POOHEAD189

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Neil raised an eyebrow with a debonair flair and leaned in closer, but despite his body language, something made him hesitate.

What?

No. No, this kind of thing only happens in a dream or a commercial on the holovids. Bad ones too. The commercials, not the dreams. The dreams are usually good. But this was not something that just happened. Neil knew he was cute, handsome even, at least on good days. But just some... some spacer babe showing up and flirting with him? I mean, he wouldn't say no, and he had to ignore the alarm bells. But they were really loud. So loud he wouldn't be surprised if they were audible to others. But he looked at her, and his anatomy took over, the blood seeping from his brain to his lower half. And her outfit was so tight, and her body was so full, and her face was so fucking cute.

He put his hand on his mouth and squinted at her, a knowing smile growing on his face. "You seem like a Callisto girl," he said, referring to the relatively popular, sleek interplanetary transport brand of starship that were renowned for their maneuverability and style. The front of the transport was designed to increase downforce and includes intakes for rapid air cooling, as well as ducts to increase underbody air flow when flying. The aero efficiancy was spectacular value for money, and it was just below being a luxury transport.

"Tell you what-" He said, and without warning, he vaulted over the counter, sliding his feet onto the floor just next to her so they were very close. He rested his elbows on the desk and said. "I got nothing to do the rest of the day, anyway. I can maybe show you some of the ships the station has? I know the guy that owns the place. Might get you a discount. Of course-" He patted himself as if he were a car. "I'm not quite as fast as a Callisto, but I don't think you'd want a one and done guy..." He reached into his pants pocket and produced some shades, donning them, before reduntantly sliding them down so he could see eye to eye with her. "Would ya?"

Neil played it both angles. He knew she was flirting with him, but he wanted to present himself as someone who wanted to help rather than just some sucker. But he did also add in some heavy flirting in case that was not a bluff from her.

"Edwards! Are you done out there!?" David yelled from the office.

"No sir! I'm with a customer!" He called over his shoulder, before giving her a subtle wink and placing a finger to his lips. "Ready to get out of here? By the way, my name's Neil."

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Chapter 1

M5.213
Hyperion 3, Orbiting Titan
Business Quadrant

---

Oil leaked out in a heavy gush of blackness, coating Neil's shirt and spattering on his cheek. He vainly tried to halt the flow of the spill, but the bolt was stubborn and the dribble on the floor grew larger. He let out a frustrated cry, overly dramatizing the minor annoyance for his own amusement and sanity. He spat out the inky liquid that had managed to fleck his lips and readjust the piping, muttering 'come on you fucker, be nice' as he muscled the thing shut. He would need to replace the oil along with replacing the calibrator for the sublight drive. Maybe they could find the part of the station, but it probably cost his left nut to buy. Which, of course, meant they would have to charge this nice old lady a full set, and Neil wouldn't do that without speaking to her first. Unless...

Footsteps approached, and Neil wheeled himself out from under the VT-1890 light transport, lifting off his stained goggles. "Hey George, we got any sublight capacitors? Fifth gen, preferably."

George was a short, older man. He had mottled, somewhat dark skin and a shaved head. He wore baggy pants and a stained shirt, moving a cart of ion power couplings. He was a little, wiry man, but he was strong as an ox. If you were as strong as George, that was worth boasting about. Neil liked the old man. George always ribbed him and he did it back.

"Mmm sublight? Nah, I don't think we got any sublight capacitors here. Maybe third gen." George theorized. "Got some oil on ya, Neil."

"Yeah, yeah. Third gen?"

"Mmhmm, third gen. Ask Griffon down the ramp. He outta know." George said, lifting the dense couplings out and setting them in the dispensers for later. Once he was half empty, he started wheeling them elsewhere to finish off the load. "Yeah, ask Griff." He repeated. Neil wasn't going to ask Griffon. Griffon was an asshole who wouldn't admit he had anything, even if it served his own purposes. Neil was going to go looking himself.

"Bout time for lunch, innit?" Neil called back as George rounded out of sight.

