Zasz's Blurb Dump
- A Rough Landing -
'Those jackoffs sure took a toll on this aged junker, but it's a hard to put an old dog down without a fight.' At the thought, Zasz couldn't help but let out a deep chuckle from under that helmet of his. Truth be told though, he had a bit of a worried frown on his face; he hated situations like this, and he seemed to find himself in them more and more as of late. Still, he was surprised that this retrofitted scavenger ship had managed to keep itself in one piece. In saying that like a curse from the machine gods, the first of the dual thrusters that propelled his vessel gave a groan of stressed metal and explosive exhaust before tearing away from the hull and falling off in the darkness behind him. Alright, so mostly one piece. All that mattered was that it kept intact enough to maintain a vacuum and keep the slaver from being sucked out into the void. Just a little further towards the closest station, he could dock at after his haphazard jump through space.
Farport.
The station designator blinked garishly with their custom font on the navigation system display. How could he not have heard of it, perhaps lady luck smiled down on him after all in sending him this way? This time he made sure to knock his plated knuckles against the nearly fried console he was managing, just in case. The autopilot had long since shut itself down to preserve power for more vital systems, which in turn were also clicking off in like an old man struggling for that last breath. Hell, the comm line wasn't even functioning as he had to patch the ship's ID through his suit and boost the signal with what he little power he could pull without shutting off the sublight engines.
"Delta Bravo Delta six one four one zero eight eight, Screaming Devil looking to dock. Might I suggest being quick about it, I'm coming in one way or the other with the shape my ship is in right now."
Zasz did, in fact, receive a hasty response.
"Screaming Devil, from our scanners, it appears your craft is barely holding together. If you're able to make it to dock 7-C without it seeming like you're going to crash into the station, you're more than welcome. If not, we're going to have to shoot you down to prevent any damage."
Then the click from the mic and a silent grin from Zasz. Who did they think he was? He didn't plan on dying in such a pitiful manner. At least they were giving him the chance, and to credit this the slaver merely figured he'd cashed in about all of his chips to make it this far. Hands working the console again with much haste he carefully adjusted engine output and made precise corrections in thrust direction to line himself up with the docking gate. Zasz had been flying across the stars for nearly the better half of his life, and he'd made far worse landings than this. Calculations as correct as he could assume them to be, he pressed one last button and the sole remaining engine silenced itself into inactivity. Letting inertia take it from here, the minutes passed as slow as the ice forming inside the eerily creaking hull.
With baited breath, Zasz nailed the docking. He watched as the clamps readied to accept the busted husk. Slowly but surely, his vessel finally came to a halt with somewhat of a lurch as the station struggled to hold the ship in place. Sliding his hands across the various panels, what remaining systems went offline, life support included. His suit, however, was airtight and came with its own brief supply of oxygen. It wasn't a large by any means, the Screaming Devil that is, taking the Taldarian but a few steps to make it to the doors after getting out of the pilot's seat. With everything shut down, he needed to pull down on the lever by the exit to force the metal entrance apart. That was that, goodbye to the old dog. It probably wouldn't be here when he returned, as he planned to put it up for scrap auction immediately. Much better to be out of that cramped deathtrap and somewhere that didn't sound like it was about to crumble out from under his feet. Still, he wasn't off the hook yet.
"Passport and ship credentials."
Head turned to the male beside him. At the checkpoint, Zasz let out a quiet sigh, these formalities were the same nearly in every port of call, but they were a hassle and a waste of time all the same for the slaver. A single hand rummaged around through his coat for a small electronic screen which displayed a picture and name that clearly wasn't the man standing before the dock official. In his defense, Zasz did own the ship, he just appropriated it without filing the necessary paperwork as paper trails were a silent killer in the underground. "Look, the day has been unkind to me, and I think we both could benefit from this being a smooth as possible process" From under that passport, the slaver deftly brought a credit chip into the officer's vision with a number displayed that could make even a high-class escort blush. Now, he hadn't been here for some time, but Farport was never known for its pristine law and order, and while occasionally bribes outright failed the masked man, this would not be the case. Accepting the credits, Zasz passed by without another holdup, stuffing the fake credentials into his coat for safekeeping. Now the bribe had not been unsubstantial, but this sector was a breeding ground for an opportunity in his line of work. He had no doubt about it, he could make it in full and more so.
Realistically, Zasz was in no hurry nor did he have any schedule to keep. Few knew his face as he was one of many individuals with full body suits when he had a constantly shifting voice modulator there were next to no consistent records left behind. With more falsified documents than he could count and a line of credit that would take serious dedication to lead to his actual name, he worried not about where his path took him. Whoever he happened to come across would be worth it in the end, he never went after a useless mark. The docks were not where he desired to be though, so the tall Taldarian with heavy steps made his way towards the market district of which likely held more interest in him than any other area. Along the streets and side corridors Zasz made his way, each face he passed would be marked and run through his personal algorithm to give a general idea of the kind of price the people he came into contact might be worth to him on the market. Ultimately, it provided a rough estimate rather than the end all be all, but it pushed him in the right direction. Such a tool also was of no use against someone like himself, when features were indiscernible. Purse Street, aptly named, shops aplenty and ware ranging from junk to priceless; one merely needed to know where to stick their head and be careful about how they went about it. Too many years had passed since he walked these artificial streets, for good reasons, but such were minor details that didn't need to be discussed here and now.
Disappointment filled the slaver, how could there not possibly be anyone of interest. Hell, he'd have to collar a dozen people off the street just to make back half of what he'd paid in the bribe. Even the brawl he passed several clicks back held nothing for him. The beast far too large for him to adequately restrain and the others involved coming up as above average at best. Getting ready to up and head off to another, more promising district a reading came out on his HUD that stopped him in his tracks cold.
