Lost In the Echo
http://oi57.tinypic.com/2vkg9y0.jpg By human calendar, it is year 4057 A.D., more widely recognized as year 523 A.P. (After Pact). Galaxy is bloating with unrest as criminals are growing bolder - with not enough clean hands on the task, law is becoming harder and harder to uphold. As a desperate move to appease civilians and avoid galactic crisis, Galaxy Law Enforcement has started to hire Freelance Units. A risky move that often seems to cause more trouble than its worth, except for some exemplary albeit stranger teams. This story will be about one of these units, assembled from four individuals that are perhaps the most unlikely candidates for Law Enforcers. Already existing tight bonds are tested with newest addition to the team on its more than bumpy road towards uncovering a huge web of corruption that poses greater threat than anyone would dare to admit. Will the crew manage to accomplish this? Will the old bonds hold and new ones form? Or will their stark differences and personal motives split them up, lead them astray? Only time will tell. | Sci Fi | Crime | Action | Drama | Mystery | Humor | This is a private Role Play between Sadrain and Xavirne. There may be cussing, blood and also gore in this thread, so be warned and read at your own discretion. Starring |
Setting information Important knowledge about Galaxy will be placed here. |
Story summary Short recap of the events will be placed here. |
~[Known as: I8a Serthumon~[Hair: Coppery red tone with darker streaks, cut nearly shoulder length ~[Eyes: Slightly slanted, with large iris of strangely bright turquoise color. Long, dark eyelashes ~[Complexion: Soft brown, but not tan ~[Height: 5'4" ~[Weight: ~115 lbs ~[Posture: Excellent, she carries herself with grace ~[Scars: None visible ~[Jewelry: None that she wears on daily basis Personality~[Positive traits: All her mental qualities are on high level; she's very intelligent, well-read, thoughtful, wise and so on. In a sense, modest, usually thinking anyone else in her situation would know and accomplish the same. Honest, on the border of being brutally so. Incredibly loyal. Nearly insatiably curious and inquisitive. Perfectionist. Authoritative, without meaning to. Very focused, driven, although it's displayed subtly. Kind and caring, even gentle, in her own ways. More facts~[Negative traits: Delves into things too deep often, over-thinking things and sometimes annoying people with her relentless questions. This applies particularly strongly to all things emotion related. She does not understand them and does not take them in consideration most of the time. Therefor, her honesty can be hurtful, unless she logically decides that being truthful can backfire. Definitely a perfectionist. Although she doesn't aspire to be, she immediately comes across as rather authoritative, bossy even. Her no-nonsense attitude can make her seem stiff and annoying. Something about her calmness unnerves most people. Naive in some aspects, assuming people won't do bad if they don't have a logical reason to, but after being proven wrong about this on many accounts, is more careful. More facts~[Quirks: Takes pictures and otherwise records all things beautiful, but does not take the things themselves in most cases. Meditates a lot More factsEquipment and powers Information about sath (Reveal)Relationships with her team Nathan RoscoeNastasiya RadelleAndrow Daveth GaleronShip information (More) |
http://i63.tinypic.com/sw8qo3.jpg Androw Daveth Galeron { nicknames } Andy, Drow { gender } Male { age } Thirty-seven years old { sign } Leo; August 21st { height } 5-foot, 11-inches { race } Human of Earth { hair } Freshly dyed cyan hair (naturally grizzled raven) { eyes } Dulled gray { skin color } Pale peach skin; can't tan { brows } Slender and neatly groomed { lips } Taut and slim { jaw } Strong and square; slight feminine smoothness to it { nose } Without dumps or hooks; smooth and nicely rounded { hair style } Unkempt and shoulder length; fringe in the front { alignment } Chaotic Good/Neutral Good -- He's unorthodox and believes in freedom. { attire } Androw wears a suit wherever he goes, unless it's the weekend. On weekends he wears nice grayed jeans with white thighs and knees with his black combat boots. For a shirt, he'll wear a white shirt with a black vest. Atop his head, he'll sport his fedora or sunglasses. Weekends are his "monochrome" days. He only wears black, grays, or white. During the week, he allows himself to wear colors, usually dark colors. His suits are only gray or black in color, so his tie or shirt receive the splash of color. He tends to prefer deep blue, teal, and crimson, though he's been spotted in light purple and powder blue before. Silver sometimes makes an appearance. When wearing his suit, he wears his black dress shoes and a nice belt. He always wears a vest as, when it's hot, he'll take his suit coat off and run around in his oxford and vest. It should be noted that all his clothes are slim-fitting and very flattering on him. He would never wear something "ugly" or "sloppy." Why, even his night attire makes him look rather dashing (black robe with teal slippers)! { accessories } Dogtags. He never takes them off. A waterproof watch that's solar powered and comes with a compass/GPS and temperature option. A frayed friendship bracelet of dulled cyan and purple with the letters LJ in silver. { theme song } Nightcore - Still Worth Fighting For { personality } On the outside, I'm strong. I'm unbearable. Flawless. Inwardly I'm nothing but a coward who hides behind his false face. The facade I've created has become more than just a lie I tell myself to sleep at night. It's my medication. My drug. It's who I need to become. If I don't, I fear I'll lose myself to the bottom of the bottle. I'm not sure I can handle one more battle scar....{ powers } I am merely a mortal man, I have no supernatural powers or possessions in my nature. Yet, even at this disadvantage, I am more than capable of defending and protecting myself. I've a brain unlike any other. I'm a certified genius and I have the membership badge to prove it. Aside from my brilliance, I am also one hell of a doctor. I only treat important, worldly figures. Let me correct myself, used to treat. Upon leaving the medical field and fulfilling my obsession, I haven't touch my tools or a body.{ weapons } I'm afraid fighting isn't really my thing. No, don't assume such things. I am more than capable of murder. I have killed men point-blank and without remorse. As a hardened soldier, death does not bother me. I've come to terms with it and embrace it fully.