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Post by jaedon on Jul 27, 2011 17:01:45 GMT -5
Sgt. Storm had only one major job aboard this vessel and it was the weapons. She took her job very seriously. Every day she got up and oiled them, one by one, taking them apart and putting them back again. She checked the chambers, the bullets, everything to make sure that if shit went down they would be covered. Hell, she even made sure that the automatic guns on the ship were in working order and not frozen in deep space.
It was during one of her routine cleanings that she noticed a closet that was so camouflaged that she didn't berate herself too bad for missing it. It was by pure accident that she had dropped a screw and felt a brush of air touch her hand. The breeze sparked her curiosity and she found a hidden panel with a big box inside. Being a guard and in charge of this room she naturally pulled it out and opened it. Inside she found 2 weapons; which they'll have to pry from her cold, dead, fingers before she'll ever let it go. A .50 cal sniper rifle and a shot gun. Now the .50 cal was the standard issue with the huge ass bullets to go with it. Storm wasted no time strapping that huge bad boy to her back. It was heavy, a bit awkward, but if she learned anything from her CO Aziel that if she showed any weakness towards it someone might take it from her.
Now the shotgun was a single pump action. The great part about it though was it came with paintball capsules and bean bags. Obviously a non-lethal way to settle things around her. Storm loaded the shotgun with bean bags and strapped some rounds of paint ball to her inner thighs. She pumped the shot gun before locking the cargo bay and going for a walk. Trouble was afoot and she was going to find some ... or make some.
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Post by Shaight Sabyce on Jul 27, 2011 22:18:35 GMT -5
Shaight, unaware of this presence in the cargo bay, was lurking among the crates. It was hard to find anything he wanted, due to the sheer number of boxes in the place. Cargo bay workers, he thought, must have some sort of application on their vidphones to keep track of what was what. But sneaking through the stacks glancing at each label in turn was not very efficient. Nor very safe. At least not for a human. The Garar was crawling up the crates in his bare feet, leaving enormous claw dents in the wood, metal, and plastic.
Laundry Soap, he read to himself, dismissing the crate and climbing up one. Spare Uniforms. Survival MiniDomes. He paused at this last one. "Where do they think we're going to use those?" he wondered aloud, before moving on. Freeze-Dried Peas. "They really need a whole crate for that?" He looked down. He was getting pretty high up, almost to the lowest catwalk. Nearly to the top of the stack, actually. He saw a forklift start up a few rows over, and scuttled to the other side of his stack to continue his search.
Anyone who knew Shaight could easily have told you what he was looking for: the medical supplies. In particular, the drugs. Prescription medication had an ancient history of use and abuse, and in his line of work, it was always the latter.
Misc. Replacement Buttons. Toilet-Cleaning Supplies. The crate he was currently latched onto gave an alarming creak. Shaight hurriedly climbed to the next one, which caused the one he had vacated to give out on one side. He had just enough time to read the label on the one just above him at the very top -- Anesthetics and Analgesics -- before an avalanche of toilet-cleaning products crashed to the floor. There was a weary groan, and the crate of medication slammed down after it and burst open with what seemed like the loudest noise he had ever heard.
Frustrated, thinking quickly, Shaight's eyes darted to the nearby forklift, whose driver had heard the commotion and was on its way over. He swung to the floor, grabbed a couple handfuls of the little ampules, shoved them in his pockets and up his sleeves, and scrambled back up the crates. He made his way quickly to the opposite site of the cargo bay and dared to steal a look at the mess. The forklift operator was scratching his head, and he had been joined by another couple of crew members who were trying to clean up. Shaight, dangling from the side of a high-up crate, sighed in relief.
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Post by jaedon on Jul 28, 2011 13:23:53 GMT -5
Storm didn't see the commotion however she did hear the crash and turned in the direction of the noise. She unlocked the door she had came from and opened it in time to see some alien species (she never bothered to learn the name of them all. It seemed everyday they were discovering a new one); to be politically correct Sentinel climbing the crates and wall as her suppose co-workers looked around confused.
