The liquid that Lanny had been casually swilling around in his cup had a rather peculiar layer of film to it, that he tried hopelessly to ignore in the midst of his conversation at the bar that day. He knew that the drinks on this dingy outer-rim planet couldn't have been of the highest and most bodily-friendly swills ever created, but he knew that -something- had to be wrong with this one. He held a finger to the man he was previously having a seemingly-pointless chat with, and turned to the Barkeep, swishing the cup at him in an irritated manner. " 'Scuse me, uh...Barkeep. This drink supposed ta' look like you mixed it with Bacon Fat?"
The Barkeep grinned, exposing what little teeth he had left; and of those remaining that appeared to be already on their way out. "Whadd'ya expect for a dirthole bar like this out on th' rim, boy? you expectin' prime alliance suds in diamond glasses?" he gave a wheezing chuckle and returned to cleaning the glasses on the counter top with his murky-white rag. Lanny knew that this place was about as far as far could go in the 'Verse, and he should have known that the folks here had little to no support at all from the other colonies. Having murky swampwater specials should have been the first assumption upon entering this gorram mess in the first place. He huffed, and slapped a few credits from his jacket pocket onto the counter. "Thanks Barkeep. I'll be sure ta' bag up th' results of that grog so ye' can use it in yer' other drinks." he grinned wickedly. Unlike the barkeep's teeth, and their awkward wooden composure, Lanny's teeth were surprisingly clean for a Spacer. As he proceeded to turn for the door, the bouncer yelled to him. "Ansar, you got a call." Lanny blinked, and went to the terminal that was tucked away in the far crevices of the room. He thought to himself: "Aiya, even the gorram PHONE looks like it sank in mud for a week..." He bopped a few buttons on the terminal with his thumb, and an image began to flicker to life in front of him. As he had wanted, it was his next job opportunity. Unfortunately, the image he had wanted to view, was instead replaced by the usual blackened silhouette that all of the Fat-Cats and Head-Honchos of major businesses used to prevent any legal issues.
A few minutes had passed, followed by many exchanges of slang terms, cursing, and grunting before Lanny had begun to shuffle his way back to his ship. Apparently the details of this run were about as shallow as the layer of film on the rim of his former drink, and this made him a tad frustrated. Lanny never enjoyed any job with little details, as they usually lead to unforeseen circumstances, such as gunfights, ship chases, or overall mischief and mayhem. He tried to go over the details in his head. "Okay, so go to Eavesdown, pick up the shipment, and fly it over to..." he blinked and tapped the coordinates onto his ship's navigation. As he had expected, his destination had been set on a small moon in an area that was as close to nowhere as ever. Lanny sighed deeply, and slumped back into his chair with a sour look on his face. "Great...maybe if i'm lucky, they managed to figure out how to make swords and castles by now." He leaned back in to prep his bird to fly. "This all seems too weird. Too. Gorram. Weird."
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
"My Little Robots..." (IC Explanation / Backstory pt. 2)
"Nano...Nan..wha'?" Lanny asked the Alliance doctor within the Medical Wing of the IAV Perseus. It had been a few years since the cruiser had discovered the boy within the husk of his former family's Carrier, and yet the feeling of hopelessness and loneliness had still left a frozen feeling in his heart. The Doctor kneeled down to Lanny, and clasped a latex-gloved hand to his shoulder. "Nanites, Lanny. Everyone aboard your ship had them implanted into their bodies prior to undocking and heading off. Suprisingly, they were only to last the crew a few months before they would deactivate and evaporate into the bloodstream. But you...you are something special."
Lanny blinked rapidly. He had absolutely no idea what the Doctor had meant. It was either the scientific terms he used, or the gigantic words behind it, but it left him utterly puzzled. The Doctor knew this, and sighed. He got up and retrieved a small scalpel from a tray, and put it to Lanny's arm. "Let me show you." and he gave a quick slice to Lanny's skin. The smell of his own blood was unnerving, especially when mixed with the chilling scents of Methanol and Disinfectants that permeated in the Medical Wing. He flinched, and began to whimper, looking down at his arm. The Doctor added "Now, watch."
