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Gaining Notoriety; Rem & Vash
Topic Started: May 7 2015, 08:47 PM (314 Views)
Rem
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The Super Namek
Title: Gaining Notoriety

Location: Ruins of Cauldron/Suicide Station

Difficulty: Medium

Description: Accidents happen. It seems that the gang you obliterated the other day was in fact working under the table for Siberius. They were secretely paying him a share of their earnings, buying the right to be the top gang on Suicide Station. Siberius has sent his top henchman, Barnak, to let you know you have 72 hours to come up with the payment the gang would have made this week, or you will be forced to leave Suicide Station- through an airlock.

Reward:
+600 zeni, +10 DP, +70 all stats, +10 Rp Credits

Requirement: Getting Noticed quest complete.
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<br><SELECT style="background-color: #83F52C; color: #000000; font-family: Lucida Calligraphy; font-size: 14px; width: 200px; "><br /><OPTION>Rem</OPTION><br /><OPTION>"NO CHANCE!"</OPTION><br /></div><br /><OPTION>Power Level: 707,000</OPTION></div>
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Vash
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Gross...
The search for rem was definitely not going as well as he thought it would have. Then again, stumbling on to a space station filled to the brim with some of the universes most scummy of scum bags, not knowing anyone, and effectively wandering around going person to person asking, "have you seen my friend?" Wasn't the brightest idea he had ever conjured up. But, now that he thought about it, it definitely wasn't the worst plan he ever had, either.

Each path he took seemed to wind up at a dead end. Only rumors and whispers of the namekian warrior were surfacing. It became clear to Vash that rem really didn't want to be found, and he was doing a hell of a job of covering his tracks.

Thoughts swirled around the demons mind like a toilet being flushed as he lay awake in the shitty little hotel room he had rented aboard Suicide Station. What if he really couldn't find rem? What if he was wasting his time for a lost cause? And would rem even want to see him if he ever found the little green bastard? Vash turned over and pulled the blanket up over his head, trying to block out the painful thoughts that were stinging his mind like a swarm of hornets. I'm just not trying hard enough, he thought. There has to be something I'm not getting, someone I'm not asking the right questions to... At times like these, it used to be, he would turn to Rem for guidance. But clearly, that was no longer an option.

Suddenly, a knock at the door jostled the blond haired demon from his near trance like state. This most certainly couldn't be good. No one should of known he was here. Only someone looking for trouble would be calling at this hour. His crystal clear blue eyes glanced at the clock which was flashing 12 on and off. Damn, he thought. He had been meditating so long he didn't even know what time it was. And on top of that the clock hadnt been set to a proper time.

He jumped out of bed, his bare feet cold on the freezing linoleum tiled floor. He was only in his underwear, the scars that covered his body were accentuated by the faint glow of the nearby star that provided the only bit of natural light to the space station. He bounced over to his twin demonsbanes and grabbed one of them, walking only on the balls of his feet, trying to make as little noise as possible. He quickly and quietly removed the weapon from its sheath and tip toed over to the door with it held away from his body.

He couldn't hear anyone. It was getting increasingly nerve wracking. With one eye, Vash peered through the peep hole to try to get a look at who was interrupting him. Not a soul could be seen. His heart began to race. His knuckles gripped white on the swords handle as, with his free hand, he grabbed the door handle. He had to be ready for an attack. He pulled his blade up into an attack position and pulled the door open.

No one. He looked left down the hallway, then turned and looked to the right. There was no movement in the hall. His eyes looked down. There, on the floor in front of his door, was an envelope. Crudely scribbled on the front was the name "Maul." Someone had done some research on him, and found out the name that his space craft was registered to.

He raised an eyebrow curiously before once again checking down both ways of the hallway. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. Whoever had dropped the letter off was long gone by now. That is a good sign, I guess, he thought as he bent over and scooped the envelope up and shut the hotel room door behind him. He locked the handle, the dead bolt, and the chain that were all connected to the door. As shitty as this hotel was, it certainly had it's security on lock down.

Vash walked back across the room and tossed the envelope onto the wooden night stand next to the bed before plopping back on the bed himself. He tossed his sword onto his balled up pile of clothes in the corner, and let out a heavy sigh.

He thought about it for a few minutes, whether to open the letter or not. There was a possibility that someone was out to kill him, especially after the events of the day before. Images of his sword fight in the bar and the subsequent decapitation via crab arm flashed through his mind. He let out a brief chuckle. It was a little funny, to him at least, that he used an aliens severed arm to strangle it's own friend with. Vash had a sick sense of humor.

