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Old 19-06-2002, 09:27 AM   #1   [permalink]
Pen2
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CB Session One - The World In Ice

"It's on, you know."

"Eh...Wha?"

"It's starting."

"Yeah, yeah.... I'm on it."

Deirdre blinked awake, dominating the only couch in front of the TV with her prone form. Griff stood to the side expectantly, but Deirdre made no pretense of intending to make room. She stretched briefly before lazing back down again, her eyes immediately drooping closed again.

"I don't see why we can't just record the damn thing."

"Then you buy the recorder. Besides, we want to start as early as possible, right?"

One of the major problems in space, Deirdre realised for the third time that Terran week, was that time differences were a -----.

Live from an undisclosed location amongst the stars, get ready for the next installment of The Hunted!

Deirdre was so captivated that she immediately fell asleep again. When Griff nudged her back awake, the show was already well underway. She noted with no small amount of irritation that Griff was now occupying the couch and she was sprawled over the cold metal floor.

The show was a simple enough premise. With the primary source of bounty information going down the tube financially, its producers decided to go with a concept that would looked like it would never die. Five hunters! Nine planets! Each hunter would set after one of the bounties currently posted in the solar system, with the specifics of each bounty available and who was offering the bounty being laboured over in gratuitous detail just so the audience could catch on themselves. The camera crews followed the five hunters around the system, keeping tabs on their successes, losses and personal lives to the remotest detail. Needless to say, the audience had expanded far beyond would-be cowboys, and the producers were probably wiping their crevices with large wads of woolongs right now. Deirdre thought all this to herself quietly, hating the show with a passion and yet somehow subconsciously knowing that she cared deeply for the welfare of each of the 'celebrity' hunters....bar one. The hunter in question was currently being followed through a dramatic gunfight on Mimas, the camera making a daring sweep to fully capture the roguish smile on her features.

"Look at her. Shard's such a ------- two-bit whore."

Griff interrupted her before she could launch into a jealous tirade. They'd had this conversation many, many times before. He was scribbling near illegibly on a notepad, pausing to hit a few keys on the flatscreen computer hesitantly.

"Okay, the guy we're after has been put up by the Europan republic. His name's Keiran, he...."

"Wait, wait...when did we decide this?"

"We took a ship vote while you were sleeping. We had one affirmitive and one abstaining."

Deirdre started to warm up to a full blown argument, scrabbling for every expletive her mind could grab a hold of. Then Griff told her the bounty was 9 million woolongs, and she shut up.


-----


Griff took one last puff of his cigarette before tossing it to the warm earth below. As he stepped forward the pavement seemed to sizzle, letting off a thin stream of steam that rose to the rugged mans ankles and then slowly faded. Needless to say, it was a hot day on Mars... Griff glanced upward and wiped his brow.
Several shady looking merchant carts were positioned alongside the road with two middle aged men quietly conversing in front of them. Griff stretched both arms behind his back, letting a sloppy grin spread across his unshaven face as he approached the merchants.
"Lovely day... ehheh?"
Griff said, leaning in towards the man on the right. The merchant reeled back in apparent disgust as he scratched a thick lump of hair on his bulbous head, fingering a pack of crushed cigarettes in his jackets pocket. At first neither uttered a reply, yet Griff did not let his expression slip.
"Sooo..." Griff started again "You didnt happen to see anyone... suspicious pass by? ehh?" He finished with a smile.
The merchant on the left mustered up enough courage to lean foreward.
"Yer the first we seen all day." He muttered gruffly, bringing some kind of closure to any potential inquiries..
"Gee... thanks." Griff replied, pulling back from the mans horrid breath and stiff glare.

