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.
Showing posts with label Kaz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kaz. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Saturday, February 20, 2016
Log 05X-3
Log 5X-3
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders
-Date: 117.02.17
Hey diary. Sorry about the, uh, somber note I kinda left you on last time. Figured that was a little bleak, so I thought I'd catch you up on everything that's been going on with my friends and family, since that's...mostly better. Not like everyone's come out of the last few years unscathed, but I'll get to that in a bit. I will say that there does seem to be something of a fatigue going around, which I guess is understandable. Year after year of endless warfare for companies that don't give two shits? It wears you down, and I'm not the only one who has said that enough is enough, but I'll get to that in a second too.
So...where to start? I guess we might as well begin with Kaz, since he's one of the first people I mentioned on here. Not including Doc, I guess, but..I think I didn't start writing about him until later, so Kaz it is. As for what how he's doing, he's actually retired. Well, I say retired, but the truth of it is that he struck a bargain with some of those flying space bastards and now he acts in an advisory role for 'em. Apparently the whole,"tearing themselves away from the empires and forming their own...thing," is really picking up traction, which means they're going to need planets, which will need protection, and who better to help equip their soldiers then someone who has a shitload of experience and the same complete disregard for human life as they do? Still has enough armaments and dropsuits to outfit an entire legion too, and it wouldn't surprise me if he had upped his arsenal with some more...grandiose equipment. I'm talking about artillery and bombardments, the kinda stuff that you use when you're taking down a Military. Maybe not up to orbital capacity, but if he wants something to die, he's got plenty of choices in how to make it so. The whole thing leaves him fairly busy, but we still get to talk on occasion, which does kinda make me appreciate it that much more. I'd like to visit him sometime, but there's no way in hell that the Gallente would let me go meet with a "rogue" mercenary, especially considering he took a shitload of illegal weaponry with him. I'm not even supposed to technically talk with him, but there's ways past that if you know how...or pay someone that knows how.
As for Doc, he's come a long way. Used to be he had his own private clinic dealing with sorry cases like me, now he owns his own practice, and they deal with PTSD in all military vets, whether they're mercs like me or just regular old soldiers. Well, they'll actually help anyone, it's just that military vets get a discount, which is nice of him. I actually quit going to him about a year ago, once I realized that our talks were more social than medical. We still talk occasionally, but he's busy as shit. It's not quite like Kaz, though. I still babysit for him and his husband sometimes, which breaks up the monotony nicely. Usually I head over there to do it, since my own spartan digs aren't exactly kid friendly, particularly when it comes to keeping any of us sane. Do you remember Vena and Arya? The little terrors, or at least they used to be. They're older now, not -quite- as energetic, more prone to sit there wide-eyed and listen to me talk about my equipment and my life. I'd say they're a little sheltered, but given what Doc does, I'm not sure if they're fascinated because they've never heard this crap before, or if they've just taken a liking to me personally. Either way, they're way less exhausting and a bit more like actual people, which is always nice. I'm still,"Aunt," incidentally, which hasn't gotten any less mortifying as time has gone by.
So...my dad. When I said that not everyone has gotten better, he's mostly who I was referring to. I'll just go ahead and say he isn't dead, no, but he's...not doing well. To be more precise, he's in a coma. As for why, I wish I knew. The doctors have said that it was something engineered, like some kind of manufactured disease or something like that, since the symptoms don't seem to match up to any known illness, and my dad is definitely not one for colonization, so it's not like he got some whacked out space plague. They've done everything they can, but they don't actually know -why- he's in a coma; His vitals suggest he's doing fine, and they can't find anything wrong, but...well, if he's not waking up, he's not waking up. One of the doctor's suggested that he might've stood a better chance if his organs hadn't already been on the way out, which I can't say was exactly surprising. Who knew that not drowning yourself in fucking booze might keep your healthier than if you didn't?
Fuck. Didn't really want to end this on a depressing note again, but it's time for bed. Uh...my coffee is good? I dunno, I'll try not to do it twice next time. 'Til then.
