[center] [h1] DOCKING PHASE [/h1] Vague siihouettes blended into wobbling mixtures of uniforms as the masses funneled through one of the many civs of miniscule lines towards the lime glow horizion of the outside world. Armored guards hovered overhead in their great stature, peering from mirroed visors in a warped reflection of every passing face below while cameras continously flashed and beeped green at every passing person. As you were pushed by the line behind you onward one makes an off [color=red][i][b]"EEEEEEHHHHHHH!"[/b][/i][/color]. Screams, scuffles and cries follow as several officers of jagged gold strolled through you all like water. By the time they got to whoever their target was you were pulled too far into the pipeline of proccessing to see what was happening. A flash sends the world white, you hazily percieve a buzzling, twitching digital eye inside a box titled [b]"Check B 23"[/b] it beeped a green light before those behind pushed you to move forward. [i]"Do not step out of line. If you step out of line you are to be escorted back inside the Mammoth by security. Do not hold up the line, purposeful holding up processing is wasteful expenses of party resources. That is a crime"[/i] The voice monlogued this with a tired droll shining through the buzzing mic quality. The hours melted your posture as fatigue set in, you never knew you could get so tired by doing nothing, yet that blooming exit never seeming to get closer. You walked up to check point B 1. A single man wearing a sandy suit with a gold badge sparkling [u][i]"honuary party member"[/i][/u] on its front stoicly sat straight away from you towards an old computer. The computer gave a beeping sound and he tapped at the desk, curtly snapping [i]"Work Contract"[/i] He inspected it with swiping red fizzle of his augmented visor in place of his eyes [i]"You and your crew will be meeting up at dock C-47. You can go" [/i] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [hider=music] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Xoxu_1v1K4[/youtube] [/hider] As you walked into the horizion the floor became more and more metallic and hollow, ringing louder with a thudding clatter as a thin spread of people strode on. The atmosphere had changed, tired, beaten, sweating, sure, but everyone had a mild smile of relief or a bubbling antipation that lifted their cheeks into wide grins. Eyes sparkled as the soft, green light consumed your world into a fizzling haze of shadows. IMMEDIATELY every sense shot at you with the intensity of a flash back. The sounds of shouting, actual shouting, not argueing rigned in the distance as people talked, bargained and even joked with each other. A hum of crowds conversing cackled with the soft but notable ambience of a waterfall, you could even hear the clatter of activity that sent waves of possible events into your head. Smells followed, real smells, food smells, they wiggled up your nostrils like erotic snakes. Sizzling steak that hissed promises, you can feel the juices travel in the air, wet noodles doused spring onions beckoning you forth, a mild sting of curry peppers declaring a challenge. Real food, real market food that you'd be lucky to get even with connections on the Mammoth. Slowly the world blured into an oily spectrum of light before falling together. ---------------------------------------------------------- [img]https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/covers/images/001/032/983/large/derek-weselake-finalbig.jpg?1443927664[/img] ---------------------------------------------------------- Stores! Actual stores! Actual people. Actual space. Actual air. Even the light feels like a soft blanket of solar rays compared to Mammoth. It wasn't clean, it wasn' sterilized, and despite the occasional security officer stomping on patrol it wasn't nearly as controlled. Then he ruined it. Golden medals lining up his jacket, his eyes unnaturally bright and wide, he skin perfectly clear and barely a day over 24. He grinned at you, not a warm grin, the same kind of mild grin you reserve for when the shipment of pens comes in time. An official grin of calculation [i]"I've been...-ATHEM-"[/i] He cuts off and holds up an enevelope with a bulge in it. [i]-"We've been waiting for you. Zetla Crew. This way to dock C-47"[/i] [hider=tags] [@MythicGaming][@Bazmund][@Eyelid][@Starlance][@officaz][@Voltus_Ventus][@datadogie] [/hider] [/center]