Viktor J. Connahue (The first segment is his backstory, which will unfold as I commit it to paper. After the break, his actual adventures on the server begin.) Day 5 A.E. Well, that escalated quickly. One day, you know… Flowers are blooming, birds are chirping, and civil war guns are boomin’… Then all of a sudden, a fucked up monster out of a shitty 50’s movie decides to piss in the Kool-Aid. Ain’t that a bitch? I was doing service on the Mars frontier when it happened, and thank our flippant God that I was. Just think, women, children, baby puppies all devoured by a giant purple Hell-beast… and yet, here’s Vecks J., floating away through space without a care in the world. Fancy that. As soon as the thing started ripping up ships, I figured it would end up coming out of my pay anyhow. I saw enough to figure that our nukes and orbital lasers might as well have been butter knives. So, like anyone still alive, I decided to fly off to pester the beast another day. That isn’t to say that me and Farric, my partner in crime, didn’t argue a fair bit about it beforehand. In the end, the old bird was won over by my rousing speech of “fuck all this, let’s take the money and go somewhere nice.” The screech of that beast probably did it more than my blathering, though. Since then, we’ve been pinging for contact with nearby settlements nonstop. Considering the flood of refugees, it’s not surprising that we haven’t had much luck. Me ‘n Farric play cards, videogames, and we drink to pass the time. The whole circumstance has got him into a religious spasm, hailing his Bird-Jesus every once in awhile. I know what they say about atheists and foxholes, but it’s a ridiculous sight to behold. Knowing him, he’ll probably forget all about it again once the fear’s worn off. He’s always been like a self-righteous little brother to me, but his head is screwed on right. It’s always good to travel with someone you trust in a messy biz like ours. I just gotta hope that wherever this ship is heading, it catches a place that isn’t too busy handling refugees to drop a job or two our way. Day 18 A.E. We found a colony today, out in some random ass-crack of space. It’s a space station called New Sedna, run by some seedy Hiyotl operation. As soon as we docked, Farric started doing that thing where he starts rubbing the burns on his neck. If the buzzard has any sense, it’s in that scarred, featherless patch. The decontamination chamber hissed as it attempted to wash off whatever they feared we might track into this already-teeming cesspit. Feeling as fresh as a dog basted with laundry detergent, I strode into the settlement alongside Farric. He was sneezing for a good 20 minutes. Kinda funny to see an Avian sneeze. Day 19 A.E. So, yesterday was a laugh and a half. After we finished tripping over panhandling refugees, refuse and fuck-knows-what, we finally made it to a bar. The hum of their holo-screen bounty board was like music to our ears. In a place like this, there was no shortage of wannabe-badasses hungry for bullets. All we had to do was plan the deliveries. First, there was a tricked-out Glitch, in some serious need of some ballistic tech support. Apparently he’d kill people, sell their stuff, and line his chassis with gold. Next, we found a posting for a seek-and-capture; some Hiyotl merchant’s daughter had skipped off to a nearby moon with her Floran honey. Hoo-boy. That’s gonna get awkward. Taking only three at a time, the last one we decided to take on was some old USCM deserter; he’d skipped off without leave, and began plundering rich bastards of their scratch. What a ride, eh? It looks like daddy's back in business. Oh, and Farric too. He can come. Day 30 A.E. After more than a week of chasing leads and getting to know this wreck of a place, we finally received a good trail for one of the marks. We found the Floran. Oh man, he was a real bed of roses. You know, roses with pointy teeth. We found them in an old hollowed-out moonbase; they must have intended to use the lack of oxygen to keep pursuers at bay. That aside, we found our way into the place, thanking the flippant God that the place was properly pressurized. It kinda inhibited our use of explosives though; quite a drag. I kept the two of them in a firefight; we were all crouching behind crates shootout-style, while Ferric found his way to the life support systems. He radioed me, and I quickly slipped out, while he began slowly draining the air from the room. We told them to give up their weapons, though it took some convincing over the intercom to get them to think we were crazy enough to kill the Hiyotl. On the way back, they started doing some sappy exchange, like “I will be back for you, my laaaaahv!” and “I will always be looking for you!” It gave me a bit of nausea, but turns out, Farric’s a bit of a softie. Long story short, the heard on his sleeve ended up bleeding just a little, so we expanded our enterprise. Now we have Fern Solo (SpikeLeaf), Princess Filet-a (Akari), and our original pair. Honestly, I’d much sooner toss them out the airlock and be done with it. But hey, it’s more labor and cannon fodder, and Farric’s the type to never shut up about this kinda thing. No pixels for this job, but this means we’ll have two more people to throw at the Glitch and the USCM deserter. Day 42 A.E. With that job up in flames, we decided it would be time to hit up the next two. At first, we split up and spread out… All four of us gathered information. When Spike and Asuka weren’t gallivanting around on playdates, they were looking for a lead on the glitch. We let them have their fun for awhile. Farric and I caught some rumors of the USCM deserter. We paid a visit to the tiny little embassy the redshirts had at New Sedna, and talked to some soldiers. They were popping by for visas, and had loose enough tongues to tell us about this guy. Gruff, ruthless, with a group of bandits around him at all time… Though all in all, he was a bit of a coward. For a good several months, he’d been jacking shipments that were coming in to New Sedna. Any guards that tried to stop him were left filled with bullet holes and covered in plasma burns. So, dead or alive. The “Or” is only there so they can have the possibility of taking him in front of a court and making it a big publicity stunt. He really does fit the old profile for the old bastard... I’m not sure if I want it to be him. Would I shoot Elias Connahue, or turn him in? I know I wouldn’t let him go. Would I yell at ‘im, or say nothing? I couldn’t tell ya. Regardless, a chance is a chance, and a job is a job. Day 45 A.E. How do you catch elusive pirates with no known base of operations? Have some nice booty. Fortunately, Asuka had some, and was willing to hook us up. Her little rebellion from her family inspired her participation in this little exchange. She gave us the location for one of her family’s warehouses (they sell moisture rigs for farms/settlements). Farric, Spike and I all dressed up like punch-clock factory workers, and walked right in during one of their thinner shifts. After that, we just showed some fake papers and flew off with a cargo ship. After that, I got to be the one who hid in the crate with the bomb-trigger. We let the pirates come, and snag the crate of “goods” (me + Spike + bomb). After they depart, but before they open the crate, Farric calls in to their ship. He tells them that he’s placed a bomb in the crate, and that it’ll blow a hole in their freighter if they don’t disarm their ship-to-ship weapons. In the meantime, I’m stuck in a box. After Farric makes the reveal, Spike and I bust out with a detonator in hand, and my thumb pressed firmly upon the button. The glint of crazy in Spike’s eyes certainly helped too. With some grumbling, they dropped their weapons. The Floran had a good time slapping them about once we’d tied them up. Turns out that the old bastard /I/ was lookin’ for wasn’t with them… Well pops, guess you get to keep on bein’ a shadow, fuckin’ around in space. Good for you. [404, NOT FOUND FILE CORRUPTION; ENTRIES UP UNTIL DAY 530 A.E. UNAVAILABLE. ATTEMPTING TO RECONSTRUCT…]
