Log 05X-9
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders
-Date: 114.05.02
Well, Journal, preparations are just about done, and not a moment too soon. Sorta. I mean, there's still roughly a month before I make my move, but it's given me some time to sit back and double check that I've done everything I can ensure this all goes smoothly. My money is harder to track than a cloaked scouter, I've got just enough assets left to put up a facade of giving a shit in my contracts for the time left to me, and I've currently got some implants to learn how to finally fly a damn ship hooked up to my tech. Granted, I'm not a capsuleer, so things don't -exactly- translate, but I figure it's more or less accurate, and it saves me the hassle of having to hire an actual crew and then bribe them to keep their mouths shut or just flat-out murder them. Ordinarily, I'd be joking about that last bit, but looking back at the things I've done and the business I've gotten myself into, perhaps it's not as comical as I'd like it to be.
Don't get me wrong, talking with Kaz has helped me realize that it's a little too late to, uh, backtrack on my particular career choice, even if it wasn't nearly as much of a choice in the beginning, and talking with Chime reminded me that I've gotten awfully philosophical about a job that's pretty simple, all things considered. Pull trigger, try not to die, get paid, repeat. Ruminating on the spiritual or ethical choices of a system designed to not only keep everyone alive but also return them home at the end of the day is kind of like discussing the moral ramifications of being some kind of pencil pushing bureaucrat, though as far as -that- goes, I'm relatively sure I've killed way less people than bureaucrats have, especially permanently. At any rate, it's probably not my place (and god knows you've had to listen to my whining about ethics more than anyone, Journal) but I think it's probably one of the few things that really helps me cope. Or was. Did? Will? I dunno. I'm not sure I'm going to keep writing after I'm done with this. Perhaps I'll edit a few things and put this out on the net, let the common folk see what it's like to live without ever dying. Or maybe I'll just delete the whole thing and laugh about it. At this point, anything seems like a viable option; Aside from my funds, I'm not actually taking a whole lot with me; A good luck charm Kaz made me from part of a dud artillery shell that landed right next to him, a hair decoration that Chime gave me after landing a particularly lucrative contract, and as for the Doc...I'll have to think about it.
As far as my family goes...I do have a picture. I went landside just before the end of last month to take it. Gods, they've all gotten so much bigger. My brother is almost as tall as I am, and that's post surgical and genetic enhancement. The kids are all walking now, and most of them can talk, save for little Sina. She's the youngest, technically, given that her and Rive are twins, but she was born about a minute later than he was. I...I'm not gonna lie, Journal, I wasn't in top form when I came down. I had presents lined up and was totally prepared to make the most of what time I had left with them, but I broke quicker than a Caldari being forced to sell shit at cost. I'm not the most...familial person, Journal. What I did when I was younger, I did more out of a sense of duty to my siblings than out of any love, and while that might seem cold, it kept them alive and healthy. I think if I'd let myself love them, then the sense of guilt for them being put in such a shit situation would've killed me, even if it was hardly my fault to begin with.
Well, that went out the fucking window, and about any composure I had with it. I walked through the doorway to our-their house, and I just...couldn't. Seeing them all, happy and healthy and knowing that I contributed to it all, and it was one of the few times in my life where I've felt like I've actually contributed something positive to the universe, and I just couldn't. And then they put those tiny fucking hands on me, trying to make me feel better, and my brother held me, and I swear to god I don't want to go now. I really, really, really fucking don't. We talked, and laughed, and I got to actually feel like part of my own family for the first fucking time, and it's all going to be torn away because I cannot and will not let them be torn apart by those fucks in our government just so they can get to me. So instead I sucked it up, and after bawling like I was younger than Sina we went and toured their house, seeing their bedrooms, the kitchen, the entertainment room, etc. It was all so...normal, which was kinda hard to comprehend, if I'm gonna be real. I mean, I've got a vid screen up in my apartment, but since I've just got the basic package it's like ninety-nine percent ads for weapon deals (which are getting increasingly more desperate, I might add) and the occasional ad for stuff like new suits and whatnot.
I was kinda glad to see that they were living fairly modestly; The house wasn't too big, and their clothing and food was nice, but not extravagant, something I guess my brother picked up from me. I've sent them a loooot of money, especially considering it has to be exchanged for planetside currency, so they're gonna be fine for a long, long, while. After they showed me around, they had me sit down and asked about a million questions about my job, just about all of which I couldn't answer. Even if I wasn't about to give the government the finger and head on out, there's so much that's still classified that even knowing a hint about it would land them in a "reeducation camp" somewhere with the flimsiest fucking excuse for a trial ever. Besides, licensed mercenary isn't exactly a family table topic of conversation, whether it's your job or not, right? I'm seriously asking, since I have no fucking idea.
I've contemplated the idea of just pulling them out of their lives completely, but I can't do that. It would destabilize everything I've worked for, and if I couldn't find someplace to help them settle down again? They'd be screwed. Besides, the only other places they would be safe are in foreign space, which...isn't really so much more safe as less likely to wind up strapped to a chair somewhere. As it is, I know they're going to be abducted; That's...just a thing that's going to happen. Once I'm off the radar, they'll come kicking down doors and brandishing these guns that might've been able to put a round in some of the earliest suits they produced for us. They'll scare the shit out of them, talk about not seeing their relatives again, about going to jail forever, etc, but once it finally becomes clear that they'll have no idea where I am, they'll be released. They might be fucking assholes, but even my government won't just up and execute people for absolutely no reason.
So after we played twenty bajillion questions, we settled down for dinner, we snuggled up together to watch a movie, and then...well, it was time to go. Everyone except the oldest was rubbing sleep out of their eyes anyway, and there was only one shuttle back up beyond the atmosphere scheduled for the day. Hugs were given, right alongside a ton of kisses, and...that was it. I left.
I've done some shit things, Journal. I don't deserve the love they showed me. But that didn't stop every step away from their place becoming that much more difficult. All my money, all my experience, I'd trade all of it away just to have another day with them. But I can't.
I'm going to miss them.
-End Log
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Log 05X-4
Log 05X-4
Author: Rinas Rylos
Rank: C.E.O.