No data
Taking a step back, Zasz peered through the glass window where the marked target stood in full view. Such a tiny creature, unique in every sense of the word and more. Like the flowers surrounding her, she was beautiful yet fragile, in bending the stem of one of the plants she'd too would snap in two. Shutting down his program, he decided on a potential sell. Thus he entered the place of business, Tranquility Floral Arrangements. Needing to bend down slightly to fit through the entrance, he took to walking around examining her specimens on display; whatever commotion he interrupted was paid little mind. Zasz lacked personal understanding of the variety, only what information his database pulled from the net. Reaching out, he brushed his hand against the leaves of one of the larger potted shrubs. Rustling them more than he expected, the man quickly pulled back and got on with the show. "You sell plants?" His question seemed had to have been ridiculous to the owner. Of course she did, it was plain as day. Still, the surprise had to have been common, or perhaps he really had been away from the station for quite some time. "I must say in the times I've visited I have never heard of such a place. I just had to come in and see it for myself when I passed by." It was hard to tell where Zasz had his attention directed, but under the helmet his eyes were trained solely on the Nymph. He made no motion to move closer, in fact he held his hands firmly behind his back. "In this, I must admit that I'm a bit flustered. I came in out of interest, yet I have not a clue to what I'm doing."
Farport.
The station designator blinked garishly with their custom font on the navigation system display. How could he not have heard of it, perhaps lady luck smiled down on him after all in sending him this way? This time he made sure to knock his plated knuckles against the nearly fried console he was managing, just in case. The autopilot had long since shut itself down to preserve power for more vital systems, which in turn were also clicking off in like an old man struggling for that last breath. Hell, the comm line wasn't even functioning as he had to patch the ship's ID through his suit and boost the signal with what he little power he could pull without shutting off the sublight engines.
"Delta Bravo Delta six one four one zero eight eight, Screaming Devil looking to dock. Might I suggest being quick about it, I'm coming in one way or the other with the shape my ship is in right now."
Zasz did, in fact, receive a hasty response.
"Screaming Devil, from our scanners, it appears your craft is barely holding together. If you're able to make it to dock 7-C without it seeming like you're going to crash into the station, you're more than welcome. If not, we're going to have to shoot you down to prevent any damage."
Then the click from the mic and a silent grin from Zasz. Who did they think he was? He didn't plan on dying in such a pitiful manner. At least they were giving him the chance, and to credit this the slaver merely figured he'd cashed in about all of his chips to make it this far. Hands working the console again with much haste he carefully adjusted engine output and made precise corrections in thrust direction to line himself up with the docking gate. Zasz had been flying across the stars for nearly the better half of his life, and he'd made far worse landings than this. Calculations as correct as he could assume them to be, he pressed one last button and the sole remaining engine silenced itself into inactivity. Letting inertia take it from here, the minutes passed as slow as the ice forming inside the eerily creaking hull.
With baited breath, Zasz nailed the docking. He watched as the clamps readied to accept the busted husk. Slowly but surely, his vessel finally came to a halt with somewhat of a lurch as the station struggled to hold the ship in place. Sliding his hands across the various panels, what remaining systems went offline, life support included. His suit, however, was airtight and came with its own brief supply of oxygen. It wasn't a large by any means, the Screaming Devil that is, taking the Taldarian but a few steps to make it to the doors after getting out of the pilot's seat. With everything shut down, he needed to pull down on the lever by the exit to force the metal entrance apart. That was that, goodbye to the old dog. It probably wouldn't be here when he returned, as he planned to put it up for scrap auction immediately. Much better to be out of that cramped deathtrap and somewhere that didn't sound like it was about to crumble out from under his feet. Still, he wasn't off the hook yet.
"Passport and ship credentials."
Head turned to the male beside him. At the checkpoint, Zasz let out a quiet sigh, these formalities were the same nearly in every port of call, but they were a hassle and a waste of time all the same for the slaver. A single hand rummaged around through his coat for a small electronic screen which displayed a picture and name that clearly wasn't the man standing before the dock official. In his defense, Zasz did own the ship, he just appropriated it without filing the necessary paperwork as paper trails were a silent killer in the underground. "Look, the day has been unkind to me, and I think we both could benefit from this being a smooth as possible process" From under that passport, the slaver deftly brought a credit chip into the officer's vision with a number displayed that could make even a high-class escort blush. Now, he hadn't been here for some time, but Farport was never known for its pristine law and order, and while occasionally bribes outright failed the masked man, this would not be the case. Accepting the credits, Zasz passed by without another holdup, stuffing the fake credentials into his coat for safekeeping. Now the bribe had not been unsubstantial, but this sector was a breeding ground for an opportunity in his line of work. He had no doubt about it, he could make it in full and more so.
Realistically, Zasz was in no hurry nor did he have any schedule to keep. Few knew his face as he was one of many individuals with full body suits when he had a constantly shifting voice modulator there were next to no consistent records left behind. With more falsified documents than he could count and a line of credit that would take serious dedication to lead to his actual name, he worried not about where his path took him. Whoever he happened to come across would be worth it in the end, he never went after a useless mark. The docks were not where he desired to be though, so the tall Taldarian with heavy steps made his way towards the market district of which likely held more interest in him than any other area. Along the streets and side corridors Zasz made his way, each face he passed would be marked and run through his personal algorithm to give a general idea of the kind of price the people he came into contact might be worth to him on the market. Ultimately, it provided a rough estimate rather than the end all be all, but it pushed him in the right direction. Such a tool also was of no use against someone like himself, when features were indiscernible. Purse Street, aptly named, shops aplenty and ware ranging from junk to priceless; one merely needed to know where to stick their head and be careful about how they went about it. Too many years had passed since he walked these artificial streets, for good reasons, but such were minor details that didn't need to be discussed here and now.
