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Post by Fiery Firefly on Feb 9, 2014 15:49:47 GMT -8
"Shut up Bryci!" Wyn hissed again, "The door is wide open and he can probably hear you if he's in the halls!"
She scampered into the halls to get the paint, coming back a few moments later with several jars worth. "This is everything I think might work. I dunno."
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lovely corte
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Post by lovely corte on Feb 9, 2014 18:27:33 GMT -8
"Shit, man. Your 'doors' are wide open. He already knows." Bryci added, taking one of the cans from the girl as she carried them over to the vehicle, prying the lid open and inspecting the tone. She went about adjusting it carefully. "Thank you."
"You talk about me fucking Guar after one thing. I get to shit talk you." Bryci continued. "You give what you get. Do onto others as you would yourself and all that shit."
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Feb 21, 2014 23:58:24 GMT -8
It was probably for the best that Kryseis couldn't hear this chatter from her position at the cockpit as she piloted the Balrog through the Adekian skies and then out into orbit before shooting for the relay. Because you know, otherwise there'd be plenty of interesting comments headed Wyn and Bryci's way. "Where to, Captain?" She asked over the intercom.
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Feb 26, 2014 22:56:47 GMT -8
"Sahrabarik System, if you will?" Val replied. "Going back to Omega for a stint. Time is money, after all."
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Feb 28, 2014 19:19:41 GMT -8
"At once, sir." She said, inputting said coordinates while the ship hit space and moved for the relay, being snatched up by the mass effect field and thrown towards the system in question.
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Feb 28, 2014 23:40:32 GMT -8
Val disliked doing business when it wasn't on his terms. Well, that wasn't necessarily true; Val loved doing business. Business was his business, and a trifle little detail like the location of a meeting wasn't going to dissuade him from any sort of arrangement he could reap any sort of profit from. It would, however, dissuade him from packing light, as it were; pistol in his holster, a compact holdout model strapped around his inner thigh, and a pair of crewmen to tag along as an item of muscle. Elam was presently 'under the knife' ( perhaps the invisible quotation marks weren't necessary, Val thought with a shudder) of Doctor Guar, and Miss Wicker was busy willfully assisting Miss Qwib Qwib on the aesthetic maintenance of his antique DeLorean, so Mister Madigan and Mister Underhill would have to suffice; he felt a bit more secure around the former, as a veteran, than the latter, but the pair of rough-and-tough Earthborn Humans would suffice just as well. The business in question would be, as he understood it, the introduction to a new client, and as it stood, his last 'contractual' (in an unspoken, 'do these things for me or I'll feed you to a thresher maw' kind of way) obligation to Aria T'Loak, of which he was eager to escape her overarching grasp. This meeting was not to be held at Aria's personal headquarters and stronghold of Afterlife, much to his perturbation, but a defunct shuttle transport depot nestled in the heart of Omega's Gozu District. As much as he enjoyed wafting in the stench of decay and desperate living, from time to time, he would have preferred it under more liberated circumstances. As the trio approached the shuttle depot, the rusted doors slid open with a light but noticeably annoying screech. A lone Human - pale-skinned and gaunt from frequent substance abuse but barrel-chested enough to appear threatening to the untrained eye - waved Val in, but shook his head at Liam and Waylon. "Not them," he grunted. "They stay out here." "I can assure you, good sir, my companions--" "--they stay out here." Val nodded. "Very well, then," he submitted. He looked to the pair of Humans behind him. "Wait by the door, I'll be fine. This will only take a moment." With that, Val and the goon entered the depot, and the door screeched to a close behind them. "Miss T'loak has certained spared to expense for this particular front, has she?" Val inquired. He was answered by the barrel of a pistol planted against the back of his skull. "Make any hasty moves and you're fuckin' dead." "Duly noted." After a brief, awkward pat-down - both his weapons confiscated from his person, placed on a counter by the entrance - the Human led Val deeper into the dusty garage with many a push and shove, as if he were in a rush. "Now now, sir, no need be hasty," Val chided, though his tone grew much more reserved than before. As he was shoved into the room adjacent to the shuttle garage, he looked upon it with a bit more disdain than the rest of the place: dusty, dimly-lit, with nothing but a long table and a maintenance workbench to distinguish it from the other empty rooms. Mechanical storage room, most likely. At the table sat an Elcor and a Batarian, the latter of which rose