[right][sub][color=1f1c1c][b]COLLAB:[/b] [@Briza] - [@Darkspleen] - [@Goldeagle1221][/color][/sub][/right]
[indent][indent][color=934641][h3]Ｅ ｉ ｍ ｉ  Ｎ ｏ ｘ[/h3][/color][/indent][/indent]

[quote][i]At first glance it would have been easy to mistake the woman who appeared on the screen as Lynnette. If one was ignoring her lack of albino features that it. Still she had such a similar appearance that she could have passed for a twin, were she not a few years younger than Lynnette. The woman, Jill, smiled at the screen before speaking.

“Sis, how are you doing? Mom and Dad have been pestering me to check in on you,” she crossed her arms in front of her, the motion drawing attention to her ample chest which might have been slightly larger than Lynnette’s. Whereas Lynnette was clearly comfortable with her body, her sister seemed to enjoy flaunting hers.

“Why don’t you consider coming home, Sis? Maybe settle down?” Jill continued, “I know you enjoy playing detective or bounty hunter or whatever it is you call yourself nowadays, but don’t you think you’re a bit old to be playing games?” Jill seemed to enjoy throwing that barb out, even if she couldn’t she her reaction, “Mom has been especially insistent about wanting to have some grandchildren lately.” Jill continued, “And you know Rick and I don’t want kids.” The way she spoke made it sound like having children was somehow below her, “So well…” It was the first time since the recording began that Jill hesitated. “Why don’t you come back home? I’ll help you get a job as a security guard at my company. Or something. Consider it won’t you? And give our parents a call! Well I gotta go. Bye!”[/i][/quote]

[i]That was it?[/i]  Eimi felt her eyebrow twitch involuntarily, motivating a small twinge in her cheek as her lips mustered a sheepish smile of disgust, articulating the silent thoughts crossing through her mind.  She closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh of annoyance.  [i]There were two of them.[/i]  Eimi leaned back in her bed, letting the tablet rest on her abdomen.  The payment for this job was excruciatingly low paying, and for all it was worth, the snooping she was about to get for all the times she has fixed and ever will fix Lynnette’s electronic woes brought absolutely nothing more to the motivation of why Eimi worked on [i]The Magnitude.[/i]  Lynnette’s problems seemed so basic, like a  starter character in some fighting game.  Boring.  At least, until that one geeky guy came along and started schooling everyone in how the primary colors were the only real colors that should be visible in a painting like some Neoplastic Supremacist.  Except, this was not some outdated form of art that only Poole might have been able to appreciate.  It was video gaming.  What was a fighting game with only starter characters? Lame.  Extremely lame.  Just like this video Eimi had watched of [i]Lynnette’s Pair of Sister Tits.[/i]

Lynnette was almost like the opposite of Eimi.  She was extremely perky for not having settled down yet, despite her age. Both meanings of the word, [i]perky[/i] applied. Eimi on the other hand, barely had a handful for grabbing, and she was definitely not comfortable with her relationship status. It was not as if she was [i]insecure,[/i] but she was definitely not [i]happy[/i] about it, either.  [i]At least, I know how to work a fucking piece of technology.[/i]  Eimi lifted the tablet, again.  The screen had gone to sleep in those quick moments, and her fingers swiped and pressed the code: [i]p - i - z - z - a[/i] onto the screen.  She played the video monotonously two times over as if over-analyzing the particulars of [i]Jill’s[/i] body language and what she said.  But each time, all Eimi could duly note was almost the exact same thing: Boobs.

[color=934641][center]★   ★   ★[/center][/color]
[color=934641]“Jerry,”[/color] Eimi knocked on Jeremiah’s door.  His wallet was tucked nicely into her pants' pocket. Her blazer was unfortunately, for this L.C.P. Mission, out of commission -- no thanks to her reckless head bashing and poor use of sticky fingers, which were about to release their goods back to the starving public.

"Uh huh," a bodiless voice joined the cacophony of the engine on the other side. There was a couple steps, a bang, a few beeping sounds accompanied by taps and with a final [i]WHIIIRRRR[/i], the door slid open. Jeremiah stood in a baggy T-shirt and comfy pants, despite under his eyes looking a little tired, his face showed an active energy, and there was a flush to his cheeks.

The flat attitude Eimi had  presented at the door slowly shifted to something less deadpan and a  little more unsettled as the notably oddish sounds rattling disorderly like some rat's nest.  Her eyes squinted at the site of Jeremiah -- ratty in his appearance yet smiling as usual.