After a moment of awkward silence the rugged man slowly turned his back and shot one hand up at the two merchants who remained poised, obviously wanting nothing to do with any 'suspicious' looking strangers.
"You fellas have a good day now." Griff murmered as he returned to his previous path. Only after several strides did he reveal a crushed pack of cigarettes from his closed palm.
*Damn its hot*


------


This had to be one of his favorite places to be. Keiran had just recently lost his gun, so this trip was all business. He had a thing for pistols, but this time he was looking at the revolvers. He had no idea why, maybe it was the because of the other night, but he was not getting another pistol for a while. He was deep in thought when he saw it, his new revolver, a Colt Python. He grabbed it and took it up to the counter, "I'll take this and 5 boxes of ammo for it." he said. The total wasn't as much as he thought it would be so after purchasing the gun he started to ask if he had any accesories when he walked in. The man just walked in and stood by the door. He didn't say anything, and from the angle he was at Keiran couldn't tell what he was looking at. "Anyways, what accessories do you stock for this model?" Keiran asked while loading his new revolver. The door opened again and she walked in. The man was still standing by the door and this started to trigger suspicious thoughts in Keirans mind, but he started to ignore the man once again since the woman was walking around the store and he still gotten his question answered.

The woman walked around the store cautiously, looking like she was completely lost. The owner, seeing an opportunity for an easy sale, glided across and prepared to point out anything with a particularly high price tag. Eventually the woman spoke.

"I'd like to buy a gun."

The owner acted as if that was a surprising thing and began to lift an expensive looking rifle from a glass display cabinet above his head. He was paused, however, as the woman simply pointed to a handgun in a side cabinet.

"That one."

Startled, the shopkeeper pulled the cabinet open and handed over the weapon for inspection. The woman took one look at it, nodded, and handed over a fair amount of money in very small change. The owner, grumbling, took a rough guess at how much money he'd been given, walked to the register and dumped al the money within. He grabbed three empty magazines, blew the dust off them, and grabbed the cheapest box of ammunition he had. If his math had been right, he'd just sold the gun and ammo for around twice what it was worth. He thought. He smiled, handed the ammunition over, smiled, went back behind the counter and smiled again just for the hell of it.

Keiran sidled over, noting the weapon that the woman was slowly figuring out how to load.

"Ahh, a Beretta 92FS Inox. Not a bad choice, but a bit old fashioned. They'd worked the kinks out of the 92 series by then, so you shouldn't have any problems with it."

Deirdre smiled benignly, clicking the safety off as she raised the gun to Keiran's face.

"Well that's a relief."
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Old 19-06-2002, 08:21 PM   #2   [permalink]
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Space

Griff rested his head against a cold steel panelling to his right. The slow hum of the computer screens before him were like music to the ears and the blackness of space painted a cold veiw through the various monitors.

The 'Exodus' is what the machanic had named this ship six years ago, and ever since then he had been with it in one way or another. It was a large space cruiser that harboured years of Griffs blood, sweat, and tears... Only now, it did not rightly belong to him.
*strange* he thought, glancing over at the latest bounty head -The first one they had captured in what seemed like weeks- *what money can do to some people...* He put a rough hand to his brow *or the lack there of*

After a moments pause Griff leaned forward, glancing only slightly at Keiran as he set specific coordinates into the monitor.
"Europa." the mechanic said aloud.
"You from there, or just have bad business there?"
He smiled, leaning back again and closing his eyes.
"I guess it doesnt matter."

Last edited by DrZepp; 19-06-2002 at 11:33 PM.
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Old 20-06-2002, 12:17 AM   #3   [permalink]
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"Heh, I can't believe you got me so easily." Keiran said from his cell in the control room. "I take it, since were going to Europa you're going to trade me in for the "other" bounty. I'd also bet that since you're taking me in for the higher bounty you're in this for the money. I mean if they are offering you 9 million, what I have must be worth a lot more. Let me out of this cell, and I'll cut you in on the deal. We can sell it, split the money, and just forget about this whole turning me in for a bounty. Come on sweetie, I can see the intrest in your eyes."
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Old 20-06-2002, 12:31 AM   #4   [permalink]
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Europa


"Another shot," the loud and now obviously drunk woman at the end of the bar yelled. The bartender sighed as he polished wine glasses at the other end with a white cloth. Customers like her rarely came into his fine establishment, but the large wad of cash she had flashed about was more than enough to gain her enterance. He had assumed she would have a few drinks and be on her way. More than a dozen shots later, she was still here and becoming more rowdy and obnoxious by the moment. A group of high classed customers had already walked out while others stole glances of disapproval at her. Comments of dissatisfaction had already come back to him through his waitresses. Stocking up all his courage, he prepared to have a talk with the girl.

