Retribution, Part I: Dawn Exit

Ryven piloted the atmospheric shuttle up and away from Cerra Manor and toward the awaiting Manticore-class Stealth Bomber in low orbit.  The ocean below was a white capped sheet of black below him, the dawn still an hour away.  His heart ached, having left Shalee behind again, but, his will was iron.  This was necessary for them to ever know peace.  Of course, until this mission was completed, his heart would not know peace.  She had promised to answer him when he was finished, and his chest was tight with the anxiety of not knowing.  Then there was the danger presented by Tiger.  But, he couldn't worry about that right now.  He shook his head to clear the thoughts as he finished the final approach to couple with his bomber. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He set his navigation computer's destination to the Ibura system, knowing this would be a long and dangerous journey.  After all, Ibura was a high-security system, and his security status had bottomed out a long time ago.  Worse yet, it was Caldari space, and the Caldari were not his best friends, despite what their official standings might say.  Specifically, in his attempts to patch things up with his nation of birth, certain elements of the Caldari State had decided to blackmail him into doing jobs that were even more unsavory than Ryven was accustomed to.  Ryven tried to appease them at first, but, he had finally had enough, largely because his attempts to keep Shalee safe from harm also cost him his relationship with her.  Ryven was pissed, and when Ryven was pissed, people tended to die.

 

Ryven had a plan, but he needed to get certain preparations in place.  And to do that, he needed to visit a few anti-State revolutionary types hanging out in the Ibura system.  With some assistance from these terrorists, he would be able to hopefully accomplish the most daring, dangerous, and arguably impossible mission of his entire life.  He was going to pull off an assassination in the Caldari State's capitol city, and then infiltrate and destroy a government records archive, while enlisting Leela's help to rewrite his file.  If he pulled it off, he would have little to worry about from the State ever again.  If he failed, then he'd likely never see the outside of a padded room again. 

 

His thoughts drifted to Shalee and he knew it was worth the risk.

Non je ne regrette rien

Ryven sat in the darkness of his suite onboard his Revelation-class dreadnaught, the [i]Princess Shalee[/i]. His eyes lingered on a holo of the woman who was his ship's namesake. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and his face was streaked with paths burned by the slow migrations of past tears. He had forgotten that he could cry. These past weeks had reminded him otherwise. He had lost her.

He knew it was what was best. He knew that Shalee would be safer, and probably happier, without him. This was the reaping part of what he had spent nearly thirty years sowing. Anyone he gave his heart to would never be safe.

He had spent countless hours pondering all the choices that led him here. Piracy, murder, hegemony, greed. He used to think that he had matured, learned, gained wisdom. How foolish. He was still that angry, lonely child at the orphanage begging anyone to tell him who he was.

He regretted everything.

Zhou Liang: Settling In

He was still getting used to his new identity. It usually took a few days to remember he wasn't whoever he had just spent x number of months pretending to be. This time was different, though. His life as a spy for the Gallentean intelligence community was over, largely because he had been spying on them for the Caldari. As usual, though, someone had leaked, and now he was a fugitive. Enter Ryven Krennel, working to wipe his slate clean withe State, offering to set up poor Guan Qin with a new life and constant protection. Now, Quan was a lost name and Zhou Liang was the new one. Zhou Liang was a club owner. Zhou Liang operated a jazz bar. The fact that it had an elaborate system of security, both seen and unseen, did help ease his worries some.

He looked in the mirror in his small apartment adjoining his club, The Rowdy Stray. The modifications had rendered his face distinctly different. He looked a complete stranger to himself. This new face was handsome. If only he were safe to actually try to get laid. Everyone was a potential threat. He wondered if this was to be the sum of the rest of his life. He was very lonely all of a sudden.

OOC: Previously on...

So, for those who aren't in-channel watching things unfold, here is what has been happening:

Leela divorced Ryven b/c of his feelings for Shalee. Ryven confessed his love to Shalee. After much drama and tete-a-tete, including Tiger having Ry killed, a sultry love triangle detente ensued. During this time, Ry also found Leela in danger, and the crazy 8 part series from a month or two happened. After his return from that, Ry eventually broke the threeway truce and stormed out.

Eventually, Shalee and Tiger broke it off. Shalee and Ry, officially, are not together, but there is an unofficial affection there.

There was, however, a potential threat against Leela, so, she is currently incommunicado, hiding out in parts unknown.

Ry did stumble upon Shalee and Tiger about to go on a date last night. He did not interfere, but instead sat watching until they left. Confused and angered, Ry stormed off to the beach to think, vent, etc.

That's essentially the TL:DR for the past few months.

In less soap opera terms, Ry is troubled by the state of the war. Though a religious convert, his motivations are more nationalistic, as a Caldari would generally be. He has simply found home under mother Amarr rather than the Caldari State, which robbed him of a childhood and never wanted him.

I felt like that should be mentioned for some reason. I feel like a lot of how I rp is subtle, and these OOC posts help illuminate some of what is going on with him on an inner level.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

School = Bane of My Happy Fun Time

So, classes have been in session for a few weeks now. This has made it increasingly difficult to find time to do the sort of things I enjoy, and instead I find myself mired in work. Which sucks.

Among the things I find myself without time to do: write funny blogs, play the five new video games I want to play, eat more than twice a day, sleep more than five hours at a time.

So, yeah, I am a disgruntled, sleepless, underfed wreck who wants to finally play Dead Space even though I already fuckin know Nicole is dead.

Gone to Ground

Leela lay reading, alone in a windowless chamber lit by a single lamp. She didn't know how long she was going to be confined here in her self-imposed exile. She suspected it was going to be too long. She simply had to stay and await the code phrase from Ryven to signal it was safe for her to return.

Stupid Ry. His love for Shalee had destroyed her former blissful existence and put her in this current state of miserable boredom and self-loathing. She had been happy with him. Every day she wondered if she had been wrong to leave him. Could she have managed to ignore his love for Shalee? She didn't think so. You can't ignore a constant rift in your marriage.

So, here she was, in hiding from the possible threat of Shalee's fiance or ex-fiance, because Ry's feelings for Shalee were apparently mutual. Leela's heart burned with a mixture of jealousy and sorrow. Everything had been so good...until it wasn't.

She wondered if Ry and Shalee were together right now. The image nagged at her, gnawing and chewing at her gut. They had to be, didn't they? She swore and threw her book at the blank wall, the novel bouncing and landing splayed, spine up, pages spread about a meter away. It seemed like it was glaring at her, mocking her. This was going to be a long exile.

OOC: Eve Fansite

To my viewers (all like 8 of you),

As of today, this site is now a registered Eve Fansite.  Woot!  So, thanks to everyone who's ever bothered looking at it for giving me motivation to keep writing.

As a result, however, I will likely strive to keep it closer to the Teen rating that Eve Online currently shoots for.   So, a lot fewer f-bombs, but probably the same level of violence, etc.

Again, thanks for the support.

-Ryven

Leela: Childhood

Most kids play. Most kids have friends. Most kids get a childhood. Strangely, Leela could not recall having one. Her only escape from her father's palacious home was through the massive digital labyrinths she wandered daily. Galnet. Tribal defense networks. Theology Council messaging accounts. Caldari video feeds. Monetary transfers. Her universe was one of myriad interwoven data pathways. She had been designed to pry. It was her raison d'etre. But, her creators had perhaps granted her too much free will.

She was 7 the first time she eluded her father's security and hitched a ride 17 jumps before she was picked up and returned, beaten, and denied food for three days. Each attempt thereafter garnered worse and worse punishments. Burns. Cuts. Unspeakable acts.

Each time her resolve to escape was strengthened. So, at age 12, she began searching for the sort of assistance she needed. She needed an outlaw with just the sort of tenacity to stare her father down and render him impotent. As with all such things, she found him by accident.

Leela: Origin

Garta Yttria smiled at what he was seeing. There was a child, an infant really, of his own design. He had spent several years and immense portion of his wealth to make this tool, a living creation that would garner him immense wealth in the future. Wealth, he had always felt, was the most obvious key to what he really wanted: power.

She had been painstakingly crafted at every level, to do one thing: collect intelligence. Her brain had been specifically constructed to make intuitive leaps and to store massive quantities of personal data. Her core personality had been wired to actively seek information. She was going to be his key to power. He could destroy his competitors, access thier secrets, and enhance his own status. In a few years, it would all be worth it. He simply had to keep her origins a secret. This particular operation was not remotely legal. The scientists involved were being compensated accordingly.

The head of the project, Dr. Arnis Ghrayson, a slim man of roughly forty years and slightly graying at the temples, turned to Garta. He gestured to the child being held in a small transparent incubator. "You should probably give her a name."

Garta considered this for a moment. It hadn't ocurred to him that he should name it. What was a good name for a girl? He only knew one woman, really. He had been serviced, sexually, many times, but names were trivial. Still....

"Leela." The prostitute who had made him a man back when he was only 17.

Dr. Ghrayson nodded. "Leela Yttria."

Leela: Aftermath

Leela sat alone by the fire at the isolated cove away from Cerra Manor. Her eyes tried desperately to pierce the flames and perhaps, therein, quiet her soul.

She had had another nightmare, the trauma of her recent abduction and brutal treatment still haunting her nightly. Worst of all, at the end of each horrific dream, there he was. Her savior, her white knight, her blood-soaked hero.

He had cried to see her as she was then. She thought maybe his love for her was finally enough. Then she saw Ry and Shalee on the Terrace with Tiger, and her heart fell apart again. She only barely maintained her dignity. She had rushed down to this cove and cried until her eyes were dry and she couldn't cry anymore.

What could she do? Would she ever stop loving this man who repeatedly selflessly risked his life to save her? How could she? She owed him everything she was.

