|A Tale of Two Jackals? Part 2|
|Summary:||Armed with new information, the Jackal and Faux crews seek out the Hyena on Castor.|
|Cast:||Ace, Barry, Swiftfoot, Solace, Torr|
Part 3 of a series.
Previous part: A Tale Of Two Jackals
Next part: Tomin Kora Standoff
Warning: Contains Vulgarity
|Crew Quarters <IND Jackal>|
The narrow passage opens up into a small wardroom. This space is ingeniously outfitted; its furniture and surfaces configured to serve either under nominal local gravity conditions, or that provided by the freighter's acceleration. Flanking the wardroom are a set of personal bunk modules containing a bed with built-in cabinetry, storage lockers, and privacy screens. Forward, a compact efficiency kitchen is located starboard, while to the portside is a small refresher unit. Between the two we find a little fitness space with a punching bag and workout center and a cozy niche with a fold-out sleeper couch and holoviewer.
|Gentle light flows down from coves recessed into the dorsal and side wall framing, softly illuminating the room. Its deckplates are sturdy and diamond-gridded and provide a tough, rugged utilitarian feel, but what really completes the atmosphere is the bold, stylized jackal's head painted in fiery scarlet with bold, confident strokes on the hatches leading fore and aft.
Looks like someone's made their return, and the someone is Barry. "Fuckin' bitch," he grumbles from inside Solace's bunk, which has the privacy screen closed. "I can't believe she left me here like this just so I don't do a runner 'gain. Fuckin' paranoid" There comes a moment of silence before he calls out. "Oi, anyone of ya fuckin' clusterfucks got a fuckin' key or bolt cutters or something?!"
"Fuckin' kinky bastard," Torr mutters as he hears the noise from the direction of Solace's bunk. Torr sits at the card table/centerpiece of the room, cigarette smoking slowly in the ashtray in front of him. He lifts it, glancing toward the bunk.
Solace, however, is seeming rather cheerful as she enters from the direction of engineering, the kitten riding on her shoulder. A few traces of grease spatter her cheeks, and she has her PDA in hand. "Hiya, Boss!" She says pleasantly, heading for the fridge.
"... Torr? Get some fuckin' bolt cutters or find the key," Barry calls out in reply to Torr's voice. "Just get me outta 'ere 'fore she comes ba...." The voice from behind the privacy screen trails off into a mutter as he hears Solace's voice. "She's back, ain't she?" A moments silence passes. "Sol, babe... Ya got the key? Com'on, let me out. I'm sorry!"
"Rough night with that fucker over there?" Torr nods toward the bunk and the noises emitting from it as he speaks. He flicks a little ash from the end of the cigarette and snickers. "Fuck, no way I'm comin' over there. I don't know what the fuck is behind that fuckin' privacy screen. Don't need to see that shit."
"Maybe next time he won't fuckin' run off without tellin' me." Solace says, then raises her voice a little. "Right, Maly?" She snags a bottle of water from the fridge, then digs in a pocket and comes up with a key. "It'll stick now, won't it?"
"... Yes," Barry replies, from inside the bunk. He sounds pretty much defeated about now, and then comes the rattling of chain as he assumedly struggles. "I ain't gonna run off with out tellin' ya again Sol. Please, just let me out, my fuckin' arms have cramped up and I can't feel my hands."
"Let him out, huh?" Torr rolls his eyes a little then finally raises the cigarette to his lips. He takes a long drag, then speaks once more. "Fuckin' sick of his whiney ass complaining. Heard enough of that bullshit. Why'd you run off, anyway?"
Solace moves over to the bunk and opens the screen wide enough so she can get to the handcuffs, without showing Torr anything he doesn't want to see. A click, and one comes off, and she reaches over to do the other, Blackjack jumping off her shoulder to say hello to Malion.
A grunt of discomfort comes when Barry lowers his arms from where they where secured by the cuffs. "Thanks babe," he says, rather quietly. He uses his left hand to start rubbing the wrist of his right, whilst trying to make a fuss of the kitten. "I'm not ever gonna do the bolt on ya 'gain... Promise... 'Sides, that cybernetic hand hurts too much." He doesn't go into any depth there, leaving it only up to the imagination. There comes a moment's silence before he responds to Torr. "I went to see me old man... And Uncle Acheros."
Torr snorts a little at this and nods. "Yeah, figured you were doin' some shady shit like that." He shakes his head a little and crushes the cigarette into the ashtray. He pushes away from the table and moves toward the kitchenette, making his way to the fridge.
Solace just grins and reaches down to grab Barry's pants and toss them to him before she moves for the couch and flops down on it, opening her water. "Payback's a bitch, babe, didn't I tell you?" She takes a swig of her bottle, and stretches. "Hey, boss, how long we gonna be here, huh?"
Payback? Bloody fuckin' torture! It looks like Barry's spend too much time around Demarians, especially with his grumbling. "Yes Sol," he replies, sounding defeated once more as his hand reaches out of the bunk to grab his trousers through the crack. With no more questions being raised, he doesn't go into anymore depth.
Torr nods a little as he peers into the fridge, ignoring Barry's outburst. He pulls out a bottle. No folks, it is not alcohol. Looks to be water. He unscrews the top and takes a sip from it. "So what sorta shit ya dig up there, huh Bigman? Can't fuckin' run off like that and not have any shit to report."
Solace holds her peace for the moment, just waiting to hear what's said, though her face goes a little tense. She recaps her bottle and fiddles idly with it, eyes going back over to the bunk.
"It's me Uncle's ship," Barry replies, rather quietly and sounding slightly ashamed. "Just don't know why he'd be doin' it... Maybe ya've pissed him off in the past." He takes a deep breath, and then sighs. The sound of mvement can be heard as he assumedly pulls his pants on behind the privacy screen. "He says he ain't tryin' to kill us... Could be a different ship with the markin's, perhaps?"
Torr snorts at this. "Oh yeah? Where that fucks your uncle now, huh?" He frowns a little at this, taking another long sip from the water. "Because I'd /love/ to have a little chat with the fuck."
"Didn't ya say he rented it out to someone?" Solace asks hopefully, glancing over. She shrugs her shoulders, then falls silent again.
The privacy screen on Solace's bunk slides open, and Barry gets out and then slowly stands up, giving a wince at the motions. His wrists are bruised, his back looks like it might be bruised, and it could be assumed that other parts of his body are bruised also... Beware the wrath of Solace! But at least his wounds are healing up pretty good. "Yeah... He's leased out the contract to someone. Ain't too sure who, and he didn't say," he replies quietly to both of them. He appears to have avoided answering Torr's question.
Torr nods a little to this. "Uhuh. So it could be that fuckin' ship, just some other fucker flying it, huh." He shakes his head a little bit and then takes another sip. "What the fucks he know about that shit?"
Solace grins faintly, but doesn't say anything. She holds out a hand for the kitten as she wanders over to her, and deposits Blackjack in her lap to be petted.
