Downtime will be approximately two weeks in-game time, but will last through the month of July. August will be when I kick off the next adventure, and I'll hold a poll this week to see what folks are interested in most.
That said, this is a writing challenge. What does your character do for two weeks? This isn't a shopping thread, this is a short story of how you want to spend the time. Bonus XP anywhere between 500-1500 depending on quality, length and continuity.
Downtime: Writing Challenge
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Underguard
- Dimension Master
- Posts: 1244
- Joined: Mon Jun 03, 2019 6:41 pm
- Location: CAF, UPS and GIRLS GM - nphilip90s/ScytheNP#2513
Downtime: Writing Challenge
Rifts: Earth Dimension Master
H4H GM || GIRLS GM || Spooks Temp GM|| Theme Song
PCs: | Exe (PW GA) | Venenifer (Roughnecks) | Glitch (PW GR) | Granas (PFRPG) | Isaiah Peirce (BTS)| Ashrak (Void Reavers)
H4H GM || GIRLS GM || Spooks Temp GM|| Theme Song
PCs: | Exe (PW GA) | Venenifer (Roughnecks) | Glitch (PW GR) | Granas (PFRPG) | Isaiah Peirce (BTS)| Ashrak (Void Reavers)
╭∩╮（︶︿︶）╭∩╮
Re: Downtime: Writing Challenge
Who's House?!
"Hello, my name is Grace Minerva and I would like to purchase a home. This one." Minerva to her first choice of home, a larger than average home smack between the Mystic Medicine Clinic and the Mage's Guild. If that one isn't available to her, she offers two more choices. Second choice being between Magic Missives and Armstrong-Bennett TW Shop at the Southeast corner of the Guild. Third choice is between Bubble Bubble Enlightenment Theatre and Uncommon Knowledge, along the west side of the Guild. When asked why she wants to live in the Mystic Quarter, she replies "I've never felt safer than surrounded by wizards and mystics. A woman can never be too safe, yeah?" If the housing meets her requirements of two floors, a small garden, a patio overlooking the pyramid, 2+ bed/bathrooms, spacious living room, modern kitchen, garage and comes with state of the art security, she's willing to pay between 500K to 1.25M for a residence.
Once her options are laid out for her, she chooses her best option and signs the paperwork to finalize.
Move it!
"Yes, you can place that box down there. No, I don't know when the plumbers are arriving. Yes, you can have a water, they're in the fridge." Who knew hiring movers would be so much work?! Minerva watches carefully as "Big Brother and the Moving Company" hauled in box after box of items from her previous residence at the M.A.R.S. HQ to her new digs.
"Hey! Watch your horns, I'm gonna have to get that plaster redone." Can someone put a hard hat on the minotaur? For shame!
For an entire day, she watches and directs as large D-bees bring her boxes in and leave them in rooms based on some markings on a piece of tape. I can unpack tomorrow. Let's put the bed together and then get in it. Minerva uses her Super Telekinesis to pick up the various pieces of her mahogany bed frame and assemble them. Next she lifts her mega-foam mattress onto it. Then she manually places the 600 thread count silk sheets down, fitted then top. Pillows in their cases are placed at the head of the bed and then the fluffy duvet to finish it off. Minerva is so tired that she falls onto the bed and passes out for a full night's sleep.
So many shelves in this room
In the morning, Minerva wakes up face down in her sheets. Ay, mierda. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she gets up out of bed and heads downstairs. "Boxes everywhere. I'd better get started." Using telekinesis, Minerva begins opening boxes, lifting items out and floating them to their final destinations. Vases, clothing, and various knick-knacks land where they belong. After an hour of unpacking, Minerva comes to a realization. "I have no kitchenware. Or food. I must to shopping."
Supermarket Sweep!
"Carrots are how much?!" Minerva almost stumbles backwards over her cart recoiling at the price tag in front of her. "No. Change of plans." She puts the bunch of carrots back on the shelf and heads to grab some potatoes, onions and celery. A large steak, some salt and pepper, olive oil, rosemary, thyme. A few 12 packs of soda, a bottle of orange juice and a container of milk. Oatmeal, bagels, butter. OK now for kitchenwares. She picks up a saute pan, 5 sets of forks/knives/spoons, kitchen towels, a spatula, two bottle openers, a pair of tongs, a kitchen knife set and an apron.
At the checkstand, she is aware of the clerk eyeing the sheer amount of items she's placed on the belt. "Just bought my own place! I must stock it well, no?" She receives a accompanied with "I work for 60 credits a day so my brother doesn't get taken off life support at the State Hospital." Minerva is and completes her check out experience in silence. Well that was unpleasant. I can hear you. Madre de Dios! Puedo hablar español. Minerva hurriedly picks up her bags and heads back to her new house.
Spending time to put all the food and cookware items away, she wipes her brow and leans against her counter. "A hard day's work and I now have a kitchen!" She looks at the potatoes and the celery and then at her phone. "I should just order pizza tonight."
Picking up her phone, Minerva dials the listing for Old Grandad's Pizza. "One Eight Hundred P I Z Z A 4 U. Hello? Hi, yes. My name is Grace and I'd like to order two pizzas. One with all the peppers, yes that one too. And one with piña and jalapeño. Yes, I understand that piña is rare on... can't go on? What do you mean, can't? Ugh, just give me the first one and a pepperoni. I'm at 715 Dragonfly Blvd. OK, see you shortly." She waits around until the driver arrives, takes the pizza and gives him a 10% tip. No piña, bad tip. She kicks her feet up on her couch, opens a bottle of Quebec Riesling and chows down.
Feelin' Myself
"Ugh... vino. Demasiada pizza." She wakes up on her couch as the sun passes through her curtains and splashes her face. Surrounded a ¾ eaten pizza and a fully drunk bottle of wine, she sighs. OK, time to clean up.
She pops off the couch and gets to cleaning up her weak attempt at debauchery last night. Once the pizza is put away and the bottle disposed of, she decides It's time to relax until this feeling goes away. The feeling of I just drank a bottle of wine. Crossing her legs while sitting on the ground, she works to clear her mind and focus on her sense of self, her soul, her spirit, her mind. Then she extends that sense to her connections in this world; her family, her teams past and present, her chosen family at the Cactus People Farm.
When she opens her eyes, it's night time again and she feels refreshed. "Channel 2 sounds good right about now." Minerva clicks on the tube just in time to catch , the show where contestants take on various obstacle courses against and sometimes in padded combat with the toughest, muscliest, oiliest, prettiest mercs around. Her money was on Phasor.
After a raucous evening full of on screen hijinx, it was time for bed. This time, she made sure to get under the sheets.
Out on the Farm
Minerva gets geared up for a mission. You never know what'll happen. Donning her ever-present Stalker Suit under her Viper Ride Armor, her Chest Rig over that and draping it all in her magical Cloak of Protection. For weapons, she brings her usual full loadout. She hops on her Road Boss Combat Chopper and drives North. Outside of MercTown, the road becomes much less welcoming but it's nothing the biker hasn't experienced before. This is where she felt most at home, on the road with the wind passing over her helmet, forest speeding by. let her know, she was on the right track.
Arriving to the Real Cactus Ranch in , just under an hour later at 1053 hours, it was obvious that something was wrong, as no one was milling about. "Hello?" Minerva called from astride her motorcycle. She cut the engine and began walking up the ramp to the main building's door. Her sixth sense not activating, she walks in without turning on her force field. "Ambrose? Beatrice? Myron? Agatha?" She doesn't see or hear any of them in the main building.
Miss Minerva, is that you? Yes! Is that Prue? I thought I heard that loud bike of yours. Come to the barn quickly. There isn't much time. Not much time? I'll be right there, Prue.
Minerva activates her telekinetic flight and launches herself through the air toward the barn, almost ripping the doors off the hinges when she barges through. She has one hand on her blaster ready to take down whoever is harassing her people. But as it turns out, it is the exact opposite. waved Minerva over to watch from a slight distance as breathes in and out rapidly while paces back and forth nervously. The rest of the Cactus People from Real Cactus Ranch are there, offering their support. Winnifred has a large bulb on her stomach that seems to be getting lower to the ground with every second. Mortimer's nervousness gets the best of him and he blurts out "I can't do it! I'm not ready!" The much smaller but more aggressive smacks him around a couple of times and says "Now see heeya, see! Ain't no takin back what's been done, see? You're gonna do it and you're gonna like it, see?" Minerva watches, not wishing to interfere with this important moment for the cactus people. Winnifred gasps as the bulb attached to her stomach lands in a pile of hay on the ground. She looks to Mortimer as does the silent rest of the room. Mortimer lowers his head and walks over to the pile of hay. Together, Winnifred and Mortimer pick up the bulb and start making something close to a bird noise as best Minerva can guess. The petals of the bulb begin to unfurl, revealing a tiny Cactus Baby. The cooing noise from the parents continues for minutes to welcome it into the world. When it stops, Winnifred takes it and turns it to the gathered crowd. "I would like to introduce you all to the newest addition to our family... !" Minerva hangs back and watches as the Cactus People all approach and lightly brush the forehead of the newborn with their hands. Once everyone is done, Winnifred locks eyes with Minerva. "I said all, Miss Minerva. Come say hi to your new niece." Minerva smiles and approaches. She takes off her helmet and her gloves, making sure the newborn can see her face as she brushes its head with her hand. "There. Now she'll always know who you are. Thank you for being here. I must go take care of my new baby!" All smiles, Minerva gives Winnifred a gentle kiss on the forehead and then lets the new mother go do her thing.
Finding Prue on her way out, Minerva checks in. "Everything going smoothly here? Do you need anything?" She gets her status report and takes note of anything they may need that she can bring back herself or hire someone to truck out for them. That being done, she heads back home and relaxes for the rest of the day.
Askin All Them Questions
"So, what is there to know about my mysterious savior from Planet Whatzit, Amber? Tell me some Amber stories and I will share with you some Minerva stories." Minerva was good at being straightforward and good at sparring, so doing both at the same time was child's play for her. The bokken they used for practice was a poor stand in for a psi-blade but much less deadly. With every parry, feint, lunge, slash and stab, the two learned more about the capabilities of their teammate. With every question, they learned more about the soul of their teammate.
"How long have you been in MercTown?"
"Have you run with any other crews besides this?"
"What's the best meal in MercTown?"