"Look up," Storm said to herself. "Come on, look up, look up." Storm was mumbling to herself waiting for the time when her human counterparts would realize something was amiss and would see if maybe just maybe a sentinel had a hand in this. Of course no one ever looks up. No one ever sees more than what was in front of them. The workers began cleaning probably believing that the crates had been stacked crookedly and finally toppled.
Storm pulled the shot gun to her shoulder, aimed, and knew that from her angle she would miss the little devil that had broken into her sector and caused a mess. She hadn't seen everything, but she could put two and two together. She wasn't sure why it was here, just knew it wasn't supposed to be there and that gave her permission to fire! And on that thought she pulled the trigger. She was right the bean bag hit the crate just a few millimeters from it's foot or claw. She pumped the shot gun again as she started running towards it and fired a second bag. Oh right, she was supposed to be saying something along the lines of .."STOP OR I'LL SHOOT."
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Post by Shaight Sabyce on Jul 28, 2011 21:55:27 GMT -5
Shaight, watching the humans, didn't think to check behind him. His tail swished back and forth in agitation as he waited for the fuss to die down. After a few moments he took one hand carefully off the crate, leaving his feet and other hand to hold him to it, and began to count the ampules he had stolen. He had only gotten to three when the baton round slammed into the crate right next to his foot.
Not even comprehending what was going on, Shaight took off, scrambling from crate to crate to try and get some boxes between himself and whoever was firing at him. A second shot hit a crate just above his head, and only then did he hear the voice calling after him. "A bit late don't you think, sweetheart?" he called out between leaps. He'd been shot at enough times in his life to be able to tell these were non-lethal rounds, but oddly enough, the term 'non-lethal' was flexible to the kind of people who designed shotguns. If that last one had hit its target, it could have broken his neck.
He finally managed to get on the other side of the stack. He could hear her footsteps, and didn't dare to peek around the side in case he was hit in the face with one of her rounds.
"I was just looking for the... the freeze-dried peas..." he tried. "I work in the kitchen, you can check!" He was panting slightly, expecting to see the guard round the corner at any moment. "Shaight Sabyce, look it up..." He decided to chance it and eased out from under cover, ready to bolt again at any moment. "What say we laugh about this misunderstanding over a drink...? I know where we can get booze..." He wondered if he had any chance of convincing her not to fire on him again.
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Post by jaedon on Jul 29, 2011 11:38:57 GMT -5
Storm was having way too much fun and she emptied her shotgun as she chased the little bugger. That didn't phase her; she simply reloaded with bright purple paintballs. The satisfying click as she pushed each cartridge into place only made her more eager to spray the Sentinel, and if Lady Luck was on her side, in the face. Oh, she didn't want to kill it just a little bit of pain for mucking up her precious cargo bay. She laughed at his comment and her response was to aim, pull the trigger, and shoot once more. This time the satisfying splat of purple hitting a crate and the liquid slowly sliding down it side.
Storm was fast. Unfortunately, it was a fast little bugger too and though she hadn't quite lost sight of it she didn't know exactly where it was. She knew it was around here somewhere. She heard it call out to her and she stopped listening to the voice not sure if it was throwing its voice or if it really was calling out to her and giving away it's exact location. Storm took a step .. then another .. and another. She pulled up her comms and typed in the name. At first it read Sentinel not found. Storm tried once more this time only typing in SHA She found the Sentinel.
Storm was about to speak, but he moved from behind the crate and the shot gun was immediately in his face. "It says here you are whom you say you are. Unless you were able to hack the system and install a picture of yourself over some other convict." Storm pumped the shotgun. "So let's assume I DON'T believe you. Let's assume I think you were rummaging around for gun, convict, and that's why you didn't fill out a form for more peas. You want a mutiny. You want to kill the guards. You want to kill everyone." Storm lowered the shotgun down slightly now making a non-lethal weapon lethal. She was aiming for the only spot that would actually quickly kill Shaight.
