Special Branch: The Execution of Vixen Goddard
POSTED BY: SoulOfSerenity
UPDATED: Tuesday, February 1, 2011 15:54
VIEWED: 29582
PAGE 2 of 7
“Evening Wisp, or should I say Ensign William Spacer, Valedictorian. Congratulations by the way.”
“Cheers Carl”
“What are you doing down here in the ranges? Graduations tomorrow I thought you’d be finishing writing your speech?”
“No I’m going stir crazy sat staring at the paper, thought I’d come down fire off a few rounds let off steam.”
“Sure, sure there’s nobody down here it’s all yours. Also as you’re an ensign now I can let you into the enlisted gear.”
“Nice. Erm, I’ll take a look at the X-57 Widow Sniper rifle, Vindicator assault, and how about a Shuriken Sub-Machine pistol?”
“Sorry Wisp you’re only allowed one at a time you know the rules”
“Come on Carl you know as much as I do that rules only there for stock issues. Im just trying to save you trips into the back. I’m not gonna pinch em.”
“Yea Suppose you’re right.” He stood up from the desk and headed into the back shouting over his shoulder as he went “It’d be one hell of a head line ‘Valedictorian steals Military hardware’ Hahaha. Here ya are. Sniper, Assault and a Machine pistol.”
“Could you pass me a body armour set? I wanna get the feel for a full combat gear.”
“Don’t get too comfy in that combat gear. With your record you’ll be lucky to see any ground deployment before they whisk you off to ship duty!”
Carl passed him the body armour which fitted over his undress uniform. Wisp then began fixing the two rifles to his back and the sidearm on his hip. As he reached for the last weapon he released a spray from a small aerosol covertly in his hand.
“We’ll I’ll probably shoot for about an hour then turn in. You look tired, maybe you should have a nap?”
“Yea.. I was feeling pretty beat. If anyone comes by just gimme a nudge.”
“Sure thing Carl, Night Night” Carl promptly fell asleep and began snoring heavily.
As soon as he was out Wisp headed for the emergency exit, picking up a rucksack of his clothes on the way. Before he’d covered half the distance he had a portable terminal in his hand which he used to disable all the alarms on the door for when he reached it. He stepped out into an area on the edge of campus where live fire trials were carried out. After a quick check on direction he set off towards town at a quick jog.
He’d planned this escape for month down to the last details, although he’d had the idea a few years previously. He didn’t want to be some military thug for the faceless alliance, he wanted freedom. At first all the guns and orders were exactly what a young teenage boy wanted, but soon he started finding the lectures and tactics went against his personal morals. Nobody seemed to care about people, in fact people seemed to be the biggest thing getting in the way of the grand scheme of Alliance control. He tried to talk to his parents about his opinions and after they’d changed their underwear told him in no uncertain terms to forget these silly ideals and fall in line. Well Wisp didn’t want to fall in line, and the more he sat through those lectures and read about how the cogs of the Alliance really worked he wanted to blow the whole line to hell.
He reached the fence exactly on schedule and began his next step. Unfortunately the security here wasn’t as easy to bypass as the door earlier so it required some creative thinking. Well the creative thinking had been done before time and all Wisp needed to do now was press a button and execute the whole thing. When he did every light-flyer on the base suddenly turned on and engaged their engines at full throttle, simultaneously every internal alarm on the base activated and one section of the outer wall went down for one minute. Of course the outer wall was entirely overlooked in the chaos and Wisp was over the wall and into the wilderness. The weapons he’d stolen were top of the line and should keep him safe until he could get off world.
But now he was free. No longer forced into service in the great conspiracy, his future was his own.
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Seryn had woken to a completely empty room, and found herself to be a shade disappointed. Two years without any sensible - or even insensible - adult company and she'd been looking forward to seeing the others if for nothing other than a good natter about the bad old days.
She wondered how her son was doing. She'd been away before, often trips to find supplies would take her further afield, and when that happened he always seemed content to be left in the care of the grizzled old woman she'd hired to care for him. The woman was an angel with the boy, but her disapproval of Seryn herself was palpable. In the beginning it had been fine, then she'd let slip that her husband had died years before Fins birth. How to explain that one... She guessed the woman was a good sort, and had certainly proven herself trustworthy. Magda was a closed book in many ways, and that suited Seryn's situation completely.
Looking over the map again she couldn't think of any improvements in the plan but one - a change of getaway vehicle.
Safe had picked a good spot, but if they were seen it wouldn't stop every ship in the verse knowing what they looked like in under a minute. When things got hot, a second option would be just the ticket.