Corporation: Rinas' Raiders
Date: 117.02.25
Mood: Introspective
Weather: None. I live in space. Dur.
Weather in the battles today wasn't actually that great. It's hardly fun being shot at in the best of conditions, but when a veritable sandstorm is raining down on you like the asswipe of an angry deity? No fucking thank you. Normally we don't fight while weather is hitting us like this; Fucks with the electronics, makes it harder to identify FoF (Friend or Foe) signals, and there's the small, but not zero chance that we'll land a drop pod into the side of a refinery or whatever the fuck we're fighting over, ruining the whole thing and pretty much rendering the entire contract invalid. Granted, the fact that it'll change hands in about a week renders the whole thing a massive waste anyway, but, details. The entire contract was...well, imagine a normal one, but with visibility shortened to about ten feet in front of you. Yeah. I dunno how many shotguns littered the ground after that crap, but it's fair to say there's a factory out that's going into overtime to make up for all the ones we wasted.
So I thought I'd give a follow up on some more folks I didn't get to last time. Mostly because I'm writing these just before it's time for bed, usually, and sleepiness tends to claim me when I'm right in the middle of writing, and if I just keep doing that then I'll have a bunch of half-written entries and not actually complete any of them, so sometimes they've gotta be a little on the short side. Anyway! Chime. Do you remember Chime, diary? Equal parts cheerful and screwed up? Had a ridiculous fondness for pink? Yeah, she's become a fucking monster now. Still just as cheerful and sweet, and hardly a day goes by that I don't get an invitation to visit for food or try on some dress she found that she thought I'd like or something like that, but when she's on the battlefield, it's like she's another person entirely; By which I mean she turns into a beast fueled on the blood and fear of her enemies. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally happy to have (mostly) helped her work past her issues, especially since they were pretty similar to mine, but more than once I've been all too glad that she and I have been on the same side of a contract. You wouldn't think a single soldier with a crappy stealth module and a nova knife could inspire terror in hardened mercenaries, but...well, until I saw her go to work, I didn't know the human body had that much blood in it, so it was...educational, if nothing else.
I guess that leaves my family. Proper family, I mean, not that sack of shit sperm donor. They're all doing fairly well, or as well as they can be when I'm spending an obscene amount of money to keep them away from prying eyes. All that stuff about me disappearing from the records? A lot cheaper to do it to civilians, oddly enough. I guess the lack of killing ability means they're not exactly high up on the priority list, though you do have to shell out extra to make sure nobody gets curious about why precisely these random ass civvies need to go off the grid. Still, I have to imagine that there's at least one school admin out there who is confused as hell about why these kids all have different names in the computer. Yeah, I didn't actually pull them out of their lives, they shouldn't have to deal with what I'm doing, but all the computer registries have their names replaced by...I dunno what, I didn't look that far, but the important thing is that no one should come looking for them. Also, I hired some old "friends" to keep watch around the house and if they see anyone that looks suspicious they break their kneecaps. Y'know, never hurts to go that extra mile, especially when you're dealing with the stupidly rich and powerful, like...pretty much everyone that could ever actually become dumb enough to try and strike at an experienced killer for hire.
I will admit, I've never actually had someone come after me, least not anyone that didn't already know me. The old gang tried that shit until they found out that the reason I wasn't dead was because I'd gone from scrappy, mouthy, bitch to trained murder machine, and my Dad tried to fight me once in a drunken stupor. That's not the reason he's in a coma, but he did walk away with a couple shattered ribs. Anyway, I guess it might seem a little paranoid that I've been taking all these precautions for something that might not actually happen, but...I've seen how these corporations work. I've seen how the empires act when they don't get what they want, and it's goddamned frightening. You wouldn't think that these slow, lumbering behemoths of bureaucracy and paperwork could actually get a damn thing done, but you take something they want or had and suddenly they're sending out jackbooted thugs in force and hiring mercs to back them up. The only reason the Caldari haven't tried to off Kaz (once he got out of CCP-enforced space anyway) is because they're too scared to really tussle with the capsuleers out in unregulated space. Plus, they're not about to send their armies out just to off a single dude. I think. The Amarr thought tussling with the Jove was somehow a good idea, so I wouldn't discount any dumb notion on the part of these assholes, whether they're Gallente, Caldari, or whomever.
Alright. It's way past time for me to head to sleep. Gotta get some more sleep before another day of bullets whizzing past and occasionally into my head. We'll talk more later.
Author: Rinas Rylos
Rank: C.E.O.
Corporation: Rinas' Raiders
Date: 117.02.25
Mood: Introspective
Weather: None. I live in space. Dur.
Weather in the battles today wasn't actually that great. It's hardly fun being shot at in the best of conditions, but when a veritable sandstorm is raining down on you like the asswipe of an angry deity? No fucking thank you. Normally we don't fight while weather is hitting us like this; Fucks with the electronics, makes it harder to identify FoF (Friend or Foe) signals, and there's the small, but not zero chance that we'll land a drop pod into the side of a refinery or whatever the fuck we're fighting over, ruining the whole thing and pretty much rendering the entire contract invalid. Granted, the fact that it'll change hands in about a week renders the whole thing a massive waste anyway, but, details. The entire contract was...well, imagine a normal one, but with visibility shortened to about ten feet in front of you. Yeah. I dunno how many shotguns littered the ground after that crap, but it's fair to say there's a factory out that's going into overtime to make up for all the ones we wasted.
So I thought I'd give a follow up on some more folks I didn't get to last time. Mostly because I'm writing these just before it's time for bed, usually, and sleepiness tends to claim me when I'm right in the middle of writing, and if I just keep doing that then I'll have a bunch of half-written entries and not actually complete any of them, so sometimes they've gotta be a little on the short side. Anyway! Chime. Do you remember Chime, diary? Equal parts cheerful and screwed up? Had a ridiculous fondness for pink? Yeah, she's become a fucking monster now. Still just as cheerful and sweet, and hardly a day goes by that I don't get an invitation to visit for food or try on some dress she found that she thought I'd like or something like that, but when she's on the battlefield, it's like she's another person entirely; By which I mean she turns into a beast fueled on the blood and fear of her enemies. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally happy to have (mostly) helped her work past her issues, especially since they were pretty similar to mine, but more than once I've been all too glad that she and I have been on the same side of a contract. You wouldn't think a single soldier with a crappy stealth module and a nova knife could inspire terror in hardened mercenaries, but...well, until I saw her go to work, I didn't know the human body had that much blood in it, so it was...educational, if nothing else.