With the potential threat of another beating later on from Solace, Barry replies with a shrug. "I found out that'll be touchin' down 'ere for a cargo run... All he really told me," the bruised ex-prisoner of Solace replies. He's bruised up, his back's bruised, most likely other parts of his body are bruised, and his wrists are bruised, too. Torr's currently sitting at the card table/conferance table with a cigarette and bottle of something that isn't alcohol. Solace, she's grinning faintly and kicking, chillin' on the futon with Blackjack. And no, no one's wearing leather or dressed in gimp suits.
Torr nods a little bit and takes another sip of the water. "Oh yeah?" Torr frowns a little, then nods. "Good. Lets fuckin' see if we can give them a nice hello, huh?" He shakes his head. "Fuckers. How the fuck did she kick your ass so bad?"
"He liked it." Solace replies breezily, the snickers softly and takes another swig of her water, offering a little bit in her palm to the kitten. "Here ya go, Jackie."
"Ya can't fight back... When yer handcuffed to the bunk," Barry quietly comments, looking extremely embarrassed. He slowly slinks over towards his own locker, and then starts to search through it. "Didn't really have much of a choice..." He glances out the corner of his eye towards Solace.
The forward hatch opens with a hiss, admitting Swiftfoot to the crew quarters. She offers a wave of one paw and a flick of her tail, then stops dead when she sees Barry on the couch. "Wha...?" she starts to inquire, head tilting slightly to the side. At the sound of the partial explanation, she puts a paw to her muzzle, stifling a laugh.
"Sure ya can," Torr replies, then snorts. He glances toward the forward hatch and nods to the Demarian. "Meowmix. Turns out Horatio knows the fuckin' owner of the Hyena. How 'bout that shit."
Solace doesn't even have the grace to look embarassed. In fact, she looks nothing if not pleased with herself. "Heya, mom." Solace says with a wave, then goes back to scratching behind the demanding kitten's ears.
Great, yet another crew member to share in this interesting development that Barry got himself into. If he could fit inside the locker and lock it, he most likely would. His shoulders slump, and he looks towards the decking as he pulls out any old shirt. No comment, no reply, just silence from the adopted Horatio.
The Demarian seems to let the newest amusement go as soon as she picked it up. Whether she's unwilling to humiliate the faux-Sivadian any more, or she's just lost interest, is still up for debate. Either way, her gaze goes to Sol long enough to offer a wink and a wave of her paw, then to Torr for a moment. "Meh? Oh, no, don't tell me..." Swiftfoot trails off, her expression slightly pained as she looks back to Barry. "Is it...?"
Torr takes another sip then nods. "Yeah its his goddamn uncle. Should have a chat with 'im, eh?" The martian shakes his head. "I'm goin' take care of someshit. Be back." He heads for the refresher.
Solace starts to look a little apologetic, at least from Barry's reaction. "Babe, c'mere." She coaxes, holding out a hand. She doesn't apologise, of course. Let's not go crazy.
"He's gonna go try and find his dick," Barry replies, trying to find his old sense of humour. "My Uncle owns it... But he's leased it out, but didn't say to who." He reaches in, withdrawing his holster with his usually concealed weapons. "If anyone attempts to touch me fuckin' Uncle... I'll kill them meself." He's deadly serious about this, but he does head towards Solace. "If it's him... I'm gonna be the one to kill him. Keep it in the family." He drops down onto the futon beside Solace, putting his arm around her. "It's... Just fuckin... All fucked up."
"Fuck, I'm sorry, Mal," Swiftfoot says, her eyes closing as she shakes her head. She heaves a sigh, then heads toward the kitchen, stopping to rummage around briefly in the fridge. The felinoid comes up with a bottle in one paw, twisting the top off of it, her expression carefully neutral as she looks back toward the rest of the crew. The only thing that gives her away is the faintly irritable way her tail flicks to and fro. One might just think she was at a loss for words.
"We'll figure it out." Solace says with assurance. "If his ship gets fucked up, he should be repayed anyway cause it's on lease, so if we just kill the fuckers, no need to involve him, right?" She shrugs one shoulder, tugging on the kitten's tail as she tries to move over to Barry's lap.
Barry glances down towards the decking, and slowly shakes his head. "Just fuckin' bullshit," he grumbles, seeming pretty hang dog. "Mean... What if it is him... Working with the Son's of Mars?" He takes a deep breath, and then sighs. "Mean... We're all pretty much targets if he is."
Torr snorts a little bit as he exits from the bathroom. "We're jackin' the fuckin' ship and everything on it," he remarks as he steps out from the bathroom. A fresh cigarette is lit up between his lips.
Swiftfoot remains silent for a moment, one ear canted thoughtfully to the side. "Maybe he doesn't know what's going on at all. If it turrns out he does... well, we'll just have to figurre out what to do about it." The Demarian shrugs vaguely. "Even if it is him, he must not know you'rre on this crrew, else he'd not be afterr us, meh? Unless he's got something against you orr something? I dunno..." The orange-furred felinoid shrugs vaguely and takes a pull from the bottle in her paw.
"People are crazy." Solace says, then shrugs helplessly, taking another swig of her water and offering it to Barry. "I don't think we're gonna know what to do until we're actually doin' it, yeah?"
A cold hard glare is directed towards Torr. "That's yer fuckin' solution for everythin', ain't it?" he states, shaking his head, and then giving a snort. "Fuckin' lets go blow this up, lets go blow that up... Ya some type of fuckin' retard or somethin'? Hell. Ya wanna add another fuckin' port to the list of ports we can't go to? Ya wanna fuckin' shoot everythin' up in the middle of Castor and be labelled a terrorist?" He glances across to Swifty, and then back to Torr. "We fuckin' try and least get a direction of where they're goin'... Then we fuckin' strike." He shakes his head once more, and then sighs. "Swear I'm the only fuckin' bloke on this fuckin' crew with a brain."
Torr snorts at this and levels his finger at the other man. His glare is much colder than Barry's, his eyes taking on a dark, almost blank quality. "Shut the fuck up. All of you were gung ho the other day, now that you know some more shit you're a little less happy with that shit, huh. Lets all remember I'm in charge of fucking security around here. You think I'm stupid enough to attack a ship on a fucking landing pad, huh? You were the one who wanted to steal that fuckin' APC from the goddamn Timonae Militia. You're the one who strafed a bunch of fucking soldiers on La Terre. Don't talk shit about me when you pull shit like that. That too hard for you? Jesus Christ."
Swiftfoot rubs behind one ear and leans back against the kitchen counter, the end of her tail still flicking. The Demarian doesn't bother giving a verbal retort, instead opting to shrug slightly and take another pull from the bottle in her paw.
"Knock off the arguing shit, please." Solace groans, rubbing her forehead. "I am SO sick of this shit." She sighs and mutters to herself, but doesn't say anything else.
"Fine," Barry says, shaking his head. "Suit yaself Torr... Have a good life, because I'm out of here." He removes his hand from around Sol, slowly stands up, and makes his way towards his locker. "I am sick and fuckin' tired of bein' treated like an idiot, by a fuckin' knuckle draggin' clusterfuck that doesn't have the basic concept of hygene." He's serious, grabbing his bag out and shovelling contents into it. "I shoulda just taken that nice fuckin' comfy job with New Luna Militia Intelligence... But fuck no, I had to be loyal to a guy that ain't willin' to fuckin' listen to anyone but himself. The Horatio's can go to hell, if they're remotely fuckin' associated with anything that might be disturbing to Torr." He pauses for a moment, reaching a hand up to rest on Equality, and then switches it on. The weapon hums into life, as he continues about his work.
