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Trial by Fire; Rebirth 1/3
Topic Started: Aug 19 2012, 05:02 AM (3,059 Views)
loneviking
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Master of Disaster

Tobias awoke in the dark alleyway of the Eavesdown Docks in Persephone. Eavesdown was a very bustling place as spacefarers come and go and merchants try to sell their wares. The sounds of engines roaring in the distance were constant due to the heavy traffic of ships constantly arriving or departing every few minutes. The structures in the area were quite crowded with various shops and other alleyways making up a significant portion of the area. His hands were covered in a sticky red substance. He could see that his knife had a similar red substance on it. If he were to check his sidearm, he would find it empty with his ammo depleted.
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Balketh
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Requiem for a Hawke
His eyes opened.

Aquamarine eyes, glazed and shrouded in shadow, peered out across the alleyway at the wall across from himself; a place he didn't know. Slowly, as his mind turned on, he roused and attempted to move. His right arm shifted wearily, his legs twitched in meek response, and his left arm shot up, unhindered and unerring. The sudden movement jarred his senses.

Underneath the shadow of the brim of his hat, the groggy man pressed his right hand back against the wall he was slumped against, and rose to seasick legs. As he pried his hand from the wall, it hesitated to pull away. He blinked, turning to look at his hand.

It was covered in something red and sticky. Trusting his gut, he decided for a moment not to question it, and instead consider the world around him.

Finally standing freely, the man looked to his memory, his eyes losing focus as he began to probe back to the night before. It must have been one hell of a bender.

Perhaps not, it seemed, as he realised he couldn't remember the night just passed at all. He blinked twice, and searched further. The day before, the week, the month... None of it was coming back.

"... Damn." He sighed, almost shocked at the gravelly nature of his voice; he reached up to rub his eyes, but hesitated as he remembered the sticky red substance his hands were covered in. He paused to wipe his hands roughly against the ground and wall as best he can, scraping off as much of the substance as he could. Then, he rubbed his eyes.

His own voice came to his mind, and he pondered the fact that he had, as far as he knew, no memory of himself, his place, and his past. Apparently he was the kind of man who wouldn't have been too upset at this, because he wasn't. Surprisingly, he found it more frustrating than anything else.

Unconsciously, his left arm shot out and grabbed the neck of something next to him. He cocked an eyebrow and looked to what he had grabbed. A duffel bag. My duffel bag, he thought, as he relinquished his iron grip on it.

The man's gaze shifted back from the duffel bag to his left arm, and he cocked an eyebrow even further at it. His red-sticky-substance-covered arm, the metallic and plated prosthetic that it was, whirred softly back at him, though it was hard to hear above the din. It was a sound that seemed all too familiar to him, and so he surmised that this wasn't a new development.

Continuing up his arm, the man assessed his person, checking as much for injuries as he was for clues about his person, including his long duster, and - aha - holstered weapon.

Finally, the first thing to truly give him pause was the way he suddenly and expertly drew the weapon in his holster. In less than a second, in an almost silent, fluid motion, the massive, grey brick of a hand cannon was freed of its leather confine and snapped in half. Six empty shells sprung free of the chamber, and in an instant, his left arm snatched all six of the shells out of the air in one swipe.

He blinked, and recounted exactly what he had just done in his mind. Muscle memory's apparently still in-tact, he thought with an uncomfortable smirk. He observed the incredibly strange gun he wielded, and the lettering along the barrel block. It had been gouged away some time ago, he gathered, and sighed in resignation. Stuffing the shells into one pocket, and the gun back into its holster, he began scouring his long duster and trousers for any clues on himself.

In a pocket he didn't know he had, the man found an ident-card, and briefly held it out with a smirk, showing the world his victory. He proceeded to feel a little stupid at the action, and brought it close under his hat to read.

"Tobias... Hawke, huh?" He muttered to himself.

"I'm named after a bird. Great." Tobias sighed again, stuffing the card back into its hidden pocket.