As he approached her from the other end of the bar, he marvelled at her strange appearance. She held her glass with both hands, wearing silk gloves with the fingers ripped off to expose her shiny black nails. Half of a pair of old handcuffs were fashioned as a bracelet on her right wrist, the chain dangling from it broken off. Her t-shirt bore the logo of a long forgotten rock'n'roll band, partially concealed behind a loosely worn red leather tie and black suspenders. But it was her face that shocked the bartender the most. A safety pin through the eyebrow was the centrepiece of many piercings that adorned the girl's nose and ears. And her bright red hair was styled into a spiky mohawk with each spike standing six inches in height.

If not for her style, she could have been referred to as quite beautiful by the bartender. Her fiery eyes radiated with stunning intensity and her figure was that of a model; tall and elegant. But the spell was broken when the young woman opened her mouth again.

"Where's my drink, barkeep?" she shouted in her thick Irish drawl. "Don't tell me you want more money. Well, here you go, you lousy overpriced thief." she slurred as she tossed another credit chip his way.

"No. It isn't that ma'am." the barkeep replied. "You're beginning to disturb the other customers and I think it would be best if you went home and got some rest. You seem to have had enough to drink for the night."

She stared at him with utter indignation. She opened her mouth to retort but changed her mind, raising her hands in surrender and standing up.

"Dat's fine," she said softly. "I'll go find some folk of less discriminating tastes. The smell of the upper class pretentiousness was beginning to get to me anyway. Time to find a place where the smell of stale beer and vomit isn't hidden behind expensive perfumes."

She turned her back on the bar with a dismissing wave of her hand and walked towards the door, pushing it open with her boot and stepping outside.

Now where did I park? Lola thought as she stood looking down the street with her hand on her hips.
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Old 20-06-2002, 01:34 AM   #5   [permalink]
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Mars

As daylight burned away the final wisps of an early morning fog, Austen Heller got pissed off.

Some street punk had messed with his shop sign the night before, both painting over the neat lettering and knocking it to the ground. Silently standing over the vandalism, Austen instinctively patted his machine pistol at his hip. Let that little ---- try that again...

Walking back inside with the sign in hand, he turned on the TV, muted it, and then flipped the dial on an old stereo system. What could only be described as rhythmic electronic noise filled the ample salesfloor. He strolled from display to display, adjusting a gun scope here, aligning a few boxes of ammo there, noting with disgust that another wad of gum was stuck under the counter near the register. He knew the guy that did that. He didn't like people messing with his store. But the again, the guy was a repeat and well-off customer.

Austen flicked on the last of the lights and sat down behind the register. He set the sign down and started searching for his phone book for a carpenter, finding the day's newspaper in the process and getting distracted by his thoughts. I wonder who that guy works for. Could be anyone. Local thugs. City Council. His mother. The Syndicate. My mother.

He turned to the entertainment section.

Oh, for Christ's sake! I knew I should have watched "The Hunted" yesterday. I miss all the great action scenes...
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Old 20-06-2002, 10:49 PM   #6   [permalink]
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Ganymede

*thunk*
The chief's left earlobe.
*thunk*
The chief's right nostril.
*thunk*
The gap between the chief's ridiculous buck teeth.

Gill sighed to himself, lazily scrabbling about his desk drawer for more darts. He hadn't yet managed to pin one directly on the chief's bulbous nose just yet. Alas, all the darts he owned now uncerimoniously adorned the chief's portrait, or were sticking out of the ceiling and walls. As he removed his feet from the heap of ancient paperwork that was his desk, a pile of 'important' documents teetered precariously. Immediately, the lanky man went into action, somehow catapulting out of his chair in time to prevent the paper avalanche. Sweating with relief, he shoved the stack back onto a vaguely uncluttered part of the desk and patted it a few times to make sure it would stay. Just in case though, he took the polished plastic "Gillard Glass, ISSP Detective" sign from his desktop and propped the pile up with it. Satisfied with his work, he dusted off his hands and reached for his coat. Lunch time wasn't for another hour, but Gill always liked to get a head start on everything. Except work of course.