"Whatever you say, Neil, whatever you say." He said back, his voice carrying around. Neil grinned and hopped up, deciding he would take his break now rather than later so he could deal with the customers on a full stomach. He punched out on the dataclock and left the Colonial Mechanic, heading into the wide atrium of the Hyperium 3 Station to eat at Soak Stack, a dirty, albeit popular dive for spacers and locals alike. The logo was a busty woman balancing three frothing mugs on each hand, holding two and smiling even as the top two spilled onto her cleavage.

50 minutes later...

With a stomach of bratwurst, booze, and bread, Neil felt full to burst walking back. He had a few extra credits in his pocket from the excursion. Not many people could say they went out to eat and came back with more money than they spent, but what could he say? He was a winner. He hadn't yet wiped the oil off his face, however, other than a small rubbing with a napkin. The look suited him, he fancied. Matched his hair and eyes and reminded him of his days in the Valc, back during the war. Old memories began to creep back, but he shoved them away. Not today. He would not be scrounging up old wounds just to get depressed today. Nope.

"Mrs. Riggard is here," He heard from the office as he passed. David Alten had his eyes peeled to the cogitator, but when Neil stopped, he glanced his way. He tried to freak his employees out, as if he knew where they were with some sort of psychic powers, but Neil knew he had a camera outside of his office on a mini-window at the bottom left corner of his screen. He knew that because he had broken in before to get the keys to the warehouse for parts before. Sometimes you had to stretch the rules here if you wanted to meet the quota.

But he guessed that was every job.

"I'm bout to see her boss-man. Keep ya briches on." Neil remarked casually, striding down the corridor after only hesitating a moment.

"Next time you're late I'll write you up." He heard behind him. "Might hire one of the spacers out there, instead."

"Yessir boss!" Neil said, saluting even out of eyesight. His voice went down in volume when he spoke next. "You can space deez nuts, bitch." And facetiously groped his crotch with his back turned to the increasingly distant camera. Neil saw his friend Paul smiling, having evidently heard. They highfived and Neil turned the corner and stepped up to the front desk to see the elderly Mrs. Riggard. White haired and lined face, she wore a jumpsuit and stood alone, evidently a system traveler on a holiday, if Neil remembered correctly. The lobby was moderately sized, with multiple chairs and a telescreen at the corner for people waiting. There was a huge sign of 'no weapons allowed' at the door.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up my VT-1890," she said with a hopeful smile.

"Hi Mrs. Riggard, yeah I took a look at it yesterday and found there was a bit more work we needed to do with it. So I spent all morning with it, and it's getting oil replaced as we speak. But there's some bad news. You need a new capacitor for your sublight engine. The cost will really depend on how long you're willing to wait."

There was a small gleam in her eye, as if Neil was a challenge to be overcome. He admired the tenacity, but unfortunately no matter what she did, capitalism was going to win. "And what is a capacitor exactly?" She inquired, hoping to stump Neil. Neil smiled with amusement, though he tried to hide it.

"A capacitor is in your engine is needed for torque, ma'am. It connects the wires and is used to giving your sublight engines a bit more oomph."

She shook her head in little movements, as if she was trying to get Neil to speak in even more layman terms. Neil's opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. He placed his hands together like he was performing shadow puppets and moved them from left to right. "So, you want your ship to go zoom zoom? Then a capacitor is needed. You can wait a day and pay a lot, or wait two weeks and pay kind of a lot. And before you ask, I am the manager." He lied, placing a hand to his chest.

Mrs. Riggard blustered, and then walked away, pulling out her communicator and calling whoever in order to vent or wire money, he didn't know. Neil placed his elbows on the counter and watched her walk away with a blasé expression writ across his face. "Ah, the wonders of retail." He said aloud, before the next in line walked up to speak to him. He realized he should have escaped to the back before, so he pushed himself up off the desk.

"Sorry, I'mma need to-" He started, lifting his thumb back to point at the door, about to say he was getting back to it. But the latest customer was probably the hottest woman he had seen in months. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed her before. Neil dropped his hand and felt his mouth go dry. "Uh, something you need?"