Day ??578 A.E. “Once you start thinking about it in a mercenary frame of mind, then you're finished. You're a joke, because there are too many mercenaries out there already.” -Tommy Shaw, guitarist of the Styx I must be hilarious then, eh? Although I gotta say, as much as I love Shaw’s riffs, he’s kinda full of shit. Since we have pretty short shelf-lives, I’d say our turnover rate keeps the demand comin’. The trick is just not being one of the ones that turns over. I’ve been at this awhile; bouncing from system to system, until the cash there runs out. New wars, new faces; they all kinda blur together after some time. You drink with the other mercs, you make friends, but eventually you’re resigned to the fact that you might see it get rearranged… Or, you might be the one doing it, if the pixels flow the wrong way. That being said, I kinda miss being in a PMC… Having a dedicated group kinda gives you some bullshit-family, and for an orphan from the South, what else are ya gonna get? As much as I love change, it’s nice to have something be familiar. The ship was quiet again today, with the hum of the engines reassuring me that my survival continues. It’s been a strange ride ever since Earth became some kind of fucked up Japanese porn. Then again, I always did want to get out of working for the pissant factions ripping my home apart… Guess I’ll get to sign up with some space cowboys instead. Who knows, maybe one of them will be worth more than my income. I think I’m too jaded to really hold out hope for that, though. Just like the factions on Earth, everyone has a cause… until they’re ripped up by some horrorshow abomination. The memory of all that chaos does get me a bit nostalgic… So many different groups had me firing guns for their coin. First it was the Japanese, trying to take control of the USCM, shake everything up a bit… That was fun. I wasn’t much into cartoons before then; kid stuff. Ever since I saw a demon rip a dude’s head off in one of those though, I was sold. Anime is freakin’ cool. I still have some of the posters they were pushing. Since then, with that gone, I saw some Hiyotl do something similar. I wonder if it was the Hiyotl copying Eastern humans, or if it was some kinda secret alien influence from far back…? I guess the world will never know now. Anyway, that’s enough of my reminiscing. My ship’s been floating around, looking for an inhabited system for a while. It’s just been nothing but radio silence for months, until I blundered into this new cluster. Antares, I think it’s called. I even managed to get a link-up to StarNet; it’s a freakin’ breath of fresh air. It’s been ages before I could argue with Floran trolls on the forums. People bitch about that kinda thing, but after playing zombie videogames for a year ‘n a half, I’ll take any kinda contact to break the monotony. It must be time. I’ll send out some radio calls, and see if I can get ahold of some work. Day ??585 A.E. Got a call from some random schmuck, calling himself “Dr. E”… He literally heard me heckling people on the radio, and decided I sounded like I could handle myself with his merchandise. Who does that? So, feeling particularly game and low on money, I put on a mask and did some light recruiting for ‘em. I got some Darkwell guy on board his shady operation, after almost pitching the recruitment at a robotic Elvis impersonator. You can see how seriously I take this. Anyway, it led me to two new locations: · A nice dive run by someone named “Aiko”. · A classy joint in the Arrakis system, the “Midnight Cabaret.” It has a really nice, jazzy sort of feel. Not always my thing, but I could kick back to some brass and a smoky room for a good while. After that, he dropped 10 VOXELS on me for doing nothing. I’m convinced he’s some crazy rich kid at this point, trying to cut his teeth on some real business. Day ??587 A.E. While it was nice to get paid in advance, I’m convinced that Mr. E’s job is a no-go. Even if it was, I’m sure he’d slip up and get dragged off by a bunch of space cowboys in a heartbeat. So, I’ll just take my voxels and keep searching. I slummed around the Cabaret today… Had a good time. Mocked my “Employer” to a very confused lady standin’ behind the bar. Saw her get a call, and figured it was from him by the funny look on her face. Afterwards, while she was trying to pick out one liquor from the others, I dug for a bit; she seems like the type to do a lot of jobs for a lotta people, so it took some spilling to get even a modicum of trust. Well, enough for her to come clean on Mr. E anyway. After that, we chatted for awhile. She’s got a bit of that plucky, sardonic attitude that I tend to get along with, so it was fun. Think I heard her on the radio earlier. She said her name was Mari, though something rang a bit hollow when she said it. After getting intoxicated enough, I ended up back on my ship. Another day, still no real work… Well, at least I have that guy’s generosity to pay my bar tab till it shows up. Hells yeah.
Day ??590 A.E. …. What is this, I don’t even… More people were at the Cabaret today. We all had some good banter, and some laughs. That Darkwell guy stumbles in drunk, and addresses an Apex dressed like a… Well, he looked like one of those Victorian capitalists that would smoke pipes, wear top-hats, and spontaneously combust. … Long story short, my employer was a young, upstart monkey in a top hat. Anyway, he addressed the Apex as Mr. E. Everyone at the bar burst into a parody of that classic movie, “V for Vendetta”, with a series of alliterations. “Enigmatically, entrepreneurs enter into egress egregiously.” “Enervating.” “Energizing!” Then after departing, Darkwell stumbles down the stairs in a drunken state. “Eureka!” Mortified and practically in tears, “Mr. E” left in shame. I had more than a little sadistic glee throughout all of this. After that… We decided it was time for a road trip. We all became really drunk, and at some point crafted a hash-cake with ToxicTops. I can’t begin to even describe the fuckery… Me and this blonde guy ended up in ass-less chaps, while I wore a cowboy hat and Mari’s jacket. We inducted Mari into some kindof impromptu scarf cult, while making her wear a series of silly hats. You know what… I’ll just paste in some pictures from my wrist communica- Nevermind. I don’t want pictures of my ass getting on the StarNet, if someone reads this… I should probably delete those pictures. Anyway. We decided to go frolicking with a hash-cake in a grassy field, on some random planet. It just turns out, that grassy field was smack-dab in the middle of a fuckforsaken frozen waste. During a sandstorm. While we were wearing no pants… and drunk. Also, we had a little contact-high. It ended up being like some mid-20th-century-esque wilderness survival novel. The storm cut off our ability to beam into our ships, so we had to wait it out. We ducked into a cave, where Mari pranced into a reservoir of icy water. As cutely-derpy as it was, we had to lift her out before she got hypothermia. At least we were all pants-less now. Unfortunately, it was too fucking cold to tease Mari about the llamas. Mostly. So, we had to burn all of the random costumes from our shenanigans. They were pretty good kindling, with some help from my old Guns N’ Roses lighter… Good thing I had the sense to refill it after last time. We even burned the scarves that were the object of our cultish worship, only minutes ago. Didn’t burn mine, of course; I’d sooner shave my head for tinder. We had to burn the wooden stock of my gun, too; I’ll need that fixed now. Mari and Blondie seemed to be knocking on death’s door a few times… Mari’s hypothermia from getting drenched was pretty rough. I had to give her jacket back, along with the occasional shake to keep her from drifting to sleep. Blondie, on the other hand, went out in the cold to dig us a chimney through the snow. Didn’t seem like a good idea, but he was drunk and determined. The guy was practically dead when he came back. Fortunately, dragging him closer to the fire was enough to keep him with us. He really seemed to be a mumbling corpse after awhile. Once it was all over, I had to carry Blondie as if he were a pretty little princess that I saved from a dragon. Though, the metaphor kinda falls flat, because I had to chop off two of his frostbitten fingers afterwards. That’s what he gets for digging through sandy, polar snow with his bare hands. Can’t say I didn’t feel a *bit* sorry for him though, since he screamed like a dying, chain-smoking alley cat with a sailor’s vocabulary. After that, we recovered, and Blondie mourned his lost appendages. Well, at least I found out his name is Elijah. Too close to Elias though, so I’ll just keep on calling Blondie what I have been. Don’t need that. Anyway, with all of us nursing the wounds from the night, we returned to our respective ships. All in all, it was fun. Five stars. I wonder if Travelocity is still a thing… Day ??591 A.E. The next day, I popped back into LM. I finally found out that Mari’s real name. It was actually Aissa Torres, or rather, Aissa Mason. “Mari” had a somewhat hollow cadence to it, even if it was cute; I guess this is why. Judging by how she keeps to Torres, I’ll assume she wants to reject her pops enough to keep her real-real name on the DL. I guess people with father issues flock together, like some kinda strange, telepathic support group. Anyway, turns out it was her little sister. Hm. Don’t wanna go into her details too much here. Suffice to say, we both did a good exchange of our baggage. As much as talking about the past can be a bitch, it’s a bit of a relief to swap stories with someone. Told her about the foster system a bit, and how I hopped the Pacific to do some mercenary work… Wish my past wasn’t so hollow, so I’d have some decent stuff to tell. Guess it’s why I’m never very good at brooding. Sides, all the interesting shit happened after I launched my ass into space. After clearing alla that, (actually getting to know the person who was a partner in crime the previous evening,) we ended up bantering back and forth for hours; jabs, teases, light flirtation, jokes. Afterwards, I ended up on some kindof alcoholic gameshow, identifying the various swills at the Cabaret. The lovely judge drank whatever I identified, so it was biased in my favor... or not. Her drunken demands became so wild that I had to bluff through the last two. Seriously, how could I possibly tell how old tequila is by smell? In the end, my prize was a free “Put Up with My Shenanigans” napkin, signed and everything. No idea what to do with that. As game as she may be for adventures, I don’t think she quite knows what she’s getting into, signin’ stuff for a shady guy like me. Then again, I’ll probably think of some amusing way to use it. Never know.
