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Posted - 2004.02.03 13:38:00 - [1]

Edited by: Faustian on 03/02/2004 13:40:20

The sound of waves lapped gently against the shore, as the sun reached its apex, fine breezes had made the morning splendid, yet even as the Amarrian lay outside the beach hut he reflected now upon what had brought him here, the deal brokering, the unsavoury methods employed to achieve his objectives.

Seren strolled along the edge of the ocean someway off, her Ammatar skin was bronzed further by a few days at his fathers new retreat, though risky to take the break with his biggest and final pay off for months of scheming ready to bare fruit upon his return, the ruin of his employer would be satisfyingly swift.

The coup de grace was to be simple a hammer blow smashing the Holder’s fortunes, financial and political influence and with what followed Faustian knew he would not have the opportunity to rest again for along time afterwards.

He lay back under the parasol watching his slave’s figure sway gently as she walked.


Faustian drifted back from his doze on the beach, with his return to consciousness the reality he found was a horrid shock, he was not on that beach under the suns rays, with painful recognition he realised the bruising around his left eye, this was aggravated by the fact he was slumped against the Tritanium steel floor, sore ribs played on his consciousness along with a nasty laser burn on his back.

The hazy details of his last conscious moments began to return, he remembered the Big Bang Burger Bar, watching the local Galnet report on the club riot, he remembered his comm implant flaring, Toburr had broken silence to warn of the forced entry to the hangar.

He had scattered some Sebiestor’s long limb salad and Quafe across the restaurant floor, he had hastily thrown himself through the crowded station plazas crowds, down tube lifts, on reaching the Hangar level, Faustian had pulled his Laser pistol, he approached the Wraithe’s hangar, mustering all his composure, he was already perspiring from the rush to get here, but now there was a cold sweat, like just before lining up on your first frigate kill thought Faustian.

His heart thundered in his chest as he approach the hangar door, slightly ajar the beams of the hangar lights diffused with the corridor lighting, Faustian knelt down at the edge of the doorway.

A few short sharp breaths were followed by a headlong leap into the hangar, Faustian had aimed for one of the deck officer consoles, his effort ended in a forward roll bringing him to a crouched stop next to the console.

He took a deeper breath, no noise, no... The fizzle of a laser blaster re-focused Faustian, the two figures, one stood with his tattooed arm around a bloodied Toburr’s neck, the orderly was half slumped against the taller man, the second was knelt half hidden by the cargo loader chassis, the second figure was also attempting to burn a new feature onto Faustian’s face.

The close proximity of the blast to Faustian’s face had resulted in the blast singeing the left side of his face.

Faustian flinched at the burning pain from his face, gritting his teeth he tried to twist away, as he did so another blast stuck him in the back, stabs of white hot agony tore through his shoulder and then his nervous system, frantically the Amarrians body struggled to release what endorphins and adrenaline it had left to compensate for the red waves of pain, the effort to stand made his body shudder, his cold sweat’s salt content stung his raw skin around the laser burn on his face. Faustian responded to the hit of adrenaline with his own crimson reaction, his temper overthrew his fear and with it any sense of self preservation was abandoned, he reached his full height and looked straight into the two soul spots of his crouched opponent.

Taking aim he burned the man another mark to accompany his already tattooed head, he slumped to the floor, his now glazed eyes flickered with the reflection of Faustian’s smoking hold out pistol.

The second assailant simply grinned. Faustian now froze in horror as Toburr’s head twisted most unnaturally in the first mans hands.

The Amarrian orderly crumpled, his life wasted, body discarded like trash, the assailant, an Amarrian had already begun to raise his own weapon aiming at Faustian,
paralysed by grief and shock, Toburr had been in his fathers employ most of Faustian’s life, he was his rock, his confident, laying prone on a bare steel floor of a Gallente station light years from home, head twisted to a peculiar angle a little of his Amarrian life spilling from his lips.

Faustian gazed at the Amarrian and his laser pistol, they were about the same height and stature, the mans stance gave the impression of military habit, but most striking was the blood raider tattoo emblazoned across his scalp, Faustian seemed locked upon the symbol, unable to break his own stare.

Posted - 2004.02.03 13:39:00 - [2]

Edited by: Faustian on 03/02/2004 13:41:21

The shot never came, the man fell forwards, a set of metal darts protruded from his back, sat upright perhaps three metres behind sat the Intaki he had fought on the plaza, a miniature steel coloured blowpipe in one hand.

She leapt up, heels clicked softly on the metal floor, as she approached he stood transfixed by her catlike sway, she walked to within arms reach of the motionless Faustian, “Good night mon cherie!” she exclaimed in her thick accent and stuck him fast and hard, to Faustian the stations gravity suddenly seemed to increase by a hundred fold, his knees buckled and he collapsed, he felt like falling through oil as he sank away into the blackness and away from the light.

