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The Runner Files
  • I have moved the Baptiste story here to make it easier to read (thank you, everyone, for the suggestion!) and keep everything in one place.  Comments, tips, suggestions, crits-all are welcome to be posted here, too.
    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • I'll start off with a few renders of the characters so far.
    Baptiste
    image
    Baptiste Portrait Final.jpg
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    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • Anariimage
    close up.jpg
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    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • Luciusimage
    Lucius.jpg
    1000 x 1500 - 1M
    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • Do you need help moving the other stuff over? If I were awake, I could have split it off the other thread. >_< Admin powers are useless when the admin is snoring in bed.

    EDIT: The next scenes are Grim's, but I moved them from Horror/Sci-Fi thread. Any errors or omissions are all mine.
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • The next afternoon after the few errands Baptiste needed to finished finally were, he set about heading to a very different quarter of the City than was his norm. It was older. Almost refined if you could look past the decay and sheer age of some of the buildings in this quadrant. All of the aging beauty of the structures and statues that were left were ignored as Baptiste made his way down certain streets, hidden alleyways and to a well tucked away building that happened to be his primary target.

    He hadn't even topped the steps to the large double front doors when one swung open. The slightly surprised expression on Lucius' face probably matched the one Baptiste wore-before the slant of a smirk took over and changed the expression to something that hinted at predatory.

    "Headin' out?" Lucius gave him a slight squint and a nod as he took a lean against the still closed door to his side.

    "Yes. Have something to attend to. You didn't Com, I wasn't expecting you." Lucius' tone was almost guarded, the intel beyond vague. That wasn't anything abnormal when the two came across each other's paths in a public setting.

    "Well." Baptiste arched a brow as Lucius took that pose against the door. "Thought you might have some time.. Pick up a bottle. Maybe have a little fun."

    Lucius' expression hardened...maybe it was just the way his eyes darkened? Baptiste wasn't given too much time to contemplate either when Lucius stood straight and took a few steps closer to the edge of the steps that led into the hall behind him. "No."

    The challenge was almost too much to pass up.

    Baptiste took one slow step up to near Lucius' position and was brought to a halt by an index fingertip shoved just under his collarbone below the Cell Skin shirt he wore. He glanced down to the finger jabbed into his torso before eyes angled back up to Lucius. "It's just a little fun. Tell me you haven't thought about it." He put a little of that challenge, the temptation, into those two sentences.

    It wasn't enough. "I am not your f*cking toy, Baptiste. I will never be one. The answer was, is and will be 'no'. You want that, find it at the Pit." Lucius' voice spoke volumes more than the upfront and straight edged answer-

    Baptiste wasn't going to get his rocks off here.

    He said nothing as he stepped aside to let Lucius pass and head down the stairs to the cobblestone street that almost gave up the ghost of being a street at all. He stayed silent while the door swung shut behind him- the mechanism automatically closing and locking it behind Lucius' departure on the designated time. It wasn't until Lucius turned a corner and was out of sight when Baptiste gave a disgusted sigh, turned, and prowled away in the other direction.

    Maybe he will go to the pit.

    Maybe Lucius one day will take the challenge.

    Too many maybe's for one damn day.image
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • It had been disappointing, trolling the seven levels of Torrence. Once part of the 'new and improved' living structure base, it had in the last decade or so fallen well beyond seedy- something that had on more than one occasion proved beneficial to Baptiste in these sort of moods.

    Today, however, had not ended in a lucrative manner. Neither for his wallet or other baser pursuits.

    He had harbored some small micron of hope for the last building on the seventh level, situated right before the loading bays, but once Baptiste rounded the corner that took him from the lift to the deck told him that micron of hope had been wasted. Even as he walked past the litter, trash barrels and the whore on the second level above him he eyed the well armed Patrol on the stoop of the section that used to house one of the more fruitful 'trade' spots in Torrence.

    Evidently it had been sterilized. Beyond the alcove the papers that covered the door screamed legalities of how, why, and who closed the establishment down. He kept the cursing in his head as he nodded and passed by the Patrol to the beaten up dispenser that the bot had been fiddling with while Baptiste made his way along the deck.