Day ??592 A.E. Pretending to be a bartender is actually kinda fun. I’m surprised I’ve never done it ‘till now. When ya think about it, I do kinda look like one… My knowledge (from experience) of alcohol certainly helps. Spoilers, Journal: whenever you don’t see me for a week or two, that’s probably what I’m up to. So, naturally, I was back at MC again. Well, Skarti (the cantankerous Avian in a dress) started talking about some uncomfortable shit around the bar. You know, Earth. I felt like I had to strap on my metaphorical jetpack and fly the skippity-fuck out of there, so boom. I became a bartender again: paid in pilfered alcohol, Aissa’s snarkery, and the vague thrill of doing something so awesomely, yet dysfunctionally normal. We set about trying to identify the unknown swill, lovingly procured by Gytha, the mysterious owner of the bar. We gave every newly discovered drink an impromptu napkin label, since the owner seems to peel off the regular labels for some reason. Some of the wilder drinks, we just had to ad-lib. A couple of highlights were “Irish Mosh Pit” and “Nancy.” Then you get to the really weird ones. There was a shrunken head in one; some real witch doctor shit. I also met Louis the Six-Eyed Scotch Snake, and Ralph the Pineapple Newt. Aissa was horrified when I took sips from their houses, but I reassured her that they could capitalize off of the insurance money. All things considered, there are a lot of the bottles in the galaxy; rates must be down. All throughout this activity, we let loose with a jocular fencing match the likes of which Arrakis’d likely never seen. At some point, she noted that I can’t really collect on my Shenanigans Napkin, since I didn’t have her radio frequency. The statement seemed to be somewhere between a taunt and a backhanded suggestion… So, naturally, everyone’s favorite sellsword had to start acting like an idiot. Thinking it was my way of asking, I ended up putting an empty napkin on the counter with a pen to keep it company. With a kindof backhanded manner of my own, I said she could put her frequency on it if she wanted. Naturally, she didn’t bite. It was kindof a dickish way to ask. (No shit, right?) So, I decided to meet her halfway, by writing down my own and sticking it on the counter. Still, no go. This puzzled the shit out of me. It was after we bantered back and forth for a while (albeit much less enjoyably than before) that she said it… I was testing her. This mercenary jackass was treating it like some kinda bullshit exchange. A trust game; it was like it was an artificial way to see if she was willing to go out on a limb for me. Hell, I’d never actually, really asked for her frequency, like a normal fucking human being. Why the Hell did I do that? It’s been awhile since the New Sedna Clusterfuck, but… am I riddled with so many trust issues that I’d put Aissa through a fricking hostage exchange just to get her number? Fuck, I guess it’s the ghost of Farric weighing on me again… Really, I have half a mind to apologize for putting her through my bullshit; but at least she laughed a few times, so it couldn’t have been all bad. She did pass me the frequency in the end, after all. Well, after I wised up and realized what I was doing, anyway. At which point, I dropped the games and just, you know, asked. Truth is, I already had her number; I was wearing her jacket during our drunken shenanigans (Big guy in a little coat, etc etc.), and caught a glimpse of one of the manila cards she keeps her frequencies on. Yet, in the name of not being a total ass, I went through this fencing match... Hopefully, I didn’t just end up there anyway. That being said… If Aissa gave me the wrong digits, I’m totally prank-calling her. Clearly, I’m a paragon of maturity and grace. So majestic.
Day ??594 A.E. It’s rare for me to do entries so consecutively, especially when I’m slacking off between jobs; but Hells, this has been some eventful slacking. As the last few entries began, I got bored and wandered back into the Midnight Cabaret. This time, given the playful chiding Aissa gave me about pretendin’ to be a bartender, I tried to play it normal. You know, be a patron. I chatted up some guy named Wintermute (decent enough guy, kinda glowy), sat at the bar, thought about life. That kinda stuff. I never even managed to order a drink before the crazy happened. The two florans, Sen and Landpunch, were back. Fun guys, if a bit erratic and violent. They seemed to be trying to order meat, while everyone’s favorite lady of mystery tried to appease ‘em. She even fed them that shrunken head Gytha keeps around. This isn’t the main buggery that went on though; it comes in multiple layers. Just follow me on this. With the Florans still there, Aissa waves me over, so I saunter back behind the counter again. She whispers in my ear; apparently, David/Darkwell told her to stay inside, because a clusterfuck of some variety was about to ensue. I s’pose it’s only natural to confide in the guy with an assault rifle on his back, when it comes to stuff like this. Nothing happened on that dimension for awhile, and David didn’t answer any questions. So, we turned back to the Florans. Given our lack of meat for them (except on our bones), their impatience made everyone involved rather apprehensive. So, Aissa told ‘em that she’d hook them up if they brought her some non-sentient critter meat to prepare for them. Let me just note, we don’t have a kitchen; but you don’t wanna say no to these guys, unless you’re ready to light ‘em up. They left, and we were relieved. Then they came back, and plonked an unconscious, boar-like alien beast onto the table. It seemed they wanted some Bloody Puss (cocktail of meat + pussplum) the old fashioned way. I picked the damn thing up, and it *twitched*. So, on reflex, I dropped it back on the counter and drew my sabre. Within a parsec, the thing was a headless mess all over the countertop. Old habits. So, Aissa and I became the stars of Iron Chef Floran. I carved up the bugger, while Aissa scrambled around for pussplums. I’d be squicked by this if it was a good five years ago, but after a certain point, ya just run out of damns to give. While the beast was being prepared, Land was even rubbin’ his claws all over everything to get at more of the blood, just for fun. What a night. They didn’t like just having the chopped version, so we even stuck it in a blender for ‘em. Thus, their drink was complete. Though lo and behold, before we could get a review, A RANDOM FLORAN/HYLOTL starts a BARFIGHT… and throws one of the drinks. Damn him. They took the other glass once it was over, though. Then the real shit happened. Nnh, fuck, I’ll write about it tomorrow. Day ??595 A.E. A bunch of masked idiots came in with guns, so naturally, everyone is already packing. Aissa and I hunker down behind the bar, with a fancy plasma pistol and an assault rifle, respectively. They fucked around for awhile, trying to kidnap friggin’ Skarti of all people. It took them a long fucking while. By the end, a pink bird named Moony is riddled full of bullets, before they flop down our spiral staircase like a big, wet sack of potatos. Eventually, the idiots left with Skarti in tow, expecting someone to pay for him. (Apparently someone paid 7 million, but I think it was counterfeit or something.) We spent hours trying to stop the pink bird’s bleeding, while waiting for a doctor. In the meantime, Landpunch busts back in through the window for more pussplum. It must’ve been good. So, we hooked him up, and he left. All the while, Aissa and I had to trade off putting pressure upon Moony’s wounds to keep them from bleeding out. I had to answer the door like five times. Damn Space!Jehova’s Witnesses. A doctor arrived. It was an Avian. They spoke in a classic Crazy!German accent, even referring to Moony (who was unconscious) as “A beeg viney baybe. You will be vine in ze morning.” I the doc even dropped Moony one or twice. I got so drunk after all this, I can hardly remember anything. Some Skyrax guy got shoved into the fridge by Sen, then Aissa and Wintermute ended up talking about Numi. The last episode sounded pretty intense, so I agreed to watch it with her sometime. After a night like that, I’m pretty much down for anything. Day ??596 Ever watched an episode of Numi in the glow of a burning building? Apparently, Aissa and I have. We cooked chicken nuggets, toast, and marshmallows on the flames of the Midnight Cabaret. Her reactions to the gory (wtf?) parts of the Hylotl cartoon were pretty cute. She’d cover her eyes and curl up a bit; the fact that she’s usually so collected really just made it even more amusing. The next time the nastiness came up, I decided to hold up a box of Cheez-itz to block her view. I made a bet with myself that she’d try to peek past it. I won my bet (although kinda lost simultaneously, you know; betting with myself). Too bad she might get nightmares now, though; unintended side-effect. It was part me trying to be nice to cuteness (pfft, I don’t still do that. No way.), and also part having fun. That episode was pretty intense.
