Data File - 8105451126870021 "Morning Upkeep"
Data source: Classified
Location: Tyamir Wastes
Submission notes: "After correlation of our data around this time and the examination of this entry I've determined that this local notable may be involved. Request home office assign a gamma asset to observe."
-Playing entry-
Things start as they always in the wastes, at the Nadaru cantina. I'd just come back from a two day escort contract, spanning from the last mud hole Seratt to the silver spoon of the desert Dsyima. I was drinking off the fatigue and sand rash at an hour no reasonable folk would think to stir from their bed.
Sitting stage side with less than a handful of other patrons scattered around the place. I recall the room is warm aside from the occasional cold breeze swirling about my ankles, courtesy of the rickety entrance hall. The heater next to me humming in its struggling to keep out the night desert's chill. It's calm, the music little more than a faint ambiance only disturbed by the occasional clank of glasses as barkeep tides up. Not that it was needed. Junix's joint was pretty clean all things considered. On the stage in-front of me Cylia is dancing. While absently staring at her feet lipping inaudibly "one, two, three" as she moves in step. Her hand attached to the dance pole as if to keep her from being swept off the stage by the next stray breeze. Sweet girl but not an ounce of rhythm in her petite little hips. Her talents are far better suited to working with her oil stained hands. I slide five-hundred creds onto the stage and slammed the last of my Atehri spice liquor. Her eyes sweep vacantly from the credstick to me. Her eyes lighting up as she stirs back to reality. Smiling the sweetest smile this side of the Sand-sea she waves to Junix and picks up the credstick. Stepping down from the stage she extends her hand and escorts me to a locked door in the basement.
The lights in the room flicker on revealing a may-raid of tools, machinery and boxes. At the far end is a tidy workbench. She cheerfully tugs my hand as she rounds the workbench "The usual!?" I pull out my gear and lay it on the table one at a time; visor, rifle, and other assorted necessities. "I need a checkup on the rifle its output is feeling subdued. and my visor took a hard knock courtesy of an Uhakir shock rod so it needs some looking after." glancing over the rifle she hefts it for examination with a grunt. Her face contorting as she opens the upper receiver of the rifle. With a voice lacking any surprise flutes "You have burnt out my regulator and the accelerator's containment again. You run the out stream to high." Placing the rifle on the table once again and slowly turns to gently cup the visor in hand. Tears well up in her eyes as she looks forlorn at its shattered remains. "It's dead. You broke your birthday gift." Stroking the rim as if it were a dear pet that had passed. I felt a minor grimace flash across on my face, no one could make me feel guilty quite like Cylia.
Laying a hand on the rifle "I can get this working again in a few hours. It will of course need tuning afterwards." Wistfully glancing at the visor. "The visor was one of a kind, I don't have the Very. . . Rare. . . Parts. . . to replace it. You will need to find your own name brand replacement with the features you need." With a dismissive wave to the rest of the table. "I can do checkups and tuning on all this other stuff in short order." Looking over the items I inquire "So what I'm I looking at?" Placing a hand on her hip and looking over the assortment "Everything will be done by tonight, my usual costs apply." Reaching into my pocket I ring up the numbers on a credstick and tossing it onto the table I turn and walk away. I hear her pick up the stick behind me. "twenty-five thousand in creds all accounted for Cylia." whimsically patronizing Cylia's voice rings out "I've told you never to pay upfront! You'll get taken advantage of." I shot back with my best cheerfully dismissive tone "I'll be back to pick up my gear tonight." I walked out the door to find my next meal ticket.
-Opening links-
. . . Warning! . . .
You are trying to access restricted documents. Please remain clam and stay where you are. Authorities are on their way to your location. Please do not make any attempts to escape deadly force has been authorized. All personal information and credentials have been transmitted from your terminal. A penal document has been sent to your legal representative.
. . . Stream terminated . . .
Location: Tyamir Wastes
Submission notes: "After correlation of our data around this time and the examination of this entry I've determined that this local notable may be involved. Request home office assign a gamma asset to observe."
-Playing entry-
Things start as they always in the wastes, at the Nadaru cantina. I'd just come back from a two day escort contract, spanning from the last mud hole Seratt to the silver spoon of the desert Dsyima. I was drinking off the fatigue and sand rash at an hour no reasonable folk would think to stir from their bed.
Sitting stage side with less than a handful of other patrons scattered around the place. I recall the room is warm aside from the occasional cold breeze swirling about my ankles, courtesy of the rickety entrance hall. The heater next to me humming in its struggling to keep out the night desert's chill. It's calm, the music little more than a faint ambiance only disturbed by the occasional clank of glasses as barkeep tides up. Not that it was needed. Junix's joint was pretty clean all things considered. On the stage in-front of me Cylia is dancing. While absently staring at her feet lipping inaudibly "one, two, three" as she moves in step. Her hand attached to the dance pole as if to keep her from being swept off the stage by the next stray breeze. Sweet girl but not an ounce of rhythm in her petite little hips. Her talents are far better suited to working with her oil stained hands. I slide five-hundred creds onto the stage and slammed the last of my Atehri spice liquor. Her eyes sweep vacantly from the credstick to me. Her eyes lighting up as she stirs back to reality. Smiling the sweetest smile this side of the Sand-sea she waves to Junix and picks up the credstick. Stepping down from the stage she extends her hand and escorts me to a locked door in the basement.
The lights in the room flicker on revealing a may-raid of tools, machinery and boxes. At the far end is a tidy workbench. She cheerfully tugs my hand as she rounds the workbench "The usual!?" I pull out my gear and lay it on the table one at a time; visor, rifle, and other assorted necessities. "I need a checkup on the rifle its output is feeling subdued. and my visor took a hard knock courtesy of an Uhakir shock rod so it needs some looking after." glancing over the rifle she hefts it for examination with a grunt. Her face contorting as she opens the upper receiver of the rifle. With a voice lacking any surprise flutes "You have burnt out my regulator and the accelerator's containment again. You run the out stream to high." Placing the rifle on the table once again and slowly turns to gently cup the visor in hand. Tears well up in her eyes as she looks forlorn at its shattered remains. "It's dead. You broke your birthday gift." Stroking the rim as if it were a dear pet that had passed. I felt a minor grimace flash across on my face, no one could make me feel guilty quite like Cylia.
Laying a hand on the rifle "I can get this working again in a few hours. It will of course need tuning afterwards." Wistfully glancing at the visor. "The visor was one of a kind, I don't have the Very. . . Rare. . . Parts. . . to replace it. You will need to find your own name brand replacement with the features you need." With a dismissive wave to the rest of the table. "I can do checkups and tuning on all this other stuff in short order." Looking over the items I inquire "So what I'm I looking at?" Placing a hand on her hip and looking over the assortment "Everything will be done by tonight, my usual costs apply." Reaching into my pocket I ring up the numbers on a credstick and tossing it onto the table I turn and walk away. I hear her pick up the stick behind me. "twenty-five thousand in creds all accounted for Cylia." whimsically patronizing Cylia's voice rings out "I've told you never to pay upfront! You'll get taken advantage of." I shot back with my best cheerfully dismissive tone "I'll be back to pick up my gear tonight." I walked out the door to find my next meal ticket.
-Opening links-
. . . Warning! . . .
You are trying to access restricted documents. Please remain clam and stay where you are. Authorities are on their way to your location. Please do not make any attempts to escape deadly force has been authorized. All personal information and credentials have been transmitted from your terminal. A penal document has been sent to your legal representative.
. . . Stream terminated . . .
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