Shadowrun: Vera

"It is my very favorite gun."

There's a reason you never tell anybody you've named a weapon. Actually, I take that back. There's multiple freaking reasons, not least of which is they stare at you, followed by the inevitable question "You named your gun?" People've been naming weapons for eons. Get over it.

That is of course the rabbit hole question. If people decide to leap in, then you're bound to have a few more. Tell me about the gun. How'd it earn its name, or why do you call it that. Where'd you get it. Why the hell did you name your freaking gun.

So what is it? It's an assault rifle. Make and model's hard to tell with how much it's been modified since its original purchase, but if I had to take a guess, it's something along the lines of a Yamaha Raiden, updated to have increased accuracy when you're aiming down the sights, with a scope, smartgun capabilities, a built-in suppressor, and an added dual magazine. If that's the case, someone's added a longer stock, and a more refined barrel.

So where it get its name? Vera, like the woman who was her owner prior to myself, can be extremely loud, eats bullets like nobody's business, has a problem of being aimed at things that I'd much prefer she wasn't aimed at(myself being one of them), and has probably killed a ton more people that I'm entirely unaware of before I even knew she existed. You wanna talk and swap crazy ex-girlfriend stories, I'll toss that one out there. Grade A nutjob, wrapped up psychotic, with a dash of cuckoo. And wielding a decent sized assault rifle. She presently is no longer with us. Considering the fact that Vera got shot by her gun. Ironically enough not the rifle, but the pistol she kept under her pillow.

I would say that maybe she won't try to smother the next guy with his own pillow while he's asleep. But there isn't a next guy. Word to the wise. If you plan on killing someone, don't leave your pistol within reach of them, unless you're using it in the act.

The Accountant's Ledger: Entry 4

[[Accessing Datapad...

Username: dmalcolm

Password: *********

Access Granted.

Select program.

Audio Recording Playback selected.

Select file.

File selected.

Opening file: 'Log' 4/Audio Log 1. Subject: “Marriage and Love”.

Starting playback...]]

“I. Am kriffing tired. Of every freaking marriage that I have to keep hearing about. I am tired of all this lovely dovey crap. All of the damn planning that people keep doing, all of the stupid rings people keep wearing, and of all the damn 'I love yous' and everything else. I swear, if I had ten credits for every couple I saw who was getting hitched, I could buy enough booze to kill me. But I hear it all the kriffing time.

“Let me tell you something from four years of marriage. Ain't. Worth it. You wanna settle down for no good reason. Oh. Wait. I'm sorry. You wanna settle down because you wuv somebody so much that you just can't live without them or some BS thing. Do you idiots not get how boring that sounds? To just stop and settle? What the hell are you gonna do all day? Cuddle and knit or something? Why? What does it do for you? Hell, maybe it's for tax purposes! Is that it? Doubt it.

“And half of you idiots that talk about settling down? You won't. A lot of you idiots talking about getting married? Might not. And if you do. How long's that gonna last, I mean really? It's only a matter of time before you slam face first into a brick wall, and get bored, and then what. Oh, I can guess. With the way everything else works everywhere else in the galaxy, one of you'll probably get possessed or kidnapped. Have fun with that. Might wanna prepare ahead of time. Or something. Never know.

“'Oh but how would you know it's pointless'? Because. I can guess. Because I know how easily people get bored. And it's only a matter of time, for all of you 'I'm gonna settle down' idiots. It's a matter of time, before you get bored, and you do something either stupid, or something more exciting than sitting on your ass. And good for you. Do that. Probably all the excitement you'll be getting, outside of kriffing. Which apparently for some idiots is some sort of pass time. Seriously. You people call me crazy and you kriff constantly for fun. That can't be healthy. In the slightest.

“'But I love them'! But you love them? What the hell is love? Do you know? It's something your brain came up with to justify you mating with someone for life, for the sake of making offspring. That's what your little romance is all about, in the end. That's what all romance is about in the end. Kriffing. Children. Dead. Then those kids can do the same thing, and woo hoo, continuation of a species. Big kriffin' win all around, right? Hey. Whatever you wanna think, I guess. We all know my opinion isn't yours. Far from it.

