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Bad Reputation [Closed] - Printable Version

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RE: Bad Reputation [Closed] - danixiewrites - 12-12-2015


Volt would have been at home in Krotaz, perhaps, Sascha realized with the muted slowness of a pleasant buzz. The biological entity--electronic construct, really--would not have had to fight for his freedom, for all of his brethren's freedom, were he elsewhere in the galaxy. The whole horrible week could have been avoided had they just performed some complicated rescues and jetted off into space. She'd have been saved from the weight of dozens of lasers perpetually honed on her backside. There'd certainly be less action in the Hunter community.

Shards of inhuman emerald and copper were less in evidence as she focused them on the Krotazi once more, her pupils dilated and cheeks flushed. "I like that," she said inanely. "Owning people is bad."

But then, she considered, he wouldn't have beaten the corporations at their own game, won the right to linger in the part of the galaxy that he called home. Wouldn't have truly been "human", in the sense that mattered, if they'd simply run.

She wouldn't have been able to do it, either. Because the grass was never greener.

Ever.

On that sobering thought (that didn't really do much to actually sober her up)--cards, did I drink the whole thing? she asked herself as she held up the bottle on that reminder and then shook it, empty save a droplet that swished around the bottom--Sascha rubbed the back of one gloved hand over gritty eyes. No time limits. It seemed reasonable, because the loan hounds who hired actual shark-things to take out kneecaps definitely had time limits, and yet...

"And what if that karma doesn't come back?" she asked, a barely audible musing, "What if a favor can't be repaid because someone went and got shot in the head by a double-barreled synthbeamer? Seems like that would be expensive."

She reclined further, sinking into the Krotazi as the rum sank into her bones, her brows furrowed as she tried to consider the consequence. "But of course you must have some method to address that." Relatives or something. Someone else to befriend. Her lips pursed, but she shook the sardonic thought free. Everything was fine. "The corporations would, at any rate."

Law-abiding--She made a sound between a chuckle and a cough, rubbing her throat with her fingertips. And she wouldn't have mentioned how very not law-abiding SHE was, but then came the question about her recent activity and...well. The alien HAD just gotten between her and certain death. For the moment. It was worth a small measure of gratitude, at the very least. She tapped her temples languidly, as if those were the very spots where the cypher remained in her brain. The keys to the smattering of code on the chip tucked into the palm of one glove. Code they'd only have been able to unlock if they'd cut her open, plugged into her brain, and known how to think like a human--more, like her--because Fate had done his job well. "You would not BELIEVE how mad people get when you prove you're smarter than they are."

Or when they decided simply you weren't worth the trouble anymore.

---

Visiting? Fate's eyes widened. Well. That was a much better proposal than the alternative, fearing Grilka would hunt him down xyrself.

Except that Kreska Ido would certainly be followed, and tentacles would chase him in his sleep.

>>Will it get xyr attention off Sascha?
>>If you come here?

It didn't really matter. If the outcome meant she'd no longer be in harm's way...

"For fuck's sake," Fate muttered, his instinct to smash his head on the desk in front of him only overruled by the need to not take his eyes off the image of curly brown hair that kept cutting in and out with the sway of the tablet.

If his weakness was getting lost to the route of the Net, hers was booze. And though she handled it well on a normal day, she also didn't normally consume an entire bottle of rum so potent grown men were known to go under the table after a couple of shots. No, that was normally done after a job, tucked away in his hideyhole or one he'd secured for her. When it was safe. When everything was over and she could afford to forget, not to worry, not to be haunted, just to relax in being safe...

Safe was the exact opposite of what was happening here and he couldn't even fucking tell her.

"Oh gods. Idiot!" He snapped his fingers. White teeth flashed back at him from the rows of monitors and he tapped on several keys. "Maybe I can't, but this bad boy's got a modulator."