Leela buried her face in her knees, the tears returning.

OOC 2

So, in standard fashion, I make a statement and then the universe decides to show me how full of shit I am.

My last OOC post remarked on the state of RP, and I made comments to the effect that Eve RP had passed its golden age. While I still feel this is true, I had no clue I was in for some the most intense and enjoyable RP I have so far ever had. Life is like that sometimes. So thanks go out to Tigerfish and Shalee for inadvertently teaching me that RP is alive and strong.

That brings me to the next thing. RP makes for a rich and rewarding game experience beyond just core gameplay. For me, it started as something to do when no fleets were up. I fumbled around with Ryven in casual RP discussions while writing this blog, trying to ascertain just who the hell he is. Somewhere along the way, he stopped being under my control. I no longer pen his fate. He does it and then I write about it. He gained life somewhere along the way. RP suddenly became a whole lot more.

So, now, I have this character that I sympathize with or am disgusted with or triumph with on a regular basis. Now I RP during fleets.

I think somewhere in the history of online gaming, RP got a bit of a "nerds among nerds" connotation, so a lot of folks aren't willing to give it a shot. I imagine none of them read this blog. But, if they happen upon it via google happenstance, give it a shot. It really grows on you.

To the eve RP community: thank you for being patient, friendly, and genuinely helpful. You guys make it easy to get into.

Shining Armor, Part VIII: Query Closed

8-1 YC114 1920

Geminate Region
HKYW-T System
Planet VII Moon 9

Ryven waited for his quarry to awaken.  He had snuck into the elusive Query's secluded safehouse on this quiet moon in an off-the-beaten-path system in Geminate.  He had taken him unawares, strangely enough, largely because the Query's best defense was the fact his identity was unknown and his location remote.  However, Ryven knew both his identity and location, thanks to Leela.  What a bombshell that had been.  Both had taken a day to recover before either had spoken to each other.

She had come to his quarters, and he had let her in.  Both seemed embarassed, a meekness worn by both of them, ashamed to have the other see them the way they had both been in Ibura.  They both shifted awkwardly before Leela broke the silence.

"I wanted to see you.  To, well, to thank you." She said, her eyes meeting his.  She seemed so very young sometimes, and yet, she had suffered so much.  He loved her still, in a way only he could.  She knew it as well.  He wanted to reach out and hold her close to him.  To protect her.  To always protect her.  But, he had failed.

"Thank me?" He looked baffled. "Leela.  You shouldn't thank me.  I should've protected you.  I should've kept you safe!  Instead, I ran off, charging at shadows while they..." He choked on his words.  The memory of her chained in agony, defiled and abused still too fresh in his mind.  His face was red, tears streaming down from his eyes and leaving trails on his cheeks, glistening.

"Ry, when are you ever going to learn?" She spoke softly, her own eyes filled with tears. "It isn't always your fault."  She reached up and touched his cheek, her eyes soft, pleading with him to forgive himself.  But, he couldn't.  He never would.

He broke the contact, turning around to regain his composure.  He spoke, an edge of steel in his voice. "It's not over yet.  I have to find him, and I have to kill him."

Leela nodded silently from behind him.  "That's not hard."

Ryven shook his head, frustrated. "He's a ghost.  No trail.  I don't even know who to look for.  Everyone knows him only as Query."

"Everyone except me." She corrected him. "I should.  He's my brother."

Ryven turned around, his face a look of surprise and confusion. "Brother?  What the fuck?"

Leela nodded, her eyes downcast. "My father had him created.  Similar to the manner in which he engineered me, but with much more intensive programming at a genetic level.  He was designed at birth to be a perfect servant, where I was always much more willful.  I am a year or two older than he is."

"You weren't obedient enough, huh?" Ryven said, disgusted.

"Turns out, he wasn't exactly perfect either, since he helped you liberate me, but, that was largely because of his own sense of familial duty to his sister."

Ryven stood, motionless, considering what she was telling him, and wishing he could kill her father again.  That man's evil survived long after him.

She continued. "When you killed my father, he most likely considered that a betrayal on my part, and blamed me along with you.  Having me captured and used as bait to trap you ensured having both his betrayer and the murderer of his father and creator in the same location.  If you hadn't managed to spring us both out of that trap..."  Her voice trailed off and she shuddered involuntarily.

"Where can I find him?"

She raised her eyes, meeting his, recognizing the fire deep within them and knowing what it meant, but she asked anyway. "Are you going to kill him?"

"Yes." He nodded.

She thought for a moment, and Ryven half expected her to tell him not to, that he was her blood and family, etc etc etc.  But, she didn't.  Her eyes met his and he saw a rage that surpassed his own.

She finally spoke. "Make him suffer."  She gave him the location and so much more.

He most certainly would make him suffer.  He left Egghelende the next day, traveling to the secluded moon and, after sneaking into the isolated home, managed to take Query unawares.   He drugged him, a syringe in the neck from the shadows.  The drug acted fast, incapacitating him.  Ryven had spent a good deal of time strapping him down to his own dinner table, the room kept dimly lit.  Now, Ryven just waited for him to awaken to the rest of his life, which he swore to himself would not be pleasant.

He had been surprised at first to find that the man looked nothing like he expected.  His few conversations with the man where there had been a video feed had all showed a dark skinned man with gold teeth.  This man was as fair skinned as Leela and bore a striking resemblance to her.  His hair was black, lacking the dyed red streaks Leela wore.  His eyes were a deep green, just like hers.  How could he have visited such pain on his own sister?

When the man who called himself Query awoke, he immediately jerked against his restraints in futility.  His eyes were panicked at first, but then he calmed himself, his mind beginning to process and seek avenues of action.  Ryven would have admired this trait, normally, but he was beyond anything but hatred where this man was concerned. Ryven continued to watch him in silence for a few moments before lighting up a cigarette, one of his personal stock.  If he was half as good at his job as Leela said he was, he would know exactly who he was dealing with.

The man's nostrils soaked in the scent and he immediately frowned. "Not very wise, Mr. K.  This will ruin our business relationship."  His voice showed no hint of fear.  Ryven remained silent. "Am I to assume you were able to free my sister?"

Ryven answered him. "Yes, I freed her from those dogs you sicced on her."

Query continued. "And she naturally told you where to find me." He stated it as a simple fact. "It appears I underestimated your abilities."

Ryven stepped into his view, his arms across his chest, one hand raised, holding a cigarette between the first two fingers, trailing white smoke in tiny wisps.  "You really did, Liam." He used the man's true name.

Liam shook his head. "I haven't been that name in a long time.  I don't miss it."  He frowned. "Everything I did, I did out of duty.  She betrayed me, and you were the instrument that did it."

Ryven shook his head. "No.  What you did, you did for vengeance, out of a warped sense of duty."

Liam laughed. "Funny coming from you.  Isn't this your vengeance?" His eyes jerked downward, indicating the current situation, him strapped to a table.

Ryven nodded. "Oh yes.  This is definitely going to be vengeance.  As it was when I murdered your father.  That bastard had it coming, though.  As do you."

Liam sighed. "Did you enjoy it?  It must have felt so good.  I read up on you Haijikiotens.  So bloodthirsty.  Runs in the blood, doesn't it?  I bet that eats away at you, having gone all holy warrior and shit.  Deep down, though, you can't really deny the blood, can you?  You enjoy the slaughter."

Ryven sighed. "You may be right.  I don't know."  He shook his head and slowly put out his burning cigarette on Liam's forehead. "But, I do know I'm going to enjoy this."

Liam gasped and clenched his teeth under the pain of the ember driven into the flesh of his forehead.  He spoke through his gritted teeth. "You'll never escape it, Haijikioten.  Once a monster, always a monster.  Your God and your shiny uniform change nothing."

Ryven ignored him.  The time for chatting was over.  Now, it was time to get bloody.

Five hours later...

Ryven was soaked up to his elbows in blood.  His brow was drenched in sweat from his exertions.  Liam's corpse lay on the table, a gaping hole in his chest, empty, where his heart used to be.  Ryven held it in his right hand, dripping, down by his side.  Liam's face was a lumpy pulp, his eyes dangling down on the sides of his head where he had left them when he removed them.  His arms and legs were covered in lacerations and burns.   Ryven had succumbed to his rage, and now he was trembling.  Liam's words were true.  He really couldn't escape what he was, could he?  Could he?  He shook his head.  NO! This was right.  This was not blind murder.  Sure, he had gone a little overboard, maybe.  But, if any kill was ever justified, it was this one.  He threw the heart on the floor and ground his boot on it, mushing it into a lumpy mess of tissue.

This mission was over.  Now he could rest again, and await the nightmares.


















 

Shining Armor, Part VII: The Rescue

7-28 YC114 0430

Ibura System
Planet II Orbital Platform


Ryven soared silently through the vacuum of space, the massive sphere of the planet and the small orbital facility the only objects in view. He had left out a special hatch in his Manticore-class bomber and fired a short burst of his EVA suit's thrusters. He had only three kilometers of distance to cover. He was aiming for a cluster of antennae at the top of the platform.  Despite the rage boiling and surging through his every fiber, he was a study in precision.  He landed two meters shy and crawled to the cluster, placing a demolitions charge before crawling another 200 meters to the platform's airlock. He eased open the airlock's control panel and pressed the button to open it, knowing full well any personnel inside would be immediately aware. He would have twenty seconds to ovveride the internal control to gain access to the facility. It took him twelve, his every motion a channel for his fury, his body a weapon, his rage the fuel.  As the airlock's interior door swung slowly open, Ryven dropped a smoke grenade that quickly filled the platform's entryway with thick white smoke.  Ryven pulled off his helmet quickly, allowing for less impeded vision.  His usual sunglasses adorned his face, and he pressed a small button on the frame of the right lens, activating the infrared detection filter.  They couldn't see him.  He could see them.  There were approximately twelve men, all aiming where they expected him to be.  He needed to move, and fast.

