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Working for the Man; Rem & Vash
Topic Started: May 10 2015, 03:09 AM (301 Views)
Rem
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The Super Namek
Quote:
 
Title: Working for the Man.

Location: Ruins of Cauldron/Suicide Station

Difficulty: Medium

Description: Siberius likes your style; You have flare. He's offered you a position within his entourage and given you some responsibilities. Detail your activities for the week. Take out the 'trash', extort some petty cash from a few business owners on the station, and make sure all the shipments of illicet substances are on time.

Reward:
+600 zeni, +10 DP, +70 all stats, +10 Rp Credits, and -1 Alignment

Bonus: +1,000 zeni

Requirement: Gaining Notoriety 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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Rem
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The Super Namek
---5 Months Previous---

Rem knew immediately that something was wrong as soon as he materialized in the repair dock terminal. It took a moment to place it, but as he tried to inhale a deep pain stabbed through his chest, then spread through his body. Realizing he was in vacuum, Rem exhaled immediately- knowing that holding your breath in decompression could rupture the lungs; hoping he hadn’t already just done that.

He had been here dozens of times, and not once had it been depressured. Instantly he was on guard for a trap. Siberius had done this. He had sent his men to get the contract signed, but had taken steps in case Rem refused this third and final time. The Namekian turned and looked back towards the entrance of the terminal. His face turned up in a fanged grimace at the sight of a score of beings, backs to him, watching the entrance with ki rifles trained upon it. They hadn’t seen him yet because he had teleported behind their location.

The Namekian turned. He had a mission to complete. It took just a few moments to cover the distance between where he was and the final door to the repair dock. Even before he arrived at the door, however, he knew. He couldn’t see the large hulking sides of the Quixote from where he was, rising up to meet him. When he got to the door and looked through, his suspicions were confirmed. The Quixote was gone. “God DAMN IT!” Rem tried to roar, unable to because his lungs were empty and no sound could be heard in a vacuum. It made sense. Siberius controlled the station with an iron hand. He had been trying to gouge Rem for cash since he had arrived. Of course he had kept tabs on the work crew. Hell, the work crew probably reported to him. If Siberius had sent word to move or hide the ship, it would be a command followed without question.

The amount of time Rem had in this place was beginning to draw to an end. His lungs were burning, and while he was in fantastic shape and could go without oxygen for a time, it wasn’t an eternity. Rem turned then, heading back into the main terminal. He slowed as he saw the score of defenders again. Each and every one of them was suited up in a space suit, oxygen tanks on their backs. Unfortunately, one of them was turned towards him, talking on a communications device. There was an obvious pause as the being suddenly registered the fact that someone was standing a few dozen feet before him, down the corridor. He jerked in surprise, then raised the comms device once more and began to excitedly talk. It seemed the jig was up.
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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

Rem shifted his way across the corridor, calling forth a weapon from his room in the hotel to hand. The blade of the Rainbow Sword sunk hilt deep into the officers chest. Another weapon appeared in Rems other hand, and he spun, withdrawing the first blade as he did so. An instant later the hooded head of the officer spun, streaking blood, to slam into the wall beside him. The body would drop in a few moments, but the Namekian was already busy exorcising the rage that was burning within him. First two, then four of the suited up aliens began to turn from their defensive position, checking out whatever their officer had been going on about on the comms. They died first. Heads went rolling in quick succession, blood slashed trails beginning to decorate the room like a maddened artists brush. Slash, stab, slice. Alien bastard after alien bastard died within moments.

The burning pit that was Rems lungs became a metaphor for his hatred. Each millisecond brought a deeper, hotter fire, and each brought another body claimed by the reapers. It took less than three seconds for Rem to murder 22 Alien thugs. The firsts body was only beginning to fall as the final ones head was severed from his shoulders, to spin lazily into the airless atmosphere. Rem knew he had to get out of this terminal, and did.

