Galactic Sea: Cosmic Tales

Space.

Some time ago, it was always said to be the final frontier. The extent of human engineering, the farthest step mankind could ever go. But as technology continued to advance, and resources on Earth started to dwindle, people began to realize that Mankind couldn't just stop at space-they had to go even further than that. When Humans stepped on the moon, it seemed they attracted the attention of more than just star dust and solar winds. They were met with Aliens.

Hostility and unease was present, but over time, peace was made. An unsteady, nervously made peace, but peace nonetheless. And with that peace, came a new age. An Age of Exploration, Science, Mystery. From the red sands of Mars to the vibrant jungles of Venus and beyond.

But with this new age, came something else: Danger, Villainy, and Destruction. Whether it's prejudice of other races, businesses fueled by nothing but their own hunger and greed, or just a man's own cold-blooded hateful nature, nowhere is safe. But with that uncertainty and fear, comes opportunity and adventure.

Chapter 1: Clean Up Job

Pluto. While the debate of whether or not it's a planet is still a hot topic debate among scientists, all could agree it was the 'Gas Station of the Universe', as it had the most taverns-most if not all of them the home to various mercenaries. One of those taverns, Winking Cyclops, is one of the many taverns in the Sol System-mostly well known for it's owner, whom was, indeed, missing an eye.

Our heroes are inside this Tavern. Either looking for work, trying to get whatever food and drinks you can get, or something else altogether.

Snakeye walked in, his eyes scanning the tavern, either his latest bounty was here, or it wasn't. Didn't matter to the Biotron, he needed something to drink anyways, no real reason other than he just liked the taste.

Silver Arm, it's twin Black Angel twirling in his hand. "Nobody better mess with me right now," he muttered.

Shira sits at the bar, rifle slung over her shoulder. She'd come looking for a job, but had thus far not found anything.

She glances over at Snakeye, almost as if sizing him up.

Among the crowd of diverse and fairly rowdy figures scattered around was a a cyborg, chrome and flesh precariously perched on a stool. Kit held a drink that was bright red and faintly glowing, a cocktail with some form of exotic spice that existed more as a challenge than a legitimate beverage. Although he seemed quiet to the world, a conversation was going on internally.

I don't get how you drink that swill.

Capsaicin is a glorious gift to the galaxy and I won't hear otherwise.

The mental bickering was interrupted as the door swung open and someone else entered the tavern. Kit avoided eye contact but kept an eye on the biotron; the kind of person who immediately starts twirling weaponry on entering a room could be interesting.

edited 28th Dec '15 2:11:10 PM by TenebrousGaze

Geoffery sat himself down on a barstool and looked over the crowd. When the bartender came over he put down a couple of cred coins and ordered a coffee and rum. "Any new job listings?," he asked, putting down another coin. He knew this place did a strong secondary business as a clearing house for gossip and information.

A hooded figure strolled up to the tavern with an easygoing stride, stopping for a moment as it looked over the establishment.

“Hrm… not too shabby,” a feminine, alien accent admit with a smile around its mandibles. “Should be a good place for a little R&R. Maybe find a new gig, too…”

With two arms tucked into her pockets, one arm held out towards the door, and one last arm held at her hip, Kitcha made her first steps into the Winking Cyclops. Walking with a casual stride, she took a seat at the front of the bar, where she assumed it’d be easier to locate the one-eyed proprietor she’d heard of.

“Yello, barkeep?” The cloaked insectoid called out, waving a credit drive in her upper left hand. “Got anything light? Maybe something Martian?”

While everyone else was just getting started for the night, Ray had been there for a while. Ray was a bit younger than was considered the acceptable drinking age on most civilized planets. His youth was obvious. He had a boyishly handsome appearance, and while he wasn't exacrtly small, his frame was lithe, yet toned, which was clear from the white tank-top he wore under his red jacket. But then, Pluto wasn't exactly the most civilized planet. As long as you didn't actually ride in on a tricycle, the Cyclops was willing to whet your whistle.

He'd gotten to Pluto not long ago. He'd spent every credit he had on a junk spaceship, and was lucky it had waited until he was in low orbit before it died on him. Now he was just waiting for his bounty to arrive. Not only would that be enough to line his pockets for a while, the one known as 'V' had information on his father, who had been a regular at the Winking Cyclops.

For now, though, he was beating the high score on Puck-Man. He had only had one drink so far.