Disappointment filled the slaver, how could there not possibly be anyone of interest. Hell, he'd have to collar a dozen people off the street just to make back half of what he'd paid in the bribe. Even the brawl he passed several clicks back held nothing for him. The beast far too large for him to adequately restrain and the others involved coming up as above average at best. Getting ready to up and head off to another, more promising district a reading came out on his HUD that stopped him in his tracks cold.
No data
Taking a step back, Zasz peered through the glass window where the marked target stood in full view. Such a tiny creature, unique in every sense of the word and more. Like the flowers surrounding her, she was beautiful yet fragile, in bending the stem of one of the plants she'd too would snap in two. Shutting down his program, he decided on a potential sell. Thus he entered the place of business, Tranquility Floral Arrangements. Needing to bend down slightly to fit through the entrance, he took to walking around examining her specimens on display; whatever commotion he interrupted was paid little mind. Zasz lacked personal understanding of the variety, only what information his database pulled from the net. Reaching out, he brushed his hand against the leaves of one of the larger potted shrubs. Rustling them more than he expected, the man quickly pulled back and got on with the show. "You sell plants?" His question seemed had to have been ridiculous to the owner. Of course she did, it was plain as day. Still, the surprise had to have been common, or perhaps he really had been away from the station for quite some time. "I must say in the times I've visited I have never heard of such a place. I just had to come in and see it for myself when I passed by." It was hard to tell where Zasz had his attention directed, but under the helmet his eyes were trained solely on the Nymph. He made no motion to move closer, in fact he held his hands firmly behind his back. "In this, I must admit that I'm a bit flustered. I came in out of interest, yet I have not a clue to what I'm doing."
- A Day in the Life Pt. 1 -
Technical documents were visibly scanned with an alacrity above and beyond even talented speed readers. With his ocular implant, Zasz Fenris needed only to glance at a page or screen of words and the hardware coupled with advanced translation and storage software executed the rest. With select topics such as botany, the slaver preferred to savor the old-fashioned act of reading itself, but with manuals, news feeds, and content of comparable bulk information he'd rather just store to access when necessary. Suddenly his vision blurred, muscles around his artificial eye contracting uncontrollably. The spasms lasted but a fleeting few moments.
The implant was acting up, and the frequency of the episodes continued getting worse.
Thankfully, Zasz was already on route to this fix this complication; that is as soon as his automated skiff reached its destination.This fellow, in particular, had sold him the malfunctioning optic and Zasz fully intended to collect on a promised lifetime warranty. Always a pain in his ass these matters were. In many reaches of space, Zasz was designated quite clearly as a person of interest to the galactic federation in over two hundred abduction cases; a reward of ten million credits for leads that successfully brought in an arrest. However, certain organizations and governments were considerably displeased with the idea of the captain being detained by the legal security of a government prison complex choosing to post bounties of their own varying from fifty million all the way up to one hundred and fifty million credits dead or alive.
This left Zasz coming up short in options regarding surgical operations to receive implants, and the individuals he'd vetted for these procedures were few and far between. Trust when concerning Zasz Fenris was about as trying a feat to earn as a mark escaping his clutch. Luckily, Zasz had a silver lining in all of this. Back on Voskova, there existed a lovely lass who at great risk to herself transported barebone suits to him when she was able. On Voskova, one's family was everything and Zasz never once forgot this. Again, his problem was modifying the suit itself and having physical modifications to his body performed.
Having traveled for the better part of a standard day put Zasz on edge. The conversation with his connection had been painfully vague.
"I'll find you when you get there, don't worry about it."
Zasz worked best with all the pieces on the table, so to speak. How was he not to present a measure of concern when a crucial detail such a secure meeting location was lacking? Either way, there was no sense complaining at this point, Zasz had already arrived. As he docked at the out of the way spaceport, Zasz crammed the thin booklet into the confines of his winter coat. From behind his helmet, the slaver took note of the activity in what appeared to be a bustling marketplace. Removing his hulking figure from the cramped cabin of his taxi Zasz trudged onward without a real direction. This locale was far from desirable, teeming with cutpurses, prostitution, and currently three active fist fights. Where most would be wary at traipsing through a criminal infested port, Zasz instead felt at ease. There was a distinct lack of law enforcement. Also, one tended not to fuck with a seven-foot tall cyborg looking motherfucker without cause.
In that same vein, if one were to approach Zasz, they likely had business with him or were too high on red sand to recognize a threat. As a diminutive lad who had all of the distinct features of a thief blatantly approached Zasz, he rather took it as an invitation from his supplier.
Following in step removed the pair from the populated sectors and into twisting corridors. An occasional shout or scream rang out, but in reality, it was all but drowned out by the hum of the inner workings of the station. Coming to a halt for a second, the boy pointed at a nondescript section of titranium plating to their side before stepping into it and vanishing. Curious, but not hesitant, Zasz followed suit and in turn found himself in a brightly lit store front containing various humanoid modifications.
"Ah, Brax'ii, I see that you've chosen a locale most inconspicuous. A refractive and adaptive hard light barrier to obscure the entrance? A nice touch." Zasz spoke with his modulated pitch through the filter of his mask, his back to the owner and the boy as he ran his metallic digits over where he had passed by, inspecting the sophisticated method of cloaking.