"Is Susan always like that?"
"Anyone else I know been a part of this team?"
She'll spar for as long as her opponent wishes and then hopefully go grab a bite to eat before retiring back to their place for some relaxation.
"Hello, my name is Grace Minerva and I would like to purchase a home. This one." Minerva to her first choice of home, a larger than average home smack between the Mystic Medicine Clinic and the Mage's Guild. If that one isn't available to her, she offers two more choices. Second choice being between Magic Missives and Armstrong-Bennett TW Shop at the Southeast corner of the Guild. Third choice is between Bubble Bubble Enlightenment Theatre and Uncommon Knowledge, along the west side of the Guild. When asked why she wants to live in the Mystic Quarter, she replies "I've never felt safer than surrounded by wizards and mystics. A woman can never be too safe, yeah?" If the housing meets her requirements of two floors, a small garden, a patio overlooking the pyramid, 2+ bed/bathrooms, spacious living room, modern kitchen, garage and comes with state of the art security, she's willing to pay between 500K to 1.25M for a residence.
Once her options are laid out for her, she chooses her best option and signs the paperwork to finalize.
Move it!
"Yes, you can place that box down there. No, I don't know when the plumbers are arriving. Yes, you can have a water, they're in the fridge." Who knew hiring movers would be so much work?! Minerva watches carefully as "Big Brother and the Moving Company" hauled in box after box of items from her previous residence at the M.A.R.S. HQ to her new digs.
"Hey! Watch your horns, I'm gonna have to get that plaster redone." Can someone put a hard hat on the minotaur? For shame!
For an entire day, she watches and directs as large D-bees bring her boxes in and leave them in rooms based on some markings on a piece of tape. I can unpack tomorrow. Let's put the bed together and then get in it. Minerva uses her Super Telekinesis to pick up the various pieces of her mahogany bed frame and assemble them. Next she lifts her mega-foam mattress onto it. Then she manually places the 600 thread count silk sheets down, fitted then top. Pillows in their cases are placed at the head of the bed and then the fluffy duvet to finish it off. Minerva is so tired that she falls onto the bed and passes out for a full night's sleep.
So many shelves in this room
In the morning, Minerva wakes up face down in her sheets. Ay, mierda. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she gets up out of bed and heads downstairs. "Boxes everywhere. I'd better get started." Using telekinesis, Minerva begins opening boxes, lifting items out and floating them to their final destinations. Vases, clothing, and various knick-knacks land where they belong. After an hour of unpacking, Minerva comes to a realization. "I have no kitchenware. Or food. I must to shopping."
Supermarket Sweep!
"Carrots are how much?!" Minerva almost stumbles backwards over her cart recoiling at the price tag in front of her. "No. Change of plans." She puts the bunch of carrots back on the shelf and heads to grab some potatoes, onions and celery. A large steak, some salt and pepper, olive oil, rosemary, thyme. A few 12 packs of soda, a bottle of orange juice and a container of milk. Oatmeal, bagels, butter. OK now for kitchenwares. She picks up a saute pan, 5 sets of forks/knives/spoons, kitchen towels, a spatula, two bottle openers, a pair of tongs, a kitchen knife set and an apron.
At the checkstand, she is aware of the clerk eyeing the sheer amount of items she's placed on the belt. "Just bought my own place! I must stock it well, no?" She receives a accompanied with "I work for 60 credits a day so my brother doesn't get taken off life support at the State Hospital." Minerva is and completes her check out experience in silence. Well that was unpleasant. I can hear you. Madre de Dios! Puedo hablar español. Minerva hurriedly picks up her bags and heads back to her new house.
Spending time to put all the food and cookware items away, she wipes her brow and leans against her counter. "A hard day's work and I now have a kitchen!" She looks at the potatoes and the celery and then at her phone. "I should just order pizza tonight."
Picking up her phone, Minerva dials the listing for Old Grandad's Pizza. "One Eight Hundred P I Z Z A 4 U. Hello? Hi, yes. My name is Grace and I'd like to order two pizzas. One with all the peppers, yes that one too. And one with piña and jalapeño. Yes, I understand that piña is rare on... can't go on? What do you mean, can't? Ugh, just give me the first one and a pepperoni. I'm at 715 Dragonfly Blvd. OK, see you shortly." She waits around until the driver arrives, takes the pizza and gives him a 10% tip. No piña, bad tip. She kicks her feet up on her couch, opens a bottle of Quebec Riesling and chows down.
Feelin' Myself
"Ugh... vino. Demasiada pizza." She wakes up on her couch as the sun passes through her curtains and splashes her face. Surrounded a ¾ eaten pizza and a fully drunk bottle of wine, she sighs. OK, time to clean up.
She pops off the couch and gets to cleaning up her weak attempt at debauchery last night. Once the pizza is put away and the bottle disposed of, she decides It's time to relax until this feeling goes away. The feeling of I just drank a bottle of wine. Crossing her legs while sitting on the ground, she works to clear her mind and focus on her sense of self, her soul, her spirit, her mind. Then she extends that sense to her connections in this world; her family, her teams past and present, her chosen family at the Cactus People Farm.
When she opens her eyes, it's night time again and she feels refreshed. "Channel 2 sounds good right about now." Minerva clicks on the tube just in time to catch , the show where contestants take on various obstacle courses against and sometimes in padded combat with the toughest, muscliest, oiliest, prettiest mercs around. Her money was on Phasor.
After a raucous evening full of on screen hijinx, it was time for bed. This time, she made sure to get under the sheets.
Out on the Farm
Minerva gets geared up for a mission. You never know what'll happen. Donning her ever-present Stalker Suit under her Viper Ride Armor, her Chest Rig over that and draping it all in her magical Cloak of Protection. For weapons, she brings her usual full loadout. She hops on her Road Boss Combat Chopper and drives North. Outside of MercTown, the road becomes much less welcoming but it's nothing the biker hasn't experienced before. This is where she felt most at home, on the road with the wind passing over her helmet, forest speeding by. let her know, she was on the right track.
Arriving to the Real Cactus Ranch in , just under an hour later at 1053 hours, it was obvious that something was wrong, as no one was milling about. "Hello?" Minerva called from astride her motorcycle. She cut the engine and began walking up the ramp to the main building's door. Her sixth sense not activating, she walks in without turning on her force field. "Ambrose? Beatrice? Myron? Agatha?" She doesn't see or hear any of them in the main building.
Miss Minerva, is that you? Yes! Is that Prue? I thought I heard that loud bike of yours. Come to the barn quickly. There isn't much time. Not much time? I'll be right there, Prue.
Minerva activates her telekinetic flight and launches herself through the air toward the barn, almost ripping the doors off the hinges when she barges through. She has one hand on her blaster ready to take down whoever is harassing her people. But as it turns out, it is the exact opposite. waved Minerva over to watch from a slight distance as breathes in and out rapidly while paces back and forth nervously. The rest of the Cactus People from Real Cactus Ranch are there, offering their support. Winnifred has a large bulb on her stomach that seems to be getting lower to the ground with every second. Mortimer's nervousness gets the best of him and he blurts out "I can't do it! I'm not ready!" The much smaller but more aggressive smacks him around a couple of times and says "Now see heeya, see! Ain't no takin back what's been done, see? You're gonna do it and you're gonna like it, see?" Minerva watches, not wishing to interfere with this important moment for the cactus people. Winnifred gasps as the bulb attached to her stomach lands in a pile of hay on the ground. She looks to Mortimer as does the silent rest of the room. Mortimer lowers his head and walks over to the pile of hay. Together, Winnifred and Mortimer pick up the bulb and start making something close to a bird noise as best Minerva can guess. The petals of the bulb begin to unfurl, revealing a tiny Cactus Baby. The cooing noise from the parents continues for minutes to welcome it into the world. When it stops, Winnifred takes it and turns it to the gathered crowd. "I would like to introduce you all to the newest addition to our family... !" Minerva hangs back and watches as the Cactus People all approach and lightly brush the forehead of the newborn with their hands. Once everyone is done, Winnifred locks eyes with Minerva. "I said all, Miss Minerva. Come say hi to your new niece." Minerva smiles and approaches. She takes off her helmet and her gloves, making sure the newborn can see her face as she brushes its head with her hand. "There. Now she'll always know who you are. Thank you for being here. I must go take care of my new baby!" All smiles, Minerva gives Winnifred a gentle kiss on the forehead and then lets the new mother go do her thing.
Finding Prue on her way out, Minerva checks in. "Everything going smoothly here? Do you need anything?" She gets her status report and takes note of anything they may need that she can bring back herself or hire someone to truck out for them. That being done, she heads back home and relaxes for the rest of the day.
Askin All Them Questions
"So, what is there to know about my mysterious savior from Planet Whatzit, Amber? Tell me some Amber stories and I will share with you some Minerva stories." Minerva was good at being straightforward and good at sparring, so doing both at the same time was child's play for her. The bokken they used for practice was a poor stand in for a psi-blade but much less deadly. With every parry, feint, lunge, slash and stab, the two learned more about the capabilities of their teammate. With every question, they learned more about the soul of their teammate.
"How long have you been in MercTown?"
"Have you run with any other crews besides this?"
"What's the best meal in MercTown?"
"Is Susan always like that?"
"Anyone else I know been a part of this team?"
She'll spar for as long as her opponent wishes and then hopefully go grab a bite to eat before retiring back to their place for some relaxation.
For Amber
Grace Minerva
Ledger
Ledger
- I.S.P.: 390
- H.P.: 109
- S.D.C.: 177
- M.D.C.: 286 (during Supernatural Transformation)
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Calamity John
- Diamond Level Patron
- Posts: 70
- Joined: Tue Sep 18, 2018 8:59 am
Re: Downtime: Writing Challenge
Meeting in a Smoky Backroom
John eventually makes contact with and meets the local capo Ted Dutcher in the back of an Old Grandad’s Pizza. Ted always makes it hard to track him for outsiders, holding court in a different Black Market held establishment every day.
”Well if it isn’t our southern wanderer. How are the open plains?” The capo always has an expensive cigar burning, even if he’s rarely smoking with it and more that its a disposable conductor’s wand.
John takes a seat at the unspoken invitation to speak. ”Came from up north this time, actually. Kind of a shitshow in Lazlo. I was chasing a deal, didn’t make it. Thought I was landing a Glitter Boy.”
