Dameon
Star
- Joined
- Jul 7, 2010
- Location
- Quebec, Canada
There are few things so universal as trade, and when there is trade, there are trade routes, and when there are trade routes, there are people who position themselves to take advantage of those routes. Restaurants, refilling stations, resorts, dens of debauchery and lust, bars for any substance known to man and inhuman alike, and of course, truck stops. Deep space was no different. This travel route was used by most legitimate, and many illegitimate, cargo ships. Partly for the assumed security of being on such a well known and well traveled route, and partly for the numerous amenities and services along it's path.
But then there were the people that just liked to drop in at the scuzziest arm pit establishments possible and meet some indecent types, get lost in a crowd, or, whatever ambiguous deity you're prone to worshiping forbid, work for a living. Lobo was here for a mix, with a favoring of the latter. Things were a bit dry as of late, the Lanterns had been on a binge cleaning out the sectors of a lot of his regular contacts. Someone, somewhere, had done something that tightened the collective green panties of that band of boy scouts. There was a slight tingle around his neck, and the Czarnian unconsciously scratched at his collar bone. A certain piece of jewelry he had always seemed to act up whenever those ring-riders came up in conversation.
Scanning the coffee stained menu, he grunted. Eating scuzz like this was humiliating. Watered down booze, meat that probably came in on the hood of someone's cargo ship or the bottom of someone's boot, and prices that were reserved for a four course meal where it was served by the type of scantily clad woman that'd let you eat it off her thighs if the tip was generous enough. He flattened the menu on the table and drummed his fingers across it. There was rumors that this place had the type of traffic that tended to get people like him work. People wanting escorts through dangerous short cuts, folks wanting a competitor's shipment to never see it's destination, or a good old fashioned hit. There were enough big businesses around here that could want some good, old fashioned corporate sabotage with a side of murder.
So far the only proposition he'd been given was from a lot lizard who looked like she'd (he thought it was a she at least) suck the stains off of a ship's hull if you gave her a bill. He could feel himself grimace at the imagery, and slid the menu away. At least he wasn't hungry anymore. Was his reputation that damaged? Spend a few weeks off the job, enjoying a bit of R & R cruising around with a migrating family of Space Dolphins and suddenly you've got people saying you've become a pacifist. He was half tempted to just torch the bar and leave his name spelt out in entrails in deep space just to let people know he was still breathing. Still, it was probably more due to the jolly green jobbers running around with their secret club rings that were cutting down his type of traffic more than anything.
And as if on cue he caught a very familiar glow of bright green from the corner of his eye entering the port. A trio of green, actually, the front of which made his way to the bar tender and created what looked like an old, less flattering version, of Lobo's head shot. The little squib behind the bar pointed one of his digit-less appendages towards the Czarnian, and the lead lightbulb made eye contact. He'd have to remember to remove that limb from the bar tender before he left. The other two were waved over by their commander and the trio marched towards him with self imposed, imaginary authority. They positioned themselves casually, but Lobo knew they were jockeying for position should they need to co-ordinate some sort of assault.
The Lantern in front was some sort of typical biped, pink skin, no hair, beady yellow eyes. Each hand had two thick fingers and a similarly sized thumb, as well as what looked like small, curved horns protruding from the top of his head. The one to his left was big, looked like some sort of species of sentient rock. Four big arms, a massive over bite, but no teeth or eyes. Big, strong, slow, some sort of non-light based perception, probably based on vibrations. The one to his right looked similarly alien compared to his leader, essentially a giant space centipede, dozens of little arms/legs, a set of compound eyes and what looked like a nasty pair of pincers for a mouth.
The pink skinned horn head created what was supposed to be some sort of light construct based warrant and held it out for Lobo to see. "We have questions, and you're going to answer them. Let's go."
The Czarnian kicked his boots up onto the table, and reached one hand into the inside of his coat, an action which prompted the three lanterns to quickly produce their charged rings and center them on him. A grin, with sharp canines, plastered itself on Lobo's face as he drew a large cigar and a lighter. The Lantern's poise relaxed some and he placed the large stoogie between his lips, lighting it and taking a few large puffs before blowing a smoke ring in the lead's direction. He could feel the itch at his collar burning slightly and tapped a bit of the ash onto the table. "Sparky, if you're going to take me anywhere I don't want to go...." He chomped down on the cigar and rolled it from one corner of his mouth to the other. "...you're gonna need a bigger ring."