He'd planned to just have him knock, to be a distraction. But this was much better. Surely. If he was, as Kreska so eloquently put it, "literal fucked", than annoying the Krotazi further couldn't make this any worse. It just might buzz some sense into Sascha though, and that would get her moving, rather than lounging like an actual princess. The android knocked at the door, its voice piping loudly, "Top o' the mornin', pips! What ken I get yer today?"

Which hadn't been what he coded, but rather some damned fool's default "pub" setting that he'd missed because panic and code did not play nicely, and Fate groaned loudly into the emptiness of his workspace.

>>Come here.
>>Bring Sascha.
>>Before I do something REALLY stupid.


RE: Bad Reputation [Closed] - Tindome - 12-15-2015

    Grilka curled a talon to reach beneath Sascha's chin and tilt her face higher, darting tongues toward her as ey admired her expression. Ey did so love it when people lost control of themselves. Even if ey could not, this time, take credit for it. Another hand tossed away the spent cigarette butt. "What pretty eyes," ey noted, before letting her go to pat the top of her head again. "Yes," ey agreed, "owning people is bad."

    Legally, anyway.

    In a purely practical sense, Grilka owned lots of people.

    It was a fine distinction, but an important one.

    "Hmm – tricky business. Everything is equal in death. I try not to ask for dangerous favors from delicate things, pretty things. I have bigger friends for those. Someone dies alone, karma balances. Someone failed to keep them safe – that is another imbalance altogether. Yes? Nothing for me to address, necessarily… but I am not corporate." As she relaxed against em, tendrils moved in subtle ways to rub against her back.

    Like a massage chair. If a massage chair was sentient. Which, to be fair: they sometimes were.

    Ey brushed hair away from her temple, head cocked to the side to consider her. "Very smart," Grilka praised. "Maybe too smart for your own good, I think." More careful coaxing might be required to get the information ey wanted – that ey assumed ey wanted, not knowing yet what it was. "Were you trying to prove it?" ey wondered. "Or were they only very stupid?"

    Kreska made a face at her tablet.


    ☠» like
    ☠» if i left them alone
    ☠» ?
    ☠» lol no


    Should she mention that she could hear him? She wasn't convinced he knew that he was talking. She looked back up from the screen at Grilka and Sascha, and then her frown was for the Krotazi.

    "Hey!" she said immediately, pointing at em. "Donchu fuckin' dare." Grilka paused, having been halfway to lighting up a stick of memti. Ey considered her request, and decided that the best response was to hiss at her, teeth bared. Kreska was not deterred. "She might need t'move, don' need ya fuckin' people up accidental."

    There would be nothing accidental about it, but Kreska knew better than to say that outright.

    "But she just got comfortable," Grilka countered, lengths of tail and tendril moving over one another in a way that Kreska recognized as possessive. Even if ey wasn't trying to hold onto her, the desire was clearly there.

    And then came the voice at the door.

    Kreska looked from the door to her tablet, raking good fingers through gravity-defying curls. Bring her to the door? Bring her to him? How? It wasn't like she could carry her. Maybe the droid could. Get girl to droid. Doable. If that was what he was asking. As was often the case, she wanted clarification and didn't want to ask for it.


    ☠» fuckin
    ☠» all i wanted was a nap
    ☠» & now this shit
    ☠» more stupid then dropping chick on me
    ☠» more stupid then that hole up there
    ☠» more stupid then chimney sweep bot
    ☠» how do u define stupid


    "Somebody wants'er," Kreska said to Grilka, and this time ey did not stop her when she slid down from her perch on eir tail. She nearly shoved her tablet into her back pocket before recalling the camera, and so she set it aside instead. Just long enough that she could fix her shirt, pulling the hem down to cover her middle and actually putting her arms through the sleeves. The neck was stretched out, but it hadn't been in particularly good shape before, so. She grabbed her tablet again, and her jacket on the way to the door.

    "I don't see why that matters," Grilka said, "if she doesn't want to go." A hand tugged idly at one of the sleeves crudely tied around Sascha, not quite paying attention to her. "She'll need to change, first, anyway."