He appeared on the other side of the locked door the aliens had been guarding and took a deep, sweet breath of dirty space station air. The hot, painful fire in his chest faded away, and with it the Namekians brightest flame of anger. It settled down to a low, thrumming furnace in his belly. He had to find the Quixote. It had to be around here somewhere. Perhaps they had just moved it to another dock…

Rem allowed one of the swords to disappear, sending it back to the hotel, and placed two fingers on the hand it had been held within to his forehead. In a moment he reappared in another dock. He looked out across it, searching for his ship. Nothing. The Quixote was a very large vessel, it would be rather difficult to miss. He disappeared, reappeared elsewhere. Looked, searched, found nothing. Again, and then again. The Namekian checked all 12 of the main docks in just a minute. The Quixote was not there. He was beginning to realize that it must have been taken off station. Perhaps it was still nearby, in local space…
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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

Rem took a long, deep breath and then slowly began to exhale. As he did so he once again teleported. Immediately he felt the cold fire of complete spatial vaccum grab him. He felt the burning within his lungs once more, but this was from the potential rupture. The burn subsided as he slowly exhaled more and more of his precious oxygen, lengthening the amount of time he could stay out here. He had reappeared outside of the dock where his ship had been at, and spun. Space was huge, and he was beginning to get a creeping feel of dread and hoplessness as he considered the possibilities… He spun in space, eyes searching for the damned ship.

A moment later he appeared thousands of kilometers away, on another side of the station. He searched, found nothing, and shifted again. Then again. A minute of careful exhalation and searching passed, and Rem widened his area. He appeared among the larger asteroids, hoping to see his vessel docked to one of them. Mining crews and various vessels were there, but not the Quixote… After two minutes he began to panic. Where was is fucking ship. How was he going to get his people off this kami damned space station without it? Was he going to have to go to war against Siberius, kill massive amounts of people just because he had been unwilling to allow himself to be jerked around and essentially robbed at pen point?

Four minutes of searching was all the Namekians burning lungs could take, and he reappeared inside the main terminal of the station. He took long, deep breaths, trying to force away the near hypothermic chills that caused his entire body to shudder. It had been colder than colder out there in the black.

As his body stopped shuddering and his lungs stopped rattling, after a few minutes of simply standing amidst the foot traffic of suicide station, Rem began to consider his next course of action. It seemed, however, that he had been noticed as he just stood there. A trio of large, red hued and horned figures were approaching, eyes locked on him and toughened bodies prepared for a fight. Rem decided to stop them before they made a stupid mistake, like trying to take him down. He held his hands up and gave them a rather cynical expression. “Take me to him.” The Namekian said simply. Caught off guard, the three stopped. They looked torn. Rem was giving up, which made their jobs easier, but they looked like they really wanted to beat the shit out of him.
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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
“Come.” The largest of the three said. The Namekian did so, lowering his arms as he strode into the middle of the fighters and then continued on as they walked him to, apparently, wherever the hell Siberius was. It took about fifteen minutes before they entered the back room of a bar that was closed because it was early morning. “Stay here.” The lead thug muttered, then disappeared into a further room, leaving the other two standing flanking Rem. Seconds later the Namekian was ushered into the office as it turned out to be. There was a large leather chair, turned away from Rem. The Namek was force to roll his eyes at the melodrama of the situation as the chair creaked, and then turned to face him; showing Siberius sitting there, smirk on his face and wineglass in one hand.

“Captain Sorreh, I hear you’ve been making a nuisance of yourself across my station. It would appear I underestimated your… capacity, as it were.” Two of the hulking brutes moved to stand on either side of the large desk, while the largest one took up a position between Rem and the door. The attempted intimidation was seriously being overplayed, Rem thought.

“Your mistake,” Rem said simply, and took a step forward. The two guards in his eye sight bristled. “You have time to make it right, before things go too far.” Rem said simply, crossing his arms and purposely avoided looking at the guards. He could kill all three if them in a few moments if needed, they weren’t a danger. And considering the level of minion that had been sent at him thus far, Rem really didn’t expect Siberius to have many folks stronger than them. A space station that catered to gamblers and drunks really didn’t seem like a place that would attract massively powerful fighters, now that he thought about it.