Sauntering leisurely down the rather empty mid-day street, a cold breeze ruffled Gill's trenchcoat and the hint of a sun lingered behind a light ceiling of clouds. In the distance, the ever-present ambient rumble of city life could be heard.
How long had he been living on Ganymede? It was a mystery to Gill, all the years must have been so unimportant and uneventful, not a single one had made a significant dent in his memory. But it wasn't so bad, living for the mere sake of living. His days of silly optimism and a gung-ho dream to 'make a difference' were long gone. Gill knew what his place was in life.
Stopping in front of a questionable looking cafe, Gill glanced up and down the streets, then at his watch. He was early of course, but then so was the other guy. Gill watched the man draw near, tipping back his fedora in case the stranger didn't recognize him. Without so much as a glance, the other strode right past Gill, and continued down the street, eventually vanishing into an alley. Gill glanced at the nondescript envelope that rested at his feet. With a grunt, he stooped and picked it up, slipping the prize into his coat and glancing around to make sure nobody had noticed.

He didn't do it for the money. He made sure that the people he dealt with understood that. The most Gill would ever do is look the other direction, or perhaps 'overlook' certain details of a crime scene. Maybe fudge a report or two. Many called him a crooked cop, but it didn't really bother him anymore...since the alternative was a dead cop.
As he began the walk back to his patrol cruiser, Gill whistled a cheerful tune. Maybe he'd go someplace fancy today, instead of the usual sub-par joints he regularly visited. After all, he had the woolongs to burn.
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Old 21-06-2002, 04:46 PM   #7   [permalink]
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Mars

A car drove through the gates of the massive complex, pulling in front of the main entrance.
The guards on duty recognized the Black Sedan as belonging to their boss, and took notice to the fact that the vehicle was riding on its axel. The shrill squeal of metal grinding metal quieted as the car slowed.

One leaned in and whispered to another, “Suspension must be busted, I‘ll tell the driver to head into maintenance when he gets out.”

Rolling to a stop, the car’s back door opened and a large black boot stepped out, the springs groaned under his moving weight, rising to their proper level. A hulking man in a green army overcoat, walked towards the entrance on long, thick legs, with a slow stride. Around his waist was a utility belt, with pouches for extra clips and assorted other items. His massive fists were gloved, also in black, but had the fingers exposed. His face was white, with not a single hair on his head. His continence was blank; an expressionless, hard look on those accustomed with death wear. His eyes seemed dead, the Iris’ an odd speckled red-brown. The color reminded the guards of molten lava as the giant came close.

In the time it took the doormen to take all this in, a woman stepped out of the ride. She spoke quickly, as to avoid the guards trying to stop the titan. “The boss summoned him to do a job, take him up.” With that she sat back inside, and drove off.
___________________________________________

The giant was standing inside a large office on the 80th floor, an armed guards standing on either side of him. The room had the expensive look that all conceded rich people use. Complete with stuffed animals, and priceless art, all collecting dust. He was directly in front of a large polished oak desk. The ‘Boss,’ dressed in a rich blue suit hung up the phone, turning towards the large man.

“You must be Tiamat. I like the code name, but I wander if you’re as good as your reputation claims you to be. ”

The man in the overcoat nodded, he wanted to leave quickly. The smell of the chemicals used to polish and dust the furniture and trophies mixed together.

*/Smells bad. Tiamat hate bad smell. /*

The rich man behind the desk leaned back, “As you may or may not know, I have a job for you. Two people are causing me some trouble, and I want them removed. Now then...” He pointed to the guards standing beside Tiamat. “Enrico and Chris here...”