Brax'ii was an odd gentleman if one could even fathom calling him as such. Hovering several feet in the air on a mobile platform, sat the fat torso of a pale humanoid male, connected by various tubes and circuitry weaved into his base. There were two withered arms atrophied from disuse, What would serve as the cyborg's motor skills was a half dozen gold plated extensions, multi-jointed and tipped with numerous attachments for different functions. "Zasz, this is hardly a social gathering. I suspect you are here for something worth my time?" Brax'ii too had his face in an enclosure of sorts, though where Zasz had a militaristic design, Brax'ii had elected a hideous piece of headgear. Demonic features accented against a black steel backing, a deep crimson glow to the eye sockets with tall curved horns atop his skull. A growl of a tone emitted, but Zasz was not even remotely intimidated. Brax'ii was a clever creature and remarkably vain despite his unsightly body.
A hiss of air released as the latches connecting Zasz's helmet disconnected, the captain of the Greenhouse taking deep strides towards the counter Brax'ii floated behind. Removing the veil to reveal a scarred grimace of his own, he pointed a thick finger to his twitching ocular. "You botched the nervous attachment. Shit's spasming on the hourly now." The cybernetics dealer and physician levitated up and over the countertop to take a better survey of Zasz's complaint. Strange limbs began poking and prodding at the tough skin around the eye in question all while Zasz remained motionless as a statue. "I'm not surprised, you know. You gave me a timeframe to work with and I did just that, I thought you'd be back sooner, honestly. If you've got a few hours to spare, I can do this proper. Better yet, if you've credits to spare, I can upgrade it, got a newer model in a couple weeks back."
As it were, Brax'ii knew how to twist the augmented man's arm. He hadn't intended on spending a dime this whole trip, but here was about to fork over the credits to pay for a new implant as well as the doctor's exorbitant install rates. Placing a cred stick onto Brax'ii's platform with a sigh, Zasz meandered with his partner in tow, heading to the back room where the operations took place. "By the way, did you order that special part I forwarded to you in my last communique."
Suddenly disgruntled, Brax'ii groaned but gave a trio of clicks of his tongue in confirmation. "I am not installing that fetish suite of yours. You can pick up the package when you leave. Best do it yourself unless you want to lose some of that highly valued Fenris respect." Receiving only a low chuckle from the slaver, the two disappeared behind the curtain of the operating facility.
The implant was acting up, and the frequency of the episodes continued getting worse.
Thankfully, Zasz was already on route to this fix this complication; that is as soon as his automated skiff reached its destination.This fellow, in particular, had sold him the malfunctioning optic and Zasz fully intended to collect on a promised lifetime warranty. Always a pain in his ass these matters were. In many reaches of space, Zasz was designated quite clearly as a person of interest to the galactic federation in over two hundred abduction cases; a reward of ten million credits for leads that successfully brought in an arrest. However, certain organizations and governments were considerably displeased with the idea of the captain being detained by the legal security of a government prison complex choosing to post bounties of their own varying from fifty million all the way up to one hundred and fifty million credits dead or alive.
This left Zasz coming up short in options regarding surgical operations to receive implants, and the individuals he'd vetted for these procedures were few and far between. Trust when concerning Zasz Fenris was about as trying a feat to earn as a mark escaping his clutch. Luckily, Zasz had a silver lining in all of this. Back on Voskova, there existed a lovely lass who at great risk to herself transported barebone suits to him when she was able. On Voskova, one's family was everything and Zasz never once forgot this. Again, his problem was modifying the suit itself and having physical modifications to his body performed.
Having traveled for the better part of a standard day put Zasz on edge. The conversation with his connection had been painfully vague.
"I'll find you when you get there, don't worry about it."
Zasz worked best with all the pieces on the table, so to speak. How was he not to present a measure of concern when a crucial detail such a secure meeting location was lacking? Either way, there was no sense complaining at this point, Zasz had already arrived. As he docked at the out of the way spaceport, Zasz crammed the thin booklet into the confines of his winter coat. From behind his helmet, the slaver took note of the activity in what appeared to be a bustling marketplace. Removing his hulking figure from the cramped cabin of his taxi Zasz trudged onward without a real direction. This locale was far from desirable, teeming with cutpurses, prostitution, and currently three active fist fights. Where most would be wary at traipsing through a criminal infested port, Zasz instead felt at ease. There was a distinct lack of law enforcement. Also, one tended not to fuck with a seven-foot tall cyborg looking motherfucker without cause.
In that same vein, if one were to approach Zasz, they likely had business with him or were too high on red sand to recognize a threat. As a diminutive lad who had all of the distinct features of a thief blatantly approached Zasz, he rather took it as an invitation from his supplier.
Following in step removed the pair from the populated sectors and into twisting corridors. An occasional shout or scream rang out, but in reality, it was all but drowned out by the hum of the inner workings of the station. Coming to a halt for a second, the boy pointed at a nondescript section of titranium plating to their side before stepping into it and vanishing. Curious, but not hesitant, Zasz followed suit and in turn found himself in a brightly lit store front containing various humanoid modifications.
"Ah, Brax'ii, I see that you've chosen a locale most inconspicuous. A refractive and adaptive hard light barrier to obscure the entrance? A nice touch." Zasz spoke with his modulated pitch through the filter of his mask, his back to the owner and the boy as he ran his metallic digits over where he had passed by, inspecting the sophisticated method of cloaking.