"So, Convict, you show me what you got; you wouldn't have ran unless you took something. I'm not stupid and do not insult me again. And I'll let you live." Storm pulled the trigger and the shot gun just clicked without firing. "Opps, Safety." Storm purposely clicked the safety to off and raised an eyebrow waiting.
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Post by Shaight Sabyce on Jul 29, 2011 19:50:32 GMT -5
In the brief second Shaight was able to look around, he saw purple paint splattered all over the crates and walls. So she'd changed ammo. Well at least getting hit with one of those wouldn't be as bad as... Oh. There she was. And there it was: the gun. In his face. He looked at the device in her hand, which featured a slowly rotating image of his face, his name, his job title, and several other interesting facts about him. He was glad he hadn't lied about who he was, or he'd likely have his brain replaced with purple paintballs by now.
His faint hope faded as she continued to speak. No, he hadn't been searching for guns, and though his products had a habit of killing people who overused them, he had no desire for murder or mutiny. The gun lowered the slightest bit to point straight at his eye. He shivered involuntarily. "I swear, all I wanted was the peas! I uh... I didn't fill out the form because... I didn't want to inconvenience anyone." His eyes cast to the mess of toilet cleaner and medical supplies on the other side of the hold, where the few who had gathered to clean were now helplessly eyeing the paint splatters they would have to tend to next. "That was just an accident," he insisted in a rueful tone. "I s-swear." Uh-oh. The slight stammer was not en effect of fear, but a general symptom of the withdrawal that was now creeping in on him. Shaight refused to let his hands tremble, but it wouldn't be long before he couldn't control it.
Ugh, she wanted to see what he'd taken. He hedged for a moment, wondering if he should pretend not to know what she was talking about. As he thought, he saw her finger suddenly squeeze the trigger, and he flinched back, eyes closed. After a few seconds of not being dead, he opened them again. "That was a dirty trick, ma'am," he muttered. His long tongue came out to lick his teeth, then vanished back into his mouth. An unfortunate effect of his sudden movement was that little 'clink' sounds could be heard from within his jacket, and he could no longer pretend to have nothing there. With a sigh, he emptied the contents of his pockets onto the top of the nearest crate. One of the ampules rolled off onto the floor and shattered. "Now how did those get there?" he mock-wondered. If he was really lucky, maybe she wouldn't know what they were, just confiscate them and let him go. He still had some (literally) up his sleeve, so perhaps the trip wouldn't be a total waste.
"What are you going to do with me, ma'am? Throw me in the brig? Cuff me to my bed?" The latter suggestion caused his natural Garar grin to widen, if possible. "I d-don't think I'd mind that, with you." She wasn't bad-looking, no, not bad at all. Not that Shaight was picky. The fact that this was neither the time nor the place never failed to fly over his head.
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Post by jaedon on Aug 1, 2011 2:05:06 GMT -5
Storm lifted an eyebrow at his statement. If he really was going only for the peas than she was stupider than a Gadasha and those things were known to pull a the pin on a grenade and say opps before blowing to pieces. Storm pumped the shotgun once more causing a cartridge to fly out of the chamber, but she didn't care. She was giving him one more chance than she was going to pull the trigger and explain to her CO what happened. Storm was already thinking of a good lie about how she caught him masturbating in one of the boxes and ... no that's not a a killing offense.
Storm figured the stuttering was a sign of Shaight's guilt. She slowly smiled when she heard his mutter about a dirty trick after she had pulled the trigger and conveniently forgot about the safety. Her eyes rolled down looking at his body after hearing the clang of metal. Guns. She was sure of it. She watched him empty his pockets and was disappointed that it was just medical supplies. "Junkie? You're a junkie?" Storm was so disappointed she shot him in the leg feeling a satisfying moment when she saw the purple paintball splatter against him. She knew it probably hurt and especially at close rang.