I guess that leaves my family. Proper family, I mean, not that sack of shit sperm donor. They're all doing fairly well, or as well as they can be when I'm spending an obscene amount of money to keep them away from prying eyes. All that stuff about me disappearing from the records? A lot cheaper to do it to civilians, oddly enough. I guess the lack of killing ability means they're not exactly high up on the priority list, though you do have to shell out extra to make sure nobody gets curious about why precisely these random ass civvies need to go off the grid. Still, I have to imagine that there's at least one school admin out there who is confused as hell about why these kids all have different names in the computer. Yeah, I didn't actually pull them out of their lives, they shouldn't have to deal with what I'm doing, but all the computer registries have their names replaced by...I dunno what, I didn't look that far, but the important thing is that no one should come looking for them. Also, I hired some old "friends" to keep watch around the house and if they see anyone that looks suspicious they break their kneecaps. Y'know, never hurts to go that extra mile, especially when you're dealing with the stupidly rich and powerful, like...pretty much everyone that could ever actually become dumb enough to try and strike at an experienced killer for hire.
I will admit, I've never actually had someone come after me, least not anyone that didn't already know me. The old gang tried that shit until they found out that the reason I wasn't dead was because I'd gone from scrappy, mouthy, bitch to trained murder machine, and my Dad tried to fight me once in a drunken stupor. That's not the reason he's in a coma, but he did walk away with a couple shattered ribs. Anyway, I guess it might seem a little paranoid that I've been taking all these precautions for something that might not actually happen, but...I've seen how these corporations work. I've seen how the empires act when they don't get what they want, and it's goddamned frightening. You wouldn't think that these slow, lumbering behemoths of bureaucracy and paperwork could actually get a damn thing done, but you take something they want or had and suddenly they're sending out jackbooted thugs in force and hiring mercs to back them up. The only reason the Caldari haven't tried to off Kaz (once he got out of CCP-enforced space anyway) is because they're too scared to really tussle with the capsuleers out in unregulated space. Plus, they're not about to send their armies out just to off a single dude. I think. The Amarr thought tussling with the Jove was somehow a good idea, so I wouldn't discount any dumb notion on the part of these assholes, whether they're Gallente, Caldari, or whomever.
Alright. It's way past time for me to head to sleep. Gotta get some more sleep before another day of bullets whizzing past and occasionally into my head. We'll talk more later.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Log 049 - A
Log 049
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: Doesn't matter, was on vacation.
-Date: 115.08.17
So between a smattering of contracts that left me in a sad division between enraged at myself, pissed off at my allies, and feeling more inferior than having to work for that bumblefuck gangster, along with all that shit from my dad still on my mind (which probably contributed to my pathetic performances on the battlefield) I decided to take a few days off. Nothing like some R&R to get me back in fighting shape, right? Well, as it turns out, I'm not exactly qualified to say that. I mean, when you've spent the better part of your life either working to keep people alive or working to murder other people or just working in general? It's hard to fill the hours. Like, really hard. Like, I vastly underestimated how much time you have to work with when you aren't actively working.
Seeking answers, I turned to my other merc friends, all two of them. As it turns out, they fill the void by pointlessly wasting their time with frivolous bullshit that allows them a momentary escape from reality, also known as gaming. I'll admit that I was a tad surprised when I received the same answer from both Chime and Kaz about how the hell they kept themselves sane on their days off, and got a surprisingly large number of game recommendations from the both of them. Apparently Kaz had been big on gaming before the whole merc thing, as he showed me a rather long list of digital titles he owned and beat that stretched back years, which did leave me wondering where exactly he'd found the time for all of them. Chime didn't have quite the pedigree in terms of quantity, but match after match against her siblings in virtual arenas had left her dangerously competent. More than that, though, is that they also helped keep her connected with her siblings, whom she'd been having trouble really dealing with after the operation along with strengthening the bond to the rest of her family as well. Outside of the ridiculous amount of equipment and amenities they bought for her, anyway. Why they keep doing this when she's swimming in ISK now is beyond me. Still, the irony of my two friends that kill for a living deciding to lay waste to virtual people in their spare time was not lost on me, nor was it when I decided to go ahead and join them for a bit.
That said, even with a near-limitless amount of cash and the entirety of four empire's worth of virtual entertainment at my fingertips, I couldn't stand to sit on my ass for an entire day, much less three, just laying around and playing games. I considered writing in here, but what the fuck would I write about? The only reason I started this is because the Doc made me, and I -do- enjoy it now, but I feel like I'd do you a disservice by filling you full of a bunch of bullshit about the more tedious bits of my life. Well, the more tedious bits of my life, though I suppose from an outside perspective it'd be interesting to get into the head of someone who kills for a living.
Anyway, gaming was fun for a while, but once my supply of Quafe ran out and I lost enough matches I decided to shelve it before I grew sick of the whole thing completely. There had been one idea floating through my head that I was resisting, but without anything else coming to me, I finally opted to go with something I had been putting off for ages.
I was going to hang out with Chime.
First off, let me state that it was not my original idea. But between one of her myriad calls to me, she had mentioned having a sort of "girls night in" with just the two of us over at her place doing all sorts of crap together. I can't recall the conversation exactly, but I think I was busy fine tuning a suit loadout and just a gave a grunt of approval or something. Needless to say, this had come back to bite me in the ass, though from the squeal she gave when I asked about it I had just about made her day, so at least one of us was excited about the whole thing. Once I mentioned that I had most of the next couple days off, she insisted on extending the ordeal into a day-long thing that involved, among other things: A manicure, pedicure, clothes shopping, book shopping (which threw me for a second, I'll admit, she did not strike me as the bookish type) and enough cosmetics to deck out a clown. I quite literally had to buy a small cabinet that's now installed in my bathroom just to fit all the shit we purchased, to say nothing of several new...colorful, additions to my wardrobe that will hopefully never see the light of day ever again. The night itself consisted of me watching her try on more outfits than I knew ever existed, along with watching some riveting films as "Fires over Luminaire," and "How to lose a Caldari Priest in Ten Days." Just real intellectual stuff, lemme tell ya.