Tiamat’s left arm shot out, grabbing Chris around the neck, snapping it expertly, while his right drew a sizable pistol from his coat. The gun fired into Enrico’s chest, causing his back to explode in a gush of blood, as the large magnum round shattered a rib in the way and the spinal column. Both bodies hit the floor at the same time.

“Anyone else?” Tiamat asked in a deep rumble, his eyes still blank.

The man in the suit, stared wide-eyed for a moment, then collected himself. He cleared his thought and continued. “I was going to say ‘Enrico and Chris here will set up the projector so you can see the targets.’ But I’ll set it up myself.”
_____________________________________________

Tiamat was back in a car, he couldn’t tell the difference between types of cars, but he knew this was a different one.

*/Smells different. Tiamat didn’t ride here before... /*

The car was taking him to the shuttle-port, there he was to use the ticket the man in the suit gave him and fly to where the targets were. Tiamat would be paid quite a large amount upon completion, but jobs that operate outside of the lay always pay best. The giant of a man didn’t care about how much; he doesn’t even know how much he has in his account. Only that when he needs food, or equipment he uses his plastic card, and it gets paid for.

*/Tiamat doesn’t underatand ‘money,’ but Tiamat need money to live, so Tiamat get money. Tiamat only want to survive. /*

Alone in the back, Tiamat reached into his belt and pulled out a small bottle filled with a cloudy green liquid. He stared at it for the rest of the ride.

Last edited by Brissar; 21-06-2002 at 05:06 PM.
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Old 21-06-2002, 05:14 PM   #8   [permalink]
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Europa

Linc leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the lamp post and could have wept. His legs ached and his neck was screaming at him to go home and take a long, hot shower.

And, of course, he was going to have to go home and face unfriendly accusations and probably a fight.

Can't that little monster just keep herself in bed?

Of course not. Kids lived to make adults lives a living hell. Linc was almost convinced he'd never been a kid. There was no way, no way, that he had been as bad as Madeline.

His pocket beeped at him and he winced around the dogeared cigarette he was currently puffing on. Palming the small device, he flicked it open and almost wilted with misery when Madeline's young, furious face filled the screen.

Oh hell.

"Where are you?!" Her tinny voice shrieked over the poor connection. "You were supposed to be home like an hour ago!"

Linc put on his best smile (which was a little haggard and worn after the work he'd just done) and tried to come up with a way to diffuse the little monster and make her go back to bed.

"Maddy, sweetheart, don't you have school tomorrow?" he asked lamely.

"Weren't you supposed to quit smoking?" she shot back and he flinched, letting the cigarette drop to the asphalt.

"Well... yes," he replied.

"Get back here soon. You have to go to come meet my teachers tomorrow," Maddy reminded him primly.

"Of course," Linc replied quickly. "I'll be home very soon." That was a lie. He said his goodbyes and quickly closed the phone and pocketed it.

He rubbed the back of his neck to work out some of the kinks and then pushed away, turning and starting down the edge of the parking lot. It was going to be one of those nights.
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Old 21-06-2002, 06:09 PM   #9   [permalink]
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Europa

It was a rather slow day where he was working at. Wes Grey stood behind the counter serving people their drinks and watch a few get drunk all day. It was the same as any other day. Some of the bars in Europa get the mass groups, but not where Wes was working. It was always one of the slower and quiet ones.

Wes was behind the counter, with bottle of cold beer and a pack of cigarettes. While having his cold drink and having a smoke, he was reading a newspaper until a drunk man walked in.

"Yo! Bar guy...! Hook a man up well ya?" the guy asked while walking imbalanced.

"As long as you got the bucks," Wes said while looking at his bottle of beer. Then he continued smoking his cigarette and remained quiet.

The man didn't reply. Instead, he went to one of the customers, in his drunken manner, asking for enough money to buy a drink. The customer refused, only to ---- of the stranger. In just minutes a fight between the two started. In just a few minutes more other people joined. It was somewhat bloody, and very noisy, but Wes knew exactly what to do. He pulled out a rifle from one of the cabinets behind the bar and without hesitation, he fired at the wall; then the fight stopped as if time itself had stopped for a moment. The room was completely silent.