In the abandoned station’s concourse Faustian pulled his overcoat closer, the failing station leaked atmosphere and the heat bled with it, he sat at the obsidian table, and watched the priest approach once more, the shuttle the cult had brought him in was completing the final checks before preparing to return him to the station before Faustian was due to leave via his Holders transport with the new intake of slaves.

The High Priest threw Faustian a sideways glance, this Holder’s vizier had been remarkable in his proposal, the opportunity was a once in a life time offer, the exact motives were clouded but revenge was the principle cause for this offer of betrayal, what he asked in return was modest to what he could have asked for though clearly little else was needed by the resourceful Amarrian.

“Having considered your proposal I am pleased to offer the services you have require, though their will be a few ‘alterations’, all things considered we can arrange the necessary transports and the my brothers services, there remuneration is at an acceptable level also” the Priest paused, throwing back his hood to reveal his bald scalp with a shock of white hair which formed a ring around the back of his head, the tattoos and marks of the blood raider cult were prominent and exaggerated. “Excellent” remarked Faustian, who began to rise, the priest smiled though you understand there is still a contract to be ‘signed’” said the Cultist, he motioned for his assistant to hand over the ceremonial blade, do take a look at the changes now won’t you.


Seren’s face was framed by her braids, she was knelt next to her master, her shadow was cast across the sleeping Amarrian, with a gentle motion rocked him back to reality, “Faustian-san” she whispered, “your skin will not endure this heat much longer” her voice had a nurturing quality, she had been a most excellent choice he thought, he realised he had dozed off on the beach.

They returned to the beach hut, as it seemed upon the surface. In true Amarrian style it had a complex under the surface consisting of five floors of apartments and quarters, his father’s renewed wealth had brought the sun back once again upon his families fortunes.

Seren walked by his side, Faustian raised his right hand to shield his eyes from the glare, “your arm!” remarked Seren, Faustian examined his slightly pink forearm, the markings stood out, making his skin seem redder than it really was, having reacted to the heat, Sani Sabik symbol formed by the lines around a nasty crisscross scar.

“Faustian-san?” the Ammatar drawled, with more than a hint of alarm, they stopped, Faustian’s face was inquisitive but not shocked by its existence, Seren held the look of grave concern upon her face. Faustian examined the Blood Raider mark on his forearm, the white scar seemed to shine against his pink skin.


The giant golden coloured jump gate hummed with power as it began its cycle, Faustian stared out of the shuttles observation deck, the stars shone brighter it seemed than when he had arrived, but now they were not it appeared so far from his reach, at last he would be able to set some parts of this universe in order, he would be the manipulator not the manipulated.

His bandaged arm felt sore, he resisted the urge to scratch the injury, he had been assured left alone it would be healed in less than a day, he shifted his weight in the seat and sipped a little spiced wine, the journey would take only a couple of hours and Faustian now began to realise his fatigue, upon his return he would begin his working day, more slaves purchases for the Holders estates, more livestock, ferocious bartering and brokering with hard bitten merchants, it would be a long, long day.

The shuttle was catapulted into the next system, Faustian stared only at the stars lonely in the black curtain from which they were hung.

Posted - 2004.02.03 13:42:00 - [3]

“Faustian” the voice was unfamiliar.

His head flinched as it was struck by the flat slender palm.

“Faustian!” the feminine voice was close.

Suddenly he awoke, as if from shadow into the blinding and inquisitive light, he struggled to realise his surroundings as his body also began to reintroduce the feelings of pain from his battered carcass, he felt himself being dragged upwards, consciousness seemed unusually cruel, seconds seemed to be hours, his eyes were clamped shut yet still light seemed to be there in spite of his effort to hide from it.

“Bright” he mumbled, the intensity of the light eased and as it did so Faustian began to regain some sense of composure thought the throbbing from his shoulder seemed to be a constant scream in his psyche. He cracked open his eyelids and inhaled, he was sat on the floor of a cell, lights dimmed, the Intaki woman stood a few metres away, cat-suited as before with an extended baton in one hand.

“Awake at last” she said, she sounded scornful, “good, care to tell me how an Amarri with that mark ends up set upon by his own people?” the baton was tapped against the cell floor, the only other sound was that of a dripping water dispenser, Faustian tilted his head to one side and lifted his gaze to match hers.

Shintoko Akahoshi
Risen Angels
Posted - 2004.02.04 05:37:00 - [4]

Most excellent! I'm waiting with baited breath for the next installment.

And feel free to visit La Maison, by the way. A certain Intaki might be willing to help heal your psyche from that terrible affair.


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