John then proceeds to report on his dealings with Brock and the rest of the Lazlo Black Market.
John asks his question. ”What do you know about a mercenary outfit going under the title of GIRLS of MercTown?”
Ted waves his cigar dismissively. ”They been around a while. Little Kitty Kat, a friend of ours who always paid her dues helped set up the operation, so we were playing hands-off with them as a professional courtesy. They did some big ticket biz back in the day, Kitty Kat was a solid merc with a record by then. But Little Kitty Kat ain’t shown up in a year. Not to me, not to the gates, not to her momma’s house. If you’re doing business with them, figure out what happened to my pet.”*
”Well, what’s left of them and some other group just founded a new one called Horizon that’s moving into the GIRLS Compound. Can we keep them hands off for now? They were my best customers in Lazlo. I might be able to figure out what happened to your girl if I have time to show my worth to these guys.”
”You’re always a reliable earner, I’m sure you will have no problems. Thanks for the news from up north.” The cue for dismissal has been given.
”Anytime, capo. I’ll make sure to ask about your girl.”
John makes sure to pay the consigliare his 10% dues for anything he’s earned in MercTown on his way out. He will make mention to the consigliare that he may need a referral to the ‘loan department’ soon.
Greasing the Palms
John’s got associates in town. Between shopping trips he makes sure to stop and make time for each of them.
-Bao Cheng gets a whole case of the noodles the Celestial Dragon uses. If he has time and this Horizon group is all together, John also makes sure to order delivery for the whole group from them on his dime and tip Bao at least 100% so Bao remembers where John’s working now. (220 in foodstuffs, an 1000 credit maximum food allotment and tip combined)
-Fenrick gets a few boxes of the cookies that rot his teeth out but the fence loves. He gets the least because he is getting the most business this trip. (60 in foodstuffs)
-Bart Longfellow gets a few cases of Allen’s Soda and some soda water for backing his drinks. He mentions to Bart his association with a group who could do the right job for the right price. (160 in foodstuffs)
-Vannick and his girls get the most individual attention, if not the most money. Each of the girls gets some chocolate, and Vannick gets some cash ($300 NGMI in 20s) and a reminder of his standing offer to replace the Greenskins shakedown with another choice. John could buy him out and keep Vannick on as a manager making more than he is now and John comes with a level of his own protection. ($300 NGMI, up to 200 in foodstuffs depending on staffing levels)
-Roach gets a case of some chips, a case of toilet paper if John found any, and some shop talk about gangs up north. The Greenskins are looking for a new place to call home, John knows. He hopes Vannick caves on his offer before the Greenskins fall apart completely. (100 in foodstuffs, 50 in dry goods, possibly)
-Rex also gets a restock of mixers and sodas from John and word from the north. If John heard about any death cults or the other shit Rex is into up north, he clues Rex in. (160 in foodstuffs)
-The other gang members- Ricky, Jace, and McGee get pretty small favors in comparison to the operators of establishments, but they get a little walking around money and some samples of whatever new stuff Allen Foods is pushing. ($40 NGMI, 40 in foodstuffs each, 120 NGMI 120 in foodstuffs total)
Measuring the Drapes and Asking Questions
Should John catch Susan, Amber or Minerva in the GIRLS Hangar at any point, John will interrogate them gently.
”All this open space isn’t getting used much I see. Mind if I stock some stable inventory here?” John will drone on for a while about the kind of deal he can get on pasta in bulk for a while to catch his interrogee off guard when he slips in this little number.
”So it turns out one of my associates was a founder of the old group who had this hangar. But she went missing. Do you know what happened to a girl from the Warrens named Kat or Kate or Kitty?”
John will see what sort of use he can get out of a real bulk deal from Allens Foods and some Black Market weapons contacts with spare time permitting. If John got a solid lead about Kat Porter's whereabouts, he has a whole new song and dance routine to go through to see the boss again.
Starting an Operation
Also with enough time and some money, John will get some hirelings to run his regular operation to Pecos and back for him. The Merchant has a hunch his well-traveled trails and regular stops are a thing of the past and would go to waste if he didn’t use his knowledge to set up an operation.**
*Just some fluff and history about my old character Kat Porter. Only Susan ever met her.
**This is John wanting to start his first Black Market business with his class ability. One general merchant, one weapons dealer. As a second option for the second business, John would happily take over Flesh Peddlers. But I’m angling for that to be one awarded for role-playing.
John eventually makes contact with and meets the local capo Ted Dutcher in the back of an Old Grandad’s Pizza. Ted always makes it hard to track him for outsiders, holding court in a different Black Market held establishment every day.
”Well if it isn’t our southern wanderer. How are the open plains?” The capo always has an expensive cigar burning, even if he’s rarely smoking with it and more that its a disposable conductor’s wand.
John takes a seat at the unspoken invitation to speak. ”Came from up north this time, actually. Kind of a shitshow in Lazlo. I was chasing a deal, didn’t make it. Thought I was landing a Glitter Boy.”
John then proceeds to report on his dealings with Brock and the rest of the Lazlo Black Market.
John asks his question. ”What do you know about a mercenary outfit going under the title of GIRLS of MercTown?”
Ted waves his cigar dismissively. ”They been around a while. Little Kitty Kat, a friend of ours who always paid her dues helped set up the operation, so we were playing hands-off with them as a professional courtesy. They did some big ticket biz back in the day, Kitty Kat was a solid merc with a record by then. But Little Kitty Kat ain’t shown up in a year. Not to me, not to the gates, not to her momma’s house. If you’re doing business with them, figure out what happened to my pet.”*
”Well, what’s left of them and some other group just founded a new one called Horizon that’s moving into the GIRLS Compound. Can we keep them hands off for now? They were my best customers in Lazlo. I might be able to figure out what happened to your girl if I have time to show my worth to these guys.”
”You’re always a reliable earner, I’m sure you will have no problems. Thanks for the news from up north.” The cue for dismissal has been given.
”Anytime, capo. I’ll make sure to ask about your girl.”
John makes sure to pay the consigliare his 10% dues for anything he’s earned in MercTown on his way out. He will make mention to the consigliare that he may need a referral to the ‘loan department’ soon.
Greasing the Palms
John’s got associates in town. Between shopping trips he makes sure to stop and make time for each of them.
-Bao Cheng gets a whole case of the noodles the Celestial Dragon uses. If he has time and this Horizon group is all together, John also makes sure to order delivery for the whole group from them on his dime and tip Bao at least 100% so Bao remembers where John’s working now. (220 in foodstuffs, an 1000 credit maximum food allotment and tip combined)
-Fenrick gets a few boxes of the cookies that rot his teeth out but the fence loves. He gets the least because he is getting the most business this trip. (60 in foodstuffs)
-Bart Longfellow gets a few cases of Allen’s Soda and some soda water for backing his drinks. He mentions to Bart his association with a group who could do the right job for the right price. (160 in foodstuffs)
-Vannick and his girls get the most individual attention, if not the most money. Each of the girls gets some chocolate, and Vannick gets some cash ($300 NGMI in 20s) and a reminder of his standing offer to replace the Greenskins shakedown with another choice. John could buy him out and keep Vannick on as a manager making more than he is now and John comes with a level of his own protection. ($300 NGMI, up to 200 in foodstuffs depending on staffing levels)
-Roach gets a case of some chips, a case of toilet paper if John found any, and some shop talk about gangs up north. The Greenskins are looking for a new place to call home, John knows. He hopes Vannick caves on his offer before the Greenskins fall apart completely. (100 in foodstuffs, 50 in dry goods, possibly)
-Rex also gets a restock of mixers and sodas from John and word from the north. If John heard about any death cults or the other shit Rex is into up north, he clues Rex in. (160 in foodstuffs)
-The other gang members- Ricky, Jace, and McGee get pretty small favors in comparison to the operators of establishments, but they get a little walking around money and some samples of whatever new stuff Allen Foods is pushing. ($40 NGMI, 40 in foodstuffs each, 120 NGMI 120 in foodstuffs total)
Measuring the Drapes and Asking Questions
Should John catch Susan, Amber or Minerva in the GIRLS Hangar at any point, John will interrogate them gently.
”All this open space isn’t getting used much I see. Mind if I stock some stable inventory here?” John will drone on for a while about the kind of deal he can get on pasta in bulk for a while to catch his interrogee off guard when he slips in this little number.
”So it turns out one of my associates was a founder of the old group who had this hangar. But she went missing. Do you know what happened to a girl from the Warrens named Kat or Kate or Kitty?”
John will see what sort of use he can get out of a real bulk deal from Allens Foods and some Black Market weapons contacts with spare time permitting. If John got a solid lead about Kat Porter's whereabouts, he has a whole new song and dance routine to go through to see the boss again.
Starting an Operation
Also with enough time and some money, John will get some hirelings to run his regular operation to Pecos and back for him. The Merchant has a hunch his well-traveled trails and regular stops are a thing of the past and would go to waste if he didn’t use his knowledge to set up an operation.**
*Just some fluff and history about my old character Kat Porter. Only Susan ever met her.
**This is John wanting to start his first Black Market business with his class ability. One general merchant, one weapons dealer. As a second option for the second business, John would happily take over Flesh Peddlers. But I’m angling for that to be one awarded for role-playing.
Re: Downtime: Writing Challenge
Susan spends her first day back coming down from the boing-go, basically unconscious.
When she wakes up, she stows her gear, puts the babies in their chargers and has a soothing cup of tea, while looking out over the interior space of the hangar.
Then she returns to her impromptu lab, where she spends a full hour staring at the sample of liquid 8 in its test tube. "Well, old friend. I believe it may be time for us to become better acquainted."
Since liquid 8 has been apparently contained by the hypertensile plastic of the test tube, Susan begins by building a multi-layer containment system using the same material along with some hypertensile glass and emergency drop shutters of ironwood lined with dinosaur hide.
"What kind of destructive measures do you think we need to keep you safe?" she says. "Explosives? High magnetic fields?" Susan taps her chin, thinking. "Lasers?"
She starts by putting in a mount and remote trigger for her laser rifle, pointed directly at the test tube. "You're right, Eight. I should get a psi sword and some kind of magic countermeasures. We'll just have to take this slow, but I believe you won't mind that."
"And electricity!" she adds. "Yes, some kind of electrical field. All very good."