"You people should ask yourselves if this bartender has ever killed a man before," he said calmly.

After all that, many of the customers have left silently. Wes thought to himself, 'Oh crap! Not only I turn everyone away again, I wasted another bullet. The boss is gonna have my ------- ass for this like the last time! Oh well…’

Someone sitting in the corner alone, most likely a bounty hunter, had made a request to turn on the television and check if The Hunted was on. The thought of the fight had slipped Wes’ mind quickly as he started searching for the television remote control. He spotted it at the end of one of the shelves stocking liquor and picked it up. Wes turned on the TV searching for the show. After a few minutes of searching, it was not found and was probably missed.

“I’m flippin through all the channels. Can’t find it.”

“Screw it! There’s always tomorrow,” the loner said. He took out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth. Then he took out his lighter to light it up, but it didn’t work.

“Need a light?” Wes asked, while lighting his own cigarette.
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Old 21-06-2002, 09:16 PM   #10   [permalink]
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Josef's shop, Odessa, orbitting Mars

Odessa isn't one of your typical satellites, but by looks you could never tell what it was. A semi-circle was the outside rim of the satellite where ships could dock on either side and garage within the inner portion of the rim, and a large center cylindar, sporting two large solar panels, that housed Josef's living quarters, warehouse, and a 'guest' area for those getting repairs and whatnot to their ships. It's a shop strictly for aurtillary fitting, repair, and modification to whatever you brought to Josef Kapernov, the mechanic aboard this husk of floating metal. A old fashioned type, he doesn't have a tool box but rather tool strewn about the garage, if one gets misplaced by a few feet he'll be looking for it all day.

Josef's pretty reputable. He's done a few odd requests that seem to work out, doesn't know exactly why. But he must have a nack for these things. One thing he always must do before returning the ship to the customer and getting his pay is to test drive to make sure he's gotten the kinks out in case it doesn't feel right. Most don't like that he does that, but why complain if he gets it done right.
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Old 22-06-2002, 06:43 AM   #11   [permalink]
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Above Mars

Griff managed to release a small laugh from his tightly pressed lips. Deirdre remained silent for the moment as Keiran tried to bargain his way out of the situation.
"You must have really screwed something up."
Griff said casually, ignoring the bountys last comment.
"First the ISSP puts a price on your head... and then-"
The mechanic stopped mid sentence, leaning his head back against the cushioned control panells chair. Any more words that could have been spoken were relayed directly to Keiran through the broad smile on Griffs face. Perhaps it was the notion that this would be the hunters highest bounty to date, or perhaps it was the fact that Keiran was their first catch in weeks, but either way Griff found it difficult to disguise his mood.

Suddenly a flashing orb appeared on the computers screen directly in front of Griff, and he abruptly lurched forward. Keiran raised an eyebrow as he tried to catch a glimpse of the monitor from his small cells position.
"Phew..." Griff said after a moment of suspense, leaning back again. "Check it out Deirdre..." The mechanic swivelling his head around.
"Some kind of satellite..."

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Old 22-06-2002, 08:14 AM   #12   [permalink]
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Somewhere off Callisto

Laurence Prescott put down the jeweller's screwdriver and picked up the 000-size paintbrush. Using only the very tip, he carefully cleaned the firing pin mechanisim on his Sig/Sauer P220 9mm. He wiped the tip of the brush on an oiled cloth, and carefully wiped the pin again. He held it up to the light, and used his other hand to push up his sunglasses so he could see clearly. The pin was clean. Laurence smiled a little, and put the brush back down. Picking up the screwdriver again, he started putting his pistol back together. He did this carefully, each turn of the thread made with care and precision.