"Keep it. Don't come back thinking you can get more or I'll put you in the brig, seal off the room, and fill it slowly with water. Don't steal from us ever again!" She ignored his attempt at seduction or whatever he was trying. Storm might have thought about hooking up. Hell, it was a long trip and she could use a little excited, but a junkie?!
Storm turned away overly disappointed before she sharply turned back and pointed the gun at his crotch this time. "Is that all of it or is there more? I promise you the safety is off and I do not want a lie. I will make sure that any children you do have will come out with a few screws loose."
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Post by Shaight Sabyce on Aug 3, 2011 12:37:19 GMT -5
"Ugh!" Shaight had a rather high tolerance for pain, but this hurt. He clutched at the purple splotch, wincing. When he took his hand away, it was covered in paint. He wiped it on his jacket, or tried, because in the end he just served to spread the thick substance all over both hands, his jacket, his undershirt, and his pants. Now that would be something to explain to whoever's path he crossed. He wondered if they would think his species bled purple, and that he'd been in a horrible fight. After all, who ever heard of a paintball gun aboard an IO ship?
So she thought he was just a simple junkie? Well, that worked better for him, but it did wound his pride a little. To any judge, official or unofficial, possession of illegal substances was a much more minor offense than distribution, so he wouldn't correct her. Actually, in this case it might work a little better to play up his symptoms to make it look like his little dependence habit was more serious. He relaxed his fingers, allowing them to twitch now and then uncontrollably, eyes darting back and forth. It wasn't hard to do. After all, it was barely an exaggeration.
He was a little disappointed that she did not respond to his advances, either positively or negatively. It was so much more fun when they were offended by the thought than when they ignored him completely. "W-well sooner or later you'll get a little frisky, being on board for weeks with no... company." He tapped a claw on her vidphone, which still displayed his grinning, rotating visage. "I'm sure you'll know how to f-find me."
Oh great, she wanted the rest of his supply. He considered pretending he had none, but the gun pointed directly at his most important parts convinced him it was probably a much better idea to go along with it. It seemed like she was going to let him go, and even keep his find, so what was the harm in showing the rest? "Okay, okay," he said slowly, holding his hands in the air. "Don't shoot, now. I'm just getting the rest." Because in any other case, a man reaching into his sleeves in this situation might be cause for alarm. After a quick movement, several more vials of analgesics tumbled from his jacket onto the crate from each sleeve. "That's it. And if you think there's any more, y-you'll have to strip search me." Just a junkie feeding his habit, he willed her to think. Nothing to see here. At the same time he edged his way behind a crate that would cover him to the waist. The family jewels were rather important to him.
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Post by jaedon on Aug 4, 2011 11:48:04 GMT -5
Storm watched him swipe the goo all over the place. It looked like paint, but it didn't seem to act like regular paint. The sentinel could not get it off his hands. It seemed harmless enough. He wasn't jumping around screaming in pain or acting like she had just melted off his skin like hot wax. Now that she thought about it she probably should have checked the paint before just firing it anyone. Who knows what could have been in there aside from paint. She mentally slapped herself in the head for not being thorough. She would have never let that slip before. Which meant she was getting lax in her duties.
Storm however didn't miss that now that the cat was out of the bag little Shaight was now acting more like a junkie. Storm assumed he was trying to hide it from her before and that made her even more sad. A junkie. On her ship. She should have known better. She rolled her eyes at sentinel. "If I do get frisky what can you do for me? You'll either be too high to get it up or needing a fix to do it right. It won't be worth the time. Pity, criminals usually know how to give it ... hard!"
Storm eyed the man and sighed. Nope totally not worth it. She turned off her vid phone and put it in her pocket not liking that he touched her things. She narrowed her eyes and her finger twitched when he went inside his sleeves. She assumed, like all soldiers, that he was going for a gun, but his pleas still her itchy trigger finger. She held back and waited only to see more drugs. Storm blinked and looked from Shaight to the drugs to the more drugs and back to Shaight.
