|A night On The Landing Pad|
|Summary:||Two Martians stand talking about life in general, and asperations. That's until two local gangs decide to bring a peice of local Tomin Kora hospitality.|
Landing Field <Shadowheart: Tomin Kora>
- Shadowheart Once upon a time, a crimelord named Boss Cabrerra built the domed city of Shadowheart. Starships entered through a series of atmospheric locks in the upper hemisphere of the dome and landed atop a framework structure called the landing aerie. Visitors would then ride Cabrerra Industries shuttles from the aerie to the spaceport. More than 1,000 feet tall, the aerie was the tallest structure within the cityscape. And then, in the year 3004, the domed city fell into disarray with the spread of the Nexus Curse plague and the destruction of Cabrerra Industries. The landing aerie toppled in an explosion after the destruction of Majordomo Grim - the right hand of the Kamir. A 100 yard by 100 yard square patch of dusty ground has been cleared in the wreckage of the fallen aerie to create a makeshift landing field. Vessels that remain landed for any length of time are often guarded by crew. Occasionally, the guards come under attack by pirates, brigands or just plain desperate people trying to get offworld with their ships.
The nebula above glows a vibrant violet-blue as the white dwarf star Tomin glows in the sky.
Lucius stands near the cockpit of the Shade of Gray, evidently having recently done a checkover of the ship. All looks good from the outside, with security systems being secure. Now, the Martian peers out to the ruins of Shadowheart. And there it is, smoking craters, gunfire in the distance and a general ambience of violence in the air. Great to be home.
The airlock on the Jackal cycles open, and Malion steps forth from the depths. He looks like he's kitted up for war, with a Kevlar vest seem peeking out from under his armour, one of those DS Equality pistols hanging from a hip holster, a pink sniper rifle hanging from a shoulder. The Gunsmith doesn't look to happy about something, most likely the sniper rifle he's manage to snag from the Jackal's Armoury.
The sound of a hatch opening would easily catch anyone's attention on the almost deserted landing pad. As it is, Lucius's helmet can be seen turning to the side, and he moves to face the Jackal. "Afternoon, fellator."
"What the fuck ya say mate?" Malion asks, as he stops on the boarding ramp and cocks his head to one side. "Ya better not be calling me gay."
"A Martian who doesn't speak Latin. Learn the language, man!" Lucius says back, moving towards the other armoured man. "You heard it right here, boy! That's exactly what I was calling you. I mean, what else would you be doing with that beast," a finger reaches out to point at Mal's sniper rifle, "besides shooting men in the head and stealing their mentulae!"
Malion gives a slight shrug. "All that I've got access to," he replies, not looking to impressed. "Think of it more as a potential embarrassment of any bastard who finds himself court in the crosshairs of a bloke who's willing to use a pink sniper rifle to take them down." He pauses for a moment. "Ya imagine what the bastards would thinking... 'Oi look boys, he's got himself one of those pink sniper..." Malion attempts to emulate an exploding skull with his fingers. "Bang... No more pain in the arse and I've got meself the third kill."
"Don't be so quick to tally up your kills, Mal. You'll get to the point where you don't even want to know how many you've done in even quicker like that." Lucius returns the man's shrug. "So, what's the idea here? Here only for the quarry?"
"I don't fucking know," Malion replies, furrowing his brow. "I had to catch one of those dodgy shuttles in, I'm out of the loop as much as you are."
"I'm still quite pissed that we were forced to go through that fucking station up there for no reason." Lucius motions to the sky, and hence, the Tomin Nebula. "I guess we all thought with our wallets."
Malion shudders, and shakes his head. "Got a mate who wants that place gone," he replies, looking to the ground. "I gave me report to a bloke in power, reason I ain't been 'round the last few days. HenchCorp, Vorra Sect, bloody thing plays like on of those laughable conspiracy holovid specials." He sighs loudly, as he looks upwards. "I'm gonna make them pay for throwing away lives like that."
"Good. They all fucking deserve it, that's forsure. Barlov too. Like I said before, I see him again and I'm going to fucking kill him. I don't know how.. it might have to be subtle. But I'd prefer to go boom and splatter his brains on the pavement." Lucius pauses to consider. "Maybe after extorting him for whatever resources he's got."
Malion chuckles, lowering his head to look back across to Lucius. "Sounds like a plan," he says in reply. A moment passes of silence, well from Malion anyway, TK is still making its usual noises. The Gunsmith motions across to the Shining Albatross. "Ya know much 'bout that thing mate?"
"It was there when I last left. Doesn't look like it's been sitting here the entire time, though I could be wrong. I think I saw a few of the crewmembers in the Warren back in the day, but honestly.. no idea. I wouldn't touch it if I were you." Lucius flashes a wicked grin. "Ships on TeeKay are usually built with pretty menacing security devices."
Malion shakes his head. "No intentions... Just know one of the crew," he replies with a smile. Malion looks a bit jumpy at the moment, casting a nervous glance across to the ruins. "Suppose ya'd get used to the place."
