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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Viktyr Gehrig" data-source="post: 1236578" data-attributes="member: 9249">In the skies of Bluefall, en route to Fat Tony's: "Thisbetterbebetterthanthelastjob," Samuel chattered rapidly, his nervousness speeding up his already swift speech. "Talk slower, lizardman." Samuel's rapid speech was amoung Deakon's strongest pet peeves "I'mtrying! I'm trying!" "It doesn't matter," Nails replied from behind her mask. "We need the money." She casually toyed with one of the many knives she kept in her jumpsuit. Under the mask, Nails had metallic golden skin, a by-product of Thuldan bioengineering. Whenever possible, she wore a pair of slender swords, several knives, and her gun in various hidden spaces on a charcoal grey jumpsuit-- better to be prepared than dead, her training had taught her. The aircar glided smoothly to a stop next to a worn-down strip mall, and Nails, Deakon, and Samuel stepped out. They opened the chain-link gate stretched across the door of the Pawn Shop-- while officially closed for business, it was always open for "business", and Fat Tony had asked for them. They walked in confidently, knowing Tony would be happy to see them. "Deakon, my man! My go-to guy... How the hell are ya?" Fat Tony lived up to the name, a solidly obese man of mostly Italian descent. He wore a dark blue suit, a white shirt, and a green tie with small red stains on it. To those he considered friends, he claimed to have come to Bluefall from Earth itself, but people in a position to know quietly claimed he escaped young from a Hatire colony and never looked back. The computer gauntlet on his sleeve suggested that, if this were the case, his break had been complete. Deakon shook hands with Tony, and they took seats in his office-- a backroom in his busy pawn and import store. "Hear you've got a job for us." Fat Tony smiled and nodded. "It's a doozy. Sesheyan extraction, arranged by a VC ex-patriate on Grith. Lucky for you, he's an ex-pat with connections." Deakon groaned. "We couldn't afford charity work even if we wanted to, Tony. We need cash, and a lot of it." Tonight's stunt had given them enough funds to stay planetside for another week or so, but they needed money-- if this job turned up a bust, they'd have to live off of ship's supplies, and they'd have no way of replacing those. Fat Tony chuckled. "No worries, Deakon. No worries. Get to Corrivale and find a Sesheyan who goes by Shadowsong. May not be a retirement gig, but it's good money." Deakon quirked an eyebrow. "Shadowsong?" Tony shrugged. "Hey, if you were actively opposing VoidCorp every day of your life, would you go by your real name?"  Deakon thought for a second, and then nodded. "We'll do it."</blockquote>

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