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"This is bigger than we thought," Ortega said, ducking back behind the hab-wall with me. Even from this distance, the smell of prometheum was evident, threatening to sting the nostrils. Irban Retch hadn't been as helpful as I would have liked, but what he did tell us gave us a rough direction and we made all speed across the slums to reach this place. It was an old factory, refurbished from an even older imperial frigate. The parapets had oxidized, leaving the tips of the normally blackened steel a dull grey. Refuse and old, rotted corpses littered the ground before the gaping maw of what I surmised was the bay, old chains and gridded rafters creaking as men gathered on the floor below, igniting machinery in some form of cleansing, the purpose of which I knew not what.

"We are following a system spanning conspiracy in league with the ruinous powers. Would you prefer they congregate in smaller groups?" I said, my voice dripping with barely suppressed irritation.

I was not unused to working with people not in my retinue, at least in a limited capacity. However, the last few days had been quite taxing and at the current moment, my lover and the woman who was rapidly becoming my closest confidant was captured by a cell of chaos terrorists in the bosom of a hive. I was in no mood for the constant questioning. Ortega merely grunted, checking his weapon. He bore a combat shotgun with a reduced barrel, granting greater concealment.

My eyes followed the dilapitated spires of the ancient warship and the age old furnishings of the inexorable modifications and chopping the locals would attempt on it to utilize it for their own ends. Eventually my eyes spied an entrance to the south, on the left side of the greater bay. An ornate helicum column framed arch that was now resplendent with grotesque graffiti that somehow managed to make a bastardation of even the horrid symbols of the accursed chaos gods.

"Are you with me?" I asked Ortega, eyes moving from the field of debris to the arbites.

Ortega nodded grimly, cocking his shotgun as an assurance. I nodded and began to move, keeping low behind the wall before crawling our way to a ruined groundcar. We paused to assure ourselves we weren't seen, and then made our way to the archway, stepping down the stairs into the darkness while rusted steel and petrochemicals invaded our senses.

There's Always a Price: Sci Fi Bounty Hunters

Dirk smiled grimly beneath his helm. He knew the celebrations weren't entirely to his or Jocasta's benefit, but it was a pretty loud indication the bastard was here. He set his visor on multi-search, the digital screen relaying back eighteen different appearances of the target's visage, all from signs or paintings made in thanks. He turned his head to the 'north' as the spire saw fit, gazing down the thoroughfare as the crowd began to part, an undulating wave of civilians and hawkers, raising their arms to keep their food or goods from bumping into the chest of other festival goers.

Dirk saw him before his reticle even honed in and identified the target.

He was a slight man with sharp features, a small scar on his nose and deep, sunken eyes. Just as the hologram had shown that past week. He seemed nervous, but optimistically happy. Dirk watched his procession grow, as more men and women waved to him or wanted to follow in his wake. Dirk checked his path but could find no reason for his movements. There was no great prize waiting for him down the street or someone important waiting to greet him.

Dirk lifted his modified DMX blaster and aimed down the sight, placing the butt of the blaster on the small rampart of the office building. As the face enlarged in his vision, he could see every crease on the man's lined face. He saw the light in his eyes and the happiness of the others around him. Dirk knew this man had stolen from the most dangerous criminal in the system, had given his wealth to the poor, and had like as not been encouraged to show himself by popular demand. Dirk was almost certain Voldargu could be described as a good person, or at the least, a bad person trying to do right. Word had it he used to belong to the gangs of the lower levels before he had escaped and joined some spacers in a job, the details of which were not known. All of the info from his dataslate ran through his mind, and had he been a more gullible man, he might have had second thoughts.

But this was not Dirk's first kill. If Dirk did not kill him, someone else would, and if they did not, Phyraelon Deadstar would invade this hab and kill everyone who had touched his money. There was no winning here. So Dirk did the merciful thing.

He began recording the view on his visor, readjusted his DMX blaster, and pulled the trigger.