to greet him. Val smiled. Finally, a familiar face. "Ah, Bray," he said, as if he were expecting him. "It's been far too long! What's it been, two, three--" "--shut up, Caligulus," the weathered, yellow-armored Batarian said, his permanent frown all the more prominent with Val in the room. He motioned for the Human goon to sit him down in the nearest open chair, by the workbench, which he obliged with a rough shove, Val nearly stumbling over in the process. The Turian sat himself down, once again, as if the violent treatment did nothing to phase him. "Hands on the table." Val once again obliged, rest his arms on the face of the table comfortably. He noticed the Human had moved behind him. He visibly tensed, but maintained his business composure. "Oh, come now, Bray, we've known each other far too long for such thuggish pleasantries," Val said with a smile. Bray moved in, and he felt the Human begin to pat him down again. "and I have the distinct memory of receiving a similar greeting at the door, I believe," he glanced backward at the Human, who paid no attention to him as he searched below his arms, moving down toward his hands. The Human grabbed his left wrist tightly, and Bray was gone from where he was before. "Bray, this is starting to get ridic--" Val found himself cut short as a rusted nail was driven through his three-digited hand by a large, heavy hammer, piercing through flesh and tendon with a bit of bloody splatter and exiting out of his palm to end somewhere within the table, pinning him to it. The Turian made a sharp, pained sound from behind clenched teeth, his bleary eyes tightly closed as he smashed his free fist against the table, shaking his head violently his nailed hand spasmed. As he battled through a brief state of delirium, Bray spoke. "What's ridiculous is you keeping that fuckin' red sand shipment three days late, shitsack," he growled. "A-As I-I told . . . Miss T'Loak, Bray," Val managed to get out of himself, shaky and pained as he fought away the tears from his closed eyes. "The cargo . . . had to go through . . . go through a third p-party . . . oh, my goodness . . . to maintain the utmost secrecy. I know how she likes to be d-discreet . . ." Returning to his original seat, Bray motioned to the Elcor across from Val. "Val, This is Karnyn. Karnyn, this sorry excuse for a Turian is Val Caligulus." Val somehow smiled through the pain. "Pleasure to meet you, Mister Karnyn," he said, breathing sharply. "I'd shake on it, but . . ."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Mar 1, 2014 19:04:23 GMT -8
One more stroke and...
"DONE!" Wyn chirped out, "All thats left to do now is for it to dry! Thanks for the help Bryci."
She backed away from the DeLorian carefully to make sure she didn't smudge the paint, picking at the paint that has stained her gloves during the process, "You really should of gone with him though. I hate how we had to start going to all the contractual trips to Omega, right as that Archangel fuck appeared. I just... worry you know. And he never takes me with him unless he's taking all of us. He trusts everyone but me to protect him."
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lovely corte
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Post by lovely corte on Mar 1, 2014 23:58:26 GMT -8
"You're a bitch, that's why." Bryci said, putting away the utensils and making sure they were secure before she returned to the Quarian, peeling paint off of her calloused hands, looking at the girl and smiling playfully at her. "One, he wants your sweet coochie. Two, you're not built for it."
"You're built for Quarian shit." She continued. "And frankly, Quarians are not built for fighting."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Mar 2, 2014 2:42:07 GMT -8
"Why the hell do you think he wants me? If he wanted me, would he be treating his car as if its worth me losing my pay over?" Wyn said. "And I dare you to tell my marine grandfather that Quarians aren't made for fighting or any Flotilla marine for that matter. They don't fuck around."
She was silent for a second, "Hey do you wanna like check on Elam or something. I'm worried about him too."
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Post by Frahnkenshteen on Mar 3, 2014 19:35:30 GMT -8
"PLEASANT GREETING: The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Caligulus. CONCERNED: Perhaps quite literally, considering your current predicament. My, that nail is quite deep in there, isn't it," Karnyn droned in his species' trademark monotone.
The large grey quadruped slowly swayed his head to speak to the Batarian next to his right, the Turian across the table from them continuing to writhe in agony for the long duration of this. "UNIMPRESSED: Bray, is the violence really necessary here? I understand the intent, but I would certainly hope that Mrs. T'Loak would be trusting someone a bit more.... " the Elcor paused for a few seconds.
"POINTING OUT THE OBVIOUS: Well, I hope this isn't a common occurrence. I trust that Miss T'Loak is putting me in the hands of someone not only trustworthy, but qualified as well. No offense intended, Mr. Caligulus."