Brax'ii was an odd gentleman if one could even fathom calling him as such. Hovering several feet in the air on a mobile platform, sat the fat torso of a pale humanoid male, connected by various tubes and circuitry weaved into his base. There were two withered arms atrophied from disuse, What would serve as the cyborg's motor skills was a half dozen gold plated extensions, multi-jointed and tipped with numerous attachments for different functions. "Zasz, this is hardly a social gathering. I suspect you are here for something worth my time?" Brax'ii too had his face in an enclosure of sorts, though where Zasz had a militaristic design, Brax'ii had elected a hideous piece of headgear. Demonic features accented against a black steel backing, a deep crimson glow to the eye sockets with tall curved horns atop his skull. A growl of a tone emitted, but Zasz was not even remotely intimidated. Brax'ii was a clever creature and remarkably vain despite his unsightly body.
A hiss of air released as the latches connecting Zasz's helmet disconnected, the captain of the Greenhouse taking deep strides towards the counter Brax'ii floated behind. Removing the veil to reveal a scarred grimace of his own, he pointed a thick finger to his twitching ocular. "You botched the nervous attachment. Shit's spasming on the hourly now." The cybernetics dealer and physician levitated up and over the countertop to take a better survey of Zasz's complaint. Strange limbs began poking and prodding at the tough skin around the eye in question all while Zasz remained motionless as a statue. "I'm not surprised, you know. You gave me a timeframe to work with and I did just that, I thought you'd be back sooner, honestly. If you've got a few hours to spare, I can do this proper. Better yet, if you've credits to spare, I can upgrade it, got a newer model in a couple weeks back."
As it were, Brax'ii knew how to twist the augmented man's arm. He hadn't intended on spending a dime this whole trip, but here was about to fork over the credits to pay for a new implant as well as the doctor's exorbitant install rates. Placing a cred stick onto Brax'ii's platform with a sigh, Zasz meandered with his partner in tow, heading to the back room where the operations took place. "By the way, did you order that special part I forwarded to you in my last communique."
Suddenly disgruntled, Brax'ii groaned but gave a trio of clicks of his tongue in confirmation. "I am not installing that fetish suite of yours. You can pick up the package when you leave. Best do it yourself unless you want to lose some of that highly valued Fenris respect." Receiving only a low chuckle from the slaver, the two disappeared behind the curtain of the operating facility.
- An Unexpected Reunion -
Zasz Fenris found himself in a tight bind.
Though his eyes were open, darkness enveloped him, and while he could not see his surroundings, the slaver did understand that he was currently in motion. Not of his own volition, as his limbs were about as useful as his helmets optics; his suit had been locked up. Through force of will, he pushed down the urge to retch as it would only exacerbate this terrible situation to cover his face and neck in bile. Nausea accompanied by a consistent, dull throbbing at the back of his skull were the tell-tale signs of a concussion, that and the fact that he had been straining to remember how he'd come to his current predicament, and who exactly his companions dragging his paralyzed shell were. Minutes passed by silently, without the speakers in his helmet, he couldn't make out the faint mutterings of the individuals, only the scraping of his metal legs across the floor rung out clearly.
Right, they'd caught him mid-jump. Zasz had just met with a prospective client in a region that was rather heavily policed due to political unrest in the sector. He was no amateur, though, the course back to his main vessel had been painstakingly charted as perhaps the most obtuse journey possible, many of the hops being through void zones where no one lived or trafficked.
Still, someone had managed to ambush him all the same. Their opening salvo had torn his transport skiff apart without outright killing him, and likely the sudden impact caused him to lose consciousness. Maybe the meeting itself had been a set-up, strange considering how vetted the client seemed to be.
Federation Police? A private mercenary force looking to claim his bounty? A militant squadron from some planet he'd wronged?
Mentally musing at the list of usual suspects, his thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt halt to his movements and then the whir of a laser cutter. Precise incisions allowed the handler to remove his helm and toss it aside, allowing Zasz the gift of sight once more, which he immediately stare right up at the one who still held the power tool in his grip with a vile grimace. Most would have winced and strained to see their captors at this moment due to their eyes being unadjusted to the unexpected flash of light, but Zasz long since had his sight cybernetically enhanced.
"Fuck"
Groaning out the curse, he strained to twist his vision at the others surrounding him. They were all clad in full-body cybersuits jet black aesthetics with silver accents. Even at a glance, Zasz could tell these were high-end models, military-grade, not unlike his own. On their right shoulders was an embellished insignia that might have been insignificant to an unknowable eye, but he was intimately associated with this particular group.
These assholes were Taldarian special operatives, his homeworld had managed to track him down.
"The infamous Zasz Fenris in the flesh, or mostly anyway. I'm sure you've still got a bit of meat somewhere under that suit." The digitized voice came from the figure in front of him, whom he assumed at this point to be the one in charge of the operation.
Zasz opened his mouth to utter a snide rebuttal, but before he could even begin, his words turned into a guttural howl as voltage coursed through him; his body could only bruise itself against the metal confines of his suit as he convulsed from the forced stimulation
"Yeah..." The officer began, motioning to one of the soldiers next to him, who he now noticed had a tablet with a cord jacked into his armor. "It took us a bit to break through your jerry-rigged encryption, but we've got you quite restrained now. I'd prefer you not to speak unless it's to answer a question."
Zasz guessed their first inquiry before it left the vocal speakers in their helmet. "Where are you keeping..."
"The princess." Zasz cut them off, though this time he was not subjected to an electric muscle massage.
The only reason the squad hadn't spaced him with their surprise attack, he possessed rather key information regarding a missing member of Taldarian royalty.
"Quite right, it'd be in everyone's best interest for you to divulge her location. Her people, your people, miss her terribly."
