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The Lessek Run; Rem
Topic Started: May 20 2015, 11:25 PM (241 Views)
Rem
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The Super Namek
Quote:
 
Title: Lessek Run

Location: Ruins of Cauldron

Difficulty: Easy

Description: You've been hanging around for a while and recently ran into a down on his luck Asteroid Racer owner. His last pilot was killed in a bar fight on Suicide Station. If he doesn't find someone to race his Corvette in tomorrow's qualifying round for this seasons race, he will lose his entry fee and be unable to pay his ship costs! You must finish in the top 7 to move on to the next round. (You get use of a Corvette for this quest only-You are racing a circular route through the asteroid belt created by Cauldron's Demise).

Reward:
+400 zeni, +4 DP, +35 all stats, +3 Rp Credits
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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 returned to Suicide Station soon after discovering his people, and moving their asteroid well away from where it had been previously staged as a prison. They were still currently stuck within the asteroid seeing as how Rem had been unable to reclaim, or even find, where Siberius had taken the Quixote. However, he was determined to at least make their stay a lot more comfortable if he could. Rem was still stuck in the Cauldron system, and that was going to be a problem. Not a few hours ago he had taken a shot at Siberius, and the Namekian doubted the alien was one to forget a betrayal and a double cross- not that he hadn't had it coming.

The biggest problem was that pretty much everyone ON suicide station either worked for Siberius, paid him off, or wanted to get some sort of boon from him, and would be more than willing to report a wayward Namekian just to get it. In fact, there was only one organization Rem knew who held no love for Siberius. The Namekian grinned. Perfect.

Seeing as how the asteroid was much further away from the core than it had been, it was much easier to do pinpoint teleportations. Rem did just that, concentrating on an energy signal for a few moments before appearing where he was meaning to. There, surprised, standing before him was Dentas. Rem had met Dentas months ago and heard his story. He was a survivor of Cauldron who had spent the last few years of his life back here in system trying to rescue any artifacts that could be found. He also organized pilgrimages to the planet for its lost sons and daughters. Rem had formed a sort of bond with the man, right before he had started drinking way too much and given up all hope.

"Ey Dentas." Rem said with a grin. "Looks like we went ahead and dodged some serious shit, right?" Rem asked, referring to the attempted Saiyan attack on the Core that would have caused a chain of Supernavae across much of keliouxan Space.

"Sorreh?" Dentas asked, confused, then frightened. "Your face is all over the vids. Siberius wants your head man, you should be LONG gone." He warned. The Keliouxans head swiveled left and right as if making sure no one was seeing them. They were safe, however, within his personal chambers.

"Don't worry so much, man." Rem replied with a grin, moving over to a couch and flopping into it, throwing his feet onto a table. "You got some fruit juice or something? I've recently given up drinking, but after the day I've had- boy I need a drink." Rem sat there for a moment, letting his head loll back onto the couch while Dentas went and grabbed them something for refreshment. When he got back, Rem picked up the conversation.

"Alright, I guess I told you about how I was being forced to work for Siberius as he was holding my people hostage?" When the man nodded, Rem continued; "Good news is I've freed 'em. Bad news is that since Siberius has my ship, we're stuck in system until I can figure out the transportation situation. I can't use public transport, because he's sure to have someone watching and a few loads of Namekians all traveling out would get rather suspicious rather quick. So... I need a new ship. Or ships."

-643
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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
Dentas looked at Rem and nodded his understanding; "I see..." Obviously he didn't see how he came into the situation.

"Well, i know your people come here for pilgrimages... I was wondering if maybe they wouldn't mind smuggling a few Namekians out at a time..."

Dentas thought for a second, then started to shake his head. "There's a mass celebration pilgrimage planned 6 months from now. There won't really be that many of my people coming until then. I don't think you wanted to wait that much longer?" He asked.

Rem pursed his lips, then frowned. "Damn... that was my best idea. Naw, I want them home as soon as possible, really. They're in terrible shape. That son of a bitch has essentially been starving and working them to death in equal measures. Any other ideas? I mean, I'm not above stealing the next decent sized ship that comes in system in order to save my people, but I'd rather not have the law on my ass, ya feel me?"

Dentas nodded, but his eyebrows were raised a little as if surprised to hear that much of an admission from the greenskin. "Oh! The races!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" Rem asked.