“Hmm.” Siberius muttered. “Actually, while I may have miscalculated once or twice along the way, the mistakes made thus far belong to you.” Siberius smiled, then held up a hand as Rems mouth opened to offer a rejoinder. “Stop speaking, Namekian. You do not understand how truly awful you’ve misplaced your hand.”

Once again Rem began to speak, then stopped. Screw if. If Siberius wanted to dig a hole for himself, Rem was more than willing to let the dirt pile up. A moment later the Icer picked up a remote control, and flicked on a vid screen that covered the wall across from the desk. Rems face screwed up in confusion, then anger as he saw a being standing over the prone form of Jen. “This was about 12 minutes ago,” Siberius remarked; “Just in case you were considering….” He was the one cut off this time, as the emerald skinned warrior disappeared from his office.
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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 moment later he was back. “WHERE IS SHE?” Roared Rem, walking straight up to the desk. The guard behind him grabbed the Namekians shoulder. Without pausing Rem killed the bastard by summoning a sword and stabbing beneath his own arm pit. The other two guards tried to stop the enraged Namekian, but were on their knees in a moment, grabbing their heads and screaming for an instant before falling unconscious. “Where… is.. she.” Rem repeated through gritted teeth. “I will disembowel you and force you to eat the shit from your own intestines if she’s been….”

“Hurt?’ Siberius interrupted. “Oh, calm down… And sit down. We can have this discussion civilly.” Siberius looked barely rattled from the sudden eruption of death, power, and rage the Namekian showed. It was almost impressive how well he took it in stride. It took a few seconds of forced calm for Rem to be able to bring himself to sit, but then he did so.

“The Namekian woman…” Siberius began, a smile touching at the edge of his lips, “See something new every day… Anyway, the woman, the Namekians, the Vagrils… They’ve all been moved. You see, I own that hotel- just as I own everything on this Station. With it still being under reconstruction, it was beyond simple to have gas brought in with a work crew, and then released to all of your rooms. Quite efficient method of dealing with violent squatters, don’t you think?”

Rem growled…

“Anyway,” Siberius said, waving his hand defensively. “Your people are no longer on station. They’re fine, being held somewhere until your debt is paid. At which point I’ll arrange free travel for your people off station… presumably back to Namek.”

“My ship?” Rem asked, getting an idea of why they wouldn’t just be sent back aboard it.

“My ship.” Siberius muttered. “Actually, you don’t yet understand how badly you have screwed up. The ship? No longer your concern. It is mine. Additionally, with you making large payments to TWO of my institutions, the repairs division and the hotel, we were able to trace your payment origins. My tech teams have emptied your accounts. Consider it as a fine for your insolence. Back payment for the security you owed.”

Rems mind was whirling. His people had been kidnapped, his ship had been stolen, and his money had all been taken. He was… Fuck… He was broke, alone, and stranded. Rems face must have showed something, because across from him Siberius was smiling. “The situation becomes clear, yes, Master Sorreh?” Siberius asked. “The ship and the money are gone, forever. Do not even consider asking for them back. Your people, however, are negotiable.”

“How do I get them back?” Rem asked between clenched teeth.

Siberius smile grew wider. “You’re going to work for me.” He said simply, then shrugged. “Honestly, they mean nothing to me. However, as you’ve proven you more than have the strength to kill me, I’m going to give them back rather than have them spaced. I’m going to have you work for me as a lesson in hubris. You dared come here, tried to throw your money and weight around… No, You will be my BITCH;” At that word he rose to his feet, leaning across the table to look into Rems eyes, “Until I get fucking tired of your face, and decide you’ve learned your fucking lesson you uppity, contemptible, green piss ant.”

It took everything Rem had within him, all the self control he possessed, to keep from simply reaching across and snapping the beings neck. He knew, though, that if he did so… his people would die.

“Fine…” He growled, unable to come up with anything else.


