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I ended up crashing while making those edits so I'll be wrapping those later after work.
Post is now up. As usual, I'll be making edits as I get to them.
The Legion's End ripped back into real space, busting out of the yoke that was its extinguishing warp bubble and settling into reality once more. The vessel was bathed in the bluish light of Noctus' star, revealing the small dents and scraps it had incurred through its mad getaway from Poseidon's Belt. If the ship could speak for itself, it would have question her crew's idea scuttling a doomed vessel. Granted, it was most likely the same opinion Sven would have gave as well. The Ascended Vandrell had almost seemingly locked himself within the Legion's End's bridge running innumerable hull damage and system diagnostic scans for the entire vessel. Although, perhaps 'locked in' wouldn't be the right term seeing as Cyne would often drop by quite frequently and track the local transmissions. Both were somewhat paranoid in their own ways; Sven in regard's the ship's condition while Cyne dutifully listened in for any trouble that could have been coming in their way.

Their last op was had nearly put them into the sights of everyone in-system searching for the SSA Balrog were it not for Gerad's catastrophic hyperspace bomb covering their escape; and nearly killing them too. Thankfully, communications going out of the system had not spread like wildfire as Cyne was anticipating and gave him, and perhaps the rest of the crew calming clarity that they were not under any scrutinizing gaze of any large political powers. Not like they were already within the attention and interest of a few, of course.

The main turbothrust engines of the Legion's End boomed and propelled the ship forward and begun closing within and past three-hundred thousand kilometers of Noctus IV. While Cyne had voice his opinions to Silas regarding their already assured safety from the SSA and KOT forces, the head of the ship and crew still opted to make their way to the surface to unload and resupply. They already had another job lined up and it was time sensitive that they met the parameters for catching their quarry. While considered a hideout due to no lawful regulation from any of the major powers in-system, it was still nevertheless a place many of their contacts tended to do business at. Cyne on the other hand, while accepting the purpose of the world, had grown to detest it. The soldier mentality had been hammered deep into his skull and Cyne made little effort hiding his contempt of the lowlifes that made up a chunk out of Noctus IV's population. It was unfortunate, for Cyne, and convenient, for Silas, that many weapon dealers they did business with were on world.

Even before the Legion's End exited hyperspace, Silas had woken earlier than usual and was currently fueling his croggy brain with doses of caffeine. He had spent much of the morning, or what was considered 'morning' by galactic standard time, making calls to many of the his contacts for when the ship landed. They were not staying long for sure and it was only enough time to restock and drop off any cashable dead weight like Macklyn's ship before jumping to their next job. Surprisingly, he already had a buyer for the vessel after an hour of posting the sale on the planetary market and the offer nearly double what he had thought was profitable enough to get rid of it. It was only unfortunate that contacting the dealers and arranging a meeting with them to restock and sell the unclaimed wares wasn't as easy. It was a nuisance actually and even not as profitable in the case of waving a few hundred more credits as encouragement and interest just to have the dealers to even consider showing up. And then there was the arrangement with Ducaelia...

Thirty minutes later, the Legion's End had broken through Noctus IV atmosphere and made way to Silas' paid-for-landing-pad. It was an investment he himself was still hesitant about but thus far, managed not to financially explode in his face given the high upkeep and maintenance of the large facility he was supposedly paying only a small percentage for. It was likely evident that he didn't like the manager of the landing strip. Sven, smooth as ever, vectored the armed freighter into a clean incline and turned and settled the Legion's End into its steel nest.

"...and we have touch down." Sven reported before twirling his pilot seat toward Silas whom stood over him, "so just to make sure I'm on the same page, how long are we expected to stay parked here? I could sure use the time to-"

"Three hours," Silas interrupted as if he knew Sven wanting to take the careful time in repairing their scrapped vessel, "after that we're out of here. It'll take more than a half a day to jump to Precolis and I'd rather not fancy are marks getting away."

Sven frowned and was awkwardly silent until Silas broke though with a sigh, "if it makes you feel better, I can have a nano-remedy cleaning done while we're docked."

It was quite obvious that the crew were still sour about their last gig ending as it did with far little income being obtained for it as well. His promises of paying for their loss was certainly being taken advantage of to some degree. "Under my supervision." Sven added, accepting the his offer although his stern expression held strong.


With that out of the way, Silas took his leave and made his way to the hanger. As he arrived, he found that Cyne, Gerad, and Gaz were already on site, overseeing the large cargo shutters unfold and exposing the Legion's End's hanger to the outside. Maintenance crews, or what looked like orderly workers anyway, some of them looking gruff and greasing, roamed around the pad securing the ship and refueling it. Silas could already imagine Sven watching each of the personnel going about their tasks through ship's many external visual sensors. They did land one a scum hideout after all. Although Silas personally had to admit, the world didn't exactly deserve the reputation it had received. not all of it however.

