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I am Spartacus!
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2 yrs ago
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โ€œNO!โ€ Lyn yelled as she jerked away. Her gaze shot to the left and right, body tense and ready for action, before she remembered where she was. She took a few shuddering breaths, feeling the tension slowly seep out of her body. She realized that she must have taken a nap at her desk at some point after having spoken to Eimi; only an hour had passed since she had spoken to the younger woman.

She shuddered again as she remembered parts of her dream. She could still feel the warmth of blood on her hands. She was still haunted by that day. Why wouldnโ€™t she?

Taking a deep breath, Lyn placed her revolver and gun cleaning supplies on the desk before her. Her revolver didnโ€™t need to be cleaned, she had done so yesterday and hadnโ€™t fired it since, but doing so had become something of a relaxing ceremony of sorts she performed every time she had that nightmare. She had cleaned the revolver so much as of late that she was afraid she would damage it, such as US Marines were prone to over cleaning their own firearms.

Her mind drifted about as her hands performed the intimately familiar actions of cleaning her revolver. Why did Eimi hate her so much? Perhaps hate was too strong of a word, but Lyn had definitely sensed a strong degree of dislike from the younger woman. Certainly it wasnโ€™t just because Lyn was bad with technology and Eimi should be at the tail end of the teenage moody years, if not past them entirely. If anything Lyn would have expected Eimi to seek some sort of friendship with her if only because Xaara, the only other woman on the crew, seemed intent on being as distant from everyone else as possible. Was it because she was an ex-cop? Did that make her some sort of symbol of authority that Eimi found repulsive? Lyn set her cleaning tools down as she sighed.

If anyone disliked her because of her previous career, she would have expected it to have been Poole. He wasโ€ฆ an enigma to her. Lynโ€™s hands began to reassemble her revolver as thoughts of Poole brought a deeper frown to her face. She wasnโ€™t sure if he liked her, liked her, or was waiting for the opportunity to rip her head off. That worried her. A lot. He was a reformed felon, but not in the sense that he never wanted to hurt a living thing again, even a fly. No, he was certainly still more than happy to inflict pain when he deemed it appropriate. Instead he had fallen into religion. Strange man indeed.

Having finished reassembling her revolver, she looked it over with a critical eye, checking the action and every working part. It wouldnโ€™t be funny if she had forgotten to put something back in while her mind roamed. Satisfied with her work, she returned it to its rightful place at her waist and headed towards the door. Perhaps she would give her motorcycle another shotโ€ฆ

The sight that greeted her upon reaching the cargo bay caused one of her eyebrows to shoot up. Lyn had never pegged Jeremiah to be the proactive sort, yet here he was working on her bike. Was it that the engineer in him couldnโ€™t stand seeing her bike in pieces or was he simply trying to distract himself from what must have been a horrid hangover? Whichever it was, Lyn was content to watch, for a time. She leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed in front of her, as she watched him at work.

โ€œYou sort of remind me of my dadโ€ She finally spoke up after a few minutes. โ€œHe wouldโ€™ve worked for days on end if my mother and I hadnโ€™t bothered him with the likes of dinner and needing to sleep.โ€ She felt her earlier frown fade away into a smile as her thoughts turned towards home.
โ€œDamn itโ€ Lynnette muttered under her breath for the fifth time that hour. She practically growled at the object of frustration before her before standing to stretch her back. Of course it couldnโ€™t have been an easy fix. She wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a long black smear of grease and oil in its place.

She had originally thought that the problem with her bike had been its spark plugs. A simple enough fix. An hour later she had torn half the engine apart and still couldnโ€™t figure out what was wrong. She let out a long sigh. At least she had given it her all. Still she wasnโ€™t about to give up. And why would she when a wealth of information could be found via the internet.

โ€œDamn itโ€ She said for the sixth time as she grabbed her tablet, leaving a bit of grease on its case. She would have to clean it off later. She turned the device on and began a search for her problem. Oddly enough the device was slow, painfully so. After a few minutes she turned the thing off and let out a long sigh.