Day ??599 A.E. So, I tried to move a piano today. That radio star guy, Yung I think it was, got one for the Cabaret. We had to replace the piano we lost in the fire-o-bullshit previously. So, Yung, an avian named Wren, and I all decided to move it in. The first idea was to push it up the steps… It wasn’t a good one, since it was a spiral-fucking-staircase. Aissa gave me no small degree of teasing over that. So, we went with her idea of a rope-and-pulley system to haul it up to the balcony outside. Wren was setting up the rigging up above, while Yung was standing around rockin’ his pompadour… I was standing on top of the piano, tying it up and whatnot… Then bullshit happened. Some Glitch appears out of nowhere, and tries to grab Aissa. She digs in her heels, proving that she’s fortunately not easy to abscond with. I immediately point the barrel of my rifle at the bastard’s face (while standing atop the piano), and shout very colorful language at him about why he should not fuck with this piano-moving process. He panics, drops her, then leaves; while making her take a spill, and bash her head against the side of the grand instrument. Then he COMES THE FUCK BACK ten minutes later. This time, instead of trying to be all macho, he just grabs her arm and beams up immediately. Hells. Apparently Skyrax had something to do with this bullshit (his father/grandfather or something), so he offers to help. He uses their beam-codes to get Dre and I into the fucker’s ship, while Aissa sits in a metal crate and snarks on the radio (beautiful gravitas, that.) Dre and I then proceed to chase Skyrax and the other guy around the ship, while they play wrestle like idiots. Skyrax in the end tries to pull one of those, “This is a family matter, let me finish this…” lines. We tell him to go fuck himself, and proceed to light the kidnapper-fucker up with a hail of bullets and explosives. Apparently we went overboard, because the whole damn ship blew up shortly after. So, we went back to check on Aissa. She seemed fine, albeit with a sore head. Then the three of us resolved to move that damn piano. When we got back… Yung and Wren had already moved the piano. Oh well. At least we got to vent some anti-slaver rage on the idiot who kidnapped Aissa, and she turned out okay (minus the welt on her head). Afterwards, the three of us got drunk. Happily ever after. The-fuggin’-end. I’m just messing with you, it wasn’t… I’ll write about it tomorrow. Day ??600 A.E. After our misadventures, Dre passes out in a comfortable, hallucinogenic haze after he gets enough Nancy in his system. So, Aissa and I decide to go on a wild journey of hope and wonder (space hiking). It rained like hell, drenching us both. That’s her luck with random planet visits, she said. We still managed to have some fun though. We came across a USCM outpost, likely one of those asshole splinter groups. Instead of getting shot at, we decide to hop up over their buildings; first I gave her a leg up, then with her perched on the roof, I jumped up. I almost slipped off; you know, slick metal and all of that. She grabs my arm for a handhold, and helps us get over. The whole scene reminded me of when I’d screw around in cities as a kid, jumping over roofs and exploring places I shouldn’t. The rain reminded me of a night in Dubai, doing somethin’ similar… That was a long time ago. After seeing some Agarans, we decided our quota for bullshit that day had already been filled, so we beamed up. Apparently, we would be going over that quota anyway. I won’t write about it here… Suffice to say, I got to see Aissa work, after some reluctance on her part. There was some wacked-out doctor, and some shady dealings. It seemed I jumped down some kinda rabbit-hole with everyone’s favorite brunette; how fun. Afterwards, she needed to vent, so I let her hang out in my ship again. After getting a glance at some video from her jacked-up boss (friend, colleague or whatever he was), she spilled the story. The one about whatever was going on here, that is. I guess the whole thing was just too much for ‘er, and she needed someone to unload on. Despite my shadiness, I guess I was the most convenient person. Otherwise, I kinda doubt she would’ve trusted me with all that info; she seems to be worried that I’m gonna end up with a contract to kill her at some point. Gee, thanks. But hey, riddle me this, you slab of tech. Is it fucked up that I find the idea of getting into a fight with her oddly appealing? Guns would be a deal-breaker, naturally; but I feel like facing her would be a thrill. At least, assuming neither of us bites the dust afterwards. Oh well. After that, we playfully flirted and confrontationally bantered back and forth for hours, ‘till Liberty Mills had spun halfway on its axis. Never saw that one coming. I’m still trying to figure out if it’s weirder than all the stuff earlier that day. Maybe it was, maybe not. All I know is that I enjoyed it. Yet… Ya ever talk to someone a ton, and still feel like they still /just/ don’t get ya? It’s like she’s too afraid of who I might be, to get who I am. I call myself a merc, but it was never about the money. The money was just an excuse.Then again, my ship is empty now, so how could anybody tell? It’s not like I go on to anyone about how my ship is basically a graveyard. Farric and I used to have bunks, like a pair of college roommates actually living some kinda normal life… He’d kick my ass at flight-sim videogames, then I’d kick his tailfeathers at FPS’s. He’d fall asleep in the pilot chair all the time too… Heh, an Avian snoring is a funny-ass thing. Then Akari had a cot in the med-bay, and Spike had a little bungalow in the cargo hold. I mean, they didn’t always stick to their spots (Naturally. Crazy kids.), but it felt like the whole ship had life… Then, Aissa says it like it’s only true to her: “I look out for my people.” Well, fuck, so do I; though maybe not well enough, since they’re all just jade-colored memories now. Heck, maybe I looked out for them too much, and that’s how I missed what was about to happen. I think it’s time to restore the rest of the New Sedna files. Maybe then, after looking through them, I’ll be able to stop bullshitting so much. When that kidnapper popped up, I wasn’t pissed because they interrupted “The Great Piano Move.” You don’t survive as a merc by just carin’ about yourself. What ticked me off was the idea of what those fuckers would do, if I didn’t do something to them. I’m still working on this whole ‘not giving a damn’ thing. Ongoing process. Day ??604 A.E. So, the important note of Aissa’s job was that she was lookin’ to get ahold of a guy held hostage, by buyin’ his ass back with a big sack of voxels. Radio chatter started, and it sounded like her guy was up for sale. Then, what do ya know; she calls me almost immediately. Well fuck me sideways, I’m touched. The deal goes sour and gets postponed. It seems she wants to bring me along when it pops up again, and I’m fine with that. The fact that she trusts me enough to call me, hells, call me immediately is pretty surprising itself; especially given her whole, “you-might-shoot-me-someday-and-not-even-know-it” bit. So, I go down to Liberty Mills to see what’s up. Naturally people are crowdin’ and pesterin’ her, so I give Aissa some space, and head inside to man the counter. Soon she follows suit, walking in with a right hand more broken than a Ukrainian hooker. No need for me to ask and draw attention to it; so I hooked her up with a drink, and kept the barflies off her back. Naturally, Wintermute gets far-past drunk and almost eaten by some Floran. It looked like a potted plant that could've come out of Tim Burton's ass. She tries to eat everyone’s favorite Sad Matt Miller (damn, Saints Row is old), causing the guy to go all Terminator on her. The crazy Floran then scoots off, and Winter gets all maudlin and suicidal after he calms down. Bein’ about to give Aissa first aid anyway, I take some bandages upstairs and patch up Winter’s neck. I also give him some light-encouragement, and tell him to get out of the damn bathroom. Hopefully I can talk to him later, maybe sort out some of his stuff. You never know when you might get an ally out of random crap like this. Afterwards, I scoot downstairs again. I set Aissa up with a splint, and she looked to be the closest thing to grateful she could be at the time. It's not very close to grateful, by the by. Oh well. There’s something oddly cute about a monumentally pissed off lady-of-mystery waving her splint at ya all flippant-like. Hells, I’m weird.
Day ??606 A.E. Just some notes… Yung hates Remy. Yung = D. Q. Suwedi. = Emperor’s brother. Never knew Pompadour would be a player in all this. Guess a lotta people are. Levitz = Daffier than a duck. Could go totally whacko, or could end up being benignly crazy (for now). Hard to tell with these types. I’ll have to watch things closely, in case he sends someone after her. Julian = Princess Peach and Princess Leia, simultaneously. At least he likes videogames. Aissa ---> Presiding over a Mongolian Clusterfuck Elijah = Another Farric? Not like I’d let that happen, anyway. He seems to be positioning for something. What, though? As for me… Well, guess I’m along for the ride. Got promoted to Second Major of Pancakeland or something by Leon, though. That’s a plus. Also, got to meet the Archduke. Fancy that. Guess with all these people putting stuff together, someone’s gotta stand back, think, and get their hands dirty if necessary. Fine by me. Whatever it takes to keep this band of cowboys off the gallows and out of the funeral pyres. Things seem to be heating up, though. I'll see what I can do.