"I don't want to get used to this place again. It's twenty four seven war with no fucking purpose besides personal enrichment. Plus, it's not like it's even a nice place to live. I can do pretty much what I want on New Luna," muses Lucius, "with the same lack of penalties, except kill of course, without any repercutions. Plus, New Luna's got a beautiful climate, lotta resources, beautiful women.. I mean, what can I complain about?"
Malion breaks his attention away from the ruin and looks back to the other Martian. "Not much, least ya don't hafta be paranoid there."
"I wouldn't go that far. Depends on what segment of society we're talking about." Still, Lucius gives a nod at Malion's assertation, smiling. "But here you gotta be looking behind your back at all times. With an assault rifle."
"I don't like this place," Malion replies, airing his annoyance. "Should have just tried to catch up with the Officals I needed to see on New Luna... Ya think HenchCorp's gonna make an appearence one day and attempt to knock off the witnesses of the factory?"
"I wish we had some sort of video evidence or some shit. Jack better keep that data safe somewhere so he can hand it off to a government.. OATO, maybe, although the Sivadians are probably more concerned with taking five o'clock tea. I know for a fact the Republic doesn't give a shit, sorry bunch of assholes they are." Lucius shrugs. "Still, lotta witnesses to take care of. Lotta well armed ones."
"Demaria is already been informed," Malion states, looking over his shoulder to a noise in the distance. "The Battleclaw's a good mate of mine, and believed the story. I needa to talk to Jack, see if he'll give them the information."
"I think that Demaria is probably the best hope when it comes to dealing with something like this. Got that shadow-fleet and everything." Notes Lucius. He begins to scan the landing pad oncemore, biting down on his lower lip, a nervous habit he aquired here.
Malion's hand moves towards his holster. "See something?" he enquires, looking back to Lucius. "Fuck... Don't know how ya bloody stood this place."
"Not sure. Don't think so.. the landing pad is usually pretty safe, anyways. When compared to the actual city itself, where someone can be hiding in any one building in any one window around you. Or in the wrecks, or alleyways.." The man trails off, slinging his FNC off of his back and clicking the safety off.. just to be certain. "Except that one time I caught this rat bastard mugging and then killing some poor old guy. Old guy didn't even have anything to mug." Regardless of his storytelling, Lucius remains tense.
Malion follows Lucius' lead and slips the pretty pink sniper rifle from his shoulder, brining it into a ready position. He moves his hand in a way that he chambers a round. "Bloody brutal... Wouldn't expect that many reach old age down here."
"Shadowheart's only been around for six or seven years, anyways. He definately didn't grow up here. He probably lost anything he had here, before he lost his life." Lucius scowls at the sight of Malion's sniper rifle. "Pater Martius, can you please fucking paint that rifle another colour? I could see you a mile away!"
Malion chuckles. "Nokem," he replies, with a grin. "Itkim notkem mine." He pauses for a moment, offering only a smile. "Pigeon from the Pacific Rim, me adopted old man taught me it."
"Should learn Latin instead. The area that speaks it still exists, ya know. Though I'm sure there's thousands of now dead languages that only a few people speak." Lucius's little ponderings are interrupted by a russle in the junkfields near the outside of the field. He drops to a knee and lifts his rifle to his shoulder, glancing about quickly.
"Ah fuck," Malion says, as he quickly moves down the Jackal's boarding ramp to an area of land that offers more defensive worth. Sniper rifle, regardless of the colour, still held tightly in his grip. "What we got?'
"I told you - " Comes Lucius's voices, strained and slightly annoyed, "I don't know." That seems to be the long and short of it, for now. The piles of junk and scrap metal create an excellent field of cover.
Several moments of scanning pproduce nothing, though, until another sound is heard - now, though it is quite a bit further from the Jackal's position on the pad. And guess what that sound is? Gunfire.
The crack of a .40 pistol round sounds out. It is not, however, aimed at the two Martians or their two ships. A moment later, more shots ring out in answer, their source still veiled from sight.
Malion drops to one knee, bringing the sniper rifle up in the direction of the gunfire. The barrel isn't directly pointed, but is rather on an incline, the flash suppressor pointing at the ground. The Gunsmith slowly slides the safety off with a thumb, until a satisfying click is heard. "Fuck it," he grumbles, as he narrows his eyes to look in the direction. Oh yeah, he's made sure to allow himself a free passage of fire, making sure Lucius is safetly out of the LOF of the pretty sniper rifle.
Finally, after a minute or two of gunfire, three men dressed in an assortment of different clothing, but all with a green patch on their shoulders dart from the visual cover which was obscuring view for Malion and Lucius before. They try to make as many zigzag moves as possible, making sure they absolutely do not beeline for their target, a small, worn looking wreck of a ship. As tracers fly by, one of the running men is hit and although it looks painful, he staggers on behind the cover. Now, a new group of men armed similarly, pistols and shotguns, moves out of their concealment to find their own cover.
