GR RP 'Adventures In GunRunning' ACT 25

POSTED BY: CapnRahn
UPDATED: Monday, May 30, 2005 17:34
VIEWED: 27521
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MERCEDESTROY

Thursday, February 3, 2005 2:26 AM

MERZ move

LOCATION - BACK HALL

In a distracted sort of way, Merz watches River dash past her. She has no desire to follow the girl, she does not know what is going on. Not really. As she walks back to the dining area she considers Brink Helsing ... should she have concerns for him? Perhaps not now, not yet. Merz does not want to talk to him over a link. When she speaks to him again it will be face to face, where she can sense him, as well as his words.

And tonight, ah, tonight is for something else. Something new. Perhaps others will join her soon, teach her how to have a 'party'. For the moment she will return to her chair and analyze what has occurred so far. So very interesting ...

Reaching the dining room once again she takes her original chair, pours a glass of water and sips it. Once again she is upright in her chair, forgetting her relaxed pose while distracted by other thoughts. Troy thoughts. To be anything else will require much more time than she has already had...

EOM

A man who loves, you buys you flowers. A man who wants you, buys you diamonds. But a man who trusts you - buys you weapons!

CHANNAIN

Thursday, February 3, 2005 8:24 PM

Rowan's Move
LOCATION - FRONT HALL to GALLEY

Seeing no one in the corridor, Rowan climbs out and snugly closing the crew quarters hatch. Switching the ping grid back on, she heads silently back toward the galley. It's intriguing that the captain doesn't have the grid actually hooked up to anything. Could be that his notion was to just use a little psychology on Damon and no actual disciplinary measures. That would imply that Reynolds has a heightened level of compassion that he's been keeping under wraps. A rare thing to find in mercenaries these days.

Returning to the Galley, she finds that Merz is back. Contrary to her behavior before, Merz seems to be back in "Troy" mode somewhat. She's relaxed, but still maintaining a military posture in the chair. Actually, that attempted slouch had been more unnerving to Rowan's frame of mind - unnatural to the Merz she's come to know. Like she was trying to imitate a visualization without really being able to comprehend what she was doing. It's as if she's never seen people just being people.

And since no one else is around, this might be a good time to try another lesson in nine-ball.

ROWAN: "Hey, Merz. Feel like shooting some stick?"

As Merz contemplates her answer, Rowan picks up the bao platters again and moves them over to the counter. Discretely, she rearranges a few to cover for those she took down to Damon.

EOM

Fans come and fans go...but zealots are with you until the bitter black end.
I draw...therefore I am. http://www.mnartists.org/artistHome.do?rid=7922
Minnesota Meetup - join us! http://firefly.meetup.com/45/

MERCEDESTROY

Friday, February 4, 2005 12:42 AM

MERZ move

LOCATION - DINING ROOM As ...

ROWAN
“Hey, Merz. Feel like shooting some stick?”

She opens her eye, and watches a bit as Rowan prepares the room for another game. Yes, that will do nicely. She fills her water glass and her shot glass, and sets them both out of the way, and in reach. She sets her chocolate near. Glancing at Rowan and what she is doing Merz can see less of the bao than she remembers. She closes her eyes and tilts her head, thinking hard. Her perceptions are a bit, well … skewed tonight. Did she eat that much of the treat?

Merz pushes that thought aside. No matter, she honestly believes not. Standing out of Rowan’s way she prepares; relaxing her muscles and bringing to the forefront of her mind, such instruction as she has already received, the feel and balance of the stick, the concept of hard and gentle. Coupled with that are Merz’ observations of Rowan’s techniques, and … the feel of her hands. Odd. But helpful, the play of the muscles and the ebb and flow of her movements behind Merz.

As yet, Merz has not had sufficient practice to start deviating from her initial memorization of Rowan’s style and technique. So once again she assumes Rowan’s characteristics in preparation. Perhaps this time, she will go further …

It does not occur to her to speak to Rowan: beginning to feel her as family, she has forgotten that among civilians, words are both necessary and appreciated.

EOM

A man who loves, you buys you flowers. A man who wants you, buys you diamonds. But a man who trusts you - buys you weapons!

MANIACNUMBERONE

Sunday, February 6, 2005 8:23 AM

Book's Move
Locale: Same... Bridge

Book watches the fading white bulb of light on the monitor diminish into nothingness as Wash continues to vent. Then there is only black. The playback rang hollow in his ears. How attached are we to our doctor!!?? He thinks... What in the Hell is going on!? He wrenches himself away from the emptiness that awaits him in the blankness of the screen and turns to Mal. He needs Mal to be Mal. Something is very wrong.