-2416
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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...
Vash left the night club where he had just taken care of Barnak. Hopefully, that guy would be off of his back for at least a little while. It would take him some time to recoup his manlihood after the demon set him in his place. Literally, pinning the executive to his own desk with his own gold handled letter opener. It was a stroke of genius, Vash felt, one that he felt the need to celebrate.

He stopped off at a bar and proceeded to have himself a little victory drink. A few hours, a dozen drinks, and a couple of failed attempts at getting laid later, he stumbled back out of the bar and made his way to his hotel room. If he could remember which one that was... The residential district of Cauldron was built with efficiency in mind, so many of the establishments were carbon copies of one another to save on structural costs. It was a smart move on behalf of Siberius, the business man who funded the entire project, but it came with a certain aesthetically depressing price. The streets, the shops, the hotels, everything looked very similar as he marched down the perfectly symmetrical street ways.

Cauldron was a melting pot of scum and harlots, washed up warriors, the whole station was filled with the bottom of the barrel remnants of everything that was bad in the universe. It was like the galaxy took a massive dump after taco tuesday, flushed it, and it all wound up here. Granted, there was room for improvement. Some people found the power and dexterity to rise above the rest, but for the most part, most found themselves below the middle class line. Leading lives of drug addicts and prostitutes, making only enough money to fulfill their addictions. It made Vash sick. It was against what he truly believed in. He relied on his strength as a means of gaining what he needed. The fact that Rem still eluded him, even though he had spent nearly every waking moment on Cauldron tracking him down, bothered him greatly.

For the first time that he could remember, his strength wasnt enough to get what he wanted. Rem had secluded his whereabouts on Cauldron so well that it was beginning to frustrate Vash to no end. If Vash couldn't find him, then it would shake the entire foundation of his beliefs. It was his strength had helped him perservere through the hardships that formed his steely demeanor.

As he stumbled down the sidewalk, nearly gagging that the disgusting state of his surroundings, he thought about the mantra that was drilled into his head during his training sessions with Lucifer. He took a swig off of the cheap bottle of whiskey and stopped his stride, gazing up at the stars above. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken," he muttered under his breath before taking another swig off of his alcohol. Above all else, his code held his beliefs firm. He needed to find Rem, under his own accord. If he was unable to do so, then... Well, he wasn't sure what would happen to his psyche. There was no other option. His knuckles tightened, turning white with a bit of anger. He was going to find Rem, if it fucking killed him.

As he stumbled into his hotel, up the stairs, and using the wall to keep his balance, he made his way to his room. He slumped up against the painted on '14' that emblazened the door and grabbed his key card. He kept sliding it in the slot, but was only greeted with a red light. "Damnit..." he said aloud, thinking that they maybe changed the lock on him while he was away. He dropped the card on the floor. "Damnit again..." he muttered as he bent down to pick it up. His head began to spin as he stood up too quickly, a side effect of his intoxication. Then it donned on him, he was only sliding it the wrong way. He laughed to himself, turned the card the other way around, and slid it through the slot once again. The light flashed green and the door slid open.

He stepped into the room and burped before removing his jacket and tossing it on the counter. He took a few steps inward, and the light turned on by itself. There, sitting in the chair in the corner with his legs crossed, was a familiar looking creature. But, familiar from where... Damn, if only he hadn't gotten so drunk. Then it donned on him. He had seen this face before. In the picture on the wall back in Barnak's office.

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Vash
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Gross...
"Well, well, well," the figure in the corner spoke in the dimly lit room, bouncing his leg off of his knee and swirling a glass of wine in his hand. "I've been waiting for you to return for quite awhile now, Lord Maul. Or, should I say... Vash," the being took a sip off of his wine glass after he spoke the demon's name.

"How did you--" Vash began to speak before being cut off. Vash quickly recognized the stranger as Siberius, the person in the picture from Barnak's office, and also the proprietor of Suicide Station. Everything Vash had stepped on ever since he landed on Cauldron belonged to Siberius.