Lucius and Mal remain un-noticed for the moment, the former trying to use the Jackal as cover in the most efficient manner possible while remaing up. "So," He says in a low voice as the gunbattle rages on inconclusively, "here's a few choices. Stay and watch, shoot the green dudes or shoot the other dudes. I reckon that if we take out one group the others are gonna probably shoot at us. I vote for watching it. It looks like Sewer Rats versus Rafters."
Malion nods in agreement with Lucius, keeping his cool, after all this isn't the first time he's been in a place that has gone to hell in a hand basket. "Stay and watch, they try and board the Jackal we pounce," he replies, his voice being barely a whisper. Slowly Malion tracks the one that is attempting to use the Jackal as a sheild. "Ya the expert though."
"Don't really feel like getting involved, to be honest." Still, if one is interested in maitaining a living status on Tomin Kora it is never a good idea to relax, and this is one thing that Lucius doesn't do. His rifle remains trained on the group of Rats, finger stroking the trigger, a glimmer in his eyes, as if he is tempted to shoot. He keeps restraint.
Meanwhile, the battle is not going well for the 'opposite', or non-green side. One of their fighters, intending to flank the green position, caught a shotgun shell in the chest. Although most of the blow was deflected by the vest he wears, about a quarter of the buckshot didn't actually hit his chest and instead is lodged in his throat. Blood spurts from the wound as he flails around, unable to breath and slowly being drowned in his own fluids. He is left to die on hs own as the fight continues.
Malion looks towards the sound of the shotgun fire, only to be reward with the view of the man going down with a spurt of blood. The gunsmith moves his finger inside of the trigger guard, and quickly glances to the targets in range of his rifle. He selects the most dangerous, but doesn't raise the pretty pink rifle of death to point at him just yet. "Agree with ya there," Malion replies, still using his quiet tone.
There is a sort of wheezing or hissing noise coming from the dying man, as he tries to futilely take the buckshot out of his throat. Too bad he's already damaged beyond repair. Now, though, something unexpected happens. In the middle of the exchange of fire, one of the Rafters pulls out what looks like a homemade grenade and tosses over his cover, arcing through the air... and guess where it lands? On the right side of the Rats' cover. The man closest to the grenade's eyes widen.
In that in between moment, Lucius has now decided to select his own target. He remains quiet, shoulders falling a bit as he sees the grenade. "This is gonna be messy."
Malion notices the grenade soaring through the air, he can't but help follow it's trajectory. He squeezes the grip on the rifle slightly as he waits for the impending explosion, unless of course that the grenade is a dud. "Poor bugger," he mutters.
That Rat makes a valiant decision, one that might have had him memorized in song and awarded a posthumous valour award had he been elsewhere. But this is Tomin Kora, and no one except for his friends here, his enemies, Malion and Lucius will know about his sacrifice - he jumps onto the grenade, taking the explosion with a sickening crunch. The incenerated body smokes, but his friends are relieved. And engraged, certainly. "MOTHER FUCKERS!" One yells out, and, under cover of shotgun fire, succesfully completes the flanking move which his enemies were unable to, finding some cover. Now, the two Rafters are boxed in. It is only a matter of closing the trap, but for now, the gunfire continues without conclusion.
The Hesperian remains motionless, except for a slight adjustment of his sights.
Malion winces and looks away from the grim specticle. He too remains silent, before forcing himself to open his eyes once more. The rifle's barrel is grasped tighter than ever, and a quick check reminds him that he's still got a chambered round.
With the same *CLACK* of a .40 pistol round, the battle is ended as a headshot is delivered by the flanking Rat. The other Rafter, aware that he is outnumbered and lacking any substancial armament besides a revolver, tosses down his pitiful weapon and raises his hands up. "I surrender!" The scowling figures of both Rats approach the surrendered man, guns up, wary.
Lucius shakes his head as the battle appears to be over. "See what I mean?" He whispers to Mal.
"I see," Malion replies in an equally hushed tone, watching the two Rats approaching the surrendered party. "They gonna knock him off?"
Lucius shrugs his shoulders as best as he can, finally becoming a bit more relaxed. His ice blue eyes are glued on the events.
"You surrender, huh? You fucking surrender? Like when your friend over there," a .40 pistol is pointed at the corpse's split open head, "threw a fucking grenade and ours surrendered HIS life?" The shotgun wieldling Rat presses the barrel of his weapon to the captive's head. "Naw man, be easy. Let's have some fun with him. Get up." Obediently, the Rafter gets up. Slowly, they start to walk away, careful to collect all weapons and ammo first. They've soon dissapeared behind the junkpile.
The Gunsmith doesn't release his tight grip of the weapon, he just continues to watch the events in silence.
"Let's get the fuck back on the ship." Says Lucius and without waiting, rises up appropriately. Gun still clutched in his hands he backs up towards the ship's ramp, slowly and carefully.
Malion nods in agreement, and slowly rises. Cautiously he backs towards the boarding ramp, keeping an eye out for any more possibile hostility. "Can't believe people love this place," he grumbles.
"I don't know a soul who does." Replies Lucius icily, opening the hatch and entering. He slings his rifle.