Aver Brand
Mercicle
A gray shuttle touched down in the spaceport of Cuipernam, small and unassuming. A figure emerged with the hiss of the loading ramp, dressed in what appeared to be plain civilian clothing and a rather fine leather cloak. Nothing to see here, move along.
A dash of sensor-deflector spray on the inside of that coat, and the detectors let her pass without a single peep. Nevermind that she was carrying enough weaponry to arm a small insurgency. Or that she was wearing armor that laughed in the face of grenades. The mercenary – or the projected overlay thereof, anyway – smiled sweetly at the customs officer, and disappeared outside.
One speeder rental later, the woman was flattened against the machine, body alive and in tune with the beast humming beneath her. The rolling plains were a yellow smear; the wind howled beside her, as if trying to drown out the roaring of the engines.
Wasn’t long, now. The display of her datalogger was steadily blinking her dot closer to her destination: East Bumfrak, Middle of Fethin’ Nowhere.
Aver pulled to a harsh, dustcloud stop, vaulted grinning off the cooling speeder. The outpost was trying very hard to look innocuous, but to a death-dealer, the hidden weaponry still screamed red and obvious. She considered it for a beat.
Well. Nothing for it. She rang the bell.
A dash of sensor-deflector spray on the inside of that coat, and the detectors let her pass without a single peep. Nevermind that she was carrying enough weaponry to arm a small insurgency. Or that she was wearing armor that laughed in the face of grenades. The mercenary – or the projected overlay thereof, anyway – smiled sweetly at the customs officer, and disappeared outside.
One speeder rental later, the woman was flattened against the machine, body alive and in tune with the beast humming beneath her. The rolling plains were a yellow smear; the wind howled beside her, as if trying to drown out the roaring of the engines.
Wasn’t long, now. The display of her datalogger was steadily blinking her dot closer to her destination: East Bumfrak, Middle of Fethin’ Nowhere.
Aver pulled to a harsh, dustcloud stop, vaulted grinning off the cooling speeder. The outpost was trying very hard to look innocuous, but to a death-dealer, the hidden weaponry still screamed red and obvious. She considered it for a beat.
Well. Nothing for it. She rang the bell.
[member="Cerbera"]