The high powered bolt made to penetrate laminate merc armor scorched through Vol's neck, cauterizing the wound even as it blew a hole straight through his flesh. He died with an uneasy smile on his lips and a hand shaking his. Dirk rolled away from the edge of the building, putting Jocasta on the comm.

"Target is down. Make yourself scarce." His voice rang over the comm, and he gave her the coordinates to the body. If they could find the corpse in a relatively unguarded position, they would take the head. If they couldn't, the recording should be sufficient. Dirk vaulted over the building and free fell into the alley, activating his jump back a dozen feet from the ground to cushion his fall.

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

I took the immaculate sheets, already stained with my blood, ripped off a clean stretch of it and placed it under my armpit as I took a bottle of tilean spirits and doused my hand. The pain seared me and I nearly swooned, but it woke me up and put a crispness to my senses. I wrapped the newly made bandage about my palm as tightly as I could, grimacing. I felt sand sliding through an hourglass in my mind as the banging against the chamberlains door echoed across the hall, but I knew we could do little to halt them in our current state.

"Did you recognize the gentlemen that ran in here?" I asked her as I rolled over the bed to the other side.

"Tey weer frum last night," she said, following my lead and speaking in Riekspiel. I was glad for that, accompanied by her good memory. It further proved my theory she would not be a liability in a tight situation like this. I quickly donned some breeches and shoes and threw my cloak on, grabbing my skull-headed staff and retrieving the pistol I had procured from one of Marco's toughs the night before. "Can yu do that agayn?" Camilla asked inquisitively.

My mind whirred before I realized she meant the smiting light from Sigmar.

"I have a few tricks, but no. I almost did not think I could do it there." I said. Were it not for the blood gushing from my hand and the desperation in my voice, I did not know if my lord would have noticed the plight to answer. The world was large after all, even for a god, and sometimes in his wisdom he deigned not to aid his faithful. And even if he had been watching, I was not exactly the pinnacle of the order.

A crack erupted and shouts rose. My heart leaped in my throat, and I sprinted out of the room, Camilla following behind wearing a smart jerkin and brown trousers. They hugged her curves delightfully, but I hadn't the time to appreciate it as we leaped out of the door and ran down the hall, rushing into the broken door of the chamberlain's rooms to find the four men that had run in to slay him in his bed. I was just as stunned as they were to see the chamberlain was absent.

One man turned when we entered, and the other three simultaneously followed his lead to looked up. I glanced around to make certain the fat codger hadn't snuck behind a curtain, before my gaze met theirs. Two of them held spears, one had a sword at his hip and the other lifted a crossbow my way. I did not recognize the man, and in fact their uniforms were of prince romeo's retinue. I wasn't certain how trustworthy that was, and at the moment all I cared about were their designs on the lives of myself and my master. I quickly threw myself across the lobby to avoid the crossbow bolt, the armor piercing missile embedding itself an inch into the fine wood of the partially ajar door, swinging it open in time for Camilla to come in behind me.

"Camilla, run!" I said, trying to get to my feet. My hand burned with pain as it pushed against the floor, my heavy headed staff bumping into the carpeted floor as I lifted myself. The two spearman charged me at the swordsman's orders. I lifted my pistol at the two tileans bearing down on me, aimed, and fired. The pistol discharged in a roaring puff of smoke. The air was clear in my eyesight, however, and I saw the ball hit the man on the right at the curve of his breastplate. It caused a dent in the armor, but to my surprise the ball ricocheted and punched straight through his fellow spearman's temple, blood and bone fragments flying out to stain the expensive floor.

I supposed the gods did have a sense of humor.

Hastily I blocked the first spear thrust with my staff, but my injury and the crossbowman in the back reloading his weapon did not bode well for me.

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

"Muori la feccia del Nord!"

I awoke from my slumber and possibly the best night I had experienced in many years to the sight of a large, black bearded Tilean raising a sidesword up so he could swiftly end my life. I would have thought I was dreaming, but the yell was too loud and Camilla's body was too warm and comfortable. Instantly, I recognized Camilla's naked form was still on me and right in the path of danger, her face snuggled into my chest. Her arms, normally very welcome to be clinging to my form, added her weight to myself in my suddenly panicked state. I did the only thing I could, reaching back and ripping the heavy pillow from behind my head to cushion the savage chop from the would-be assassin. Feathers flew everywhere and a Tilean curse followed.

