*Following is a decoded transmission from a rouge group of radio waves found zipping randomly through space, the changes of detecting and decrypting them to the vocalizations that they are would be slim. Dating them would reveal they've been travelling for a few years, somewhere between 1-2.* The frantic voice of Captain: "There's no turning back now!" Mellow-toned Thorne: "This was a mistake." The exited voice of Captain: "I know!" A very harsh snap of metal is heard, then complete silence for 7 seconds until the signal ends.
*The closest to a memoir Pope will ever have is an audio log chip rotting in a trash can on Liberty Mills. However, contained within are the following few audio snips.* Pope's accusatory voice of justice: "So, pimp, who are these cheap hoes o' yours? Flat female voice: "Can I just kill this one?" Pope's sensual, loin-melting lisp of humor: "I don't suppose you've got your eye on a pretty gal already, do you, kid?" *Mild interference* Pope's voice: "Hahaha! The adorable bastard blushed! And it doesn't take two and two to figure out who he's got his eye on. Good luck, kid." Pope's patient, calm, and explanatory dialogue: "I don't know what the hell I did wrong, but whatever I did wrong, they sure as hell were punishing me for it!" Irritated commanding female voice: "Sir, we cannot allow you to enter the colony with your criminal record, now please get down from the table." Pope's flawless rational: "No, fuck tha-" Pope's inquisitive intelligence: "So, what do Florans hunt?" Floran voice: "Whatever isss ssstupid enough to get ssstab with ssspear." Pope's demonstrable genius: "Oh. So… like a steak?" Floran's awe at genius: "Sssteak?" Pope preaching a sermon: "The way I see it, God gave us the natural gift to fuck lousy sons of bitches up. Therefore whenever I see a lousy son of a bitch I hit him right in his lousy son of bitch face." Pope making a reasonable request at the Wolves Den: "Akoris, can I punch you? Please?" Captain's pimp voice: "Pope, you're crazy." Pope's defense of steel: "I am not! They're trying to kill me!" Captain's pimp voice: "Who?" Pope's observation: "What difference does that make? Every one of them!" Captain's pimp voice: "Every one of whom?" Pope's flawless intellect: "Every one of the people trying to kill me!" Captain's pimp voice: "How do you know they are?" Pope's fist of justice: "How do you know they aren't?" Captain's pimp voice: "Pope… you're crazy." Pope: "Well… shit. I just don't know anymore. Not that I ever knew anything, much, really. I helped some people, drank some pretty heavy drinks, quit drinking, started drinking again, said some sappy sermons, got arrested three times, and helped save a life or two on the side after punching lousy sons of bitches in their lousy son of bitch faces. *Snort* What a life. The pimp hasn't been around, and the Fleet looks like it took its course back home, kid with 'em. I'm gonna miss the lil' feathered guy. Strangest thing is, I still can't remember having anything before the life I had when I got here. I mean, sure, the Precinct gave me a bunk, some rags, but it was all the property of the building, and none of it was really mine. Same pick I smacked at those walls for years to chance hitting a tiny vein of iron or coal wasn't mine either, even though it made me stronger. Well, fuck it. En Passant, if you're out there, I hope the gold you hauled out of the Precinct made your sorry handsome French ass rich and you live floating down a river of wine on a giant baguette with a woman under each arm, you lousy bastard. So, what now? …" Last time Pope was on Mills: "Ah, what the hell." *Click*
[Detects, seeing that its one of Clarice's many boyfriends, downloading it for future blackmail use.] - Marilyn
[Subliminal Ads for Terrible Browser Games using Giant Female Breasts as a marketing ploy float in sub-space as they look for their next victim to promise: "Once you're in, your friends won't be seeing much of you!"]
Somewhere in deep space, the rotting hull of a long abandoned ship can be found. The ship itself doesn't seem to match any known model. Sensors aboard your ship are able to pick up an odd radio signal emanating from somewhere from the ship- but there is nothing there capable of transmitting even a weak signal. ((2spooky5me)) The following is the radio transmission received. ((The results of which are from a google search of 'creepy radio transmissions'.))
*A radio signal is received somewhere in the realm of Antares, around at the same time every day. It comes from a torn hull of a ship harboring Port Last/Opportunity. It has a Russian flag painted poorly on the side of the half-torn vessel. This radio signal is recieved at close range of the planet;*