“Doesn't help that people get way too worked up over these things. What to wear, what music to play, who should I invite, where should it be, what will my ring look like? When the hell'd you all get so vain! It's annoying! No one cares but you! 'Oh she looks so beautiful'. Yeah. I'm sure the worms that'll be eating your corpse eventually'll think of that. Enjoy that thought. Really. Hope you do.

“Take a piece of advice from me. First piece of advice on marriage? Don't. Do. Not. End of story! Life's so much simpler now for you! No more significant other? One less birthday to remember! One less gift to buy on Life Day! One less person you have to worry about getting brutally murdered by people like me because they ticked somebody off for some dumb reason and got a price put on their head, followed by a bolt through their brains! Though if that happens, hey, can't say I didn't warn you.

“Second piece. Keep it simple, stupid. That's a saying. I think. Somewhere it probably is. What are you gonna wear? Who cares? Why do you need music? Why does anyone need to be there? Should matter to only two people. Screw everyone else. Not literally, please, all of you kriff-obsessed people. That's still disturbing. Where? Hell if I know. Somewhere that doesn't have air that'll kill you, and that doesn't smell like a garbage dumb. So preferably not Quesh, or Hutta, I guess. Again. Why does it really matter. Only one other person should matter.

“What qualifies me to criticize all of you, and say this stuff, you're asking? Married. Five years. Five. Years. So yeah. I think I've got a bit of experience compared to you. Alright it's not the most normal of marriages. So what? Ain't seen my husband more than a few times over that five years. You know what that means? We never fight. We never argue over dumb things, we never get bored of each other, and we never have to worry about getting hitched or attached again! Perfect marriage, thank you very much.

“No. I don't even 'love' him. Quit saying I do.”

[[Ending Playback...

Exiting Playback application.

Logging Out.

Shutting Down.]]

Distant Relations

     "What do you want Vince?" she muttered, slowly picking through the pieces of her rifle that she had laid out on her desk.

     His eyes were firmly planted on his datapad, turning it this way and that as if to get a better view of something. He looked at her, squinting, "You've got a brother, right?"

     Li'ana shot him a glance, left eyebrow slowly raising, "Yeah. Jedi. Why?" 

     Vincent motioned for her to look at him, holding his datapad up to where it was right beside her face. His mouth hung open as he compared the picture of the person on his datapad to her, squinting yet again. 

     She sighed, giving him a look, "The hell are you doing?"

     "Well, it's just that there's this guy they just brought in," he said, motioning to the device, "Had the same last name as you, but wasn't a Jedi. Figured it was a coincidence or something. Big galaxy, you know."

     She nodded slowly, frowning by this point, "And."

     "And, well," he said, holding his datapad out to her, "You two look alike. It's eerie is all."

     She stared at the picture, the frown on her face growing. There were similarities, just as she was worried there would be, though whereas her hair was blonde his was brown. Li'ana turned her gaze back up toward Vince, "What'd You say this guy's name was?"

     Vince flicked the picture away, a page of information appearing in its place. He tapped near the top of it, "Red...Redamous Malcolm. Who names their kid Redamous?"

     She sighed, standing, "What room is he in?"

     "Interrogation three," he answered, blinking as she quickly strode out of the room.

-----
 

     Redamous crossed his arms, resting back in the chair, eyes watching the door they had brought him in through. It was the only entrance or exit into the room unless he wanted to have a try at smashing through the one-way glass that to him was clear as mud and to the officers on the other side was clear as day. 

     This was far from his first time in an interrogation room, and it wasn't likely to be the last. They had brought him in, there was no way in hell he was going to make the have to drag him in, on charges of having associated with some minor thug downstairs. Red had never even heard the guy's name before.

     Outside through the door he could barely make out a few people talking. What they were talking about was beyond him. After a few minutes it grew silent save for a slight click as the lock in the door shifted. Red leaned forward, resting against the table that sat between him and an empty chair. 

     There was another moment of silence, before the door opened and a woman entered, looking through what he could only guess to be his file on her datapad, taking a seat in the other chair. "You know," she said, her voice making Red frown, "Figured this would happen eventually."

     She set the datapad on the table, leaning forward in an almost perfect mirror of the Captain. Red frowned a bit more, shaking his head, "Ain't this a conflict of interest or somethin'?"