"Camilla!" I cried, echoing my cries of passion just hours before. The slightly different cadence likely tipped her off to the seriousness of the situation, because she lifted her head and only one blink of her eyes was enough for the woman to know something was very much off. The muscled Tilean ripped the pillow out of my hands and pointed his sword at Camilla, hoping to skewer us both in one. I grabbed the sheet and did what I could when his sword point shot forward, turning the blade aside with my hand obscured by the sheet.

Blood spurted from my opened palm, but aside from the sudden wet I only felt adrenaline coursing through me. Camilla scrambled off me and I shuddered as our lower halves separated, my other hand now grabbing at the hilt of the embedded sword, the point of the blade thankfully misdirected into the mattress by a mere inch. Sigmar must have kept watch over me, because that was twice I had cheated death in as many moments. I kicked out, my bare foot hitting the Tilean in the face, scraping him across the mouth. He grunted and fell back, loosening the grip on his sword.

"Sigmar take this sinful blood," I intoned, rising from the bed and squeezing my ruined hand. Blood seeped from my wound and dropped heavily to the floor. "Imbue me with power and show me your might, engulf this pagan scum in light!"

I shrieked in pain fear as my arm was suddenly not of myself anymore, growing rigid as my fingers uncurled. From my wound a flame roared to life, and a projectile in the shape of the blazing twin tailed comet erupted from my hand and hit the recovering assassin, immolating him as surely as a dwarfen drakkthrower. He screeched in horror, wailing to Myrmida as he was engulfed, the flames clinging to his skin as if they were cloth. He hit the floor, writhing on the carpet as his nerves were singed and his life was taken from him.

I gripped my arm, my hand scorched, but my wound now cauterized. Pain surged from the tip of my fingers to my forearm, and I knew right there I would not be able to use my hand for anything for many days unless I performed a healing rite, and I did not have the time or preparation for that. Outside of the bedroom, screams echoed and the clash of steel on steel was ringing across the halls.

"Is this a traditional morning or have I caused a stir?" I joked weakly, glad to see Camilla was unharmed.

There's Always a Price: Sci Fi Bounty Hunters

Dirk pressed two buttons on his wrist multi-tool and brought up the holo-image of their quarry. The blue light coalesced into a dark haired, scraggly man in his mid thirties with two nasty scars of his chin and a bionic implant in his left temple. Dirk transferred the likeness to Jocasta's data pad and removed the holo-projection. From all the commotion surrounding them, being conspicuous would be fairly easy until they were right on top of their prey, more than likely.

"You head down the central drag. Keep your eyes peeled and don't stop for sweets. I'll go up top and search from above the hab. If you see him, contact me before you engage unless you have a guaranteed shot. Remember, we want his body cold." The armored hunter said, and stepped to the left, marching past a crowd of young parents who went from giggling over their children to stumbling out of Dirk's way. The bounty hunter stepped into the sidestreet between the main roads that hosted this strange festival, and found a pulley-ladder positioned at the wall of an apartment building.

He grabbed the ladder and unholstered one of his pistols, pointing up at the carbon fibre strings that gripped the ladder and could release it from the ground at a moment's notice with a counter weight. With a quick second to aim, he fired, the bolt shattering the mechanism that kept the counterweight in place, sending it hurtling down as the ladder was yanked up, Dirk in tow. He kicked up the engines of his jump pack just enough to let him continue his ascent even after the ladder had jolted short, and he easily landed atop the apartment, now able to witness a line of buildings segmented across the fifth level of the spire.