Vash's foot began to tap impatiently against the side of his bed, his eyes still locked on to the tan envelope with his alias' name scribbled across the front of it. What if it was a trap ? Someone could have slipped anthrax or some other kind of harmful chemical inside. If someone wanted to quietly take the demon out effectively without taking a whole lot of risk, that would be One hell of a way of going about it.

But, Vash had kind of a sixth sense for those sorts of things, and he sensed no danger in opening it. So, with another heavy sigh released from his lungs, he reached over and grabbed the off white envelope. He ripped the top of it open and pulled out a single piece of paper, with the same shotty handwriting scribbled all over it:

Lord Maul, his eyes followed the lines of penmanship.
While I am certainly pleased that someone with your particular set of skills has arrives at Suicide Station, it is my harrowing duty to inform you that yesterday you have made the gravest of mistakes. You see, the people you so skillfully killed yesterday happened to have a certain arrangement with my employer. And I am sorry to inform you that by eliminating them, you have inherited their debt. Now, my employer is a reasonable man and has agreed to give you a time frame of 72 hours to reimburse him for the damages you've caused, combined with the debt that now belongs to you, totaling in 29,429z. Failure to comply with these demands would be most unfortunate for yourself, I'm afraid. We will meet at the nightclub The Lockdown at 930 pm on Friday. I do hope you make the wise decision.

Sincerely,
Barnak

P.s. Don't run. I will find you. Thanks again.


Vash held the paper in his hands, allowing the message to really sink in. He blinked a few times, turned it over to see if there was anything on the back... Nope. His eyes glanced over it once more.

"Don't run, I will find you?!? .... Aaaahahahahaha" Vash let out a hearty laugh just before crumpling the note up and tossing it in the small waste paper basket on the other side of the room. The balled up parchment bounced off the lip of the metal can before falling in, he nearly missed the shot.

One thing was for sure. He wasn't about to be bullied into paying anyone a ridiculous7 amount of zeni like that. 30,000 dollars? Damages? Inherited debt? Just who the hell did this Barnak think he was? And who the hell did he work for? And the wording of the note, it was so polite, it was sickening...

Instead of finding answers and his long lost companion, he was only confronted with more questions. The search for rem could be placed on hold. Things here on suicide station were certainly peaking his interest. He was actually kind of anxious to find out who this Barnak was and who his employer was even more so.

That's when a bone chilling truth struck Vash like a bolt of lightning. This was almost exactly like the trap he nearly walked in to back on Frieza. That whole mess with the headhunters that went south all too quickly and ended with Vash leveling an entire skyscraper just to prove a point, and poor Anna had to watch all of it happen. She witnessed Vash's barbaric nature first hand from the best seats in the house. It was no wonder she took off right after all that went down. She was probably terrified of the destruction Vash could cause and didn't wish to get caught up in any more of the mayhem she already had. Good for you, Anna... He thought for a brief second. It was starting to make sense now.

The others probably saw the same psychopathic behavior in him and took off while they had the chance. The nameless faces of the group of warriors he had at one time called his friends. All nameless except for Rem anyway. Maybe that's why Rem had taken to hiding. To make sure that no one would be able to find him, especially Vash.

The demon shook the thought from his mind. No, that couldn't be it. He couldn't accept that as the answer. Everything would become clear as soon as he met up with Rem, if only he had a solid lead...

But, that had to be out on the back burner. If this Barnak character had a trap planned like the one he nearly walked into on Frieza, then there was certainly going to be hell to pay. Regardless, he was being extorted for money that he definitely didn't have and wasn't going to be able to get over the next three days, no matter how hard he worked for it. Leaving Suicide Station wasn't exactly an option either. No, he had to confront Barnak head on.

He had three entire days to prepare for the meeting. He was rather disappointed with his swordsmanship from the encounter at the bar. Three days seemed like a decent amount of time to hone not only his sword skills, but he needed to balance his mind. Three days to train and meditate. It was going to be the cleansing he needed.

*cue the 80s style training montage to the music of Hall and Oats*

----Mid afternoon of the third day.----

Vash walked the streets of Suicide Station on his way to the Lockdown night club. This was the location he was given to confront Barnak. He didn't have the money that was being demanded of him. But he had his demonsbanes. The last three days were spent vigorously training with his twin blades, honing his sword play. He couldn't afford another embarrassing display like the one at the wampa room.

After the situation on Frieza turned to shit, Vash was determined to make sure this wasn't a trap. He got to the night club with plenty of time to scope everything out. From the looks of things, everything seemed legitamite. This was an actual, working, and judging by the line out of the door, popular night club. The owner of this place was serious about running a profitable business it would seem. Vash wasn't getting the same suspicious feeling that plagued him back on Frieza.