Donning all the daft skirts and restricting corsets was time consuming and dull, but by the time she left the hotel she fit right in with the local gentry. And not a one of them would have guessed at the number of weapons these things could conceal. She grinned - five knives was a lot even for her, and they were stashed in the most surprising places. The jacket was tight over her hips but loosened in folds above the waist, perfect for concealing her favorite gun. And the skirt had long splits in the folds leading to pocket bags that she'd filled with an ample supply of smoke cannisters and flash bombs - parlour tricks, but could come in handy. Even the stupid little handbag contained some 'helpful' items. She may just keep some of the wardrobe on her return to her little moon.
Suppressing the frown that idea prompted, she stepped out into the street and made her way through the throngs of people. Preparations for the execution were underway and even this far away from the site the millitary presence was noticably heavier. Overheard conversations seemed to be of nothing else - afterall, she guessed at some point or another various members of the crew had managed to p*** of a number of these people personally.
She set a lazy, sauntering pace and took time to reach her destination, once or twice quite welcoming the attentions of passing people. Men doffing hats in greeting was one of those revived customs that she was actually beginning to quite like.
Man, she had to get a lodger.
The repair yard she was looking for was tucked away behind a number of small shops selling food and various other consumables. Turning into what she guessed was the office she plastered on her best, most vacant smile.
The slightly greasy guy who seemed to be in charge ate up her cover story, greedily totting up the amounts he could overcharge her for what was actually a none existant repair. In reality she'd crossed the wires herself - even if they didn't fix it, it was the work of moments to put it to rights. But it meant her ship would be here, ready and waiting when she needed it.
She thanked him profusely and watched the towing cart trundle away, then made her way through the ever more packed streets to the execution ground.
OOC I found a picture of Claudia that I thought would be perfect for my avatar seeing as Saffron went for a burton - not to serious and not to silly, but shrunk down now she just looks very grumpy. So I apologise to all of you for the glaring - i'll get round to replacing it at some point. I also have to admit that i forgot the kids name. yup, i'll be that kind of a mother. So I went back and reread the Motherhood for heros thread - we were so funny! I'll aim for some of that again i promise.
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What do you choose for your last meal? Do you want your favourite food? Maybe you want a meal that reminds you of a happy memory? Do you want to make a statement and eat nothing? Do you respect the traditions of which ever mealtime happens to be your last?
Vixen Goddard was hungry for her last meal; the week in Biostasis had left her drained, weak and nauseous. But on this her final morning her strength and appetite had returned to her, so she was determined to make her last meal a hearty one.
“Steak. Rare. And I mean rare. If it aint swimming in blood im sending it back. Then I want Jiangyin potatoes extra spicy. Beer. Something hearty and dark. And chocolate cake. With Ice cream, And Fudge sauce. In fact every kind of chocolate you’ve got put it on there.”
The young chef left the cell with a bewildered expression staring at his precise meal plan. Most inmates don’t seem so excited about their last meal, but Vixen had been practically ecstatic. The truth was she was at some sort of peace this morning. She didn’t know why but getting a lot of her baggage off her chest had made her feel better. It had made the priest feel a hell of a lot worse. He had to run out to throw up at several of the graphic descriptions of violence, he left vowing to pray for her soul every hour he was left alive.
But this was her last day alive. Nobody was coming to save her. She could leave this world without fear or guilt. And she could enjoy one last meal before she died. Hell it was more than she’d given a lot of people.
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What do you choose for your last meal? Do you want your favourite food? Maybe you want a meal that reminds you of a happy memory? Do you want to make a statement and eat nothing? Do you respect the traditions of which ever mealtime happens to be your last?
Vixen Goddard was hungry for her last meal; the week in Biostasis had left her drained, weak and nauseous. But on this her final morning her strength and appetite had returned to her, so she was determined to make her last meal a hearty one.
“Steak. Rare. And I mean rare. If it aint swimming in blood im sending it back. Then I want Jiangyin potatoes extra spicy. Beer. Something hearty and dark. And chocolate cake. With Ice cream, And Fudge sauce. In fact every kind of chocolate you’ve got put it on there.”
The young chef left the cell with a bewildered expression staring at his precise meal plan. Most inmates don’t seem so excited about their last meal, but Vixen had been practically ecstatic. The truth was she was at some sort of peace this morning. She didn’t know why but getting a lot of her baggage off her chest had made her feel better. It had made the priest feel a hell of a lot worse. He had to run out to throw up at several of the graphic descriptions of violence, he left vowing to pray for her soul every hour he was left alive.
But this was her last day alive. Nobody was coming to save her. She could leave this world without fear or guilt. And she could enjoy one last meal before she died. Hell it was more than she’d given a lot of people.
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What do you choose for your last meal? Do you want your favourite food? Maybe you want a meal that reminds you of a happy memory? Do you want to make a statement and eat nothing? Do you respect the traditions of which ever mealtime happens to be your last?
Vixen Goddard was hungry for her last meal; the week in Biostasis had left her drained, weak and nauseous. But on this her final morning her strength and appetite had returned to her, so she was determined to make her last meal a hearty one.