Zasz weakly chuckled even though it pained him to do so before his response. "You've not offered an incentive for me to do so, but I assume that is because my information would not absolve me of my crime. You're going to torture me and drag me back to the empire in chains regardless." Zasz would shrug indifferently if possible, but sadly the motion was impossible. "Do your worst, I'd prefer to be brought home with you having failed to break me. One of the few insults I can give you in this circumstance" He grinned up at the commander and grit his teeth as he was once more shocked, this time until his vision faded and he passed into unconsciousness.
"Put him in the cage, we've got a long trip back to Voskova"
-----------
When Zasz regained consciousness he had indeed been retrained in a cage of a sort. This metal box restrained the slaver by holding him aloft with restrictive cabling from the solid walls. Of course, their true purpose was to constantly keep his suit powered down; a fact which his current guard seemed to be currently checking out. Zasz didn't feel any worse for wear than he had been earlier, so he couldn't have blacked out for more than a half-hour. Through the sole transparent wall of the microprison, each inspected the other, however, only one would be alive a second further.
A quiet clunk, as if the tumbler for a lock had fallen into place, then crimson and brain matter spattered the shell of his cage. A hole had silently been blown into his jailer skull, helmet and all. Before his guard dropped to the floor like a rag doll, Zasz peered through the perforated head, smoke poured from the barrel of a gun, or at least he assumed it to be one. His savior had a personal cloaking device of sorts, a decent model too as it prevented Zasz from making out any details other than a general size and shape. "How did these idiots managed to catch you?" A distorted voice echoed from the figure, though somewhat feminine as their light refraction program shut down to render them fully visible to Zasz. "This is dangerous territory, highly monitored. I thought you'd be smarter than to take a contract out here." A pause, likely accompanied by a sigh, not that the microphone picked it up. This person, Zasz examined, wore a full-body encloser of a similar model to his own, though, clearly modified for use in subterfuge and built for a feminine frame.
Zasz, however, did audibly sigh, "The whole endeavor was a setup, which I realize now after the fact, it didn't matter which route I took. Why are you here though, Andy?" His cracked lips curled into an awkward sort of smile that only the slaver could wear, his response immediately garnered a kick to his cage as if to silence what he thought was a decent show of compassion for his twin sister, Andrea Fenris.
"One of my connections picked up a black ops mission to pick up a high priority target. I did a bit of digging and found the squad being sent after you. Sneaking this suit aboard the vessel was easy enough, they weren't expecting betrayal from within the empire." Quickly she went over to the control panel to the prison and jacked into it, beginning the laborious process of cracking through the credentials to free her brother. "Remote connecting to this suit from Voskova was the hard part, but you would know that wouldn't you? You're quite experienced in long-distance control of these suits." Zasz couldn't see her raised brow from back home, but he certainly knew it was there along with her condescending tone no matter how modulated it was.
"The safest place to keep my insurance against the Voskovan government is right under their noses. I have a high ranking contact who shares similar views to my own and whom I paid a sizable credit bounty to build a backdoor connection through their planetary firewall." As he finished explaining, the locks holding him rigid disengaged, the dampeners cutting power to his suit ceased their humming as well. Little by little his enclosure began to recharge its batteries and he regained the control of his motor functions. As soon as his ocular implant received enough of a charge his standard HUD scrolled across his vision and Zasz began to assess the damage done and what systems to prioritize coming back online.
"The brass ones you have to pull that off." Another pause, another silent sigh, "They will never stop hunting you as long as you continue to hide her, but you know that right? I suppose that's you just sticking it to the government, though. I don't have to sense your thoughts to understand that much." Andrea went over to the door of the cage and released the latch to free Zasz from within.
Slowly, Zasz pushed himself to his feet, not without some struggle, however. Thankfully, his sister was soon there to stabilize his movements, wrapping an arm around him and holding him against her side as they made their way out of the room. "It was the best way for me to right how I've been wronged." He winced as she flicked a hard metallic digit into the size of his bald head.
"Idiot" She dragged out the word spitefully. "What you've done is worse than your initial crimes they charged you with. They'll never forgive this, so you'll never release her. It's a self-propagating cycle." The two continued their mindful gait, passing from one hallway into another. Zasz assumed their destination to be, well, not this; he thought, staring at the airlock they were now stopped in front of. "You're a lucky SOB, brother," Andrea muttered while jacking into the controls.
"Because all of the soldiers are already in cryo?" He knew this wasn't what she meant, as it was merely a prerequisite for his rescue in the first place.
"Obviously that is not what I'm talking about. You're a martyr back home for the radical technophiles. They've grown into a full-blown political party, and are recruiting more to their side by the day. Some are theorizing that there will be a global ideological shift within the deca..." She caught herself from rambling further, as well as taking note that she had sliced into the door commands. Zasz, on the other hand, was turned away from her, reaching a hand behind his back to remove what had been a small circular disc that as previously concealed. Analyzing it through her own HUD she gasped, audibly this time. "There's enough detonation wire in there to blow a hole right through the hull." As if a natural response on his part he moved to slap the hand sided explosive to the wall next to the airlock door.
"Insurance in case I ever found myself in an impossible scenario and wanted to take a few bastards down with me or to avoid an unnecessarily painful death."
Shaking her featureless masked head, Andrea removed a small black circle from one of her waist compartments and placed it against Zasz's forehead. "You're bad for my heart, brother," she replied as a translucent bubble formed an airtight seal to provide a temporary replacement for his discarded helmet. With him secured against the vacuum of space, she opened the first stage of the airlock and pulled him along to enter the compartment. As the door hissed closed behind him, she posed the final question, "Are you ready?" He merely nodded, grinning at what she knew would be immense satisfaction killing his prior captors. The duo embraced each other tightly as not to be separated, and Andrea tapped a command on her writ console.
