Avatar of Sevinya
  • Last Seen: 9 mos ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 39 (0.01 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Sevinya 9 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

She gave him a pained smile upon spinning around and seeing him, making a mental note to move faster next time. "I just need to pick something up. But they like to talk sometimes. So stay out of trouble."

She procured a wad of paper money and handed it to the tall man. "Go see if they have any Razzies for Tau. You'll get a cut if you manage a deal. Don't go any higher than twenty-five for three one hundreds." She waved a hand in the direction of the huddled figures, before turning around to the keypad.

It took a while to remember the passwords, her mind foggier with each button press. But she wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation. What felt like hours was scarcely a minute and a half, and with mild difficulty she managed to get the door open. She nearly threw herself into the suite, barely moving out of the way as the door automatically closed and latched itself behind her.
She sighed heavily. He'd clearly misunderstood her but she was quickly running out of energy to correct him. Plus now she was late. So she tightened her bag's straps and pivoted around, not wanting to waste any more time.

With a sudden haste she darted through the crowd. She still stuck close to the outer wall, circumventing the majority of kiosks. As they went along, she sorted the money underneath her oversized coat, surreptitiously tossing the emptied wallets in nearby trash chutes and darkened corners.

It wasn't long before she stepped into a cramped, smelly hallway. Corridor K-3. A pair of figures were crouched in the corner, fiddling with some small tools. Suite 7. The windows had been barred and blacked out, and a fancy-looking keypad sat perched on the wall near the heavy door.

She turned around to see if her new companion had been able to keep up.
The Kaufmanns, Heather and Marcus.


(Face claim: Diane von Furstenberg and Barry Diller.)

Jasper


(Face claim: Luka, tattoo artist)
The second he released her, she took a step away from him. She rubbed her wrist as he fumbled for the wallet on the ground, watching her the entire time. Her face was mostly obscured by her hood in the harsh lighting, but he could have sworn he saw her roll her eyes.

As he stood back up and neglected to put the wallet away, her eyes glinted. She held her composure, though doing so was more difficult now, as sleepiness began to tug at the corners of her mind. Usually she was in and out of the Marketplace quickly. Today was different.

But she bristled at his question. "Let's get one thing straight, Tall Guy--" Once again her mouth moved and no words came out. She held a hand up, lazily pointing at him. "I don't need your fuckin' money. It's none of your business." Her words began to slur slightly. "I've got debts to pay, who doesn't? Now are you gonna help let you out? Err, let me? Help you? Last chance, Tall Guy."
"Look man, it's nothing personal, okay?" He was clearly out of his element, and the gears began turning. "Let me-- let me make it up to you, huh? Apologize?"

Her plan wasn't working. He wasn't going to let go of her wrist. So she dropped the wallet. She probably had more than enough money for the day tucked away on her person. She cursed herself for being greedy. Now she had to bring Tall and Stupid along for the day.
She continued to stand there dumbly until he grabbed her. It shocked her back into reality.

"H-hey! Hey, fuck off! Don't touch me!" She struggled to keep the panic from creeping into her voice as she pulled away from him, but his hand easily held fast to her wrist. "Fuck you, weirdo, let me go!" She considered threatening him but her five-foot-two frame was easily dwarfed by his six-foot-five. She attempted to pry his fingers off with her free hand, but she knew it was useless. "I said I was sorry, okay?"

She grimaced uncomfortably. The trapper had become the trapped. She wondered what the price to pay for a stolen wallet would be as she continued to fight his grip.
It didn't take long to fill the deep utility pockets around her midsection, which in turn began to limit her movement. As the medication began to take effect, she looked for a final target.

She found him quickly, and casually wandered nearby. A tall young man who looked awkwardly out of place. Easy prey. At first he seemed to be waiting for something, then, incredibly, he shut his eyes. Idiot tourist... She took her chance immediately, sliding her fingers into a bulging pocket as she nonchalantly strolled past, but without warning she heard a loud crack and pain surged through her head. She nearly lost her balance taking a step back. Had she been attacked?

