Log 05X-5
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders
-Date: 117.03.10
Hey Diary. Sorry about the delay, turns out that moving large amounts of funds and subtly selling enough armaments and equipment to outfit a platoon takes a bit of work. And by a bit of work, I mean PAPERWORK. Not literally, all the forms are electronic (thank whatever deity the Amarr worship for that) but there's still a fuckton of it, and it's like all the fun of a long, drawn-out sniper battle without any imminent threat of death or the possibility of nailing that son of a bitch straight through their thick head. I could just plop all my stuff down on the market, but there's no way in hell that wouldn't raise some red flags somewhere. I guess I could sell it to the flying space bastards, but most of them have no use for it, and the few that do are pretty well taken care of already. So instead I've had to plan out a very, very rough timeline for selling off my crap. I can't pawn it all too quick, otherwise that'll get the watchdogs on my ass, but anything I don't sell in the next couple months is gonna be left in storage for scavengers to nab or get seized by the Gallentean military when they figure out what I'm doing, and I'd rather at least TRY to make a buck off of it, rather than leaving it to those assholes. Not to mention that I've still got contracts to do, so I've gotta walk the fine line between selling this crap off annnnnd making sure I'm at least halfway decently decked out there on the battlefield. Between keeping the feds off my ass, slowly saturating the market with my gear, and still using some of it, I...it's a mess. I'm a mercenary, dammit, not a fucking number cruncher! But I'll deal with it. Kinda have to, right? The end is in sight.
Speaking of which, it struck me today that my time on this station was numbered. I'd never really thought about until now, but the familiar winding corridors and friendly, if unknown faces began to make this place feel like home right under my nose. Maybe that's part of what helped me ease into...all of this? I dunno. But soon it won't matter. All these folks...they'll just see that weird woman pack her shit up and leave, and...well, what happens after that, is..is...At any rate, it's gonna suck not getting to just idly stroll through these corridors anymore, heading to the fitness center after picking up food, or hauling ass to the transport so I can catch another shuttle to wherever I felt like heading. But it won't be all bad, it's not like I'm unused to walking through unfamiliar space stations, or making tracks on planets I'd never have set foot on otherwise. Unfamiliar isn't bad, it's just that...well, familiarity breeds comfort, which I'd kinda sunk into without realizing it. Still, the clock is ticking down, and now I find myself lingering at windows and outside of doors, wondering how much time I've actually got left on here. It's not like me to get all wishy washy about this, but I can't help it sometimes, especially when I think back to how many times I've walked down these damn halls.
Speaking of familiarity, I actually went down to a firing range for the first time with some of the guns I use out on the field. It felt...kinda weird holding them in my own hands, instead of just one of those cookie-cutter clones we always get transferred into for the contracts. I haven't actually had to fire a gun in a body that was molded to look like mine since my original training, but it seemed to come back to me easily enough. Even breathing, squeeze the trigger instead of pulling it, don't aim upwards when you're not shooting, etc. It returned without too much effort, which is kinda weird since these muscles shouldn't technically have the memory of it, but whatever. Also got some stares at the range, since I was clearly handling military weaponry at a civilian range, but no one was dumb enough to actually say anything, though I was in a suit the whole time, so...that probably contributed to a few of the stares too. I contemplated asking if I could use a local police precinct's range, but I rather doubt that would've turned out well, police being, well, police and not exactly happy with civilians walking around with guns that make theirs look like outdated pieces of shit. Plus, the suit adds like a half-foot to my height, so I was actually taller than most of the people there, though I'm not sure they could tell whether I was a guy or girl in the first place. I mean, I know how to distinguish between them, but I've also spent enough time in and around the stupid suits to know the difference. Anyway, it felt good to get some practice in, and I figure I might as well start now, given that I can't be sure what'll be happening a couple months from now.
I think I'll take next week off. Get some time in with the friends and family before the whole possibly never seeing them again thing kicks in. For now, however, it's time for some sleep.
Showing posts with label guns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guns. Show all posts
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Log 049 - B
Log 049 - B
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: Awesome
-Corp: Vacatiooooonnnnn.
Right. So, while dealing with Chime for a day was tiring but interesting, Kaz is...something else entirely. Still just as tiresome, mind you, but in a vastly different direction.
For starters, he's Caldari. While my Gallentean education taught me that this makes him inferior scum that I should immediately stab in the jugular the second I see him, I managed to resist the impulse long enough to learn that he's not inferior because of his heritage, but because his k/d ratio is better than mine, and clearly he's been gaming the system somehow. Bastard. But yeah, heading off to Caldari space was...tricky, given that I was essentially a Gallentean mercenary seeking access to space owned by the empire my former one is at war with, but liberal application of ISK lubed up the process fairly well, and it wasn't long before I managed catch a transport to his station. After a bear hug that I'm fairly sure could've killed an actual bear, we stopped off at his place for him to change clothes (he'd been working out, which explained both his colossal physique and rank stench) before heading out onto the town.
Now, I imagine it depends on where you live, but Gallente society is pretty fucking focused on materialism. Or at least I thought we were, until we traveled into a commercial area on this station and I pretty rapidly realized that we had a looot to learn about being a bunch of consumerist whores. I was bombarded with more neon advertisements than in a red light district, and I'm only half-sure I didn't suffer some kind of seizure from their blinking in tandem. I actually wound up being mildly grateful that most of the areas I fight in are nowhere near like this, if only because the simple act of locating an enemy would be damn near impossible in such a shitshow.
But I'm getting off track. Whereas Chime wanted to go shopping for most of the day, Kaz wanted to go...shopping. Not for makeup and girly clothes, though that arguably would've been even more interesting than doing so with Chime, but mainly for new weapon accessories and guns. Unlike most of the mercs I'd dealt with, Kaz had been interested in weaponry and the military before being implanted, due in no small part to a capsuleer relative he kept in contact with. Ara..Ama..Amakato, I think his name was? Ara...something, maybe. Anyway, he'd maintained an interesting in warfare long before getting an implant, but had been smart enough to realize that enlisting would've likely meant pissing away the one life he'd had. Instead, he had opted to become some of a military enthusiast, learning about tactics and weaponry from across the four empires as well as indulging in a crazy amount of war-themed vids and games.
Had I heard all this coming out of the mouth of anyone else, I'd have likely called them fucking crazypants. It sounded halfway similar to the survivalist bullshit you hear from the nuts on Gallentean vids that claim the Jove are coming to exterminate us all but it's okay because they're in a bunker with a bunch of water and protein packs and other food! But, given that Kaz tended to lug around HMGs and forge guns for my own benefit and actually had a similar understanding of placement and tactics to my own, I wasn't about to say anything; As far as my own perspective was concerned, he was simply a hobbyist that managed to take his leisure activity to the next level, along with getting paid for it. So..good for him. Bad for everyone he points one of those giant fuckers at, but good for him.
At any rate, rather than looking at eyeliner and dresses for three hours, I instead got to learn about scopes, trigger guards, proper gun cleaning and handling, and all sorts of other shit we don't actually have to consider out on the field. Aside from technique, most of what I was taught was more along the lines of proper handling and reloading, though the latter is easily the most idiot proof bit of the guns they sell us anyway. It wasn't the most enthralling lecture I've ever been given, but it was still pretty interesting to learn about the civilian models of some of the shit we use out in the field, along with the actual mechanics of how they work. Not that I'll ever likely need to learn how to eject the chamber of a duoville hunting rifle, but I suppose it's not like I've got anything more interesting to learn about, and Kaz was way too enthused in his explanations for me to turn him down.
Still, even he could only go on for so many hours about his favorite guns, and that's when we went out for a bit of food and drinking. I'm not normally too big on booze, but every once in a while I'll make an exception, and as it turns out, when Kaz takes you drinking you make a big fucking exception. Five hours and an extreme amount of liquor later, the two of us had gotten fucking plastered. I'm fairly sure that the amount of synthetic Caldari booze I imbibed would've had me branded a smuggler if I'd tried to leave their space, to say nothing of how much of that putrid shit Kaz managed to chug down, but thankfully it wasn't so much that I wasn't able to stumble my sorry hide back to Kaz's place while also providing a shoulder for his giant ass to lean on. Being the sophisticated lady that I am, I somehow got his ass back to his bed before crashing on his couch, knocking over a glass figure and I think something else in the process.
The morning after was a mixture of bizarre and unpleasant. Despite downing enough beer to kill a regular man roughly two times over, the experience gained from building up a tolerance for the stuff left the effects of a hangover on a relatively low scale, leaving him to wake me up with a smile, more or less. I was not quite so lucky, and just thinking back to that godawful morning leaves me with a mild headache. A quick shower and some coffee left me feeling slightly better, but by the time I departed I was still a fairly large wreck. Thankfully, the rides home were pretty quiet, and I was allowed to pass out once again upon getting back home.
So that was my vacation! Shitloads of makeup, dresses, lectures about gun handling, and a hang over large enough that I could probably wield it out on the field. Not too bad for someone with only a couple friends, though I have been left wondering what I'd go do with people if someone actually tried to visit me. Get them some coffee, probably.
-End Log
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: Awesome
-Corp: Vacatiooooonnnnn.
Right. So, while dealing with Chime for a day was tiring but interesting, Kaz is...something else entirely. Still just as tiresome, mind you, but in a vastly different direction.
