Crux Fleet NPCs (
crux_npcs) wrote in
crux_fleet2014-04-01 02:35 pm
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0006: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING
Who: New Arrivals, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Aprilo 1st
Warnings: None
When awakening, the immediate surroundings are swarming with activity. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. They move with a practiced efficiency, already veterans of this kind of thing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.
The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a giant, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The tiles are black and featureless while the walls are nice, soothing colors. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. Set into the ceiling and floor near the front is a large holographic projector. The floor in front of each seat also has a smaller projector, allowing people to see what the bigger device is showing without having to angle for a view. As of now, it merely displays a rotating pyramid.
Three Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. One man stands at the head. Graham Baker, a middle-aged man showing the first signs of balding and wearing a wrinkled business suit, clasps his hands behind his back and smiles.
[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Aprilo 1st
Warnings: None
When awakening, the immediate surroundings are swarming with activity. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. They move with a practiced efficiency, already veterans of this kind of thing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.
The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a giant, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The tiles are black and featureless while the walls are nice, soothing colors. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. Set into the ceiling and floor near the front is a large holographic projector. The floor in front of each seat also has a smaller projector, allowing people to see what the bigger device is showing without having to angle for a view. As of now, it merely displays a rotating pyramid.
Three Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. One man stands at the head. Graham Baker, a middle-aged man showing the first signs of balding and wearing a wrinkled business suit, clasps his hands behind his back and smiles.
[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]
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"Not long enough to forget that bullshit," he replies, shaking his head. "New digs, pal. Back in space again too, if the space ships didn't clue you in."
He makes little circular motions with his fingers over his head.
"At least you get your own room this time, yeah?" he adds with a toothy grin.
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"Anyone else come along for the ride? --As lovely as it is to see your face of course, darling." Christ, he feels as if he's stepped off the transport pad with a batch of new arrivals. Which could be all this is. Same universe, different rules isn't outside the scope of imagination. Like Nate has said - this wasn't exactly the first time the Initiative had landed them in space.
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"You can't tell me that, I haven't even gotten to shave," he chuckles. "Looks like its just you and me, buddy."
He gives Charlie a once-over, squinting at the placement of his gun and letting his eyes slip upward to change the subject. "Got everything? I can at least get you to the apartments."
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"That's the lot of it," he says, voice absent - distracted. He looks back to Nate, sets his jaw. Right. Get on with it, Cutter. "No grand tour?"
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"I mean, its no snowy tundra, but its pretty easy to navigate once you know where you're going," he adds. "Even for you."
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"So, what's the setup then? Find a gig to work yet?"
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He seems to pick up that he's rambling, since he's stopped and forgotten where he was going. Nate picks back up on the trail easy enough though, and continues talking.
"The staff here is pretty big on contributing to their little movement. They'll want you to saddle up, or pick up a book -- which I'm pretty sure is reason the demand is so low," Nate adds, rubbing his thumb against his two fingers to complete his implication. The Black Market seemed healthy on the outside, but when it came down to it, nobody wanted anything that was easy to lift -- and anything that was difficult to lift was also difficult to price.
"But I'm sure we can work something out."
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The state of the Black Market doesn't come as much of a surprise either. Closed off economy on the ass end of the solar system (or universe, whatever you like) on top of someone mentioning fabbers, rendering cheap bullshit even cheaper-- At least this place seemed big, densely populated. Easier to slip away. Made a good market for running quick cons.
Charlie follows a half step behind, eyes flicking across their surroundings as they go, fumbling with the comm band around his wrist. "No tracking system in these, as far as you know?"
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Nate turns around and starts to walk backwards, offering Charlie an easy grin. "Though I'll bet they'll love to see a big fella like you playing security."
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Its accented with a shrug. "Not much to it, or anything else they're trying to shove in my head really. Don't know how long I'm going to keep up with it, seeing that I learn faster on my own."
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Not that he's thinking about needing one. Nate, all lame wisecracks and brief points of contact, walking at a clip along the lane is really all he needs. So long as he doesn't think too much (hard to do), so long as he doesn't let himself settle into his own skin too quickly, there'll be nothing to fuss over.
Really.
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"I can send you what I've got, but this place isn't much like Exsilium in that respect. They don't have much set up for the new folks beyond what you got a few minutes ago," he sighs, not bothering to unloop his arm as he reaches over to tap a few buttons on his own communicator. In a few short moments, Charlie will be pinged by a small text file.
"I haven't been here long, but I managed to gather some stuff." He takes a moment to tap his pocket where his journal sits -- where the majority of his notes sit.
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He lifts his head from his watch, letting his other hand fall to his side while Charlie skims and Nate continues to lead until they approach the apartments. "Besides, you've got me. That's like the next best thing, right?"
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But there are indeed worse things in the world. Or universe-- whatever you like. He could make a list enumerating those points, but it'd be god awful long and dull on top of everything else (or depressing, and he's not thinking about that; he has his arm linked with Nate's and they're meandering down the damned space promenade instead).
As they approach the structure, Charlie gives it a nod. "I take it this is the place?"
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Something seems to dawn on Nate and he turns just enough to throw Charlie a knowing smirk. "Speaking of conglomerates, there's at least one building in this dump I know you'll appreciate," he adds, nodding off in another direction. He only knew because he had spent a lot of time there himself the passed two weeks instead of doing work for Lazarevic.
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"When's the last time you've read anything that wasn't a how-to guide or shitty UE propaganda, Charlie?"
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"You had better not be having one over on me, Drake."
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He nods his head off in said direction and starts to walk, stuffing his hands in his pockets stiffly until the pistol in his bicep starts to bother him, at which point he will relax. He hasn't eaten a damn thing all day due to nerves -- Charlie's arrival hadn't helped.
There were so many things he wanted to say. To warn Charlie of Lazarevic, to try and convince Charlie to help him get Chloe out of dodge...but the reality of it was that neither desire outweighed the desire to keep Charlie from running face first into death.
He'd have to figure something else out.
"Don't tell me you don't trust me."
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"It's not that I don't trust you. It's that I've become a bit bitter and jaded; you know. The usual suspects and all that."
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Too bad Sully wasn't here. His cynicism, at least, was something Nate expected.
"Don't worry, mate. I wouldn't do that to you."
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"Now come on, you can't tell me there's a library and you haven't got a whole list of reference material yet. What have you been doing all day, having a go at it over a few old nat geos?"
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"There's also a whole district dedicated to religions from all over the damn place," he points out with a certain proud note to his voice. No no. Nathan Drake has definitely been busy.
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