But no follow-up blow came. Dazed, she looked up, rubbing her head. Her pose was mirrored by the young man; their heads had collided as he'd pitched forward to tie his shoe or something. "The fuck, mate?" But as the accusatory words slipped past her lips, she caught the young man's eye. He wasn't looking at her face. She followed his gaze.

Oh.

Duh.


After being headbutted, she'd forgotten to tuck the wallet away. She stood there stupidly, holding the thing, her head throbbing, feeling her face flush from pain and embarrassment. She struggled to maintain her composure as she soundlessly mouthed words, trying and failing to come up with a smooth apology to let her off the hook.

She'd never been caught before.

"Uh... sorry?"

There really was a first time for everything.
Roused from a fitful sleep by raised voices, she blinked awake, staying silent and unmoving. She was part of the morning routine now. Every morning Kaufmann shouted at his wife, and every morning, his wife shouted back.

Every morning, after their shouting match over a nutritious breakfast of crumbly soy bacon and chalky powdered eggs, Kaufmann stomped his monstrous frame down the basement steps, passing right by where she lay hidden in the darkness. He would stay in the basement, deep inside a protective labyrinth of crates, kegs, and general junk, until his wife stomped downstairs to resume the shouting match.

As they shouted at each other, she scooped up her pack and darted soundlessly up the stairs. Not that the Kaufmanns would have been able to hear her.

At the top of the stairs she entered the tiny kitchen, passed quickly through the musty bar, and exited through the back door, making sure as always to lock it behind her. A chill ran through her as she stepped out into a poorly-insulated hallway, and she wasted no time, setting off at a brisk pace and pulling her hood up over her head and face.

The hallway was damp and poorly lit, tiny orange bulbs only illuminating suite numbers. Every so often, she would step in a puddle of unknown liquid, or feel something crunch and squish beneath her boot, or trip over broken paneling and exposed wiring. Though she came through Corridor T-17 often, something new was always broken.

What started as a hallway eventually opened up to a large enclosed space. Flashing neon signs advertised highly-rated merchants. At least three stories of kiosks were stacked on top of each other. She had rarely been above the third level, which was mostly for pricier items: ship parts, weaponry, electronics, people...

She kept her head down and pulled a small metallic blister pack from a pocket, pushing one of three pills through the foil. She pinched it and popped it in her mouth, swallowing it and tucking its brothers back into their spot. Swallowing heavily, she tightened the straps on her pack and zig-zagged through the crowd.

Dancing expertly through the swarm of people, it was as though she didn't exist. Her long fingers snaked easily through coat and pant pockets, purses, backpacks... Even a woman haggling with a vendor didn't notice the small hooded figure pluck a bundle of bills from her bosom. There's a first time for everything...
Tau


(Face claim: Lee Seung Jun)
The Lucky Salt Tavern (T-17)

Kaufmann's dive bar. Mostly known for cheap beer and dancing girls.

(Source: gadget-bot.artstation)

The Marketplace (Central Hub/Corridor ZERO)

Central hub for commerce. The lower levels sell all manner of unregulated goods.
Security clearance gives access to the upper level merchants, known to sell weapons and various intoxicating substances.

(Source: sergeyzabelin.deviantart)

The Information Kiosk

Ask for directions here. Upper level merchants are required to check-in with required permits. Lower level merchant spaces are first-come, first-serve.

(Source: artbyward.artstation)

Finding Freedom (K-3)

Where runners of the Debris receive work from the enigmatic "Freedom".
Characters of questionable intents can be found lingering about, as Freedom's runners are believed to be well-compensated for their work.

(Source: beeple.tumblr)

Residential Zone (Generally Corridors O through S)

The average citizen lives here.
"Homes" are mostly small 0-2 bedroom apartments.
Many have communal kitchens and bathrooms.

(Source: beeple.tumblr)
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet