This was not some cheesy alien horror flick, no monster popped out from the vent overhead to tear Zasz's head off of his shoulders. In fact, he continued on his way back with an expected lull in affairs. There was no pause in retracing his own bloodied footprints with an almost reckless abandon, though not so rushed that he did not stop to pick up the little bit of hardware he'd left hacking the data banks of the Diem Vuong all this time. At this point he was not certain he wanted whatever the tool had gathered for him, but it was all there in storage for him to parse out later. While he had verbally mentioned venting the ship back into space, whether or not that was actually going to happen was another conversation entirely. The quick answer was yes, he would. Right now? Probably not. Credits made Zasz take more than a few risks in his adventures.
He had no desire to talk to Rocket in all honesty. Both of their personalities simply clashed too frequently to warrant anything other than a business relationship. What he would do is send her a voice clip, short and sweet to give her the option of a meetup. Several tonal blips from within his helm and the comm line was established.
"Rocket, I have some salvage that might be worth scavenging for parts. It's a real mess though, can't quite say what tore it apart in the first place, but whatever did left everyone on board about as mangled as their ship. The whole thing could be a crap shoot, but you never know. If you're down, reply, if not then leave it be and I'll get rid of the blasted craft myself." A brief pause as Zasz remembered other mattered he needed to discuses came up. "By the way I have an invoice of repairs that I need done in the near future. I'm on a job currently, so the priority is low."
Click
That was it, the entirety of his message to the rough talking mechanic with a vice like grip that could compete with his own as well as a jarring temperament to boot. The one sided dialogue did bring to light insight to the constant state of disrepair of The Greenhouse. Almost always was there some sort of breakdown in the massive prison cruiser. A coolant leakage here, damaged stabilizers there; by far the most work went into those customized containment facilities. While each and every one of the poor souls he captured were in all terms trapped, they were not mistreated or put into less than satisfactory living arrangements.
There was the landmark of his breach, two halves of a male spread across opposite sides of the corridor, and it still brought disgust to his hidden features over the supposed haul he had hoped to gain. Zasz may have not been the one to win an award for being morally sound, far from it really. The hunter did have standards though, guidelines for how he treated others, and he was no psychopath ripping and beating into the flesh of others for pleasure. That said, business always came first, having he sent off a great many number of marks to people that wanted to do only the most horrific of deeds. Personally he never crossed over that threshold in his personal dealings.
Treated to the sight of his hanger bay, which this pile of junk fit rather snug in, he'd hop over the edge to make the reasonable drop to the grated steel below. The weight of his suit left little chance for those sound dampeners to cover up the impact, the force reverberating all around and through his form. Zasz was an augmented amalgamation of various tech though, never quite satisfied with how his body performed on a day to day basis. Cranial implants to regulate neurotransmitter production, modifications to his skeletal structure to strengthen his resistance to his armor's natural wear on an average body, outright ocular replacements; the separation between man and machine was a fine line danced by the slaver. At this stage in the transition, he wasn't sure if he could even fully remove himself from his enclosure; it had been years since he last tried. Tried being the key word.
Rising from his knees, Zasz turned to return to the upper levels of his home. The elevator still the lone means to get to the flight deck without crawling through maintenance tunnels, which with his size was nigh impossible. As if to spite the low score the prospector had given to the damaged goods, a lengthy support rod snapped off, barely held on to begin with from repeated structural degradation. Were it not for a spherical sensor around his suit to determine threats that his eyes could not, he'd have likely taken a crushing blow. Instead, his muscles moved on autopilot, controlled by the the wiring imbedded into his figure from his suit to go about the best course of action to protect the host. All of this was a fancy way of describing a tumble forward to evade a pillar of solid metal crunching through the floor plates before getting stuck upright at a slight angle. Heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, Zasz always ached after such an impromptu kick in from his augments, but he was unharmed. More upset was he over the fact that he now needed to amend his repair request to Rocket to include this incident. However, it probably did aid in distracting the man from another clash from the opposite end of the vessel.
Instead, he carried on towards the elevator doors, still open from prior use. The ship still had at least an hour of warp to go through, perhaps he could read another chapter in his book? Back to the wall of the cramped box, his gaze was on the Diem Vuong in all of its shame. What a waste of his efforts.
Door closing, a hysterical laugh echoed the spacious hangar, and diligently his auditory analyzer picked up on it almost immediately. Zooming in on the pile of rubbish the noise originated from he could see a lithe frame intermixed within.
Someone had survived.
