Nobody with any sense comes to Pandora for any reason other than money, which is exactly why York’s here. A quick job, one-and-done—just grab some goods and haul out, and the drop point isn’t even that far from here. Just a few days and she’ll make enough on this payday to buy herself a whole goddamn beach vacation, which she sorely needs and deeply, deeply deserves. A bad run of luck resulting in a few jobs going sour has kind of harshed her vibe lately, and while she’s not at risk of starving or anything, she’s getting a little tired of dodging misinformed creditors who think she owes them someone else’s money. Not getting paid stings enough, but to go so far as identity theft to screw over your ex-contractor? Now that’s just uncalled for. York is badly in need of a good time.
Which is why this job lit her right up. She’s worked for this client before, and they’re reliable with the payout, if a little hands off. It’s a grab bag job—they’ll buy as much as she can loot in a single jaunt—which means she can be flexible, and York always prefers flexibility. And to top it all off, it looks easy. Frankly so it’s almost a little boring, so York forgoes her usually rigorous homework on the mark and she decides, well against Delta’s suggestion, to wing it almost based purely on the information handed to her by her employer. She does a little joint-casing when she hits planetside, but once she confirms that the security really is as nonexistent as the reports say, anything short of a half-blind run would just be a yawn. So she’s on Pandora for less than a full day before she makes her move.
The place is obviously closed for business at night, and apparently unguarded, too. York can think of a dozen places she’d put guards if she had even the slightest inclination to protecting the place. Maybe they’re too broke for guards, she muses as she squints up at the high window that’s her best bet for a clean entry. Then again, who’s got high-value assets bored rich people would literally kill for and no security budget?
“Who’s got out-of-print Atlas tech and no security budget?” she mutters to herself as she bends over a shelf stocked with some very fancy-looking guns, some of which look like they might actually work. Delta automatically begins tallying their estimated values in the back of her mind as her eyes land on each item. He only adds in the little kaching sound effects because York insisted.
Would you like to know? he asks in the confines of her mind, a little too politely.
“Aw, come on, D, don’t tell me you cheated.”
I have not allowed the information to influence my tactical advice, if it makes you feel better.
York jabs her penlight up at the ceiling in emphasis for lack of a body to point it at, perhaps a little carelessly. “You still cheated. Not cool.” She points the light back at the very large rocket launcher in front of her, inspecting it carefully. “We’re gonna have a talk about this later. There are professional boundaries at stake here, D.”
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sunchime2016-12-27 10:11 am
for rhys
Which is why this job lit her right up. She’s worked for this client before, and they’re reliable with the payout, if a little hands off. It’s a grab bag job—they’ll buy as much as she can loot in a single jaunt—which means she can be flexible, and York always prefers flexibility. And to top it all off, it looks easy. Frankly so it’s almost a little boring, so York forgoes her usually rigorous homework on the mark and she decides, well against Delta’s suggestion, to wing it almost based purely on the information handed to her by her employer. She does a little joint-casing when she hits planetside, but once she confirms that the security really is as nonexistent as the reports say, anything short of a half-blind run would just be a yawn. So she’s on Pandora for less than a full day before she makes her move.
The place is obviously closed for business at night, and apparently unguarded, too. York can think of a dozen places she’d put guards if she had even the slightest inclination to protecting the place. Maybe they’re too broke for guards, she muses as she squints up at the high window that’s her best bet for a clean entry. Then again, who’s got high-value assets bored rich people would literally kill for and no security budget?
“Who’s got out-of-print Atlas tech and no security budget?” she mutters to herself as she bends over a shelf stocked with some very fancy-looking guns, some of which look like they might actually work. Delta automatically begins tallying their estimated values in the back of her mind as her eyes land on each item. He only adds in the little kaching sound effects because York insisted.
Would you like to know? he asks in the confines of her mind, a little too politely.
“Aw, come on, D, don’t tell me you cheated.”
I have not allowed the information to influence my tactical advice, if it makes you feel better.
York jabs her penlight up at the ceiling in emphasis for lack of a body to point it at, perhaps a little carelessly. “You still cheated. Not cool.” She points the light back at the very large rocket launcher in front of her, inspecting it carefully. “We’re gonna have a talk about this later. There are professional boundaries at stake here, D.”