“Steak. Rare. And I mean rare. If it aint swimming in blood im sending it back. Then I want Jiangyin potatoes extra spicy. Beer. Something hearty and dark. And chocolate cake. With Ice cream, And Fudge sauce. In fact every kind of chocolate you’ve got put it on there.”
The young chef left the cell with a bewildered expression staring at his precise meal plan. Most inmates don’t seem so excited about their last meal, but Vixen had been practically ecstatic. The truth was she was at some sort of peace this morning. She didn’t know why but getting a lot of her baggage off her chest had made her feel better. It had made the priest feel a hell of a lot worse. He had to run out to throw up at several of the graphic descriptions of violence, he left vowing to pray for her soul every hour he was left alive.
But this was her last day alive. Nobody was coming to save her. She could leave this world without fear or guilt. And she could enjoy one last meal before she died. Hell it was more than she’d given a lot of people.
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What do you choose for your last meal? Do you want your favourite food? Maybe you want a meal that reminds you of a happy memory? Do you want to make a statement and eat nothing? Do you respect the traditions of which ever mealtime happens to be your last?
Vixen Goddard was hungry for her last meal; the week in Biostasis had left her drained, weak and nauseous. But on this her final morning her strength and appetite had returned to her, so she was determined to make her last meal a hearty one.
“Steak. Rare. And I mean rare. If it aint swimming in blood im sending it back. Then I want Jiangyin potatoes extra spicy. Beer. Something hearty and dark. And chocolate cake. With Ice cream, And Fudge sauce. In fact every kind of chocolate you’ve got put it on there.”
The young chef left the cell with a bewildered expression staring at his precise meal plan. Most inmates don’t seem so excited about their last meal, but Vixen had been practically ecstatic. The truth was she was at some sort of peace this morning. She didn’t know why but getting a lot of her baggage off her chest had made her feel better. It had made the priest feel a hell of a lot worse. He had to run out to throw up at several of the graphic descriptions of violence, he left vowing to pray for her soul every hour he was left alive.
But this was her last day alive. Nobody was coming to save her. She could leave this world without fear or guilt. And she could enjoy one last meal before she died. Hell it was more than she’d given a lot of people.
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What do you choose for your last meal? Do you want your favourite food? Maybe you want a meal that reminds you of a happy memory? Do you want to make a statement and eat nothing? Do you respect the traditions of which ever mealtime happens to be your last?
Vixen Goddard was hungry for her last meal; the week in Biostasis had left her drained, weak and nauseous. But on this her final morning her strength and appetite had returned to her, so she was determined to make her last meal a hearty one.
“Steak. Rare. And I mean rare. If it aint swimming in blood im sending it back. Then I want Jiangyin potatoes extra spicy. Beer. Something hearty and dark. And chocolate cake. With Ice cream, And Fudge sauce. In fact every kind of chocolate you’ve got put it on there.”
The young chef left the cell with a bewildered expression staring at his precise meal plan. Most inmates don’t seem so excited about their last meal, but Vixen had been practically ecstatic. The truth was she was at some sort of peace this morning. She didn’t know why but getting a lot of her baggage off her chest had made her feel better. It had made the priest feel a hell of a lot worse. He had to run out to throw up at several of the graphic descriptions of violence, he left vowing to pray for her soul every hour he was left alive.
But this was her last day alive. Nobody was coming to save her. She could leave this world without fear or guilt. And she could enjoy one last meal before she died. Hell it was more than she’d given a lot of people.
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What do you choose for your last meal? Do you want your favourite food? Maybe you want a meal that reminds you of a happy memory? Do you want to make a statement and eat nothing? Do you respect the traditions of which ever mealtime happens to be your last?
Vixen Goddard was hungry for her last meal; the week in Biostasis had left her drained, weak and nauseous. But on this her final morning her strength and appetite had returned to her, so she was determined to make her last meal a hearty one.
“Steak. Rare. And I mean rare. If it aint swimming in blood im sending it back. Then I want Jiangyin potatoes extra spicy. Beer. Something hearty and dark. And chocolate cake. With Ice cream, And Fudge sauce. In fact every kind of chocolate you’ve got put it on there.”
The young chef left the cell with a bewildered expression staring at his precise meal plan. Most inmates don’t seem so excited about their last meal, but Vixen had been practically ecstatic. The truth was she was at some sort of peace this morning. She didn’t know why but getting a lot of her baggage off her chest had made her feel better. It had made the priest feel a hell of a lot worse. He had to run out to throw up at several of the graphic descriptions of violence, he left vowing to pray for her soul every hour he was left alive.
But this was her last day alive. Nobody was coming to save her. She could leave this world without fear or guilt. And she could enjoy one last meal before she died. Hell it was more than she’d given a lot of people.
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Has anyone else had any trouble with the new website? Because it seems ALL of my old posts have been deleted? Can anyone else see them/ have a saved copy of the old thread with them in?
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