Still, it could've been worse. We also chatted about suit fittings and I finally found someone who agreed with me that the Caldari suits seemed to be way too fucking snug, which I guess happens when they auction their manufacturing off to the lowest fucking bidder. She seems to think that the Amarrian ones are the coziest, but personally I stick with Gallente for good suits; Amarrian ones seem to reek of...something, I'm not sure what, and everything made by the Minmatar feels like it's held together by spit and prayers, even the shit they co-opted from others.
Anyway, I can't keep my eyes open, so I'm gonna go ahead and wrap this up for tonight. After my day with Chime I wound up hanging out with Kaz, but I'll save telling ya about that for when I can stay conscious.
-End Log
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: Doesn't matter, was on vacation.
-Date: 115.08.17
So between a smattering of contracts that left me in a sad division between enraged at myself, pissed off at my allies, and feeling more inferior than having to work for that bumblefuck gangster, along with all that shit from my dad still on my mind (which probably contributed to my pathetic performances on the battlefield) I decided to take a few days off. Nothing like some R&R to get me back in fighting shape, right? Well, as it turns out, I'm not exactly qualified to say that. I mean, when you've spent the better part of your life either working to keep people alive or working to murder other people or just working in general? It's hard to fill the hours. Like, really hard. Like, I vastly underestimated how much time you have to work with when you aren't actively working.
Seeking answers, I turned to my other merc friends, all two of them. As it turns out, they fill the void by pointlessly wasting their time with frivolous bullshit that allows them a momentary escape from reality, also known as gaming. I'll admit that I was a tad surprised when I received the same answer from both Chime and Kaz about how the hell they kept themselves sane on their days off, and got a surprisingly large number of game recommendations from the both of them. Apparently Kaz had been big on gaming before the whole merc thing, as he showed me a rather long list of digital titles he owned and beat that stretched back years, which did leave me wondering where exactly he'd found the time for all of them. Chime didn't have quite the pedigree in terms of quantity, but match after match against her siblings in virtual arenas had left her dangerously competent. More than that, though, is that they also helped keep her connected with her siblings, whom she'd been having trouble really dealing with after the operation along with strengthening the bond to the rest of her family as well. Outside of the ridiculous amount of equipment and amenities they bought for her, anyway. Why they keep doing this when she's swimming in ISK now is beyond me. Still, the irony of my two friends that kill for a living deciding to lay waste to virtual people in their spare time was not lost on me, nor was it when I decided to go ahead and join them for a bit.
That said, even with a near-limitless amount of cash and the entirety of four empire's worth of virtual entertainment at my fingertips, I couldn't stand to sit on my ass for an entire day, much less three, just laying around and playing games. I considered writing in here, but what the fuck would I write about? The only reason I started this is because the Doc made me, and I -do- enjoy it now, but I feel like I'd do you a disservice by filling you full of a bunch of bullshit about the more tedious bits of my life. Well, the more tedious bits of my life, though I suppose from an outside perspective it'd be interesting to get into the head of someone who kills for a living.
Anyway, gaming was fun for a while, but once my supply of Quafe ran out and I lost enough matches I decided to shelve it before I grew sick of the whole thing completely. There had been one idea floating through my head that I was resisting, but without anything else coming to me, I finally opted to go with something I had been putting off for ages.
I was going to hang out with Chime.
First off, let me state that it was not my original idea. But between one of her myriad calls to me, she had mentioned having a sort of "girls night in" with just the two of us over at her place doing all sorts of crap together. I can't recall the conversation exactly, but I think I was busy fine tuning a suit loadout and just a gave a grunt of approval or something. Needless to say, this had come back to bite me in the ass, though from the squeal she gave when I asked about it I had just about made her day, so at least one of us was excited about the whole thing. Once I mentioned that I had most of the next couple days off, she insisted on extending the ordeal into a day-long thing that involved, among other things: A manicure, pedicure, clothes shopping, book shopping (which threw me for a second, I'll admit, she did not strike me as the bookish type) and enough cosmetics to deck out a clown. I quite literally had to buy a small cabinet that's now installed in my bathroom just to fit all the shit we purchased, to say nothing of several new...colorful, additions to my wardrobe that will hopefully never see the light of day ever again. The night itself consisted of me watching her try on more outfits than I knew ever existed, along with watching some riveting films as "Fires over Luminaire," and "How to lose a Caldari Priest in Ten Days." Just real intellectual stuff, lemme tell ya.
Still, it could've been worse. We also chatted about suit fittings and I finally found someone who agreed with me that the Caldari suits seemed to be way too fucking snug, which I guess happens when they auction their manufacturing off to the lowest fucking bidder. She seems to think that the Amarrian ones are the coziest, but personally I stick with Gallente for good suits; Amarrian ones seem to reek of...something, I'm not sure what, and everything made by the Minmatar feels like it's held together by spit and prayers, even the shit they co-opted from others.
Anyway, I can't keep my eyes open, so I'm gonna go ahead and wrap this up for tonight. After my day with Chime I wound up hanging out with Kaz, but I'll save telling ya about that for when I can stay conscious.
-End Log
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Log 048
Log 048
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders (R.R.A.S.)
-Date: 115.08.14
So...guess who got to meet their bastard of a father yesterday? Yeah. Before I go into that, though? Cars. And support. Some things that need to be said about both.
Vehicles are...tricky. Can't live with 'em, can't seem to get them to drive over your anti-armor explosives. Not unless they're about to run you over, anyway. Admittedly, I've never been the greatest driver, so anything going faster than a tank tends to leave me internally screaming obscenities as I desperately try not to plow into either the environment. With this said, I generally don't spend too much on things with wheels, treads, or that can fly, outside of training to ensure I can use the guns mounted on them to a decent degree. I'll leave driving to the drivers, and I'll be the gal that throws down explosives and runs around with a goddamned swarm launcher to nail tanks in the back.