    Opening the door from the inside was actually much easier for Kreska than it was from the outside. Even if she had to throw her jacket on and shove her tablet in a pocket so her good hand was free, had to jump to reach the latching mechanism.

    She cracked the door just enough to look outside.



RE: Bad Reputation [Closed] - danixiewrites - 01-02-2016


"Technically, a lot of people want her," Fate muttered, then actually considered what he'd typed to Kreska in panic. For all that he was used to working with whatever was at hand, Fate also worked in the Net, and code had defined capabilities. The variables were hackers at cross-purpose, viruses and firewalls (generally easy to corral), dead-space (easily avoided), and...lifeforms. Given his lack of experience delving into societal norms, his plans were often flawed by logistics.

Not that he'd admit it, even to himself.

And it didn't help matters that Sascha was fairly flexible and any griping she sent back with regards to his "the air vent to your left looks mostly clear" sort of directions, the rerouting she did on her own as if to spite him, Fate took as playful banter rather than actual--"not a single alien species on this station could fit through there, you socially-displaced miscreant"--fact.

This time, however, the relaxed slump of his friend's shoulders against a monster who was trying to convince her friendship was something else entirely registered as more problematic on the solution-front. Because he also hadn't considered his robotic gentleman's use beyond voice annoyability and food delivery purposes, because he'd had time to work toward a specific purpose. To carry a person, he'd have sent a much more suitable model.

There wasn't time for that. And grander gestures would only destroy Krotazi property, sink him deeper into trouble. No, he was still working too many angles, keeping obnoxiously probing scanner 'bots at bay, keeping tabs on bounty hunters that hadn't simply...vanished. And he couldn't see the bigger picture...any picture...for the tentacles.

"Oh yes. GREAT plan, old chap," he muttered even louder, affecting the same accent as the ridiculous robot. "Send the broken, hunted green miss to trundle about with an armload of drunken, hunted princess. There is no way that can end badly."

>>You're looking at it.
>>Also I can't seem to remove the British accent.
>>If it can borrow your rat's top hat, it'll be less stupid.
>>Everything's less stupid with a top hat.

There had to be a way to fix this. He just had to take this like he would if he'd taken a step outside his hideyhole. It was the only way he'd be able to focus past the panic and get things back to normal. He just had to stop, breathe, THINK, and--"Fuck, is she about to just hand over the--" His fingers flew over keys far too quickly for much thinking to be involved.

---

Sascha cringed a bit as the Krotazi's sharp teeth and tongues filled her view. Her 'pretty eyes' had come at too high a cost. Far too high. Her spine threatened to tighten, locked doors in her mind rattled against her relaxed state, fighting to open, shoving her back under bright lights and tables and sharp implements and--xe backed off before the blood-soaked images spilled forth and Sascha sighed against xyr grip.

"Makes sense," she agreed again, trying to focus on the words. "Backup plans are important." Not corporate was also good. Today. Very good. Wasn't it? She rubbed her forehead with the back of one wrist. Really shouldn't have finished the whole bottle--her head would pound in the morning. "They were just trying to get the co--"

"This is a stickup!" said a very British voice from somewhere she couldn't see with her vision filled with tentacles and shiny jewelry.

It wasn't a wall being shorn from the room, but it was jarring nonetheless, in a way that could only have been Fate.

If it was a message though, she sure as fraggin' shit had no idea what he was trying to tell her.

---

Fate's forehead was really starting to hurt.


RE: Bad Reputation [Closed] - Tindome - 01-15-2016

    She might have objected to the characterization of herself as broken, but she snorted anyway at his comically accented rambling. Did he ever stop talking? She watched text flash by too quickly for her to read on her bracelet, and so she got her tablet back out of her pocket to see what he was saying.

    Was he saying he was stupid, or the droid? She looked from the screen to the droid, the door still not open enough to allow access.