He walked oh to the door, cutting the line of people. He could hear them groaning and complaining but he didn't care. He was stopped by a bouncer. "I have business with Barnak" he said in a calm, serious tone.

"Ah, lord maul," the doorman responded. "We've been expecting you, right this way."

That was pretty easy, Vash thought as he followed the mans lead, escorted through the pumping club and up a set a stairs to what had to have been baknars office. The bouncer knocked twice on the rich mahogany door and waited. Whoever this baknar was, he was white respected. "Come in," a deep, burly voice called from within.

The bouncer simply pushed the door open, allowing Vash to enter on his own accord. As he stepped into the luxurious office, his eyes met with the one who must have been baknar. He was a gigantic changeling, muscles built upon muscles. He was wearing a suit and sitting behind a desk that had to have been custom made in order to accommodate the large creature. Baknar was talking on the phone, rather aggressively and motioned for Vash to take a seat in the leather chair on the other side of his desk. The changeling held one of its claws up, instructing Vash that he would only be a moment longer.

The demons eyes began to move about the room, taking in the sights as the large changeling carried on his phone conversation. The walls were lined with plaques and certificates of achievement. Pictures with what Vash could only assume we're the rich and famous of this neck of the galaxy, taken with baknar himself broke up the monotony of the awards. There was one picture in particular that Drew Vash's eye for a closer inspection. He got up and walked over to it, to get a closer look. It was baknar shaking hands with a smaller changeling, obviously from planet Frieza itself. Something about this picture sent a chill up the demons spine. He did not like the smaller icer, that much was for sure. Something about the cold, dead look in his dark beady eyes...

Vash shook the feeling away and returned to his chair. Baknar was still in the middle of his conversation, which gave Vash a little more time to inspect his surroundings. A couple of fake plants took up the corner space, but, what really drew his attention was what hung on the wall behind the massive changelings chair. Three swords of increasing size rested on a rack, each had a quite intricate and decorative holster.

They appeared to be gifts, but, at the same time, Vash knew they were not just for looks. No. A couple of martial arts belts hung off of a gold hook beside them. And beside that was a picture of baknar with an elder looking swordsman. His mentor, perhaps. Baknar was both an executive and a warrior. His muscles weren't just for show, after all.

"And that's why we don't hire any more of those Ippenites, they work too fast and end up cutting corners. Right. Right. Well I'm paying top dollar and I expect quality results. Right. Alright then. Set it up with my secretary. The 14th. Right. Alright," baknar hung the phone up and let out a sigh, turning his attention to Vash who had, til this point, been waiting patiently. "I swear... If you want something done right you are better off doing it yourself." He shook his head as his sentence trailed off. An awkward silence fell between the two of them for a moment.

Vash cleared his throat, trying to break the silence. "Oh right," baknar snapped back to attention, like he had forgotten the whole purpose for Vash being there in the first place. "Lord maul. Quite a little show you put on at the wampa room yesterday, eh? It's actually kind of a shame. I had such high hopes for Ritchet and Frikk."

So, the two strangers Vash cut down the day before had names. He hadn't even bothered with learning them. They started the fight, after all.

Vash was sitting in silence. Letting baknar do the talking seemed to be the best option for right now. "Which brings me to the reason why you are here, lord maul. Let's see here..." Baknar flipped through some paperwork on his desk. He was obviously a business man of high importance. But why... Who did he work for... Who was that icer in the picture with him that was giving Vash the creeps so badly?

"Before we go any further," Vash spoke up finally, breaking his vow of silence. "You kept managing that you worked for somebody. I gotta know. Who is he? Is he that guy in that picture?" Vash pointed to the icer on the wall.

A smart ass kind of smile stretched across Barnaks face, if you could call whatever that was a smile. "You don't know who Siberius is?" He asked with a rhetorical sense of sarcasm. "Man, you've got a thing or two to learn about how Suicide Station works, my friend. Siberius is the man in charge. He's funded this entire operation. From the night clubs and the bars, anything that gets smuggled in or out of this space station, right down to the mining operation... Not a single piece of zeni exchanged hands without Lord Siberius getting his cut of it."

"Lord Siberius, huh..." Vash tossed the name out of his lips. "So that must make you his right hand man, then." His eyes locked on to Barnaks.

His smile only grew wider as he nodded his head, confirming Vash's deduction. This might actually be a stroke of luck. If anyone knew anything about Rems whereabouts, this Siberius character was definitely it. "How do I meet Siberius?" Vash asked, innocently enough.