{ miscellaneous } I should steer clear of alcohol. I am an addict. I spent a lot of time drinking my woes away to the point where I blacked out. The black outs became frequent because it was during those moments that I could see her face. This became a dangerous game. One day... I... I woke up in a hospital with tubes and monitors all around me. Someone found me blacked out and cold on the floor. They placed an emergency call. I had blood alcohol poisoning. Ever since that day, I've tried to distance myself from it. But boy it's tempting. It calls my name. I hear it whispering to me, begging me kiss my lips again. Nastasiya Radelle http://i62.tinypic.com/10erbf8.jpg Hello there, kind viewer! Allow me to introduce myself and my path to where I am today. Let's start by getting who I am out of the way. Please note that not all the information provided is of my own accord and desire. Yes, the government has added some information to this profile as, well, I'm an agent of the galaxy so it's natural that they leave notes and information. I'll do my best to make it plainly obvious that you're reading my thoughts versus those of the government. My name is Nastasiya Radelle. Odd name but it's the one I've come to know and love. But don't worry, I don't make you say the full thing out; Tasi [/U]works just fine! I'm twenty-eight years old and I'm a mechanic by choice. Yes, I'm a female engineer, deal with it! I'm damn good at what I do and I love every second of it. The grease, oil, tar -- whatever, it just adds to my beautiful complexion. No, seriously, it does. You'll see what I mean later when I get into my looks. I'm what you call a Colctivus. No, I'm not human. I'm what you humans of earth call "aliens." Large eyes? Green skin? Three fingers? No, no, no. There are more aliens out there and we're not all that simple and, dare I say it, ugly. I like to think I'm a truly beautiful creature, one of great looks and luxury. I hail from a plant that is rich with nutrients and wealth. We're a planet that harvests the medicinal herbs that prolong life and cure ailments. Our harvests are all grown within tropical forests and greenhouses. We're a species that loves humid climates and warmth. The snow is wicked and cold, something I am not. I am soft like butter and rich like cream. I guarantee you've never seen a creature like me before. So what is a Colctivus, or Colus for short? What makes us so "unique." Well, for starters, we're a humanoid species. We stand upright just like humans. We have normal human legs and feet. I can wear Levi jeans and I can wear Carhartt boots. I have the breast and chest of a human, too. Like I said, I look very similar to humans. So where do I differ? For starters, my skin. It's a different range of colors. Ever seen a tuxedo cat or an orca whale? They have two distinctive colors - a light underbelly and a dark top. Like those creatures, I too have a light underbelly (the sensitive spots on my skin - inside thighs down to the knees, inside of my arms down to my elbow, up to my jaw, and across my chest down to much crotch) and dark exterior (face, lower arms, lower legs, back, butt). Now the color depends on the exact subspecies. My colors are mauve and dark gray-blue. The color of my skin determines the color of my hair and eyes, too. Even my tongue matches my skin coloring! I have pale thistle eyes and lavender hair. And my tongue, it's twilight lavender. As a part of my species culture, we're to receive Coming of Age tattoos on our bodies. These are silver in color, for women, and gold, for men. The silver tattoos are placed according to your rank, structure, and what the Great Farseer sees. If she sees happiness in your future, you receive certain symbols in shapes. If she foresees death and war, you get something else. Me? I have a crescent moon on my forehead just above the brows and a star on my collar bone. These shapes indicate that I am a traveler, expected to see a great many things and become a source of knowledge and power for my people. My hands are completely dyed silver to indicate that I work with my hands. The marks are splattered and wavy, letting all know that I don't mind getting my hands dirty and that I am flexible, adaptable. Down my back are straight lines, two to be exact, that represent my structure and sound resolution. Around my thighs are more lines (horizontal rather than vertical this time). There are three lines on the left and one thick one on the right. These represent my firm support. I come from a wealthy, knowledgeable, loving family -- and my family grounds me and created my ground support. What else have I to share? How about my height and sizes. I'm 5-foot, 8-inches tall on the slender yet built side of the scale. I have 34C cup-size, I'm a bit busty, and I have a kickin' ass. Love thongs and sports bras. I always wear either white or black, can't stand the colors -- unless it's bright green! I wear short shorts that come up past my navel (I like to make my legs look long); they're often white in color. As for a top, I wear a cropped shirt (either black or white) that hangs off my broad shoulders and exposes my abs. Don't worry, you can't see my breasts too much -- I do wear a sport's bra to keep the girls down! Also love to wear a scarf around my neck that hangs down around my back (that's silver in color). I accessorize too; large silver bangles around the wrists and three rings on my left hand. Ears are pierced too with cuffs on the left and danglies on the right! { weapons} Weapons? I don't have weapons. I have tools. I'm a mechanic. I use wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers, saws, shovels... whatever I need to get a job done. I'm very good at turning anything into something. I'm a tinkerer, an inventor, and handywoman. I fix what's broken and if I can't fix it, I scarp and re-purpose it. I'm no idiot either. I can see the bigger picture, the future use of whatever I create. On the off chance I do have to defend myself (oh Great Farseer I pray thee see anti-violence in my future), I would probably opt for my shovel or hatchet. I'm a sloppy, melee fighter. Though I could probably creature a heat-glove, taser, gun... anything, if I wanted. |
In a world - aggregate of worlds, actually - where information is money, power and most other things a person can desire, information crimes often go hand in hand with murder. This is one of those cases. In I8a's experience, those are always the messiest and the kind best to get over with quickly. There is no guarantee the criminal will not take another life and that would be just unprofessional of them to let such a thing happen. If brass is particularly picky, they might scold her for not foreseeing this crime happening in the first place. As if she was psychic. |
"Hey-o, Izzy," a woman comes out of nowhere flashing a badge and grinning past the guards stationed at the crime scene. Not usually one to be on the field, the girl's appearance caused a few brows to furrow and curiosities to pique. Why was an engineer, a techie, on the field. Unlike I8a who had a modest air to herself, this woman, Nastasiya "Tasi" Radelle, was far from modest. Her midriff showed and her cleavage was fully visible. Not so much in the risque manner, but in a stare-worthy fashion. Low-cut jean shorts even showed off the tail ends of her rounded rear -- an ass of a woman who worked out daily. Her wedges, cute and girly, hardly seemed fitting for running, let alone entering a crime scene, and yet she wore them with style and pride.