Day ??610 A.E. (This log is encrypted; even if Vecks’ journal is obtained, this log will not be, without the aid of someone with hacking skills.) Things’ve been happening so fast, that I’ve hardly had time to sit down and think. The lack of sleep hasn’t helped, but hey; comes with the territory. It’s just made my short term memory very, very terrible. I just need a moment to take myself back… Alright. So, this nonsense with Yung starts for me when Aissa wants a distraction. So, I call the Mayor and have him chat up the guy for awhile. From what I hear over the bug I set up in the Mayor’s office, Yung wants to get the Solari to manufacture a fleet, armed and everything. Great. So, Aissa and I decide to talk this out, after a bunch of things happened that I can hardly remember… The last thing I have with clarity is the conversation I had with her, after her world went to Hell. It’s probably whatever led up to Remy being killed. She would hardly speak for hours, and just kinda sat with me at the bar, spacin’ out. Aissa wouldn’t go into much detail, but I at least managed to piece everything together. Yung or one of his men shot Remy’s bodyguard, who could somehow see/hear/feel everything Remy does. Yung wanted to kill Remy, and he had this. Hells. So, needing a way to disrupt Yung and pay for Remy’s new servers, we came up with an idea: jack the coal/ferozium shipment going between the Solari and Zelena, then sell it on the black market. So the reward would be lots of cash, and maybe a hefty bounty if we fuck it up. It’s probably best we use a cat’s paw. Apparently Yung turned up dead, but this operation may still be in motion. We just need a guy willing to get stuck with a bounty, then some way to cart off the ore. Then it can be used to finance Remy’s hardware. Amidst all this planning, I don’t know what it was… Aissa was looking at me a certain way. She treated me with an unspoken level of disdain. She looked at me like I was an animal. I’ve seen that look before. I saw it in the mirror once. So, I did what I always have to do, when people assume I’m some bloodthirsty space cowboy. I showed her the sabre on my back; stun feature and all. Then I told her I’d only ever shot one organic since entering space; not who, though. By how her treatment of me shifted after this, it was easy to tell that I was right. No idea why that attitude started, though. Anyway, it sparked a whole discussion about her holding back from killing Yung and Levitz… I honestly wouldn’t care if she was a bloodthirsty killer herself. Not a bit. She'd still be her. Yet for some reason, she seemed to feel a tinge of regret that she wanted to throw away her restraint. I find it ironic that she got this feeling from talking to me. I have a pile of dogtags in a crate somewhere, full of people I had to kill in the wars. In space, I’ve only shot two people; Though, I’ve had to carve/bash someone up with my sabre more than a few times. Almost every time, they’ve been fixable. I had Asuka to thank for that. I can’t thank her any more. What will happen now? Whatever the case, I couldn’t handle Aissa looking at me like that. I told her my rationalization for when a kill is acceptable: either you’re out of options, or there’s an option you’d never want someone else to have. She asked if that was why I killed that guy who kidnapped her so brutally. It was. Once you’ve lost enough people, you start to protect the ones that're still around all the more fiercely. It’s kinda stupid, honestly. There’s no reason for me to believe she’d return the favor. Then again, it’s not like I’ve been in that kind of situation to find out. With everything going on though, I doubt I’d rank high enough anyway. She was savin’ all these people before I showed up. No one can save you from your reflection. I kinda hoped I could stop that, a little bit. Maybe that’s why I said I respected that last bit of restraint she had. A person with that many worries shouldn’t end up like me. (End encryption.) Day ??611 A.E. (Encrypted.) She did it. Oddly enough, it wasn’t to Yung or Levitz… It was just some hapless courier. Remy sent instructions, which said to take the box (with his brain in it)... and murder the shit out of the idiot carrying it She did it in the Cabaret too, up in the room where people usually go to bump uglies. Then, all hell broke loose. I had to get people away from that door, so no one would see that she killed someone that was wearing an EMPIRE INSIGNIA. JESUS CHRIST ON A BURRITO SHOOTING A LITHUANIAN HOOKER. GAAAAH. FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT HELL COCKMONGLING ASS ON A STICK. FU- *There are whole paragraphs of Vecks writing very colorful language.* Okay, took a deep breath… So, she sends her kid brother to stop me from seeing what she’s doing. Then I end up having to lock HIM in the fucking BATHROOM just to stop HIM from seeing. This is after I’ve already had to shoo everyone away from the source of the fricking plasma-shots. It couldn’t have possibly been more relieving when she called in Sen, and had him blow a hole in the wall, then run off with the dead body. Guess this is part of why we like Sen so much. After it was all calmed down, she showed the box to Leon and I. The moment she had calming down Leon was… Well, it was hella sweet, after all that, so it kinda made things feel somewhat better. A small little oasis of humanity. I wasn't drinking from the waters, but it was nice to see. Hells, now I'm gonna end up wanting to protect both of 'em now... When Leon had left, of course she knew that I knew. I tried to reassure her that I wasn’t judging her… She wouldn’t believe me. Truth is, she doesn’t understand why I told her not to do it. It wasn’t like telling someone that something is bad, and morally wrong… It was like telling someone to not open up Pandora’s Box. There’s no way I could judge her for it, I’ve killed for less. Still, now she may start looking in the mirror like I do. When you’re as fucked up a guy as me, you still want some reassurances that something else isn’t. It’s a hollow kinda way of knowing the world isn’t totally jacked to Hell, while you go about jacking it up yourself. She couldn't have fathomed that she'd be a part of that. Heck, she'd probably think it's patronizing or stupid. Now that it's happened, all I managed to do was make it get to her more. I’m sorry I made you think about this that way before you did your first kill. I’m sorry you have to know that I know you did it. I’m sorry that you’re more like me now. I’m sorry I stepped on you, Aissa. (End encryption.) After it all, we had a bit of relief bantering behind the bar, like everything was normal. Then some green-haired lady showed up. Apparently, some dominatrix fucked her up a little too badly in the Couch Room. She whined and bitched about the whole thing, as if we were obligated to care. This is right after, you know, all the shit I just wrote. No fucks were given. She left. Drinking resumed.
