Log 027

Log 027

-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders (R.R.A.S.)
-Date: 115.06.12

Right. Sorry about all the damn delays, diary. Shit has been rather hectic to say the least, what with all the restricted traffic since all the newly discovered crap has given every capsuleer within a 50 A.U. radius the biggest hard on of their lives. Yes, even the female ones. Even with CONCORD doing its best, I've been hearing about quite a few fights break out in what's normally considered high security space. All hell has apparently broken loose in nullsec, with wars going on between...Goonfeet? Fleet? Whatever, them and some other corporation named TEST, which is either a really crappy acronym or an even worse name. Naturally, they've got proxy corps fighting for them as well, so the entire thing is a clusterfuck. More than usual, I mean.

Anyway, back to my story. To recap: Old gang starts fucking with my family, I take a trip down there to deal with it personally, march up to my old bosses' office while my old associates are either freaked or happy. I'm right at his door when I get a tap on the shoulder from behind me, and lo and behold, it's Tristan's personal bodyguard duo. Two Minmatar dudes who supposedly had been exiled for some real heinous crimes or some shit, but weren't quite lucky enough to catch the eyes of anyone actually higher in the chain than the tiny prick. I had to hand it to him for good placement of them, at least; Two colossal piles of muscle might be imposing, but they're a lot easier to just shoot when they're right in front of you. This? This was going to be interesting.

"Hey guys," I remember saying. We'd barely interacted before, as he usually kept the pair close by but out of sight unless he needed a particularly nasty job doing, or was trying to make an impression. I think the impression that most people got was that when you put a tiny dick next to two giant ones, it looks even tinier, but I'm getting off topic. "Do you have an appointment?" One of them says, though from the look on his face you'd swear he'd been trained like a fucking parrot just to be able to pronounce something with as many syllables as appointment. "Yes," I claimed. I had no such thing of course, but you know that.

The fact that that worked shows why you hire bodyguards with more brains than a capsuleer does empathy. Part of me was almost disappointed that I didn't get to show these two assholes what over a year killing people had trained me to do, but I -was- there on business. The sooner I just dealt with all this shit, the better, and the less I had to deal with all the memories of my time spent here. After giving them a pat on the side (I couldn't reach their heads, even now) I walked inside.

Now, Tristan might be a conniving, sniveling little shit, but he does good business, and by good business I mean he's good at pushing drugs, whores, and weaponry in a place where you wouldn't think they'd be available. With that said, the colossal sty that was his office didn't exactly promote an air of confidence...or hygiene, for that matter. Booze bottles everywhere, combined with all sorts of files and shit, with his desk and chair situated in the middle of the clusterfuck that was the room. Oh, and when I said files? I meant paper ones. Actual goddamned paper files in this day and age, littered all over the place. Admittedly this helped ensure no one got the whole thing; Even a private server could just be carted off, but this? Good fucking luck.

I know I've said that I was there on business, but the looks from Tristan's cronies outside were sprinkles on top of the deliciously awesome freakout this son of a bitch had. I doubt even a raid by the police would screw him up as much as seeing me did, and why shouldn't it? I was supposed to be dead, or at the very least put to work on a capsuleer ship, which was pretty much the same thing. Tiny asshole just about falls out of his chair as I approach, with what feels like the biggest grin I've ever had on. I think I may have slightly given off the air of a serial killer, but maybe that's just wishful thinking.

Now, I want to say I slammed him up against a wall, threatened to cut off his balls if he ever so much as thought about my family, and left him soaked in his own urine. I'd love to say that. The truth of the matter is that things were a bit more complicated than that. Turns out Tristan didn't have a single fucking clue that he'd been sending thugs to freak out my family personally; They'd moved after my "death" and again after I'd started sending them money. All he knew was that a month ago he'd gotten an order to start having thugs loiter around my families' address, and he didn't question it. Generally, orders from the higher-ups were just parts of a bigger operation that benefited the whole organization, nothing he was going to get clued in one without one of them just flat-out telling him. He had no idea that he was being paid to harass my family, or that I was still alive, though he sure as hell knew now.

Bleh, it's getting late so I'll keep this short. Killing the son of a bitch would've been nice, but it'd have created a whole slew of other problems without really solving my own. Instead, I laid down a quick, simple alternative for him to pick, with the consequences of -not- picking it being a coin flip that determined whether I cut off his arms or cut off his legs and watched him wobble around like a child's toy. I pay him double what they give him to keep this crap up, he stops sending people to fuck with my family, and I don't have to paint his office and the surrounding area a nice shade of  psycho-bitch-murder-blood-red. Thankfully he took it, and I got to leave without making things more complicated.

So here I am, back up in the station. Just sent a message to my brother saying he shouldn't have any more problems with those assholes, and aside from contracts I shouldn't have to go back groundside for a while. All's well that ends well, right?

Well...Not precisely. Before I left that pigsty I did slip a little something behind one of the cabinets the rat bastard kept his files in. Not that I plan on going back there any time soon, but it never hurts to have a little bit of a heads-up just in case, y'know? Besides, I got to listen to him berate those two Minmatar muscleheads for letting me in, which almost, almost made this whole damn trip worthwhile.

-End Log