    That did not look like a droid well-suited to carrying a woman around.

    "Y'ain't really allat great't th'plannin' part, are ya?" she asked as she leaned in the door. "Was there a plan?" She was beginning to have significant doubts on that front. The trappings of a mastermind had fooled her for a bit, but her initial instinct seemed closer to the mark: bossy nerd on a power trip.

    The apparent incompetence was actually kind of endearing, in its way. Not that she would ever say as much.

    Grilka felt against eir tendrils the way Sascha started to stiffen, darting tongues tasting the beginnings of panic before ey withdrew. A touchy spot, then, those eyes. Something to poke at, but delicately. For now. Though it had not been deliberate to unnerve her, it seemed to serve well as she spoke unguarded.

    Before the interruption.

    Ey clicked eir teeth in irritation, attention turning to the door. Ey moved impatiently, 'stood' as ey turned with eir tail rearranging all the while. It was almost hypnotic in the smooth grace of the motion, tendrils sliding over one another, letting em move and for a moment seeming as if ey might let Sascha go, holding her securely all the while. Ey'd gotten very good at that over the years, carrying people in various arrangements for occasionally startling distances. More than one limited eir range of motion more than ey liked, but it was still doable.

    Ey loomed up behind Kreska, opening the door wider from above her head. She huffed in irritation, nearly stepping out of the room in her desire to keep her distance from the Krotazi, stopped by her desire to go no nearer to the droid. Grilka had no such difficulties, and as always ey expressed eir impatience by moving people rather than waiting for them to move. One hand wrapped around Kreska's arm to yank her back into the room, and it may have been deliberate that talons mapped to bruises now covered by her jacket, made her wince as she stumbled backward. Simultaneously eir two right hands reached out to grab the droid and pick it up as easily as ey would have picked up a person. Ey pulled it inside, and dropped it unceremoniously as ey shut the door.

    Sascha, being new, was still held quite gently.

    "There," ey said, "much better." Kreska was already attempting to distance herself from the group Grilka had made of them, a situation Grilka dealt with by pushing her back toward the problematic droid. Which, still being heaped on the floor, she tripped over backward. This, too, may have been deliberate. Kreska scowled at em from where she sat now on the floor, pulling her legs away to safety and holding her injured hand and her tablet in her lap. She did not bother trying to get back up, and Grilka rewarded this by taking attention away from her, activating eir holo-display again.

    "Stolen," ey said, sibilant satisfaction. "This is the same one, yes, this friend of yours? The one who drills holes in things that do not belong to him, the one who is so very bad at being helpful?" The questions were pointed, but a few tendrils unwound from eir tail to pat reassuringly at Sascha's hair. "Not that he does not mean well, I am sure," ey said, sounding not sure at all. Ey left eir display open, considering the pile of droid and Jobari through it, still watching Sascha out the corner of eir eye. "Was 'clusterfuck' what you were going for, friend-of-a-friend?"



RE: Bad Reputation [Closed] - danixiewrites - 02-22-2016

Something was awry. Sascha knew this, but for the life of her she couldn't rouse herself enough to study the aspects of the situation as she would a mission. Every angle, every path, every outcome. A whole glowing bottle of Venusian firerum, though, was enough to make clarity like so much mush. Little glints of sobriety peeked through, but the appearance of Fate's robotic minion was only enough to spark her curiosity--not any measure of well-being concern.

All she wanted to do was stop running. To finally take a load off and rest for a while. Curl up somewhere safe where no bounty hunters would track her for a few hours, where she could catch a non-drug-assisted sleep. Stop dying her hair and coloring her eyes and wearing clothes that weren't *hers*. Just for a little while. It was probably problematic that this spot, perched on Grilka, was so comfortable.

Probably.

But Sascha snuggled in anyway, easing under the tentacles as if Grilka were petting her to submission rather than patting her on the head like a proud parent. One brown eyebrow raised at the metal gent. "He always means well."