-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders
-Date: 117.02.17
Hey diary. Sorry about the, uh, somber note I kinda left you on last time. Figured that was a little bleak, so I thought I'd catch you up on everything that's been going on with my friends and family, since that's...mostly better. Not like everyone's come out of the last few years unscathed, but I'll get to that in a bit. I will say that there does seem to be something of a fatigue going around, which I guess is understandable. Year after year of endless warfare for companies that don't give two shits? It wears you down, and I'm not the only one who has said that enough is enough, but I'll get to that in a second too.
So...where to start? I guess we might as well begin with Kaz, since he's one of the first people I mentioned on here. Not including Doc, I guess, but..I think I didn't start writing about him until later, so Kaz it is. As for what how he's doing, he's actually retired. Well, I say retired, but the truth of it is that he struck a bargain with some of those flying space bastards and now he acts in an advisory role for 'em. Apparently the whole,"tearing themselves away from the empires and forming their own...thing," is really picking up traction, which means they're going to need planets, which will need protection, and who better to help equip their soldiers then someone who has a shitload of experience and the same complete disregard for human life as they do? Still has enough armaments and dropsuits to outfit an entire legion too, and it wouldn't surprise me if he had upped his arsenal with some more...grandiose equipment. I'm talking about artillery and bombardments, the kinda stuff that you use when you're taking down a Military. Maybe not up to orbital capacity, but if he wants something to die, he's got plenty of choices in how to make it so. The whole thing leaves him fairly busy, but we still get to talk on occasion, which does kinda make me appreciate it that much more. I'd like to visit him sometime, but there's no way in hell that the Gallente would let me go meet with a "rogue" mercenary, especially considering he took a shitload of illegal weaponry with him. I'm not even supposed to technically talk with him, but there's ways past that if you know how...or pay someone that knows how.
As for Doc, he's come a long way. Used to be he had his own private clinic dealing with sorry cases like me, now he owns his own practice, and they deal with PTSD in all military vets, whether they're mercs like me or just regular old soldiers. Well, they'll actually help anyone, it's just that military vets get a discount, which is nice of him. I actually quit going to him about a year ago, once I realized that our talks were more social than medical. We still talk occasionally, but he's busy as shit. It's not quite like Kaz, though. I still babysit for him and his husband sometimes, which breaks up the monotony nicely. Usually I head over there to do it, since my own spartan digs aren't exactly kid friendly, particularly when it comes to keeping any of us sane. Do you remember Vena and Arya? The little terrors, or at least they used to be. They're older now, not -quite- as energetic, more prone to sit there wide-eyed and listen to me talk about my equipment and my life. I'd say they're a little sheltered, but given what Doc does, I'm not sure if they're fascinated because they've never heard this crap before, or if they've just taken a liking to me personally. Either way, they're way less exhausting and a bit more like actual people, which is always nice. I'm still,"Aunt," incidentally, which hasn't gotten any less mortifying as time has gone by.
So...my dad. When I said that not everyone has gotten better, he's mostly who I was referring to. I'll just go ahead and say he isn't dead, no, but he's...not doing well. To be more precise, he's in a coma. As for why, I wish I knew. The doctors have said that it was something engineered, like some kind of manufactured disease or something like that, since the symptoms don't seem to match up to any known illness, and my dad is definitely not one for colonization, so it's not like he got some whacked out space plague. They've done everything they can, but they don't actually know -why- he's in a coma; His vitals suggest he's doing fine, and they can't find anything wrong, but...well, if he's not waking up, he's not waking up. One of the doctor's suggested that he might've stood a better chance if his organs hadn't already been on the way out, which I can't say was exactly surprising. Who knew that not drowning yourself in fucking booze might keep your healthier than if you didn't?
Fuck. Didn't really want to end this on a depressing note again, but it's time for bed. Uh...my coffee is good? I dunno, I'll try not to do it twice next time. 'Til then.
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