     Li'ana nodded, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the door, "It's like you just heard my conversation out there. We discussed it. They said we're fine."

     "Well ain't that pleasant," he muttered, resting back in his chair, crossing his arms again.

     "The hell's got you in a mood?" she said, scrolling through her datapad as it lay on the table. Ana chuckled, glancing up at him, "What? You know this guy?"

     "Said it enough times already that I don' know 'im," Red said, not sounding amused, "An' I'm in a mood 'cause I just got arrested for somethin' I didn' do, an' now the person they got questionin' me's my damn sister." He leaned forward, squinting. The right side of her face appeared to scarred, from a burn most likely, "The hell happened to you?"

     "What?" she said, laughing again, "Idiot with a flamethrower." Li'ana shrugged, "And really, you think I like the fact that my big brother can't keep himself outta trouble and got hauled in here? You think I like that or somethin'? 'Cause I don't. I don't like the fact that you even do somethin' that might even get you hauled in here."

     He rolled his eyes, "Oh now you sound like Dey."

     "Oh I do not sound like Dey," she said, rolling her eyes as well, "I'm not in here reading you the riot act, am I?"

     "You're pretty damn close."

     "Close ain't doin' it now is it? If anything, I believe you."

      Red blinked, taking his turn to laugh now, "Oh really now."

     "Well yeah," she said, turning towards the glass, "'Cause if any of you guys were paying attention that guy cleared out his contacts list for us last week."

     He stared at her, jaw dropping open slightly, before he turned his head to the glass as well, "Are you kiddin' me? Are you freakin' kiddin' me?"

     She laughed, "They do that sometimes. Like you don't screw up stuff."

     "Maybe. Sometimes."

     "Only sometimes, huh? Never got told to kriff off and didn't know it, still showed up anyway?"

     He covered his face with his hands, rubbing his temples, though a smirk played on his lips all the same, "Ma know you're talkin' like that?"

     "Ma know you talk like that?"

     "She might've got an inklin' back when she was tellin' me about dead."

     "Yeah, she was tellin' me you weren't exactly Captain Smiley."

     Red stared at her, shaking his head, "Didn't have much of a reason to be, now did I?" He shot a glance towards the glass again, before looking back at her, eyebrow raised slightly.

     Li'ana raised an eyebrow of her own, "What? They ain't recording us. Hopefully. Shouldn't be." She said, shooting a glare towards the glass, "Hell. They shouldn't even be watching."

     "People get awfully curious," Red muttered, shaking his head.

     "Don't they?" she said, rolling her eyes in return.
-----
     "She's got another brother," one man muttered, squeezing into the small crowd forming at the window.

     "I swear I've seen that guy before," a second said, squinting, "I didn't even give it a second thought."

     "It's the eyes, right?" a third said.

     "Yeah. Eyes. Looks like it's in the eyes," the first agreed.

     "Was hoping there'd be more screaming," the second muttered.

     "Geeze. Aren't you mister Nice Guy?"

     "What?"

     "Came in here hoping to just watch a fight?"

     "Well why the hell are you in here then?"

     "Just. Just shut up."
-----
     There was a moment of silence between the two, before he cleared his throat. "Well. This has been pleasant and all that but at the risk of soundin' rude, I'd like to check out, if I can."

     She nodded, jerking a thumb over her shoulder toward the door, "Right. Yeah. You're free to go." Red offered her a small smile and nod, standing and shifting over to the door. Ana twisted slightly, turning to look at him, "Hold it."

     He sighed, resting his head against the door, "Yep."

     "Just," she bit her tongue, shrugging, "Just call or somethin'. Or hell, I don't know. Catch me when I'm off or somethin'. Buy you a drink. Or you can buy me one. Yeah, that sounds better."

     Red looked at her, "Guess I could do that."

     She smiled, "Good. I'll call up Dey or somethin'. We can get kicked out of a bar for arguing too loud."

     He rolled his eyes, "I'd prefer you didn't."

     "I'm just kiddin' Red. Mostly."

     He nodded, opening the door and slipping out, raising his voice, "Good."

     She yelled at him in return, "Don't get shot or anything you idiot."