Hand pulling through her lavender hair, the two-toned humanoid laughed. "Oi-oi," her nose turned up as it caught a whiff of death, "no one told me there was a body." Pouted lips and disheveled eyes turned from I8a and fell on Roscoe. "Yup, would have stayed on the ship had I known. The nose is not pleased with this sickly scent." With the clearing of her throat, she moved toward the terminal. Roscoe was good, but she was better. A hacker by nature, Tasi easily unlocked the terminal and authorized the machine to open the door I8a stood beside. "I presume this is why I was summoned," head falling backwards, she winked at one of the guards. "I think Ros could have handled this, but I did just save you a shit-load of time. You're welcome, Izzy!" Tasi was an odd woman. She was of the Colctivus race, a humanoid species that looks human, save for the odd colors and spiritual rituals. In Tasi's case, she's a mauve and dark gray-blue in color with pale thistle eyes and light purplish hair. Although her looks were purely Colctivus, her antics and behavior was far less Colctivus. She was naive yet blunt, and rather unprofessional around superiors. It wasn't that she disrespected them though -- no, she adores them completely -- but she's never been one to follow strict guidelines or rules. Growing up on a planet were destiny is written in the stars, Tasi always believed that rules were just guidelines rather than solid structures of law. To her, things like bosses and presidents made no sense. With age and enlightenment came power, and although I8a was brilliant, she was by no means enlightened, at least in Tasi's eyes. Sucking her teeth, Tasi tossed her rump into a nearby chair and spread her legs so the back of the chair was nestled between her thunderous thighs. "Need me to do anything else Izzy?" I8a's name, written out as Issa, was typed in a language unknown to Tasi when she first met the woman. Upon first glance, Tasi read Izzy and has since then called the woman as such. The joys of language barriers. Since then, Tasi has come leaps and bounds with I8a's tongue, but some habits just die hard. Besides, in Tasi's mind, I8a or Issa is just too bland and not girly enough; women's names needed to end in cutesy "ee" or "i" sounds. "Better hope the killer's not in there," she teased ever so lightly as she kicked the chair around the floor. "Also, Cap'n, I'm putting in a request for wheelely chairs on the ship. I gotta get me one of these!" |
Nathan doesn't have to turn around and have a look to know who just had arrived - he recognizes the bouncy step of their engineer - and his jaw tenses ever so slightly. But he isn't surprised, mentions of such things as inaccessible doors and data terminals draw the Colctivus woman like a honey pot may draw a fly. Ironically, she has the same effect on most men. Even now, eyes of guards follow her closely. He isn't entirely sure Nastasiya knows what effect she has, but guesses she has a pretty good idea. Unlike Boss, who is completely unaware of how men ogle her bosom or behind when she dresses in her regular tight, revealing outfits. |
Moaning, Tasi pushed herself up from her chair to stand back and inspect the unit before her. There was a certain bit of class to hacking, or at least that's what she would tell people. You couldn't just do anything. No, that could lead to data leaks or erasing. One needed tact and skill to properly find what was purposely hidden. It wasn't an easy task, which was why Tasi was called forth to inspect the machines. Sure, Roscue or even I8a could have done it but, as stated before, Tasi was the expert. The only reason the woman worked for the force was because they needed the best of the best.
Years ago, the team was hunting down a crooked corporation. But they had no leads. No proof. No nothing! It was impossible to touch these guys. That was until a young and bright-eyed, was Tasi appeared. She was already on their radar. She was hard to catch and even harder to find. Not to mention, she saw no harm in what she did. In her mind, she wasn't doing anything wrong. No one died and no one got hurt. Hell, she even paid for the technology in some form or another. Tasi liked to build things and she didn't like having to wait for technology to be released so she would hack into companies and read their data. Sometimes she would laugh at the findings; other times she would be impressed and build her own personal items from her findings. If anyone could reverse engineer anything, it was Tasi. Rather than waiting to be arresting her for stealing IP, the young woman walked herself to the main headquarters and turned herself in. It was a bold move, but it was the move that would forever change her life. She found something so bad that she had to share it. She didn't care if she was arrested or killed. What she found needed to be shared. During those days, it was illegal to spy on people. Technically, it still is. Regardless, a company was spying on its people and, anyone who quit, magically vanished. The agency had no proof. There were no leads. None of their hackers could break the code or get the dirt they needed. But Tasi, Tasi did. And it scared her. And what she saw was coldhearted murder. Fearing for her life, she ran to the agency. Apparently, her sense of justice was enough to wavier all her past crimes (she still refuses to believe it's a crime; just like she doesn't think pirating movies or music is bad) and land her a job with the agency. Sure, she had to work her way up to Tactical Technician and Senior Engineer, but Tasi didn't let her low-rank get her down. She did what she could and she kicked ass. In no time, she was working for the management team. And then, a few months later, she was out the door and placed on a ship that patrolled that galaxy. It was a great honor and one that Tasi adores. Besides, it's how she found her best friend, Izzy. As her eyes gazed over the machine, she bent and twisted. Every inch of the machine needed inspecting. And, as expected, the officers on scene spent a good deal of time inspecting her. There were even a few instances where Tasi's attire might have been a little too tight or revealing, but that's besides the point. When she was finally ready, the woman slipped from her wedged heels what looked like a USB Thumb drive. Slipping it into the machine, a screen instantly popped up. Purple and cheeky, it was a dead giveaway that Tasi was hacking. "Uhh, you might want to look away. I'm being a crook again," she joked before completely blocking out everything else around her. Right now and for the next 15 to 30 minutes, she would do nothing but stare at this screen. No one, not even I8a could pull her attention away. This was her time and this was her zone. Earphones on, she took her seat and let her hands grace the keyboard. Speed unlike anything anyone could ever imagine allowed her to swiftly enter codes and bypass blocks and firewalls. There was nothing that could stop her. Even the virus that should have fired the computer was no match for her. With each and every passing second, her brows knit closer together and the sweat on her brows ran down her cheeks. This, this is what she lived to this. And this, this is why she's a world-class agent. |
I8a nods, acknowledging her engineer's words, before they leave. Perhaps other unit senior agents would find hacking on this level inappropriate, but in the time they live in, Sath believes that certain fires have to be fought with fire. And, apparently, so does brass, or otherwise Tasi wouldn't be given spot in FGLEIU. (She might have had a say in that, however.) After all, they are freelancers, they are paid to do things their own special way, because regular unit can't get it done regular and all-by-the-book way. That is what she says when their methods are questioned. Usually, it's done by local Law Enforcers as higher ups don't pay attention to her unit as long as it doesn't stir up trouble. And it doesn't. |
She was so caught up in the hacking process that she lost her ears and senses to the machine. There was just too much here to do and not enough time. Between copying the data over and digging deeper, Tasi was finding all she needed -- and then some. The "and then some" was mainly for her own benefit. After all, it's hard to turn a greedy inventor into strictly a law enforcement engineer.