There really wasnt much else to do on these stake-outs, Laurence reflected to himself as he finished re-assembling his pistol and put it back in the shoulder holster under his suit jacket. He picked up his tools and stood up in the small living compartment of his single-seat ISSP fighter-craft. The machine hung silent in space, its drives and most of its equipment shut down to avoid detection by Laurence's quarry. Laurence put the tools back in their small cloth bag and put it in a locker. He straightened his black tie in the mirror, and pulled his suit jacket back in to line. He checked that his sunglasses where also lined up, and headed back to the cockpit. He sat down, and took a small paperback novel from one pocket.
"Ah... Honor Harrington. Over forty years old, and its still absolute brilliance."
Laurence pulled out the small scrap of paper marking his place and started reading. There really wasnt anything to do out on these stakeouts. As he read, a small part of his mind went over the reason he was out here in the first place.


---

It had been a thin lead, but he had taken it on a hunch and it had paid off. The wildlife-smuggling ring was well organised, but it had only taken one member to sing to get it open. According to his "questioning", there was supposed to be a transfer between two of the ringleaders happening off Callisto in ten days. Laurence had bugged the cheif in to giving him one of the single-seat patrol vessels his station had, and had headed off immediatly. He'd gotten there with a little over 48 hours to spare, and had hidden his fighter in a nearby cluster of asteroids and other metallic junk. He'd set up the fighter's sensor systems to full passive mode, and had catalouged all the junk around him to filter it out. Now, there was only the waiting game to play before the main game started.
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Old 22-06-2002, 08:18 PM   #13   [permalink]
Pen2
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Deirdre grinned a little deviously. "Yeah, that's Josef's garage. I've got a few things I need him to do now that we have the money for it."

She turned back to Keiran, where he was languishing in his little cell. She restrained an urge to poke him with something, but only barely.

"So tell me, is whatever you're worth split three ways going to be better than the 9 million split two ways? Besides, I think I'll stick with the safe money rather than let you go traipsing around on god knows what. Wha'd you do, run over their dog?"
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Old 23-06-2002, 02:23 AM   #14   [permalink]
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*Josefs shop*
Griff groaned inwardly, recalling his memories of the satellite Odessa. The fact that they were in the area had slipped his mind, but he could remember that the owner of the 'shop', Josef, was not exactly fond of bounty hunters.
Luckily Griff had his mechanics wit (he thought) and Deirdre had her... assets. She seemed to be looking forward to the short stop anyway.


Mars

The driver nervously peered back at the beast of a man in his back seat. He asked no questions, yet silently flipped through his file folders as they awaited the shuttle.
"Tiamat." He whispered to himself as he slowly looked foreward, a sweatdrop appearing on his forhead. Something was making him extremely edgy.

The horizon line was beautiful, and within minutes the brilliant white craft landed several yards away from the transport vehicle. The driver quickly exited the car, and spun around, opening the door for his passenger.

Several men clad in black uniforms emerged from the white shuttle, its propulsion system still activated. They slowly began walking towards the driver and Tiamat, yet as they neared one simply motioned for the bulky man to step forward. Again, no words were spoken, and Tiamat slowly followed.

"Your 'objectives' lie on Europa." One of the men said, not breaking stride as they entered the shuttle.
"I trust you will be thorough."



*

The driver leaned back against his car as the shuttles back end released a large amount of smoke that spread outward until it slowly dissapeared into the warm Martian air.
The driver slowly revealed a old and rather worn com radio.
"They have departed." He said, followed by the fuzz of radio stillness.
"w-e cpy- y-u" A broken voice replied after several moments from the other end of the line.
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Old 23-06-2002, 03:28 AM   #15   [permalink]
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"9 million is quite alot of money for just running over a dog, sweetheart." Keiran retorted "Besides, I suppose 4.5 million woolongs isn't bad, if you have no ambition to make money. I made a little more than three times that much on my last hit. And by hit, I mean kill. Professional assassin is my main trade, but I dabble in other things too. Thus, why I'm here. Both ISSP and those black market dealers want the info inside my head, but ISSP tried to be a bit more forceful. Sent a squad after me and I ended up killing two executive officers. So now they not only want the info in my head, but my life. Yet, as long as I don't tell them what they want to know I'll stay alive and well. Must make you wonder what I have that makes two different organizations want me. Must be valuable."
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