Barnaks returned his question with an insulting laugh and a slight tap on his desk with his massive fist. "Oh, you don't meet him. Here on Suicide Station, Siberius meets you. And if he meets you, you better have your will written in advance. Because that is not good news for you, my friend," Barnak continued to laugh for a few more minutes. "You're new around here, so I'll forgive you on that one. But, you've got a lot to learn about how things work around here, boy-o. Now then, where were we? Ah yes, it was a matter of payment now wasn't it?" Vash could see the greed spark in BArnaks eye at the mere mention of zeni. It disgusted the demon to his very core. "Now will that be cash, or charge?"

"Neither," Vash said calmly and collectively. He could tell that the sentiment really pissed Barnak off. Time seemed to slow down once again for the demon. The changeling began to rise from his chair. But Vash was quicker. A gold handle letter opener lay on the desk next to a fancy clock. It began to levitate, seemingly on its own, but Vash was in complete control of the object. It rose in the air, only to come down hard like a javelin, puncturing Barnaks greedy little hand and effectively tethering him to the desk. The changeling began to write in pain and scream out. His body guards were clearly hired hands. Mostly there for decoration, like all the other things Barnak displayed so proudly in his little pathetic office. None of them held any loyalty, and anyone who was capable of fucking with Barnak was definitely not someone they felt they should get involved with.

Vash rose from his chair and straightened his jet black robes out. "You tell Siberius that I don't owe him shit," Vash spit on the carpet as he turned to walk away. "It's not my fault those goons attacked me and couldn't back it up."

"You... Little shit!" Barnak cursed as he fruitlessly tried to pry his hand from the desk.

"You tell him when he's ready to talk, he knows where to find me," the demon finished as he began to walk out of the door. "Oh, and Barnak..." He paused and turned to the man writhing in agony. "Next time you see me, you better have your will ready."

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Rem
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The Super Namek
Over the course of the next three weeks Rem would recieve four more visitors, respresentatives from Siberius himself. Apparently having come the first time, he figured the Namekians must be cowed enough for his minions to take care of business. Unfortunately, he was wrong. Rem had no intention of paying for 'security', or more aptly getting held up for massive amounts of cash by the crooked bastard who ran the place.

The first ones to visit were a couple Xeno's in smart suits and briefcases. They smelled of arrogance and musky cologne. In the room with Rem, they immediately launched into an explanation of how happy Siberius was with their renewed relationship, and started sliding papers across the table for Rem to sign. When the Namekian had made no move to sign any of them by the time a small stack had accumulated, they quieted and began to look confused.

Looking at the papers, Rem had to give it to Siberius. If he was going to rob you, he was going to do it legal. With a sigh, Rem made a move towards the papers at last. The businessmen sighed as well, thinking he was seeing reason. Instead, the moment the Namekians hand touched the table flames leapt two feet into the air- causing the two men to fall over themselves and their chairs, getting away from the stacks of paper and briefcases that contained them. In less than two seconds the fire was out, and no evidence but ash remained of the contracts they had wanted him to sign. "You may leave, now." Rem said simply, then rose and strolled out of the room.

Immediately he had headed back to the Quixote to check on repairs. He could see actual progress from the two days previous when he had come. He wasn't sure how long it would take to get the ship at least flyable, but he needed it that way soon. He could finish repairs elsewhere if he had to, but as long as the vessel was not space worthy he was putting his people in a precarious position here on Cauldron. If Siberius tried to throw his weight around with violence, Rem knew he could take care of it. What he didn't know was how many of his people might be caught in the crossfire before he did so.

-435
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<br><SELECT style="background-color: #83F52C; color: #000000; font-family: Lucida Calligraphy; font-size: 14px; width: 200px; "><br /><OPTION>Rem</OPTION><br /><OPTION>"NO CHANCE!"</OPTION><br /></div><br /><OPTION>Power Level: 707,000</OPTION></div>
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Rem
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The Super Namek
A week later the Namekian recieved his next visitors. This being was almost human it seemed, with skin just a slightly too pinkish red color for it to be true. His face was rather severe, and he had in tow a large Kanassan obviously brought along for intimidation factor. As soon as he was in Rem's room he strode forward and set his briefcase on the table. His hands moved to the two locking clasps, preparing to open them. "Lord Siberius would appareciate if you would sign the contracts, now, Master Sorreh. Shall you comply?" An eyebrow rose high in an almost mocking seriousness.

Rem only give a slight smile to the man, not even bothering to look at the hired muscle, then turned and walked out of the room. Just as the door was closing behind him he could hear the litigators voice, low and almost threatening; "There are consequences for ones actions on Suicide Station, Master Sorreh. Good Day."