The Bartender looked at the hooded woman-she assumed-and bird Beastkin, her left eye covered by an eye patch. She brushed her messy red-hair out of her good eye as she brought up a holographic board atop her bar stand, "Yeah, plenty of jobs. None of them really seem to be paying too much...oh. Actually, here's a job that might be up your allies."

As a droid brought brought Geoffrey his coffee and rum, the owner pointed to a hooded figure sitting at the table. Despite her black hood that covered her face, it was clear she wanted attention, with how she kept USB drives around her neck and kept looking left and right as her own crimson-red hair moved under the hood. Her lime-green hands tapped at the table anxiously.

"Little lady over there put up a job a few minutes ago." She told them, "It says any specifics need to be discussed face to face. But the reward seems to be worth a pretty coin." Indeed, the job said it was worth 10,000 Credits for anyone willing to take the job-each.

Snakeye slipped Black Angel into a holster and sat down at the bar. He asked for a whisley and looked over the options of jobs.

One caught his eye. 10,000 credits... not too bad a option. Better than the current bounty. Didn't matger anyways there were more of them.

10,000 each? There's gotta be some sort of catch... But... An image of her current credit balance flashes in her mind.

"Wow, that's alot of money.." She says in an innocent-ish voice.

((How far will 10,000 credits get someone? Like how many burgers could I buy with 10,000 credits? How much does a new video game cost in credits? A rocket launcher? What about a railgun? A weapon that can destroy an entire planet? How much would that cost?))

Ray lost for the billionth time that night. He was about to put a few more creds into the machine when he heard the whistle of a rusty wheel. A robot wheeled in◊. V was an older model of Vendotron, suited for sale of valuable goods. In this case, guns, drugs, and other less-than-legal wares. V had good defenses and heavy armor, so he was much more well-protected than most other black market dealers. However, unlike newer models, he lacked a true AI. While he acted extremely human, he was not actually self-aware.

"Howdy." V said, in a thick, southern drawl, voice like syrup filtered through a computer speaker. He wheeled over to the bar. "I'll have a glass of Fireball, please." As the machine sat down between Shira and Kitcha, the stool creaked slightly, having difficulty holding what amounted to a vending machine on wheels. The drugs and weapons he housed rattle noisily as he sat, though the light showing inventory was off. It looked like he wouldn't sell in the bar.

"Room for one more?" Ray asked, taking a seat opposite the vending machine man. His hand was close to the hilt of his gun. Ray didn't even seem aware of it. The weapon was red, and easily the length of a person's forearm. The contract was for the robot, dead or alive. Ray knew he would have to destroy it. But first, he had to get information on his dad from the salesrobot. Besides, starting a fight in the middle of a bar was kind of rude.

That, and he didn't know if he could off it then and there. He knew it wasn't sentient, but he still couldn't make piece with killing something that acted very nearly human.

"Are you a mercenary too?" Ray asked Shira. The winged girl was pretty. But he was really just making an excuse to be near V. His hand twirled a lock of his hair. His eyes never looked at the hulking robot on the other side of the beastgirl.

edited 28th Dec '15 8:59:59 PM by HeroicSociopath

Hm? 's this guy talking to me?

"Oh, me? Ah... I wouldn't quite say that..." Shira answered politely, while smiling at him. She discreetly looked him over.

... Che. Hand near his gun. Is he here to.... No, at this range he'd probably have started something already. Is he overexcited or something? Heh. If I were more immature, I'd comment that mine was bigger..

... Indeed, it was. Though some of the bulk was due to the case it was contained in, the rifle slung over her shoulder was nearly longer her head and torso combined.

Ray managed to follow Shira's eyes. One of the first things that his father had taught him was to be perceptive. Still, he would have been better served to notice he was doing it before. His hand moved to the counter, away from his gun, while he discretely glanced past Shira to the robot, who was pouring whiskey down his coin slot.

"The giant gun is just to fend off suitors, then?" Ray asked. Though it was in a case, he'd bet his life savings^* 17 credits, his gun, and the clothes on his back that it was some kind of weapon, just based on the fact that everyone else in the bar was armed.

edited 29th Dec '15 12:22:37 AM by HeroicSociopath

"I don't know, is it? This is a bodiless electric guitar case, I'll have you know..." From her tone, it's hard to tell if she's serious or not.

Without shifting her gaze, she mutters under her breath.

"Is he your mark?"

Kitcha blinked for a moment. “Actually, I was asking for a drink... but sure, why not,” she shrugged, tucking her credit drive back into her pockets as she drew her eyes towards the job listings.