For starters, he's Caldari. While my Gallentean education taught me that this makes him inferior scum that I should immediately stab in the jugular the second I see him, I managed to resist the impulse long enough to learn that he's not inferior because of his heritage, but because his k/d ratio is better than mine, and clearly he's been gaming the system somehow. Bastard. But yeah, heading off to Caldari space was...tricky, given that I was essentially a Gallentean mercenary seeking access to space owned by the empire my former one is at war with, but liberal application of ISK lubed up the process fairly well, and it wasn't long before I managed catch a transport to his station. After a bear hug that I'm fairly sure could've killed an actual bear, we stopped off at his place for him to change clothes (he'd been working out, which explained both his colossal physique and rank stench) before heading out onto the town.
Now, I imagine it depends on where you live, but Gallente society is pretty fucking focused on materialism. Or at least I thought we were, until we traveled into a commercial area on this station and I pretty rapidly realized that we had a looot to learn about being a bunch of consumerist whores. I was bombarded with more neon advertisements than in a red light district, and I'm only half-sure I didn't suffer some kind of seizure from their blinking in tandem. I actually wound up being mildly grateful that most of the areas I fight in are nowhere near like this, if only because the simple act of locating an enemy would be damn near impossible in such a shitshow.
But I'm getting off track. Whereas Chime wanted to go shopping for most of the day, Kaz wanted to go...shopping. Not for makeup and girly clothes, though that arguably would've been even more interesting than doing so with Chime, but mainly for new weapon accessories and guns. Unlike most of the mercs I'd dealt with, Kaz had been interested in weaponry and the military before being implanted, due in no small part to a capsuleer relative he kept in contact with. Ara..Ama..Amakato, I think his name was? Ara...something, maybe. Anyway, he'd maintained an interesting in warfare long before getting an implant, but had been smart enough to realize that enlisting would've likely meant pissing away the one life he'd had. Instead, he had opted to become some of a military enthusiast, learning about tactics and weaponry from across the four empires as well as indulging in a crazy amount of war-themed vids and games.
Had I heard all this coming out of the mouth of anyone else, I'd have likely called them fucking crazypants. It sounded halfway similar to the survivalist bullshit you hear from the nuts on Gallentean vids that claim the Jove are coming to exterminate us all but it's okay because they're in a bunker with a bunch of water and protein packs and other food! But, given that Kaz tended to lug around HMGs and forge guns for my own benefit and actually had a similar understanding of placement and tactics to my own, I wasn't about to say anything; As far as my own perspective was concerned, he was simply a hobbyist that managed to take his leisure activity to the next level, along with getting paid for it. So..good for him. Bad for everyone he points one of those giant fuckers at, but good for him.
At any rate, rather than looking at eyeliner and dresses for three hours, I instead got to learn about scopes, trigger guards, proper gun cleaning and handling, and all sorts of other shit we don't actually have to consider out on the field. Aside from technique, most of what I was taught was more along the lines of proper handling and reloading, though the latter is easily the most idiot proof bit of the guns they sell us anyway. It wasn't the most enthralling lecture I've ever been given, but it was still pretty interesting to learn about the civilian models of some of the shit we use out in the field, along with the actual mechanics of how they work. Not that I'll ever likely need to learn how to eject the chamber of a duoville hunting rifle, but I suppose it's not like I've got anything more interesting to learn about, and Kaz was way too enthused in his explanations for me to turn him down.
Still, even he could only go on for so many hours about his favorite guns, and that's when we went out for a bit of food and drinking. I'm not normally too big on booze, but every once in a while I'll make an exception, and as it turns out, when Kaz takes you drinking you make a big fucking exception. Five hours and an extreme amount of liquor later, the two of us had gotten fucking plastered. I'm fairly sure that the amount of synthetic Caldari booze I imbibed would've had me branded a smuggler if I'd tried to leave their space, to say nothing of how much of that putrid shit Kaz managed to chug down, but thankfully it wasn't so much that I wasn't able to stumble my sorry hide back to Kaz's place while also providing a shoulder for his giant ass to lean on. Being the sophisticated lady that I am, I somehow got his ass back to his bed before crashing on his couch, knocking over a glass figure and I think something else in the process.
The morning after was a mixture of bizarre and unpleasant. Despite downing enough beer to kill a regular man roughly two times over, the experience gained from building up a tolerance for the stuff left the effects of a hangover on a relatively low scale, leaving him to wake me up with a smile, more or less. I was not quite so lucky, and just thinking back to that godawful morning leaves me with a mild headache. A quick shower and some coffee left me feeling slightly better, but by the time I departed I was still a fairly large wreck. Thankfully, the rides home were pretty quiet, and I was allowed to pass out once again upon getting back home.
So that was my vacation! Shitloads of makeup, dresses, lectures about gun handling, and a hang over large enough that I could probably wield it out on the field. Not too bad for someone with only a couple friends, though I have been left wondering what I'd go do with people if someone actually tried to visit me. Get them some coffee, probably.
-End Log
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
