Atin Vendet
Journeyman Protector
Luxury Liner: "Shifty Hips", in the lone cabin of a gun for hire...
The cabin creaked, as Atin Vendet was instantly torn awake from a deep slumber, and red backup lights kicked on to part away the utter darkness. He rolled out of bed, and under it, knocking his head in the process. He could no longer hear the engines, or the hum of hyperspace, and this brought up numerous concerns. He rubbed his forehead, and shook it, taking another listen. Silence.
"Uh oh..."
He flopped out of his bunk, and rushed for his gear, as the ominous sounds of engines pulling against the inevitable kicked to life through the hull. Either they were being boarded, suffering mechanical issues, or the operator of the vessel had taken matters into his own hands, concerning the authorities, which would certainly explain the violent attempt to escape. Atin began to hurriedly put on his gear, having poorly chosen to sleep out of it, for comfort. After numerous fumbles, curses, and the passing of near two whole minutes, he had his gear back together. He knocked himself beside his head, with a gloved hand. It was a mistake he'd remind himself not to make again.
"Deezee. Wake up! We've got company!"
*Several Beeps are heard in the darkness*
"Yeah! I /KNOW/ my weapons permits aren't up to date!
*Something is knocked over*
You've told me, and I said I was working on it!"
The little scouting and recon droid would scan his exposed palm, before he slipped on his left glove, the red eye in its center forehead coming to life. The Mandalorian rubbed the back of his helmet, finding the plug in for his smartlink scope, and syncing Deezee's camera feed to his own. He quick double check of the firing capability of his weapon ensured that he was locked and loaded. He opened the door to his cabin, his toothy visor gazing down the corridor beyond...
(Feel free to post in. Left the captain to the imagination. Left the crew size to imagination. Left the problem to imagination. You might well BE the problem. )
The cabin creaked, as Atin Vendet was instantly torn awake from a deep slumber, and red backup lights kicked on to part away the utter darkness. He rolled out of bed, and under it, knocking his head in the process. He could no longer hear the engines, or the hum of hyperspace, and this brought up numerous concerns. He rubbed his forehead, and shook it, taking another listen. Silence.
"Uh oh..."
He flopped out of his bunk, and rushed for his gear, as the ominous sounds of engines pulling against the inevitable kicked to life through the hull. Either they were being boarded, suffering mechanical issues, or the operator of the vessel had taken matters into his own hands, concerning the authorities, which would certainly explain the violent attempt to escape. Atin began to hurriedly put on his gear, having poorly chosen to sleep out of it, for comfort. After numerous fumbles, curses, and the passing of near two whole minutes, he had his gear back together. He knocked himself beside his head, with a gloved hand. It was a mistake he'd remind himself not to make again.
"Deezee. Wake up! We've got company!"
*Several Beeps are heard in the darkness*
"Yeah! I /KNOW/ my weapons permits aren't up to date!
*Something is knocked over*
You've told me, and I said I was working on it!"
The little scouting and recon droid would scan his exposed palm, before he slipped on his left glove, the red eye in its center forehead coming to life. The Mandalorian rubbed the back of his helmet, finding the plug in for his smartlink scope, and syncing Deezee's camera feed to his own. He quick double check of the firing capability of his weapon ensured that he was locked and loaded. He opened the door to his cabin, his toothy visor gazing down the corridor beyond...
(Feel free to post in. Left the captain to the imagination. Left the crew size to imagination. Left the problem to imagination. You might well BE the problem. )