"Clusterfuck, indeed, good sirs and madams!" the robot rattled out with an oddly jaunty set to its chin.

She leaned back with a smile. "Cards, but that's hilarious. It's even got an accent!"

A moment ticked by and she registered more of eir probing questions. And the fact that she'd just done something wrong, and it had to do with Fate. Had she said his name? Told someone where to find him? Sascha scrubbed her forehead with the back of one wrist. Unfortunately, the need to set Grilka straight brushed away those concerns like a ripple in a pool of still water. "He's very good at being helpful, actually. The best."

Just...sometimes forgot he didn't always have to make her smile with his so-called "plans".

She beamed at the robot, unaware that behind its cracked-and-hacked circuits sat a man with orange dreads, a wire in his neck, and a headache the size of the entire fucking station.

---

>>There's always a plan.
>>Most times they're brilliant.
>>I am willing to concede
>>this is not one of those times.

"I never should have sent the fucking Fireball." He picked his head off the desk with some effort. Cursing his liquor choices, cursing her ability to take down so much booze on an empty stomach, cursing how much he'd had to add to his firewalls, cursing the fact that despite his having assessed its defenses the safe haven Kreska had proclaimed hadn't been so safe after all. Mostly though, he cursed his own lacking: digging into Kreska's past and present instead of the ownership of the unit, general decision-making skills. Because while he always had plans and many of them were...quirky, he never allowed himself to become so flustered as he did when Sascha was in a bind.

Fear made him sloppy. Fear was not a companion for good code or even passable code, for controlling metal men in dire need of top hats. As if top hats would fix everything. Sometimes it was even hard on breathing, this feeling he got on those rare occasions when he had to force himself outside...to find another, better, fortress of solitude. Fear sucked balls, and not in the yes-baby-yes-like-that-I'm-gonna-blow kind of way.

He set his ocular implant to calculating odds. It was not good. Even with his offer to Grilka--essentially everything, save his Sascha.

"You cannot keep her," the robot said, and bowed ridiculously in a way Fate didn't bother to try to stop. He was having enough trouble monitoring the hallways for returning bounty hunters and drones to bother with overriding the default behavior patterns of the damn thing. "Would you like a scotch? Neat?"

>>He doesn't have any scotch at all
>>In case you're curious
>>Or thirsty

"Leave her head alone," it squawked. "Fish and chips? Fish and chips?"

Fate's fingers twitched over the keys and he stared in dismay at the growing mess before him. So much payment. Favors. Would Grilka accept those, require those, along with the information he was amassing? Would xe send Kreska to him? Or would Fate himself be required to come in person? His jaw set in a grim smile. It would be painful, but compared to having Sascha's brain open on an operating table and thoroughly plundered...he shook his head and the robot read his resulting eyetwitch as "Special today...today's specials are..."

One thing was for sure: if they both survived this, he was cutting off Sascha's fancy booze supply.


RE: Bad Reputation [Closed] - Tindome - 02-24-2016

    Kreska did not bother trying to get up. Not that she'd accepted her place on the floor, but there didn't seem much point to standing when Grilka was in one of eir moods. Specifically, the mood to pick people up and move them around as pleased em.

    She didn't know what it said about Fate that he responded to things she said aloud by typing. She'd done the same, she supposed, but that had been brief and out of courtesy. It wasn't a preference. Less reading was better as a general rule.

    ☠» nah plans goin gr8
    ☠» if the plan was 2 poke a krotazi
    ☠» like w/a stick
    ☠» 4 fun

    Stress and pain and her typing was getting worse in ways that autocorrect could not compensate for, ways she would not bother to fix.

    She was also trying to keep a bit of distance between herself and the droid. In part because she couldn't tell how much control Fate actually had. That seemed like a recipe for getting smacked in the face.

    Grilka cocked eir head to the side as ey considered the bot. "Is your friend having a seizure?" Ey looked to Kreska. "That's what those are called, isn't it?"