Easily excited and so engrossed in everything she did, Tasi was left exposed and unknowingly in harms way -- or so it would seem. With no one but the two-tone girl in the room, it became the ideal time to escape. Only, as soon as the escape become an opening, it fled. Why? Well, the screen was too interesting. Taking slow, silent steps forward, the escapee cocked his head to the side. He watched everything she did. It was impressive and if he wasn't a fast reader, he probably would have missed everything up on the screen. For a brief second, he actually pulled out his smartphone and started taking notes. Then, upon realizing what he was doing, he decided to stop. It was just too weird for him. After all, who was to say this wasn't the killer. The one who caused him to hid in that secret cabinet. The one that he was told knew about Sven Void, his arch-nemesis. How had he been so lucky to be alive? Well, that was the thing about Androw Galeron. He was just a lucky bastard. He was insanely smart and completely capable of taking after his own ass. He was quick and cunning, much like a typical criminal. Only, Androw was better. Much better. Androw was so criminal he made men like Jasie Jones and Keegan Killer look lame. Androw was a guru when it came to the body. He knew every weak point. He could literally touch someone to death. And he could do so with little to no force. Perks of being a doctor, he supposed. He was a legal assassin. Top of his class, too. Worth more money than most could shell out. But, unlike an assassin who can only kill, Androw could also bring back. He could be the kiss of death or the breath of life. Looking over his shoulder, he spied the small, dark space he crawled into. Honestly, he was surprised no one had thought to look there. But who would know to really look there. Who would know he was hiding in the mist of the murder and scene? Blinking, his face moved forward to look over Tasi again. Grimace on his face, he stepped forward so he stood just inches from her. His head moved forward, aligning with her own face. His chin ever so gently graced her shoulder, which caused her to twitch -- nothing more or anything less, either. "You should really look in the folder called 'Gilus.' He's your killer." A voice like a haughty man came from his pale, slender lips. Tasi smiled and closed her eyes happily. "Wow, that's a great idea. Tha--" it then hit her. She wasn't alone. Eyes quickly shifting, she took in a cyan mess of hair and vivid, taunting eyes. Heart racing, she kicked back from the desk and let a scream burst from her lungs. Panicking, she dug her nails into the ground and tried to put as much space between her and this man who literally came out of nowhere. The second her scream hit the air, Androw dropped to his knees and covered his ears. "Why the hell are you screaming," he tried to shout over her long-winded shrill for help. "My god," he said with grit teeth. Only, before he could speak again, the door kicked open and two (maybe more) people came in with guns drawn and tight, stern faces. "It's rude to not know. Also, I really hate surprises," he mused before rolling his eyes. He went to stand but before he was given the chance, a weight was upon him. His nose, one with the ground, ached from the sharp pain that came to it. Lips on the floor and muffling his voice, he began his berating. "Miff ma mel m--- GET OFF!" he turned his lips just enough to let clear words surface. A gun was still on him and trained to his every move. Looking up at the woman who he presumed to be in charge, Androw bore his unimpressed eyes into her. "Did you ever think that I might have been a victim AND witness to this whole shindig." He presumed there was a flicker of thought in I8a's mind regarding his words. "Well, why don't you get your cyborg off me so I can give my formal statement about how you're all incompetent assholes." Whoever this guy was, Androw, he had some nerve to not only berate them but to also go as far as to mislabel species. But who did he care, he was currently getting manhandled by another man who weighted at least twice as much as he (or so Androw presumed). At this point, it was safe to assume that Androw was peeved at the situation and wasn't too concerned about how bad it looked that he was 1) there and 2) happened to have some blood caked on the side of his face. |
I8a hasn't heard anyone, much less Tasi, scream like this for a long time, unless they were being murdered. So, although her breath and heart rate doesn't pick up, a white hot flash of something shoots down one of her mind's highways for tiniest fraction of second, something that she would have to analyze later when her engineer isn't in danger anymore. When she enters the scene, right behind Roscoe, with her gun already out, turquoise eyes immediately takes in the scene before her. The other woman seems unharmed, the scream that had clawed at Sath's ears finally dying down. |
With a feral growl seizing his lips, Androw glared at the man who dared to hoist him from the ground. It was bad enough to be mounted, but this level of man-handling was a whole other issue. A part of him wanted to do something. Remain smug and angsty until this man, Roscoe, put him down. Honestly, handcuffs would be an upgrade at this point for the angle Roscoe held him at was rather painful. Any minute now, Androw was sure he would feel a sharp pain in his side and then the onslaught of a headache. Oh the joys of knowing too much about the human system!
Just as he's about to speak, Issa takes out a device and holds it to Androw. Piqued with curiosity, he keeps his mouth zipped, hopeful to know just what the system has on record for him. Sure enough, the information comes through and it all prove him to be anything but a criminal. "Androw Daveth Galeron M.D., ex-military. Age thirty-seven. Male of the Earth species known as humans. Five-foot, eleven-inches. Suspected of murder. Victim named, Lilith Jefftron 21, girlfriend. No body found. Determined innocent by a jury of peers. Case remains unsolved and open. Currently jobless." That smug look on his face fell to a look of insult and disgust. The pride he once held to his name and species was instantly gone the second the machine read out his past. "You have no right knowing that! Those files were sealed and all charges dropped! I'm innocent!" Spitting at Roscoe, he tried to escape but found it futile so he did the only thing he could do. Break his wrists. With a quick jerk, his bones dislocated and Androw was free of Roscoe's iron grip. Although, in his freedom, he didn't move far. Instead he made a bee-line for the machine and pried it from Issa's hands, immediately after relocating his wrists. Disbelief still on his face, he gazed down his at his image. His face. His record. The malice that once controlled him fled as if it never existed. Soft, broken eyes brought an uncanny look of youth to the surprisingly older male. As his eyes looked over the text and images, he felt a lump in his throat. It had been so long since he last saw her face. Since he last saw his Lilith. Water seemed to flood his eyes and his grip on the device tightened with each passing second. There were so many tears that needed to be shed but Androw couldn't allow this ragtag team of GLE officers to see his weaker side. No, he needed to hold steadfast to his strength and re-don that mask of security. "The only reason I'm here is because this guy," he pointed to the body on the ground, "knew something about the man who killed Lilith. And I didn't kill him." Throwing the device at Issa, he turned away from the crew. Honestly, he wasn't sure Roscoe hadn't come back to attack him, but he figured the woman in charge called off her guard dog. After all, Androw was merely words and no real ill-actions. Perhaps she trusted him? No, that was a lie. His eyes saw the other agents with guns trained on him. She didn't trust him. She just didn't need to soil her hands with his existence. Clearly Roscoe didn't want to be bothered by it either, which lead Androw to believe that Roscoe had a temper that got out of hand from time to time. Why else would a guy back down from a fight? It usually meant that he didn't trust himself enough to stop. "Anyway, like I told your two-tone friend, Gilus is the killer." Looking at the screen where Tasi once sat, he smirked. "And the only reason I'm alive is because your dead guy told me about the hole in the wall. He said I could find out about the man I'm after by looking at the data in there." Hands in his pockets, he exhaled calmly. He enjoyed taking his time and drawing things out. "And don't move that unit. It's rigged to blow." |
The speaker in her phone delivers calm, even cold, mechanical voice for all in the room to hear, it matches her impassive expression as she takes in the information. The gears are already spinning in Issa's head, piecing things together. Roscoe knows that from the way she's looking at the possible suspect. It's her trademark blank gaze that seems to see right through people, disregarding their social statuses, cover-up stories and more - all that means nothing to her. (His grip tightens for tiniest fraction when 'suspected of murder' line comes up.) He can't see Androw's face from this angle, but there is such rawness and intensity in the man's voice that he hasn't expected. Apparently it's distracting enough for him to miss the tell-tale twist of Galeron's wrists right before he breaks free. Nathan should have seen this coming, the summary had stated 'ex-military' after all. |
Her petty title did nothing for him. Big whoop, he told himself. So what if she had a fancy title and could flash a shiny badge. None of that meant jack shit if she couldn't close cases and solve the mystery at hand. And right now, from where Androw stood, she hardly seemed capable. Look at how easily he escaped her tank's hands. Had he wanted to do it, he could have killed this woman without flinching. They underestimated him and that was his upper-hand, his ace in the hole.