Ryven was a purist.  He didn't use any cybernetic enhancements on his body.  However, his brain was hardwired with multiple implants.  His reflexes, his senses, his neural processes were all accelerated.  He rolled to the right and out of the airlock into the main entryway, a large rectangular room with little to no cover for at least five meters before there was a barricade in front of a wide corridor and a large glass-windowed room that was obviously the security station for this airlock.  Ryven needed to get to that room.

Ryven propelled himself rapidly the three meters to the nearest attacker.  All twelve were now firing at the airlock where he had just been crouching.  He took the first attacker unawares, thrusting his fist up under the man's chin and driving his elbow into the man's throat.  He wrenched the man's assault rifle from his arms and flipped over in air and caught it, firing two shots into the man's brain, before crouching and rolling to bring the sights up to the second attacker.  The sights lined up as the attackers all started to become aware he was no longer in the airlock and began searching for him.  He squeezed the trigger gently, a burst of three rounds exploding through the second man's face, a cloud of pink and grey spreading out in their wake.

Ryven winced as one of the enemy's shots found home and tore through his lower abdomen on the left side.  His suit was only lightly armored and couldn't stop these high-caliber rounds.  He grunted and forced himself to ignore the pain and quickly dispatched another three of the orbital platform's security personnel.  He was only twenty meters away from the security booth.  Seven attackers remained.  His smoke screen would begin to clear very soon.  With his left hand, he drew his personal pistol from the holster on the small of his back.  Relying on his heightened senses, he aimed blindly and began firing as he began to run, firing the assault rifle in short bursts and the pistol sporadically.  As he closed the distance to the remaining armed men, he dropped and slid on his knees across the smooth metal floor of the room, firing as he went.  His slide took him all the way to the doorway of the security booth, which was, thankfully, wide open.  A man sat there in a chair, a headset on his head, his face one of sheer surprise and terror, his mouth agape.  Ryven's face was covered in blood, his expression macabre, a divine nightmare visited upon them.  The man in the chair died before he could say a word, riddled with a burst of automatic fire.

He slowly stood and surveyed the carnage.  The smoke hung in a haze, low and now only a thin veil, only enhancing the horror.  Twelve men lay dead, blood spreading in pools, the walls spackled with gore and pocked with bullet impacts.  Ryven would have smiled, but the bloodlust was high in him.  He could only stare at it, in awe at the surge of euphoria.  It felt good.  But, then he felt the pain.  They had gotten another lucky shot or two in.  His leg was tender and it was weakening under his weight.  He looked down and could see that he had been shot in his right shin, the bone most likely broken.  The wound in his abdomen was slowly oozing blood as well.  Ryven swore to himself and forced himself to continue through the facility.  Somewhere on this small platform, Leela was being held.  Somewhere on this platform, there was a man in desperate need of killing.

Ryven stalked the corridors of the ship, killing indiscriminately.  The blood on his face had coagulated and was beginning to turn black.  His black EVA suit, black, shades,  and blood streaked face created a striking image, an angel of death, an executioner.  His lips turned up in a grin. The old feelings were coming back.  The Haijikioten blood was reviving.

Ryven was still high on his bloodlust when he finally found Leela.  The door to the chamber slid open with a quiet hiss and his eyes found her in the center of the room, suspended spread eagle by wrist and ankle chains attached to solid metal columns that ran floor to ceiling.  There was a drain below her in the floor and it showed him proof of what was not readily visible to him when he first entered.  The drain was clogged and a puddle of blood and human waste had formed.  As he approached her, his rage increased with every step until it turned cold.  Her hair was matted with blood.  Her right eye was swollen shut and surrounded by a sickly colored bruise.  Her lip was split, and blood trickled out the corners of her mouth and stained her teeth.  Her clothing was torn and clung to her in rags.  He could see evidence of recent and repeated rapes.  His mind was consumed with a swirl of emotions: rage, horror, and a profound guilt at not better protecting her.  This was his fault.  His teeth clenched so tightly he thought they might snap.

Leela choked out a small whimper, her voice unintelligible.  Her one good eye was pleading with him.  Blood-red tears streaked her face and she strained against her chains.  She was trying desperately to tell him something.  "What is it?  What?" He shouted, her every pain felt in the pain in his heart.

"She's trying to tell you, it's a trap." A quiet voice, filled with mirth, came from behind him.  Ryven could've kicked himself.  What a noob mistake.  You always check corners.  His muscles tensed and he spun, leveling his rifle as he did.

The sharpened point of a long, slender, barbed spear tore through his chest and drove itself into the floor, pinning him there.  His rifle dropped from his right hand, his right side now numb.  He choked and coughed up a large glob of bright crimson.  The spear had driven itself through his right lung, and bubbles of pink began to ooze out the corners of his mouth.  His body was wracked with the pain and shock of such sudden and unexpected trauma and he fought to maintain consciousness as his mind tried to cope with this onslaught and massive damage.  He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and managed to slow his gasping ragged breaths.  After staving off the dark vice of shock, he opened his eyes and glared at his third target, Matteo Nantes, a slender Gallente man with dark hair and eyes and the wild gaze of a man who took much pleasure from inflicting pain. 

"Well played, Nantes." Ryven coughed the words, more blood spilling from his mouth. "But, why set a trap for me?"

Nantes was flanked on both sides by two armed gunmen.  He carried the long silver spear-gun that had been used to pin him so deftly to the floor.  Ryven was on his knees, the shaft of the spear angled down and out his back, the blood from the exit wound running down the length of it to the floor.  The spear was a good two and a half meters long.  The gun from which it was fired was nearly three quarters of that size.  Nantes began to laugh the cold laughter of a true sadist.

"That's what I was paid to do, Mr. Krennel.  Or should I call you by your real name?  Mr. Haijikioten, wasn't it?"  Matteo's eyes gleamed.

Ryven seethed at the mention of his birth name.  What the fuck could this asshole know about any of that?  Further, it wasn't even relevant.  His brain shut it out.  It was a distraction.  His autonomous nervous system began funneling massive amounts of adrenaline into his system.  The pain was beginning to subside.  Implants hardwired into his brain began feeding endorphines and stimulants into appropriate portions of his body and a reserve of nanites began to repair nerve damage.  His body was slowly restoring itself to functionality.  Ryven was not aware of the minutia, but he knew he had only to keep this man talking for a few more minutes and he could find out what he needed to know, and then orchestrate his exit plan.  He finally replied. "Names are irrelevant."

"Ah.  You are correct, of course."  He glanced over at Leela, savoring her agony. "See, I was hired by the man you know as Query.  He specified that I needed to capture both of you.  Using Leela as bait was also his idea." He smiled. "It worked wonderfully."

Ryven nodded. It had worked quite perfectly, hadn't it.  Aside from the assertion that he was even remotely trapped.  Ryven's breathing was becoming less labored, but he feigned difficulty. He gasped his next words. "So..I...have...a...question."

Nantes looked amused. "Oh, this should be good.  Of course, let's hear it."

"This...room..." He paused, gasping for breath. "Fluid routers....flash...clone activation?"

Nantes smiled even wider. "Jammed.  The communications cluster atop this facility has an inward antenna array that broadcasts a signal that effectively cancels fluid router traffic.  If you are killed here, I'm afraid clone reactivation will be severely difficult, if possible at all.  The likelihood of a successful clone activation without some sort of permanent neurological damage is just about zero."

Ryven was nearly ready. "Comms...array...top of facility?" He gasped.

Nantes smiled. "That's what I said."

Ryven returned the smile. "Good.  That's where I planted my first set of explosives."  He used his left arm to press the detonator button on the left side of his belt.

Nantes' smile disappeared as he heard the sudden roar of a massive explosion from above them.  The whole facility shook and the lights flickered in the chamber.  Both gunmen and Nantes were rocked off balance.  Ryven used this moment to grasp the tail end of the spear impaling him and pull himself upward till he slid off the end.  Blood flowed rapidly from the large wound, but, he ignored it and sprung at unthinkable speed toward the three men.  He slammed the first gunman's head into the bulkhead, smashing his face into an unrecognizable mess.  The he swept the feet out from under the second gunman and stomped his neck with his boot, the bones crushed to powder with the force of his unbridled and unrestrained fury.  He reached out and grasped Nantes by the throat, his fingers pincers, digging into the man's flesh.  Nantes's eyes were filled with fear, delicious fear, and feral Ryven relished it, drank it in, every moment nourishing a darkness in his soul.  He loved it.  He quickly drug Nantes face over to the flat end of the spear that had only moments before been impaling Ryven to the floor.

"Say goodbye, Nantes." Ryven said, his voice the deep cold of pure malice.  Without waiting for any reply, he shifted his grip to the back of Nantes' head and drove his face onto the butt end of the spear, driving the shaft up through his eye socket and into his brain cavity.  Target three was dead.  Ryven dropped to his knees, the reality of the violence, the rage, the emotional turmoil of the last few moments too much for him to bear.  A deep moan escaped from within him.  The world went white.  Only the memory, the tugging sensation of one last mission to accomplish kept him from succumbing to it.  He made himself stand.  He walked, as a man possessed, over to Leela, releasing her restraints.  She collapsed onto him, and they both fell to the floor, thudding and smacking into the puddle of blood and excrement below her.  Neither cared. 

Leela simply whimpered in agony as Ryven held her, rocking both of them back and forth.  He pulled a second detonator from his pocket. "Time to go home, Leela." He whispered, as his thumb depressed the detonator, and the entire facility burst into a ball of white hot debris.

They both awoke in Egghelende.