“Lessee here, pretty average… OK I guess…” she listed off the jobs one by one as her finger ran down them. “Run of the mill… meh… only 10 thou-” Kitcha cut herself off, leaning in to read the listing more closely. “Ohhhhh… THAT should be something good~”

Ignoring the birdman at her side, Kitcha immediately acted on the bartender’s word regarding the 10K payout job, hopping over to a seat at the table with the other hooded woman.

“Heyyyy there,” she introduced herself, putting on an intentionally weak facade of obliviousness. “You look like you could use some help with somethin’. Maybe I could lend a hand?” Kitcha winked underneath her hood.

"Hey, if you two are gonna fight, take it outside." The Owner told Ray and Shira, half-expecting some kind of fight to break out as they talked about guns-heck, the way Ray had his hand on his before didn't put her at ease.

Meanwhile, the hooded Martian woman gave Kitcha a skeptical look. She did not like the tone she was being spoken with, "I sure hope you're speaking of my job offer and not something else..." she mumbled, not having too much faith in this person if she came to her looking for work.

Geoff took a sip of his drink then carried it to the e table the bartender had indicated. He nodded to the clientmight be dangerous and then to his potential rival and/or teammate.

"So, ten thousand creds? Sounds like it might be dangerous. Not that I have a problem with that.

Ray tensed very slightly as Shira whispered to him. The Vendotron gave no indication that it had heard. Maybe he just didn't have very good hearing. Still, he wasn't sure he should be discussing his plans to destroy the robot when he was like three feet away. He gave a slight nod when the robot wasn't looking.

"Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else." Ray said, taking Shira's wrist and more or less trying to drag her to a table a bit farther away, and by sheer happenstance, adjacent to the Martian and Uranian. He leaned in somewhat close.

"Alright, how much do you want? The pay's 500 credits." Ray said. 500 credits was a good hunk of money, but it wasn't a lot for an assassination.

Seeing the Martian's skeptical response, Kitcha shrugged. “Wanna keep it formal, huh? Killjoy…” she muttered the last word underneath her breath, straightening her back as she crossed her arms. “Yeah, I’m asking about that job…”

As she nodded, she turned towards the table’s newcomer- a birdman that she totally didn’t see just a few seconds ago- cocking her head lightly at his remark. “You say it’s dangerous? Lemme tell you, the second you decide to come to these kinds of joints for a living, everything becomes dangerous. Some gigs are just… different kinds of dangerous. Speaking of which…” the Urani digressed slightly, before turning back towards the Martian. “What kind of dangerous is your gig, exactly? We talking bodyguard duty? Breaking and entering? Anything involving space pirates?”

Kit heard when the job was mentioned - 10,000 credits was pretty reasonable. A place like this would have plenty of interested parties but it was worth checking out. The cyborg downed the rest of his drink and left the glass on the bar as he walked over to the hooded woman's table.

"So, about this job. What needs doing?"

A second voice, electronic and flat, blared out of a speaker.

"We can cooperate, of course, if you're willing to pay more. Better chances on your end."

Shira resists the urge to judo flip Ray as he grabs her. Instead, she just follows along to the table with the others.

"Me? Oh no, Wouldn't want to interfere with your work, after all.."

edited 29th Dec '15 2:56:55 PM by Daydre

Snakeye sat upright and added "If it's money. I'll take the job. Better than a few of my bounties."

The Martian woman looked around at the Mercs that gathered around her table now. This was more reassuring as the Martian took out a small I Pad-looking device. She pressed a button as a holographic projection appeared of a large building. It looked run down and in the middle of a desert.

"You all see this building?" she asked, "This is a laboratory. Or, rather, what was left of it, that is. It's been decommissioned...quite sometime ago. You have a very simple job: destroy everything. Computers. Robots. Files-everything. Sounds like easy money, doesn't it?"

Snakeye grinned, exceptionally easy money, he still had his .44 Blaster, should punch through the bots easily.

“Just break in, break some bots, break everything else, and break your piggy bank…?” Kitcha summarized, hand held under her head. “Doesn’t sound quite like my forte but... eh, cash is cash. Especially when you put up dozens of thousands of credits on the line…” she explained with a shrug, leaning back. “That’s like, a lot of money for a job that’s simply about breaking things that nobody needs. Especially when some of it might be salvageable. Almost as though there’s a catch or something along those lines, hmmmm…?” she not-so-subtly implied.

edited 29th Dec '15 1:22:33 PM by Cedi