She tried to talk him down. Everyone always tried to talk him down, or back. He'd been on this side of the law before. They wanted answers. He had none to give. Or did he? Brows knitting together, he blankly asserted himself to what happened around him. He needed to keep a keen eye on these folks. He wasn't an M.D. for nothing. He specialized in the art of humanity and life. He could detect the slightest weakness. He could taste fear. He trained for this. He trained to take out... Void. As the woman in charge, Issa, spoke, Androw rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, let's just stand around and chitchat about how I'm right. You know, you people drive me crazy. You could already be onto the next clue but no, you would rather check up on things that I've already shared. Sure, I get it. You don't trust me. Fine, don't. But don't waste my time with looking up things I lived through. Things I saw. I have a monster to catch a woman to aven-" The touchy-feely-let's-sit-on-people man spoke. That arrogant face of Androw's came back when Nathan spewed the obvious. "Duh." He shrugged before waving the crew off. "Wait, I forgot, I'm the suspect. Can't trust me. Must investigate everything and, yes, waste time." Honestly, Androw didn't care if he came across hostile. He was livid that he had been tackled to the ground. Furthermore, his back-story was flashed before everyone, even the lowly officers not of Issa's squad. It was ever-so-peachy to know the world knew his secret, the secret that was supposed to be locked away. Eyes adverting, he stared at the two-tone woman. She seemed to be snickering. Were his antics funny? Amusing? Either way, it didn't matter. Unlike these other two stiffs, she seemed more... well, human. He might be able to reason with her. Might be able to get her on his side. Unable to finish his plot to convert Nastasiya, he was pulled back into the conversation. "Bomb squad," his lips parted dramatically and gagged. Oi, talk about wasting money! No wonder intergalactic taxes were so high! These morons just wasted dollars after dollars on futile, pointless things. Sure, data was behind that wall but who needed that data when they could just follow the clues Androw so kindly laid out. Why, he might as well draw a picture of them. They were utterly daft and impossible to reason with. Getting ready to leave, he found himself unable to. Eyes narrowing, a snarl came to his lips. Were they really "escorting" him to the ship. Bullshit. More like forcefully moving him along. And dare he resist, he would likely be tased or cuffed, neither one pleasing nor warranting his energy. Obediently, reluctantly, he followed. Eyes catching first glimpse of the ship, he tried not to laugh. Stifling it just enough, it sounded like a sneeze-hiccup. Or at least that's what Nastasiya must have heard because she said "Bless you." Odd thing to hear from one not of his own species, but the notion was nice. (Speaking of Nastasiya , she did as Issa asked and left the building with the others; no point in dying sooner than necessary!) "Uh, thanks." It was good to engage her. She clearly had an interest in him and, unlike these other two, knew something about humans -- even if only minimal. And then, must to Androw's disbelief, he was booked. Trying not to let the veins in his forehead pop, he calmly took a seat in a chair and glared hostilely at the two that soon joined him. Arms placed neatly off to their sides (he wanted to show that he had nothing to hide so he kept his posture open and honest), he blinked at them. Face void and null of all expressions, he finally quipped a grin. "Wow, this is some interrogation tactic. If you're not going to ask questions, I'm going to take a nap. I've had enough boredom for one day." His smile, though devious, had something very handsome about it. Although simply human, Androw's features were far from ugly. In fact, one might even say he was in the top 10% for looks of his race. He had aged well and his sassy, cocky mannerisms were oh-so-perfect for him. "On second thought," he began, "I might talk if I can get some water." He rasped, dramatically as expected. "And a burger." His brow perked. "You do know what burgers are.... right?" Yes, it had begun. The mind games of Androw. "Okay, okay. So, let's just do a quickie rundown. You two think I'm the one behind this. I'm not, but let's just run with it. When you do decide to book me, it won't hold. I'll be able to get myself out of the hot-seat and you'll be empty handed and without a lead. Me? Heh, I'm holding more cards. I know who your killer is, I know why they silenced your now-corpse, and I know where they're going next. I know the mastermind behind it all. But hey, if you want to keep those suspicious eyes trained on me and book me, go for it. It won't help your case any. Why, I bet I would be able to solve this mystery faster than your whole crew -- and whilst in jail!" He scoffed at his own joke. "But hey, I'm a fun man. Why not make things interesting and fun. Since you clearly need me, why not bring me on board. You haven't a medic from the look of things. And, let's be honest, I could use the money. I haven't been working for three years and my reserve if running out." Sitting back in the chair, he put is feet on the table and leaned back. "Can't pay a 'criminal?' Fine, I'll take free room, board, and food. But," the chair skidding across the floor and his body flung across the table to look Issa dead in the eye. Just inches from her face, he smirked. "But I get to do what I want. I'm not of the law so I get to play with the law my own way. And if I break it, you fix it." His lips were so close that his breathe kissed her face and his cologne wafted into her air. Folding back into his chair, he wrapped his arms around the chair's top. "So, whatcha say? Have we a deal, darling?" |
Some people would take the bait of Androw's words, at least feel irritation rise in them like bile. But Issa is not your typical person and despite blue haired human's arrogant attitude, she remains calm; indifferent to anything besides getting to the truth. Nathan, too, believes that dogs may bark, but caravan moves forward. Just because this guy believes they are incompetent does not mean they truly are. Any scumbag believes that about cop-sort anyway. |
Taking note of their names and positions, Androw filed this into his records for later use. The tough guy worked for the stiff woman, interesting. This was key though for he knew who to address moving forward. Granted, he assumed it was the woman but now it was solidified with proof.
