November 8th, 2880
Lunar City "Bangelor"
City Sector
8:18 PM
Faux-rain of questionable quality pitter-pattered down onto the streets of Bangelor. Once pitched as an up-and-coming opportunity, the Lunar fortress-cities that hadn't been abandoned by the League had lapsed into states of various disrepair and incompleteness, owned by a permanently bickering group of lesser corporations and smaller governments that were, to the delight of the populace, often so focused on fighting one another that they left them to their own devices. As such, they had acquired a reputation for cheerful ruggedness in the face of constant danger - as well as the place to be for the ultimate in blood sports: Battling.
It was here, on these very streets, that crowds would congregate to cheer on their favored champions in bars, such as the Lovely Life, whose glowing neon sign flickered as a space-faring moth flew into its interior, and was hurriedly ejected in a miniature ball of flame.
It was not the only thing this evening to experience such disappointment.
"WaitwaitwaitwaitwaitWAIT-"
A blur of movement and a voice that, in better times, would have sounded somewhat heroic, gave a noise that could be roughly transliterated as "Nyaarrght" as it was hurled bodily out of the bar's front door, and tumbled unceremoniously into the street. He didn't look like a local, showing no signs of malnutrition nor scarring, his perfect features and long blonde hair looking like something off a magazine cover as he stared solemnly up into the artificial sky, and rubbed the back of his head.
He thought for a moment about the Black Knight. About the uncomfortable meeting that had followed, and how at least his tutor had been kind enough to drop their Doorey off at the Colony's entrance. He couldn't go back to his old merc outfit - no, the two of them had to get themselves situated, find those brave enough to risk life and limb, and follow him into the teeth of danger.
The looks of incredulity on their faces as he'd spoken would never be erased from his mind. As he pondered this, finding the cold pavement underneath unusually comfortable as he wallowed in misery, an umbrella opened softly overhead. The face of his Fatima, Nia, loomed into view - it was nigh impossible to tell from the suit she wore, but who else would have one of those out this far?
"Are you alright Master?" Said the Fatima, offering a pale, slender hand.
"Golden." He said, unconvincingly.
"Would you like me to help you up?"
With a sigh, Raines allowed himself to be hauled upward, giving her a grateful smile.
She'd found a ship for them, at least. A nice one, sounded like it had been used for the Mars emigration, and some wealthy magnate's daughter was trying to get rid of it. One man's trash was, he was learning, indeed someone else's treasure. Now he only hoped she'd had better luck trying to find a crew?
"Any luck?" He asked, taking the umbrella as they walked down the street together.
"I have some possible candidates." She said, taking out a notebook and twirling a pen between her fingers girlishly. Proudly, she began to read off some of the names listed:
"A mercenary outfit called Brad's Blood-drinkers; A welding apprentice who goes by, Mr. Marquee; Bottom-rank Battlers Rod Stingray and Xiao Wenxi; a drug dealer who preferred not to be named; Jimmy Glimmer, local pimp; and a sweet little old lady with a grenade launcher called Mrs. Pepper."
Raines waited for her to laugh, for the punchline, but she simply beamed at him expectantly. Eventually, he sighed, and put his arm around her shoulders. He'd suffered enough upsets for the day, after all.
"Good work, Nia."
He didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.
Lunar City "Bangelor"
City Sector
8:18 PM
Faux-rain of questionable quality pitter-pattered down onto the streets of Bangelor. Once pitched as an up-and-coming opportunity, the Lunar fortress-cities that hadn't been abandoned by the League had lapsed into states of various disrepair and incompleteness, owned by a permanently bickering group of lesser corporations and smaller governments that were, to the delight of the populace, often so focused on fighting one another that they left them to their own devices. As such, they had acquired a reputation for cheerful ruggedness in the face of constant danger - as well as the place to be for the ultimate in blood sports: Battling.
It was here, on these very streets, that crowds would congregate to cheer on their favored champions in bars, such as the Lovely Life, whose glowing neon sign flickered as a space-faring moth flew into its interior, and was hurriedly ejected in a miniature ball of flame.
It was not the only thing this evening to experience such disappointment.
"WaitwaitwaitwaitwaitWAIT-"
A blur of movement and a voice that, in better times, would have sounded somewhat heroic, gave a noise that could be roughly transliterated as "Nyaarrght" as it was hurled bodily out of the bar's front door, and tumbled unceremoniously into the street. He didn't look like a local, showing no signs of malnutrition nor scarring, his perfect features and long blonde hair looking like something off a magazine cover as he stared solemnly up into the artificial sky, and rubbed the back of his head.
He thought for a moment about the Black Knight. About the uncomfortable meeting that had followed, and how at least his tutor had been kind enough to drop their Doorey off at the Colony's entrance. He couldn't go back to his old merc outfit - no, the two of them had to get themselves situated, find those brave enough to risk life and limb, and follow him into the teeth of danger.
The looks of incredulity on their faces as he'd spoken would never be erased from his mind. As he pondered this, finding the cold pavement underneath unusually comfortable as he wallowed in misery, an umbrella opened softly overhead. The face of his Fatima, Nia, loomed into view - it was nigh impossible to tell from the suit she wore, but who else would have one of those out this far?
"Are you alright Master?" Said the Fatima, offering a pale, slender hand.
"Golden." He said, unconvincingly.
"Would you like me to help you up?"
With a sigh, Raines allowed himself to be hauled upward, giving her a grateful smile.
She'd found a ship for them, at least. A nice one, sounded like it had been used for the Mars emigration, and some wealthy magnate's daughter was trying to get rid of it. One man's trash was, he was learning, indeed someone else's treasure. Now he only hoped she'd had better luck trying to find a crew?
"Any luck?" He asked, taking the umbrella as they walked down the street together.
"I have some possible candidates." She said, taking out a notebook and twirling a pen between her fingers girlishly. Proudly, she began to read off some of the names listed:
"A mercenary outfit called Brad's Blood-drinkers; A welding apprentice who goes by, Mr. Marquee; Bottom-rank Battlers Rod Stingray and Xiao Wenxi; a drug dealer who preferred not to be named; Jimmy Glimmer, local pimp; and a sweet little old lady with a grenade launcher called Mrs. Pepper."
Raines waited for her to laugh, for the punchline, but she simply beamed at him expectantly. Eventually, he sighed, and put his arm around her shoulders. He'd suffered enough upsets for the day, after all.
"Good work, Nia."
He didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.