    As the crates were moved into the loading dock behind him, Baptiste fiddled with the newly "fixed" machine- It was best to be inconspicuous when the Patrol was concerned, he was simply wanting a Carb. Even if the damn dispenser still didn't work. He shoved the machine, cursed, and headed back the way he came just as any normal, disgruntled person would do.

    Perhaps it was time to hit more familiar ground. Com with a familiar person. Maybe he'd get a break and a bit of luck.image
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • In the distant future...

    "No deal."

    "Why not? The skin bags won't miss them, if they have the brains to figure out they're missing to begin with."

    "No. Take them to the market. You'll have your Daric there."

    "I do not like them. They smell." The larger of the two waved a hand aside with a snarl.

    "That is not my concern. Perhaps you can teach them to bathe? Either way, I will not barter this." Anari lifted a hand to dismiss Siek, even as the news cast behind him carried on in regards to the "skin bag's" riots going on currently in Mid-Town.

    Siek snarled again and walked off, the weight of the larger alien even had Anari's chair vibrate in his wake. The sigh was quiet as he turned his head to briefly watch the screen behind him.

    It was too risky in dealing with black market goods; too many hands, too much risk and not enough reward. The humans tended to lean toward violence should deals go wrong and Anari was one that wasn't up to shedding blood over a few circuits and motherboards.

    Note: Daric is actually gold coins from ancient Persia, but it sounded good. I may keep it for the progression of the story.image
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • Anari finally rented a suitable room at the hostel, shed the armor and stepped into the cleaning unit when the buzzer went off at the entry door. The sigh that escaped him was quiet while the doors circled around him to open up to the small interior of the room.

    "Hey, Pastie. Lemme in. Why the hell didn't you call me when you landed, you snarky bastid?"

    The voice he recognized behind the entry door had him sigh louder. Yes, Anari debated.

    Open the door or pretend he wasn't there?

    "C'mon, damnit. I watched you go inside, I know you're in there."

    So ends the debate. He will find a towel and open the blasted door.image
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • The meeting at the docking deck had not been forgotten, Baptiste simply heard someone was in town and that someone needed to be taken care of first. When Anari opened the hostel room door and stepped back into the rented room, Baptiste smirked while closing the door behind him.

    "Now you choose modesty? Tsk." He copped a squat on the piss ass seat (the only seat) in the room and arched a brow toward the alien runner. "You didn't call. I'm disappointed."

    Anari ignored the blithe commentary and returned the arch of a brow back to the human. "I was not aware that was a prerequisite to my arrival. What do you want?"

    So impatient. "Siek. I've heard rumors through the grapevine that bastard was on the ground. Is this true?" The teasing look on Baptiste's face was now wiped clean. It was all business.

    "Yes. It is." Anari's eyes squinted at the male in suspicion. "You do know he is peddling off some wares." It wasn't a question, at all.

    "Of course I do, it's the only reason he "suffers" this planet. Do you know where he went?" Baptiste's tone was cool. Even keeled. Which only aroused Anari's suspicions further. "I assume the market. I did not want what he was trying to get rid of."

    Anari did not give a clue as to what the other alien had his grips on- if the male wanted to know, he could go hunt down the larger Siek and ask for himself. "If you do not mind, I would like to get some rest. It was, after all, a very long trip." He did not want to know why Baptiste wanted Siek for. Plausible deniability was crucial when dealing with this human.

    "Fine, fine-I'll spare your modesty for hell's sake." Baptiste smirked once more as he stood. Anari was given a head to toe look over before the smirk widened into a wicked, half-slanted grin. "I already know what you've got hiding anyways."

    Before Baptiste opened the door, a Com card was put onto the seat with a glance back toward Anari. "Call me if you see him again. He and I have words to exchange."

    As the door slid closed behind the human Anari sighed and dropped his focus to the Com card on the seat. Not what he wanted or needed at all; sitting in the mid-point between those two and whatever argument that had gone on between them before was asking for bloodshed.

    The blanket was thrown aside with a quiet snarl, the closet door rotated with a shushed sound to reveal the suit he had worn in the lobby.

    It was a full two minutes of consideration and silence before the shushed sound of the closet door was heard again.

    Fine. Anari will stay. He will Com if/when Siek shows himself again. Then?