He knelt down to a knee and reached into his belt, producing a secondary barrel he kept sequestered on his person, in case of bounties in need of a more precise touch. He screwed it onto his heavy blaster's barrel, spinning it before it clicked into place. The suppressor reduced the injection of gas and modified the actuating module, but unlike most suppressors it added range rather than reduced it. However, the bolt would pack less of a punch, and should not be utilized when firing on someone with armor. A long ganger on the other hand would be just the prey he wanted. He then placed an opto-electric collimator atop the blaster to help with aiming, and then he began to move, running from building to building like a ghost.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"You will talk," I promised, my pistol out as I shoved the ganger into the alleyway. The putrid smell of refuse and trash wafted through a lone breeze, likely caused by a hive-ventilator close by. Ortega did not seem to notice, likely because he had delved into the underhive on more than one assault. The burly arbites casually strolling to the other side of the alley in case our newfound friend had any funny ideas about escaping.

"Talk!? About what?" The thin man asked desperately, a cold sweat on his pathetic features. He had the look of someone who, even given the best facilities and medicine, would not be sought out for his looks. His nose was large but weak and his chin almost nonexistent. His eyes were beady and his neck was so thin I felt I could snap it with one strong shake. He looked as if he had been beaten recently as well, his left cheek blue and a clear wild fear in his eyes. There was some rash creeping up his neck that was clearly untreated. But I did not begrudge him any of his misfortunes or maladies, in fact it made me feel a slight tinge of pity. Unfortunately for him, my pity was overwhelmed immediately by my worry for Emmaline.

Something stirred near the closest garbage pile, all six of our eyes whirred to the alley as a wild haired ne'er-do-well woke up from a drug-infused nap. He smacked his toothless gums and blinked, trying to focus on us.

"Get out of here!" Ortega barked. The man stiffened at the roar, but did not immediately move. I could use my will, but I needed to curb that temptation, so I did something slightly less conspicuous and put a bullet into the ground by the man's feet. The shot echoed through the alley and he jumped, scrambling over browned parchments and ruined food and what was likely feces and ran out into the main street. I turned my attention back to the ganger and placed the barrel of my gun in his face, slowly adding pressure against his skull.

"Where did they take the blonde woman?" I asked.

"Who are they!?" He screeched, legs shaking.

"Shouldn't we ask who he is working for?" Ortega interrupted. I gave him a glare, but he did not relent. "If we can find the girl, then good. But whatever this is, it's bigger than her or any of us. You did not come to this city to halt cases of kidnapping. She knew the risks."

"Why would they take her if we were not on their trail? If we find Emmaline we find the ring." I insisted.

"Speaking freely, anyone who could would take a woman like her if they saw past her disguise. Trafficking for pleasure girls is a large business. We need to focus. The Undercouncil is the issue here."

"This man..." I said, bearing down on the cowering prisoner. He would likely soil himself any minute, I imagined. "-watched us only when we began looking for Emmaline. He knows where she is. I still do not know if he is a member of this Undercouncil, but I will follow this lead."

"Or he simply knows who you are."

"Who is he?" The ganger asked quietly, but I ignored him. My iron eyes fixed on Ortega.

"Are you disagreeing with me because you wish to remind me of the bigger picture or are you disagreeing with me because you truly believe the issues are separate." I asked him.

Ortega paused for a moment, and then sighed. "The former," He admitted, and gestured to give me the go-ahead for whatever I was going to do. With that settled, I turned to our unwilling contact. I would use my will this time. "What is your name?"

He shuddered as if struck, and Ortega almost fell to his knees. He had a strong will of mind, but he was not used to such psychic assaults, even if they were on the periphery of my attention. Ortega backed away to grant me some room as the ganger began to bleat out answers. "Irban Retch!"

"Who is your master?"

"Lord Nurgle!"

Both of our eyes whipped to his own when we heard the blasphemous name, and I noticed he finally did soil himself. A wet puddle grew larger from a trickle dripping from his pants leg. Luckily the alley already smelled of piss. Small mercies, I suppose. I loomed over him, summoning my will once more.

"Where is the blonde woman?..."