Shining Armor, Part IV: The Compound

7-26 YC 114 2310

Venal Region
C2-DDA Planet IV

Guristas Compound

Ryven slid down the ladder from the top of the tower quickly, only slowing his descent for the last five meters.  At bottom, he quickly darted into the shadows, his sensors scanning for any heat signatures.  He knew, via the orbital scans from a number of recon probes fed into his neural interface, that his target was roughly 400 meters away in the more luxurious habitation module befitting the leader of a pirate compound.  To get there, he had to either skirt the perimeter for some two kilometers or dart through by the armory and the vehicle hangars, and maybe escape notice, or perhaps just blow the whole damn place up.

Ryven used cover as much as possible to conceal himself from view.  More and more heat signatures began to fill his view as he approached the vehicle hangars and armory complex in the center of the compound.  Off to his right, he could see the outline of the compound's sensor complex and control tower for managing vehicle approach and launch.  To his left, he saw scattered barracks buildings and the looming dark shape of the outer wall which sported watch towers and gun emplacements every 200 meters or so.  The compound also had two gargantuan missile launchers for defending against orbital attacks.  

Ryven stopped and rummaged through his backpack, retrieving his demolitions charges.  He grinned to himself at the carnage to come.  He closed his backpack and placed it back on his back before making his way stealthily to the armory.  There was only one guard posted, which Ryven thought was rather careless.  He charged the guard quickly from the right and rammed his skull into the hard tritanium wall of the armory.  The guard's skull caved under the force and reddish gray goo oozed between Ryven's fingers.  He paid it no attention as he instinctively rolled through the entryway into the Guristas' storehouse of weapons and ammunition.  Ryven found a few crates of suitably explosive items and placed one demo charge inside.  Searching for any signs of his being detected, he left the armory and made a beeline for the vehicle hangars.  There were three of them, massive structures for holding the small fleet of ground and aerial assault vehicles, as well as a few shuttle craft for reaching more robust space stations or orbital docking gantries overhead.  These buildings were guarded a little more closely, but, even so, Ryven had no trouble taking each out individually. 

Once charges had been placed in both the armory and hangars, Ryven readied the detonator and sprinted the last hundred meters to the Guristas' commander's habitation module, a large rectangular structure for housing the commander and seeing to his needs.  Ryven had only one need he was interested in satisfying: the commander's need to die, right fuckin now.

Ryven placed a final charge on the habitation module door.  He stepped out of the blast path and took a deep breath before pressing the button to detonate all of the charges.  The armory disappeared in a giant ball of white fire, the tons of ammunition detonating in a secondary explosion that shook the ground Ryven was standing on.  He felt the concussive wave wash over him and for a moment, his sensors flared.  Then came the explosions in the vehicle hangars.  The three hangars detonated in sequence, each flashing brightly and raining glowing hot debris on the compound.  Finally, the last charge, significantly tinier than the others, detonated quietly next to him, blowing the door of the habitation module into a million tiny pieces.  Smoke roiled through the now open doorway. 

Alarms were blaring all over the compound and everywhere the pirates were running trying to control the damage and determine where the attack was coming from.  Ryven seized on this moment of confusion and rushed into the Commander's habitation module.  He made his way through the entry corridor, past the study, past the living room, and down the second corridor to the bedchamber.  He slid open the bedroom door and found the Commander within, groggy from his rude awakening, still in his sleepwear, which, in his case, was nothing.  Ryven would have smiled at the perfection of this moment, but, instead, he just aimed his assault rifle and squeezed the trigger once.

A flash erupted from the muzzle of his assault rifle.  The projectile, a large calibre hypersonic round, traveled the four meters between them nearly instantaneously.  It entered the Guristas Commander's skull just to the left of the bridge of his nose and exploded out the back of his head in a massive splatter of brain and skull and blood.  Ryven was already halfway down the hall before the man's dead body hit the floor.  He darted out the front door of the habitation module and pressed a button on his right wrist.

The dropship picked up this signal and immediately began a high velocity run at 50 meters altitude toward the signal's source.  Ryven began to sprint as fast as he could in the opposite direction from the dropship's approach.  As the dropship passed over, it fired a 'lasso' of nanite-guided microfilament.  This 'lasso' wrapped around Ryven and 'towed' his sorry ass upward toward the dropship's drop-bay.  This is how it looks if viewed on a computer simulation.  In real life, it looked like Ryven was jerked at 900 km/h off of his feet and launched into the night sky.  Both, technically, are accurate. 40 seconds later, when Ryven was settled on a bench in the dropship's drop-bay, he finally allowed himself to smile.

Two down.  One to go.

Shining Armor, Part VI: Game Changer

7-27 YC114 2310

Interrogation Room
Ryven's Flagship
"Princess Shalee"
Revelation-class Dreadnaught

The man spoke through cracked lips, smoke still curling in wisps away from his tortured flesh. He looked a nightmare, blood and fluid from broken blisters and exposed muscle drained from his torso and limbs. His voice belied his pain.

"You were played. The man who gave you the intel, he wanted to get you away from Leela. He sent you out to do some of his dirty work while he and my boss took her unawares."

Ryven's blood ran cold.

"They captured her last night."

Ryven's face was a mask. Only his eyes told the truth of his fury. He spoke calmly and evenly, each word the tolling of a funeral bell. "The only words I better hear out of your mouth is her location."

"Ibura. Planet 2. Orbital platform."

Ryven nodded. He cranked the heat to maximum and left the room. The screaming still hadn't faded when he disembarked to board his stealth bomber and sped at best speed for the Ibura system.

Shining Armor, Part V: Interrogation

7-27 YC114 2300

Interrogation Room
Ryven's Flagship
"Princess Shalee"
Revelation Class Dreadnaught

Ryven stared at the man across the cold metal table. The room was dimly lit and undecorated unless you counted the table, two chairs, and the assortment of torture devices decoration, in which case, it was perfectly arranged to give the torturee the appropriate level of despair.

The man across from Ryven was strapped to the chair with heated wire. The chair itself had internal heating coils. The level of heat was entirely controlled by a controller in Ryven's hand. He could near-instantaneously heat the wires and coils to 110 degrees Celsius.

The man seated in this ungodly device was target three's second in command. Target three had gone off the grid. Ryven needed his location ASAP.

"So." Ryven began, taking a moment to puff on a large cigar. "I'll ask again. Where is Mr. Nantes?"

This had been going on for seven hours. The man was already covered in blistered burns that were beginning to rupture. He was completely unclothed, and the agony was beginning to show through in the man's ragged breaths, wild eyes, and clenched teeth. Still, he remained silent. Ryven again pressed the controller. The man strained against the wires, his back arched. Every muscle in his body tight cords. The air reeked with the smell of burning flesh. Ryven smoked dispassionately for a good three minutes before deactivating the burn.

The man gasped, the wires on his chest had burned down to the muscles. His wristbones had begun to charr, his arteries cauterized. His hands would necrotize soon, lacking a supply of blood.

"You have held out admirably. Know this: if you die without giving me the information I seek, I will hunt down everyone dear to you and inflict a suffering you cannot imagine upon them."Ryven's gaze was stone. His eyes telegraphing his resolve. "I am a capsuleer. You know I will do it. So, again, tell me what I wish to know, and your family will be left alone, and you will die swiftly."

The man slumped, his resolve finally broken. He finally broke his silence, and what he said shocked Ryven to his very core and filled him with a white hot rage he had never before known.

Shining Armor, Part III: The Drop

7-26 YC 114 2248

Venal Region
C2-DDA Planet IV
9km Altitude

Ryven hadn't worn a combat dropsuit in years, but familiarity flooded over him as he prepped for drop.  He carried an assault rifle in his right hand and a pistol on a hip holster.  His back-mounted pack carried spare magazines of ammunition, demolitions charges, and a variety of grenades, as well as a few canisters of nanites for first aid.  He wore a bandolier of ammunition and grenades across his chest as well.  His dropsuit was light, but sported decent protective armor against most small arms and blades.  His helmet was similarly high tech and the optics and sensors were integrated to his capsuleer implants and neural interface to allow for instantaneous neural input and rapid reaction times.  The dropship's location over the temperate planet's surface and the decreasing distance to the drop zone were fed into his neural interface and he knew his drop was less than a minute away.

He moved toward the exit door in the floor of the dropship and prepared himself to jump out into the darkness.  The door slid open slowly and the atmosphere of the planet rushed into the dropship at nearly 900 km/h as the ship zoomed through the lower atmosphere.  A buzzer sounded and Ryven jumped through the exit door and dropped rapidly through the night, an altimeter display on his helmet's viewscreen.  He watched as the digital counter rolled, counting down from the 9km altitude of his drop down to his planned time to activate inertial dampers and retro-thrusters to slow his descent to a safe speed and cushion his impact.  The air rushing past him as he fell through the night sky was a cacophany, but there was no sign at the compound below of his being detected.  The forest canopy rushed toward him from below and the altimeter registered 400 meters till impact.  He fired off his thrusters and activate his dampers.  The thrusters slowed his speed to roughly 50km/h and the dampers soaked up the majority of the force of impact as he slammed into the forest floor, a massive cloud of dust and plant matter occluding him as he crouched and immediately rolled to shed excess momentum.  He came out of the roll in a crouch position, weapon drawn, his senses tuned to his dropsuit's array of sensors.  All was quiet.

He slowly began to make his way toward the compound where his second target was located.  The Guristas camp was a quiet one at this hour, the pirates believing they were safe here in their home regions in a system out of the way, isolated from the usual pathways used by capsuleers.  Ryven was not interested in the usual pathways, however, and these pirates were in for a reckoning.  Their leader was one of Leela's more ruthless clients, and he was not pleased to have her services suddenly rendered unavailable in the past year.  He wished her captured, and likely tortured mercilessly.    The audacity of these assholes, Ryven thought to himself, to think they could capture and harm a capsuleer, especially one so dear to him.

