18 Sep. 2416 "Three thousand credits. That's it, Ms. McKinley." The expression on the rat's face was almost enough to drive her over the edge. His narrowed brow; the bored, disinterested expression. Contempt for her, that's what it was. By Christ, she'd reach over and tear his throat from his fucking neck.. But she couldn't. The Council Colonial Administration representative just glared at her as she sat on the other side of the sleek, white table; his holo-computer humming and flashing as his fingers deftly input the banking information. She, on the other hand, just grit her teeth and watched as she was ripped off by a distant government on a distant world. Three thousand credits; just barely enough to pay for the fuel she spent on gathering those star charts. This was a month long job; almost the entirety of the time she'd spent away from the Frontier at this point, and she had scoured the outer Frontier, gathering information on what may lie out on the fringes of deep, deep space, before returning to this shitty little colony on the edge of civilization to deliver what she found. It wasn't much; a few colonizable planets and some interesting solar formations, but they promised her far, far more for what she had done. "Y'know," She muttered darkly as her sapphire eyes bore into the representatives. He didn't even look down to watch what he was typing. "You ain't gonna get much more business from us if ya' keep rippin' off your clientele, you fucking prick." He sighed. "I'm just the messenger, miss. The local CA Admin didn't find anything interesting in your reports. The price drop was outlined in your contract, afterall." He pressed the transfer button, and proceeded to turn around to collect a receipt of transfer printing out behind him. "I read the fuckin' contract," she spit back as she watched him. Her hands were stuffed in between her legs; gripping the front of her chair until her fingers were white. "And binary star data was included in the fuckin' outline for full payment." "Our complaint department is open at all times," he muttered dryly as he turned about and, with a dead look in his eyes, set the receipt down in front of her... "Have a nice day, ma'am." With a deep, guttural growl, she promptly snatched the receipt off the table and gripped it in both hands, before promptly tearing it in half, and tossing it deftly upon the representative's desk. And with that, she promptly rose to her feet and left the representative's desk behind her, although she was still in earshot when she heard that little expletive escape his lips. Bitch. A word she was quite familiar with. She shook her head, her hands clenched tightly as could be, as she made her way to the exit of the building. It was like an airport security checkpoint on Earth, with Council Security Officers patting people down, scanning them for weapons, as they made their way through a long line. People trying to get work. Trying to get visas off world. Citizenship. Complaints. You name it. "Here you are ma'am." She blinked, and looked upwards to spot a security guard a few inches taller than she extending the butt of a hand gun in her direction. The same look the representative had was in his eyes; partially hidden by the visor over his features. Disdain. Dull. As if this shitty job was his last chance. She knew the feeling. "Right. Thanks, I guess," she muttered quietly as she promptly snatched the weapon out of his hand, and proceeded out of the bright, white building that looked as if it was straight out of a 21st century person's interpretation of the future. She hit the magazine release on the replica Makarov pistol and inspected the rounds in the weapon. Full, and with one still in the chamber. At least they didn't fiddle with that. She pushed the magazine back into the weapon, thumbed the safety off, and pushed the weapon back into her holster. She took a deep breath. And coughed. Dreskin's air was foggy; filled with smoke and smog, like Ancient China. An industrial world trying to catch up with the likes of the future. The native buildings of the world were stark in contrast to that of the Council Representative Building. Brick, or steel. Dirty. Trash gathered outside. Vagrants made their way about; searching for food, for money. Bothering those who just happened to be a bit luckier, for their own income. Even in her own sorry state, she was eons better off than those that inhabited this shitty ball of dirt and greed. Her boots creaked as she walked along the cracked sidewalk as she made her way back to the local starport; just a mile and a half down this business district. Her thick jacket was flowing in the gentle, smokey breeze of the streetway. Her beanie was snugly fitted over her head, and her jeans were kept tightly to her person by her holster, where she kept that Makarov. That special reminder of better times. Who would have thought a handgun would be representative of a brighter time in her life? The irony was palpable, and she almost smiled at the thought. In her deep thoughts, however, she hardly noticed the sound of footsteps creeping up behind her. ...