Over the next few days she gets a high magnetic pulse field installed and an electrical countermeasure inside a faraday cage around the room. Realizing she knows little about magic, she asks Minerva and Amber about what they would do to destroy a contained technological entity.
Then she makes a trip to as many techno-wizards as she can find in the phonebook. Ultimately, she settles on teleportation into space rather than a contained Annihilate spell. "How long will that take to get together? And how much?!?"
Susan sighs. "I suppose I'll need to wait on advanced experiments for a bit. Ah well."
Until she can get truly effective countermeasures in place, Susan limits herself to passive tests, scanning liquid 8 to try to determine its molecular makeup, whether it emits radio waves or responds to them, and generally gain as much information about it as possible.
After a week of this, Susan realizes she may be spending too much time alone and calls Sgt. Harrison. "Hey... MAMA..." she says into the telephone. "Do you want to, uh, get coffee and talk about lady things like doing science and solving crimes?"
Assuming Sgt. Harrison does, Susan will try to learn and remember her name as they enjoy coffee - in Susan's case, SO MUCH coffee. Susan will also gossip over the details of their most recent adventure in ways that match their official lie to the Naruni.
When John asks about Kat, she says, "Who? Do you mean Commander Jezebel? She just disappeared one day."
When she wakes up, she stows her gear, puts the babies in their chargers and has a soothing cup of tea, while looking out over the interior space of the hangar.
Then she returns to her impromptu lab, where she spends a full hour staring at the sample of liquid 8 in its test tube. "Well, old friend. I believe it may be time for us to become better acquainted."
Since liquid 8 has been apparently contained by the hypertensile plastic of the test tube, Susan begins by building a multi-layer containment system using the same material along with some hypertensile glass and emergency drop shutters of ironwood lined with dinosaur hide.
"What kind of destructive measures do you think we need to keep you safe?" she says. "Explosives? High magnetic fields?" Susan taps her chin, thinking. "Lasers?"
She starts by putting in a mount and remote trigger for her laser rifle, pointed directly at the test tube. "You're right, Eight. I should get a psi sword and some kind of magic countermeasures. We'll just have to take this slow, but I believe you won't mind that."
"And electricity!" she adds. "Yes, some kind of electrical field. All very good."
Over the next few days she gets a high magnetic pulse field installed and an electrical countermeasure inside a faraday cage around the room. Realizing she knows little about magic, she asks Minerva and Amber about what they would do to destroy a contained technological entity.
Then she makes a trip to as many techno-wizards as she can find in the phonebook. Ultimately, she settles on teleportation into space rather than a contained Annihilate spell. "How long will that take to get together? And how much?!?"
Susan sighs. "I suppose I'll need to wait on advanced experiments for a bit. Ah well."
Until she can get truly effective countermeasures in place, Susan limits herself to passive tests, scanning liquid 8 to try to determine its molecular makeup, whether it emits radio waves or responds to them, and generally gain as much information about it as possible.
After a week of this, Susan realizes she may be spending too much time alone and calls Sgt. Harrison. "Hey... MAMA..." she says into the telephone. "Do you want to, uh, get coffee and talk about lady things like doing science and solving crimes?"
Assuming Sgt. Harrison does, Susan will try to learn and remember her name as they enjoy coffee - in Susan's case, SO MUCH coffee. Susan will also gossip over the details of their most recent adventure in ways that match their official lie to the Naruni.
Susan raises an eyebrow - "Stable inventory, like horses?"Calamity John wrote: ↑Wed Jul 24, 2024 6:40 pm Should John catch Susan, Amber or Minerva in the GIRLS Hangar at any point, John will interrogate them gently.
”All this open space isn’t getting used much I see. Mind if I stock some stable inventory here?” John will drone on for a while about the kind of deal he can get on pasta in bulk for a while to catch his interrogee off guard when he slips in this little number.
”So it turns out one of my associates was a founder of the old group who had this hangar. But she went missing. Do you know what happened to a girl from the Warrens named Kat or Kate or Kitty?”
John will see what sort of use he can get out of a real bulk deal from Allens Foods and some Black Market weapons contacts with spare time permitting. If John got a solid lead about Kat Porter's whereabouts, he has a whole new song and dance routine to go through to see the boss again.
When John asks about Kat, she says, "Who? Do you mean Commander Jezebel? She just disappeared one day."
-
Amber Dach
- Silver Level Patron
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Sun Mar 29, 2020 9:50 am
Re: Downtime: Writing Challenge
Sparring with Minerva
The atmosphere in the Hangar was electric, a fusion of raw energy and purpose. A combination of exhaust fumes, oil, gas, hydraulic fluid, and solvents was in the air, while overhead fluorescent lights cast stark shadows shimmering across the hangar floor. In the center of this organized chaos, Minerva and I stood facing each other, our bokkens raised, ready to clash.
I had taken a step back from the visceral battles in the field to cultivate the minds and skills of those who came into our fold. Minerva was new to the group but experienced, her dark eyes flickering with curiosity as she circled me, her movements sharp and agile. The first strike came flying towards my shoulder; I deflected it easily, countering with a swift jab to her midsection that she barely managed to parry.
“So, how long have you been in MercTown?” she puffed, resetting her stance.
“Only a few months,” I replied, stepping back to create space again, circling her cautiously. “I spent years fighting the minions of Nxla up North. But it wore on me, the grinding pressure to swallow more of my soul with every battle. I needed a change of scenery, something fresh.” I delivered a flicking side strike that she dodged just in time.
Minerva nodded, understanding there was more lurking beneath those words, though she didn't pry. “What’s the best meal in MercTown?” A textbook sparring question, keep the conversation light, distract the opponent, but her eyes glinted with genuine interest.
A smile broke through my concentration. “Ah, that would have to be the Taste of the Town! Incredible atmosphere, even better food. But you know the best meal I’ve had recently? It was in Manoa. Hands down, it reminded me of home, of the bustling markets, the sights and smells." I swung low, and her footwork danced backwards, avoiding my strike. “It was the kind of meal that sings in your mouth, filling the corners of your memory with warmth.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she said with a certain wistfulness. “It’s hard to imagine home when you’re here, surrounded by all this.” She gestured to the collection of vehicles and equipment inside our hangar.
I nodded, feeling the weight of my own nostalgia. “It is,” I admitted, giving her a moment to absorb the sentiment. “But home isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling. That’s one reason I came here, to forge new memories.”
Her eyes light up. She was not just here for the thrill, but perhaps for purpose as well. “So, is Susan always like that?”
I couldn't help but chuckle. “Susan is… unique. You’ll see that once you get to know her. She has a specific way of viewing the world, you know? Always coming up with interesting solutions to problems we face, even if they leave us scratching our heads half the time.”
Minerva smiled, considering this. “Sounds like the kind of person who can keep things interesting.”
“Yeah, that she does.” I drove my bokken toward her with force, and she blocked it just in time, still grinning. “She’s a real woman of science. I don't know what drives her yet, but her curiosity is infectious.”
With a newfound determination, Minerva pushed back, a flurry of strikes aimed at my left. I danced out of the way, feeling my heart race with the joy of sparring. “Anyone else I know been a part of this team?”
“Hmm, not sure if you knew Jezebel. She was team leader before me,” I explained, parrying her thrusts and countering with a few of my own. “She disappeared on a mission not too long ago. Just… vanished. There was only her beat-up robot left behind, like a ghost haunting the Hangar. Business as usual.”
Minerva’s brow furrowed slightly, she could sense it was deeper than just a loss. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
A pang of nostalgia brushed against my heart, but I shook it off. “Yeah. It’s the mercenary life. People come and go. We adapt or not, but we carry their stories with us.” I swung low again, hoping to guide her back into the present moment, away from the shadows the past had cast.
“Annie… Analoy was with us for a while. There was Megan Price, James, and some other people I barely got to know before they drifted away,” I continued, guiding my bokken in a series of fluid moves, testing her defenses. “That’s the thing about this life, the only constants are change and the chaos of survival. You're going to find your place here.”
The rhythm of our strikes amplified with each question, each answer—a sort of verbal dance amidst the choreography of combat. “What about you?” Minerva asked, breathless but eager, eyes flicking over the gleaming steel of my weapon. “What keeps you alive in all this?”
I paused mid-strike, contemplating her earnest question. “People like you,” I finally answered, bringing my bokken to a rest. “The fire you carry to grow, to learn, and to survive. It reminds me of who I used to be and who I want to inspire.”
In that moment, her posture shifted; the challenge was gone, and I could sense determination radiating from her. “Then let’s reignite that fire,” she declared, raising her bokken once more. “Let’s see who we really are in this mess.”
With a renewed vigor, we clashed again, the room echoing with the sound of our practice. Not just two fighters on a Hangar floor, but two women forging their destinies amidst the chaos of MercTown, each breath laced with the promise of new beginnings. In our sparring, we were not only learning— we were creating the future, one strike at a time.
The Bookstore
I sat in the corner café, the soft hum of the late afternoon buzzing around me like an electric current. Each sip of my tea calmed me, the warmth spreading through my body, while a flaky pastry danced on my taste buds. My fingers were stained with crumbs, but I didn’t mind. This sanctuary was my brief escape from the relentless pace of my life as Amber, leader of the Horizon Group.
With my trusty data-pad perched on the table like a faithful guard, I glanced over my to-do list, that digital beacon of the demands I couldn’t outrun. "New weapons.” John’s on the case. I mumbled to myself, checking it off with a flick of my finger. “Trip to the Crimson Dragon.” Another tick. “Vehicle?” I need to check out the lots in the dock district yet. “Find a new contract.” I should head to the JMC and see what Fixer has. Maybe I should see if he knows and operator to do some work for me too while I’m there.
Sighing heavily I glanced out the window at the bustling streets of Merctown, neon signs flickering like stars in the twilight, reminding me of the life outside my duties. How long had it been since I did something for just me?
Tired of the grind, I sighed and turned my gaze back to the café’s rustic wooden decor. It was charming, really, with the scent of freshly brewed tea and the sound of laughter from other patrons mingling in the air. Yet, beneath that charm, I felt an aching void, a yearning for something more than blaster fire and contracts. That’s when my eyes caught sight of the store across the street: First Edition Books, a small, cozy haven for literary souls. At that moment, it seemed to shimmer with promise.