Speaking of shit people can't do, it's almost beginning to seem like the idea of support is somewhat disappearing amongst the masses at this point. Not sure if the major corps still have the brains to dedicate the occasional person to repairing armor and keeping everyone alive in their own private wars, but in public contracts? Forget about it. The whole sad affair isn't just when it comes to repair either; It's seriously been fucking disappointing how many war points I've managed to gain in my last few contracts with just the simple act of laying down a drop uplink, or hitting the battlefield with one of my load-outs that carries a nanite injector. These are not difficult items to utilize, people! A nanite field to replenish ammo or armor can take you so much further than just equipping yourself purely for battle! And with barely an increase to your suit's costs as well! It's fucking baffling how these people never seem to get it into their heads to lay down an uplink once in a while, or at least carry around a revival injector with them.
So I know I spent a decent part of my last log detailing why the empires were underestimating capsuleers and how they needed to get with the times, and how I shouldn't type cast them, understanding a pivotal notion necessary to adapt and survive in New Eden, blah blah blah. I know I said all that, but there was something about the idea of coming face to face with the son of a bitch that ran out on Mom and the rest of us that left me feeling a mixture of rage and emptiness, and I don't mean the pissy little kid rage either; This was the sort of anger that flows throughout the rest of you rather than just residing within your chest. The kind of anger that provides you with a purpose rather than merely leaving you swinging blindly at whatever comes into range. I spent almost the entirety of my fucking trip daydreaming about what I'd do to him, along with some idle wondering about how much I'd have to pay to get off for whatever I'd do to him. From customs to the ship to the shuttle to the restaurant where we decided to meet, all I could focus on was getting back at him for those long fucking years of trying to get by, left alone to keep my siblings alive while the son of a bitch went out and did whatever the fuck he wanted.
As I finally approached the cheap little place he'd decided we should meet at, I could feel my chest swell with each step, a combination of apprehension and uncertainty filling me like some kind of fucked up balloon until I finally entered the joint. It didn't take me long to spot him sitting alone in the corner, head down, like someone who was trying not to be noticeable and actually having it backfire because of it. As I began to walk over to his table, it felt as though the closer I got, the more and more aware of myself I became. From the looseness of my civilian clothes, to the heaviness of my hands and feet, and just when had my mouth turned dry? By the time I finally sat down opposite of him, I felt more aware of my body than I had in years, and despite every brain cell I had telling me that now was the time to unleash myself on the drunken bastard...I couldn't.
As much as I wanted to unleash every ounce of hatred I had for the prick, as much as I wanted to scream at him until my vocal cords snapped, I just couldn't. I looked him over as he gave me a what presumably would've been toothy smile if he'd still had all of his, and I realized that the man I'd spent years turning into a symbol of everything wrong with my life was just that; Another man. One that had screwed my family over badly, yes, but his appearance said that karma had fucked him over harder than I ever could have. From the patchwork coat covering what looked like grim-covered shirt, to the ratty beanie covering his head, to the pair of destroyed jeans that looked as though rabid animals had eaten off half of them. More than anything his clothes could say, though, was his eyes; There was...I'm not sure how to describe it. A dead look? A lack of life? I'm not sure, but I hadn't seen eyes like that since Chime had decided to come back to the world of the living. They were the mark of someone who felt dead inside, and with them it was pretty clear that what he'd had so long ago has abandoned him as surely as he'd left us.
Not long after I sat down, he began to prattle on about how big I'd grown, how much he'd missed me, and all sorts of other lies. He prattled on for a while, but the whole realization that life had dealt him what was most likely even a shittier hand than mine had left me feeling confused inside, and I don't think I did much more other than give a nod as I tuned him out. I knew that everything I'd planned on the way there was pointless; What would screaming at him accomplish more than what he'd been through? No. I...as much as I still wanted to, I couldn't. God fucking help me, I know he deserved it, but I couldn't let myself sink low enough to scream at a guy that looked essentially homeless, much less one that was kind of the reason I existed.
So what did I do? Mostly I just sat and waited out his spiel, though I did order a drink halfway through. If nothing else, I have to give him credit for preparation, given he took up roughly a good ten minutes trying to flatter me before spending another ten going through a bunch of pleas and begging and other bullshit. Honestly, I ignored most of it, instead mentally pitting my current situation against his and realizing how much I'd lucked out. If I hadn't been chosen for whatever reason to become a merc, then I'd either be in prison or just flat out dead. But I had been picked, and while life hadn't miraculously gotten better afterwards, it was...improved, for lack of a better word. If nothing else, I didn't have to worry about providing for the kids or my brother, and I was personally rendered fucking immortal. I don't remember the state he was in the last time I saw him, but I'd have bet that shit had been on a bit of a downward spiral for him too, the only difference being that there hadn't been a second chance. No redemption for him, as opposed to my sorry hide that arguably lucked out with the whole mercenary deal. So I suppose if I was lucky enough to get a second chance, shouldn't I provide one? Or did he deserve to suffer even more after the hell he'd put me and mine through? That...that was a hard choice for me, for a bit, but I decided to at least offer him a chance. Nothing quite as fancy as killing for cash while living in a personal apartment out in space, but I could at least see if he was worth the effort for another chance.
Thankfully, he decided to pause for breath not too long after I had come up with a plan, and seized the opportunity to explain it to him. As it so happens, I occasionally check on the occasional cost of living on this planet, to ensure what I send to the kids is enough so that Rilan doesn't have to grab a job of his own. I told the old bastard I'd set up a separate bank account and send him roughly half of what I send the kids, on the conditions that he quits drinking, doesn't gamble or get involved with the gangs, and we'd talk every other week so I could make sure that he was keeping up his end of the bargain. A spark of anger flashed across his face for a second, but it petered out pretty quickly and he agreed to the terms. I guess he just needed the money that badly, though he might've been a bit more pissed if I told I'd also be keeping tabs on the bank account to ensure he wasn't cheating, but I'd save that for a conversation for another time. I also forbade contact with Rilan and the others until he'd straightened out, but he didn't seem too peeved about that.