Finally, he gave thought to his environment. Quickly, he instinctively checked his boot, and found a long Bowie knife stuffed in the cuff of one of them. It was smeared with the same substance his hands were caked in, which by this point Tobias had frankly given up hope of it being anything but blood; with a grimace, he slid it back into his long boot cuff, and took up his duffel bag and began to assess his environment, searching for anything in the alleyway that could help jog his memory.

With a head still groggy and legs that barely wanted to co-operate, Tobias blinked as he gazed toward the end of the alley; he shielded his eyes from the light briefly as he looked out and saw a bustling space port. Once again, he sighed.

"No memory, no ammo, covered in blood and nothing but a gun and a name to my name." He muttered. "Great way to start a new life. Thanks, Hawke." He grumbled in his parched, gravelly voice, cursing his past self inaudibly. Finally, he took a deep breath.

It was going to be a long day.


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Edited by Balketh, Aug 21 2012, 01:13 AM.
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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

As Tobias stood up, the sun reached into the alley and blinded him. Suddenly pain... Sharp pain in his head. He saw flashes of people in white, poking into his brain. A blinding light hung above him. The vision quickly faded and all that was left was the blazing rays of the sun. Various tents lined the street as Merchants called out to him, trying to sell him useless wares. I n the distance was the main landing area of the Space Port.

Sirens then started to drown out the merchants yelling as flashing lights headed towards the area Tobias was in.
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Balketh
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Requiem for a Hawke
Bright light, bright room, bright clothes, dark intentions...

Tobias' eyes nearly split as they stretched wide as they could, despite the bright light. His ears popped - or so he thought. A wave crashed onto him as vague images blasted his mind.

And then it was over. He blinked twice, and felt his eyes were actually dry; they'd been open that long, as if they desperately wished to see into the heart of what his mind had conjured.

Something I'll have to get used to then?, Tobias grimaced at the thought that his future would be filled with more and more flashbacks. As he stood, staring out into the street of merchants and bustle, the sounds of sirens pricked his ears.

Something I'm already used to... He sighed, gripping his duffel bag tightly. He glanced briefly back into the alley to see if there was anything he missed. Even if there was, he didn't have time to stick around and look.

Pulling the brim of his hat low, Tobias took a long stride, and stepped out into the busy Persephone street- His memory twinged suddenly. Persephone? That's where this is? Gorram it, better not have killed anyone here... Biting his tongue, towering, dark man picked up his pace and attempted to move into the crowd, and to get as far away from that alley as possible.

Best bet's to find a place to sit for five, check my gear, try and scrape some credits together and get a boat off this rock... Too many enemies to be made, too many problems to be had. Deciding it better to keep his bloodied hands to himself, Tobias shouldered and elbowed his way through the crowds, looking for the dodgier area of the markets in order to sit a spell. He let his muscle memory guide him, trusting his own movements more and more with each passing minute.

In Eavesdown, you can get as lost as you can get found...

Edited by Balketh, Aug 21 2012, 05:45 PM.
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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

Walking through the area, Tobias eventually made his way through the crowd and noticed a run down tavern called The Rattlesnake. Various unsavory figures were hanging around the area. Looked like a real hell hole.
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Balketh
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Requiem for a Hawke
Perfect.

Tobias paused for a moment, pretending to observe something unrelated as hespied the bar.

Rattlesnake, huh? He smirked a little. Sounds terrible. Which makes it perfect.

The shadowy, gruff-looking man idled a moment longer, and considered some things about the place.

It looks rough. Hope I'm not a fugitive they'd wanna cash in... With a quick, grimaced glance at his right hand, Tobias strapped his duffel bag to his shoulder unconsciously, freeing his left arm, which almost clicked into a standard place naturally as it lowered.

He paid idle mind to the way his prosthetic arm moved as he walked. Externally, it moved and looked natural, flowing . Even to the trained eye, it would be difficult to discern from a distance that it wasn't a real arm.