She went on about how he was taking this all wrong. Rolling his eyes behind his fringe, he couldn't help but smirk. All these agents were the same. They thought themselves dignified and perfect. In reality, they were all the same. They were arrogant pricks. To his relief, the tough guy left the room. Sadly, this absence didn't lift her mood. Was she always this up-tight? Yes, of course. She was the "Senior Agent." She clearly didn't get that rank by being friendly or a push-over. Or for showing off cleavage. "Androw is just fine," he cut in. "Galeron is my professional name. Prefer you not use it unless I'm dissecting someone or doing a make-shift sling." He paused for a second, recalling how in his past officers would still refuse to use his first name. "And if protocol forbids it, then Gale works just fine." As she hardly seemed like the type to deviate from topic at hand, he sighed before leaning back on the chair. "Gilus. He's your killer, like I mentioned earlier." Be blinked, slowly. "Let me back up and answer your other question. Back in my youth, I was set to marry the most perfect woman. She was everything to me. We were so in love, surrounded by peerless bliss. All was supposed to be magical, perfect." "But that never happened. She was ripped from me." His face lost its color and his body shifted forward over the table. Eyes focused on the table, he smirked. "Lilith Jefftron, twenty-one. It was an accident, or so the report says. It's wrong though. Sven Void and the Prophet were there. They took her from me. They ruined my life. They're still ruining it. Ever since I lost her, I've committed everything to finding Sven and the Prophet." His eyes finally looked up to meet Issa. "If you want the details of her death, you can read them. I don't want to relive that mindfuck again." Rolling back into his chair, he turned his head toward the exit. "I've been investigating Lilith's murder. Thus far, I've only found empty leads. Nothing seems to fit or work. Everything always runs dry. And then, one day, I happened upon this story that spoke of a lab and man with a dark past." "Your dead guy. I sent him a message asking to meet. It was a tedious process. Had to do some of those old-fashioned window washer ads in a penny saver to get his attention. A few ads back and forth and he gave me his location. Agreed to meet with me to talk about Gilus." Knowing she knew nothing about Gilus, he continued. "Let's just say I found a link between Gilus and Sven Void. Gilus used to a be a merchant for Void and his boys. He helped Void get his pack of mercenaries and always helped raid and loot." He went to check his pocket for his journal, but realized it was missing. "Your officer must have taken my small, black, leather notebook. It has my notes in there. Spit-balling off the top of my head, I can tell you that Gilus is the reason the SX3 went missing. You know, that fancy federal ship. Just vanished one day without warning. And then, years later, someone happened upon it. It wasn't a freak incident. It was Void." Fingers interlacing, he moved forward again. "Void's after something. His Prophet spoke of a weapon that could change it all. That federal ship... it had a beta-type tracker on it. I bet Void wanted that ship so he had Gilus lure it out of the safe space waves and into a trap." With a sigh, he looked at the woman before him. "But I've no proof of all this. Unlike you, I'm not a man of the law. All this information is from witness, some not entirely credible, and the rest is my own intuition and gut impression." With a laugh, he joked about the SX3. "Let's be honest, if the galaxy knew what happened to SX3, they wouldn't tell us. But they don't know. So there's no coverup story. There's absolutely nothing. The information I've gathered seemed plausible. But I won't know for sure until I find Gilus." "Which brings us back to the here and now. Your DB had records on Gilus. Guess Gilus had a spill-man. Someone he had to confess his sins to or somethin'. That DB was the man. He recorded everything. Pretty sure he was a psych or something. His notes were thorough. Or at least what I could get my hands on were good." He sniffled before rubbing a finder below his nose and scoffing. "Before I could really dive in and get the juicy bits, all hell broke loose. The DB said I had to tell no one of what I saw. He flashed some images before my eyes and the next thing I know, your two-tone woman is screaming in my ears." Androw waved a hand toward Issa. "Mind handing me that paper and pen? I might be able to sketch out the image I saw before he dumped the data." As he did that, he caught a glimpse of the time. Six numbers appeared in his mind. Six numbers that were oddly close to the time. Just then, Androw jumped to his feet. "Call your man back." Eyes wide, the hair on the back of his neck rose. "Call him back before he comes back in a body bag." "03:57:11." Those are the numbers I saw before I was shoved in the wall. "I also saw a mangle of other things. But none of those other things matter now." At the door, he glanced back at Issa. "Your agent only has minutes to get out before the whole place blows! Let's get a move on before you make me mock you for losing a man, further proving your an incompetent agent!" |
Issa doesn't understand the human need to share everything about them and their past in few minutes. It is especially spurred by stressful situations and the fact she has to ask a lot of questions to the witnesses and possible criminals. Yet, the amount of information humans share willingly and easily about their past and feelings, while feeling deeply offended if one makes a guess or asks why things were exactly so, is staggering and often completely useless. |
Much to his liking, the man with cyan hair witnessed Issa call back her man (even if the words were quite cryptic). Despite this distrust in her and the team, Androw simply returned to his chair while the woman left the room. There was no need to cause further ruckus, especially during dire situations such as this.
While she was away, he laced his hands together and gazed over the paper and pen she left for him. It was useless to try to escape with such primitive tools--not to mention, being in here meant not being in an explosion--so he remained put. Pen between his hands, he began to doodle ever so lightly. The face, though shaded with ink, seemed to have a crisp and clear outline. Eyes closing momentarily, Androw bit his lip to ponder a final detail. When the "ah-ha" moment came, his orbs opened and he finalized the missing detail. Pulling the image back, Androw grunted at his work. It is flawless, save for the fact that the face is a shadowy mess. So flawless that Androw tore it into pieces and pouted while tears swelled in his eyes. "Sven," he spat. A faint noise, likely the explosion, shook the ship much like a mouse shakes the floor it walks on. It's so nonexistent and yet, Androw senses it. Eyes adverted, he grimaced while looking toward the camera. Hopefully this intel was spot on and saved that miserable man's life--not to mention the rest of the retrieval crew. When the door opened and Issa returned, Androw's all ears. Leaning forward, his eyes followed the woman like a lost puppy, waiting for any word of news to roll from her lips. Sadly, he received no satisfaction. Granted, the invitation to stay with the crew boded well with him. It meant he proved his worth, or so he assumed. Before he can even utter a word or ask for more details, she's gone. Baffled at her lack of concern over him, Androw retreated into his seat and scanned the room for his drawing. Although in shreds, he craftily put each piece back together. If he had tape, he would have likely taped it together, but this was not an option at the time. Instead, he simply gazed down at it and glared. Pen in hand, he snarled before shoving the could-be weapon right into the middle of the drawing. "Let's see how well you hid your crumbs, Sven. I've an invitation I cannot refuse--one that might finally bring the closure I so rightfully deserve." With that, the cyan-haired man rose and moved from the room. Along the way, he passed a few other ship workers and asked them for directions. Naturally, they were overjoyed and extremely