I stood up, placing my holo-pad down, purpose igniting within me. I needed this, an escape into the worlds crafted by others, knowledge I could wield just like my sword, and a chance to soften my edges just a little. I stepped out of the café and crossed the street, the neon glow fading behind me, replaced by the warm glow of the bookshop’s window.
The door creaked as I stepped inside, and an intense silence enveloped me, punctuated only by the soft rustling of pages. The scent of aged paper filled the air, wrapping around me like an embrace. Rows of books towered over me, each one a potential adventure, echoing whispers of countless authors. I felt a surge of hope. Perhaps this was the balm I needed to soothe my weary spirit.
I wandered into the cooking section first, my mind racing with ideas of flavors, spices, and culinary escapades, worlds apart from the mundane tasks that filled my days. I thumbed through a series of Spanish cookbooks. Flavors of España: A Culinary Journey. Tapas & Traditions: Small Plates of Spain. Savory Spain: Hearty Recipes from Every Region. Olive Oil & Adventure: A Spanish Cooking Guide. A smile curled on my lips, imagining myself crafting sumptuous meals after long battles, meals worthy of camaraderie around a flickering campfire under twinkling stars.
Next, I ventured toward the meditation section, shifting my focus from sustenance to serenity. There, nestled between titles like "Mindfulness in the Age of Cybernetics" and "The Art of Zen in a Chaotic Universe," I found a small blue tome: “Simplicity: Finding Peace Within the Storm.” The cover was unassuming, but I felt an unshakeable pull toward it, as though the universe had conspired to place it in my hands.
Finally, I dug into the classics. Titles leaped out at me, A Tale of Two Cities. Nineteen Eighty-Four. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, all names that shaped the very fabric of our understanding of humanity, what it meant to dream and explore. My eyes rested on a nearly pristine edition of "The Lord of the Rings," its spine intact, promising a journey to a world a tale of companionship and the battle between good and evil. I couldn’t resist; it called to the knight in me.
As I reached the checkout counter, the shopkeeper—a bespectacled woman with a warmth that rivaled the sun—smiled knowingly. "A diverse collection, wouldn’t you say?" she said as she scanned my chosen books. “Cooking for the body, meditation for the mind, and classics for the soul.”
I chuckled softly. “I suppose I’m seeking balance among maybe too many battles.”
“Life has a way of reminding us to nourish all parts of ourselves, even amidst the chaos of our duties,” she replied. I nodded, her words settling deep within me.
With my treasure trove of books in hand, I stepped back into the street, invigorated by the promise of what lay ahead. In my heart, I knew I was still Amber, the mercenary knight, but for now, I was also a seeker, ready to explore the layers of life beyond the sword. The battle might never truly end, but in small moments like this, I could at least reclaim a piece of myself—one tea, one pastry, and one book at a time.
The Cooking Class
The flickering neon sign outside read “Café Aux Étoiles,” a hidden gem I had found nestled in a corner of the Spokes. Its entrance was narrow, flanked by ivy-covered brick walls that shimmered with the reflection of the nearby skyline. Beyond those doors, a warm, fragrant space awaited, filled with the tang of freshly chopped herbs and the comforting hum of sizzling pans.
I stepped inside, my senses alive with smells and sounds of the kitchen. The culinary class had recently become my outlet. The trip not so long ago to Manoa, inspired me to look back to my culinary roots and my maternal grandmother, Calla’s influence on me. I remembered her making us meals of the highest order and showing brilliant mastery of culinary techniques. And now, here I was, attempting to grasp remnants of her talent while wielding nothing heavier than a chef's knife.
I looked around the small kitchen as clusters of students slowly gathered, their nervous energy palpable. Each was armed with utensils in place of weapons, and the faint sound of discussion blended with the sizzling of garlic in butter from the back. A live holo-screen displayed Chef Norah Penzero, our instructor for the evening, who materialized before us with her trademark love of theatrics.
“Welcome to tonight’s class!” she exclaimed; her voice filled with contagious enthusiasm. “Tonight, we are recreating one of my signature dishes! Are you all ready for a culinary adventure?”
I felt warmth spread through the room, a palpable connection forged not only with my classmates but with my inner self. Her laughter echoed in my mind as I thought of her in the kitchen, orchestrating flavors like a conductor leading an orchestra. Her passion for cooking was infectious, turning even the most mundane ingredient into a masterpiece.
“Amber! Let’s get cooking!” shouted Chef Norah, snapping me back into the present. She had always been our cheerleader, wearing her heart as openly as her apron. With a swift motion, she picked up a knife and gestured for us to do the same.
Ahead, I was reminded of the bustling atmosphere, filled with anticipation of shared success mingling with the unmistakable aroma of sautéed vegetables. I glanced down at my station: fresh produce, an immaculate cutting board, and a sparkling chef's knife. A few breaths steadied my heart.
As we started dicing bell peppers and mincing garlic, I could feel the thrill of chopping merge with the excitement in the air. My skills were unrefined compared to some of my fellow classmates, and yet, this felt different. This was no battlefield; this was a canvas.
Time slipped away like water through my fingers as we progressed to the main event—a creamy saffron risotto featuring scallops. Chef Norah emphasized the importance of patience while stirring the rice slowly, coaxing forth the flavors with each turn of the spoon. I could hear Norah’s words, reminding me to nurture the dish as a guardian nurtures their charge.
Suddenly, Chef Norah called for volunteers to taste-test a dish that had just been plated. My heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. “I’ll try!” I exclaimed, closing in on a beautifully crafted plate that shimmered under the lights.
Upon tasting the delicate balance of flavours, the rush of emotion hit me like a tidal wave. The experience was transcendent; it brought me close to my grandmother’s spirit, a reminder of mornings and afternoons spent with her in the kitchen, the laughter melding with the aromas of spices. I could almost see her standing there, nodding in approval, trapped in time amidst the sizzle of pans and clinking of glasses.
As I stepped back from the station, the class continued to whirl around me, each of us contributing our own twist to our families legacy. The sounds of laughter and the satisfaction of a dish well-produced filled the air, cementing the sense of familial warmth that only food could forge.
Towards the end of the class, I caught a moment with Chef Norah. “This is why we do it, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice thick with emotion.
She nodded thoughtfully, a smile dancing on her lips. “Absolutely, Amber. Every time we cook with love and passion, we keep the spirits of our family alive.”
As the evening culminated with our collective creation, my heart swelled with the knowledge that while my family might reside in different dimensions, the kitchen was my home too. It was a place of unity, of tradition, and of homage. And in some small way, with every carefully prepared dish, I found a pathway to keep my family alive in my very own style, where strength met subtlety, and every dish carried a story.
The atmosphere in the Hangar was electric, a fusion of raw energy and purpose. A combination of exhaust fumes, oil, gas, hydraulic fluid, and solvents was in the air, while overhead fluorescent lights cast stark shadows shimmering across the hangar floor. In the center of this organized chaos, Minerva and I stood facing each other, our bokkens raised, ready to clash.
I had taken a step back from the visceral battles in the field to cultivate the minds and skills of those who came into our fold. Minerva was new to the group but experienced, her dark eyes flickering with curiosity as she circled me, her movements sharp and agile. The first strike came flying towards my shoulder; I deflected it easily, countering with a swift jab to her midsection that she barely managed to parry.
“So, how long have you been in MercTown?” she puffed, resetting her stance.
“Only a few months,” I replied, stepping back to create space again, circling her cautiously. “I spent years fighting the minions of Nxla up North. But it wore on me, the grinding pressure to swallow more of my soul with every battle. I needed a change of scenery, something fresh.” I delivered a flicking side strike that she dodged just in time.
Minerva nodded, understanding there was more lurking beneath those words, though she didn't pry. “What’s the best meal in MercTown?” A textbook sparring question, keep the conversation light, distract the opponent, but her eyes glinted with genuine interest.
A smile broke through my concentration. “Ah, that would have to be the Taste of the Town! Incredible atmosphere, even better food. But you know the best meal I’ve had recently? It was in Manoa. Hands down, it reminded me of home, of the bustling markets, the sights and smells." I swung low, and her footwork danced backwards, avoiding my strike. “It was the kind of meal that sings in your mouth, filling the corners of your memory with warmth.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she said with a certain wistfulness. “It’s hard to imagine home when you’re here, surrounded by all this.” She gestured to the collection of vehicles and equipment inside our hangar.
I nodded, feeling the weight of my own nostalgia. “It is,” I admitted, giving her a moment to absorb the sentiment. “But home isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling. That’s one reason I came here, to forge new memories.”
Her eyes light up. She was not just here for the thrill, but perhaps for purpose as well. “So, is Susan always like that?”
I couldn't help but chuckle. “Susan is… unique. You’ll see that once you get to know her. She has a specific way of viewing the world, you know? Always coming up with interesting solutions to problems we face, even if they leave us scratching our heads half the time.”
Minerva smiled, considering this. “Sounds like the kind of person who can keep things interesting.”
“Yeah, that she does.” I drove my bokken toward her with force, and she blocked it just in time, still grinning. “She’s a real woman of science. I don't know what drives her yet, but her curiosity is infectious.”
With a newfound determination, Minerva pushed back, a flurry of strikes aimed at my left. I danced out of the way, feeling my heart race with the joy of sparring. “Anyone else I know been a part of this team?”
“Hmm, not sure if you knew Jezebel. She was team leader before me,” I explained, parrying her thrusts and countering with a few of my own. “She disappeared on a mission not too long ago. Just… vanished. There was only her beat-up robot left behind, like a ghost haunting the Hangar. Business as usual.”
Minerva’s brow furrowed slightly, she could sense it was deeper than just a loss. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
A pang of nostalgia brushed against my heart, but I shook it off. “Yeah. It’s the mercenary life. People come and go. We adapt or not, but we carry their stories with us.” I swung low again, hoping to guide her back into the present moment, away from the shadows the past had cast.
“Annie… Analoy was with us for a while. There was Megan Price, James, and some other people I barely got to know before they drifted away,” I continued, guiding my bokken in a series of fluid moves, testing her defenses. “That’s the thing about this life, the only constants are change and the chaos of survival. You're going to find your place here.”
The rhythm of our strikes amplified with each question, each answer—a sort of verbal dance amidst the choreography of combat. “What about you?” Minerva asked, breathless but eager, eyes flicking over the gleaming steel of my weapon. “What keeps you alive in all this?”