Torr rolls his eyes at this and pulls out his automatic. No charging needed, he cocks the weapon. "Turn your goddamn gun off," he commands, voice hard. "Calm the fuck down. Christ, you fuckin' run off without a word and then come back here like your the goddamn Captain? What the fuck? We have no fuckin' clue where you are then you prance back in thinking you are hot shit. What the fuck kind of loyalty is that? Ace tells me to fuckin' keep an eye on you and shit - might not be able to trust you? -, and I fuckin' convince her you are cool and now you're stormin' off like a little bitch? Christ. I ask for a little respect and you goddamn flip out. Chill the fuck out."
"Hey, now wait just a damn minute," Swiftfoot says, straightening and setting the bottle down. The felinoid crosses both arms over her lean chest, her brow is furrowed, and her ears lay back along her head. "Both of you. Sweet Brrakirr... Look, everryone's upset, okay? This situation is prretty fucked up. We all know that." She sighs and shakes her head. "I don't blame you forr being upset, but taking off isn't gonna solve a fuckin thing. It might fuck things up even morre, who knows?" The orange-furred Jackal's expression softens a bit, and she sighs. "Nobody's trreating you like an idiot, Mal. Farr frrom it. If we thought you werre an idiot, you wouldn't -be- herre. This ship has -all- of us jumpy as shit, but now is when we gotta stick by each otherr, meh? Otherrwise, they win. No question."
"Ya wanna go back to New Luna, Torr? Barry says, obviously not being disturbed by the pulling of the weapon. He continues to back his equipment into a back. "Then put that fuckin' pistol away..." He doesn't say what, but he's deadly serious. "Why Swifty? So everyone on this fuckin' crew can ventilate me adopted family and then /rub/ it in me face?" He shakes his head, and then glances towards Solace, looking apologetic. "Put the pistol away Torr... No... Fuckin' shoot, prove to the crew that yah a fuckin' right hero." The Horatio turns to face Torr and switches his pistol off, and then extends his arms. "Go on... Show them that ya're willing to kill yer own crew mates, the fuckin' ones that used to trust ya. If it wasn't for me on Triple Niner, ya would have killed those two people in cold blood. More than one way to remove a problem, found that out the hard way... And by the way yah carryin' 'bout me bein' a Horatio, I'm a problem."
Torr snorts and slides his pistol back into its holster. "I don't fuckin' like people runnin' around with goddamn powered up weapons," he replies, shaking his head a little. "And I told ya, Ace thought that shit was a problem, I convinced her it wasn't. So calm the fuck down about this stabbin' a crewmate in the back bullshit. Thats not what we do. Stop being so goddamn overdramatic." He takes his water bottle back into his hands and takes another sip. "For the record," he adds. "We're not fuckin' heros. You want that bullshit, you are in the wrong place."
"Nobody's ventilating anybody," Swiftfoot says, shaking her head, relaxing ever so slightly now that the weapons have been put away, or at least powered down. "Not unless we have to. If we'rre attacked, we'll act accorrdingly, but unless that happens..." The Demarian sighs, rubbing at the bridge of her nose with one paw. "You alrready know that we don't shoot firrst and ask questions laterr. This case is no different, and actually, since we -know- it's yourr family, we want to find out what the fuck's going on too, meh?" She shrugs vaguely. "Leastwise, I do. Call it feline curriosity, call it frriendship, call it whateverr the fuck you want, but I'm not going to just go sprraying pistol firre at -anyone- without prrovocation. Whetherr orr not you believe that is up to you, but honestly... have you -everr- known me to shoot firrst?"
"Ya mightn't do it Swifty," Barry comments, rather darkly as he continues to watch Torr. "But he would." He takes several steps towards the man, obviously not being his usual self. "He gets off on killin' people... Ya can just tell by the way he looks. Bet he has a fuckin' wank after he knocks someone off." Whether or not it's stress that's getting to him, that could be debated. "Ya fuckin' like that, don't ya sicko? Enjoy the killing, enjoy inflictin' pain on people." He arrives another step in front of Torr, and then pauses. "I can't be trusted... And to think, I was goin' outta me way to get that letter of marque for us. But I can't be trusted, so it doesn't matter, does it?"
"Are you fuckin' deaf?" Torr shakes his head a little bit. "You fuckin' hear me when I told Ace you could be goddamn trusted? Christ, you work for us because you can be fuckin' trusted. If I didn't trust you I'd goddamn have fuckin' kicked you off this ship a long time ago." Torr shakes his head and takes another sip from the bottle. He stands his ground. "And I don't fuckin' kill people unless I have to. You should know that by now."
"Look..." Swiftfoot says, straightening, then walking over and positioning herself between the two Martians, her back to Torr. She continues, her voice pitched low, in contrast with all the shouting that's going on. "We'rre all upset. But we trrust you, okay? I'd trrust you with my Brrakirr-be-damned life, and I think anyone on this crrew would do the same." The Demarian sighs, then looks down at Barry, her brow furrowed with concern. "Maybe we oughta all go outside and get some airr, meh? Being cooped on a ship can fuck with you sometimes."
Barry clentches his fist, and then nods. "Lets' get the fuck outside..." he doesn't say anything else as he makes his way towards the forward hatch, snagging his jacket on the way past. "It's just all too much at the moment."
"I want a drink." Solace says, already heading for the door without any further encouragement needed. She does however, turn to tell the kitten to stay, who's trying follow Barry. It doesn't really work.
"You wanna fuckin' drink or someshit?" Torr remarks, looking toward the other man. He has visably calmed down, eyes reclaiming their former glint. "We fuckin' trust, need you on here. Bullshit like that. Bottom line, ya a valuable member of this crew. Alright?"
Swiftfoot, for her part, looks over her shoulder at Torr, her expression mildly concerned. She shakes her head then, and angles toward the kitchen, stopping to pick up the abandoned bottle on the counter. "Can just brring a couple with, if ya want," she offers, then shrugs faintly, standing in the kitchen with one paw on the door to the refrigerator.
Barry continues on his way, still not seeming to happy about the current state of events. He doesn't say anything else as he makes his way out of the crew quarters, and persumablely into the air lock, and finally outside.
|Shuttle Pad <Ursiniru: Castor>|
This rather unremarkable gray metal platform offers one of the most spectacular views on the planet, granting an expansive glimpse of the vast forest of blue-leafed banyan trees that drip thick branches like candles oozing hot wax in streaks and cooling. The tallest trees - which fall short beside the great arboreal grandfather that houses Ursiniru - climb to about four thousand feet. Wisps of smoke rise from cookfires around Lower Ursiniru and the surrounding trees.
Torr thumps down the ramp of the Jackal, a beer bottle in each hand. He glances around the long shadows that are cast around the area by the setting sun. He stays silent for now as well, approaching Barry to hand him the second beer.