With the outer airlock door open, the two were unceremoniously spit into the bleak darkness of the void. Before the vessel could make it too far from Zasz, he made sure to detonate his explosive device, which in turn blasted away the entirety hull surrounding the airlock. In the blink of an eye, with the vessel tore itself apart from the sudden depressurization.
Andrea, linked to her brother emphatically, couldn't help but share in his giddiness over murdering those soldiers.
A sickeningly wide flash of his teeth and laughter which couldn't be heard past his mask.
Behind her monitor back on Voskova, she too was cackling and clutching her lengthy violet locks between slender fingers.
As they drifted through space laughing, each pressed their face-plates to the other in a rare show of affection.
-----------
Zasz would eventually be picked up by Rocket, to whom he sent an encoded message to after his escape. His sister had long since disconnected from her suit, which left Zasz with the awkward task of lugging it onboard his mechanic's ship while he waited for the heat on him to die down to return to the Greenhouse.
Just another day in the life of Zasz Fenris
Though his eyes were open, darkness enveloped him, and while he could not see his surroundings, the slaver did understand that he was currently in motion. Not of his own volition, as his limbs were about as useful as his helmets optics; his suit had been locked up. Through force of will, he pushed down the urge to retch as it would only exacerbate this terrible situation to cover his face and neck in bile. Nausea accompanied by a consistent, dull throbbing at the back of his skull were the tell-tale signs of a concussion, that and the fact that he had been straining to remember how he'd come to his current predicament, and who exactly his companions dragging his paralyzed shell were. Minutes passed by silently, without the speakers in his helmet, he couldn't make out the faint mutterings of the individuals, only the scraping of his metal legs across the floor rung out clearly.
Right, they'd caught him mid-jump. Zasz had just met with a prospective client in a region that was rather heavily policed due to political unrest in the sector. He was no amateur, though, the course back to his main vessel had been painstakingly charted as perhaps the most obtuse journey possible, many of the hops being through void zones where no one lived or trafficked.
Still, someone had managed to ambush him all the same. Their opening salvo had torn his transport skiff apart without outright killing him, and likely the sudden impact caused him to lose consciousness. Maybe the meeting itself had been a set-up, strange considering how vetted the client seemed to be.
Federation Police? A private mercenary force looking to claim his bounty? A militant squadron from some planet he'd wronged?
Mentally musing at the list of usual suspects, his thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt halt to his movements and then the whir of a laser cutter. Precise incisions allowed the handler to remove his helm and toss it aside, allowing Zasz the gift of sight once more, which he immediately stare right up at the one who still held the power tool in his grip with a vile grimace. Most would have winced and strained to see their captors at this moment due to their eyes being unadjusted to the unexpected flash of light, but Zasz long since had his sight cybernetically enhanced.
"Fuck"
Groaning out the curse, he strained to twist his vision at the others surrounding him. They were all clad in full-body cybersuits jet black aesthetics with silver accents. Even at a glance, Zasz could tell these were high-end models, military-grade, not unlike his own. On their right shoulders was an embellished insignia that might have been insignificant to an unknowable eye, but he was intimately associated with this particular group.
These assholes were Taldarian special operatives, his homeworld had managed to track him down.
"The infamous Zasz Fenris in the flesh, or mostly anyway. I'm sure you've still got a bit of meat somewhere under that suit." The digitized voice came from the figure in front of him, whom he assumed at this point to be the one in charge of the operation.
Zasz opened his mouth to utter a snide rebuttal, but before he could even begin, his words turned into a guttural howl as voltage coursed through him; his body could only bruise itself against the metal confines of his suit as he convulsed from the forced stimulation
"Yeah..." The officer began, motioning to one of the soldiers next to him, who he now noticed had a tablet with a cord jacked into his armor. "It took us a bit to break through your jerry-rigged encryption, but we've got you quite restrained now. I'd prefer you not to speak unless it's to answer a question."
Zasz guessed their first inquiry before it left the vocal speakers in their helmet. "Where are you keeping..."
"The princess." Zasz cut them off, though this time he was not subjected to an electric muscle massage.
The only reason the squad hadn't spaced him with their surprise attack, he possessed rather key information regarding a missing member of Taldarian royalty.
"Quite right, it'd be in everyone's best interest for you to divulge her location. Her people, your people, miss her terribly."
Zasz weakly chuckled even though it pained him to do so before his response. "You've not offered an incentive for me to do so, but I assume that is because my information would not absolve me of my crime. You're going to torture me and drag me back to the empire in chains regardless." Zasz would shrug indifferently if possible, but sadly the motion was impossible. "Do your worst, I'd prefer to be brought home with you having failed to break me. One of the few insults I can give you in this circumstance" He grinned up at the commander and grit his teeth as he was once more shocked, this time until his vision faded and he passed into unconsciousness.
"Put him in the cage, we've got a long trip back to Voskova"
-----------
When Zasz regained consciousness he had indeed been retrained in a cage of a sort. This metal box restrained the slaver by holding him aloft with restrictive cabling from the solid walls. Of course, their true purpose was to constantly keep his suit powered down; a fact which his current guard seemed to be currently checking out. Zasz didn't feel any worse for wear than he had been earlier, so he couldn't have blacked out for more than a half-hour. Through the sole transparent wall of the microprison, each inspected the other, however, only one would be alive a second further.