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lovely corte
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Post by lovely corte on Mar 6, 2014 1:32:17 GMT -8
"You people get scratched and you're rushing to the emergency room." Bryci teased, looking at the Quarian girl and adjusting her festive hat over her shaved skull, smiling at her. She came up next to her and clasped her hands on either side of the Quarian girl's angular face. "My people have been fucking each other up for centuries."
"He's a tease. A real cunt of a tease." Bryci continued. "Work it, Wyn. Shake your pert ass and get me a raise."
"Uuuh, sure. If Guar lets us, yeah." She nodded, standing up and stretching. "Ready."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Mar 7, 2014 21:18:39 GMT -8
"Yeah but Quarian marines are super strong and buff... I gotta say its only when I saw marines did I feel like I was attracted to my own species. Most Quarian boys are kind of scrawny. It comes from living life on a ship." Wyn said. "I mean I like some scrawny guys, but still."
As she talked to Bryci she made her way down the halls and to the door of the med bay. "Hey Doctor!" she yelled knocking on the door slightly, "Can I come in?"
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Post by Penny Royals on Mar 7, 2014 23:21:57 GMT -8
Liam wasn't exactly certain what they were going on doing with this mission, or why they had been sent as bodyguards for Val- well, scratch that. Liam knew they were basically being used as muscle in case something bad happened along the way, but the worst thing that could happen would probably happen now that he was gone away from them, and they were waiting outside the doors.
He glanced over to Waylon. Should they talk about... something? He was always terrible at small talk, and thus far with the crew all he had seemed to say were words of fatherly advice, and he wasn't certain how he felt about that.
"...So, Waylon... do you have any idea what might be going on in there?"
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Mar 7, 2014 23:54:52 GMT -8
Val flashed a caustic grin, managing to maintain his expression as his hand involuntarily twitched, massive thrums of throbbing pain pulsing up his arm. Looking to the nail impaling it to the table, he nodded. "Yes, considerably," he said.
"That was payback," Bray said to the concerned Elcor, arms crossed. "The good Captain was late to class, so he got a tardy slip."
"Impressive metaphor, for one who received most of his primary schooling in Batarian penal institutions--"
Val cut himself short with an involuntary grunt of pain, smashing his fist repetitively onto the tabletop as the Human goon bopped the head of the nail with the butt of his pistol. Bray glared, and the henchman yielded as Val writhed. ". . . only the finest, of course . . ."
"Despite the show he's put on for the occasion, Karnyn, the Matriarch doesn't concern herself with fuck-ups when it comes to jobs that need doing," Bray nodded. "He's freelanced for us for years, and aside from the occasional stumble--" he looked to Val, bloodied but not beaten, sporting the best shit-eating smirk he could despite the circumstances. "--his track record's solid."
"None taken, Mister Karnyn," Val chuckled, glancing to the Human who had made his predicament just a smidge more unpleasant than it had been previously.
On board the Balrog, the Doctor was in.
Despite the daunting title for the uninitiated, intraocular surgery was not as challenging of a medical operation as one would believe. Unlike the initial transplant, which was risky business to begin with on a perfectly healthy eye, an iridectomy followed your standard operating procedure in terms of a plan of action, and was simply a matter of keeping a steady hand and and fishing out whatever shit happened to be causing problems in the patient's corneal region. The rub, as the bard would tell it, was that it wasn't some old bag-of-bones geezer's glaucoma or melanoma of the iris that was the objective: it was a completely man-made device, and one that wouldn't take kindly to being poked and prodded around by surgical instrumentation before causing some damage.
The instrumentation in question was an early 'Christmas' present from the Captain: a vibro-magnetic forecep with sleek, metallic coating and an microscopic sight. The kind of shit they put on precision sniper rifles was being used to tunnel through a Human's eye hole. Yeah, science.
Guar found himself at ease as he guided the contraption, the faint whirring of the dynamic tweezer-like mechanism making the background noise of the smuggler's vessel fade into the distance. His hands never moved so much as an inch; battle-born and raised in the trenches, one found over the course of a few centuries that when something needed doing and doing well, shaky hands were for the ones busy clutching at their own wounds as their life seeped out of them in a messy pool all around them.
Soon after Wyn yelled, on her side of the door, there was a muffled rummaging behind it, a vigorous rifling through cabinets. After a brief pause, this was followed by a violent crash against the opposite side of the medbay door, and the shattering of glass and other scattered material on its floor.