Swiftfoot clump clumps down the ramp shortly after Torr, her own half-full bottle in one of her paws. She rubs the back of her head as she steps out into the Castori sunset, pupils closing to slits as she looks toward the west. "Hrh. Nice place," she notes to nobody in particular, pausing on the boarding ramp for a moment with her tail swishing idly.
Barry takes the beer from Torr, and stares off into the distance. "Ya know... They're the only family I've really got, that ain't crew on this ship," he comments to the other man. "Look mate, didn't mean what I said back there. Just all this stress shit is gettin' to me." He doesn't really pay attention to the words of Swifty, but does nod slowly.
Solace follows last, the victorious kitten now perched on her shoulder. She hops over the side of the ramp, ignoring the claws, and sits down on the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest.
"Shit happens," Torr replies, shrugging a little. "Ya want to fuckin' take care of this shit yaself, we got yer back." He pops the top from the beerbottle. "Just don't want shit happenin' to the rest of us, ya know? Just tryin' to take care of our asses." He shrugs a little, to someone perceptive he is looking a little akward with the heart to heart.
Swiftfoot blinks and shifts her eyes down to the pair chatting on the landing pad. She walks up behind them then, easily able to see over them and out onto the landing pad. The Demarian remains silent for the moment, her eyes closing halfway, the big cat seemingly content to stand in the last vestiges of the waning day.
"If it is him, then I'll be the one to kill him," Barry says, rather casually as he cracks his beer open. "It all depends on how this all plays out... I don't know if he's involved, or what." He doesn't spare a glance back to the cat, the big cat or the Timmiegirl, still just staring off into the distance. "But I wanna be the one who kills him if he is." Solace lets Jackie hop off her shoulder, the kitten clambering from her back onto the landing pad. The feline sits on Swiftfoot's...well, foot, and starts washing herself. The Timmiegirl is still uncharacteristically silent, staring at her feet.
"Like I said, gotcha back," Torr answers, giving another small shrug. "Thats what bein' a Jackal is, huh, gettin' eachothers back." He takes a sip of your own beer. "Don't forget that shit, huh? We're fuckin' dysfunctional; but we sure as fuck take care of each other."
Swiftfoot nods idly in agreement, also staring off into the distance. If anyone was actually looking at the felinoid, they might notice her brow crease slightly as she does so. "Hrrr..." she grunts, putting up her free paw to shade her eyes from the sun. "Hate to interrupt this hearrt to hearrt converrsation, guys, but... anyone else see that?"
Barry looks back to Swifty, and then towards the direction that's indictated. He raises one hand, complete with brusing from what could be assumed to be handcuff marks, and narrows his eyes. "See what?" he mumbles in reply, obviously letting what Torr said go. Torr and Barry are standing beside each other, both have beers. Swifty's doing her cat thing of standing in the sun and solace is sitting down beside the Jackal with Blackjack.
Solace doesn't look up, she's either sunk in thought or melancholy, either way it's probably better that she's being left alone for the moment. The last thing everyone needs is a whining Timmiegirl.
Torr looks up as well. He brings his beer to his lips at the same time, taking a swig. He narrows his eyes a little, searching out what the cat eyes seemingly have picked up before anyone else.
The Faux's airlock cycles and the hatch swings open, allowing her kapitan to step out onto the top of the ramp. She pauses to crack her neck before heading down to the plascrete, her gaze following where Swifty, Barry and Torr are looking. "Always I walk in late...what did I miss?"
"Rright therre," the Demarian says, pointing vaguely to the sky in front of them. Swiftfoot blinks then, and looks down at Ace for a moment before shifting her eyes back to whatever it is that she's spotted. "Nothin yet, just saw it. Dunno what it is, though. Could be a ship, maybe? Could also be a damn birrd, I dunno what kind of wildlife they have herre, to tell the trruth."
A small black dot is visible, high up in the Castori sky. It appears to be heading toward the landing pad, but it's awfully hard to tell, since it's still very far away.
"I'm gonna fuckin' laugh if it's those wankers from Triple Niner," Barry comments, his interest solely put onto the incoming ship. He glances back towards Ace, and nods. "Nothin' interestin' Ace... Just Swifty catchin' bugs and watchin' ships come in. If she chases them on landin' I'll laugh." The man then glances across to Solace and frowns, and then he takes a drink from his bottle of beer.
Solace snags the kitten back and gets to her feet. She disappears inside the airlock for a moment, then returns without Blackjack, and a pulse pistol on either hip. Hopping off the side again, she takes her previous position next to the boarding ramp, knees up to her chest.
"Yah, then chase yer fuckin' tail around, Meowmix," Torr remarks, smirking a little as he glances toward the Demarian. His eyes are drawn toward the sky once more, however, seeking to spot whatever it is that is nearing them. He leaves the beer along for the moment.
Swiftfoot snorts softly, her tail flicking. "Yeah, you all arre just a fuckin rriot," she mutters, apparently at a loss for a retort, most of her attention being given to the incoming object, whatever it may be.
The object is quite obviously on an inbound trajectory at this point, and is readily recognizable as a ship - no animal could move that fast. It's still impossible to see the markings or colors on her, however, and telling the class of the ship would be quite difficult at this distance.
Ace shields her eyes and scowls, "Da...whatever it is, it is heading in our direction," she says, "But this /is/ a landing pad, da?"
"That a Calliope or somethin'?" Barry mumbles, looking back towards the ship in question. He doesn't stick around to find out, as he shakes his head, and then heads towards Solace, and kneels down in front of her. "Ya right babe?" he quietly asks, sounding quite concerned. "Look, sorry 'bout that shit before... I'm just under a lota stress and I don't upset ya. Ya know ya mean the universe to me."
Solace just shrugs, propping her chin up on her knees. "M'fine." She replies. "Just sick of arguin' an' sick of listenin' to people fight. Just wanted to stay th'fuck out of it." She reaches out and pats Barry's shoulder. "M'fine, I promise, yeah?"
Torr snickers a little. "Really fuckin' studious of ya, Ace," he remarks, smirking a little. He lifts the bottle once more and takes another sip. Eyes flick toward Barry then away from him, surveying the darkening landing area.
"Arguing?" Ace frowns, tearing her eyes for a moment from the horizon to look over at Solace and then to the other three, "What were you fighting about?" @emit "Might be," the Demarian admits, still shading her eyes from the setting sun with one paw. "Dunno, harrd to tell at this distance, could be just about any damn thing. Maybe it's the Athena." Swiftfoot chuckles softly, her eyes still on the approaching ship.%r%rThe ship continues to approach the landing pad, but as has already been observed, it's a landing pad, right? Nothing out of the ordinary about a ship coming in for a landing... or is there?
"Might be," the Demarian admits, still shading her eyes from the setting sun with one paw. "Dunno, harrd to tell at this distance, could be just about any damn thing. Maybe it's the Athena." Swiftfoot chuckles softly, her eyes still on the approaching ship.
The ship continues to approach the landing pad, but as has already been observed, it's a landing pad, right? Nothing out of the ordinary about a ship coming in for a landing... or is there?
Barry sighs at Ace's question, and seems to ignore her for the time being. "Yeah... And I'm sorry for gettin' ya all upset," he says in reply, before reaching up and taking Sol's hand, and giving it a gentle kiss. "I really am sorry for it, and ya know it."
