Commanders Log 10-02-3034 "Infamy and Creds"
15 Feb 2021Matteus_Prime
*The scene opens on our intrepid protag Commander Matteus Prime being held in an ad-hoc containment area. He is dirty, ragged and tied to the metallic frame of a stripped sleeping mattress. The rusted coils hiss and shudder with each prod of the electro-sueder his captors are using to try and rouse him.*I regain consciousness slowly. Sounds and smells first. Hydraulics and Lubricants. The stink of ozone and plasma. And old air. Must be . . . . "And what do we have ere?" A deep voice says, examining an ID tag found in my suit, "It reads: Matteus 'Oh boy did I really fuck up big this time' Prime." A few other voices chuckle and grunt as slow minds realize his rhyming.
There's something preventing me from seeing anything. Do my eyes even function? This is a terrible and strange sensation.
"Listen I don’t mean to be ungrateful or anything," my voice still works, barely. Need to think quickly, "but us there any chance you folks could give me sight again? I run a vlog from an optical transmitter and this action would definitely impress the fans!!! I mean the way you got me here? The secrecy? The people will really dig the professionalism. I mean this is classic! No one puts in this kind of effort anymore you know what I mean?
Suddenly I feel a hand pull something from my face. Feels tingly, like darko-sunglasses. Optical aids that counter out all forms of light. Intended for passenger space travel. Over the course of about 8 seconds, my vision returns. Bringing into focus the figure of a hulking grease monkey looming over me with a gang of lackeys behind him.
He leans close. Too close, and the remnants of chems, cigarettes and stale alcho-pop creep up like a sewage leak sliding slowly down a hill. My vision locks in a little tighter and I notice my ship, well, what's left of it in a few pieces further back in the massive cave we were in. A sliver of light in the background speaks of a hangar door.
"What do you mean?... Fans?" The question is simple. The tone is suspicious but definitely intrigued.
"Well," I reply, focusing on the big one, "I have been in a few situations like this before and found a way to provide mutual satisfaction to both parties you see?" His head tilts slightly to one side and his cronies start chattering as they compute what I'm saying.
"Rather than simply killing me. . . I can provide you with a service: You allow me to interview yourself and your crew, and you let me live in return." I smile openly and nod slowly, "It is infamy and creds you're seeking right?"
"You're right there" he says simply. Not quite taking the bait yet.
"Well perhaps you could tell me how this all began. When did you first get the idea for: …. I beg your pardon," I say quite matter of factly, "Lets take a few steps back and introduce you and your crew to the fans. And put on your best murder shirts boys, last time I checked the following was at 5 trill. We could do the scene over there by your most recent trophy."
"I frakking knew our time would come!" says one of the crew loudly "No more piddly shitty-small-smalls! We steppin up now!" another yells as he scrambles through a rucksack to pull an even shoddier looking garment from the within.
Time to bring in a little realism. Everyone knows nothing comes free, "Now now gentlemen, this opportunity is good for both of us. I get ratings and you get your Squads name out there. And I mean OUT there! But are you sure this fame is what you're after? You'll never be able to walk around station again without a fan screaming your name. Your arms will get numb as frag signing autographs. And it never stops. Endless requests for sex, mentions and promo appearances" I nod and frown a bit to the group trying to make my consideration and sincerity apparent to anyone with even half an atom of empathy. If any of you have hopes of settling down and starting families this really isn't the thing for you." A few loud chuckles. I have them now.
"Feel free to talk amongst yourselves but could I please be let down from here? I cant work like this."
"One false move and we frakking eat you. Copy?" says the big one. Nodding in my direction to one of the smaller ones to get me down.
"I copy Mr...?"
"Grease" he replies simply.
With a heave I'm released and I fall to the floor. Frak so exhausted. Ahh frag sakes, I'm going to have to use it.
*4 years ago in a ripper doc somewhere in the Skollobog System*
"So you're sure about this Doc?"
"Bet my life on it Prime, now its going to hurt and make no mistake. For the first 10 seconds until the nano-b's activate, you will think you're dying. But every bio-sig in within a 50 m range will be killed horribly. Just break out the prosthetic tooth and toss it. The detachment sensor will activate it after 5 seconds. The nano tec will kick in on its own. It'll hurt but you'll survive."
"Frakking A - This is some premo gear." I say throwing a cred stick onto the only slightly bloodied surface to the left of the ripper-chair I'm reclining in."
"This is single use. The Nano and the tooth. You were never here. I do not exist and there are two auto turrets with needle rounds pointed at you right now just in-case you decide to try and get any ideas. " he said, washing his hands in a grimy basin.
*One week ago in my Mamba, before all the crud hit the cosmic fan*
Sipping on some synth fruit juice I wonder if I'll ever have to use this thing. A 'patho-djin' it was called. Top of the line black market shit. I wonder if it will hurt? Probably never find out.
*Now*
I take a breath and struggle to my feet. I do my best to play out weak and non threatening. I walk over to the ship, slowly. I move up my hands and make a box like a view finder and start panning across them and the scene. The way to tell anyone you'll make them famous. I chuckle at their reaction. That really sealed the deal. "Now...." I begin with a little more professionalism in my voice. Just a little. "Were going to have to get everyone in nice and close..." Cough, wheeze, control them but don't give them time to analyse anything. Move to the next idea. . . "Do you have any form of rank here besides Mr Grease being the leader?" Pander to his power. that's it.
Grease directs a few of them to site on either side of him. Now for the finish. "Nice! . . .Yess!!!" Then I frown, concerned, and Mr.Grease is instantly locked onto me.
"What is it?" he asks with a grunt.
"Well I just need to get a slight of space around you for your silhouette to be properly defined. I start walking up to them. No one flinches. "So shoulders back and chins down. A natural stance so. . . Like this."
I move in to stand amongst them and a mere meter from Mr Grease making as if I'm looking at a camera in front of the group. I take a deep breath, break the tooth from its hold and spit it to the floor.
"All right everyone... Smile!" I grunt as five seconds pass.
"But why? There's no cam in front of us?" Asks Grease, confused after watching me spit something out.
"That's right Mr Grease you simple minded krud-bucket - There is no frakking camerrraaaagh" I chuckle, then cough, then scream as dark red blood spluttering from my mouth, grinning hideously at my captor. "I call this move Narcissus!" I howl as I fall to the floor convulsing as the activated Patho-djin starts to spread. It only takes about four seconds for all of them drop and follow suit.
I'm not sure how long it all took. We sprawled together, my captors and I as a writhing pile of convulsing flesh. The pain was inconceivable. At first it felt like molten metal was being fed into my veins. Then I could swear I could feel my capillaries exploding behind my eyes. One of my captors falls infront of me. Now on my level, I see the side of this neck. A tattoo, a crest of some sort. I wipe the blood out of the way. Try and read it but my eyes feel like they're melting. Can only make out the first, larger letter of each word: B.O.T.D.C. I blackout to a monstrous cacophony of screams and wails in the resonnating hollow of the cave.
*Scene cuts abruptly to black. The Episode ends"
o7