Tobias, however, knew a different story. He could feel its clicks and whirs with every move it made. It felt slow compared to a normal arm, but only by milliseconds - no doubt he had kept it well-tuned in his previous days. He also felt no resistance from it, in any form of movement - undoubtedly it was a strong arm indeed. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it today.

Setting his jaw, Tobias strode forward, hat tipped low, heading for the entrance to The Rattlesnake. If it was quiet, and he could find a place at the back maybe, he could assess his gear and decide what move to make next.

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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

The Rattlesnake was a damp and dark place, with candles providing what little light there was. A thick haze of cigarette smoke made it somewhat hard to see until your eyes adjusted. The environment was crowded and noisy, mostly filled with chatter and the occasional argument or fight. A long bar table streched against the wall while there were several small tables and chairs scattered about. Most of the seats were filled with all sorts of questionable folk, the kind your mother told you to stay away from. There was a stool available at the end of the bar. A manly looking female bartender nodded to you, acknowleding your presence as you enter while cleaning a mug with a towel.
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Balketh
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Requiem for a Hawke
As he entered The Rattlesnake, Tobias immediately decided not to linger in the doorway and garner the attention of everyone at the bar, as cliché would dictate. Instead, he sauntered straight in, giving a hat-tip to the woman behind the bar, moving seemingly absent-mindedly over to the end of the place. The seat at the end was definitely a questionable choice - far from exits, deep in the danger, but he frowned and took it anyway.

With a moment to pause, finally, Tobias unhooked his duffel bag and sat it beside him. Bending his back, he looked like a creature far too big for the small seat he was perched on as he opened his heady-smelling leather and metal tube duffel bag, beginning a slow and careful pick-through of his equipment.

Credits, ammo, then the rest... He thought as he rummaged, occasionally sneaking a glance about the bar from under his hat. Tobias instinctively took nothing out of his duffel, only shifting the contents around to see; he kept the drawstring close at hand should trouble arise - he wasn't about to lose the only set of clues he had about himself.

His right hand, the blood on it dried, slipped into several unexpected hidden pockets along the inside of the duffel bag - Tobias couldn't work out if this were accidental or if his hand was moving on its own, but he felt, if anywhere, one of these pockets might contain the credits he hoped to find...

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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

As Tobias was digging through his bag, he discovered a roll of 1000 Credits, freshly printed. He then overheard a conversation nearby. "You hear about that massacre of the crime lord and all his men?" "Heard about it? I saw the blood. Pools of it everywhere. Feds are crawling all over the place." "Sounds like a real bloodbath." "Yeah, they were butchered, never seen anything like it." The conversation then turned to something about the latest airball scores.
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Balketh
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Requiem for a Hawke
His eye twitched. Overhearing the conversation shed some new light on the credits he found in his hand. Tobias wasn't one to shy away from some good fortune, apparently; if it could be called good fortune. He split the roll of credits up, stashing small amounts around each of the hidden pockets in his bag. He placed some in a hidden pocket in his coat, and some simply in his normal pocket, before pulling the bag closed. Ammo could wait.

Ni ta ma de tianxia suoyoude ren dou gaisi! Tobias hissed a surprisingly vulgar curse under his breath, and was momentarily surprised at his intimate knowledge of Mandarin curses. He rubbed a blood-caked hand down his face, and though the blood was dry, it was no less unpleasant. With a sigh, he picked up the duffel bag and reattached it to his left shoulder, then hunched over the bar.

Resting his elbows, Tobias looked both well out of place, such a large man in a small space, and yet entirely fitting to the atmosphere; dirtied, bloodied, peppered with what could be at least few days worth of stubble, and clothed befitting of the atmosphere - as if he were to step into a showdown at any moment.

He raised a finger, feeling a little more weary than he should. A pick-me-up wouldn't go a-stray, he mused as he tried vacantly to catch the attention of the womanly, yet manly bartender.

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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

The Bartender approached Tobias and smiled a near toothless grin. "What can I get yer fer stranger? What's yer poison?"