"Internal shit," Torr replies to Ace. "Just leave it at the fact we all trust bigman, a'right?" He takes another sip from the bottle, eyes moving back toward the descending ship as he frowns a little. "Aw, fuck, better not be the goddamn Athena. Christ."
"I know. An' I already made you pretty fuckin' sorry..." Solace smirks a bit, then shakes her head. "So I guess I can let it go this time." She reaches out and ruffles his hair, glancing up. "If it's the Athena, can I shoot it?" She inquires curiously.
Out of habit, without even thinking about it, Ace thumbs the power on her custom blaster. "Private, da," she nods, her eyes going back to the incoming ship, "By the way, has there been any sign of this Hyena?"
"Interrnal shit," Swiftfoot agrees absently, her eyes still on the sky. "That ship looks... familiarr..." The felinoid trails off, her eyes narrowing. "It's not the Athena. Too bad, meh?" She chuckles then, and continues to watch.
By this time, it's pretty easy to tell that the approaching vessel is a Calliope-class ship. She's painted a dark color, reflecting almost none of the fading pink and amber of the sunset.
"Yeah... Ya did," Barry replies, closing his eyes, and then looking away from the Timmiegirl for a moment as she ruffles his hair. "I think what ya did to me, was worse than Ace breakin' more jaw. I swear ya were enjoyin' it." He then redirects his attention to the possible Athena, and purses his lips for a moment. "I say we just shot it down."
Solace gets to her feet, offering a hand down to Barry as she does. "Either way, I say we're ready. I don't wanna be caught with m'pants down if it is someone who's comin' to hurt us." She says uncertainly. <Public> Renkek Kashaan has disconnected.
Torr snickers a little. "What the fuck happened to shooting second, askin' questions first?" He smirks, cocking an eyebrow a little bit at the other Jackals. Eyes go back toward the descending ship, narrowed a little as he watches its progress.
"That is the kind of thinking that got your jaw broken in the first place, Mal," Ace replies with a frown, still tracking the incoming ship with more than just a passing interest.
"Naw, don't wanna shoot em till we know who it is," the Demarian says, still watching the inbound vessel. "Hey, wait a minute..." The felinoid reaches down to unholster one of her pistols with her free paw, flicking the switch to 'stun'.
The inbound vessel's engines can be heard quite easily, a high-pitched whine that cycles downward a bit as she comes in to land. The resemblance to the Jackal is uncanny, which is probably the source of the orange-furred pilot's confusion. The ship is painted a flat black, with her only identifying mark being a red symbol emblazoned on the starboard side, just behind where the bridge would be. The Calliope sweeps into a nearby berth, as plain as day, and as bold as brass.
"Fuck me dead and bury me pregnant," Barry grumbles, shaking his head as he takes Solace's hand and rises to his feet. "Was a fuckin' joke... Ya know what a joke is, right Ace? Torr? Ya need the dictionary? Chirst, I'm tryin' to get meself in a better mood and every fucker's breathin' down me neck." He glances up to the ship, and then arches a brow. "I wonder..." he trails off during his pondering.
Solace casually unholsters both her pistols after letting go of Barry's hand, nudging him with her elbow. "Cool down." She suggests easily, then smiles. "Just cool down. S'hard to tell the difference between you jokin' an' not, usually, yeah? No one meant anythin' by it."
Torr snickers. "If it was the Athena I'd be witcha all the way," The martian concedes to the faux-Sivadian. An eyebrow arches a little as he watches the descent of the other ship, a hand dropping to the weapon slung from one thigh. He flicks it to a quietly humming charge, as well as moving the selector to stun. "Huh."
Ace turns to look at Barry, her face a stony mask that's finally broken by the raise of an eyebrow and the quirk of a smile touching the corner of her mouth. "You need to lighten up, Barry," she says simply before turning her attention back to the ship, "Looks like your Hyena to me."
"Surre does," the Demarian agrees, her pistol held at her side casually. "Fuckerrs." Swiftfoot's eyes narrow and her ears lay back as she studies the other ship.
For a moment, there's no response from the other ship. Then, her external speaker crackles on, and a deep, male voice addresses the landing pad, the Martian accent quite recognizable. "Well, well, look what we got here. Looks like we got us a whole fuckin party waiting for us on the fuckin landing pad. That's sweet as shit. Nice of you to bring out the welcome wagon, fuckers."
In Demarese: "Always with the weapons," Barry dryly comments after noticing the powering up on weapons, but he keeps his hands away from his concealed weapons. "Let's just fuckin' get a coreseeker and blow the planet up... Yeah, that'd work." He's being sarcastic before shaking his head. "That was a /joke/ for those that need clari-fuckin'-cation." He takes several steps forward and looks towards the ship in question, and then starts to make his way towards it. Remind me to fuckin' shit in Torr's bed, Swifty His Demarese is pretty average and his accent is terrible, but hopefully he gets the point across. Both the remarks about needing to calm down seem to be ignored. Barry swallows hard, seeming to tense up as he waits for something. The voice of the speaks reaches his he seems slightly anxious, but doesn't call back anything yet.
"I think we should get cover." Solace suggests quietly. "I doubt they care if they shoot up a landing pad getting to us, yeah?" She suits word to action, stepping a bit to shield herself behind the bulk of the Jackal.
Torr smirks a little bit at the words both from the speakers and from Barry. He doesn't yet draw his weapon, rather he moves up a few paces behind Barry. For once he seems to be waiting to see what the other man will do.
"He sounds very familiar for someone we have never met," Ace drawls, looking to Swiftfoot, "How it is you wish to handle this?"
"Dunno," the Demarian admits, her eyes on the other vessel. She looks down at Ace then, flicks her left ear once, wrinkles her nose, and twitches her whiskers twice, her eyes going to Barry before they go back to their previous target, the Hyena.
After a few moments, the Hyena's airlock cycles open, and a handful of humans step out, descending the ship's boarding ramp and standing at the bottom. Four of them are youngish, perhaps in their late twenties to early thirties. The apparent leader, however, is an older man, his steel-gray hair making him stand out against the rest. "Well isn't that just the fuckin cutest," he says, smirking at the gathering. "We got us some alien lovers here." The rest of them snigger under their breath, and stay standing behind the man addressing the landing pad.
"Fuckin' blow me ye fuckin' cock suckin' wankers," Barry diplomaticly calls back in reply, pausing half way and still seeming rather annoyed. He goes silent for a moment, cocking his head to one side as he looks towards the older man, arching a brow. He then takes a step back away from the group that just left the Hyena.
Ace follows after Torr and Mal, curious as she cocks her head and grins at Swifty, her own nose twitching in response as she scratches at her ear.
Solace doesn't seem terribly willing to expose herself to the psychopaths, peeking around the bulk of the ship to get a good look, but doesn't step out to join the rest of the crew.
Torr snickers softly at Mal's responce, shaking his head a little bit. "Christ," he mutters under his breath. He takes a pull from his beer bottle and then crosses his arms across his chest, He remains silent, coldly eying the other crew.