     Li'ana Malcolm sighed, resting forward against the table and rubbing her temples. It was going to be a long day. She could feel it.
    

The Accountant's Ledger: Entry 3

[[Accessing Datapad...

Username: dmalcolm

Password: *********

Access Granted.

Select Program.

Video Playback selected.

Select File.

File selected.

Opening: Video Log 3. Subject: “Ice Queen”.

Starting playback...]]

The pink-haired Chiss sat back in a chair, arms crossed, a cold gaze set on the camera. Her lips slowly curl into a cruel smile as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. There's a coldness to her voice as she speak, despite the smile, “'Ice queen'.” Her fingers slowly began to drum against her leg, the smile remaining, “'Ice queen'. You know what? I like that. Good description. So, miss 'I Could Break You in Half'. You wanna know why I'm such an 'Ice Queen'? I have to be.”

She held up a single, gloved finger, the smile fading, “One. I kill people for a living. Let me repeat myself. I kill people for a living. Do I need to explain that? I commit murder, and get paid to do it. See? Easy to understand.” Daeria narrowed her eyes slightly, the smile returning, a horrible amusement hanging in her voice, “But, I know what you're gonna say. Plenty of people get their money through killing people, and they aren't cold heartless monsters, now are they?

“Oh, but they are. With me, you see somebody who admits to what they are. I mean come on. I'm not exactly subtle about it. I say it all the damn time. I'm a psychopath. I kill people, and I don't feel bad about it. And, to boot, I like thinkin' about how I'd kill most everybody. It's a fun mental workout, try it sometime. And two, I'm a sociopath. I don't give a damn about your dumb social guidelines or any of that crap. It's boring. It's just so boring to have to watch someone try to be polite and all that when they obviously just want to tell you to go kriff yourself. I mean really. And no, I don't say those two things because I 'watch too many holovids', despite what some idiots may think.”

She motioned towards the camera as if she were referring to another person, “But with everyone else? They just go about their day like it's nothing. They're the real monsters. They kill people, they get paid, and then they brag about it. Then they tell stories like it's a tale of glory or something like that. And people don't find that creepy. But when I tell it like it is, I'm weird, and I'm crazy, and I'm just plain mean.”

“So yes, maybe I am some sort of 'ice queen', and I'm perfectly fine with that. 'But why would she want to do this?' you'll ask,” she said, tapping her chin as if pondering the question, before waving it away, “Simple. I'm good at it. I like it, I enjoy it, and I'm good at it. Sure, I had to find that out the hard way, but it was worth it to find it out. I'd probably be dead if I didn't. Do what you gotta do to survive, and it may not look like it, but I still do that. I still do what I have to do to get by. Even if I had enough money to retire on, I wouldn't, because that would drive me insane. So I have to keep doing something, and that's what I have to do to survive. Simple as that. Some people need to kriff, some of us need to kill.”

“From where I'm sitting, I like to think I've got things pretty well figured out.” She held up two fingers, “There's two truths to life. We're born, and we die. Everything else in between's fair game. But if you're alive, you've been born, and you're sure as hell gonna die. Whether that's in your sleep of old age, or from some poisoned drink, or some big showdown on a crowded street. You're gonna die. I've figured that out, and I quit caring. When it happens to me, I'm gonna be perfectly fine with it, because I'm certainly due for some death. That's a debt we all owe, and that's a debt we'll sure as hell all pay. Tell me you're wrong all you want, but when the reaper comes knockin' on your door, well.” She shrugged, grinning, “Guess we'll know who was right then, huh?”

“And all that stuff that's in the middle of all that? The romance, the closeness, the friends, the family, the stuff like that? They come, and they go. Just like you. So while all of you people wanna kriff, and wanna kiss, and wanna stand around complaining or making wedding plans or doing all of that stuff? You're welcome to. I'll complain, and moan, but you're more than welcome to. 'Cause that's how you wanna spend your time. But as for me, I've gotta kill for the sake of living. That's how I work, and that's how I am.”