A quiet clunk, as if the tumbler for a lock had fallen into place, then crimson and brain matter spattered the shell of his cage. A hole had silently been blown into his jailer skull, helmet and all. Before his guard dropped to the floor like a rag doll, Zasz peered through the perforated head, smoke poured from the barrel of a gun, or at least he assumed it to be one. His savior had a personal cloaking device of sorts, a decent model too as it prevented Zasz from making out any details other than a general size and shape. "How did these idiots managed to catch you?" A distorted voice echoed from the figure, though somewhat feminine as their light refraction program shut down to render them fully visible to Zasz. "This is dangerous territory, highly monitored. I thought you'd be smarter than to take a contract out here." A pause, likely accompanied by a sigh, not that the microphone picked it up. This person, Zasz examined, wore a full-body encloser of a similar model to his own, though, clearly modified for use in subterfuge and built for a feminine frame.
Zasz, however, did audibly sigh, "The whole endeavor was a setup, which I realize now after the fact, it didn't matter which route I took. Why are you here though, Andy?" His cracked lips curled into an awkward sort of smile that only the slaver could wear, his response immediately garnered a kick to his cage as if to silence what he thought was a decent show of compassion for his twin sister, Andrea Fenris.
"One of my connections picked up a black ops mission to pick up a high priority target. I did a bit of digging and found the squad being sent after you. Sneaking this suit aboard the vessel was easy enough, they weren't expecting betrayal from within the empire." Quickly she went over to the control panel to the prison and jacked into it, beginning the laborious process of cracking through the credentials to free her brother. "Remote connecting to this suit from Voskova was the hard part, but you would know that wouldn't you? You're quite experienced in long-distance control of these suits." Zasz couldn't see her raised brow from back home, but he certainly knew it was there along with her condescending tone no matter how modulated it was.
"The safest place to keep my insurance against the Voskovan government is right under their noses. I have a high ranking contact who shares similar views to my own and whom I paid a sizable credit bounty to build a backdoor connection through their planetary firewall." As he finished explaining, the locks holding him rigid disengaged, the dampeners cutting power to his suit ceased their humming as well. Little by little his enclosure began to recharge its batteries and he regained the control of his motor functions. As soon as his ocular implant received enough of a charge his standard HUD scrolled across his vision and Zasz began to assess the damage done and what systems to prioritize coming back online.
"The brass ones you have to pull that off." Another pause, another silent sigh, "They will never stop hunting you as long as you continue to hide her, but you know that right? I suppose that's you just sticking it to the government, though. I don't have to sense your thoughts to understand that much." Andrea went over to the door of the cage and released the latch to free Zasz from within.
Slowly, Zasz pushed himself to his feet, not without some struggle, however. Thankfully, his sister was soon there to stabilize his movements, wrapping an arm around him and holding him against her side as they made their way out of the room. "It was the best way for me to right how I've been wronged." He winced as she flicked a hard metallic digit into the size of his bald head.
"Idiot" She dragged out the word spitefully. "What you've done is worse than your initial crimes they charged you with. They'll never forgive this, so you'll never release her. It's a self-propagating cycle." The two continued their mindful gait, passing from one hallway into another. Zasz assumed their destination to be, well, not this; he thought, staring at the airlock they were now stopped in front of. "You're a lucky SOB, brother," Andrea muttered while jacking into the controls.
"Because all of the soldiers are already in cryo?" He knew this wasn't what she meant, as it was merely a prerequisite for his rescue in the first place.
"Obviously that is not what I'm talking about. You're a martyr back home for the radical technophiles. They've grown into a full-blown political party, and are recruiting more to their side by the day. Some are theorizing that there will be a global ideological shift within the deca..." She caught herself from rambling further, as well as taking note that she had sliced into the door commands. Zasz, on the other hand, was turned away from her, reaching a hand behind his back to remove what had been a small circular disc that as previously concealed. Analyzing it through her own HUD she gasped, audibly this time. "There's enough detonation wire in there to blow a hole right through the hull." As if a natural response on his part he moved to slap the hand sided explosive to the wall next to the airlock door.
"Insurance in case I ever found myself in an impossible scenario and wanted to take a few bastards down with me or to avoid an unnecessarily painful death."
Shaking her featureless masked head, Andrea removed a small black circle from one of her waist compartments and placed it against Zasz's forehead. "You're bad for my heart, brother," she replied as a translucent bubble formed an airtight seal to provide a temporary replacement for his discarded helmet. With him secured against the vacuum of space, she opened the first stage of the airlock and pulled him along to enter the compartment. As the door hissed closed behind him, she posed the final question, "Are you ready?" He merely nodded, grinning at what she knew would be immense satisfaction killing his prior captors. The duo embraced each other tightly as not to be separated, and Andrea tapped a command on her writ console.
With the outer airlock door open, the two were unceremoniously spit into the bleak darkness of the void. Before the vessel could make it too far from Zasz, he made sure to detonate his explosive device, which in turn blasted away the entirety hull surrounding the airlock. In the blink of an eye, with the vessel tore itself apart from the sudden depressurization.
Andrea, linked to her brother emphatically, couldn't help but share in his giddiness over murdering those soldiers.
A sickeningly wide flash of his teeth and laughter which couldn't be heard past his mask.
Behind her monitor back on Voskova, she too was cackling and clutching her lengthy violet locks between slender fingers.
As they drifted through space laughing, each pressed their face-plates to the other in a rare show of affection.
-----------
Zasz would eventually be picked up by Rocket, to whom he sent an encoded message to after his escape. His sister had long since disconnected from her suit, which left Zasz with the awkward task of lugging it onboard his mechanic's ship while he waited for the heat on him to die down to return to the Greenhouse.
Just another day in the life of Zasz Fenris