Swiftfoot chuckles as well at Barry's response, smirking at the other crew. The felinoid's eyes narrow briefly, then she nods down at Ace, her ears flicking in an alternating pattern. Her tail lashes once, rather irritably, and she shifts her eyes back over to the new arrivals.
"Whatcha laughin at, Cat?" the older man inquires, eyeing the Demarian. "Oughta run back along to your God-almighty desert before you fuckin get yourself hurt." The man eyes Barry then, one brow quirked upward. "You obviously don't know who the fuck you're dealing with, boy, or you wouldn't be running your mouth off like that." Still no word from the other four, who seem content to be on standby, as it were.
"And ye don't fuckin' know you ye're dealing with 'ere either," Barry replies, narrowing his eyes at the grey haired man. He doesn't retreat anymore, crossing his arms across his chest, slipping one hand inside his jacket, perhaps resting on a concealed weapon. "What ya got me damned Uncle's ship for, ye fucktard?" Solace seems to think that she's not going to be straight out shot, so she moves out to join the rest, while still hanging back, hands on her hips. She doesn't say anything, at least not for the moment, but her eyes flick over to her mother.
Ace manages not to show any sign of surprise at the 'uncle' revelation, the tall Ungstiri having dropped into a mood rarely seen by those she calls friend. Her back is straight and her gaze icy cold as she steps up quietly behind Barry, fixing her mirror-shaded eyes on the man with the mouth. "Am thinking that goes both ways," she says quietly, a deadly frost in her tone.
Torr lets Barry do the speaking. He seems content with the other man's handling of the situation, his beer bottle still held in one hand while his arms remain crossed over his chest. His eyes wander across the opposing crew, narrowed a little as he sizes each up, as well as visually searches them for weapons of any sort.
The Demarian's eyes narrow, and she shakes her head, her ears laying back flat against her skull. Her lip curls in the faintest beginnings of a snarl, and she backs up a step, toward Solace. Swiftfoot looks sidewise at the Timonae, and nods, her eyes then flicking out toward the other crew again.
"What, do you think I'm fucking stupid, Malion?" the older man says, his complete attention on Barry. No such luck with the rest of the crew, though. They appear to be sizing up the Jackals even as the Jackals size them up. The gray-haired man shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. "I'm pretty fuckin disappointed in you right now, you know that? Having truck with Demarians and Timonae and who the fuck knows what else. Pretty fuckin disappointed indeed."
No backing down this time, and Barry takes a step towards the other crew. "Disappointed... Ya've think ya fuckin' now me?," he shakes his head, and then lets his arms drop down to his side, not having withdrawn a weapon. He's completely calm as he continues his walk forward, narrowing his eyes slightly. It's quite possible that people haven't seen Barry like this before, especially in the face of possible injury. "Now... Where the fuck is my UNCLE?!"
Solace scratches the end of her nose, this time avoiding thwapping herself in the head with the grip of her pulse pistol. She doesn't seem terribly concerned, at least not yet, though that might just be a poker face.
Ace continues to stand two steps back and to Barry's right, a silent but menacing figure waiting to strike.
Torr hangs back slightly behind Barry. He lets his arms uncross, one hand hanging loosely by his MK6 while the other still holds the half empty beer bottle. His face is cold, stolid, and emotionless. Eyes focus one one particular crewman, hardening slightly as he eyes the man.
Swiftfoot still stands there, beer bottle in one paw, eyeing the other crew balefully. She snorts after a moment, and shakes her head, her brow furrowing in concern at Barry's outburst as she looks over at him.
"Mal, Mal, Mal," the gray-haired man chides, a frown creasing his craggy face. "Again, I'm disappointed. I'd expected you to be a bit smarter about this. You fuckin drunk or something?" He snorts and shakes his head. "You ask me where your fuckin uncle is? Well, I'll tell you. He's standing right in front of you... nephew." While this is going on, the crewman that Torr is eyeing looks over with a brow quirked upward, and rolls his eyes slightly at the Jackal's XO.
"No..." Barry quietly replies, his sudden temper fading. "No... Where the fuck is me Uncle?" He raises his hand to inside of his jacket, and then lets it drop. "A fuckin' Horatio would never fuckin' lie to another one..." That's when the realisation kicks in. "You fuckin' pig Uncle Acheros... I fuckin' believed ya." He continues with his approach towards the other crew, if he's going in, he's going in unarmed.
"So...are you going to introduce us?" Ace asks, her voice so cold you can practically see her breath frosting the air.
Solace looks like she's about to go and drag Barry back, but she decides not to, holding her ground to cover him if she needs to. She doesn't look too happy about it, however.
Torr’s eyes flick toward Barry as the man begins to advance toward the other crew. Then narrowed eyes go back toward crewman that he had been eyeing before. He smirks a little, shaking his head slowly. He remains where he is for the moment, staring down the other side.
The Demarian's eyes narrow, then widen as she sees Barry start for the other group. " Mal, no, that's what he -wants- ," Swiftfoot shouts after him, her ears laying back and her tail now lashing back and forth. The pistol is still in one paw, beer in the other.
"Don't you know how to speak Standard, you fuckin furball?" Acheros says, eyes narrowing at the Demarian. As Barry starts toward the crew, the other four crewmembers fan out behind the older man, smirking arrogantly. It seems almost like they've been waiting for this for a while now. The older man just stands at the base of the Hyena's boarding ramp, laughing to himself. "You got a lot to learn, fucker. A lot to learn indeed. You want to start those lessons today, then you just keep right on coming, boy. Otherwise, you turn your dumb ass back around and head right fuckin back toward your sorry-ass excuse for a crew."
Barry pauses after Swifty's call, and then glares at his Uncle, but thrusts a finger at him. "Yer dead next time our path's cross." He glances at the crew men that have fanned out, selecting the closest person to him. He's barely in control of himself, and then he loses his temper completely, breaking into a sprint towards the man with the intent on causing some serious harm.
Ace was a bit confused when Barry talked of another time, wondering why not now...and then she got her answer. With a grim smile, she follows Barry, "Guess I will have to make my own introductions," she growls as she charges the nearest crewman.
Solace follows, back but holds back behind the rest of the crew, knowing that her fists would be more help than hinderance. She puts one of the pulse pistols away and grabs her stun gun instead, charging it up quickly.
Torr smirks a little more as Barry charges on the other crew. Torr picks out the man he had been eying before and nods. "Fucker," he grunts out. Then he hefts the beer bottle, lifting it before letting it fly at the other man. He follows after the beer bottle as quick as he can, breaking into a sprint similar to Barry's.
Swiftfoot, already having a charged-up pistol in paw and seemingly just looking for an excuse to do so, levels it at the fourth crewman, the one not already being either charged or having a bottle thrown at him, and -then- charged. She pulls the trigger, firing a three-round burst of energy at him. She's still got the beer in her other paw, but doesn't seem to be paying it a whole lot of mind just now.
Acheros is already making tracks, having slipped past his 'honor guard' and started up the boarding ramp. "You're wrong, Mal. If anyone's gonna end up dead here, it's gonna be you fuckers." He turns and flicks the bird at the Jackals before darting into the airlock.