A table spilled over behind Tobias as a man was punched over it by another man, glasses crashing to the ground with him. "And thats for disrespecting my sister!" He gave a quick kick with his boot to the fallen man's face and then exited the bar. Everyone else seemed to ignore the fact that this fight just took place as the man laid there unconcious and bleeding.
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Balketh
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Requiem for a Hawke
Tobias wasn't quite sure what just happened; more importantly, he wasn't quite sure what happened first. The table hit the ground, the men began to fight, and all he knew was that for the entire duration, his right hand rested tightly on the grip of his hand cannon.

He hadn't even felt his arm move. His long brown duster was still coming to a rest, but Tobias felt as if he could have drawn that massive hand cannon, fired it, and re-holstered it before the coat had begun to fall back from being flicked away.

Gingerly, he pried his hand off the grip of the gun, and peered over his shoulder at the unconscious man on the floor, pulling his hat a little lower as he did.

"Gimme..." He paused briefly, still gazing at the man on the floor. "Two whiskys. One fer me, one fer him." His voice grumbled along with the bar, like gravel in a metal drum. It wasn't too deep, but it sounded like he was perpetually parched, and didn't care much for raising his voice, even if he was speaking loudly.

As he spoked, he turned back, looking slightly downward at the bartender from his lofty perch. Surprisingly, Tobias paid no mind to the woman's lack of teeth, and he pondered what kinds of things he must have seen in order for that not to surprise him.

As he waited to be told a credit amount before paying, Tobias didn't realise his brown coat had hooked behind his holster, leaving his long, menacing revolver open for all to see. Even if he did notice, he wouldn't be worried - at least not worried for himself...

Edited by Balketh, Aug 23 2012, 05:54 PM.
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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

The bartender poured two glasses of whisky and slid them to Tobias. "That'll be 5 creds." The injured man slowly came to and picked up the fallen table with a grunting sound. He wiped the blood from his face and sat next to Tobias, trying to pop his jaw into place. "Thanks Stranger." He said hesitantly, not used to kindness. Taking a shot of whisky he shook his head, feeling the burn.
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Balketh
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Extending the five credits with a nod to the bartender, Tobias picked up his own glass as the man came to. He took the cleaner of the two, if there were such a thing.

The first sip of the 'whisky' shocked him, but he held his ground remarkably well. The second sip was nothing. Must be my drink? He mused, rotating the glass in front of his face as he rested elbows on the bar. The man had finally risen to the bar and taken his glass.

"I was gonna pour it on your face if you didn't get up..." Tobias added with a hint of snark after the man. Despite a lack of mirror, he shot an equally surprised dirty look off into the space directly ahead of him, a look that was wholly intended for himself as he took another sip. Snappy comeback... He conceded with a slight nod, and took another sip.

"Never insult a man's family..." He followed through to the man, before deciding to veer the conversation quickly.

"So," Tobias' torso twisted slightly, facing the man better.

"You hear about this crime den slaughter?" He cocked an eyebrow at the man, studying him as he sipped further beneath the brim of his dark hat. "What's the story there?"

Edited by Balketh, Aug 24 2012, 01:52 PM.
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loneviking
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The man streched his neck to the side, still obviously feeling pain from the hit. "Feds are everywhere near where that crime lord had set up shop. Witnesses say a guy with a Large hat and trench coat was the last one to enter and leave that place. Some say he was as tall as a giant. I heard that over a dozen of his henchmen were sliced up and blown away with some heavy artillery. Holes in them the size of a cannon balls!" He was very articulate with his hand movements as he relayed the story to Tobias. "What he did to the Crime Boss, that had some balls. He owned half of Eavesdown and the Assassin just walks in there, butchered all his men and then obliterated the boss. There was nothing left of him, some sort of explosives." The man looked over Tobias. "Hey! Kinda looks like you." He shrugged taking another shot of whisky. "What's your name again, stranger?"
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Balketh
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Tobias' eye gave a single, heavy twitch as the man finished his story.