I paused mid-strike, contemplating her earnest question. “People like you,” I finally answered, bringing my bokken to a rest. “The fire you carry to grow, to learn, and to survive. It reminds me of who I used to be and who I want to inspire.”
In that moment, her posture shifted; the challenge was gone, and I could sense determination radiating from her. “Then let’s reignite that fire,” she declared, raising her bokken once more. “Let’s see who we really are in this mess.”
With a renewed vigor, we clashed again, the room echoing with the sound of our practice. Not just two fighters on a Hangar floor, but two women forging their destinies amidst the chaos of MercTown, each breath laced with the promise of new beginnings. In our sparring, we were not only learning— we were creating the future, one strike at a time.
The Bookstore
I sat in the corner café, the soft hum of the late afternoon buzzing around me like an electric current. Each sip of my tea calmed me, the warmth spreading through my body, while a flaky pastry danced on my taste buds. My fingers were stained with crumbs, but I didn’t mind. This sanctuary was my brief escape from the relentless pace of my life as Amber, leader of the Horizon Group.
With my trusty data-pad perched on the table like a faithful guard, I glanced over my to-do list, that digital beacon of the demands I couldn’t outrun. "New weapons.” John’s on the case. I mumbled to myself, checking it off with a flick of my finger. “Trip to the Crimson Dragon.” Another tick. “Vehicle?” I need to check out the lots in the dock district yet. “Find a new contract.” I should head to the JMC and see what Fixer has. Maybe I should see if he knows and operator to do some work for me too while I’m there.
Sighing heavily I glanced out the window at the bustling streets of Merctown, neon signs flickering like stars in the twilight, reminding me of the life outside my duties. How long had it been since I did something for just me?
Tired of the grind, I sighed and turned my gaze back to the café’s rustic wooden decor. It was charming, really, with the scent of freshly brewed tea and the sound of laughter from other patrons mingling in the air. Yet, beneath that charm, I felt an aching void, a yearning for something more than blaster fire and contracts. That’s when my eyes caught sight of the store across the street: First Edition Books, a small, cozy haven for literary souls. At that moment, it seemed to shimmer with promise.
I stood up, placing my holo-pad down, purpose igniting within me. I needed this, an escape into the worlds crafted by others, knowledge I could wield just like my sword, and a chance to soften my edges just a little. I stepped out of the café and crossed the street, the neon glow fading behind me, replaced by the warm glow of the bookshop’s window.
The door creaked as I stepped inside, and an intense silence enveloped me, punctuated only by the soft rustling of pages. The scent of aged paper filled the air, wrapping around me like an embrace. Rows of books towered over me, each one a potential adventure, echoing whispers of countless authors. I felt a surge of hope. Perhaps this was the balm I needed to soothe my weary spirit.
I wandered into the cooking section first, my mind racing with ideas of flavors, spices, and culinary escapades, worlds apart from the mundane tasks that filled my days. I thumbed through a series of Spanish cookbooks. Flavors of España: A Culinary Journey. Tapas & Traditions: Small Plates of Spain. Savory Spain: Hearty Recipes from Every Region. Olive Oil & Adventure: A Spanish Cooking Guide. A smile curled on my lips, imagining myself crafting sumptuous meals after long battles, meals worthy of camaraderie around a flickering campfire under twinkling stars.
Next, I ventured toward the meditation section, shifting my focus from sustenance to serenity. There, nestled between titles like "Mindfulness in the Age of Cybernetics" and "The Art of Zen in a Chaotic Universe," I found a small blue tome: “Simplicity: Finding Peace Within the Storm.” The cover was unassuming, but I felt an unshakeable pull toward it, as though the universe had conspired to place it in my hands.
Finally, I dug into the classics. Titles leaped out at me, A Tale of Two Cities. Nineteen Eighty-Four. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, all names that shaped the very fabric of our understanding of humanity, what it meant to dream and explore. My eyes rested on a nearly pristine edition of "The Lord of the Rings," its spine intact, promising a journey to a world a tale of companionship and the battle between good and evil. I couldn’t resist; it called to the knight in me.
As I reached the checkout counter, the shopkeeper—a bespectacled woman with a warmth that rivaled the sun—smiled knowingly. "A diverse collection, wouldn’t you say?" she said as she scanned my chosen books. “Cooking for the body, meditation for the mind, and classics for the soul.”
I chuckled softly. “I suppose I’m seeking balance among maybe too many battles.”
“Life has a way of reminding us to nourish all parts of ourselves, even amidst the chaos of our duties,” she replied. I nodded, her words settling deep within me.
With my treasure trove of books in hand, I stepped back into the street, invigorated by the promise of what lay ahead. In my heart, I knew I was still Amber, the mercenary knight, but for now, I was also a seeker, ready to explore the layers of life beyond the sword. The battle might never truly end, but in small moments like this, I could at least reclaim a piece of myself—one tea, one pastry, and one book at a time.
The Cooking Class
The flickering neon sign outside read “Café Aux Étoiles,” a hidden gem I had found nestled in a corner of the Spokes. Its entrance was narrow, flanked by ivy-covered brick walls that shimmered with the reflection of the nearby skyline. Beyond those doors, a warm, fragrant space awaited, filled with the tang of freshly chopped herbs and the comforting hum of sizzling pans.
I stepped inside, my senses alive with smells and sounds of the kitchen. The culinary class had recently become my outlet. The trip not so long ago to Manoa, inspired me to look back to my culinary roots and my maternal grandmother, Calla’s influence on me. I remembered her making us meals of the highest order and showing brilliant mastery of culinary techniques. And now, here I was, attempting to grasp remnants of her talent while wielding nothing heavier than a chef's knife.
I looked around the small kitchen as clusters of students slowly gathered, their nervous energy palpable. Each was armed with utensils in place of weapons, and the faint sound of discussion blended with the sizzling of garlic in butter from the back. A live holo-screen displayed Chef Norah Penzero, our instructor for the evening, who materialized before us with her trademark love of theatrics.
“Welcome to tonight’s class!” she exclaimed; her voice filled with contagious enthusiasm. “Tonight, we are recreating one of my signature dishes! Are you all ready for a culinary adventure?”
I felt warmth spread through the room, a palpable connection forged not only with my classmates but with my inner self. Her laughter echoed in my mind as I thought of her in the kitchen, orchestrating flavors like a conductor leading an orchestra. Her passion for cooking was infectious, turning even the most mundane ingredient into a masterpiece.
“Amber! Let’s get cooking!” shouted Chef Norah, snapping me back into the present. She had always been our cheerleader, wearing her heart as openly as her apron. With a swift motion, she picked up a knife and gestured for us to do the same.
Ahead, I was reminded of the bustling atmosphere, filled with anticipation of shared success mingling with the unmistakable aroma of sautéed vegetables. I glanced down at my station: fresh produce, an immaculate cutting board, and a sparkling chef's knife. A few breaths steadied my heart.
As we started dicing bell peppers and mincing garlic, I could feel the thrill of chopping merge with the excitement in the air. My skills were unrefined compared to some of my fellow classmates, and yet, this felt different. This was no battlefield; this was a canvas.
Time slipped away like water through my fingers as we progressed to the main event—a creamy saffron risotto featuring scallops. Chef Norah emphasized the importance of patience while stirring the rice slowly, coaxing forth the flavors with each turn of the spoon. I could hear Norah’s words, reminding me to nurture the dish as a guardian nurtures their charge.
Suddenly, Chef Norah called for volunteers to taste-test a dish that had just been plated. My heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. “I’ll try!” I exclaimed, closing in on a beautifully crafted plate that shimmered under the lights.
Upon tasting the delicate balance of flavours, the rush of emotion hit me like a tidal wave. The experience was transcendent; it brought me close to my grandmother’s spirit, a reminder of mornings and afternoons spent with her in the kitchen, the laughter melding with the aromas of spices. I could almost see her standing there, nodding in approval, trapped in time amidst the sizzle of pans and clinking of glasses.
As I stepped back from the station, the class continued to whirl around me, each of us contributing our own twist to our families legacy. The sounds of laughter and the satisfaction of a dish well-produced filled the air, cementing the sense of familial warmth that only food could forge.
Towards the end of the class, I caught a moment with Chef Norah. “This is why we do it, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice thick with emotion.
She nodded thoughtfully, a smile dancing on her lips. “Absolutely, Amber. Every time we cook with love and passion, we keep the spirits of our family alive.”
As the evening culminated with our collective creation, my heart swelled with the knowledge that while my family might reside in different dimensions, the kitchen was my home too. It was a place of unity, of tradition, and of homage. And in some small way, with every carefully prepared dish, I found a pathway to keep my family alive in my very own style, where strength met subtlety, and every dish carried a story.
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Arvid Hammerson
- Diamond Level Patron
- Posts: 145
- Joined: Mon Mar 14, 2022 10:16 am
- Location: San Antonio, TX
Re: Downtime: Writing Challenge
Downtime Arvid
After the team leaves the Nurani building Jack heads back to the HQ and changes into something that doesn’t look like he is going to war. He puts on his formal clothes and bear skin cape. And leaves all his main weapons home. He heads back to the Merc Plaza and takes the elevator to the 3rd floor, where Northern Gun Corporation, Merctown is located. He walks in and approaches the Receptionist and says, “Hello, I’m Arvid Hammerson, I was hired by Northern Gun. and I am here to report on the last mission. It was about three to four days ago out in the Northwest.”
The receptionist looks at Arvid and is shocked at the person in front of her. She gathers herself together and talks to someone. Over the earpiece, “Yes sir, a mister Arvid Hammerson. Yes! He is the one you were talking about at the wedding. Yes sir, I’ll tell him.” She looks at Arvid and speaks, “Mister Hammerson, someone will be out here. Can I get you a Drink?”
Arvid responds, “Yes water would be nice.”
She comes back with a glass of water. As a door behind her opens and out comes one of the Suits.
Mr. Anderson speaks up offering his hand and a big smile, “Mister Hammerson. I’m Mister Anderson, I was at the wedding. I understand you have some information about what happened in the Northwest. Please come with me.”
He leads him into the inner offices and to a conference room. Where he has Arvid take a seat. Around the table are a couple of people. Mister Anderson speaks, “Mister Hammerson these people are Security and from our home Office. They are going to be accessing the information and relaying it up to the Headquarters.”