While I was willing to give the bastard a second chance, I still didn't want to deal with him anymore than I had to, so with everything hashed out, I stood up to leave. To my complete and utter shock, the bastard hugged me. Or tried to hug me, anyway. Given that I was now a good foot taller than him, his arms made their way halfway around my neck while his head sat next to my shoulder blade. The familiar urge to throttle flared up as I realized he had mistaken my pity for affection, but it wasn't until he tried to hug me tighter that I finally pried the bastard off. I told him I'd send the details of the new account to him in a couple days, and...that was that. I left before I could see his reaction, before I did something I had to spend any more time in his presence.
As I got back to the shuttle, I gave Rilan a quick call and told him he wouldn't have to worry about the son of a bitch anymore. I think he assumed I dealt with him as someone in my trade usually would, 'cause he was silent afterwards until I clarified that I'd forbidden the bastard from contacting him and the kids before I felt he was responsible enough. I think he was relieved at that, but a crash in the background (which I later learned was the twins causing a ruckus) forced him to end the call a bit sooner than I'd have liked. Poor kid. He's gotten a lot better at dealing with the pair since I left, but I still think they occasionally run him ragged when they've got the urge to do so.
At any rate, I opened up the account not too long after I got back to the station. Given that I'm actually aboard a financial station, it's not too hard to find someone whose willing to put a few questionably legal surveillance measure on a new balance, much less ensure that no one else finds out about it. The whole thing was finished up by the time I went to bed yesterday, but I'm still going to wait until tomorrow to give it to him, if only so he can sweat it out a little.
Nothing says I can't have -some- payback against him, after all.
-End Log
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders (R.R.A.S.)
-Date: 115.08.14
So...guess who got to meet their bastard of a father yesterday? Yeah. Before I go into that, though? Cars. And support. Some things that need to be said about both.
Vehicles are...tricky. Can't live with 'em, can't seem to get them to drive over your anti-armor explosives. Not unless they're about to run you over, anyway. Admittedly, I've never been the greatest driver, so anything going faster than a tank tends to leave me internally screaming obscenities as I desperately try not to plow into either the environment. With this said, I generally don't spend too much on things with wheels, treads, or that can fly, outside of training to ensure I can use the guns mounted on them to a decent degree. I'll leave driving to the drivers, and I'll be the gal that throws down explosives and runs around with a goddamned swarm launcher to nail tanks in the back.
Speaking of shit people can't do, it's almost beginning to seem like the idea of support is somewhat disappearing amongst the masses at this point. Not sure if the major corps still have the brains to dedicate the occasional person to repairing armor and keeping everyone alive in their own private wars, but in public contracts? Forget about it. The whole sad affair isn't just when it comes to repair either; It's seriously been fucking disappointing how many war points I've managed to gain in my last few contracts with just the simple act of laying down a drop uplink, or hitting the battlefield with one of my load-outs that carries a nanite injector. These are not difficult items to utilize, people! A nanite field to replenish ammo or armor can take you so much further than just equipping yourself purely for battle! And with barely an increase to your suit's costs as well! It's fucking baffling how these people never seem to get it into their heads to lay down an uplink once in a while, or at least carry around a revival injector with them.
So I know I spent a decent part of my last log detailing why the empires were underestimating capsuleers and how they needed to get with the times, and how I shouldn't type cast them, understanding a pivotal notion necessary to adapt and survive in New Eden, blah blah blah. I know I said all that, but there was something about the idea of coming face to face with the son of a bitch that ran out on Mom and the rest of us that left me feeling a mixture of rage and emptiness, and I don't mean the pissy little kid rage either; This was the sort of anger that flows throughout the rest of you rather than just residing within your chest. The kind of anger that provides you with a purpose rather than merely leaving you swinging blindly at whatever comes into range. I spent almost the entirety of my fucking trip daydreaming about what I'd do to him, along with some idle wondering about how much I'd have to pay to get off for whatever I'd do to him. From customs to the ship to the shuttle to the restaurant where we decided to meet, all I could focus on was getting back at him for those long fucking years of trying to get by, left alone to keep my siblings alive while the son of a bitch went out and did whatever the fuck he wanted.
As I finally approached the cheap little place he'd decided we should meet at, I could feel my chest swell with each step, a combination of apprehension and uncertainty filling me like some kind of fucked up balloon until I finally entered the joint. It didn't take me long to spot him sitting alone in the corner, head down, like someone who was trying not to be noticeable and actually having it backfire because of it. As I began to walk over to his table, it felt as though the closer I got, the more and more aware of myself I became. From the looseness of my civilian clothes, to the heaviness of my hands and feet, and just when had my mouth turned dry? By the time I finally sat down opposite of him, I felt more aware of my body than I had in years, and despite every brain cell I had telling me that now was the time to unleash myself on the drunken bastard...I couldn't.
As much as I wanted to unleash every ounce of hatred I had for the prick, as much as I wanted to scream at him until my vocal cords snapped, I just couldn't. I looked him over as he gave me a what presumably would've been toothy smile if he'd still had all of his, and I realized that the man I'd spent years turning into a symbol of everything wrong with my life was just that; Another man. One that had screwed my family over badly, yes, but his appearance said that karma had fucked him over harder than I ever could have. From the patchwork coat covering what looked like grim-covered shirt, to the ratty beanie covering his head, to the pair of destroyed jeans that looked as though rabid animals had eaten off half of them. More than anything his clothes could say, though, was his eyes; There was...I'm not sure how to describe it. A dead look? A lack of life? I'm not sure, but I hadn't seen eyes like that since Chime had decided to come back to the world of the living. They were the mark of someone who felt dead inside, and with them it was pretty clear that what he'd had so long ago has abandoned him as surely as he'd left us.
Not long after I sat down, he began to prattle on about how big I'd grown, how much he'd missed me, and all sorts of other lies. He prattled on for a while, but the whole realization that life had dealt him what was most likely even a shittier hand than mine had left me feeling confused inside, and I don't think I did much more other than give a nod as I tuned him out. I knew that everything I'd planned on the way there was pointless; What would screaming at him accomplish more than what he'd been through? No. I...as much as I still wanted to, I couldn't. God fucking help me, I know he deserved it, but I couldn't let myself sink low enough to scream at a guy that looked essentially homeless, much less one that was kind of the reason I existed.