But then there were the people that just liked to drop in at the scuzziest arm pit establishments possible and meet some indecent types, get lost in a crowd, or, whatever ambiguous deity you're prone to worshiping forbid, work for a living. Lobo was here for a mix, with a favoring of the latter. Things were a bit dry as of late, the Lanterns had been on a binge cleaning out the sectors of a lot of his regular contacts. Someone, somewhere, had done something that tightened the collective green panties of that band of boy scouts. There was a slight tingle around his neck, and the Czarnian unconsciously scratched at his collar bone. A certain piece of jewelry he had always seemed to act up whenever those ring-riders came up in conversation.
Scanning the coffee stained menu, he grunted. Eating scuzz like this was humiliating. Watered down booze, meat that probably came in on the hood of someone's cargo ship or the bottom of someone's boot, and prices that were reserved for a four course meal where it was served by the type of scantily clad woman that'd let you eat it off her thighs if the tip was generous enough. He flattened the menu on the table and drummed his fingers across it. There was rumors that this place had the type of traffic that tended to get people like him work. People wanting escorts through dangerous short cuts, folks wanting a competitor's shipment to never see it's destination, or a good old fashioned hit. There were enough big businesses around here that could want some good, old fashioned corporate sabotage with a side of murder.
So far the only proposition he'd been given was from a lot lizard who looked like she'd (he thought it was a she at least) suck the stains off of a ship's hull if you gave her a bill. He could feel himself grimace at the imagery, and slid the menu away. At least he wasn't hungry anymore. Was his reputation that damaged? Spend a few weeks off the job, enjoying a bit of R & R cruising around with a migrating family of Space Dolphins and suddenly you've got people saying you've become a pacifist. He was half tempted to just torch the bar and leave his name spelt out in entrails in deep space just to let people know he was still breathing. Still, it was probably more due to the jolly green jobbers running around with their secret club rings that were cutting down his type of traffic more than anything.
And as if on cue he caught a very familiar glow of bright green from the corner of his eye entering the port. A trio of green, actually, the front of which made his way to the bar tender and created what looked like an old, less flattering version, of Lobo's head shot. The little squib behind the bar pointed one of his digit-less appendages towards the Czarnian, and the lead lightbulb made eye contact. He'd have to remember to remove that limb from the bar tender before he left. The other two were waved over by their commander and the trio marched towards him with self imposed, imaginary authority. They positioned themselves casually, but Lobo knew they were jockeying for position should they need to co-ordinate some sort of assault.
The Lantern in front was some sort of typical biped, pink skin, no hair, beady yellow eyes. Each hand had two thick fingers and a similarly sized thumb, as well as what looked like small, curved horns protruding from the top of his head. The one to his left was big, looked like some sort of species of sentient rock. Four big arms, a massive over bite, but no teeth or eyes. Big, strong, slow, some sort of non-light based perception, probably based on vibrations. The one to his right looked similarly alien compared to his leader, essentially a giant space centipede, dozens of little arms/legs, a set of compound eyes and what looked like a nasty pair of pincers for a mouth.
The pink skinned horn head created what was supposed to be some sort of light construct based warrant and held it out for Lobo to see. "We have questions, and you're going to answer them. Let's go."
The Czarnian kicked his boots up onto the table, and reached one hand into the inside of his coat, an action which prompted the three lanterns to quickly produce their charged rings and center them on him. A grin, with sharp canines, plastered itself on Lobo's face as he drew a large cigar and a lighter. The Lantern's poise relaxed some and he placed the large stoogie between his lips, lighting it and taking a few large puffs before blowing a smoke ring in the lead's direction. He could feel the itch at his collar burning slightly and tapped a bit of the ash onto the table. "Sparky, if you're going to take me anywhere I don't want to go...." He chomped down on the cigar and rolled it from one corner of his mouth to the other. "...you're gonna need a bigger ring."