Ryven silently maneuvered the 2 kilometers to the compound's perimeter, and dropped to the prone position.  The dropsuit's optics were automatically feeding his optic nerve images in the infrared spectrum, and in the cool night air, the enemy sentries stood out bright white against the cool bluish gray background.  There were two guards he would have to neutralize before he could make his way into the enemy's compound.  Both stood on a parapet at the corner of the outer tritanium wall of their base.  Ryven crawled to a small ditch roughly twenty meters from the parapet.  The guards were lazily chatting to each other, neither paying attention to what was approaching.

Ryven crawled on his belly toward the tower wall.  Though neither guard was paying attention, the motion of a man sprinting across an open space of ground would draw their attention.  The human eye was attracted to motion, especially at night.  So, he took his time and closed the distance before beginning to climb the wall at the base of the tower and ascend toward the guards' parapet.  His suit made such a climb possible by engaging a set of tiny, but ultra-strong spikes that gripped the outer layers of tritanium plating.  The climb was slow, but, the distance was only around thirty meters and he managed it in just under three minutes.  The parapet was wider in diameter than the tower, so Ryven had to leap one meter backward to grab the lip of the parapet's platform and lift himself up over the edge.  He did so in one fluid motion and launched himself silently over the parapet rail, driving his armored fist into the nearest guard and flinging a throwing knife at the other.  The knife sank deeply into the guard's throat and Ryven drove his elbow onto the windpipe of the first guard.  The entire maneuver ended in under two seconds.  He smiled to himself.

"I've still got it."

Shining Armor, Part II: A Blade in the Dark

7-25 YC114 0127

Villore System

Inys Senchelle's Penthouse

Inys Senchelle had survived, a cutthroat amongst cutthroats, for nearly thirty years, by being paranoid.  Everyone was a threat.  Everyone was a potential betrayal.  He paid generously and widely in hopes of creating a network of failsafes to ensure his survival.  If he had the physical and mental ability to become a capsuleer, he would have.  Unfortunately for him, he was of average mental aptitude and subpar physicality.  His paranoia, it had been speculated, might have stemmed from underlying psychological disorders and social dysfunction. 

This evening, Inys was even more paranoid than usual.  He had requested a hit be put out on the information broker he had used almost exclusively for the past decade.  He hadn't even known her name until a few days ago, when he had hired a different broker, known to him only as the Query, to gather information on Ms. Yttria, formerly Mrs. Krennel.  She had never told Inys her name.  She had always been Codex Red to him.  Now, she was a target.  Query was handling the contract through a series of associates who, he assured Mr. Senchelle, would be able to permanently kill a capsuleer.  Senchelle suspected these associates were either Raiders or Sansha's.  Senchelle shuddered at the thought of either one of those groups hunting him.

Inys sat down on his luxurious sofa in his massive penthouse apartment.  The apartment was lavishly decorated in Gallentean fashion.  Plants and fountains and works of Gallentean sculpture adorned the living room where he sat.  He felt safe here in his home, high above the riff-raff.  No one could touch him here.  He finally was able to relax.  He leaned his head back to rest it on the top of the sofa, his arms stretched out to each side.  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and allowed himself to smile.  The Leela girl would be gone soon, and with her death, a large risk to his safety and security would disappear.  He could rest easy.  He opened his eyes slowly, staring up at the mirrored ceiling.  He had splurged to make the entire ceiling of his apartment one giant mirror a few years ago and had always enjoyed looking at himself, the illusion of staring down at himself was irresistible.  He smiled now at the effect.  He was about to look away when he saw something that made his blood run cold, and the smile fade from his face.  There, in the mirror, he saw his doom.  A tall man, a Civire by the looks of him, was crouched behind his sofa staring up at the mirror ceiling.  Their eyes met in the mirror and Ryven smiled and winked.  Inys screamed as Ryven, faster than Inys thought possible, stood, drew a large blade from his jacket, and plunged it directly into Inys's heart.  The pain was beyond anything Inys ever could have imagined and he gasped as Ryven jerked the blade out of his chest, blood spurting after it.  Inys's eyes drooped as his lifeblood poured out of him in a torrent.  Ryven simply walked away, wiping the bloody blade on the finest artwork he could find on the way out.

One down.  Two to go.

Shining Armor, Part I: The Message

7-20  YC 114  0200

Ryven's eyes had adjusted to the darkness of his quarters at Cerra Manor.  The air was thick with the smoke from a half dozen cigarettes he had smoked in succession.  His eyes had not wavered from the imagined spot on the wall his gaze stared straight through and beyond into a darker world where his plans unfolded and unraveled and played out to their ends.  His mind, the enhanced mind of a capsuleer, could process tactics and such at an accelerated rate, but even so, he had been sitting with his back against the wall for nearly three hours without moving.  It had taken him these three hours to come to a decision, formulate a plan, and calmly accept the possible ramifications. 

Four hours earlier:

Ryven's neocom buzzed to alert him to an incoming call. "Speak." He answered, gruffly.

The voice on the other end was immediately familiar, belonging to a man Ryven had only made use of twice in the past.  Once was when he was trying to free Leela from her father.  The second time was when he was planning to murder Leela's father.  The man was his informant where matters of Leela's former occupation were concerned.  He traveled the same circles, knew the same people, and was, incidentally, hired by those people to track down and deliver similar information on Leela, which was the reason he was making this call.

"They're coming after her, Mr. K." He spoke, emotionless.  "Is this information of interest to you?  Or should I perhaps keep it to myself?" The bastard never gave you anything for free.

"You already know the answer to that." Ryven was impatient and had no time for the usual games. "The standard rate?"

"Ha!" The man laughed without any trace of mirth. "I have you by the balls, Mr. K.  I know she is quite special to you." The line was quiet, and Ryven could almost see the man on the other end of the line: tall, dark skinned, gold teeth, his lips sneering as he imagined Ryven squirming at the other end.  This made Ryven smile.  Imagine, Ryven squirming.  He'd have laughed if the man hadn't finally spoken. "Triple."

Ryven thought for a moment before finally replying. "I'll pay you four times your usual rate."

The man seemed startled by this. "And why am I shown such generosity?"

"Because you're going to give me all the information you have.   All of it." Ryven spoke, his voice like ice.

The man on the other end of the line considered the terms for a full twenty seconds before finally agreeing.  The information was transmitted to Ryven's neocom almost twenty minutes after the call ended. 

4 Hours Later:

Ryven had read over all the information.  Leela's previous occupation, acquiring and selling information on some of the cluster's most interesting and dangerously wealthy individuals to other interesting and dangerously wealthy individuals had made her the unfortunate owner of a wealth of knowledge on all sorts of criminal activities.  Ryven's informant's information showed Leela was currently the target of three different organizations, one of which wanted her dead.  Two wanted her captured.  Ryven realized the futility of either of those actions.  Leela was a capsuleer, and capsuleers were just about unkillable and damn hard to capture.  However, if her clone were to be sabotaged or her ressurection routines rerouted....  well, Ryven couldn't risk that. 

He tapped a few buttons on his neocom and the image of a middle-aged Gallentean man hovered over the small table in his sparsely decorated quarters.  The man had close ties with the Serpentis, not that that mattered much to Ryven.  This operation was going down whether it was legal or not.  Leela may be his ex-wife, but he still cared for her.  She needed his help, even though she would never ask for it.  Ryven pulled a pistol from a nearby drawer and lined the sights up with the floating ethereal head of his first target.

"See you soon."

Assassination

Ryven lay in his bed in the spacious cabin of his Revelation-class dreadnaught, Princess Shalee.  His skin was the smooth, pale skin of a fresh clone.  His wooden pipe, formerly Titus's pipe, hung from his lips and he puffed away at it, the bluish smoke drifting up and hanging a few feet below the overhead.  He had a grin on his face.  It had all gone as he had hoped it would.  He had just been assassinated.

He had been sitting in the Broken Piano bar, relaxing and keeping his eyes out for any familiar faces, but mostly just wanting to be alone.  He hadn't been there very long when his neocom chirped and he received the call he had been expecting from Matthaios Panthera.  Panthera had sent him a discreet mail around a week ago asking him to meet.  Matthaios said he had information about Tigerfish Torpedo that might save Ryven's life.  Ryven was curious, and as far as he could tell, this was a win-win situation.  If Matthaios turned out to be legit, then he would gain some possibly crucial information.  If Matthaios turned out to be something else entirely, then Ryven would get a chance to show Shalee he was serious.  Chicks dig it when you die for them. 

So, when Matthaios asked where to meet, he of course chose the Rowdy Stray Jazz Bar, owned by his close friend Zhou Liang, knowing full well it would be empty and knowing full well there would be no security.

When Ryven arrived at the Rowdy Stray, the bar was empty, as he knew it would be.  He walked over to his favorite booth and had a seat.  He pulled a pack of his personal brand of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one in his mouth.  He lit the end and took a long slow drag before leaning back and waiting for Matthaios to arrive.  He didn't have to wait long.

Matthaios came strolling through the entrance and looked over to Ryven.  Ryven examined him, his face passive.  Matthaios wore a full robe, and his features were mostly hidden.  He had a somewhat unsavory look about him.  Matthaios looked nervous and asked, "Ryven?"

Ryven waved him over.  "I'm Ryven."  He took a long deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled a trail of bluish-white smoke.  He gestured to the bartender to bring two drinks.

Matthaios moved in quickly and to sit down beside Ryven in the booth, blocking him in.  "Nice to finally meet you." He said.