“Also, if somebody hasn't said in some ancient saying or something that by the time you're talking to yourself alone in an empty ship that you've named means you're crazy, I'll say it right now. I've got to be kriffing nuts. Nobody'll ever see this. And if you do see it, it's 'cause I let you, 'cause anybody who tries to get a hold of my files?” she made a blaster with her hand, pointing it towards the camera, “We'll be seeing each other soon. On that topic, and to any other psychopaths and sociopaths who may want to break into this line of work, I'd suggest having other skills. There's a good chance you might suck at this, and it's best to have something to fall back on. I slice, and deliver crap. Messages. Mail. Packages. Been doing a lot of that lately. Boring as hell. Not recommended, but you've got to do what you've got to do.”

She rested back in the chair, resting her hands behind her head, “Think that's all I've got to say on that. Lot about me. Does that make these self-centered? I guess that's kind of the point, ain't it. Is what it is, I guess.”

[[Ending recording.

Exiting Video Playback.

Logging Out.

Shutting Down.]]

Bedtime Stories, Undead Raptors, and Mind Control

     While perhaps not the first setting or tool one may think of when dwelling on how they wish to tell a story and bring/drag people through a campaign with roleplaying at the forefront, the following occurred to an innocent(not) party of adventures in an MMO that has yet, despite many's cries that such is upon it with nearly every action, has yet to keel over and die.

     It began with this party, a group of deceased knights organized into a military unit, being called upon by a settlement in the cold lands of the north. While at first they saw nothing out of the ordinary, aside from odd glances from the living, it was soon discovered by them that by nightfall, the town came under siege by bands of howling, undead wolf creatures. With their nature being tied to the party's kind, they had been called upon to aid the village.

     Following the trail left by the creatures to an abandoned old castle, the party came across a number of pages from a tome on raising the dead, one that had signs of having once been among their own but that now found itself in a breather's hands. Trailing behind them was a shadowy figure, who escaped upon being discovered, leaving behind two of the creatures from earlier to cover her retreat, named 'Mr. Hugs' and 'Mr. Snuggles'.

     Weeks later the party would be called upon again for a similar situation, this time a small camp plagued by undead raptors that swarmed at random. Fighting back the raptors, the party followed them into the forests, and finally to a small clearing. Once there, the party stumbled upon a woman, likely in her early twenties.

     Despite her apparent age, the woman acted with the energy of a child, and had a personality to match. Bouncing around eagerly, she treated her undead monstrosities like pets, even having a rotting gryphon which she had dubbed 'Fluffy'. Upon their arrival, she trapped the group in a ring of fire, but prevented them from reaching her by summoning a line of fire down the center of the circle. While her pets leaped from the outside in to attack the party, one member approached the girl, kneeling down and pulling a storybook from her things.

     As the woman-child warlock enclosed the undead storytelling woman in a circle of fire all her own, trapping her even more than her companions, the others fought off the undead beasts, which were soon enough joined by a hulking T-Rex. The girl, though, was enthralled by the tale, and paid the others no mind. The T-Rex met its end when someone allowed themselves to be eaten, detonating something from within the beast, and exiting unharmed. Angered at the loss of her pets, the woman stomped her feet, pouted, and fled on her rotting gryphon.

     As she fled, her thoughts drifted to the woman who had read her a bedtime story, and whether or not she could control her the way she controlled her 'pets'. Of course, that was not how she saw such. To her it was a matter of 'waking' up something that was 'sleeping', not reviving something once decided as a slave of sorts.

     Following an investigation into the woman's origins, the group discovered that she had come from a town to the south, that was covered in gloom. Her father had been a drunk, and her mother a person whose mind had long since broken. Both were long since in the ground. The woman had gone to live off on her own, discovering an abandoned tower, choosing to live there, practicing mastering the fire-based magic. That was until her only companion, her faithful dog, was killed by wolves.

     The group would go weeks without meeting the warlock, until she sent a message, summoning the storytelling soldier to meet with her again. Once she arrived, the soldier found herself blocked inside by magic, while her companions were stuck outside trying to find a way in. Once they had managed to do so, they found that the warlock had managed to do as she planned. The storytelling soldier believed herself to be the warlock's mother, and the warlock her younger child that needed to be defended from the undead monstrosities that were threatening her now.

     After much fighting, facing off against their own friend and the bones of a long dead dragon, magically brought back together and given life, the heroes of our tale emerged triumphant and freed their friend. The warlock was spared from being killed, instead being handed over to people who would hopefully help her recover mentally, and also learn to control her abilities, as was insisted by a merciful member of the group.