Day ??614 A.E. So, I waited a few days to let things cool down. Things were getting to be a bit heavy, so I hung back; watched some shady dealings. Then, wouldn’t you know it? Aissa and I act like smartasses over the radio, then it’s adventure time again. This time, Wintermute was on board. It was time to get those servers. At first we were going to go for the USCM, but then it turned out that Winter’s AI, “Neuromancer,” would probably hijack the whole damn military base. So, that option was out. Since he lost his chance to screw with the USCM, Wintermute ducked out for now. Instead, Aissa and I elect to go on a different vision quest. (Encryption starts) We went to go say hi to her employers, Carroli Corp, and swung by their old abandoned research station in the X Sector. We put on our space survival gear, and went to town. It was mostly hooting cameras, going for a brisk spacewalk, trying not to get sucked out of airlocks… All in all, it was pretty leisurely, peaceful even. The sight of the nearby gas-giant floating upon the starscape through the large, room-sized windows made the experience rather wistful. Good date, 4/5 stars, would visit again. The servers were submerged in coolant, so Aissa had to turn off the electricity, then she went for a swim. After she finished, it was my turn to work; we depressurized the server chamber, and I took a little space walk. I set some charges on the side of the asteroid, and blew a hole in it. With the hole made, we were able to bring up the ship, where I could scoot all the servers in one at a time. (End encryption) Afterwards, I renegotiated my pay. It’s hard not to smirk a little, and think back to when Aissa said I wasn’t very good at closing deals. If there’s one thing being a mercenary on Earth gave me, it’s that phrase: Fortis Fortuna adiuvat. Day ??614 A.E. Whenever I decide to go down to the Midnight Cabaret for drinks, some crazy shit always happens. Hells, this time it was already happening… We need to put out a sign that says "We don’t serve giant Scrap Zombie Behemoth Robots made of BULLSHIT." The thing took bullets, EMP, electricity, explosions, a chair to the head, getting tossed out a window… Then it climbed a six story building, and went off to the East. The hitpoints on this boss are too damn high. Unfortunately, I showed up late to the party. He’d already scratched up Aissa, so I grabbed the medkit from under the bar and patched her up. Wren asked if he could help, so I asked if he could fetch some bandages from the hospital… which was to the East. Hells. Aissa realized this after a minute, then broke into a mad dash; with myself and Hawke in tow. No Bullshit-Zombie-Robot attack this time, fortunately. It all went well afterwards. We went back to the MC, had some drinks; Avians talked about Avos, I talked about Earth. Aissa didn’t seem much into that conversation. I can understand that. Thinking about the streets of Dubai, the islands of Malaysia, all the tourist nonsense in Japan… It helps take my mind off of it whenever the topic comes up. Besides, gotta keep that stuff alive somehow, y’know? Everything else though… Hell with it. I never had this kinda freedom before Farric and I got off of Mars. It’s like what Farric liked to call the ship, when he was feeling wistful; stealing some words from when we worked in Japan: Jiyuu no Tsubasa. I guess since he was a Grounded, our ship was his set of wings. Talkin’ to a bunch of Avians kinda reminds me of that. Whether it makes it better, worse, or neither… Never can tell. All that matters is that I have my wings. Speaking of, Hawke (red avian) is a shady guy. What is he up to…? Day ??615 A.E. Typical day at the Cabaret. By typical, I mean everything fucking exploded into a cacophony of violence and mayhem. I was hangin' out with Aissa, Sen, a Glitch named Franz, and this crazy drunk lady he was trying to get into his bedchambers. Seems like she wanted to get there too, but not for the same reasons. Assassin? Franz did say he was leading some kind of knight’s order on Taranis. That sounds like an opportunity for her. They left, but she came back later, not drunk at all. Something was up. So, Hawke came in, and Sen leapt to his feet. He dashed towards the door, gun drawn as always (habit of his) and tried to get Hawke to drink Bloody Puss. Immediately, the “drunk” lady from before leapt down the stairs with uzis drawn, and unloaded on Sen. She lit him up like a sap-covered Christmas tree. I’m not entirely sure why, but I leapt over the bar and drew my Machete, flying into a rage. I activated its electric setting to a bit past stun, and started swinging. She managed to dodge, and kept firing on Sen, while pushing him out the door as he got riddled with bullets. A few of his shots almost caught me in the shoulder. As he stumbled onto the balcony outside, the blast door slammed down, stopping me from taking another stab at Psycho Bitch; the rubium blade sparked against the bulkhead. I banged on the door ‘till Aissa flipped the switch, and opened it up. I went to town on that bitch, slashing at her back; in the shock, she leapt onto Sen and tried to beam up with him. I grabbed her shoulders, and ZOOP! The three of us were on her ship. We wrestled in a pile while she spouted righteous bullshit, and I tried to get my blade to her neck. Sen was on death’s door, hardly able to even fight back; his weapon was lost when we beamed up. I shoved my sabre through her stomach, and the shock was almost enough to knock her out; before she spun around, and unloaded her gun at me. Bullets caught me in the side and the shoulder. I twisted the blade, until she slid off and staggered back, with her gun held to Sen’s head. He’s a clever bugger though. I started throwing obscenities at her , arguing with her logic as a distraction; she wanted to kill Sen because he tooking revenge, and clearly, there’s irony all over that. We used this as a cover, so Sen could slip his hand into his pocket while she wasn’t looking. I pretended to back up onto the teleport pad, giving her a false sense of security, while she slowly dragged herself and Sen into the cockpit. She closed the door. Sen whipped out a grenade from his pocket (hence the diversion), with the detonator pressed down; he told the bitch to put her guns in the fuel hatch and open the door. She did. I dragged Sen back to the teleport pad, while she got all maudlin about failing her mission. It all sounded like bullshit. She pressed the button to force us to beam out, before we could terrorize her further. ZOOP! We’re back at LM, surrounded by Avians with guns. FUCK THAT. ZOOP! Back up to my ship. Aissa’d been radioing me the entire time, trying to get ahold of me. Turns out, she waited at Taranis for almost an hour to try to head off the assassin, before giving the bitch good knee-capping for what she did. You never know what someone will do for ya until the chips are down. I find her (possibly not-so) gratuitous violence very touching. The process of getting the bullet in my side plucked out, maybe not so touchg. Sen left for a bit, and came back later with Julian and Landpunch. So, my possible doctors are as follows: One-handed Aissa (who had to take care of bullet-filled Sen). One-handed Julian (derpy, maybe drunk, not very reassuring). The clawed Landpunch (he looked at me like I’m nom-snacks, until I reminded him that we're homies). Aissa got enough time to clean the bullet wound, pluck it out, and then bandage it up quick. She figured I’d hate her afterwards, but… Land was offering to pluck the bullet out with his bare claws. As far as I’m concerned, it was like having a very disgruntled and mildly-sarcastic angel save you from getting your soft tissue diddled by razors. I’m cool with this. I’ll have to thank Aissa again later. Julian drank my Irish Coffee while all this was happening, out of my favorite mug. Damn you, princess. Meanwhile, Land and I went through the wild process of him learning first aid; first, we almost washed my arm wound with some kind of acid, then tool cleaner, until Aissa pointed out the right bottle. His derping was frickin’ adorable, but Hells, was I not in the mood. In the end, he got me patched up fine, even if the bandages were a bit tight. Good guy. Julian left, Aissa finished with Sen, and then we all sat down in my living room; myself and Aissa were on one side of the table, and the Florans on the other. It was like the weirdest circumstance for a double-date you ever did see. Sen told us about his dispute with Taranis, his old colony; then we took a hike to Tallest Tree’s old planet. It was just a grassy field now. Now for the important part. Why in the Nine Hells did I go nuts and try to save Sen? He asked why, and I’m not too sure. It’s one of two things: either my twisted mind thinks of him something reminiscent of a friend, or I just wanted to leap into the fray. Psycho Bitch was definitely going to kill Sen if I didn’t do anything, though. When I told the Florans this, they seemed to think the first reason was stupid; as for the second one, they weren’t so sure on that. Aissa came back before they could give further comment. Maybe that’ll give me more time to think better about my answer.