โ€œGreat. What else could go wrong?โ€ She asked the empty cargo room. Unsurprisingly there was no answer. She let out a second sigh, realizing she had three options. She could give up. Not really a long term solution so that was out. She could ask Jeremiah for help; he was the shipโ€™s engineer after all. That didnโ€™t seem like such a smart idea to her as he was so drunk that he probably couldnโ€™t find anything not physically attached to him. That left option three.

โ€œDamn itโ€ She muttered for the seventh time as she started off towards Eimiโ€™s room. The teen would probably mock her for messing up the device again. She couldnโ€™t help it! Every computer she touched eventually got bogged down with viruses or random errors. It wasnโ€™t like she was watching porn on them; no one could figure out what she was doing to cause the problems, but they always occurred. It was why there was an unofficial rule that she couldnโ€™t use any computer that controlled the shipโ€™s systems.

She quickened her pace as Xaara made her announcement. Lynโ€™s bike was secured in place, meaning it wasnโ€™t liable to damage anything in the hold, but various parts of it werenโ€™t. She would want to stow them somewhere soon so she didnโ€™t lose anything important.

โ€œHey Eimi?โ€ She asked after reaching the girlโ€™s room, knocking on the door. โ€œCan you help me with my tabletโ€ฆ again?โ€
Lynnnette sighed as Jeremiah ran out of the bar, ignoring the bartenderโ€™s shouts about payment. โ€œDonโ€™t worry,โ€ She said, โ€œIโ€™ll cover him.โ€

โ€œAt least one of you lot are decentโ€ The bartender said with a grunt as she placed enough bills on the counter to pay or not only herโ€™s and Jeremiahโ€™s drinks, but a bit extra.

โ€œHmmmโ€ฆ.โ€ She frowned. โ€œIโ€™m not sure decent is a word Iโ€™d use to describe myself.โ€ The bartender raised an eyebrow and seemed about to respond when Quayhoggr started off on what could only be a drug induced rant.

โ€œDecent relatively speaking?โ€ The bartender asked, which earned him a grunt in reply. โ€œDo you want to fix this mess?โ€ He gestured at Quayhoggr as a pair of bounced moved towards him.

โ€œNah.โ€ Lynnette rose from her seat. โ€œIโ€™m not drunk enough to stick my nose into that mess.โ€ She wasnโ€™t drunk at all. The bartenderโ€™s parting words to her was drowned out by Quayhoggr and the bouncers as Lynnette made her exit.

โ€œWell shit.โ€ She muttered as she caught sight of the scene playing out before her. Of course Jeremiah had gotten into trouble with the bouncers. That she had been expecting. What she hadnโ€™t expected to see was Eimi pommeling one of the bouncerโ€™s into submission. It was impressive, frightening, and exasperating all at the same time. She might have been able to talk the bouncers down were it not for Eimi. She had paid the bill after all.

She let out a soft sigh as she skirted around the edge of the confrontation, seriously considering simply ignoring the scene and moving on. As much as it pained her to admit it, she sort of wanted Jeremiah to get roughed up a bit. Perhaps itโ€™d help ensure that he would actually pay the next time they went drinking. But no, she couldnโ€™t just walk away as Jeremiah had the crap beaten out of him.

โ€œBillโ€™s been paidโ€ She loudly stated as she stepped in behind one of the bouncers, causing him to pause momentarily. Big mistake. Lynnette kicked him in the back of the knee, sending him toppling to the ground. He had barely hit the pavement before she had hopped onto of him, using her weight to keep him pinned. Granted that wouldnโ€™t keep him down for long; even if she wasnโ€™t as light as she was, the bouncer definitely had the strength needed to shrug her off. Even so it would keep him down for a moment or two.