Torr's beer bottle goes harmlessly wide, the man he threw it at sidestepping and advancing, fists up and ready. The other two thugs react similarly, one advancing on Ace, and one on Barry. The bolts from Swiftfoot's energy pistol slam into the fourth man, knocking him to the ground beside the boarding ramp of the Hyena, either unconscious or pretty darn close to it.
Barry continues with his sprint towards his target, attempting to tackle the man as he approaches and take the fight to the ground. It would be easy to say that he's pissed off, and made pretty good time on his run.
Ace ends her run with a flying kick, the death threats from Mal's uncle driving her heel towards his throat.
Solace sees the three going down, and her sights go for the fourth, who's about to face, Torr. Doesn't look like she's needed after all. She powers down her stun gun, then casually reaches down to pull a knife from her boot, one of her pulse pistols still in her other hand.
Torr follows quickly after the beer bottle, the object acting more as a distraction more than anything else. He follows the bottle with a quick fist aimed for the face, not wasting any time apparently.
Ace lands neatly on the balls of her feet as the man falls beneath her, "Privet," she says, "Am Kapitan Ace...pleasure to make your acquaintance." She turns to see how the others are doing, her muscles taut and ready for a fight.
The Demarian, seemingly satisfied with dropping one of the thugs, turns her attention to the ship. "Fuck, he's gonna get away," she snarls, leveling the gun at the ship with a frustrated lash of her tail. The Demarian pulls the trigger, despite the absolute uselessness of the gesture. Hey, whatever makes you feel better, right?
The unfortunate man that Barry tackled falls heavily to the plascrete, hitting his head on the landing pad with an audible crack. After that, he lies very -very- still, either unconscious or worse.
Ace's opponent fares just about as well, falling to the ground clutching futilely at his throat, completely unaware of her introduction. He thrashes for a couple of moments, then falls still.
Only one man is still standing. Torr's fist impacting with the man's face makes him stop and shake his head for a moment, as if to clear it, before he swings back at the Jackal's XO.
And Barry's still annoyed, adjusting his position to seize the man's head. If he's not dead, he will be unless someone gets Barry off him. He raises the man's head up, most likely attempting to finish the job he started in the most inhuman way possible.
Solace saunters on up and puts a hand on Barry's shoulder. "Babe." She says simply, then shakes her head. "Hard to ask question when they're dead. You can kill him when we're done." She promises, keeping one eye on Torr's continuing fist fight.
Torr slaps the fist aside with a quick sweep of his forarm. He brings back the other fist, then rockets it forward, aiming to smash the other man a good one right in the face once more. A glance flicks toward Barry just before the fist flies and Torr barks out: "Don't let him kill the fuck!" Then he lets loose.
Ace reaches down to hook her arm in front of Barry's just in case Solace's words didn't do the trick, "As she said, no answers if they are all dead, and you were too slow with the first shot, da?"
"Fuck, Mal, don't kill him," the Demarian shouts, her eyes shifting from the ship to the melee again. She growls then, and watches, her ears going back instinctively as the Hyena's engines cycle up.
The external speakers on the ship click on, and the now-familiar voice of Acheros addresses the general area. "Hope you fuckers had a good time. Have fun with the authorities, too. I'll be seeing you, I'm sure. Just you remember what I said. Especially you, boy." With that, the pitch of the engines climbs, and the Hyena takes off, heading out into the atmosphere.
The man facing Torr looks genuinely surprised as his fist is batted aside, and takes another punch straight to the face. He staggers a bit and tries to regain his balance, backing off a few steps from the fight. A quick glance around gives him pause, however, and his hands drop to his sides forlornly, a lost look crossing his face as he watches the Hyena lift off.
Barry continues to hold the man's head, and then places it gently onto the tarmac, then he stands slowly back up after the interdiction by Ace and Sol. He's calm, he's completely calm, he delivers one good boot with towards the man's ribs, just to check if he's still alive, and then offers a finger to the departing Hyena.
Solace trains her gun on the one still standing, releasing Barry now that he seems in control. "Get your fucking hands behind your head." She says. "Or I swear to the Lady I will shoot both of them off. You're gonna come with us, we're gonna lift off, and if you don't answer us, we'll leave you in the fucking airlock and let you go for a spacewalk, without a fuckin' suit."
Ace looks over at Torr, "Had expected better from you," she says with a shrug, "Considering all that I have heard." She looks between the downed men and then up at the receding Hyena, "So...I take it this means you will not be invited to next family reunion?"
"Looks like your boss ditched your ass," Torr remarks with a smirk to the other man. He glances around at the others, then back to the Hyena. "Where the fuck he headed next, huh? Your boss, wheres he hidin' out?" He nods at the words of Solace. "Yeah, shes fuckin' serious." He glances at Ace and snorts. "Yeah? Your guy was fuckin' slow, mine had some skill - thats inpressive on your part too." He winks, then turns back to the man.
Swiftfoot snorts and powers her pistol down, holstering it and making her way over to where the man she stunned lays on the plascrete. "Fuck. He's rright. We gotta get these assholes the hell off the landing pad beforre the authorrities get herre, such as it is..." She shakes her head and nudges the fallen man with the toe of her boot before hauling him to his feet with a grunt of effort and slinging him over her shoulder clumsily. "Sweet Brrakirr, what the fuck? His pockets full of rrocks orr something? Orr arre Marrtians just generrally heavierr than norrmal humans?"
The other two downed men don't stir at all. The one left standing is as tense as a spring, turning slowly to look up into Solace's face. His eyes widen slightly as his gaze falls on the stun pistol, and he puts his hands carefully behind his head. "I don't know a fuckin thing," he mutters, his eyes going to the ground.
"Yep... Not invited to the next family reunion," Barry grumps, as he looks back down to his downed man, and then across to Ace. "I think we better beat a hasty retreat before I've gotta come back and remove witnesses." He turns on his heel and makes his way towards the Jackal, before suddenly turning back to the man that claims to nothing and then arches a brow. "Ya wouldn't lie to a crew more dangerous than ya own, would ya? Think 'bout this, two of us maimed ya friends without a problem... Think we wouldn't hesitate in doing the same to ya?" He motions towards Torr, and then smiles faintly. "This guy gets off on torturing people... So he'll make it last and he'll enjoy it." It's bluff and it might work... Hopefully.
"If there's any dead, grab em anyway, we'll space th'bodies." Solace suggests, moving along behind the guy who protests ignorance. "C'mon, fucker. You don't want me t'encourage you t'move, do you? Cause I'm not very good at it, I usually end up makin' people bleed." She starts prodding him in the direction of the Jackal.
Ace reaches down to the dead body, hoisting it up over her shoulder as she turns her mirrored gaze on the remaining man. "You answer him, or I will kill you. Is simple as that."
Torr nods a little and moves toward the ship as well. He casts a glance around the landing pad but then turns his eyes back to the prisoner and the Jackal. "Lets get this shit rollin', huh?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," Swiftfoot says, already clomping towards the Jackal's boarding ramp, her tail flicking idly behind her. "Hell, Ace, eitherr you'rre damn strrong orr yourrs is skinnierr than mine." The felinoid chuckles then, shaking her head slightly as she heads toward the airlock.