Lanny looked at his arm, and noticed that the blood from the wound had clotted almost instantly, and within moments, had slowly begun to heal itself back to its original state. It was astounding! How could this type of thing exist? It absolutely puzzled him. Lanny looked to the doctor with a face of sheer astonishment and confusion. "There are many things your parents never told you, Lanny." the Doctor said. He turned back to the drawers of the wing, and produced a small vial of odd-colored liquid, with the emblem of the Alliance in big, bold colors upon the glass. "Your parents' ship had been carrying illegal goods, Lanny. And this was one of them. Only it was in massive quantities. Their only problem with its application was themselves. Their bodies didn't take in the Nanites like they had wanted, and it had only thinned out their blood. You, on the other hand..."
The Doctor huffed, as if he was surprised as well. "You are one of a kind. Not only did your body accept them, but the Nanites themselves began working immediately. This is why you are here. We weren't out hunting Scavengers. We were looking for you. And while you were sleeping, we did every test that we needed."
Lanny couldn't feel any more used. Neither from the 'Feds, OR his own family. He was speechless. Utterly speechless. He was only Sixteen by then, but he personally felt that his entire life at that moment had been exactly how it was...one big Facade.
The Alliance had no need for him any longer, as they usually end up with any "Expendable" good...but they didn't just dump him out onto a random planet. They knew he was special, that he was promising. They needed to keep him going, but at the same time keep off the radar, so he could lead his own life without knowing that he was being pampered by the feds. So he was issued a small Shuttle, his supplies, his clothes, and sent on his way.
-AFTERMATH-
From this point on, Lanny has been a Spacer. A Lone-Wolf. He's been traveling the Outer Rim, searching for jobs, doing tasks, defending decent people...all without realizing that someone in a tucked-away sector of space has been eyeballing him the entire time, letting him do what he pleases. To be honest, that private sector has probably forgotten about him, hence why he's retained a neutral standpoint with the Alliance as a whole. But this occurance also explains why Lanny has been easily capable to heal after a conflict with the Alliance Warbot known as Ravish, and why he's defiant enough to keep comin' back for seconds. His only real concern at the moment is the thoughts that swell in his consciousness. He feels that he may someday end up being exactly like Ravish, or Raids. Another experiment. Another Tool. So alongside his pooling hatred for them, he also feels a sense of...respect, dignity...even honor, for the Warbots. He admires their cold and calculating ways, despite being smashed and shot at by them. And he continues to learn from their actions.
Lanny blinked rapidly. He had absolutely no idea what the Doctor had meant. It was either the scientific terms he used, or the gigantic words behind it, but it left him utterly puzzled. The Doctor knew this, and sighed. He got up and retrieved a small scalpel from a tray, and put it to Lanny's arm. "Let me show you." and he gave a quick slice to Lanny's skin. The smell of his own blood was unnerving, especially when mixed with the chilling scents of Methanol and Disinfectants that permeated in the Medical Wing. He flinched, and began to whimper, looking down at his arm. The Doctor added "Now, watch."
Lanny looked at his arm, and noticed that the blood from the wound had clotted almost instantly, and within moments, had slowly begun to heal itself back to its original state. It was astounding! How could this type of thing exist? It absolutely puzzled him. Lanny looked to the doctor with a face of sheer astonishment and confusion. "There are many things your parents never told you, Lanny." the Doctor said. He turned back to the drawers of the wing, and produced a small vial of odd-colored liquid, with the emblem of the Alliance in big, bold colors upon the glass. "Your parents' ship had been carrying illegal goods, Lanny. And this was one of them. Only it was in massive quantities. Their only problem with its application was themselves. Their bodies didn't take in the Nanites like they had wanted, and it had only thinned out their blood. You, on the other hand..."
The Doctor huffed, as if he was surprised as well. "You are one of a kind. Not only did your body accept them, but the Nanites themselves began working immediately. This is why you are here. We weren't out hunting Scavengers. We were looking for you. And while you were sleeping, we did every test that we needed."
Lanny couldn't feel any more used. Neither from the 'Feds, OR his own family. He was speechless. Utterly speechless. He was only Sixteen by then, but he personally felt that his entire life at that moment had been exactly how it was...one big Facade.
The Alliance had no need for him any longer, as they usually end up with any "Expendable" good...but they didn't just dump him out onto a random planet. They knew he was special, that he was promising. They needed to keep him going, but at the same time keep off the radar, so he could lead his own life without knowing that he was being pampered by the feds. So he was issued a small Shuttle, his supplies, his clothes, and sent on his way.