So what did I do? Mostly I just sat and waited out his spiel, though I did order a drink halfway through. If nothing else, I have to give him credit for preparation, given he took up roughly a good ten minutes trying to flatter me before spending another ten going through a bunch of pleas and begging and other bullshit. Honestly, I ignored most of it, instead mentally pitting my current situation against his and realizing how much I'd lucked out. If I hadn't been chosen for whatever reason to become a merc, then I'd either be in prison or just flat out dead. But I had been picked, and while life hadn't miraculously gotten better afterwards, it was...improved, for lack of a better word. If nothing else, I didn't have to worry about providing for the kids or my brother, and I was personally rendered fucking immortal. I don't remember the state he was in the last time I saw him, but I'd have bet that shit had been on a bit of a downward spiral for him too, the only difference being that there hadn't been a second chance. No redemption for him, as opposed to my sorry hide that arguably lucked out with the whole mercenary deal. So I suppose if I was lucky enough to get a second chance, shouldn't I provide one? Or did he deserve to suffer even more after the hell he'd put me and mine through? That...that was a hard choice for me, for a bit, but I decided to at least offer him a chance. Nothing quite as fancy as killing for cash while living in a personal apartment out in space, but I could at least see if he was worth the effort for another chance.
Thankfully, he decided to pause for breath not too long after I had come up with a plan, and seized the opportunity to explain it to him. As it so happens, I occasionally check on the occasional cost of living on this planet, to ensure what I send to the kids is enough so that Rilan doesn't have to grab a job of his own. I told the old bastard I'd set up a separate bank account and send him roughly half of what I send the kids, on the conditions that he quits drinking, doesn't gamble or get involved with the gangs, and we'd talk every other week so I could make sure that he was keeping up his end of the bargain. A spark of anger flashed across his face for a second, but it petered out pretty quickly and he agreed to the terms. I guess he just needed the money that badly, though he might've been a bit more pissed if I told I'd also be keeping tabs on the bank account to ensure he wasn't cheating, but I'd save that for a conversation for another time. I also forbade contact with Rilan and the others until he'd straightened out, but he didn't seem too peeved about that.
While I was willing to give the bastard a second chance, I still didn't want to deal with him anymore than I had to, so with everything hashed out, I stood up to leave. To my complete and utter shock, the bastard hugged me. Or tried to hug me, anyway. Given that I was now a good foot taller than him, his arms made their way halfway around my neck while his head sat next to my shoulder blade. The familiar urge to throttle flared up as I realized he had mistaken my pity for affection, but it wasn't until he tried to hug me tighter that I finally pried the bastard off. I told him I'd send the details of the new account to him in a couple days, and...that was that. I left before I could see his reaction, before I did something I had to spend any more time in his presence.
As I got back to the shuttle, I gave Rilan a quick call and told him he wouldn't have to worry about the son of a bitch anymore. I think he assumed I dealt with him as someone in my trade usually would, 'cause he was silent afterwards until I clarified that I'd forbidden the bastard from contacting him and the kids before I felt he was responsible enough. I think he was relieved at that, but a crash in the background (which I later learned was the twins causing a ruckus) forced him to end the call a bit sooner than I'd have liked. Poor kid. He's gotten a lot better at dealing with the pair since I left, but I still think they occasionally run him ragged when they've got the urge to do so.
At any rate, I opened up the account not too long after I got back to the station. Given that I'm actually aboard a financial station, it's not too hard to find someone whose willing to put a few questionably legal surveillance measure on a new balance, much less ensure that no one else finds out about it. The whole thing was finished up by the time I went to bed yesterday, but I'm still going to wait until tomorrow to give it to him, if only so he can sweat it out a little.
Nothing says I can't have -some- payback against him, after all.
-End Log
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Log 046
Log 046
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders (R.R.A.S.)
-Date: 115.08.010
There's a certain amount of irritation that comes from thinking about shit too much, similar to what I've recently experienced as I realized that mercenaries currently have it pretty good when it comes to the weapon and armor market. The big-name businesses like Ishukone and its ilk that might not exactly be able to decide just how powerful they want their shit to be, but if nothing else their price is....mostly reasonable. I'm not shelling out thousands in ISK for what could ostensibly be crap without at least knowing the specs for the gear. Thing is, the word on the web is that the capsuleers are aiming to try and muscle in on the market at some point, which, well...call me skeptical, but having the flying space bastards decide just how much a crate of mass drivers costs is not something I can say I'm looking forward to. Maybe it's my prejudice against insatiable flying deathmongers talking, but seeing what they do to themselves up there (along with the occasional incursion down here in the form of an OB) doesn't exactly endear me to their involvement on our market.
Speaking of shit I don't look forward to, I got a call from my family today. Sort of. I've never really explained my family, so I guess now is better than never. Three younger siblings along with myself make up the bulk of the Rylos family, annnnd that's about it. My mother died giving birth to the twin girls, Ryla and Riko, so it's pretty much been on me to keep us all from falling apart. If my grandparents are still alive, no one has decided to tell me about 'em, and they sure as hell haven't made themselves known either. My father...well, to put it bluntly, he's a drunken jackass that skipped town once my brother, Rilan (sensing a theme here?) was born. Rinas, Rilan, Ryla, and Riko Rylos. Try saying that ten times fast. While being shot at.
Anyway, the whole "being a dickhead that left his family bit" meant I didn't encounter the old prick until I was already in my teens, a couple years after the twins were born. Claimed all kinds of bullshit about having had a change of heart, gotten his head together, straight and narrow, etc. 'Course, once he saw that the Rylos family was down one mother and up two more kids he promptly took off again. Asshole.
It hasn't been easy keeping everyone alive and sane, I'll admit. The government helped out a little with food and other shit, and I took any job that kept my boots on the ground, or at least in orbit, in order to help feed, clothe, and otherwise keep the four of us alive. Ril wanted to help sometimes, but I told him that if he ever ditched school for work like I did that I'd beat the hell out of him. Made good on that a couple times, too. I love him to death, but...more than anyone else, he saw how shitty looking out for everyone was for me, and I think that guilted him more than he should let it, which is why he tried pulling shit like this.