"The Boonta Eve Classic. It's a series of races that are prevelant in systems with large asteroid belts. Since that's basically ALL cauldron is now, they've begun a Cauldron System circuit. It's starting in a few days actually."

"So?" Rem asked, still not seeing the point.

"Okay, so these racers are pretty reckless. Especially the new guys. If there is a race being planned, then there are definitely racers on the station. They'll pick fights and get in trouble. There's always at least a couple sponsors needing last minute replacements for guys who end up dead, or in the hospital, or prison. The reward money is pretty good. If you can win, or even just place well, in a race or two you might be able to afford an old tramp freighter or something that can hold your people." Dentas was grinning as he finished, then frowned; "But you can't race as you, obviously. Siberius people will be all over it. Money talks. I... have an idea, however." Then his grin was back.

443//1086
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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>
</DIV></center>[/align]
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Rem
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Three hours later Rem was looking into a mirror and thinking how ridiculous this was. One of Dentas lady friends had agreed to help them out, and was in the process of packing up the rest of her things and leaving as Rem finally stood. As soon as the door closed behind her, Rem reached up and pulled off the wig on his head. "Are you kidding me with this shit?" Rem asked, "This is ridiculous."

Dentas was holding back a laugh at the sight of the white skinned man with green antenna taped down on his head. "Oh yeah, it really is." He managed to say between his giggles. "Please, put the wig on. You look... " he kept laughing until Rem, growling, put the wig back on and covered his antenna and ears. The wig was long and flowing, light blue so he would blend in with other supposed Cauldronites.

"White face." Rem growled. She'd even covered his Majin mark with the gloopy shit that had dried stiff on his face. "How low have I fallen for White Face to be a legitimate attempt at subterfuge." Mostly, he was just bitching to bitch. In all honesty, the disguise was near perfect. He did look humanoid, and the hair covered up his biggest Namekian tell tales. As long as he didn't lose it at an inopportune time, he might jsut be able to get away with this.... "Alright, damn it... Whats next?" rem asked.

"Well, you race." Dentas said, finally able to control himself. "While Becky was putting your face on I went and checked the status on the race teams. Like i figured, a few of them were going to be disqualified due to not having a racer. I managed to convince one of the sponsors to hire you."

"How?" Rem asked, "Haven't even met the man..."

Dentas shrugged. "Some people are just desperate enough to take a chance on a wildcard over doing nothing. Worst case scenario you crash the ship and he gets to collect some insurance money."

"Alright, whens the race?" Rem asked.

"Tomorrow morning, first thing. The Sponsors name is Elroy McGinnis, a human actually. He's in slip 13. Just get there an hour or so before the race so they can go over everything and yer good to go."
------

The next day Rem arrived early and got himself situated in the Corvette. After finding out he was allowed to bring a partner, he forced Paryl to get himself into white face too. He heard from Vash too. Apparently, he had found a corvette of his own to race. The two of them were going to double up on raking in the cash if everything went well...

This was the first of three races to determine the winner of the Boonta Eve Classic. There were almost 50 entrants to the first race. They were going to whittle the group down to the top seven. Rem figured that with his much greater than average reflexes and abilities, it wasn't going to be a problem to do at least that well.

Rem was in the third line with 4 other racers when it started. He wasn't sure where Vash and his copilot were, but figured he'd be in the top few racers too. He could probably sense him once the group was whittled down a bit.

The race started, and instantly Rem realized how dangerous it was as the racer to his right tried to slam into him- using large rubber pads on the side of his ship to bounce Rem into someone else. Unfortunately for him, The namekian was smart and fast. Rem instantly rose high, allowing the fucker to pass beneath him. After that he kicked it into gear and shot ahead....

Thirty minutes later Rem passed the finish line in 4th place. He had passed the qualifying round.

733/1819
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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 warm embrace of a comfortable bed and a good nights sleep never sounded better. Well, the comfortable bed part might have been considered a bit of a stretch. Ever since he found Rem and left his position within Siberius' hierarchy, Vash had taken shelter aboard the Valiant, allowing his newly reunited Namekian counterpart his own bit of space. Their relationship was still fresh and at a crucial stage of development. The Majin curse mark was newly instilled upon his long time friend, and neither of them were sure of any possible side effects. But, for the time being, they were forming a partnership, and that was all that really mattered. The details would work themselves out in time.