    He will go back home and stay out of the human's line of sight. Every time he finds himself in it, there's a damn bloodbath.image
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • Nanobot said:

    Do you need help moving the other stuff over? If I were awake, I could have split it off the other thread. >_< Admin powers are useless when the admin is snoring in bed.

    EDIT: The next scenes are Grim's, but I moved them from Horror/Sci-Fi thread. Any errors or omissions are all mine.



    Thank you!!  We ended up having company.......at 8:30 in the a.m.  I appreciate you moving these for me! *hug!*  There are Melie and Khold's that need to be slipped here, too, if you don't mind? XD
    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • You have the helm, sir. :)  For inserts further up, I suggest just edit your last portrait post. The forum software won't insert comments between other comments in threads.
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • And if you need other assistance and Nan isn't around, feel free to poke at me, I can help you out.
    Jim Farris, Author, Science Fiction and Fantasy
    Jim Farris, Author, Science Fiction and Fantasy
  • All in one place is much easier, yes. :)
  • Xaa said:

    And if you need other assistance and Nan isn't around, feel free to poke at me, I can help you out.



    Yep. Jim (Xaa) is a moderator & can do much magickx here. :D
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • *waits impatiently for more installments*
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • Meanwhile:

    Even with a new name and life, the "relocation" still didn't set well with Khold. The jumper was cramped and two clicks away from falling apart. The crew seemed better suited to dumping bodies than transporting them. He hadn't even attempted to digest the crap they consider food yet, sticking instead to a meager liquid diet of whatever else he could find at the galley when the crew were busy elsewhere.

    In short? This sucked beyond suckage.

    Still. He was alive. That was something, at least. 

    Maybe.

    Confined to the cramped sack by the Captain, Khold heard voices over at the ladder that led to the locker. He had no idea who the two men were or what they were actually saying, but someone wasn't happy by the sounds of it. He lay there, stock still, for a good five minutes trying to listen to their muted conversation before he decided enough was enough. With a stretch his hand snagged the handle to the glass door of his sack and closed it, effectively cutting off any sound of the ensuing argument before rolling onto his back with a sigh.

    The book and file between he and the sack wall were given a glance before they were dismissed, instead flipping the switch to turn off the light and attempting to fall asleep. He had a good five days before he reached their destination and he can get off of this damn ship, and he wasn't about to stick his head into yet another noose to get himself killed before he could get there.

    It was bad enough that he was in this situation to begin with.

    Baptiste owed him. Big time. That redheaded bastard was going to pay for the mistake of leaving him alive.image
    Relocated.jpg
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    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • Meanwhile part two:

    While Anari was interrupted in the hostel, a certain connection waited; Baptiste had commissioned a purchase of a particular bike for a client a good two months prior, one bike that just so happened to be currently on the taxi pad of the skyterminal at the other end of mid-town. 

    Melie wasn't all that enthused over waiting, considering the nature of the beast he sat on. The pad attendants had taken note of the bike once he started unloading it- enough so that the thought of leaving it there to go look for the red-headed devil was put aside. The last thing Melie needed was the blasted thing stolen.

    He was going to give Baptiste another five minutes, and Melie was going to call the man. There was business to take care of, and he needed a farkin' drink. Yesterday. How Melie hated travel.image
    melie_waiting.jpg
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    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • And a portrait (sorta) of Khold, since I forgot to add him to the others at the top of this thread.image
    Khold_and_the_Ring_Chair.jpg
    600 x 900 - 375K
    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • Anari on his home-world, sitting in front of his home.  More than likely glancing aside to the person coming up the path in his direction with a thought- What now?

    Dome hut made in Silo (sheet rod, sheet, rings, base and steps as well), textured in Poser 10.  Nan's freebie laced shorts and a few props.
    image
    At home.jpg
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    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • A little bit of the past:

    Baptiste caught Lucius at a moment when his defenses weren't up, and took the chance.  Though he'd let the moment stretch until Lucius was the one to close the distance, he watched the man from almost closed eyes to see his expression while he waited.  

    Would he, or wouldn't he? 
    image
    A Moment2.jpg
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    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • You are going great guns, Dar!