This had not been one of those fight or flight moments for Zasz. Unfortunately for him, there was no way for him to bolt out of now shut doors. "Well I'll be dammed." A sharp clang of his hands roughly colliding against the immobile entrance. Patience was a virtue, or so they said, and typically Zasz had it in spades. Right now though, there was an intruder on board. Regardless of the fact that he had brought them to him, or even if they were of no physical threat. This was cause for alarm.
He'd be counting the two minutes by each second that it took for the ride up, then back down.
He had no desire to talk to Rocket in all honesty. Both of their personalities simply clashed too frequently to warrant anything other than a business relationship. What he would do is send her a voice clip, short and sweet to give her the option of a meetup. Several tonal blips from within his helm and the comm line was established.
"Rocket, I have some salvage that might be worth scavenging for parts. It's a real mess though, can't quite say what tore it apart in the first place, but whatever did left everyone on board about as mangled as their ship. The whole thing could be a crap shoot, but you never know. If you're down, reply, if not then leave it be and I'll get rid of the blasted craft myself." A brief pause as Zasz remembered other mattered he needed to discuses came up. "By the way I have an invoice of repairs that I need done in the near future. I'm on a job currently, so the priority is low."
Click
That was it, the entirety of his message to the rough talking mechanic with a vice like grip that could compete with his own as well as a jarring temperament to boot. The one sided dialogue did bring to light insight to the constant state of disrepair of The Greenhouse. Almost always was there some sort of breakdown in the massive prison cruiser. A coolant leakage here, damaged stabilizers there; by far the most work went into those customized containment facilities. While each and every one of the poor souls he captured were in all terms trapped, they were not mistreated or put into less than satisfactory living arrangements.
There was the landmark of his breach, two halves of a male spread across opposite sides of the corridor, and it still brought disgust to his hidden features over the supposed haul he had hoped to gain. Zasz may have not been the one to win an award for being morally sound, far from it really. The hunter did have standards though, guidelines for how he treated others, and he was no psychopath ripping and beating into the flesh of others for pleasure. That said, business always came first, having he sent off a great many number of marks to people that wanted to do only the most horrific of deeds. Personally he never crossed over that threshold in his personal dealings.
Treated to the sight of his hanger bay, which this pile of junk fit rather snug in, he'd hop over the edge to make the reasonable drop to the grated steel below. The weight of his suit left little chance for those sound dampeners to cover up the impact, the force reverberating all around and through his form. Zasz was an augmented amalgamation of various tech though, never quite satisfied with how his body performed on a day to day basis. Cranial implants to regulate neurotransmitter production, modifications to his skeletal structure to strengthen his resistance to his armor's natural wear on an average body, outright ocular replacements; the separation between man and machine was a fine line danced by the slaver. At this stage in the transition, he wasn't sure if he could even fully remove himself from his enclosure; it had been years since he last tried. Tried being the key word.
Rising from his knees, Zasz turned to return to the upper levels of his home. The elevator still the lone means to get to the flight deck without crawling through maintenance tunnels, which with his size was nigh impossible. As if to spite the low score the prospector had given to the damaged goods, a lengthy support rod snapped off, barely held on to begin with from repeated structural degradation. Were it not for a spherical sensor around his suit to determine threats that his eyes could not, he'd have likely taken a crushing blow. Instead, his muscles moved on autopilot, controlled by the the wiring imbedded into his figure from his suit to go about the best course of action to protect the host. All of this was a fancy way of describing a tumble forward to evade a pillar of solid metal crunching through the floor plates before getting stuck upright at a slight angle. Heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, Zasz always ached after such an impromptu kick in from his augments, but he was unharmed. More upset was he over the fact that he now needed to amend his repair request to Rocket to include this incident. However, it probably did aid in distracting the man from another clash from the opposite end of the vessel.
Instead, he carried on towards the elevator doors, still open from prior use. The ship still had at least an hour of warp to go through, perhaps he could read another chapter in his book? Back to the wall of the cramped box, his gaze was on the Diem Vuong in all of its shame. What a waste of his efforts.
Door closing, a hysterical laugh echoed the spacious hangar, and diligently his auditory analyzer picked up on it almost immediately. Zooming in on the pile of rubbish the noise originated from he could see a lithe frame intermixed within.
Someone had survived.
This had not been one of those fight or flight moments for Zasz. Unfortunately for him, there was no way for him to bolt out of now shut doors. "Well I'll be dammed." A sharp clang of his hands roughly colliding against the immobile entrance. Patience was a virtue, or so they said, and typically Zasz had it in spades. Right now though, there was an intruder on board. Regardless of the fact that he had brought them to him, or even if they were of no physical threat. This was cause for alarm.
He'd be counting the two minutes by each second that it took for the ride up, then back down.
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RE: Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - by Ghostly - 04-06-2017, 01:37 AM
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