That was the day Rem told his people that none of them were to leave the hotel for any reason. No more group trips to the bars or the entertainment centers. He took the threat very seriously. The hotel could keep them fed, and had a workout center and vid centers in each of the rooms. Sure, people would get cooped up and rather unhappy fast, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

An hour after the lawyer left, Rem was once more down at the ship watching the work crews. He went alone, not wanting to take any chances. Paryl and the other strong fighters were needed to protect those at the hotel, and he figured it would be less help than not to bring the weaker fighters for his own protection. Rather, he slipped his armor on and wore a deep cloak to cover it, attaching his scouter to give him warnings of any threats that might come.

The ship was coming together. The hyperdrive was nearing completion, and the bridge reconstruction was on its final stages. Another week and they might be able to get out of here it seemed. Maybe he would take Jen to Ippen afterall, for final repairs and a true vacation...

-412//847
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<br><SELECT style="background-color: #83F52C; color: #000000; font-family: Lucida Calligraphy; font-size: 14px; width: 200px; "><br /><OPTION>Rem</OPTION><br /><OPTION>"NO CHANCE!"</OPTION><br /></div><br /><OPTION>Power Level: 707,000</OPTION></div>
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Rem
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The Super Namek
Three weeks after his initial visit with Siberius, Rem recieved his last representative. A short, stout pfrog faced alien with TWO large Kanassan guards came up the elevator and stood inside Rems room, offering the contract to Rem without speaking a word. Thirty seconds of this was enough for Rem to snort and begin to turn to leave.

"Captain Sorreh..." A voice reached out to him, stopping him. Rem turned, looking at the frog man. The alien reached into the stretched too tight suit he was wearing and removed a thick piece of metal perforated with holes. A voice erupted from it. Rem realized it was a speaker of sorts. The voice was familiar, and the Namekian recognized it as SIberius. "Captain Sorreh, I am afraid my men can take no as an answer no longer. You need to sign the contracts, and allow my men to service the SilverFish and its crew as protection during your stay here."

"It ain't happening Sibs." Rem shot back, crossing his arms and looking over the three. "I feel as if you don't hear 'No' enough, but in this case you are going to have to take it as an answer."

"I see..." The voice from the speaker said, almost regretfully. "That is... unfortunate. Boys." The last word was a command. Rems body tensed, expecting attack. What he didn't expect was what happened.

In the next instant the three fighters seemed to move, as if magically. Rem felt a tingling on his face, chest, back, shoulders... everywhere. As if he had taken a shower under powerful jets. On either side of him the two Kanassans were breathing heavily, blood actually dripping between the cracks in their fingers. Their knuckles appeared smashed to bits. The frog faced mans face was a little blue, quickly morphing into fear.

"Boys?" Siberius voice came over the speaker again.

Instantly, Rem realized what he was dealing with. Before another second passed, the frog man dropped, passed out as Rem attacked him with one of his most powerful mental spikes. He wasn't dead, but he'd be in a coma for a while at the least. The two Kanassans faces instantly went to a horrified look, backing away from the Namekian they had apparently tried to beat the shit out of, and failed.

"Lord SIBERIUS!" One of them tried to explain in a quick yell. Before the second word finished Rem had planted a mystic form fist in his gut, causing the beings eyes to roll back in his head and body to drop to its knees. Rem looked to the second Kanassan, who only stared back in wide eyed terror.

Rem moved over to the frog mans body, grabbed the device, and crushed it. "Fucking Time Stop..." He cursed, letting the bits of metal fall frim his fingers. If he had indeed been a simple starship Captain, rather than one of the most powerful warriors in the Universe, that tactic would have actually worked....

"PARYL!" Rem shouted then, and the door behind him opened. His namekian second surveyed the scene in a moment. "Watch our guests until I get back. I'm going to check the ship. We've just about stayed our welcome on Suicide Station, we're going to leave."

"Sir." Paryl said, moving into the center of the room and staring daggers at the conscious Kanassan.

Rem was gone in the next instant. He had no time for games or to play. Instead, he simply disappeared from the room and appeared in the repair dock terminal. Instantly he knew something was wrong...


692//1539
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<br><SELECT style="background-color: #83F52C; color: #000000; font-family: Lucida Calligraphy; font-size: 14px; width: 200px; "><br /><OPTION>Rem</OPTION><br /><OPTION>"NO CHANCE!"</OPTION><br /></div><br /><OPTION>Power Level: 707,000</OPTION></div>
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