  • Thanks! XD  I do try.   Sometimes, I don't succeed.  lol
    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • Finally at his destination, Khold impatiently gave the coordinates for where the crates that held all of his worldly possessions were to be delivered and wandered out of the cramped transport and found a relatively quiet spot at the station to decompress.  The difference between the transport and this wide, open and sky lit chamber astounded him.  It wasn't too long before the stressed pinching of his features gave way to something almost calm.

    He had no idea on how long he stood there watching the clouds drift by and the occasional sky taxi flew by, but his quiet would be interrupted by a low beep of a sound that came from the comm within the armor he wore.  When he turned on the ear piece he was told his taxi was ready and waiting.

    The slow stretch of his lips soon had a smirk decorating his face while he waded through the hustle and bustle of travelers to the exit landing for his ride.  He had people to comm, plans to make, and food to get.  Not in that specific order.

    *note....I finally did a Daz Studio render.  XD
    image
    Unloaded and Waiting.jpg
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    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • At an undisclosed location outside of the city of Esolde where Khold landed, a lone figure stood outside of a gateway to the Wastelands.  

    Savage knew the meet-up time wasn't until the next day with Khold.  His instincts told him that there wasn't another soul in a ten klick radius, that didn't stop him from his patrol of the outskirts of the planned rally point.

    Considering what this joint venture held for them both, cautionary tactics would be the theme of the day.

    Savage withstood the glare of the overhead sun long enough, satisfied that the silence was not due to pickets out in the surrounding land scape, and un-assed himself from his position to head back to the well hidden bunker for some chow.  It's going to be a long day tomorrow.

    *another Studio render.  I haven't worked in Studio for so long, I figured why not?  I've dl'd and installed the newest version and put the scene together and ran with it.  I shoulda tweaked the metal shaders on the clothing and props, though.  Whoops.
    image
    Savage.jpg
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    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • Melie ended up getting his drink and even company to boot once Baptiste met him at the sky terminal's taxi pad and paid the guy that hauled the fuel burner (bike) into the cargo bay and off to the buyer he procured for it earlier that month.  Since the red-head needed a drink as well, it was all too convenient to simply offer to pay Melie's way since he had made the man wait while he spoke with Anari.

    Baptiste knew a little hole in the wall joint that had cheap drinks and decent food, so he led the way out of the terminal, down the chute and out to the street.  It was a good fifteen minute walk through the mass of people, but they eventually got to the side-alley off of the main walk and took a table outside of the double wooden doors for their drinks and lunch.

    The easy banter between the two men changed in a subtle way after a bit.

    "I heard and seen something on the way over here you should be aware of."  Melie's brows rose as he swayed back on his seat.  "He's alive, you know."

    Baptiste didn't pause nor change his expression- that "he" could be numerous people.  "Oh?"  The disinterest wasn't altogether feigned.  

    A smirk slipped over Melie's lips for a brief moment- cocky bastard.  "I don't know what they've told you at the meat tank, but I've seen him.  He didn't see me, but he's hard to miss.  That skin's a dead give-a-way." 

    The hint of whom Melie spoke of brought a faint frown to mar Baptiste's brow. The hint narrowed the list to a couple of bodies.  Literally.  "Tell me, damn it.  I'm not of a mind to beat the bush today, Mei."

    Baptiste would have to excuse the snickering.  "Khold."

    The silence between the men stretched for a few seconds before Baptiste heaved a disgusted sigh, "that man has more lives than a manged cat."  The snarled words were going to be cut off by the lift of his bottle to finish off the swill at the bottom of it.  "Damn it.  How many times do I have to shoot him?"

    "My guess?  At least once more." 


    imageimageimage
    Lunch.jpg
    1200 x 1200 - 440K
    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.
  • Ya beat me to it! Disregard the poke over in the Rendo Gallery. So lovely to see more of the naughty red-head.
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • BTW, Khold's skin is awesomely yummy.
    * A child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!
    * Isn't it wonderful how cute weapons of mass distraction can be?
    * Those are my principles. And if you don't like them, I have others.
  • Thank you!  XD  Poke disregarded, doll.  I'm glad you're enjoying this story, I've been.  Khold's skin has been fun to make, he's still not where I want him to sell, but soon.

    Soon, my preciousssssssssssssss.
    "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it. " Mark Twain.

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