Well, time to get my pi gu off this go se rock!

With a grimace, Tobias glanced around the bar slowly, eyeing the door as he did. He looked back to the blank spot of space ahead of him he had been studying absent-mindedly, and skulled the rest of his whisky with no hint of remorse or foul taste. He held the whisky in his mouth, just to prove a point to himself - Yup, thougth so! I don't have tastebuds...

Swallowing, he paused to let the heat of the alcohol travel downward, stopping just north of his sternum. Letting out a long, satisfied 'aaaaaaah', he turned to the man to address his question.

"Name?" Rolling his right shoulder with a crack, then his neck, the towering, dark man finally settled.

He rested his right hand on the man's shoulder, a little high, almost at the neck.

"They call me Havoc." With a single motion, sudden and intense as a kicking mule, Tobias pushed, slipping his hand around the back of the man's head, bringing it down onto the flat bartop. He made careful note to avoid any glasses, or the edge of the bar, but that didn't stop him from putting a lot of strength into the shot. It almost felt like he had done this before, and that he knew how hard to slam... Concerning thoughts to Tobias.

Without even checking to see if the man was out, up or alive, Tobias dropped five more credits onto the bar.

"Two more, for this one, on me." Tobias signalled to the bartender while pointing to the man as he rose from his own seat. He turned, intent on making a beeline for the door, unsure of whether to be more mortified at how easily he just slammed a man's head into a bar, or the fact that he didn't stop to check if he was alright.

More importantly, Tobias worriedly pondered where the hell 'Havoc' came from? He'd never heard that name, or in fact that word being used as a name before in his life.

Edited by Balketh, Aug 24 2012, 03:36 PM.
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loneviking
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The crowd showed almost no reaction to the slamming of the man's head into the bar by Tobias as the man fell limp to the floor with a thud. Tobias stumbled back in to the busy streets of Eavesdown as he was surrounded by merchants trying to peddle their wares.
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Balketh
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Requiem for a Hawke
Stopping to think would be a mistake.

Tobias took off into the busy street, dodging people, shouldering his way through as he tried to think.

What the hell was that?! His mind reeled at what he had just done. Knocking out a man for the rumour he gave, giving a pseudonym he'd never heard before, and then exiting promptly? What kind of man am I?

The dark, long-striding figure started to look for vague signs that would lead him to the port. Accessing a console to find the first cheap ship off Persephone was top priority for Tobias right now.

While I'm at it, I'd best check and see if this... 'Havoc' is in the news. I hope to gods he's not...

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loneviking
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Heading westward was the right way to go Judging by the flurry of activity with ships landing and departing there. At the spaceport Tobias found a nearby cortex uplink that only provided limited access without an ident card. He didn't see anything of importance in local news and nothing of a mass murder. Accessing the Public Transport Database he saw the following:

Stargazer Ariellian Transport
Capacity: 200 Passengers
Seats Remaining: 40
Destination: Ariel
First Class Ticket: 2000 Credits
Coach Ticket: 200 Credits
Departure tine: 48 Hours
Do you wish to make a reservation?

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Balketh
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Requiem for a Hawke
Grumbling at the lack of real news without an ident-card, and certainly not willing to risk using the one he had on him, Tobias perused the transport database. He was slightly crestfallen to see that the only major ship off Persephone was headed to an even more tightly controlled Core world, Ariel.

From there, it would be difficult for him to head Rimward - he was frankly surprised there wasn't a Rimward bound ship at Eavesdown. Tobias was, perhaps, more surprised as his knowledge of the 'Verse at large.

"Gorram it..." Figuring he had maybe 40 hours to decide whether or not to leave Ariel, Tobias began walking around the space port proper - even though it was mostly open ground for ships to land in - looking for any ships that were heading Rimward that didn't want to officially indicate it, perhaps. If the idea went south, he at least had the credits on hand to snag a luxury first class cruise to Ariel...

Though he couldn't fathom why he'd want to go there.

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