"Alright boys, gather around," Silas announced to his team mates within the hanger, "as I mentioned before, we're not staying here long. Not this time. If you have any errands to run I suggest you'd do it now before we leave in the next three hours. We got a job to do."

Silas then produced his personal datapad from one of his internal pockets and dialed a few finger taps, "as promised, I'm paying for your resupply and contacted a few dealers to get you what you need. They shouldn't give you any crap this time; I've made sure of that and I'll be damned if they don't their end of the bargain."

He then turned to Cyne whom already manifested a livid expression, "I'll leave you here to oversee Macklyn's ship and our are unclaimed loot to be sold off. Don't worry, I already got the your ammunition coming in. Should be here in the next...twenty minutes."

Cyne narrowed his eyes at Silas but eventually sighed and accepted the terms, "Alright. I'll make sure no one pulls anything. Where will you be going?"

Silas had only taken just a few steps before turned hit attention back to his sniper, "Doing some, 'catching up'."



Silas had forgotten how busy Noctus IV's main hub was. Although busy may not be a proper term to use and main hub was more or less a town rather than a bustling city. Much of the districts were rather rundown with only some form of law enforcement present, mainly trying to crime at least under tolerable control and not out of hand as it was in the past. That of course was before some syndicates took the unexpected approach of applying some form of regulation to keep the once lawless region stable and to ensure business was viable without the local gangs plowing into everyone's business. Never the less, the not-denizens still carried their personal tasks through the streets. Some arrived and exited out of several local consumer establishments that were fortunate not to have been run out of town. Several of those said syndicates often required those business owner to pay them a protection to keep gangs and other crime lords off them.

He eventually arrived to a notable district played host to a surprisingly well-kept fountain at its center. It was rather unusual for such a construct to show no signs of decay or even damage from abusive thugs. It was kind of an odd and yet pleasant feeling when compared to much of the rustic theme of the planet. Pedestrians usually rested for a bit, seating on the many stone platforms that surrounded the fountain. The place he'd arrived to was usually a neutral place, mainly for meetings or personal interests. Surprisingly, no one bothered each other here. It was as if there was an unwritten rule that forbade the causing of trouble within this part of the district.

Silas eventually claimed one of the stone platforms for himself and eased his back atop it and waited as he peered into the light-greenish skies.
Due to delays on our GM's side. I will be starting up our next arc. Due to this being finals week however, much of today and tomorrow will be devoted to that business. Afterwards, I'll let you guys know when we'll get into it.
So, is this still going?

It is unless told otherwise. Sorry about the lack of further replies. I was anticipating the next arc would have started by now. Granted, this time of year can get busy for some people (like myself). I'm checking where we're at current for that arc to start.
@CaptainSully When can we expect a post from you, buddy?
Cyne sat at the table, alone after Silas and Gerad retired for the rest of the evening. Cards laid strewn about the flat surface in messy collections where their holders previously occupied while a row of winning cards and a pile of credits was amounted on Cyne's end. He leaned back and grinned, satisfied in his winnings and his efforts after being dealt a harsh and costly blow by Gerad earlier on. The set back was not easy recovering from.

The room grew quite once everyone left, leaving himself and his own thoughts as his company. Peering to his left, he could see a row of screens emulating accelerated space just beyond the six meters of internal infrastructure, hull, and armored plating that separated him from the outside as if they were windows. Specks of white; distant stars whose light managed to be captures during their FTL transit, streaked by as blurred lines in contrast to the blackness that emplaced their surroundings. Checking his watch, it was nearly ten minutes to midnight; per the galactic standard time anyway. It was only recently that he had gotten used to the time schedule for space travel versus the schedules for the many different planetary cycles of worlds he'd visited.

Seeing as there was little for him to do, he gathered his winnings and retired to his quarters, where he would attempt to drift off to sleep and hope to be unconscious for more than 12 hours all the while mentally grappling with himself to silence the inhuman screaming that still lingered.
Apologies for the delay, fellas. I'll have a post up tomorrow.
Came up short for any further edits for the current post so I figured posting again to get into the current scene would've been more appropriate. Plus I wanted to start off page 3. =P
"To be fair," Cyne began as he came from behind Gerad and joined his squad mates, "we did sign through the liability and responsibility segment of the deal. That one's on us for agreeing to pillage a vessel for a mystery prize."

Cyne made his way around the table and took his seat and dealing himself a hand of cards. He then eyed Silas only briefly, "we're not doing that again unless we're charging interest. But honestly, I'd rather not run any further Hive-related jobs for a long while."

If it can be helped, that is. His eyes finally laid on the content of his card-filled hand and silently observed the numbers and characters in his position. An intrigued expression soon manifested upon his face, his left brow raising and a half-grin pushing into his right cheek.
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