-AFTERMATH-
From this point on, Lanny has been a Spacer. A Lone-Wolf. He's been traveling the Outer Rim, searching for jobs, doing tasks, defending decent people...all without realizing that someone in a tucked-away sector of space has been eyeballing him the entire time, letting him do what he pleases. To be honest, that private sector has probably forgotten about him, hence why he's retained a neutral standpoint with the Alliance as a whole. But this occurance also explains why Lanny has been easily capable to heal after a conflict with the Alliance Warbot known as Ravish, and why he's defiant enough to keep comin' back for seconds. His only real concern at the moment is the thoughts that swell in his consciousness. He feels that he may someday end up being exactly like Ravish, or Raids. Another experiment. Another Tool. So alongside his pooling hatred for them, he also feels a sense of...respect, dignity...even honor, for the Warbots. He admires their cold and calculating ways, despite being smashed and shot at by them. And he continues to learn from their actions.
"We're the ones that Made you..." (IC Backstory)
Lanny woke up rudely to the sound of the Carrier's pressure alarms whirring and screaming across the halls. It felt like the pressure of a Freight Train crashing at your ears. He swung his head around quickly, trying to locate his parents, or at least the folks that he and his parents shared a bunk with. He was only about Twelve at that point in time, with his birthday quietly approaching. He called out "Maw? Paw?" into the hallways as he poked a head out from the Bunk door. People were everywhere. Rushing, screaming, crying...it was chaos. Sheer terror. He slinked out from the door, and started to hurry down one of the hallways when he was abruptly scooped up by a person that he finally discovered was his Dad, with one arm around him, and a very shoddy rifle in the other. Lanny had absolutely no idea what was to happen, and the fact that Reavers, of all things, had decided to go after the one fully-manned Crew Carrier floating around the Rim. He had no idea at all that his life, among the rest of the passengers, was mere moments from ending.
His father looked down to him as he was dropped off in a small crawlspace to hide. "Lanny, stay 'ere, it's not safe ta' be prancin' around..."
Little did anyone know that those were ol' father Ansar's final words, before he left to only be completely torn apart by the Reavers minutes later, along with his mother. The only remnants that were left were kept around and alive long enough, to let Lanny suffer his own personal damnation.
It was about an hour before Lanny crawled out of that hole, to witness a completely empty, and utterly ghastly ship that reeked an ungodly odor of fetid meat and old gunpowder. And as he walked carefully down the last of the corridors that weren't blown apart or covered in chucks of the crew, he successfully managed to see the image that provided the scar that would slowly pick at his brain forever...
His mother and Father. Or at least a portion of them. Still breathing, all limbs scattered about in broken husks about the deck, chests gouged open like a satanic science experiment. They had been laying there for a few minutes now, gasping and panting, coughing the last remaining ounces of blood they had left within them. Beside their former selves sat a Handgun. A P228 Compact , from a time long ago, that his father had kept proudly as a collector's item. It lie snugly beside his mangled torso, with his hand firmly grapsed upon the grip, and three rounds still in it. Lanny's father looked to his son for what would be the final time for the both of them, as his mother suddenly gave her last struggled breath in the corner and left them both.
Lanny had no choice. He had to end his father's suffering. It was the only right thing to do. And it struck his soul like a Sledgehammer to a Cheap Dresser. He picked up the Pistol from the ground, removing his father's hand, and pointed the barrel directly at him, for his head. The Handgun shook violently in his hand, and he did his very best not to sob, which led to him jerking the weapon when he least expected it and placing a bullet directly into his now-deceased father's temple. Lanny sank to the ground immediately and sobbed
An Alliance Cruiser passed by many days later, after getting reports of salvagers and Scavengers attempting to pick at the ship. When their routine search was finished, Lanny was found huddled up in the corner of the ship's Mess Hall.Life Support aboard the ship was gradually failing, alongside auxillary power and the Oxygen filters. If that Cruiser hadn't of shown up at that point, He would've been Frozen Solid purple within the hour.
-AFTERMATH-
It's been about a Decade or so since that day. Lanny has begun to overshadow the thoughts of it from his head, and luckily nobody has yet to ask him about his past, or his life whatsoever. He has seen his travels and his jobs as a natural thing, feeling that the bleak and empty landscape of the Outer Rim worlds are...Serene, and peaceful. It's probably the reason why he prefers Hale's Moon. It's...empty. But lately he has been troubled, noticing that the Alliance has been sending ships to the Colony, among which, a Warbot that he has been encountering since Day 1 of his arrival. If he were just some normal Civilian, he would most likely be in a Shallow Grave by now. But luckily, due to his travelling, his learned knowledge, and the cold, numb feeling he had acquired from his past, he has been fully capable of confronting the 'Bot. Sometimes by himself. He treats everyone he can with respect, as long as it is repaid in kind, and tries to find reasonable solutions to his problems, if a gunfight can be avoided. The fights themselves appear to tick off something in his brain, to where he seems to enter a trance-like state, like an Auto-Pilot. It takes him back to the day his parents died and the Reavers slaughtered his ship, except now he's Twenty-five, and carrying an Assault Rifle. And those shooting at him suddenly become the things that killed his parents...
His father looked down to him as he was dropped off in a small crawlspace to hide. "Lanny, stay 'ere, it's not safe ta' be prancin' around..."
Little did anyone know that those were ol' father Ansar's final words, before he left to only be completely torn apart by the Reavers minutes later, along with his mother. The only remnants that were left were kept around and alive long enough, to let Lanny suffer his own personal damnation.
It was about an hour before Lanny crawled out of that hole, to witness a completely empty, and utterly ghastly ship that reeked an ungodly odor of fetid meat and old gunpowder. And as he walked carefully down the last of the corridors that weren't blown apart or covered in chucks of the crew, he successfully managed to see the image that provided the scar that would slowly pick at his brain forever...
His mother and Father. Or at least a portion of them. Still breathing, all limbs scattered about in broken husks about the deck, chests gouged open like a satanic science experiment. They had been laying there for a few minutes now, gasping and panting, coughing the last remaining ounces of blood they had left within them. Beside their former selves sat a Handgun. A P228 Compact , from a time long ago, that his father had kept proudly as a collector's item. It lie snugly beside his mangled torso, with his hand firmly grapsed upon the grip, and three rounds still in it. Lanny's father looked to his son for what would be the final time for the both of them, as his mother suddenly gave her last struggled breath in the corner and left them both.
Lanny had no choice. He had to end his father's suffering. It was the only right thing to do. And it struck his soul like a Sledgehammer to a Cheap Dresser. He picked up the Pistol from the ground, removing his father's hand, and pointed the barrel directly at him, for his head. The Handgun shook violently in his hand, and he did his very best not to sob, which led to him jerking the weapon when he least expected it and placing a bullet directly into his now-deceased father's temple. Lanny sank to the ground immediately and sobbed
An Alliance Cruiser passed by many days later, after getting reports of salvagers and Scavengers attempting to pick at the ship. When their routine search was finished, Lanny was found huddled up in the corner of the ship's Mess Hall.Life Support aboard the ship was gradually failing, alongside auxillary power and the Oxygen filters. If that Cruiser hadn't of shown up at that point, He would've been Frozen Solid purple within the hour.
-AFTERMATH-
It's been about a Decade or so since that day. Lanny has begun to overshadow the thoughts of it from his head, and luckily nobody has yet to ask him about his past, or his life whatsoever. He has seen his travels and his jobs as a natural thing, feeling that the bleak and empty landscape of the Outer Rim worlds are...Serene, and peaceful. It's probably the reason why he prefers Hale's Moon. It's...empty. But lately he has been troubled, noticing that the Alliance has been sending ships to the Colony, among which, a Warbot that he has been encountering since Day 1 of his arrival. If he were just some normal Civilian, he would most likely be in a Shallow Grave by now. But luckily, due to his travelling, his learned knowledge, and the cold, numb feeling he had acquired from his past, he has been fully capable of confronting the 'Bot. Sometimes by himself. He treats everyone he can with respect, as long as it is repaid in kind, and tries to find reasonable solutions to his problems, if a gunfight can be avoided. The fights themselves appear to tick off something in his brain, to where he seems to enter a trance-like state, like an Auto-Pilot. It takes him back to the day his parents died and the Reavers slaughtered his ship, except now he's Twenty-five, and carrying an Assault Rifle. And those shooting at him suddenly become the things that killed his parents...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)