, when your 'masters' -- our employers -- would prefer the Grey have a 'permanant solution' meted to him, does that imply... anything specific?"
Win listened to Drew ask about specific outcomes for the grey toting the compound. She leaned her breasts against his shoulder to press closer to the android. In a lighthearted voice, she said, "I think what he's asking is whether or not we should blast him out an airlock or shoot him through a pillow." Win winked at Drew and leaned back in her seat.
Drew's grin grew to its full extent... as did something else down below, forcing his to shift his leg with a cough. He turned to Win -- and her assets -- and nodded his head as she slinked into her seat again. "Well, Winnifred, it doesn't hurt to clarify."
Max scrolled through the information on his computer looking for any sort of relevant information when the doctor asked his question. The question itself was uninteresting, what brought Max's attention back to the conversation rather quickly was when Win leaned against Dr. Layson, an act that allowed Max to get an outstanding view of her 'side-boob'. 'Lucky son-of-a-bitch' Max thought before immediately chiding himself. He was here to do a job, not get jealous of someone he just met. However, he did make a note that she didn't seem to have an issue with terminating their target. He'd have to watch out for this one. As far as the 'permanent solution' lab coat asked about, Max had other ideas. But he decided to keep that to himself, whatever this group decided, he had to at least look like he was game. He turned his attention back to the brief and stifled a frown. There was no information there about assistance for the Grey scientist. Did he have help getting off world? Was he in a fortified location? Who specifically was he trying to contact? Would they send support? Was he armed? How much resistance should they expect? Were they walking into a death trap? This android had given him virtually nothing that he needed, but that was hardly surprising, and she probably didn't have that kind of intel. Still, it was worth a shot. "I have a question about what kind of support this Grey has, and what we can expect when we get there."
Win knew teasing Drew had its intended effect. For a little extra goose she let her hand brush into his lap. Only a moment as her fingers grazed the lump and her attention seemed to be elsewhere. She was focused on the tough guy with the scars across the table. Max was his name. She watched him ask about the dangers the Grey would pose and she inwardly nodded at the astute question. When he glanced in her direction, Win gave Max a wink.
All it took was a wink and he could feel his blood pumping. 'Why the fuck did I have to turn chicken and sit over here?' he wondered. With a slow and subtle deep breath Max thought to himself 'Control, control. Mind over muscle. Remember your training. Control.' But that was always supposed to be for his psionic powers, and that education did little to suppress the raging hard-on in his pants. Still, the fundamentals were the same, and he struggled to make sure his body didn't betray him. He had to focus on what he was here to do; he had to think with his head, not his... other head. Even then, he liked to think that he was holding up better than the good doctor who was cursed (blessed?) to sit next to this succubus/sex nymph.