EM

KALENVOR

Thursday, February 10, 2005 5:57 AM

Bolo's Move
Location - Bolo's ship

A smile curled over the Bolo's lips excellent.
"Thank you controller Malachi.. and for your assitance I will see to it you are rewarded for helping me in the capture of this renegade"

With that he begin the sequence to dock the ships to each other to allow the passing of the prisoner, he was excited, this had been easy and would hopefully continue to be so, and in a merefew days he could return and he would get what was rightfully his.

EOM

Everyone has their weaknesses. Some people smoke, I collect stuffed penguins, if you don't tell I won't.

RAVENWHYTEWING

Thursday, February 10, 2005 9:03 PM

Renegade?!

Slight leaps to his feet, as malachi gives his gurgling laugh again. With one punch, Malchi is slammed against a wall, his jaw practically spinnig around his face. He puts his hand to it, still grinning at Slight. Slight begins with a growl, and ends in a full roar, his smooth, aqualine voice holding the power of an approaching storm.
This is what you do for Ariel? This is how you repay my offer, by declaring me your prisoner?
I pray to the Void that it swallow you piece by piece if I find you alive again. You have made your final mistake.
Slight brings what nanytes are left into a short blade. As Malachi continues to try to smile, he stalks forward, keeping the blade hidden. Malachi brings his hands up, ready to fight. A swift kick beats him back against the bulkhead, with gives off a dull boom. Slight jabs the knife up into his his side, not a millimeter from the kidney. A small twitch, and Malachi will die in a few hours. Malachi's eyes widen at the cold sensation, the smile gone.
Promise made. . . Slights eyes narrow, as his lips curve into a absolutely sadistic smile.
Promise held.
He removes the blade, his smile disappearing. Malachi collapses against the bulkhead. Slight stalks away, digging around in the weapons locker. He looks around, but nothing seems to suit him.
What would you have me do?
Slight "hears" the plea from Malachi. He turns to Malachi, for a moment pensieve. He pulls off the trenchcoat, and begins to subconciously have various chemicals and bio-agents injected into him. Unaware, he only knows he's feeling. . .
Pumped.
Malachi has dragged himself into a sitting position, clutching the near-fatal wound. Slight walks towards the airlock, if only to wait. Finally, he looks over his shoulder at the location of his coat, thinking. After a while, he speaks.
I would have you run. Get out of the business of death. Earn as honest a living as you can. Out here. . .in the Black. . .you can't remember what you were after a while. You forget why you fight every day, forget why you try, every day, to scrape the bottom of the pot for a crumb to live on.
I would have you go home. Without me. . .there is no hope for your sister. At least go home and try to be with her. You'd be surprised at how simple a dying wish can be, and how disappointing it is when someone you care about isn't there.
Let me tell you about my father. He is the most twisted man in the 'Verse. He tortured me far more then you can imagine in your greatest nightmares. But he is my father, and I would give anything to know the word love. I would trade my immortal soul to believe I was anything more than a construct. But this is not to be. Slight finally locks eyes with Malachi. And for a moment. . .even Slight seems to have a heart. Broken, but true.
And for a moment, Brink Helsing can remember why he started to live again.

EOM

A pool of blood and tears is nothing if you never mattered.

CAPNRAHN

Friday, February 11, 2005 5:09 PM

Sitting in bleary contemplation Mal still hears the conversation going on around him. His attention, but not his eyes, are on the shadowy figure sitting behind him whispering.

A audio phantom of Tracy seems to be sitting behind Mal, asking "Why? Cap'n - you always save ever'body else. but not me..." Mal knows the answer, but the usual explanation fills his mouth like ashes.

Mal grabs a fat black marker from the console drawer and ignores the whisperings. Nabbing the sports bottle of spirits he marks very carefully this legend:

FOR HIS SERVICES, JAYNE COBB IS HERBY NAMED THE PATRON SAINT OF SERENITY SHINDIG
and on the other side in large letters:
ALL HAIL SAINT JAYNE!!!

On his hip, his talkie buzzes. Fuzzily remembering that ment somebody was breaking security Mal stands and pulls upon cache of sobriety to move quietly over to the hatch.

On his way he presses the full sports bottle into Jayne's hands with a wink and a nod. He mouths silently "ANDOR PLAT SHINE", hoping Jayne would remember the excellent Platinium Moonshine that the folks on the moon of Andor made.

