ACCESS IDENTIFICATION: TC104-acB4
PASSCODE: **********
WELCOME, T
_> Journal
ACCESSING JOURNAL ENTIRES…
1 Day Ago: RE: I know you’re reading this, Wheelie. I hope you’re enjoying the opera music that piggybacked on your signal. I’m not telling you where it’s hiding, but the entire ship will know when you do.
1 Day Ago: RE: Half strangers, half wankers. Some of these guys are alright, the other guys, however…
1 Day Ago: RE: At least I don’t have to worry about job security in the drone department.
2 Days Ago: RE: I wish I didn’t walk by the docks before taking the job. What. The. Fuck.
3 Days Ago: RE: Arrived on Illium, somewhat nervous about the new job. Been a long time since I’ve been in an organized unit.
_> New Entry
RE: I never want to be this close to these people in a confined space again. Gag.
So, here we are, travelling vast expanses of a mining asteroid turned dystopian boner fuel and I’m starting to think Wheelie and Tia might have had the right idea staying with the ship. This transport is crammed, and it doesn’t help that we somehow managed to cram a krogan in here, who has this shit eating glint in his eye like he’s planning something. If his armour wasn’t sealed, I’d be expecting whatever the fuck they cooked for supper to be turning this compartment into a gas chamber any minute now. Keeping an eye on him, regardless. I have a feeling somebody’s going to be paying for his amusement down the line. I respect that.
About the only people I really know on this little venture are Vellios and Serena. The turian’s been eyefucking anything with tits since we first set down outside the Jalopy, little ol’ me included, but he’s alright. Charming, has a sense of humour, actually fucking does work. More than I can say for most of the shitheels that call this piece of shit ship home.
Serena’s good in my books. Fellow techie, knows her way around machines, even if her introduction was hilariously embarrassing with the exploding drone. It’s oddly endearing. I wonder what’s up with that blueprint she’s got hung up on her workplace, it’s like the pocket protector wearing science nerd counterpart to the Union Jack and old Enfield rifle my family’s passed down for the past few years I’m going to be mounting to the wall when things settle down a bit. She doesn’t like my music, too bad for her. The funny part is, I started listening to the alien metal to annoy the fuck out of my friends back in the service and it started to grow on me, like those shitty pop songs that dominate the music service stations. Either way, it’s like wine or whatever. You get used to it or you don’t, but it keeps people from loitering where I work and that’s the way I like it. Play it loud, shithead.
Mirage is… I don’t know what the fuck to think of him. First time I’ve seen a crippled turian and the guy’s got gimpy legs and a respirator like some kind of B-movie super villain. Only thing he needs is a pet cat or some shit and a volcanic lair with some elaborate death traps and he’s officially a walking… snicker… movie trope. Despite being a gimp, his mind’s sharp and he has a very acidic sense of humour. I like him already, except when he’s fucking bypassing the fucking encryption on my omnitool. It’s a good thing I keep things partitioned behind coded layers of fuck you, because if he really wants to see how deep this rabbit hole goes, he better hope his chair’s got better encryption than the STG intelligence network because motherfucker’s going for a ride.
Tia’s an uptight bitch who seems super paranoid about boogiemen on Omega. She better pull her weight, because I sure as shit don’t want to share profits with somebody who isn’t going to get shot at with us. Maybe someone will try raiding the ship and she’ll heroically save our shit bucket. You know what? I’m just going to tell myself that and hope she’s not rifling through my shit.
Everyone else, well… I don’t really know much about. Alex and Iosef were both ex-Alliance and saw action on Mindoir, so I need to talk to them at some point. I don’t think anyone else will really understand what that was like, the word slaver doesn’t carry much weight until you see what it really means. Mindoir’s effectively shorthand for why my life became so fucked up. Thanks, batarians.
Speaking of which, if I find out our dear four-eyed cunt had anything to do with Mindoir, Mirage is going to have to share custody of that goddamn chair.
And we’re stopped. This is why we don’t let the pilot drive.
-T
_> END
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