"Shut the fuck up!" Guar roared resoundingly, stomping a wide Krogan foot. The door opened, the hulking barbarian medicine man bearing holes into the two ladies with wide eyes. "I'm in the middle of surgery. Wanna watch?"
As if he hadn't come off as animalistically angry as he had moments before, Doctor Guar made his way back to Elam's side as he continued his work on the machine, nodding as if to say it was fine for Wyn and Bryci to watch if they kept their distance and didn't touch anything.
"Keep your distance," Guar growled. "And don't touch anything."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Mar 8, 2014 0:34:43 GMT -8
The smell of the medbay was a very familiar and nostalgic smell for Wyn. Whether the medicines and supplies were levo or dextro based, they seemed to have the same smell, she associated with her father and his clinic. It made that feeling of homesickness appear in her stomach.
That feelign went away the second she heard the word "surgery".
Quarians only came out of their suits for about 3 reasons: the making of babies, the birthing of them, and surgery. As such surgery was a very very private thing, something that only people like her father would ever see.
So while disgusted she was also curious.
She stepped into the medbay, and scooted herself up on a counter. Then her heart sank as she saw what was being cut up
"His eye? You put it in his eye?" Out of sympathy pain she put her hand up to the part of her face plate that was eye level.
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mekasoundwave
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Post by mekasoundwave on Mar 8, 2014 0:47:00 GMT -8
Waylon looked over to his older crewmate and fellow earthling and could only really answer with a shrug.
"Haven't the foggiest, Liam," he said. "But I have a hunch it's shady as hell. Par for the course for the Captain, as you know well by now."
He was also well aware they were just Val's muscle. That was basically Waylon's job 24/7 as part of the crew. That and cooking, as the rest of the crew figured out a few days after he came aboard.
Waylon was ALSO well aware that they were doing a pretty shitty job of being hired muscle right now. What with their boss being separated from them by a big metal door and more than a few other hired goons. Something told him that he and Liam might end up going through both soon.
"Hope the Captain's got the common sense to keep outta trouble in there," Waylon said, partly joking. "Really don't feel like going on a rescue mission at the moment, y'know?"
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Post by Frahnkenshteen on Mar 12, 2014 18:03:59 GMT -8
"RELIEF: Good to hear a second opinion on him. I was assured that my transport would be of the utmost quality and speed." Karnyn unwaveringly stared at the writhing hand across from him, now embedded firmly onto the table.
INQUISITIVELY: Nonetheless, it's generally bad form for the teacher to keep the student after class if it conflicts with the students other classes. SUGGESTION: So perhaps we should move beyond the corporal punishment for now, and go over what this job entails. I would prefer to get off this rock sooner as opposed to later, as I'm sure Ms. T'Loak has gone over my situation with you."
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Mar 13, 2014 20:38:23 GMT -8
The expression on Guar's face was a mix of rage and outright disgust.
"No, I put it in his fucking clit," he growled. "Of course I put it in his eye! It's a recording device, it has a feed of information that streams everything it takes in through the pupil. It's supposed to be inconspicuous."
"Actually," Val replied, disregarding the throbbing pain of his hand to garner more information on his latest job. Glancing to Bray, who seemed to allow the line of questioning, he continued. "No, she has not. What I've happened to glean from all this - not for lack of trying, mind you - is that you're wanted by some fairly undesirable individuals in the field of illicit information brokerage, and need the help of a few undesirable individuals in the field of illicit transport to play a big game of galactic keep-away with them. Now, discretion is all well and good, which I respect . . . to an extent. What I would like to know now, rather than digging it up later, is what kind of mess you were trifling with, and what exactly we can expect if they happen upon us. If, of course," Val managed a cocky smile. "They can catch us. The Balrog's one of the best ships this side of the Attican Traverse."
This was not necessarily true, of course, but it's not as if Karnyn or Bray would know.
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Mar 13, 2014 21:26:21 GMT -8
"Don't treat me like I'm stupid," Wyn retorted back, "I was under the impression it was a listening device only, not a video recording one."
She paused and said, "Shouldn't things be a bit more sanitary in here? Things need to be spotless when performing surgery or infection can happen."
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lovely corte
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Post by lovely corte on Mar 14, 2014 2:31:47 GMT -8
"Dude, that is so fucking gross." Bryci murmured as she entered the operating room, making her way over to the sink and washing her hands out of habit. The still frame of Elam looked so peaceful and gentle. Like a Negro baby Angel. "And I've seen a guy shit himself after getting impaled."