helpful. It made Androw wonder just how often--if at all--Issa invited a stranger to live amongst her crew. Realizing how she was likely putting her neck on the line for him, the human decided to play it low and keep out of her way. Still, the two-tone woman had information he wanted so he needed to hunt her down. Working his way around the ship, the man with the Leo personality finally found his way toward the woman. Only, along the way, he happened upon Issa and Nathan playing a very interesting version of chess. Piqued, he quizzically tilted his head back and forth, instantly realizing how to play the game. "Did you call check?" he asked rhetorically for he assumed Issa knew Nathan was nearly locked down. "Odds aren't really in your favor," he threw his voice toward Nathan, "but you could beat her if she fumbles during the next three moves." Not wanting to interrupt further, he gazed past the pair and spied the female he sought. "Miss," he brushed against the wall and moved to Tasi. "Sorry about early." Hand in his hair, he sheepishly laughed. "Sometimes I forget my manners." Hand now out of his hair, he extended it forward to meet the hand of Radelle. "Androw Gale-" "Silly, human." She giggled while drawing him into a full-on embrace, "I already looked you up. I also decided henceforth you'll be my adorable little Galey-poo." Pinching his cheek, the woman winked over toward Issa and Nathan. "WHAT?!" Hissing and pulling back, Androw blinked at the woman as if she had fifteen heads. "I refuse to be called such petty names!" "Hmmm," she scratched her chin in a human-like manner. "How about Gale-kun." "I'm not Japanese," he said out of annoyance. "But Androw is so boring! And since you're human and humanity has Japanese members amongst its species, Gale-kun is totally acceptable!" "Andy works just fine," he mused. "Nope, Gale-kun!" Jaw firm and eyes forward, she more or less forced Androw into accepting the name. With a sigh and eye role, he caved. "Fine, fine. Gale-kun it is. Still don't know you're name thou-" Again, he's cut off and interrupted by hugging. "I'm Tasi-chan!" She let out a joyous squee. "And we're going to become the best of friends; mainly because I've always wanted to meet a human!" "You're kidding," Androw mocks sarcastically. "Because humans are oh-so-special," he quipped in an even more sarcastic tone. "You have blue hair. I think you're pretty special." "I dye it." "Die?" Brows furrowed, she turned to Issa for explanation. "Why did your hair die?" "Not the die, die. That die is spelled d-i-e. D-y-e is a product used to color things such as skin, hair, or clothing. So I d-y-ed my hair this color. It's definitely not natural. It’s supposed to be black but...." He grimaced and looked away. “Yeah.” Even though the two had only just met, it was evident that the two had no qualms with one another. Funny how things turn out. Despite hating the GLE, Androw certainly enjoyed one of its members, cheeky or not, she was still an agent. "Anyway, Tasi-chan," Androw cleared his throat before stepping closer to the woman, "would you mind showing me the data you received? I've a book," his gaze scanned over to Nathan. Narrowing his lids, he glared, quickly, before turning back to Tasi-chan. "I was hoping to compare notes and see if your data matched any of mine. Might give us a clue toward our next step." Not even thinking about clearance levels, she pulled up the screen and was 100-percent ready to comply with whatever Androw requested. If she were in the wrong, Nathan or Issa would be sure to bark at her any second now! |
Androw would find that in the spare room, there were already all bags that he might have in hotel room of the planet they just departed from or other some such belonging. How and when it had been delivered would remain a mystery until he asked Issa about it. Who, in the meantime of his wanderings, had moved her chess session with Nathan to the reclining area on the lower deck, while Roscoe multi-tasked between preparing meal for the crew and continuing the match. Of course, all the conversations about the case had been left in the captain's cabin and now they played in silence. At least, until Androw arrived. |
"Oh yeah," said Tasi while turning a loose strand of hair. "Sometimes I forget he's human. I don't know why, but I always envision humans to look like Gale-kun. You know, average, freaky, opinionated. Nathan's just... hunky, muscles, reserved. Not my definition of human."
Giving Tasi a dull face, Androw snapped his head away and turned his nose to the air. "Average, freaky, opinionated. And here I thought I was special." Eyes opening, he looked at the girl who was now bashfully hiding her face. "I didn't mean it in a bad way," she began but didn't have to finish as everyone's attention turned toward the case. Not wanting to feel the heat of being wrong, she immediately pulled open the laptop and started to scroll through the info. "Anything looking familiar." Using the screen as a mirror, she checked behind her. Androw had vanished, likely getting his notebook. He wasn't gone long so she saw no need to talk to Issa about anything. Now back with the group, Androw paged into his notes and eventually stopped on one. "That, that right there," he said while Tasi scrolled. "Go back to that entry." She scrolled up and stopped. "This one?" "Yeah, that's the one," Androw flipped open his book and set it down so both females could see. "I still have no idea what those set of numbers mean, but I have them written down. I've ruled out coordinates, dates, phone numbers, a letter-number cipher. I even tried seeing if it related to chemical compounds or prescription numbers." He gazed over at Issa. "Remember, I'm a doctor so I have access to all that jazz. Even did a cadaver identification test, as well as ran social security numbers." Tasi, impressed but not convinced, ran the numbers in her databases but also came up blank. "Yup, I'm not getting anything either. Are you sure they're not just random? And completely useless?" "The fact that these same numbers have appeared again leads me to believe otherwise. I can't help but wonder if it's part of a code. Like location-time-person. The problem is, I don't know the order and I could spend the rest of my life trying to decipher these numbers." He let out a sign before taking a seat on the arm of the chair Tasi sat in. "Keep scrolling. Maybe something else will get a cross-reference." There were a few times Issa and Androw went at it, over who got the intel first, but ultimately they seemed to agree that the same notes were worth flagging. Tasi printed them off and Androw eventually moved to tack them to the case board he decided to make. "Okay," he said while putting the back-end of a marker in his mouth, "we know we've had Void sitings on these planets." He circled about seven planets. "And we know there are some bodies involved." He tacked up the pictures and related notes. "Personally, I'm interested in heading here," he tapped on a bluish looking planet. "Those numbers were found here, as well as an unidentifiable body. I also have a broker in this area that claims he can get me some info. Since I've never had clearance to go here, I could never visit. But," he turned around with marker back in his mouth, "mow mat mi'm miff moo muys, mi man minmestmimate mit." "Oh really," Tasi laughed. "You can 'minmestmimate' it?" "Mut mup," he said before capping the marker. "So whaddya say, SA Serthumon?" |
"A physical case board is rather outdated method," Issa comments, but from her tone it's impossible to tell if she likes or dislikes the idea. She's probably neutral on it, until she outweighs all the up and downsides of it, rarely taking side of anything until she's absolutely sure. In all honesty, the strange woman is more preoccupied with the numbers that Androw had brought up. They most definitely were a code and there was something, faintly itching, inside her, urging sath to crack it, despite the impossible odds. |
"Androw's been a great help," Tasi began with a grin. "He stayed up rather late with me to go over this data. I know we don't need a medic on-board, but his knowledge of bodies is something I'll grow to miss, should he not become a permanent member of this team."