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

It all happened so quickly. So quickly in fact, that I did not immediately realize Emmaline was gone for what I estimated was nearly half a standard minute. I had gnabbed a few quick snippets of a conversation that I tangentially supposed was potential information on gang activity. Apparently a group called the Black Suns were large in this area, supposedly moving in on the turf of the Blooded Men, leading to eight dead the last day in a scuffle that served as the spark that would lead to the inevitable explosion of the tinderbox. I was not sure which group, if either, we were following, but as I turned to give my customary glance to Ortega and Emmaline, the latter was now gone.

I stiffened, lifting myself from my chair and immediately walking toward her last known position. My peripheral vision was undulating like the dancers, my focus on the floor just at the edge of the gyrating gangers and slummers. I pushed past a pair of drugged up men grinding against one another and found nothing on the floor, scratching out my suspicion she had collapsed. My eyes whipped around the area, not finding Emmaline but catching Ortega's eyes. He looked at me questioningly and I indicating there was trouble. He took another swig of the drink and set it down, making his way over to my position.

"What it is?" He asked.

"Emmaline is missing."

"Maybe she skipped town," He said, shrugging his broad shoulders. I shot him a dangerous look. I knew he did not entirely like her from the interrogation she had enacted upon him, but I knew Emmaline. She either found a lead, or was taken by a lead. Damn, either way I felt she should have signaled for me before whatever had occurred had happened. I sighed and turned, my eyes passing over another pair of eyes that were planted on mine. They moved away quickly, and anyone else would have suspected it was just a coincidence. But I stalked over to their position at the tables. A scrawny ganger with buggy eyes and an elaborate tattoo of an Imperial Titan on his arm glanced back at me, and then asserting that I was approaching, started to move himself. I cursed, trying to hurry and push past the crowd to reach him, but my injury kept me from moving as I normally would. I took out my gun, yelling him to halt over the blaring music as he made his way passed the bar to the exit.

He found Arbites Ortega suddenly appearing before him, punching him in the stomach and bowling him over. He spat on the floor, eyes wide from the hit. I made it to them with bated breath.

"Let's see what this scrawny rat knows." He said, taking him by the arm and neck and hauling him out into the street.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Galt shouldn't have been surprised when Silke all but insisted on him finding his friend and siblings, but somehow he was. It had been so long since he had even thought about his siblings, he truly did not know what to expect. Should he tell her he really had no intention of being in their lives? Not that he felt anything ill towards them, but it had been so long, he really could not find it in himself to really think of them as family much, anymore, even if he knew intellectually they were. It was an odd thing, actually. If he had come back home and discovered they had died rather than moved on, he would have missed them more, he thought. Why was that?

And then there was the wedding! He had never thought he was to get married before his wealth and status, and now that it was expected of him, he had thought the past few months that it would be to some rapacious noblewoman or a soft spoken damsel serving the whims of her father. But now that he was newly engaged to Silke, he for once thought how his own wedding would look in a positive light, and he found he did wish to see his entire family there, along with his friends. Even if they had grown apart, it didn't feel complete without inviting them. To look into Silke's eyes before gazing out over the crowd of his loved ones...

He took the hand she was using to gesticulate with, gently guiding it to his lips so he could kiss the back of it.

"I believe it will be a great wedding, and I think it's a good idea for us to find them. It's only right," He admitted, lowering her hand, though he did not entirely let go. The fire was warming his front side quite well, and he watched her with a smile. He truly was smitten. It was only the past few hours that he had finally admitted it to himself, but now that he had it was fascinating to feel such an emotion in him. He could watch her for hours and they would not be hours wasted. He supposed that would make his finance lessons easier, he inwardly joked.

"I expect snobs to be pretty commonplace, especially at a noble wedding. But I don't doubt you'll get it handled." He said, before realizing he also wanted to add: "And tell me if there's anything you would need me to do, as well. It's a day for the both of us, after all. Your feelings are just as valid as mine, ok?"

He wanted to let that sink in to her. Galt wasn't certain many men, particularly noble men had given her such admissions, but he would never falter in that. Partnerships, romantic or business, were important when one lived day to day not knowing where their next would come from. He found it was no less important in his current circumstances. The worries were now more social and emotional, but they were still there.