Day ??617 A.E. Bah, I think the painkillers are wearing off again… Well, might as well write while I’m still lucid. Let’s try for a second to sort out my BS. By all the lands, the sea and the sky… What in the Nine Hells is wrong with me? It was weird enough when I rescued Sen and got shot. It was relatively normal when I rescued Wren, which didn’t really risk much harm to myself. Then… this. Gotta go over events first, maybe it’ll clear my head… So, I met up with Aissa and Dre, on her new ship. Dre got a bit drunk, then had to leave for business. Left over, Aissa and I talked about stuff, then we stopped talking about stuff. Maybe I’m-losing my mind Why am I What t Fuck. I might be even less likely to write about it here than I am to talk about it. It’s not very likely that I’ll talk about it. Oh wait, nevermind. Guess I’ll have to hack through all of this later, just invited Aissa over. Back into the fray. With what, I don't know. Day ??618 A.E. Okay, let’s try this again… I’ll try to stay away from everything but the facts, until it’s all sorted out… Distress call. Wren. Why not help out the kid, right? Good guy. I beam down, and lo-and-fucking behold, it’s the Scrap Titan again. No sooner than I’ve touched ground, fully decked out in my armor and gear, the Zombie BS-Bot had Wren by the throat, ready to take a bite out of his head like it’s an apple. I unload a few explosive rounds, blowing its jaw away, just in time to draw its attention and save everyone’s favorite skittish Avian. This thing is 20k waiting to sit in my pocket. From there, I try everything I’d planned. I unload explosive rounds into its chest. I stab it with the Machete, and put the electricity up to maximum. Hells, I even end up forced to use environmental shields (human and otherwise) to avoid getting wrecked by rebar and a thrown fridge. Aissa even tried to use the Knock, and the fucker melted but kept going. He was too close to her. I had to hold back. Aissa got over the counter, moved away. Dre is passed out behind the bar, and the Titan is right next to him; hot on Aissa’s heels. She got behind the bar, it was just enough (from my experience with these grenades). Just enough to get the Titan, myself, and Dre in the blast. That wasn’t my intention though. The plasma grenades have a timer. I don’t know what the Hells I was thinking, but before any of that, I’ll just focus on what I did. I leapt in, and threw a whole bundle of plasma grenades into the holes our bullets made in the behemoth. The superheated metal on his body from The Knock detonated the grenades, sans the countdown. Boom. I wake up, and my everything is fucked. Broken ribs, ripped open bullet wounds, burns all over my chest and neck, deaf… My armor is torched, my Machete is warped by the blast… None of us three can hear worth a damn. Well, I didn’t manage to blow up Aissa. So maybe not everything. In the haze, I think I grabbed her hand or something… Then again, maybe I was dreaming it. Though, there was also a German Apache Avian and Boba Fett, both holding scythes… I thought they were a fever dream, but apparently they weren’t. Is hand-holding any less crazy? Crazy seems to be the standard lately. Still, what is this, I don't even... It was getting closer to her. I lost it again. I ran. I jumped. I dodged. I threw. The Titan and I exploded, sending his limbs everywhere... Apparently I'll do crazier things for her than I would for 20k. … Is it that amusing adorable cheeky way she talks, or that teasing coy playful odd way she looks at me. I'm still trying to figure out why talking to her makes me forget the things I hate, and remember what- Maybe it's the crazy stuff she says and does, or something about her I just can't place. Maybe it's just me getting punch-drunk after banging my head against too many walls. None of this is what I intended. It was time to stop caring, stop holding back. New Sedna is now just metal scattered across an asteroid belt. It was supposed to take my fucks with it. So where did these come from? I’ll sit down and write the rest later, meds kicking in…
Day ??618 A.E. (There is an image of a piece of paper, apparently ripped from a page. Japanese is scrawled across it with striking, fevered motions. The ink is red, and the paper seems old and worn.) 俺はどんな犠牲を払っても、あなたを守る。 わたしには何も存在しない場合、世界をもやす。 (His entry continues in the regular format.) I’ve seen his face. If I see it again, I will make sure there’s nothing left to see. A thousand deaths… Every single one will be slow. I’ve never felt this before… Every fibre of my being wants to kill him, my whole body burns with rage. My hands shake, I can feel my pulse running through me, hastening… He will die, and I will wear it on my hands. The walls will be painted with blue, green and sap. I clench my jaw, to hold it back and be kind to her… Her smile is enough to make me forget for awhile. But that same smile is why I’m burning inside… That she has to wear it with pain. Inside, my chest rips open with fury, pried open with rusted hooks. I don’t know what I feel for Aissa… or maybe I do. But I know what I feel towards the man who hurt her. There will be no restraint. There will be no mercy. I will bring him oblivion.
Day ??620 A.E. Sometimes, things happen like an explosion of activity. Sometimes, they happen like a rollercoaster. Today, however, was like an exploding rollercoaster that stayed remarkably on-track. As always, the madness began when I opened the bar. I figured it would be best place to lay in wait for the target. The bartending went normally, though people from the Holy Fleet came by. I’ve taken to calling them Eagle Scouts now; I bet they’re like those crazy militants Farric joined, judging by the general disdain they show everyone. Some guy from RA got into an argument with one (Eitan was his name.) I made him some coffee, and talked to him a bit after he finished. We talked a bit about the RA, and how the Holy Fleet seemed like it was up to some bullshit in the sector. He must’ve enjoyed the conversation, since afterward he offered to fix my armor for another batch of the brew. Damn good thing, too. A flak vest can’t save a guy from plasma grenades; not like my durasteel-weave armor. Moments later, /another/ junk glitch showed up. This instantly put me on my guard, though the scrap pile seemed oddly contrite… It kept apologizing for something. I had no idea what. Soon after, the Holy Fleet showed up again, apparently trying to capture the thing. Eitan seemed to take issue with this. So, I sided with him to stir up some conflict, and maybe get some sparks going between the two factions. I sheltered them both behind the bar’s defenses, then showed the glitch out our fridge-door so it could escape. As expected, the Eagle Scouts didn’t like this, but they blamed it mostly on Eitan. Meanwhile, I saw the whole thing as an opportunity. I let Eitan out of the bar-cage, so he could use his diplomatic status to try to diffuse things.. In this, I used him as a bit of a cat’s paw; I let him fetch the chestnut from the fire, while I sit back and drink my hallucinogenic alcohol. No need to get involved when all they need is a gentle nudge to start a war. Good times. I relaxed and watched with a smirk, as the RA and HF began their showboating, arguing, and gun-waving. If this can start on the way to getting the zealots out of the sector, I’m game. Naturally, this got a bounty placed on me. Only 10k, fortunately. So, I went to Aissa, and collected a bit of cash from the pile that she owed me. She seemed to take it from her own account. Tsk tsk. Very nice of her though. With voxels in hand, I dashed off to the bounty office, were I got to haggle with the Mayor’s alter-ego for a bit. He ended up calling some canned bird from the Holy Fleet to raise my bribe. Ended up in a bidding war, ‘till I had to give up the whole 25k from Aissa, and my plasma grenades. I think everyone will be glad for that. Speakin’ of, ended up in a fiasco with her. Apparently, the Doc thinks we’re “shagbuddies.” He interrogated me about this in public, with a flamethrower pointed at me, and about 8 people watching. Holy Hells. I guess it doesn’t help that I keep fallin’ asleep next to her at the hospital. Not that I do it on purpose. We just keep watchin’ movies together, I get comfy, and … snooze. ... God damn it, Dwayne. Wren and I talked about the HF a bit. Hope that kid’s alright. He must be brewin’ on some trauma. If he’s a “Grounded,” I’m likely gonna be getting’ into even more trouble with the HF. Joy.
Day ??621 A.E. Today’s been good for business. First I caught some redneck with a beer belly. Apparently the Eagle Scouts fucked up and let him out of his stasis pod. I got about 10k for putting him back in, so all the better for me. I heard him askin’ for evac over the radio; he even gave away his location. So, I got to the sewers first, and fired a tranq round into his ass. His buddy showed up, but he seemed to be tired of the guy’s shit, so he let me cart the drunk off to the prison. I radioed Moony, then we carried him off to a cell. Apparently she’s warden of the LM prison now, fancy that. This was after something else entirely, though… I beamed down to open the bar (Big mistake, right?). As soon as I ascend the spiral staircase, there’s Remy’s corpse, stabbed to death. Yung was standing next to it, albeit with a new outfit and haircut; acting world-weary and resigned. Almost on reflex, I drew the machete and held it up to him, charged up to stun. It’s a good thing he didn’t try to fight, since the blade of the weapon still needs repairs. He also wasn’t prepared (gun holstered), so I had an advantage. I’m not inclined to think he has combat training, either. I digress. I took Yung back to the jail. The eagle scouts showed up, and tried to arrest me too as a suspect. Fortunately, Yung was willing to confess, for whatever reason. The HF laid off of me after that. Aissa is best friends with Remy, so I made sure to let her know. After that, she didn’t reply for hours; hence my little side adventure with recapturing Duke in the sewers. When we caught up, apparently Aissa already knew about everything. Remy must have showed her a hologram, despite his damaged state. Yung (Apparently while he was “dead”) crashed the ships he ordered from Solari into Luminaria’s towers. This took out Remy’s servers, leaving the ones on Aissa’s ship as the only ones remaining. Remy seemed to be inactive for a long while, leaving us unsure of whether he was alive. Comforting Aissa was rough… Never been one who’s good with those kinds of words. Hells, I couldn’t talk myself through this kinda shit, let alone someone else. Requiem indeed. Never been good at layin’ the dead to rest. I carry ‘em. Fortunately, Remy sprung back to life after awhile. He must’ve just taken awhile to sort himself out, in the wake of having one of his backups destroyed. We talked to him a bit, before he went over to defrag, cuddled up next to Wren in the medbay. ... Hells. Kore ga ore ni... dono yō ni nasu nodesu ka? I don’t know how she does this to me. I’d tell her to stop it if I thought she knew herself. What I didn’t tell her is that “成す” doesn’t just mean “do.” It also means to achieve... To complete… To fulfill… To finish. The jury is still out on whether that’s a good thing. Then again, since when have I done what others would say is the “good thing?” If I did, I’d have been on Earth working at a 7-11 when the beast’d come. There is irony in this: idiots like me survived that clusterfuck, yet people who worked behind a desk, lived life cautiously, and paid for medical insurance… all ended up Tentacle Chow. So, if caution can get you killed, I’ll take my chances.