The remaining man literally shakes in his boots at Barry's words. "T-t-t... Tomin Kora," he finally stammers out, withering under the baleful gaze of assorted Jackals and associates. "N... no," he replies to Solace, suddenly very compliant as he starts toward the ship, his hands still on the back of his head. Barry rolls his Strength with a 0 modifier. Use a feat (+help feats) to try to overcome the impossible. The result of the roll is Mediocre (-1).
Barry grabs the unconscious man, grinning slightly at the downed party. "Thank you for your time and cooperation," he says politely to the man, giving a friendly smiles before scowling. "Don't worry, I won't harm you." He kneels down, and attempts to lift the down party... Apparently Barry's either weak, or he's got the fat guy, as he doesn't exactly move him. "Oi... One of ya guys wanna grab this fuck?"
Ace heads towards the Jackal's airlock, "This one must have been on a diet," she reassures the Demarian with a nod, looking over to Barry. "So...if that was your uncle, why didn't you know him?"
Solace heads up the ramp with Scaredy McWetpants in front of her, pushing him up against the door as she gives him a basic patdown, gun still at the small of his back. She finishes quickly, no cavity searches here, then opens the hatch and shoves him inside roughly.
Torr stops in his tracks and turns toward the fat man. He stoops then moves to grab the man's legs. "Get his fuckin' upper half, will ya bigman?" He lifts the bottom half easily, waiting for Barry to grab the other half before he moves toward the ship.
Swiftfoot steps into the hatch shortly before Solace shoves the conscious prisoner in, clomping through the airlock and into the main corridor of the ship.
Scaredy McWetpants, as he has now been dubbed, doesn't put up any sort of a fight as Solace searches him, indeed standing perfectly still as she does so. Her shove catches him a little off guard, and he staggers up the boarding ramp into the airlock.
"Fuck," Barry comments, struggling to get the man up. "He's a fuckin' heavy one 'lright..." He continues with Torr's assistants towards the Jackal, struggling under what feels like the human tonne.
Torr lets Barry go first up the ramp, this martian bearing most of the weight at his end. They heft Fatty McGee up the ramp and into the airlock, where it can be assumed that they dump him.
|Airlock <IND Jackal>|
An amber warning light washes the small airlock, chasing dull shadows across the gray hullsteel walls. It's sized for approximately five crew, with plenty of space for gear and equipment. Access panels and storage lockers frame the space, providing a sparse atmosphere of simple utility. Along one wall there is a rack for several EVA suits, along with ports for keeping the suits' systems charged and online. A hatchway emblazoned with a stylized jackal's head in bold red leads starboard into the ship's forward corridor, and is fitted with a windowed partition.
One unconscious man sits on the floor already, and Swiftfoot stands by the entrance to the main corridor. "So we headed forr Tomin Korra, I take it?" she inquires, head tilted slightly to the side as she eyes the one conscious prisoner. "You betterr not be lying."
The oh-so-complacent prisoner shakes his head wildly. "N-no, I ain't lying. I swear, he's going to Tomin Kora. You can ask... well... when they wake up..." He trails off, looking forlornly at his unconscious and/or dead comrades.
"Let's bring him with." Solace suggests, a bit meanly. "Lock him up in the storage area an' then use him as a shield when we go against his friends." Her smile is more than a little malicious.
"I reckon we leave him unharmed," Barry comments, giving an evil grin. "Then we let him go for a little walk with his companions." He turns to head back into the ship proper, dropping his load of the Fatty McFatfat. "I'll get us underway... If we've got fuel."
"Wasn't me who flew last," Torr remarks, holding up his hands once they drop Fatty to the deck. He steps a few paces back from the two, smirking slightly as he eyes the collection. "Yeah, leave 'em with your pal there. Speaking of, lets track this shithead down so you can show him whats up, huh Bigman?" Eyes go toward Ace. "Wanna meet us there, or ride along?"
"Is no reason to kill him," Ace says with a frown, "Do not think there are any loyalty issues to deal with, and do not think he is stupid enough to come after us again."
"Might as well leave the Faux here," Ace replies, "Crew has scattered again so I am short an engineer."
"Yeah, he's not gonna give a shit about em," Swiftfoot says, shrugging. "He left em behind. They werre a distrraction is all. Not a verry good one, eitherr." The Demarian snorts and shakes her head for a moment, then eyes Mal. "Yeah, if you could get us underrway, that'd be good. We might need rrefueled, though. Me, I'm gonna go catch a nap. I'm tirred as hell." She nods at Ace then, and grins. "Always good to have you aboarrd, Ace. The accomodations arren't exactly five-starr, but we'rre a fun bunch." She winks and starts out into the corridor, her tail flicking idly behind her.
The conscious prisoner shakes his head wildly at all the mention of spacewalks. "D-d-don't kill me... any of us... Look, Acheros fuckin left us there. I don't want anything to do with him... I don't got any beef with you guys, okay?"
Solace glances over at Ace, and arches an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. She snerks quietly at the man, and shrugs. "Okay, we'll leave you alone." She tells him. "Siddown on th'floor with your pals, and we'll open the airlock real soon." A feral grin crosses her face, and she starts heading for the corridor. "C'mon, let's get up. Have a good nap, mama."
"He's a witness," Barry quite flatly states in reply to Ace, completely indifferent to the man's plight. "Witnesses cause trouble, and link stuff back to us. Stuff linking back to us, means that we've got to watch our back more than we do now." He glances back to Torr and nods. "I'll run some recon of potential areas... See what I can find, can't be too different to hunting animals." He glances back to the man. "Stiff fuckin' shit." He then glances back to Swifty, and nods. "Have a good one Swifty."
Torr nods a little, then turns toward the prisoners. "You better fuckin' behave. If not - well, we can always turn ya loose in the fuckin' Tomin Nebula." He nods toward Swifty in farewell. He moves for the hatch leading to the main corridor, but doesn't exit yet.
Ace silently pats down the dead man, stripping him of any personal belongings or identification. "Hoop, he's a thug for hire," Ace replies, "Is not about to show up and press charges. What is he witness to? A fight he was involved in where a man died?" She shakes her head, "Murder is not necessary." She nods to Swifty, "Spaciba...have slept in far worse, believe me," she grins, "Torr may smell bad, but is nothing like the sewers of Sanctuary."
Swiftfoot offers a wave over her shoulder at the chorus of goodnights and goodbyes, heading toward the crew quarters. A burst of most un-feline laughter can be heard at Ace's comment.
The frightened man takes a seat on the floor, on the other side of the airlock from the dead man. He shudders as he eyes the corpse, then lets his gaze wander away, to the wall. For the moment, the man remains silent.
Solace grumbles a bit. "I never get t'kill anyone." She mutters under her breath, heading out into the corridor with her shoulders hunched. "I wanted t'see him 'splode, th'last one we didn't get t'see 'splode." She complains, more to herself than anyone else, stomping in the direction of the cockpit.
Torr snorts and shakes his head. "Christ, we don't fuckin' kill people for fun," he mutters. "Told you that shit earlier, Jesus." He glances toward Ace and smirks. "Har har, you should be a fuckin' stand up comedian, what the fuck you flying around kickin' ass for?" Then he heads toward the crew quarters.