"'Sup, techy," He grinned as he leaned against the doorframe, "Need more wire?"

[i]What a loser.[/i]  [color=934641]"You dropped this on Mars,"[/color] Eimi pulled his wallet from her pocket. The worn material was held in front of him, [color=934641]"Here."[/color]
 
Jeremiah's grin faded at the sight of the wallet, "Oh."
 
He slowly took it from her and flipped it over in his hand, letting the bottom hang open. His eye's quickly scanned the contents, "Geez," he said after a moment, still studying the wallet, "Well thanks, Eimi."  He looked back up and slid the wallet into his PJ's pocket, "'Preciate it."
 
Eimi carefully watched as Jeremiah clumsily handled his wallet, which made sense.  There really wasn't much in it, supposedly. At this point in time, Eimi was pretty sure the only way Jeremiah had ever made it this far in life was through pure accidental fluke.  He was an anomaly. She as also uncertain why she had even returned the piece of crap in the first place, [color=934641]"So, Michael Jericho?"[/color]
 
"'Scuse me?" Jeremiah tilted his head.
 
[color=934641]"Why'd you choose the name, 'Michael Jericho'?"[/color]
 
Jeremiah lifted his wallet and opened it. He looked down and used his thumb to slide through the many cards, from credit to I.D's of varying clearance. Idly he shrugged, "You saw that, huh?"
 
[color=934641]"I have no idea what you're talking about,"[/color] Eimi suggested sarcastically.
 
Jeremiah nodded slowly, "Me either." His tone was unusually serious, but a glint of worry was in his eyes.

[color=934641]"I was being sarcastic, Jerry.  Why do you need all those fake I.D.'s?"[/color] Eimi folded her arms.  He wasn't an idiot, after all.  Xaara knew better than to hire an idiot.  Of course, every crew needed a village idiot.  Maybe that title belonged to Deevee (or was it Lynnette?).

"It's a brutal system out there full of people who don't like people in this line of work," Jeremiah looked up at Eimi, "That's a good enough reason if you ask me."

Eimi nodded in agreeance.  It was a sensible answer, [color=934641]"So, why Michael Jericho?"[/color]

"It's fun and stupid, and no one is going to miss a Mike," Jeremiah offered one of his grins.

[color=934641]"It is a pretty trumpetering name,"[/color] Eimi unfolded her arms and shifted her face, bored with the conversation.  

"Why do you care?" Jeremiah studied her face, "It's just a name."

[color=934641]"It's not a forgettable name that's for sure,"[/color] she pointed out, extending his comment on the named Mike, gaining slight interest in the conversation again.

"Next time I'm out shopping for fake I.D's I'll find a better one," Jeremiah quickly rebuttled. 

[color=934641]"Well, Jeremiah [i]Jeri[/i]cho,"[/color] Eimi tilted her head, cocking it slightly as she looked upwards,  [color=934641]"I would've expected someone going through the extra effort to get a fake I.D. to use a little more common sense than a rebellious grade school punk,"[/color] her body rested on her sight leg as she continued studying him.  The door was open, and Jeremiah was making it more awkward.  Maybe, she wanted to have more respect for the guy, considering his reputation did have some snag on her own, being her crew-mate and all, or maybe breaking through walls was a die hard habit.

A flash of anger filmed over Jeremiah's eyes as he clutched his wallet, "Thanks for the wallet."

Taking a step back there was a soft beep and the door slid closed. Jeremiah looked down at his wallet, an angry frown on his face as he flipped through the many cards of "Jeremiah Strong" until he came to a single card labeled "Michael Jericho". He stared at it, the white sheen had turned yellow with age, and a group of numbers were long since smudged to be unreadable, yet he still mouthed them as his eyes moved down the line.

He let a hot breath out of his nostrils as he turned to his room, the engine coils flashing blue. With a flick of his wrist he sent the card through the air, the emblazoned name flashing one last time as it caught the light before colliding with the protective screen of one of the coils. It bounced off the screen and into a crevice, a flash of fire spitting out for a split second as Jeremiah Strong simply stared.

Eimi watched as the door shut, concealing Jeremiah's quick burst of anger. She took a step back, a little offended the guy didn't want to chat anymore.  [i]God, he's more sensitive than those loser gamer kids.[/i] She was also peeved that Lynnette had probably breached more about Jeremiah than she had. Although, he [i]did[/i] look pretty angry, and Eimi wasn't sure she had ever seen him anymore than aloof or tired.  So, she decided to call the conversation a win even if it felt more like a loss.  Jeremiah probably lost more than she did.  So yeah, it was a win.