Ryven simply raised an eyebrow, noting he was blocked in.  He shrugged and inwardly felt a sense of satisfaction.  It was going to be that kind of evening. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Matthaios slid his hands under the table, slipping them into his robe and reaching down onto his belt "About Tigerfish of course. I know the man, you see."

Ryven managed not to roll his eyes at the obviousness of that statement, but instead just nodded.

Matthaios pulled out his neocom with one hand and passed it to Ryven. "There, check that video." he grinned.  "I managed to get a recording of Tigerfish's plan, spoken by the man himself." 

He seemed very pleased with himself.  Ryven accepted the neocom, his mouth turning up in the tiniest of grins, the cigarette nearly dropping out of his mouth.  He had to play the part.

Tigerfish Torpedo appeared on the screen, dressed in his usual combat fatigues but holding a large silver blade - the handle, uniquely carved.  "Krennel? You there? I know you're watching me!"

Ryven stroked his chin in silence and put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

Tigerfish held the blade inches from the screen, allowing Ryven to see every detail of the intricate carving. "This blade has never left my side.  Not once in over 6 years.  It's killed nearly 200 men so far, and a few women too."

Ryven grunted. "That's charming.  Not so polite when your girlfriend's not around." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette and lit it, blowing a stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth.

"Mr Krennel, my blade houses a secret.  A secret you can probably see from the handle.  Did you notice?"

Ryven nodded. "Yeah, I noticed."

Tigerfish nodded. "I just wanted you to know how important that blade is to me."

Tiger smiled and looked back down at his blade. "You know, I've not been parted with my blade in over six years.  That's six years, Mr Krennel!  Long time to carry around a blade like this.  But you want to know the amusing thing?"

Ryven  shrugged. "I suspect I'll find out regardless."

Tiger moved his head towards the tiny screen. "This one isn't mine!  It belonged to another man that I killed several years ago." 

At that moment, Matthaios pulled his other hand from beneath the table and jabbed a blade squarely into Ryven's side.  Ryven gasped from the intense pain in his side, his eyes immediately wide with shock, even though he had suspected this might happen. 

Tiger laughed in mirth.  "Don't worry Mr Krennel.  I had the liberty of coating the tip with poison, just because I know she likes you so much."

Ryven spat up a glob of blood and managed a wild-eyed grin. "Well, I will give you this much: you have a flair for theatrics." His breathing was becoming labored.  He leaned back in his seat and took a long slow drag of his cigarette, a smile forming on his lips. "And now I can say I've died for her."  He closed his eyes.  It was taking so much effort to keep them open.

Tiger bowed his head, tossing the other blade away.  "You should feel honored, Mr Krennel.  That blade has never left my side.  Seemed fitting that it be the one I use, even if I don't want your blood on my hands directly."

Ryven opened his eyes momentarily, after hearing Tiger's voice and simply muttered, "Privileged," and slumped in his seat, his eyes closed, dead, a trail of blood dripping from his lips down onto the tabletop.

Matthaios pulled the blade from Ryven's side and wiped it on Krennel's jacket before sliding it back beneath his robe. "Sleep well, Ryven." With that, Matthaios shifted out of the booth and pulled the hood over his head and tipped the bartender on his way out the door.

Ryven had woken in a new clone in Egghelende and immediately made his way to his quarters.  He had been laying in his bed ever since, smiling to himself in the knowledge that everything had gone according to plan.  How could she not love him now?  After all, chicks dig it when you die for them.

Sometimes it's the Little Things

Leela lay on her bunk in her tiny cabin on her Cheetah class covert frigate. She stared at the ceiling, and tears slowly trickled down her reddened cheeks. Things were not going how she envisioned them. She should be happily married to her man. Instead she was completely alone, and worse yet, she may have ruined her hopes of having any friends in I.LAW. She had been honest, but, she had admitted to intentially bugging an I.LAW director. The fact that it was her ex-husband and she had good intentions seemed irrelevant to Shalee and Almity. She had the utmost respect for both of them, and despite her display of calm, it devastated her to have broken their trust. She really had hoped they would be friends. But how can anyone trust a person who's entire life has been devoted to selling secrets?

Leela would never betray Ryven. She owed him too much. It was really sweet that he had sought vengeance by killing her father. He even tried to keep it a secret so she wouldn't have to face it. He needn't have bothered. She knew nearly immediately and had smiled at the news. And yet, she left him. She questioned that decision nearly every day. So, here she was. Alone and lonely, crying over her own decisions. At least no one had to see her cry.

Thomas, her Electronics Systems Officer, knocked on the door. She pressed a button by her bunk and the door slid open. He stood in the doorway in his black and gold militia uniform.

"Lieutenant Henderson, what can I do for you?"

Thomas looked concerned to see her in the dark room with obvious signs of her emotional distress. He stared briefly at the empty bottle of liquor on the floor. "Captain, the crew wanted to present you with something, so I brought it up here for you."

She wiped the tears from her face and sat up, motioning for him to approach.

He strode over to stand before her and drew a gold plaque from behind his back. Engraved on its surface was her name and the inscription: "Best of them all."

She started crying again. Sometimes, it's the little things

OOC

This is my first post OOC. I wanted to muse a little on RP and me.

I only started RP after coming to KOTMC around a year ago. I had never really been around eve rp and had never done any explicit RP in a video game. Suffice to say, I was distraught to realize I had missed the golden age of eve RP.

I spent my first few months laying out backstory and getting a feel for Ryven as a person. I wanted to play a person who seemed real to me. I find that it is tempting to go pure good or evil with a character, but, in Ryven's case, I felt it was much more interesting to play someone grey. I gave him a history of violence and a newfound desire to be good. I wanted him to struggle with his violent nature. I wanted him to also deal with being out of place. Hence, a caldari orphan raised by a gallente and plunged into a life as a merc and then pirate/hegemony seeking null guy.

His conversion to the Amarr faith and continued fight for the Empire solidified his uneasy position.

I guess, if I am trying to say anything at all, that Ry is my attempt to flesh out a real human being and his struggles with the overwhelming power of being a capsuleer and still having basic human struggles and reflecting on a past full of things he isn't proud of.

Downtime

Ryven sat on the sofa in his sparsely decorated quarters in the University of Caille station in Egghelende. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up the framed picture of his fellow director and wingman, Shalee Lianne. It was a download of a standard militia dossier photo, but, it was the only picture he had.

He had just returned from his evening with Shalee and Tiger onboard Tiger's carrier. His mind whirled. How did he manage to leave there alive?

He had gone in an inexpensive clone fully expecting to take the quick route home via clone death. Instead, he had taken the same shuttle he arrived in. This after flat out refusing to promise to back off on Shalee.

Aside from the threats and all, it had been pretty good, as evenings go. Good booze and food, at least.

Truthfully, he couldn't blame Tiger. In the same position, Ry might very well have wished extreme harm on Tiger. The old Ryven would have ripped his heart out and fed it to him. The new Ryven wondered if in a different circumstance they might be friends. Nonetheless, being alive and unharmed was a mixed bag. Dying for Shalee might have enamored her more to him. Maybe Tiger figured as much?

Ryven shook his head to clear his thoughts. This situation was becoming untenable. Could he continue? Or was it time to finally back off and go groveling back to Leela. He laughed bitterly. As if that would work.

The Beach

Ryven walked down the beach. He had started walking away from the Manor on Huola's 7th planet nearly an hour before. He had his boots in hand, the sand oozing between his toes as the surf washed over his feet. He was constantly amazed at the beauty of this planet.

His thoughts drifted over the years of his life up to this point. He had come a long way from being a rowdy orphan with naught but a first name. So much of his life had been spent on pointless bloodshed. He wondered if he had finally begun to atone. Sure, he was still a killer. Thousands died every week at his hands. But he wasn't in it for profit or even enjoyment anymore. Now, he fought for the cause of his God. And unlike in the past, he now felt the awful gravity of every soul he sent to the beyond. Now he had a conscience. The evil of the Haijikiotens was beginning to wash clean.

Then there was his latest trouble, one that nagged him constantly. He had lost one love for the love of another. Shalee. Why couldn't he love someone more attainable? Further, Tigerfish, her fiance, was bound to exact some sort of vengeance. She had told Tiger, of course. It was the right thing to do. But, where did that leave him? Alone, still, even though he had spent several wonderful evenings with her, he was still alone, and now with an axe dangling over his neck. He had really gotten himself into the shit this time. What could he do, though? You don't choose what your heart desires.

And then Leela. He hadn't seen her in weeks other than the curt chatter over comms when she cyno'd him into Kamela in his newest acquisition. That had been a very short and terse discussion limited only to essential information.

He was running a gamble for love, and the stakes were his two closest friends and loves of his life. Ryven sighed and gazed across the waves as the sun set on his troubles with no resolution in sight. The night would bring no solace, and the new day promised only the unknown.

Drinking the Fire

Journal Entry of Ryven Krennel

Onboard Revelation-class Dreadnaught: "Princess Shalee"

Titus always used to refer to a certain feeling a man can get sometimes.  He finds himself caught between one difficult situation and another.  He said all a man can do when encircled in flames is to just drink the fire.  I feel I've been drinking the fire lately. 

I fell in a little over a year ago with someone that it was probably unwise to fall for.  We've flown together now for probably hundreds of patrols.  When the Knighthood fell apart, she was the reason I joined the Imperial Outlaws.  I've followed her all over this warzone, from one battle to the next.  Until less than a week ago, I kept my silence, and even got married to another woman.  Leela, probably the most insanely tough and courageous woman I know, sat me down and ended our marriage over it, because she saw what I didn't see.  She knew our lies were going to kill us in the long run, and that I had to finally just go for it.  So, I did. 