She swung her data-pad around and pointed to a few little dots on the body. "Apparently these are treatment points. Androw deduced that our John Doe suffered from Cordanervectum. It's a less than common ailment that shuts down the heart by killing off the nervous system." Androw, without a bat of eye, picked up where Tasi began to struggle. "About 15-percent of the population have this disease. And of those 15-percent, only 8-percent can afford the treatment for it. It's a series of injections over the course of a lifetime. The needles uses as so small that the eye cannot tell it from a freckle. Our John Doe had plenty of freckles on his upper arms and shoulders, but nowhere else." He readjusted how he sat in his chair. Swinging it around, he sat on it backwards so that his legs were sprawled out to either side of the back. "I pulled up my database. Tasi wrote an algorithm that will check our notes to the notes of the people being treated." She two-tone woman flashed a smile. "See, I told you he was brilliant. And the best part? I don't need to get permission to access that database. Andy here can just access it without restraint. Suppose that's a perk of being a top-notch doc." Her arms slid beneath her breasts. "Personally, I would love to see how extensive his knowledge of the body is. You know, first hand." The way she battered her lashes and pursed her lips seemed to caused Androw to smirk. "Helps that he's good on the eyes, too," she cooed. "Anyway, 8-percent of 20-percent is no small number. We made the algorithm thorough. It'll probably be a few days before we get a hit. I can pull dental records when it looks like we've got something just to match the bite." "I'm already runni," Tasi cut herself off. Androw was right. She was scanning millions upon millions of people. His list would be smaller, quicker, and more accurate. "Good idea. No need to waste bandwidth." She vanished and returned moments later. "And I'm doing well, thank you. I've had many years to perfect the art of going to sleep." His gaze shifted to Tasi for a second. "Perhaps I'll show you someday," he smirked. Other than his flirty remarks with Tasi, he paid Issa's attire little to no attention. Yes, she was beautiful, as was Tasi. But Androw wasn't looking for anything deep and right now Tasi was the only one that seemed interested in a fun, little fling. "What's the protocol for me going on these missions?" He hitched a brow up as he sipped from his tea. "Is specific attire required?" He put the mug down. "If you don't think there's a threat, I would rather wear civilian clothes. Less threatening, more welcoming. I can get closer to the people and psychoanalyze them. Determine if they know more than they claim. A vest, gun, and badge will only make them harder to read. If they don't see me as a threat, they'll be inclined to tell me more." Then came the devious smirk. "And besides, I don't look like you're typical pretty-boy cop like Roscoe. I'm better suited with oxfords and skinny jeans." |
Senior agent takes in all the new information as the crew eats. Her manners are those of old nobles, she never speaks with food in her mouth, the way she holds table utensils is elegant and if she ever spilled a drink or dropped bit of food, it would mean she's deadly ill. "Excellent job," she praises the pair and it seems as genuine as it gets from the sath, "let me know as soon as you have identified the man." |
"Hmmm," the multi-colored woman placed a hand on her hips. "I would actually like to leave the ship but not come with. I have some friends on the planet that might be able to help us out. And," she bit her lip, "if I bring you two," she gestures to Issa and Nathan, "they won't help. Let's just say they..." her eyes divert.
"Operate outside the law." Androw finished. He assumed that was the direction the woman was going and, as she nervously nodded, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine. So long as you don't get roped into their mishaps, I don't see any harm in having shady friends." As Tasi kept her frown in tow, the human smirked and playfully elbowed her. "Hey now, I'm one of those shady people. We're not all that bad." Her grin returned, as did her perky attitude. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... these are some good friends." That sad face returns--clearly whatever these people did were enough to truly bother her to the core. "We can't all walk a righteous path. Take it from someone who's lost everything. The line between black and white doesn't exist for people like us. We don't know right from wrong, black from white. We live in a world of gray." There conversation would have continued but Galerow got a call on his device which he used to excuse himself from the room. "I like him," Tasi said with a smile. "If he pans out to be useful, we might need to think about bringing him on-board full-time." She smirked. "Of course, that's if he can pass the tests." She shot a wink at Nathan, though it's meaning was lost. ----- When they arrived, Tasi was first to leave the ship. "I'll keep you on the comm. If I run into issues, I'll be sure to send out my SOS. But I don't think I'll have troubles. When I'm done, I'll come back to the ship." And just like that, she ran off into the crowd. Androw, shaking his head, turned to Nathan. "She's an interesting one." Straightening his posture, his flicked his eyes to the man beside him. "And," he growled, "I owe you an apology." Sizing the man up, Androw nodded his head lightly, reaffirming his actions. "I should have been less defensive during your questioning and securing. I know it's not a valid excuse, but after all these years, I just can't separate that day from today. No matter who the hands belong to, it'll always bring back the night I lost her." He paused and stared blankly out into the crowd before them. "I panicked and lost it. And I'm sorry. It... it won't happen again." Not uttering another word, Androw stepped off the platform and down onto the docks. The place was surprisingly packed. The stench was godawful too. The smell of caked on sweat lingered in the air, as did the weathered scent of musk and mold. It smelled like a slum and, from the looks, it was one. The faces and attire of those out on this dock were tattered and wore. They looked as if this was their only means of life. That waiting for ships gave them hope. Too bad that wasn't the case. They had no mission, no job. These people were scurrying around for nothing. And then it all stopped. As he walked further down the dock he began to feel eyes fall on him. It was unnerving. Why were all these... "It's... it's you." A woman pulled from the crowd. "You've... you've come." Androw's eyes darted to the manged boy beside her. His eyes were dry and losing their color. The way his skin was falling off him and the brittle look of his hair were dead giveaways to a rather wicked diseases. His lips, crackled and bleeding. His nose, torn and black. Everything... everything about him was horrific, like something straight out of a horror movie. "A blood transfusion," he muttered. It was the only way to save the boy's life, assuming it wasn't too late. "My father and my son are the same blood type," she began. A grimaced crossed Androw's face as Nathan and Issa now stood nearby. "The boy's dying. On his last leg. I received a message a few months back from a woman on this planet requesting aid. However," he turned his back to the woman and looked Issa in the eye, "if I do what she asks, I lose my license to practice. It is illegal on this planet to commit assisted suicide." To bring Nathan up to speed (and perhaps Issa), he continued. "The grandfather would ultimately die. I would need to drain all his blood and take his heart out and put it in the boy. The boy, assuming his body can handle it, would have a 70-30 chance of living. It's usually higher, closer to 95-5, but the level of decay is unnerving in this case. There's no guarantee he'd make it a year, even if I helped." Androw ran a hand through his hair. "It's your call, though. I'm here to assist you--not to perform illegal, pro-bono work." A frown marred his face. He hated to put this kind of responsibility on Issa but as far as he was concerned, Issa was his boss until otherwise stated. |
All times are GMT. The time now is 02:28 AM. |