    "He's fine." For varying levels of fine. He could type alright, anyhow. Didn't seem like he'd be doing that with a seizure.

    "He must care for you very much," Grilka said sympathetically to Sascha, "to try so very hard." 'Try' being the operative word. "You're so agreeable, Sascha Bennett, I can't say I blame him. Kreska Ido, be useful for once and try to calm him down. I know you'll be bad at it, but try."

    ☠» ay
    ☠» like legit tho
    ☠» u okay
    ☠» do u need a paper bag
    ☠» or candy
    ☠» bc i dont have any

    Eir attention returned to eir holographic display, various tendrils idly petting Sascha's hair and rubbing at her shoulders. "Lots of hunters suggests valuable prey," ey noted. "I wonder if perhaps this has something to do with the incident at Radius? Very bad business, for them." Ey clicked eir teeth. "Very good business for everyone else. I wonder, I wonder."

    "I will fix this," Grilka decided, turning off the display. "Not in general, of course, but this specific clusterfuck. I think perhaps that I owe you a favor, Sascha Bennett, and I would like to know that you are somewhere safe. I think that we should be friends, good friends – if we are not friends already."

    Because really, ey didn't need to know where this useful and well-meaning hacker was if ey knew where to find his most precious thing. And Sascha, she seemed useful, too. This solved so many problems at once. It was a very tidy solution. No one could possibly find fault with it.

    "First you will need to change, because you cannot possibly be seen in that." Tendrils tugged at her makeshift top as another part of eir tail entirely found the neglected bag of clothes. When ey found something ey considered suitable ey offered it to her, making a show of looking in another direction and turning eir tail into a privacy shield. "Get your boots back on, Captain's Daughter."

    "I will carry you to the Southern Quadrant, to sector 17 — they like me very much there, and they will not mind this stolen droid, I think." Ey hummed thoughtfully. "But your friend will need to be careful about what he touches." Southern's sector 17 was the free droid's district, not the most livable by organic standards but certainly safe from most organic threats. An insular and tight-knit community that did not always trust those made of meat, hackers could easily be seen as the least trustworthy of all.

    Still, if safety was paramount, it was hard to find safer. Eyes everywhere with the capacity to instantly report suspicious activity, few had the connections there that Grilka did. And corporate goons didn't dare set foot in the sector, not if they knew what was good for them.

    "I have a friend with a spare room — a bit noisy, his shop, but cozy. You can rest there, relax, yes?"

    "Which friend?" Kreska asked, attempting to maintain some level of responsibility for the woman. She was, indeed, struggling to get her boots back on – the camera once again uncovered, but she no longer cared about that. She was dressed now, after all.

    "Tone-E."

    "Which Tony?" Her response clearly depended on the answer.

    "Tone-E," ey said, emphasizing the last letter as distinct from the first syllable.

    "Oh!" Kreska snorted. "Yeah, nah, they're cool. Motherfucker's great."

    "See?" Grilka said. "They're even nice to Kreska. Imagine how nice they will be to you." Kreska did not even debate that point, nodded with a lift of her brows because it was actually a good point.

    Everything about her was carefully calculated to make her difficult to like. She didn't have any reason to deny it.

    Ey patted Sascha on the head again. "We will all go together, since Kreska cannot carry you, and I do not think your friend will send this silly bot home. He does not trust me, even though you are yours and not his." Ey shrugged, splaying out four hands as if there was nothing ey could do. "But perhaps I will remove its head, if it will not be quiet. When you are rested, Sascha Bennett, we can talk."

    About what she owed, about what he owed, about what they could do for each other while knowing exactly what ey could do to them. Keep him on a leash by keeping her, didn't matter where he hid if he came out every time ey called.

    "And while we are on our way, Kreska will have plenty of time to think about when she wants to go home."

    She scowled at that. "Don' need anymore favors," she muttered, checking to be sure that she was all sorted out, still sitting on the ground and looking yet more petulant for it.