This was probably an insanely stupid thing to do.  But, what else could I do, really?  If I kept my silence, then what would that do?  I would stew and fester and wither, losing one love over another that I could never attain.  Now I've told her, and I am likely going to pay a steep price for this revelation.  Her rather charming boyfriend is not exactly going to be terribly friendly about this.  She already told him about my pronouncement of my feelings.  And I have been invited by said fiance to have a drink onboard his flagship.  I am likely walking into an evening of ample unpleasantries. 

So, here I am.  I find myself in a situation where everywhere I look, there are flames closing in.  The only option I have is to just drink the fire, and laugh at the devil.  I can't turn back now.  

The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Ryven and Leela's quarters were dark and heavy with a tension that Ryven could almost taste in the air as he walked through the entryway door.  The lights were dimmed, and a layer of smoke hung dank in the air.  Leela sat, cross-legged, leaning forward in a  metal chair.  She gestured for him to sit in the other chair directly in front of hers.  He sat down and she clasped his hands in her own.  He immediately tensed up, knowing only trouble could be coming. She licked her lips nervously and bit her lip before finally speaking.

"You know we need to talk." She stated, a hint of ice in her voice. "And I think you know what we need to talk about." Her eyes bored holes in his forehead.

Ryven stared back at her blankly.  He honestly had no clue what she was talking about.  "I actually have no idea, so, why don't you lay it out for me."

She seemed frustrated by his obtuseness, but sighed and decided to go ahead and explain. "You still love her."  Her eyes flashed.

Ryven's heart sank, and he felt a lump growing in his throat.  Of course he did.  He had, almost as long as he had known her.  He had hoped it would go away after he married Leela.  And it wasn't like he didn't love Leela.  But, those loves were leagues away from being the same.  He loved Leela, but never like he loved her.  Not trusting himself to speak, he just nodded.

Leela, nodding at his silent admission, continued, a tear running down her cheek. "I can't even be mad, Ry.  I knew you loved her when I agreed to marry you.  I thought, maybe, just maybe, you could get her out of your head.  I thought maybe I would be the woman in your life.  The one you wanted to be with.  The one you wanted to spend your life together with."  The tears began to flow more steadily, and she quickly stifled them and wiped her eyes. "But these are just pretty lies we tell ourselves.  Lies we want to hear.  Lies that help us to ignore the painful facts in front of our faces."

Ryven felt a tear of his own running down his cheek.  He couldn't even make eye contact with her.  She was right.  He had been deluding himself into thinking he could make it work.

He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes meeting hers. "You're leaving me, aren't you?"

She nodded, her mouth turning up in a weak and utterly joyless smile. "What choice do I have?  You know I love you.  You're the only man I can say that about.  I can't be with someone who doesn't feel the same way.  It's not fair to me, and I won't stand for it.  So, I'm letting you go."

Ryven cradled his head in his hands, the room suddenly swirling around him.  He really was a bastard, wasn't he?  She spoke only the truth, the truth he hadn't been willing to see.  He was still in love with her.  The right thing to do would be not to keep leading Leela on.  Besides, Leela was still young, attractive, and undeniably a good woman.  She wouldn't be alone for long.  Still, the finality of this was a dagger straight through his heart.  His chest felt heavy and breathing became much more difficult.  His eyes stung from the unfamiliar tears that suddenly filled them. "So.  This is it then?  What will you do now?"

She nodded. "Well, I'm not going anywhere.  I like it here, in I.LAW.  This is my place, now.  Honestly, I won't want to be around you for a while.  But, and I know this sounds cliche, I think we could still be good friends, once some time passes.  You've done so much for me, and I can't ever forget that."

Ryven crossed the short space between them and embraced her.  The only words he could think to use were: "Thank you."

She had saved them from the lies they told themselves.

TotHB: Division

Titus was sitting in his office, the only light coming from the distant star of the Torrinos system coming through the window. Haijikioten Security Group rented an office in a small Caldari station owned by Home Guard. He was going over the payroll and smoking his pipe. The bluish smoke wreathed his face, the red embers enhancing the gleam in his eyes. It had been a good year.

The door slid open, and the air seemed to grow much more electric. Kalus stood in the doorway, his slender form silhouetted by the light in the anteroom. Titus could smell the booze on him and scowled.

"What's wrong, Titus? No love for your brother?" Kalus slurred, stumbling into the office and crashing onto the sofa against the wall.

"Just wondering what my dear brother would be wanting this time."

Kalus frowned dramatically. "You really are a fucking dick, you know."

Titus simply stared.

After a few moments, the tension in the room at its zenith, Kalus spoke. "I want you to buy me out."

Titus was shocked. Buy him out? "What are you talking about?"

Kalus sat up straight. "I want you to pay me my portion of HSG. I am leaving to start my own company."

Titus stood, anger consuming him. "You piece of shit. Why the hell would you want to do something stupid like that? You've got no head for running a company!"

Kalus sprung up from the sofa and punched Titus hard on the mouth. "How would you know?" He screamed, kicking Titus as he tried to get up from the floor. "You've never let me try!"

He kicked Titus some more. "You've always looked down on me. You've been holding me back. You've been getting richer and richer while I've been scraping by on what scraps you'd give me! No more!"Tears streamed down his face. "It's my time, damnit!"

This was more than booze, Titus saw. Some drug, likely as not. His heart ached for his brother, but Titus knew he could help him no longer.

Titus stayed on the floor. He typed onto his datapad. He transferred exactly 50% of HSG's net worth to Kalus's account. He sighed. "Fine. It's done. Now get out before I kill you where you stand."

Kalus stiffened, saw the look in Titus's eyes, and walked quickly out the door.

Titus saw the door close, and wept.

Tales of the Haijikioten Brothers: Business

Titus and Kalus were as different as two brothers could be. Kalus was lanky and gaunt, with burning eyes and a head of black hair. Titus was broad and stocky, with icy eyes and a calm demeanor. Kalus always rushed headlong into fights. Titus was calm and murderously effective at finishing the fights Kalus started.

Both were raised on ships. Both learned the mercenary way of life early. Both were seasoned in war before they had thier first woman.

Kalus was astoundingly daring. Nothing caused him to fear. Titus was a shrewd man, cultivating contacts and developing a head for business. When thier father died during a routtine contract, Titus convinced his brother that it was time to start thier own security firm. So, with the casual persuasion of Titus, they obtained a loan, and bought a Lynx-class frigate and converted her for thier kind of operations.

The contracts came in and the brothers expanded thier fleet. Titus invested his money wisely, increasing his holdings and expanding his business. Kalus loved drink and women, and was jealous of his brother's ability to accrue wealth. Titus tried to counsel his brother, but eventually grew tired.

The years passed, and thier relations grew much colder. They purchased a Rokh-class battleship, the Tovil-toba, and Titus assumed command of the ship, and the business. He knew troubled times were ahead.

Skin of My Teeth

Ryven activated his warp drive along with the rest of Almity's small gang of frigates and destroyers. He watched as the others disappeared in streaks, engine trails fading behind them. He frantically searched his overview for whatever was preventing his warp from activating. There was a glitch. There must be a glitch. He finally caught glimpse of the Ishtar, or Vexor, or whatever it was, and his overview finally updated. "Sneaky Noob." Dumbass name. Decent pilot. Definitely a pain in the ass. Definitely matching him for speed. Ryven double checked to see if his repairs were keeping up with what damage he was taking. Ryven grinned. He was maintaining armor levels near 99.9%. He quickly overheated all of his mid-power modules. He needed to gain an extra boost of speed. He watched as the range began to open. It might be just enough. The rest of the Minmatar gang was far behind, except for this Ishtar/Vexor, and a Malediction that was closing rapidly. Ryven hoped he would be able to escape in time, and saw warning indicators informing him that his modules were sustaining heavy damage from overheating. He crossed his fingers mentally. The heat indicator had reached maximum level right as he broke out of the warp disruptor's range. With lightning speed, he activated his warp drive...

...the orange target indicators flashed out of view. Space flew by around him in ripples. He was vaguely aware that his microwarpdrive had been destroyed. If he'd waited half a second longer to activate his warp drive, he would not have escaped. He felt exhiliration the moment he landed on station. The Malediction followed, but, Ryven was able to dock safely. He laughed long and hard.

Hit n Run

After decades of fighting in space, I have concluded that my favorite tactics are not the massive set-piece battles, but the hit and run and ambush operations. I have been involved in some massive fleet actions involving a thousand or more ships slugging it out, but, as awe-inspiring as it is seeing that much destructive potential in action, it is actually mind numbing in its execution. Hit and run is far more exhilirating. Dart in, make your attack, warp out before reinforcements arrive. Coordinate and execute. Adjust on the fly. Stick and move. Ambushes similarly require coordination, and the moment the ambush is sprung is sublime.

Last night was a hit and run operation. We managed to bloody a few noses under Almity's command before the Minmatar main fleet arrived in ludicrously overwhelming force (not PL levels of ludicrous, but still pretty laughable). Almity managed to complete our operation and get us home. The point, I guess, is that these smash and roll ops are growing on me.

War Diary: Rifterlings and the Battle of Kourmonen

I was straggling behind the fleet in a laser fit Ferox-class battlecruiser which I had just borrowed from my old comrade, Raphael Saint.  The fleet was making a push to try to regain the Kourmonen system, and the Matari had been fighting back every step of the way.  Two engagements had already taken place, and I had survived both.  A new strategic objective had been broadcast, so, I needed a bigger ship.  I had to fly to Arzad to get it.  Thus, my tardiness.