Having just blown up a Saiyan warship threatening to destroy what little remained of Cauldron, specifically with Rem still on it, some relaxation time was of high importance. Vash personally could not have cared less about the fate of the ruins and it's inhabitants, it was crucial for him to play his part as the hero in order to form a necessary level of trust with Rem. He didn't have a choice.

Relaxation and a bit of entertainment at this point was a definite must. Suicide Station was in great supply of entertainment or it's scum of the cosmos inhabitants. Bars, casinos, strip clubs... If you had a vice, you could definitely feed it here.

The first couple of nights went by in a blur, Vash had been kicked out of about every bar within walking distance of the space port. But still, he managed to indulge himself a little bit until it was time to carry on with something of real importance.

He had been walking down one particular street, chugging on a bottle of lucifer knows what when he happened upon some kind of chop shop vehicle repair place. The sound of an engine being revved up Drew his attention inwards.

There were three mechanics and a foreman, a diversity of species, working on a corvette class speeder hoisted into the air. They were arguing about something, speaking in a tongue Vash didn't recognize. Vash stumbled in a bit, and began to speak in a low, slurry voice. "Nice machine you guys got there," he managed to belch out, before taking another haul off the bottle.

Evidently, they did not enjoy his friendly and merry demeanor as well as he had intended, the foreman shot Vash a nasty look. "Get out of my shop, drunky!" He shouted in basic as he took a couple steps towards the intoxicated demon.

"Hey now, no need for that!" Vash held his hands up defensively. "I was just saying you guys got a good looking car here!" Then he noticed the number 14 painted on the sign. "What's with the number?"

The foreman grew a matter of factual look on his face. "This here's a racin' car," he said with pride before spitting a large wad of chewing tobacco juice at Vash's boots. "The Lessek Run is tomorrow. Puttin' the final touches to 'er before the big race."

"Big race, huh," Vash commented. "Sounds like fun! How do I enter?"

All four of the redneck aliens began to laugh hysterically. "You don't! This is for professionals only!" The foreman remarked, his toothless smile bouncing up and down as he laughed.

Some professionals, Vash thought to himself sarcastically. If this group of idiots can put a car together and win a race, it can't be that hard. Despite the fact that the mechanics were still laughing, and that Vash could have them all hanging by their small intestines, or whatever kind of disgusting organs their alien bodies were made of, Vash flashed a bright smile and went on his way back to the space port, knowing full well that tomorrow he would make his move.

The next day, he rose early and made his way down to the starting line of the track, information he had gathered from posters hanging all around the space port. He sat amongst the stands, drinking a few beers, enjoying himself, and kept his eyes on one spot in particular. A white tent with the number 14 painted on it.

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Vash
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Gross...
Finally, a few beers and a couple of the worst hot dogs Vash had ever tasted later, the assholes with the number 14 car showed up. A man wearing a full driving suit, gloves, a Helmet, the whole get up jumped out of the trailer with the rest of the crew. Perfect, Vash thought as he finished his sixth beer. Or was it his seventh. He wasn't really sure. Now, all he had to do was wait for him to get up and use the bathroom.

Vash stalked the man through the building that was accessible to racing staff when he got his chance. He was about as sneaky and quiet as he possibly could in his half drunken state, but when he got the chance, he bashed the driver in the back of the skull, rendering him unconscious. Vash put on the entire outfit, stuffed the mans unconscious body into a nearby supply closet, and made his way back out to the starting line.

"Jesus, did you have to take a shit in there or what?" The foreman asked, obviously irritated with the delay.

Vash simply gave the middle finger in response, jumped into the drivers seat, and made his way to the starting grid. Drink driving wasn't exactly one of his better ideas, but the whole experience was just too cool and exciting for him to pass up.

He glanced over the controls. They were a little intimidating, but hey, couldn't be that much more different than flying a fighter craft. His fingers gripped the steering wheel as the countdown began. Vash was ready.

Now, the race itself was mostly a blur, he could admit that. It was amazing that he didn't get himself or anyone else killed. But, if he was going to be completely honest, he didn't care, he was just having too much fun.

As the checkered flag waved, he figured out he actually had managed to place sixth, and qualified to move on. In all the excitement, he had forgotten that he actually wasn't supposed to be there, and when he removed his helmet, the pit crew wasn't all that thrilled to see who he really was. But, after a little explaining and some telepathic prodding, he convinced them to make him the driver in the next race. It wasn't ideal, but it beat the hell out of risking his life for Rems sake.

1101/2920
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