She launched a kick from atop her perch at a second bouncer, hitting him in the side. He staggered slightly before turning towards her and letting out a low growl. For a moment she thought he was going to tackle her, or try to at least, but instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife, a wide smile spreading across his face. Lynnette looked at the knife, a single eyebrow rising. โ€œReally?โ€ She asked, โ€œYou had to escalate this?โ€

โ€œDrop it.โ€ She said as she drew her revolver and aimed it at his chest. The color drained from his face as he realized he had made a terrible mistake. โ€œWell?โ€ She prompted. The bouncer dropped his knife and held his hands to the side. โ€œNow why donโ€™t you go back inside and weโ€™ll both pretend this never happened, ok?โ€ The bouncer nodded enthusiastically. โ€œGood. How about you big guy?โ€ She tapped the bouncer she was standing on with her foot.โ€

โ€œEat street bitch.โ€

โ€œI didnโ€™t hear a no.โ€

The bouncer grumbled some less that polite things before saying โ€œYea, fine. Just get off of me already.โ€ Lynnette stepped off of him and out of range, making sure to keep both bouncers in eyesight as they headed back into the bar.

With that out of the way she turned back to Jeremiah and Eimi to see how they were doing. She wouldnโ€™t help them with their own opponents, unless things were likely to turn serious.
โ€œSo there I am, sitting in my patrol car, when my partner radios in โ€˜I think I just saw a cardboard box move.โ€™ And I tell him to stop screwing around and look for the perp.โ€ Lynnette said with a wide smile on her face, one that was almost mirrored by the large freighter pilot she was chatting with. โ€œAnd next thing I see is a cardboard box run out of the alleyway with my partner in close pursuit!โ€ The pilot chuckled before taking a sip of beer. When Lynnette had first approached the man she had struggled to elicit any response from him whatsoever. After a few minutes, whether because of her charm, her being a woman, or simply because he wanted someone to speak to the pilot had quickly warmed up to her. She had been hoping that he might have heard rumor of pirates or something else that could lead to the crewโ€™s next job, but no such luck. After their last screw up they could use a straightforward job.

โ€œWellโ€ฆโ€ She said as she rose to her feet, putting the pilot on the back, โ€œI better return to my friends.โ€

โ€œYea. Catch you around.โ€ The pilot raised his beer in salute.

She gave the man a second pat before turning back to her crewmates, her smile becoming slightly strained. Despite her jovial appearance, she felt especially bad about the botched job. She had made a career of catching criminals and bringing them in alive and had been damned good at it. If anyone was at fault, it was her. She knew that it was truly impossible to completely guard against a detainee committing suicide, but it was very easy to make it much harder to do. She hadnโ€™t even stood guard, instead allowing Quayhoggr to stare at the man like some sort of creep. If anything it was that which caused their prisoner to commit suicide.

โ€œWhy donโ€™t you put a shot or two of vodka in that milk?โ€ She suggested when the man occupying her thoughts ordered a drink for himself and Jeremiah. โ€œIโ€™ll even pay.โ€ She wiggled her eyebrows at him. In all honestly she just wanted to see what the man was like with a little alcohol in his system. She settled into the seat next to Jeremiah, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

โ€œMaybe you should make this your last glass, eh?โ€ She asked the engineer. He seemed a bitโ€ฆ off. She decided not to think about it with a mental shrug. It was probably just the sum of his drinks and the groupโ€™s screw up eating away at him. โ€œIโ€™d love it if you were cognizant enough to play some poker later so I can take your money.โ€
I vote for a chatroom, but I won't cry myself to sleep every night if it doesn't happen. =P
What's our game plan for getting this show on the road?
@DeadbeatWalking Does that like mean I'm good?
Alright, well I beefed up my backstory just a bit. I don't want to reveal exactly how the death that later resulted in her leaving the police force occurred, but I added and changed some details of what happened after that. Hopefully that'll be enough for now.

@DeadbeatWalking What's up? Have you abandoned this?
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