"Oh, I know all about you," Siberius continued, swirling and sipping at his drink. He was dressed head to toe in the finest clothing Vash had ever seen. The man just resonated wealth and power. It was endearing. "I hope you don't mind me helping myself to the mini bar. After the proposition I'm about to give you, I'm sure you won't care."

"Prop...osition?" Vash asked in his drunken stupor. He should have been on high alert. He just assaulted one of Siberius' strongest associates. There was a strong possibility that he was here for revenge, but for some reason, maybe it was the alcohol, he didn't feel threatened.

"I've done my research on you," the Icer went on. "With wealth comes power. And someone with my level of power can't afford to have secrets in his own home. That's what Suicide Station is to me, Vash. It is my home. And I've invested a lot in it. Too much to have secrets right under my nose. And for someone to walk around attacking my colleagues unpunished."

Vash's mind was filled with the screams of Barnak being stuck to his desk. It was kind of funny, and made the demon chuckle.

"Wipe that drunken smile off of your face, this is no laughing matter," Siberius was direct and cold. "I should have you killed in a public display of my authority. But that would be a waste of a good resource. No, you are actually worth something to me. And, I have something you want."

"What could you possibly have that I want," Vash asked as he took a sip off of his bottle, which was getting low.

"It is my understanding that you are looking for someone, correct? A certain Namekian?" Siberius stood from his chair and set his drink down. A know it all smile stretched across his face. He had figured out Vash's weakness, and would exploit it for his own gain.

Vash raised an eyebrow in curiosity? "What's that gonna cost me?" He asked, wary of the deal he was making.

"Well, actually it's going to cost me," Siberius replied as he took a few steps closer to the demon. Vash nearly towered over the short statured Icer. What he lacked in physicality, Siberius made up with intimidation and power. Vash coveted Siberius' strength, and something inside him wanted him to take it for himself. But, if he was going to find Rem, Siberius was going to be the demon's best bet. "I want you to come and work for me. You'll be a highly valued asset. One of my top henchmen. But, you will work for me, you will understand your place."

"And what about Rem?" Vash clenched his teeth, getting to the point.

"Quid pro quo, my young Demon, quid pro quo... Take care of a few... business affairs I have lined up, and I will help you find Rem," Siberius' grin was stretching from horn to horn. "What do you say, Vash, do we have a deal?" The Icer held a hand out to shake.

Vash thought it over. He was getting nowhere on his own. This appeared to be his best option, and by the look of things, it wasn't going to be anything he wouldn't be able to handle. Dealing with scumbags? That was something Vash was used to by now. The job seemed easy enough, but giving up his will to become Siberius' puppet... This was a deal that he was reluctant to make.

Lightning crashed outside the window as the rain began to pour. Siberius' face lit up with the flash of light. For a brief second, Siberius' face looked similar to Lucifer's, and it was fitting, because Vash felt like he was making a deal with the devil himself. Vash reached his own hand out and shook Siberius claw, confirming the deal was made.

"You've made a wise decision, Vash," Siberius said. "Now, it's time to sober up, your work begins tomorrow." Siberius reached into his pocket and dug out a business card and handed it to the demon. "Come to that address at 9 a.m. and be ready to work. I've got a full slate of jobs that will require your certain level of expertise."

Vash nodded in understanding. As much as he didn't like it, this was going to be a necessary means to an end. If Siberius was able to find out so much about Vash, then there was no doubt in the demon's mind that he knew how to find Rem. He would play a long, for the time being. He would get his hands dirty in the name of the Icer for the greater good of himself.

He lay down in his bed and looked up at the ceiling. He hadn't worked for anyone in this fashion since his time spent on Damaskia under the Shadowguard. And that ended with him fleeing once he got too comfortable. Though, there was no doubt in his mind that the same series of events would take place here, still, it was troubling to him that he was going to have to put his own ideals aside and let someone else call the shots. "Oh, Rem..." he sighed as he stared at the ceiling tiles. "Where the hell are you... You bastard..." His mind began to wander as he drunkenly fell into a deep sleep.

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