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.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
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.
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.
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."
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.
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."
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."
Saturday, July 14, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
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
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
Saturday, July 7, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
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.
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.
"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.
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