The Search
She lifted up her paw to scratch an itch on her nose. It took a nanosecond to register that it was a hand and not a paw. It took another to notice her nose was not even itchy. With her raised hand she rubbed her dry lips instead, to hide her smiling at her own forgetfulness. That leet morph died five minutes ago, silly girl. She thought about reexecuting the program to better tuck herself away from the crowds on Borealis’ main street, but she decided to remain in her own skin and shook out the folds of her dark cloak to wrap around her more gently as she sat down. A cloud broke apart overhead and a tiny bit of sunlight came out to warm her face for a moment. Then a shadow stepped in, and a small backpack was flung at her feet.
“You neutrals think you can just bask in the sunlight all day, Ms Aislers?” It wasn’t contempt in her voice, not really, but the fixer’s voice was hardly what anyone would call friendly.
She looked up at Paxcorpus and grinned, “I’d explain it again, but you just wouldn’t understand, dear.”
Pax snapped immediately, “You know who the package is for. And dammit, don’t call me dear!” and she hastily encoded her body into the Grid with a growl. Such was a typical conversation with that particular Omni-Tek fixer.
She toed the small bag with her boot as if to nudge the flap open. Sealed shut, of course. How could I expect otherwise from Pax? Hmm…. I wonder what she’s dealing in this time…
She briefly considered opening the backpack, but then she remembered the last time she had let curiosity take over. It had been a while ago. She had agreed to hold a package for another fixer who went by the callsign Lastsecond2, and, while standing around bored waiting for his contact to arrive, she had glanced inside the bag and then nearly dropped it in shock. There had been at least a dozen or more skimpy white thongs peeking back out at her. Immediately she had snapped the bag shut and sent a link out to Last.
[To Lastsecond2]: um… why are you smuggling ladies underwear?! shocked
[Lastsecond2]: wha? Oh you opened the bag… disapproval
[Lastsecond2]: those are athletic supporters that can be crafted into some very nice armor later, Jaja. exasperated
[To Lastsecond2]: uh… okie… whatever you say. disbelief
The unsavory image of a horde of atrox in those white thongs made her shudder. Who knew where the shipment was going. She really didn’t want to know.
She had stopped glancing in delivery packages after that, however, which is probably why Pax would even use her in this situation. But not trust, never that.
Before she could continue with that line of thought, this particular package's recipient stepped around the corner. It was a young neutral trader she was familiar with. “Thanks, Miki, I appreciate it. Hope Pax wasn’t too much her terrible self.”
“Nothing I can’t handle. I’m used to dealing with Omni-Tek employees, actually,” she replied. The trader smiled again and headed towards the bank indoors. And what the adventurer had said was true, Miki “Jajangmyun” Aislers had spent more than enough time around Omni-Tek Corp and its employees to understand them well enough.
It wasn’t really something she talked about much. She wasn’t sure if it was paranoia or just her usual reticent nature, but she hardly ever mentioned her parents or the fact that they were once Omni-Tek employees themselves. Once, in an unguarded moment, she had chatted about this history to a friend. A friend? Well, to a certain OT agent she knew as Crackshot. Even as the story left her mouth she knew there was a risk involved, but she accepted them. As for the agent, Crackshot had disappeared again soon after that day, but that was hardly unusual. But as much as she loved her parents, they were actually not at the top of her concerns these days. She knew their exact location at every moment, and what they had for breakfast and what they would have for dinner. If nothing else, a career with OT does promote that sense of security that comes from living an orderly life.
No, at the top of her concerns was the growing number of her friends listed as MIA, missing in action. She accepted that several of her friends would often accept dangerous missions to the remotest corners of the planet and lose contact for weeks at a time. Working as freelancers was risky business, but they all accepted this as a part of their way of life. And then when those kooky Jobean scientists had opened the portals to the Shadowlands, several of her contacts had been lost to the war on the Brink. Fallen, drowned, or devoured by a mountain of animate rocks. The war had taken its toll on her friends, neutral, Omni, and clan alike.
Her communications device blinked and she tapped it to take the call. “Hey, Jaja!” It was Rawenna, the leader of the clan organization Serenity, “How are you guys liking your new city?” A few weeks back Rawenna had helped broker a real estate contract that allowed Shattered Dreams break their existing city contract in Stret East Bank to move to a spot in Newland. The move hadn’t been easy, but with the help of a friendly master architect, Guojia of New Movement, the city was reestablished with the finests of qualities they could afford and then some.
The reasons for the move were various, but the ones noone voiced aloud were the memories.
<to be continued…>
((not a very exciting start, but I guess I gotta start somewhere... ))
[edited some bits for clarity.]
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