At any rate, I'm getting off-track. Given that the three family members I've got that I like are happy, healthy, and reasonably safe, communication between us is usually brief and one-sided. It isn't that they don't like what I'm doing, so much as Rilan is the only one that knows and we've decided to keep it that way. I'm not totally sure what age makes you ready to learn your older sister murders people for a living, but we're both pretty confident it isn't 9. So for now, the twins just think I'm off doing...actually, I don't know what Ril told them, just that I'm alive and wish them the best, which is completely true. That said, when I get a call from under the Rylos name, who should it be but my dickhead father. Again. Apparently he'd fed Ril some bullshit sob story about wanting to apologize to me (again) over abandoning us (again) and that he me on the line he was wondering if I could spot him a bit of cash (new).
Now, I'm not the most easily amused gal in New Eden. Even before I became a mercenary I still had a pretty dark sense of humor. But the audacity of going back and asking your child for money, after years pretending her and her siblings didn't exist? I laughed, and I laughed hard. There was a cold, cruel tone to it that hadn't been there before, but somehow made it all the more wonderful to hear. I'd thrown my head back when I did it, but I still managed to catch the light leaving his face as his hope died. He wanted me to help him, after all this.
And yet, I didn't say no. Not immediately, at least. The sheer audacity of a such a request piqued my curiosity, so I told him I'd go groundside a couple a days and hear his reasoning for precisely why I should give some of my hard-earned funds to someone who'd fucked me over when I was five. Before he spoke up, I also added that if he wanted to explain -now-, my answer would've been no, one way or another. The mixture of reserved resentment and urgency on his face was delicious, but eventually he conceded, and we hashed out the details for my little planet excursion before I cut the call. I probably should've just told him no, but I'm due for a quick vacation and it'll be nice to see my actual family again as well. Ah well.
-End Log
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders (R.R.A.S.)
-Date: 115.08.010
There's a certain amount of irritation that comes from thinking about shit too much, similar to what I've recently experienced as I realized that mercenaries currently have it pretty good when it comes to the weapon and armor market. The big-name businesses like Ishukone and its ilk that might not exactly be able to decide just how powerful they want their shit to be, but if nothing else their price is....mostly reasonable. I'm not shelling out thousands in ISK for what could ostensibly be crap without at least knowing the specs for the gear. Thing is, the word on the web is that the capsuleers are aiming to try and muscle in on the market at some point, which, well...call me skeptical, but having the flying space bastards decide just how much a crate of mass drivers costs is not something I can say I'm looking forward to. Maybe it's my prejudice against insatiable flying deathmongers talking, but seeing what they do to themselves up there (along with the occasional incursion down here in the form of an OB) doesn't exactly endear me to their involvement on our market.
Speaking of shit I don't look forward to, I got a call from my family today. Sort of. I've never really explained my family, so I guess now is better than never. Three younger siblings along with myself make up the bulk of the Rylos family, annnnd that's about it. My mother died giving birth to the twin girls, Ryla and Riko, so it's pretty much been on me to keep us all from falling apart. If my grandparents are still alive, no one has decided to tell me about 'em, and they sure as hell haven't made themselves known either. My father...well, to put it bluntly, he's a drunken jackass that skipped town once my brother, Rilan (sensing a theme here?) was born. Rinas, Rilan, Ryla, and Riko Rylos. Try saying that ten times fast. While being shot at.
Anyway, the whole "being a dickhead that left his family bit" meant I didn't encounter the old prick until I was already in my teens, a couple years after the twins were born. Claimed all kinds of bullshit about having had a change of heart, gotten his head together, straight and narrow, etc. 'Course, once he saw that the Rylos family was down one mother and up two more kids he promptly took off again. Asshole.
It hasn't been easy keeping everyone alive and sane, I'll admit. The government helped out a little with food and other shit, and I took any job that kept my boots on the ground, or at least in orbit, in order to help feed, clothe, and otherwise keep the four of us alive. Ril wanted to help sometimes, but I told him that if he ever ditched school for work like I did that I'd beat the hell out of him. Made good on that a couple times, too. I love him to death, but...more than anyone else, he saw how shitty looking out for everyone was for me, and I think that guilted him more than he should let it, which is why he tried pulling shit like this.
At any rate, I'm getting off-track. Given that the three family members I've got that I like are happy, healthy, and reasonably safe, communication between us is usually brief and one-sided. It isn't that they don't like what I'm doing, so much as Rilan is the only one that knows and we've decided to keep it that way. I'm not totally sure what age makes you ready to learn your older sister murders people for a living, but we're both pretty confident it isn't 9. So for now, the twins just think I'm off doing...actually, I don't know what Ril told them, just that I'm alive and wish them the best, which is completely true. That said, when I get a call from under the Rylos name, who should it be but my dickhead father. Again. Apparently he'd fed Ril some bullshit sob story about wanting to apologize to me (again) over abandoning us (again) and that he me on the line he was wondering if I could spot him a bit of cash (new).
Now, I'm not the most easily amused gal in New Eden. Even before I became a mercenary I still had a pretty dark sense of humor. But the audacity of going back and asking your child for money, after years pretending her and her siblings didn't exist? I laughed, and I laughed hard. There was a cold, cruel tone to it that hadn't been there before, but somehow made it all the more wonderful to hear. I'd thrown my head back when I did it, but I still managed to catch the light leaving his face as his hope died. He wanted me to help him, after all this.
And yet, I didn't say no. Not immediately, at least. The sheer audacity of a such a request piqued my curiosity, so I told him I'd go groundside a couple a days and hear his reasoning for precisely why I should give some of my hard-earned funds to someone who'd fucked me over when I was five. Before he spoke up, I also added that if he wanted to explain -now-, my answer would've been no, one way or another. The mixture of reserved resentment and urgency on his face was delicious, but eventually he conceded, and we hashed out the details for my little planet excursion before I cut the call. I probably should've just told him no, but I'm due for a quick vacation and it'll be nice to see my actual family again as well. Ah well.
-End Log
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