As he gets to the hatch he sees Rowan descend into Damon's makeshift cell. Drawing back, yet still in the deep shadows of the hatch, Mal keeps an eye down the hall.

MAL
... sounding 'normal'...
"Doc and Slight will have to sort themselves out - we got our own problems. ...to Wash... If the signal dos'na trace - we just have to wait till they call again. Now the rest of ya - GET TA RELAXIN'! We got ta be loose for t'marrow."

Mal notices when Rowan exits Damon's cell - alone. This could prove to be interesting he muses muzzly.

EOM

"I've heard more intelligent sounds coming out of a pair of corduroys" - Herbert Phillip Lovecraft from *Cast A Deadly Spell*

MANIACNUMBERONE

Wednesday, February 16, 2005 10:19 AM

Malachi's Move
Location: Leaning against a small strapping of metal.

He leans forward and tries to stand, but the pain is inextricable... so instead Malachi falls forward onto his face. With effort, he pushes himself onto his hands and knees and again looks up at Slight. "Helsing... You stab me and then tell me to run, you want me to flee from you when I already told you I didn't care what happened any more." He begins to crawl, as he speaks, towards the med cabinet embedded into the side wall. Coughing up blood, he wipes his face on his sleeve and sneers contemptuously up at Slight. "I've dealt with folks much like you before... though not quite so resilient. Did your brain go off-line for a while? I was trying to help us both. My ship is not equipped to outmaneuver or outgun the Blue Fury. With him thinking you are incapacitated, you can board his ship and kill him, or we can both do it together when he is ready for the transfer." He stops in front of the cabinet and pulls himself up to open it. Doing so roughly, the contents on the shelves spill onto the floor in disarray. "Gorram shan ya iwa itsu-na! Besides, did you already forget that our deaths our linked together as long as you remain upon this ship?"

EM

-------------------------------------------
Inara: Who's winning?
Simon: I can't really tell, they don't seem to be playing by any civilized rules that I know.
-------------------------------------------

RAVENWHYTEWING

Tuesday, February 22, 2005 9:38 PM

Slights move:

Slight sighs, still at the door. What does he think he's dealing with.

Do you know what lies beyond this airlock? A supersoldier of the Blue Sun. If I was at top form, the chances of my incapacitating him would be nil. As it is, I would say that killing him will be impossible. That is the nature of a Nemesis.
The name was given to these. . .things because that is what they are-an enemy of human life.
Across the airlock, Bolo is sitting in a meditative position. His eyes, a fierce, laser-blue, are focused on the door. next to him, a sword lies. It is decorative and ornate, not a weapon but a symbol.
They have an operative life-span of four years, at the most. No more, because they are literally superhuman. Steel grafts make breaking bones impossible, or nearly. There are sensory enhancers for ever nerve cluster, focused on making ever detail and imput immediate and totally accurate. At every joint, there are strength inducements, making them capable of tearing apart human flesh like wet cloth. Slight doesn't even know where all this information is coming-they are wraithlike memories, hollow but real. They spend twenty years training-until they are at the physical limit of their abilities. In that time, they awaken, they train through every battle simulation, are taught to despise those that would oppose them with a hate that makes your indifference nothing. Where you are cold, they burn with rage and contempt.
Slight turns to Malachi, with an inkling of compassion.
Yes, I would have you run, and bury yourself before you would face this. This is not a soldier, or some mercenary looking for a quick plat. He is the essence of death. Right now, with all the knowledge and capabilities I have, I equal one limb of his. And if he uses Blackout. . .
Slight shudders, as the breath of wind touches his shoulder. Beyond that wind, as though the source, Bolos eyes begin to darken, his frosted-blue veins being ot take the hue of the endless space beyond.

Wizards Eighth Rule: Deserve Victory

KALENVOR

Wednesday, March 23, 2005 4:42 AM

Bolo's Move

As the feirce feeling of pure inexplicable wrath floods his every vein, consumes his every thought, his mouth dries and remoistens with a salavation tasting akin to copper, driving a pining for his target's very vitae. A lingering feeling of humanity dwindles to nothingness as the image of the one he will claim consumes him. His voice ringing in his mind picking at his every nerve, drawing the blood lust deeper from him, it may take everything, and yet it may take hardly anything, but the fire of ragin destruction is never truly stopped. These words hold forever true as the Blue Sun taught them.

And in this heart of darkness
Our hope lies lost and torn
All flame like love is fleeting
When there's no hope anymore

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