"You're a junkie dealer? Or a selfish junkie? I haven't decided on which, but that is a LOT of drugs. You'll OD if you try to use that much." She let him move as she watched him and decided that since she can't technically kill him without getting in trouble, and he had stole from her, and plus he touched her things. She should help him. "Follow me junkie. You want drugs, you don't steal it. You'll only get them from me, but only when you ask and for a cut. If I ever catch you in here again I. Will. Kill. You."
Storm kept walking down the hall, past the guards who were looking less than thrilled with her, into the back section. "I'm Sgt Storm. You may call me Sgt Storm or just Storm. I require at least 20 crystals for one dosage and for higher dosages we'll talk." Storm kept walking and led him to a bright white room. She walked in and let him follow behind her. "If you say a word of this to anyone. I will deny all charges then have you killed for falsifying information against a uniformed guard, slander, and perjury."
"Deal?" Storm didn't truly wait for his reply. In the mostly barren room was a bed. She glanced at it. "Did you really want to fuck?"
((did not know the currency))
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Post by Shaight Sabyce on Aug 10, 2011 11:48:04 GMT -5
Shaight frowned at this disparagement of his sexual prowess. She didn't have to be so rude about it. "I assure you, ma'am," he said, "I am a professional." Just ask half my female clientele, he added mentally, though of course he could not say so aloud.
He saw her looking at the rather extensive supply on display. Oh well, at least she had offered an easy explanation. "Well with guards like you around here, I didn't know how often I could g-get away with stealing," he explained, looking sheepish. "It's a long trip. I meant to get something that would last."
When she informed him that he must pay from then on, his spirits rose (though he put a horrified expression on his face). He hadn't been expecting to get away with this little mission at all, and even then he had thought it would be his last. Now to learn he could get a new supply whenever he wanted as long as he paid for it... Well anyway, he'd have to be careful with how much he requested. If he sold all of it and needed more right away, it would look very suspicious, since, as she'd pointed out, he could OD on that large a stash. Money would be no problem either, in his line of work, though she couldn't be allowed to know that. He kept the crestfallen look on his face. "Where am I supposed to get the money for that?" he complained, as though the idea of selling some never occurred to him. But he 'reluctantly' agreed: "Deal," he muttered. He would have held out his hand to shake on it, if he hadn't thought she would assume he was trying to take her gun or something.
He suddenly noticed their surroundings. The were in... her room? This looked promising indeed. Especially with her next question. "Sergeant, I never joke about sex."
((OOC: Ahem. I should probably inform you that we can't do anything super explicit, since it's a proboards site. My last site got deleted for it D: ))
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Post by jaedon on Aug 16, 2011 12:58:11 GMT -5
(((LOL kind sir you do not know me at all. and I know proboards rules. I would have blacked it out or taken it to pm if you truly wished to rp that, but alas Sgt Storm is a ... bitch)))
Storm turned so that her back was to the wall and Shaight was standing next to the bed. She arched an eyebrow. She hadn't expected the junkie to not agree. She knew where he would come up with the money. He would sell what he needed to and use the rest himself. She would in turn be a drug lord and that wasn't in Storm's repertoire. Nope she wasn't not a drug dealer and she sure as shit wasn't going to let some Sentinel piece of shit come in and just start stealing from her and her crew. She sure wasn't going to let him think he could get away with anything and now he would know for sure not to F.ck with Sgt Storm.
"Good. I told you before. I don't fuck junkies. So..."
Storm turned and closed the door. She locked it and opened a small window. A holding cell. "I think with all of your drugs on the deck two floors above this room will do you good. Withdrawal will be hard, but I'm sure 3 weeks to detox should be enough. I don't know. I'm not a doctor. Maybe a month?" Storm smiled and the look touched her eyes and made her seem evil.
"Once you are clean I'm sure we can have a lot of fun. Until then ..." Storm closed the window and marched away. He could scream, but no one would hear it. She would need to get food and water. Oh she was just too nice sometimes.
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