     Time would pass, and the group would fully recover from such quickly, while the warlock would do her best to learn proper magic training. This was, of course, just one of this particular group of the damned's many tales. But those are another story.

Unchained

   

     Her gaze remained on the man sitting behind the desk, her expression giving the impression that she couldn't have been more bored. Despite this she did not once allow herself to break her posture, back rigid, hands folded behind it.

     As tempted as she was to allow her eyes to wander around the office, she wasn't even going to give him the pleasure of thinking he was getting to her. Besides, she had seen it a few times now. The walls were made of a reflective metal that gleamed in the bright light, spaced evenly from each other to form a decent sized box. To her left stood a bookcase littered with a number of older tomes and texts, to her right a glass case displaying medals, trophies, and photos. 

     After some time had passed she rolled her eyes, Imperial accent coming through clearly when she spoke, "Major."

     "We've been over this a number of times," he muttered, not looking up once from his work, "I am a very busy person. When I am free and can get around to your requests, I will consider doing so." He fell silent again, continuing to tap away at his console. 

     She rolled her eyes, a hand leaving its position behind her back to motion at the console. Xulmisi smirked to herself as the Major let out a number of curses, before staring at her. Her tone carried an air of amusement now, "Now that I have your attention. I would prefer having my permits processed now, Major. Especially considering I am unable to have any of my digs continue to work without them."

     "And I will repeat myself again," he started, before being cut off by her raising a hand. 

     "Please stand, Major," she said, motioning for him to rise. 

     Major O'Connell muttered something to himself, but stood all the same. She seemed even more amused now, a smirk firmly in place on her face. "Repeat what you just said, but to where I can hear it."

     O'Connell scowled, growling loud enough for his voice to echo off the walls, "I can't say I've ever been reprimanded by a slave before." 

     "Lovely. Exactly what I thought you said," she replied, both hands coming forward now. She idly motioned upward with her right hand, and closed her left as if grabbing something. Behind the desk the Major slowly rose from the ground, gripping his throat. 

      The Twi'lek looked him over, shaking her head, "And now you've brought me to such a generic form of making you understand." She frowned, motioning towards the wall, the man flying towards it as if flicked by some giant unseen creature. "I have to be a bit more creative, don't I."

     O'Connell slid along the wall, ending up in a pile on the floor. He slowly sat up, taking deep, desperate breathes. She slowly walked over towards him, staring down at him. He slowly worked his way into the corner, like an animal with nowhere to run. 

     Her voice remained calm, the amusement gone for now, "Now, Major. I want you to understand something. I am not a slave. I was at one point, but I am such no longer." He was still breathing hard, and only acknowledged her by spitting at her feet. 

     She kneeled down, grabbing his chin with one hand, pulling his face to where he was looking directly at her, "I am a Dark Lady of the Sith, Major. And you are being horribly disrespectful to me. And we cannot have that."

     "And just what are you going to do about it?"

     She gently patted the side of his head, a horrible grin creeping onto her face, "They say there is no such thing as a stupid question. But there are certainly those you will regret asking." With that she stood, turning and walking back over towards the desk. 

     Behind her the man's face twisted into a look of pure terror as he tried to force himself more and more into the corner, trying to escape some unseen horror. She paid him no mind. 

     She hit the button on his desk that would call his secretary. As much as she tried, she could not for the life of her recall the secretary's name, simply deciding not to bother, "Please send in the person directly under Major O'Connell." 

     Walking back towards the door, Xulmisi returned to her previous stance, back straight, hands folded behind it. After a few minutes had passed, another man entered, this one slightly younger. 

     Upon seeing her he quickly offered a salute, standing at attention, "My lady, what can I do for you?"

     She smiled sharkishly, "I am simply here to congratulate you," she trailed off, looking for his name and rank, "Captain Connors. You've been promoted, and with such you will be rewarded with this lovely office."

     Captain Connors frowned, shaking his head, "This is Major O'Connell's office, my lady."

     She couldn't help but smirk, "He will no longer be needing it. Of course you will inherit his work as well, but I'm sure that will not be difficult for you. It would be absolutely lovely of you to get my permits signed for." 