Arvid speaks up, “I have a Video Chip with the last days on it. This includes breaking into a vaulted room where there were several guard Robots and a control room. Then it goes to the last day as we went further Northwest. Then the volcano blew, and a mad scramble occurred before the blast hit. Some of us were rifted, as you call it, I believe. The people were Gloriosa, Hemlock and the Dwarf. I know they were alive. All the others I am not sure. My aunt gave me a new assignment. To meet up with a group called Girls. The video ends when I was transported to their place.”
I don’t know about any additional pay if any. But any jobs you may have for us in the future would be appreciated. The Girls changed their names to New Horizons, in the building at the Airport.”
Arvid gets up, then hands them the disk and starts walking out.
Mr. Anderson stands and speaks up, “Thank you Mr. Hammerson. If we need more information, we can get you at the New Horizon offices?”
Arvid turns and adds, “Of course, I just have other things that need to be done, when I have free time, you understand.”
Mr. Anderson then escorts Arvid out past the receptionist, “Thank you, again for the for the information.”
Arvid places the empty glass down at the Receptionist counter and says to her, “Thank you for the glass of water.”
Over his shoulder Arvid says in a loud voice, “You should pay her more.” Then heads to the elevator to go down.
Once outside Gets on His Turbo Board and heads to his next destination, the Mystic Quarter, and Collage and Guild Hall Entrance. Once there he Introduces himself to the guards at the entrance, “I’m Arvid Hammerson and requesting membership to the guild and collage.”
The guards Laugh at the giant of a man, Saying, “Sorry lad you have to be a magic user. By your aura you seem to be just a big non gifted.”
Arvid thinks and responds quickly, ending his adjusted aura.
The guards look again and see the massive glow coming off him as they reply, “Oh, there you go. Sorry sir for the miss interpretation. Your fee is 6000 credits for the year. Arvid Uses his Credit stick that have Universal Credits (Phase World) and fill out forms. As he is doing so a member of the Guild and College show up quickly.
“Your Highness we did not expect you to show up here so quickly.”
Arvid looks a bit confused, and asks, “Your highness? Oh, what is this about.”
Member smiles and replies, “You are Grandson of the God and Ruler of Asgard, Odin are you not?!” Arvid responds with a smile and a short laugh, “Yes, I am Prince of the Realm, but being a prince when Grandfather is the only ruler, and he doesn’t even know how old he is, we usually use the formal titles only when other dignitaries are around. So, it is odd for me to use a title.”
Member “I was sent by Guild Master Cearcy to say we appreciate your applying to the Guild, and he would like to personally greet you. We don’t get representatives as prestigious as yourself.
Arvid is escorted up to Cercy he stands and greets him, “Welcome to the Mystic Quarter. Have a Seat., now I understand your working for the Girls and that is now New Horizons. If you need any help, which I can’t really see happening, we are here. If you need some work, I shall try to swing some your way.”
Avid replies, “Thank you. I have other things that I should do like visit the Temple Districts. Arvid heads to pay his respect to the temple of Light and Darkness and introduces himself. Then to the temple of the four elements. And finally, to the Winds of Fate for a reading on love. He donates 1000 Credits to each.
After the team leaves the Nurani building Jack heads back to the HQ and changes into something that doesn’t look like he is going to war. He puts on his formal clothes and bear skin cape. And leaves all his main weapons home. He heads back to the Merc Plaza and takes the elevator to the 3rd floor, where Northern Gun Corporation, Merctown is located. He walks in and approaches the Receptionist and says, “Hello, I’m Arvid Hammerson, I was hired by Northern Gun. and I am here to report on the last mission. It was about three to four days ago out in the Northwest.”
The receptionist looks at Arvid and is shocked at the person in front of her. She gathers herself together and talks to someone. Over the earpiece, “Yes sir, a mister Arvid Hammerson. Yes! He is the one you were talking about at the wedding. Yes sir, I’ll tell him.” She looks at Arvid and speaks, “Mister Hammerson, someone will be out here. Can I get you a Drink?”
Arvid responds, “Yes water would be nice.”
She comes back with a glass of water. As a door behind her opens and out comes one of the Suits.
Mr. Anderson speaks up offering his hand and a big smile, “Mister Hammerson. I’m Mister Anderson, I was at the wedding. I understand you have some information about what happened in the Northwest. Please come with me.”
He leads him into the inner offices and to a conference room. Where he has Arvid take a seat. Around the table are a couple of people. Mister Anderson speaks, “Mister Hammerson these people are Security and from our home Office. They are going to be accessing the information and relaying it up to the Headquarters.”
Arvid speaks up, “I have a Video Chip with the last days on it. This includes breaking into a vaulted room where there were several guard Robots and a control room. Then it goes to the last day as we went further Northwest. Then the volcano blew, and a mad scramble occurred before the blast hit. Some of us were rifted, as you call it, I believe. The people were Gloriosa, Hemlock and the Dwarf. I know they were alive. All the others I am not sure. My aunt gave me a new assignment. To meet up with a group called Girls. The video ends when I was transported to their place.”
I don’t know about any additional pay if any. But any jobs you may have for us in the future would be appreciated. The Girls changed their names to New Horizons, in the building at the Airport.”
Arvid gets up, then hands them the disk and starts walking out.
Mr. Anderson stands and speaks up, “Thank you Mr. Hammerson. If we need more information, we can get you at the New Horizon offices?”
Arvid turns and adds, “Of course, I just have other things that need to be done, when I have free time, you understand.”
Mr. Anderson then escorts Arvid out past the receptionist, “Thank you, again for the for the information.”
Arvid places the empty glass down at the Receptionist counter and says to her, “Thank you for the glass of water.”
Over his shoulder Arvid says in a loud voice, “You should pay her more.” Then heads to the elevator to go down.
Once outside Gets on His Turbo Board and heads to his next destination, the Mystic Quarter, and Collage and Guild Hall Entrance. Once there he Introduces himself to the guards at the entrance, “I’m Arvid Hammerson and requesting membership to the guild and collage.”
The guards Laugh at the giant of a man, Saying, “Sorry lad you have to be a magic user. By your aura you seem to be just a big non gifted.”
Arvid thinks and responds quickly, ending his adjusted aura.
The guards look again and see the massive glow coming off him as they reply, “Oh, there you go. Sorry sir for the miss interpretation. Your fee is 6000 credits for the year. Arvid Uses his Credit stick that have Universal Credits (Phase World) and fill out forms. As he is doing so a member of the Guild and College show up quickly.
“Your Highness we did not expect you to show up here so quickly.”
Arvid looks a bit confused, and asks, “Your highness? Oh, what is this about.”
Member smiles and replies, “You are Grandson of the God and Ruler of Asgard, Odin are you not?!” Arvid responds with a smile and a short laugh, “Yes, I am Prince of the Realm, but being a prince when Grandfather is the only ruler, and he doesn’t even know how old he is, we usually use the formal titles only when other dignitaries are around. So, it is odd for me to use a title.”
Member “I was sent by Guild Master Cearcy to say we appreciate your applying to the Guild, and he would like to personally greet you. We don’t get representatives as prestigious as yourself.
Arvid is escorted up to Cercy he stands and greets him, “Welcome to the Mystic Quarter. Have a Seat., now I understand your working for the Girls and that is now New Horizons. If you need any help, which I can’t really see happening, we are here. If you need some work, I shall try to swing some your way.”
Avid replies, “Thank you. I have other things that I should do like visit the Temple Districts. Arvid heads to pay his respect to the temple of Light and Darkness and introduces himself. Then to the temple of the four elements. And finally, to the Winds of Fate for a reading on love. He donates 1000 Credits to each.
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Phinneas_Graves
- Posts: 167
- Joined: Sun Feb 06, 2022 11:29 am
Re: Downtime: Writing Challenge
Back Home
Whenever everyone finally piles out of John's vehicle after returning from the Naruni HQ, Phinneas feels a light air of relief as he stretches out. This was definitely not the mission he was expecting, and the reality hits even harder when he makes his way back to his room and looks at himself in the mirror.
"Look at me Mr B. I look like chewed up bubblegum" he says to his faithful companion when he sees his image before him. His clothes are torn and tattered. Dried blood stains cover his shirt and pants from the amputation of his arm, and he is generally just filthy. The missing arm stares back at him and he hangs his head.
"What the hell good am I to them now?" he says in a low and sullen tone. "Susan already doesn't want me around, and it probably won't be long before the rest of the team decides I'm a liability as well"
It's not that bad Phin. Really. Susan doesn't want you gone anymore than the rest of the team does. It was a bad situation that got flipped on itself and everybody is a little high strung is all. His faithful friend tries to comfort him some.
Yeah, you lost an arm, but Look at how much we survived AFTER that happened. You even broke through to Eight towards the end. You just need a shower and some new clothes. AND, I'm sure that Susan would be more than willing to help us replace your arm. Trust me guy! Have I ever steered you wrong before?
"No Mr. B, you haven't"
Phinneas gets himself from in front of the mirror and gets himself ready for a shower. Although the warm water cleaning all the grime off of him is definitely refreshing, the reality of the lost limb hits hard again as he realizes he has to adjust to even the simplest of tasks. Trying to keep a positive attitude, he finishes his shower with only minor inconvenience, gets dressed again and heads out to catch John before he handles the group's shopping list.
With his newly acquired cut of the mission pay, Phinneas makes a small list for John, including an arm, hoping John can find something suitable at a decent cost. He isn't looking to blow his whole wad in one spot, especially if he is going to have to be on his own soon. Once John is handled, Phinneas leaves the hangar and goes out shopping, hoping his friend's advice will make him feel better.
At the Market
Phinneas makes his way to the markets. The sights and smells and familiarity of the MercTown merchants actually does lift his spirits a little. He finds himself a small street food vendor offering some kind of meat on a stick and buys himself a snack.
"You were right Mr B. I do feel a little better now" he says to his companion as he happily bites at his meat stick.
I told ya pal. It's just end of mission, things didn't go as planned blues. We're gonna be just fine
Phinneas makes his way to the barber he came to when he first arrived in MercTown. He spends about an hour here getting his hair trimmed, his scalp massaged and his M.O.M. implants polished. Seeing himself in the mirror afterward doesn't bite as hard as it did back at the hangar, at least until he gets back out to the streets.