"Don't yell at her." The woman scolded Guar, furrowing her brow at him and crossing her arms over her sizable chest. "Don't be such a cunt all the time."
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Post by Frahnkenshteen on Mar 28, 2014 22:46:07 GMT -8
"SYMPATHY: I appreciate the respect for privacy Mr. Caligulus, truly. However, you have to understand me. I'm a broker. Discretion is my part and parcel. A veteran such as you should know the power that a seemingly small piece of information should bring. ASSURANCE: However, so as to leave some semblance of trust hear, I will let slip a few things."
"One. This action has been in the works for a number of years. I'm not going to let that go to waste by giving information away to a smuggler captain," the robotic voice of the Elcor intoned.
"Two. This move was not against the Shadow Broker, you can feel safe in that knowledge. I am many things, Mr. Caligulus. Stupid and suicidal are neither of them."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Apr 2, 2014 22:44:44 GMT -8
"Dude, that is so fucking gross." Bryci murmured as she entered the operating room, making her way over to the sink and washing her hands out of habit. The still frame of Elam looked so peaceful and gentle. Like a Negro baby Angel. "And I've seen a guy shit himself after getting impaled." "Don't yell at her." The woman scolded Guar, furrowing her brow at him and crossing her arms over her sizable chest. "Don't be such a cunt all the time." "Yeah don't be a cunt" Wyn repeated. She giggled a little after saying the word, like a preteen. She nudged Bryci and pointed toward Elam, "Can he technically see whats going on? Like his eye is pried open even if he;s asleep. Thats terrifying. I'd never let anyone touch my eyes."
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lovely corte
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Post by lovely corte on Apr 2, 2014 23:21:48 GMT -8
Looking at the Quarian girl, Bryci smacked her on the thigh once she heard the girl speak. She furrowed her brow at the young Quarian woman next to her before she turned to watch the surgery at hand, wincing every once and awhile when she saw something gruesome happen to Elam's eye, which was pretty much the whole surgery.
"Watch your mouth." She warned. "Words hurt."
"I'm not sure." She continued on afterwards, as if she hadn't done anything or chastised the girl at all. "I saw a lot of what the inside of a person looks like, but I can't tell you how to put them back together again completely, Wyn."
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Apr 3, 2014 21:02:56 GMT -8
Guar, fighting every inordinately powerful urge to take the two female humanoids by the skulls and smash them together until they were jellied flesh and oozing brain matter on his nice, sterile med bay floor, seethed to himself as the noises fell out of their disgusting faces. By the grace of whatever higher authority loomed over them in space, he continued his work diligently.
"Sorry excuses for fucking vertebrates," he growled, not even looking at the two. "He's not conscious. That means his eyes aren't feeding information to his brain."
The veteran comment placed the pain of Val's impaled hand aside for a moment.
The plot thickens . . .
"Shadow Broker, indeed," Val replied. He chuckled a bit at his last remark. "Then I see we're already at an agreement, Mister Karnyn."
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Post by Frahnkenshteen on Apr 9, 2014 21:31:39 GMT -8
"PLEASED: It would certainly appear that way, Mr. Caligulus. I hope our business relationship is as pleasant as it is brief."
The Elcor slowly turned his massive head to the direction of the quite angry Batarian standing next to him. "POLITELY: Now, Bray, if you could please remove the spike from his hand, I would like to discuss the arrangements with out business partner here. AMUSED: I feel like we can let the tardy one here off with a warning this time. "
No matter the amount of warmth that may have been behind the gesture, the Karnyn's digital translator chuckling was quite uncomfortable to listen to. And sounded like a fax machine attempting acapella.
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lovely corte
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Post by lovely corte on Apr 23, 2014 0:26:22 GMT -8
"We can take this outside Guar, if you want to start throwing hurtful words around." Bryci said, casual in her tone, smiling at the hulking predator. He could so much as swing at her head and kill her then and there, on the spot in an instant. "I'll get my Quarian slave girl to clean you up off the floor once I'm done with you."
She turned to look at Wyn.
"Sorry, it's already happened." She continued. "You're my slave-bitch now."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on Apr 23, 2014 8:55:11 GMT -8
Wyn crossed her arms and frowned, "Just because I like to clean everyone's shit, doesn't make me anyone's slave, let alone yours. I do it cause I like to clean."
----------------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile inside the cargo bay, the Balrog had a little stowaway.