     She slowly walked around him, watching his eyes search the room for, and finally find the Major. When she knew he had done so, she lowered her voice, any sort of pleasantness in it having vanished, "I'm certain you will be much easier to work with than your predecessor."

     Connors gulped loudly, nodding. With that said, she exited the room, leaving him to pick up the still terrified Major from where he was cowering in the corner, fleeing whatever his mind decided was most terrifying. 

The Accountant's Ledger: Entry 2

Warning: Violence


[[Accessing Datapad...

Username: dmalcolm

Password: *********

Access Granted.

Selecting application.

Record selected.

Connecting to Camera 1 feed...

Connected.

Recording beginning.]]

The camera's feed slowly cuts in, revealing a small room on an older ship. Front and center, about halfway back from the camera, sits a man. His hands and feet seem to be bound to a chair with what might be tape, his mouth taped shut as well. His eyes are focused on someone, apparently someone behind the camera, his gaze filled with poison.

“Is it on?” a voice from behind the camera said. “Is the little light blinking?” The man just stared. “Nod your head if the light is blinking.” There was a sigh, before a Chiss's face appeared in the from, a small smirk on her face as she looked at the shot, “Oh I see how we're gonna be. It's gonna be a long night for you pal.”

Seeming satisfied, she stepped out, walking behind the chair. Running her hand along the man's shoulder, she smirked even more, “Hey mister Ogotta the Hutt. This here's that guy you've got a mark out for, and this...” she stuck a hand down the man's left pants pocket, fishing out a small card, “Is probably the info he stole.”

The man squirmed in his seat, but did nothing else. She held the card in front of his face, “Now is this the...” She blinked, looking back towards the camera, “Oh. Right. Confirmation, first.” Walking around to where she was in front of the man, Daeria tore the tape from his mouth, laughing when he recoiled in pain. “Now then, what's your name again?”

When he had recovered, he stared up at the Chiss, before spitting in her face. She shook her head, pulling her blaster from her belt. He only grinned in return, “Kriff off.”

She glanced back at the camera, before shooting him in the foot. He reeled back again, howling in pain. “Your parents must have been really mean to name you 'Kriff Off'. So, wanna try it again? 'Cause it looks like you have two feet there.”

The man appeared like he was ready to cry, and was biting his lip. Finally he opened his mouth to speak, regaining some of his composure, “Christopher Wells.”

She smirked, nodding. Holding the data card in front of his face again, she couldn't have sounded more amused, “Now. Is this the data you stole from the angry Hutt?”

Wells gulped, staring at the card, and then shifted his gaze to the Chiss. Then he looked at the card, and then the Chiss. “I have no idea,” he finally said, almost in a whimper.

Daeria shook her head, before bringing her right elbow down against his right forearm. There was a horrible cracking noise as he howled in pain again, this time the tears coming. “Let me put it this way,” she said, circling him, running a finger along his shoulder as she did so, “You're just the data guy, am I right? You're just the data guy. You aren't the guy who wanted the data, so what really does it matter to you? It was just a job, right? Just give it up. What? Are you worried that someone else is gonna hurt you when we're done here? Little late for that, don't you think?”

He looked away, biting his lip again, slowly shaking his head. She crouched down slightly, staring him in the eyes, holding his head to try to focus his view, “So lets try this again. Did you steal this data. From Ogotta the Hutt?” Looking away, the man slowly nodded. “Good boy.”

She stood, walking back over to look directly at the camera, “Alright. There you have it. I'll be dropping him off once you've got this confirmation and all that crap.” Looking back at the man, she muttered, “Mark cut. This parts for me.”

She turned, striding back over to the man, “So. It's a long flight. What do you think we should do with that?” Casually running her finger down his arm, she pressed it into the part she had broken, watching him scream again. “Would watch you squirm, I guess. But that ain't much fun. Got any cybernetics in you? Help with the slicing or anything? Maybe I could see about playing around with those. But I guess I shouldn't kill you, considering I'm not getting paid to kill you. Not in the contract, can't do it.” She tapped her chin. “I'll think about it.”

Striding out of the camera's view, the Chiss whistled softly. The feed would die soon afterward.

[[Ending Recording...

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