As he wanders back out into the crowd, a juicer and some of his friends see Phinneas leave the barber shop. "I guess you CAN polish a turd!" The juicer snarkily says as his entourage laughs with him. Phin's hand clenches and his body stiffens as he gets ready to say or do something, but his grenade chimes in quickly
NO Phin. This isn't a good idea
"Why Not?! I can take him!"
"HAHAHA!!!! Even the voices in his head know better!" The juicer and his friends start laughing once again.
kill him A low voice rattles in his head.
"I should kill him.....he's nothing without his juice"
Phin, NO! Let it go.
"You need to make up your mind Mr B"
It is Phinneas. Leave this be! It's not worth it!
Phinneas relaxes his stance as the juicer approaches and pushes a finger into Phin's chest. "You should listen to the voices little man. This won't go well for you..."
Let.....it......go.......Phinneas
The Crazy hangs his head as he walks away from the juicer and his friends, the sound of acoustic laughter burning his ears as he does so.
"Even you don't believe in me anymore Mr B"
Phin.....
"Not now Mr B. I don't feel like talking"
Here's Johnny!!
Phinneas wanders along through the market, stung by the interaction with the juicer and the even greater hurt of his companion's lack of faith in his ability. He passes by numerous vendors selling all manner of goods, but so lost in his depression over his arm, he doesn't realize he is passing by most of the vendors he's looking for.
Suddenly, a scent catches his nose. It's a scent that breaks through every wall, every personality, every hurt. It's something he's never smelled before, and all he knows is that his stomach wants it. When he finds the source of the smell, he sees a newer vendor to MercTown. The shop is tiny but the line is long and patrons huddle around it, eating their food from large to go containers.
Phinneas gets in line and orders when it is his turn. "I'll have what everyone else is having!! This smells amazing!"
"One special, coming up!"
Phinneas waits patiently impatient at counter pick up area for his food. When the being behind the counter calls his number, he goes to take his container, not prepared for the heft of the generous portions inside. The food slips from his fingers and topples to the ground in slow motion as he watches in horror. He falls to a knee and reaches for the broken container, now spilling food all over the ground. His head hangs low. "I can't even hold a goddamn plate.......maybe they're right....."
It's alright kid. Sit this one out. I'll handle it
Phinneas looks around, but doesn't see anyone. As he looks back toward the reminder of his current limitations, his vision starts to fade slowly, until all is black.
"Aaaaaaaah........that's much better" Jack stands up tall and straight, twisting his neck and releasing a few small pops from his joints.
"Time to get this show on the road"
Jack makes his way around the markets, first finding a clothing dealer. He picks up a few outfits he considers suitable, and then changes in the dressing room. "I'm wearing this out. You can burn those for me" he says as he points to the pile of tattered clothing he left behind. He pays for his clothing and leaves, making his way to an actual sit down higher end restaurant, where he orders their best meal and some alcohol. He takes his time as he savors every bite and every sip. "It's good to be back out"
As he makes his way towards the hangar, he passes the juicer who hassled Phinneas earlier. He makes eye contact which elicits another round of laughter from the juicer and his cohorts, but what they don't know is that Jack is simply burning a mental image. He realizes that going against a juicer one armed is a bad idea, but he won't be one armed for long.
Arriving back at the hangar, Jack walks in with new life in his steps. He goes and sets his purchases aside in Phin's room and then looks around the hangar looking for Susan.
When he finally finds her, he begins to ask the doctor about getting this arm issue under control.
Whenever everyone finally piles out of John's vehicle after returning from the Naruni HQ, Phinneas feels a light air of relief as he stretches out. This was definitely not the mission he was expecting, and the reality hits even harder when he makes his way back to his room and looks at himself in the mirror.
"Look at me Mr B. I look like chewed up bubblegum" he says to his faithful companion when he sees his image before him. His clothes are torn and tattered. Dried blood stains cover his shirt and pants from the amputation of his arm, and he is generally just filthy. The missing arm stares back at him and he hangs his head.
"What the hell good am I to them now?" he says in a low and sullen tone. "Susan already doesn't want me around, and it probably won't be long before the rest of the team decides I'm a liability as well"
It's not that bad Phin. Really. Susan doesn't want you gone anymore than the rest of the team does. It was a bad situation that got flipped on itself and everybody is a little high strung is all. His faithful friend tries to comfort him some.
Yeah, you lost an arm, but Look at how much we survived AFTER that happened. You even broke through to Eight towards the end. You just need a shower and some new clothes. AND, I'm sure that Susan would be more than willing to help us replace your arm. Trust me guy! Have I ever steered you wrong before?
"No Mr. B, you haven't"
Phinneas gets himself from in front of the mirror and gets himself ready for a shower. Although the warm water cleaning all the grime off of him is definitely refreshing, the reality of the lost limb hits hard again as he realizes he has to adjust to even the simplest of tasks. Trying to keep a positive attitude, he finishes his shower with only minor inconvenience, gets dressed again and heads out to catch John before he handles the group's shopping list.
With his newly acquired cut of the mission pay, Phinneas makes a small list for John, including an arm, hoping John can find something suitable at a decent cost. He isn't looking to blow his whole wad in one spot, especially if he is going to have to be on his own soon. Once John is handled, Phinneas leaves the hangar and goes out shopping, hoping his friend's advice will make him feel better.
At the Market
Phinneas makes his way to the markets. The sights and smells and familiarity of the MercTown merchants actually does lift his spirits a little. He finds himself a small street food vendor offering some kind of meat on a stick and buys himself a snack.
"You were right Mr B. I do feel a little better now" he says to his companion as he happily bites at his meat stick.
I told ya pal. It's just end of mission, things didn't go as planned blues. We're gonna be just fine
Phinneas makes his way to the barber he came to when he first arrived in MercTown. He spends about an hour here getting his hair trimmed, his scalp massaged and his M.O.M. implants polished. Seeing himself in the mirror afterward doesn't bite as hard as it did back at the hangar, at least until he gets back out to the streets.
As he wanders back out into the crowd, a juicer and some of his friends see Phinneas leave the barber shop. "I guess you CAN polish a turd!" The juicer snarkily says as his entourage laughs with him. Phin's hand clenches and his body stiffens as he gets ready to say or do something, but his grenade chimes in quickly
NO Phin. This isn't a good idea
"Why Not?! I can take him!"
"HAHAHA!!!! Even the voices in his head know better!" The juicer and his friends start laughing once again.
kill him A low voice rattles in his head.
"I should kill him.....he's nothing without his juice"
Phin, NO! Let it go.
"You need to make up your mind Mr B"
It is Phinneas. Leave this be! It's not worth it!
Phinneas relaxes his stance as the juicer approaches and pushes a finger into Phin's chest. "You should listen to the voices little man. This won't go well for you..."
Let.....it......go.......Phinneas
The Crazy hangs his head as he walks away from the juicer and his friends, the sound of acoustic laughter burning his ears as he does so.
"Even you don't believe in me anymore Mr B"
Phin.....
"Not now Mr B. I don't feel like talking"
Here's Johnny!!
Phinneas wanders along through the market, stung by the interaction with the juicer and the even greater hurt of his companion's lack of faith in his ability. He passes by numerous vendors selling all manner of goods, but so lost in his depression over his arm, he doesn't realize he is passing by most of the vendors he's looking for.
Suddenly, a scent catches his nose. It's a scent that breaks through every wall, every personality, every hurt. It's something he's never smelled before, and all he knows is that his stomach wants it. When he finds the source of the smell, he sees a newer vendor to MercTown. The shop is tiny but the line is long and patrons huddle around it, eating their food from large to go containers.
Phinneas gets in line and orders when it is his turn. "I'll have what everyone else is having!! This smells amazing!"
"One special, coming up!"
Phinneas waits patiently impatient at counter pick up area for his food. When the being behind the counter calls his number, he goes to take his container, not prepared for the heft of the generous portions inside. The food slips from his fingers and topples to the ground in slow motion as he watches in horror. He falls to a knee and reaches for the broken container, now spilling food all over the ground. His head hangs low. "I can't even hold a goddamn plate.......maybe they're right....."
It's alright kid. Sit this one out. I'll handle it
Phinneas looks around, but doesn't see anyone. As he looks back toward the reminder of his current limitations, his vision starts to fade slowly, until all is black.
"Aaaaaaaah........that's much better" Jack stands up tall and straight, twisting his neck and releasing a few small pops from his joints.
"Time to get this show on the road"
Jack makes his way around the markets, first finding a clothing dealer. He picks up a few outfits he considers suitable, and then changes in the dressing room. "I'm wearing this out. You can burn those for me" he says as he points to the pile of tattered clothing he left behind. He pays for his clothing and leaves, making his way to an actual sit down higher end restaurant, where he orders their best meal and some alcohol. He takes his time as he savors every bite and every sip. "It's good to be back out"
As he makes his way towards the hangar, he passes the juicer who hassled Phinneas earlier. He makes eye contact which elicits another round of laughter from the juicer and his cohorts, but what they don't know is that Jack is simply burning a mental image. He realizes that going against a juicer one armed is a bad idea, but he won't be one armed for long.
Arriving back at the hangar, Jack walks in with new life in his steps. He goes and sets his purchases aside in Phin's room and then looks around the hangar looking for Susan.
When he finally finds her, he begins to ask the doctor about getting this arm issue under control.
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Underguard
- Dimension Master
- Posts: 1244
- Joined: Mon Jun 03, 2019 6:41 pm
- Location: CAF, UPS and GIRLS GM - nphilip90s/ScytheNP#2513
Re: Downtime: Writing Challenge
Thank you for everyone's participation. This is now closed. I'll award bonus XP at the end of the quad. Good stuff!
Rifts: Earth Dimension Master
H4H GM || GIRLS GM || Spooks Temp GM|| Theme Song
PCs: | Exe (PW GA) | Venenifer (Roughnecks) | Glitch (PW GR) | Granas (PFRPG) | Isaiah Peirce (BTS)| Ashrak (Void Reavers)
H4H GM || GIRLS GM || Spooks Temp GM|| Theme Song
PCs: | Exe (PW GA) | Venenifer (Roughnecks) | Glitch (PW GR) | Granas (PFRPG) | Isaiah Peirce (BTS)| Ashrak (Void Reavers)
╭∩╮（︶︿︶）╭∩╮