A young female Turian was huddled around the heating system in the cargobay, trying to get the chill of Omega off her, and being as quiet as she could while Bryci and Wyn were in there.
Only a few minutes after they left, she felt it.
Her vision being clouded by bright patches, a constant ringing noise filled her eardrums, and she began smelling things that didn't even exist. An aura.
She had no idea how much time she had until it came, but she needed to get to somewhere a bit safer... But where?
She walked slowly to the DeLorian. Her clouded vision made her unable to notice the paint can Wyn had left there, and she tripped over it, spilling paint on herself in the process. She reached out of instinct with her talons, and caught onto the DeLorian's hood, scratching 6 marks in the car with each talon as she regained her balance.
She took a second to catch her breath, and then entered the car, huddling in the backseat. You're gonna be okay Tavia, you're gonna be fine you're gon-
Her thought processes ceased, and she broke out into violent convlsions, her feet banging against the backseat door of the car and her claws tearing up the upholstery of the car as she lost control of her arms.
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on May 1, 2014 21:14:32 GMT -8
The surgeon-performing Krogan chuckled throatily at that, and continued with the operation.
"I'll fuckin' take you, alright . . ."
((Timeskipping with Val and the gang coming back to the ship, because hey, shit for inspiration~!))
With business settled and nails removed from spasming Turian hands, the Captain and his detail of unintentionally ineffectual muscle leave the garage with a large Elcor in tow, admittedly a bit pushy - y'know, because of the bleeding hand and all.
"Welcome to the Balrog, Mister Karnyn," Val said as he turned to face Karnyn. "Our pride and joy. You're currently in the cargo hold, every exit to which leads toward the 'conference room' if you will, which you'll find to be the circular chamber with the--oh, my goodness . . . "
The first thing Val noticed, as he whipped around in the midst of his tour-giving, was the tipped-over can of silvery paint, pooling outward upon the floor and speckling the front wheel and undercarriage of the antique Human vehicle. He jerked forward a bit to inspect further . . . then remembered his aching hand, caked with deep blue Turian blood and loosely wrapped in a deeply-stained rag (courtesy of Liam), and realized that blue would not go with chrome, not at all. Visibly flustered, the Captain shook his head, turning to the two crew members by his sides. "Show him around, if you two would be so kind? I'll be with you all in two shakes."
Val had a bone to pick, and it was with Miss Qwib Qwib and Miss Wicker.
"Doctor Guar, forgive me for the interruption--" the Krogan surgeon, cleaning off his medical utensils, growled as he whipped around, bloody scalpel in his massive hand. Val took a step back, raising his hole-poked hand. The doctor, displeasure evident, guided him over to a nearby sink. Val, displeasure evident, turned his eyes turned to Wyn's . . . well, faceplate.
"Your work on the DeLorean leaves--" Val cringed as Guar inspected his hand, who promptly elbowed him in the chest to shut him the fuck up. "--much to be desired, Miss Qwib Qwib. Color me disappointed."
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Post by Fiery Firefly on May 1, 2014 21:21:15 GMT -8
Wyn cocked her head in confusion, her feet kicking against the cabinets of the counter she was sitting on, her legs too short to touch the ground.
"Whatcha mean Captain?" she pushed off the counter and her feet landed on the ground with a little "oof"
"You told me that it was alright to use the putty, and I just used the paint I had in my room, it seemed like it matched, did I miss something?"
She suddenly noticed the hole in his hand, "Captain are you alright? What happened? Did you get shot in the hand or something, why the fuck do you care about the fucking car, when there's a fucking hole in your hand?" Her voice was completely panicked and she grabbed at his hand in concern, possibly hurting him more.
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lovely corte
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Post by lovely corte on May 1, 2014 21:39:37 GMT -8
"You know, hiding a thinly veiled, but somewhat consensual, rape threat in intergalactic space is not the way to a girl's heart, Doctor Feelgood." Bryci instructed, taking a seat next to her Quarian companion. She too found her feet barely able to touch the ground. "Maybe try some roses or a nice pair of earrings."
Perking up somewhat, Bryci got to her feet once The Captain entered the infirmary.
"Sir, I'd like to take full blame for that." She continued. "I mixed the paint and did the putty. All fault is with me, sir."
Cocking an eyebrow, she looked towards his talon.
"Want to tell us what all this is about?" She inquired, walking towards the creature. "And why you have two gigantic fucking holes in your hand?"
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