Day ??623 A.E. A group of guerillas busted Yung out of prison yesterday. I heard they rolled 10-deep, fully armed; led by that crazy guy with the eyepatch. Yep, the one that showed up when I capped Duke. Interesting. Aissa didn’t seem to take it well at first… She immediately bolted off to go check on Remy and Wren. I went with her, though she seemed deadest on dashing off whether I followed or not. I don’t blame her for that at all. She cares a lot about those kids. When we got shipside, we checked on them, before we moved away to discuss everything. By everything, I mean, hells… Just about everything. First we talked about Remy, and his options… It became apparent she’s fully willing to ice Julian if it’s what she has to do. That’s very interesting. Though when she said this, a question started to claw at the back of my mind… Would she shoot me, if I ended up standing in front of her, by some twist of fate? I asked it in a different way. “Who wouldn’t you shoot for Remy?” It was almost a surprise to hear “you” at the tail-end of her answer. When someone says that, all you can do is either believe it or don’t. I chose the former. Hearing it from her directly is what I needed anyway. Sometimes, it’s tough to tell exactly where someone puts you. That’s definitely the case with Aissa. From there, we transitioned to talking about alternate options. She mentioned this guy named “Lorem,” from some dead faction called the “Helios Technocracy.” She said he’s a bit of a patriarchal figure, and would likely have her undertake some (as of yet) unknown mission in turn. I jokingly brought up Doctor Dwayne, and how I’d probably end up getting interrogated by every father figure this side of the galaxy. She blushed, a rare thing for her to do mid-conversation; it was pretty cute. That’s when I caught a hint of something… Aissa really has some weird ideas about why I do things. She acted as if I visited her in the hospital so much because I’m nice or someshit. I said later that it didn’t matter to me whether I’m burnt-to-hell and recovering on the couch or the bed, as long as she’s there. She replies, “It’s good to have someone with a passing knowledge of first aid on-hand.” The fuck? It was a brick wall. She put it up for some reason or another. I started being bold, saying things that were openly warm and explaining my reasons for how I do things. Boom, wall. Reset. Every single time. It became so obvious, that I could spam the button. Eventually, she just kinda shut down, and stopped hearing anything that came outta my mouth. Whenever the wall came up, it became obvious: She’s making assumptions about my intentions, and possibly her own, to protect herself. It’s like she’s afraid of opening up, to any extent whatsoever. I asked her what she thought I was after, and she said “trust,” as if I’m still doing anything for a logical fucking reason. She really, really doesn’t get it. She’ll force herself to not hear anything I say that’d convince her otherwise. My pursuits seemed to scare her so much that, in the end, she encircled herself fully in brick. Even if I couldn’t get inside, now I know… She’s let me past before, but I didn’t know that I was actually slipping past anything. Not something this profound, anyway. She seemed even more anxious than when we were talking about life or death… So, I at least know she takes this seriously enough to flee it like she’s being chased by the jaws of oblivion. How sweet. I managed to bring some levity back in, to give her the escape she craved. We started talking about times each of us’d done something juvenile, and I said I could name a few. She bet that I couldn’t. Ultimately, it became a bet: If I named four, she’d have to pour cereal for me. Llamas, stuffed bears, lollipops, and pancakes stuck to ceilings… That cereal tasted way better than it should’ve. Maybe it was victory. Maybe it was the vague sense that… well, now that I think about it… has anyone ever done that for me, on a bet or otherwise? Oh well. I won, and that’s what matters. Wren woke up, and Leon came in a bit later. Gave him his hat back, in exchange for some Space!Sprite soaked gummy bears. They both took Yung’s breakout surprisingly well. It was good to see those kids again, too. Aissa stares daggers at me every time I laugh at Leon’s smartassing, but hells, can hardly help it. A bit later, I rolled off to bed. The night ended better than it could’ve. After hounding her that much, I wouldn’t have blamed Aissa if she wanted to toss me out an airlock. Seemed it had the opposite effect though… like she’d rather toss herself out of one. Thank the random cartoon space slug for its processed marshmallows.
Day ???629 A.E. Encryption. Spent some of that cashpile. Behold, self, my new digs. Still an ongoing project. Regardless, rockin' the Apocalypse Bunker. I'm honestly still trying to figure out which room to make mine... Should I have it be down the stairs from Aissa's, or across the way...? There's been a lot between us lately, everythin' from dates, to fights, to havin' an odd little cadre of surrogate teenage children, to... you know the rest. This is one of those times where I've got too much floatin' in my head to even try to sort it out here. She started to turn her back on me... and then she didn't. I don't know what would've happened. For some reason, something (or someone) managed to convince her that this kinda thing will never work out. After a lot of sound, fury, and... well, her being goddamned adorable, I'm probably the closest I've ever been to getting past that. Granted, it's nearly fuggin' impossible to tell how close that is, exactly. It just makes ya wonder... How many times do you have to slip beyond someone's guard, before they finally give you a pass? Words've never been my thing... Still. It'd be nice to have to stop guessing for awhile. When she said her feelings don't matter, that kinda gave it away. Yet, how do ya convince someone that they're wrong about somethin' like that? Takin' sure as hell doesn't do the job. Anythin' action-wise just gets excused away. When you're good at lying, the hardest thing seems to be gettin' someone to believe the truth. I'd say it... Yet, would she run away for good if I did? If the right moment arises, we'll just have to find out. Now for some completely different bullshit. Ain't I just the most handsome tin can ya ever seen? "Gunnar" joined the Knights Order the other day. They gave me a... spear? How the fuck am I supposed to kill anything with a thrice-damned spear? I know I always called this colony Third-World, but damn. It's like frickin' Africa in space! Plus robots. The things I do just to get contacts in weird places. End Encryption. Then, more crazy nonsense. I ran around Alioth the other day, trying to track down our odd little family of miscreants. The smart-alecky pink-haired bear, the twitchy little Avian in a letterjacket, and the bouncing blue ball with a thing for oranges and chicken nuggets. Apparently they stole off with Aissa's ship (and dog) after a crazy horseheaded guy stalked 'em. For some odd reason, Hawke decided to take them on a field trip, like some kind of shady uncle. When we catch up, I en up runnin' around to round up the crazy kids, while Aissa scolds the ones left behind; like some kinda bizarre parental unit. I know I have a predilection for shenanigans, but holy Hells... Also, apparently Remy's programming that kept 'im loyal to the empire is broken. I have no idea what that means exactly, but I bet it's a good thing... because it looks like things are gonna get rough soon. Knowing me, I'm never able to stay out of a good war. It'll be interesting to see which side I'll take.
Day ???719 A.E. Well, the worst thing that could possibly happen in war for a merc, did: nothing. The Relzurautt Armada collapsed in upon itself, and the Holy Fleet left in disgrace. The Order is also in a state of jack-shit, with internal conflict between Glitch that are for and against the Hivemind. Additionally, there is no longer anyone willing to pay for dirty deeds or cleanin up after them. Man, fuck this economy. I might have to start looking for work again. Then, Leon and Remy have vanished to hells-knows-where... No sign of them anywhere in this sector, either. Maybe it's time to move on and look elsewhere? At least Wren's okay with Hawke on Alioth, so if we gotta move on, he should be safe now. The place's no LM, at least. Them bein missing doesn't seem to help Aissa any. Her... incident with Julian kinda reminds me of what I had happen, right before I ever met her. Losing people, having it feel like it was all your fault and shit... Man, fuck guilt. Not gonna say any of that though. The last thing someone on a dead-friend-induced guilt trip needs to hear is patronizin attempts at empathy and shit. Or reminders, fuck those too. Hells, as far as I can tell, best thing I can do is what she did for me, whether she knows it or not: treat her like a person, give her somethin else to remember. Not sure if I should care more about Julian or not, but... Honestly, she could murder ten couriers or a hundred Julians, and she'd still be Aissa to me. I don't give a damn. Not that I'd say that, because it's just showing how much of an insensitive bastard I am. Hmm, now how do I make this cake... and find those teenagers. or get some work. Damn this galaxy. No World Problems.