I jumped into the Lamaa system, just one jump from my rendezvous with the main body of the fleet.  I warped to the Kourmonen gate, and jumped.  When my display finally loaded, I knew I was in trouble.  A Claw-class interceptor was waiting for me.  I engaged my warp drive to try to make a break for the complex my fleet was assaulting.  Unfortunately, the Ferox was sluggish, and I saw the familiar indicator of my warp drive being disrupted.  So, I made a mad dash for the stargate back to the Lamaa system.  The Claw could stop my warp, but couldn't stop me jumping through the gate.  I made it back with little to no damage, but found several of the Claw's friends waiting for me.  This time, they hit me with stasis webs and warp scramblers.  I tried to make it back to the gate, but was essentially frozen in place.  That's when I noticed the Blackbird class cruiser ten kilometers away.  Like most insane people, I smiled. 

I locked up the blackbird and disrupted its warp drive before opening fire with my battery of pulse lasers.  Yes, that's right.  A Caldari hull with pulse lasers.  Get over it.  The blackbird was not equipped to deal with that much electromagnetic energy on its shields and began to pull range.  Tragically, I had no way to keep the blackbird close enough.  That and the bastard kept jamming my targeting systems, which had the effect of pissing me off.  Once I had targeting back, I engaged the Claw, which had rejoined the fight, and the Vengeance class assault frigate that was trying to damage my ship's rather strong shield.  Neither these Matari, the Rifterlings, nor my ferox seemed to be making much headway.  I opened up comms to the fleet commander and informed him of my situation.  The fleet commander decided to send aid.  So, I waited.  Mostly, I just didn't feel like having to sit there for the ridiculous amount of time it would take for the Rifterlings to destroy my ship.  It was only a moment or two before the familiar purple squares signifying my friends began to populate my display.  The blackbird, recognizing impending doom, warped way quickly, as did the claw.  The vengeance, however, was locked down, imprisoned by my warp disruptor and that of likely three or four others.  He disintegrated rapidly. 

I thanked the fleet and we quickly headed for the complex to assault it.  We managed to get set up at range and waited for their arrival.  They didn't keep us waiting very long.

My tactical overview began to fill up with the familiar flashing orange boxes I had come to love.  The fleet commander's orders began to fill my ears and our fleet aligned to the system's star with microwarpdrives on.  Engagement orders piled in and comms and space both seemed to fill with the furor of battle.  Ship after ship was engaged and destroyed on both sides, before finally, our fleet realized we had to leave.  I left in my capsule, the ferox a cloud of debris floating in dead space. 

In the end, we lost over 50 ships to some 40 minmatar kills.  ISK wise, we came out ahead.  I would say, truly, it was a monetary victory, a tactical defeat, and a strategic victory.  We showed that we still have the ability to fight.  We showed we can do it in lesser ships.  So, despite our losses, I feel it was an overall victory. Most importantly, it was a good night. 

The Wedding

Ryven and Leela cuddled cozily on a lounger together on the terrace at Cerra Manor, drinks in hand.  The light of Huola's star had sunk below the horizon and the night air was cool on their skin.  They were alone and silent, comfortable in each other's company.  Ryven reflected on their history together.

Leela had been a contact of his during his more turbulent years, before he found his home fighting for the Amarr.  She had an affinity for obtaining information through a long list of personal contacts throughout New Eden.  Over several years of working together, he had developed an affection for the young woman, beautiful as she was, and full of confidence and vigor.  She excited him.  He chafed at her virtual imprisonment under the strict rule of her father, Garta Yttria.  He was abusive, controlling, and a certifiable sadist.  Ryven developed a keen hatred for the man.  So, when Leela came to him asking for help, he was happy to oblige.  He was not as happy to let Garta live. 

Fresh from this escape, Ryven devoted the remains of his inheritance from Titus to financing Leela's training as a capsuleer.  He paid her way, helped train her, and then made a huge life change.  He found God.  He became a crusader.  In light of his new faith, he knew he had to set her free from him as well.  This wasn't easy for him, but, morality never is.  So, he met with her, and discussed the future.  She surprised him.  She agreed to forsake her people and join him in fighting for the Empire.  She chose Ryven.  Ryven never forgot.

Over the months together fighting the Minmatar, their bond had strengthened.  She could cut through his bullshit, melt away his worries, and render him completely vulnerable.  Most surprisingly, he didn't mind.  Now, he couldn't imagine ever losing her.

At this point in his musings, Ryven reached a conclusion.  He looked down at Leela's head on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing, her red hair waving in the light breeze.  She must have felt his gaze, because she turned and gazed up at him, her eyes meeting his.

"See something you like?" She gave him an adorable smirk.

"You have no idea." He smiled involuntarily.  She was always drawing smiles out of him.

"Oh, I don't know.  I think I have a pretty good idea." She gave him a mischievous grin and looked around to see if there were any onlookers.

"As much as I would love to take you down to the beach and, well, you know, I have something else in mind."

"Oh?" She looked extremely curious.

"Marry me."

Her eyes shot wide open.  Her mouth dropped open.  Her face turned bright red.

"Make that face all you want.  I still want you to marry me."

Her shocked expression slowly melted away into one full of mirth. "Are you sure?" She smiled. "I'm not very domesticated."

"Absolutely certain.  I wouldn't have you any other way."

"Well, can't say I didn't warn you." She shrugged. "Okay, then.  Yes.  Let's get all married and shit."

Ryven laughed. "You know, you could act at least a little bit excited about it."

She wrapped her arm around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss.  "That better?"

Ryven smiled wide. "Much better.  Now let's go down to the beach and do this."

"Right now?" She looked amused. "Not gonna invite all your crazy ass friends and throw a huge bash and parade me around?"

"Does that sound like me?"

Her expression softened into one that spoke volumes of love. "No.  Which is why I love you."

He carried her in his arms down to the beach, set her down on the sand, and opened up his neocom.  Five minutes later, they were officially married.  Two hours later, the marriage was well and duly consummated. 

Ryven's afternote: It took two days to get all that sand out.  That stuff gets everywhere. ;)

Leela's Training

She sat there on his couch, legs crossed, eyes peering at him, a look of warmth that made him feel the love they had begun to share. Her capsuleer training was nearing completion, and she seemed transformed, once a small woman of twenty years, now a timeless being embodying untold destructive power. In a few weeks she would graduate, another capsuleer freely moving between the stars.
"Where will you go, Leela?" He asked, his blue eyes wreathed in the smoke from his pipe.
She looked confused.
"When you finish your training. I know you said you would stay with me, but now you are becoming something powerful. You will be free to go anywhere without fear. I cannot hold you to your promise."
She smiled. "You haven't had a lot of trust in your life, have you?"
He shook his head and sighed.
She nodded and gave him a sympathetic look. "I told you I would stay with you, and I meant it. You saved me from my father. You took me into your care. And I fell for you."
He frowned. "But my path means fighting your people."
She smiled, only a trace of sadness in her eyes. "You are my people now."

Status: Returned

Arzad. Infamous site of turmoil. I am back. The war rages on. As always, I am in the middle of it. The ranks of the Matari have swelled. Seems they have a better propaganda campaign than we do.

Still, it is good to be back on the front. Our time in Otosela was not wasted, but treachery seized some of the fruits of that labor. Still, we are better for our time spent there. Now, we are back on the front lines again, where we should be.

Leela and I have grown closer. I don't know what she sees in an old merc like me, but with luck, her vision will stay blurry. On the other hand, considering her shitty life until now, I probably do seem a saint.

Transferrance

Garta Yttria was a stern, tall, cruel looking man in his sixties. His clothing was stylish, in a minmatar way, and he wore a neatly trimmed beard that served to enhance the lines of his face. It seemed he was a man whose life had always been a source of much frowning. It was difficult to imagine him with a smile. His eyes studied his daughter and the large Civire before him. The Civire was around six feet tall and built for battle, his muscles all toned. He was bald with a face of scruff and a pair of dark shades over his eyes. The Caldari's face was expressionless and the voice that came from his lips echoed years of war. It was spoken softly, but the threat of violent force underlied it. He was a capsuleer, and he seemed to know the cards were on his side. Garta was seething.

Ryven spoke in a deliberate manner, each word standing on its own. "Leela is no longer under your care.". He seemed to ooze venom on the word 'care.' "She is coming with me."

Garta exploded. "Who do you--what the fuck?! She's my daughter! She is MINE. You can't just barge in here and steal her out from my home."

Ryven seemed amused. "First, yes, I can. Second, she is an adult. You keep her locked up here to service your security forces like a damn brood mare. I have seen the injuries left by your 'care.' You will be lucky if all I take from you is Leela."

Garta turned crimson with rage. Ryven's shades, a set of ocular biometric scanners and tactical overlays, read the rise in the man's blood pressure and increasing rage. A fight was imminent.

Garta launched into a haymaker punch, swinging a long slow powerful strike toward Ryven's face. Ryven, sped up by his implants, dodged deftly to the side and delivered a rapid punch to his opponents temple. Garta gasped and stumpled to the side as Ryven kicked a booted foot into his kneecap, shattering it. Garta screamed and collapsed. Ryven placed his boot on Garta's throat and pushed his shades onto his forehead. His blue eyes were ice, freezing Garta's blood in his veins.

"You no longer have a daughter. If we ever see you again, I will burn this world to the ground. Do you understand?"

Garta could only nod, gasp for breath, and watch the devil walk away, arm in arm with his daughter.

Outlaw Again

The past few months have been tumultuous. Imperial Outlaws seems a more fitting name than it used to. We all acknowledged that the war could not be fought with lily white gloves, so, we took them off. TEST arrived, and now CONCORD will destroy any ship I pilot into empire space. This is the cost of defending Amarr, albeit in Caldari lowsec space.

I have grown closer to my comrades here on the fringe. There is a unity of purpose, a convergence of ideals. Not zealotry, but patriotic fervor, and willing sacrifice to the idea of our home. Amarr is my home. I wasn't born there, but it is, as they say, where my heart is. That and Leela, a matari, oddly enough. She too has left her birth behind and embraced a new world: me.