#TEAR INTO FUCKING FUTURISTIC SPACE WORTHY METAL

[barbie-tings]

Just found out that people are “dad/mom of the group”-ifying Miguel and Jessica

[arcticbark-blog]

Impact in Coren

A ceiling lamp with a old human like bulb dangles motionlessly from a few alien looking wires. They interconnect into a bundle that sprawls around the roof of the shuttle, the cable seemingly moving around the shuttles roof in a messy fashion. The roof of heavy metal offers no shine in its dull visage and offers some orange signs of rust here and there. No other lights fill the area and its  yellow shine glimmers over the messy, cluttered shuttles cargo bay. A single human sits on the side of the twin plate metal benches as his gaze keeps locked to the light. Suddenly the light twitches and shakes as the shuttle trembles. The turbulence source a worrisome mystery as it flies in vacuum of space, the only hint of it the destination known by the Human hunter and the mysterious pilot.

No helmet covers the Humans face and no fear is shown at the turbulence at all. If anything the stone faced hunter seems annoyed by it rather than worried though his gaze sits to the antique light that now sways. The dull yellow glow covers his darker skin and illuminates the half shaved, greying black hair as well as the deep brown eyes. His armour is coloured grey and black as the thick battle armour covers most of his hide. Thick with various buttons to a panel on the right arm the armour looks intended to take quite the hit, a helmet sitting in his lap with a smiling face drawn on the front in pink paint. His gaze remains forward with small scars sinking out of sight once the lamp stabilizes. Keeping his sights there he squints his eyes, one hand on the top of helmet and the other to the hilt of a futuristic looking sniper rifle pinned to his back.

–

Zoar taps the top of his helmet. The soft thud of metal on metal clatters through the shuttle as each finger taps after the other in a strumming motion, a mindless act that seems almost second nature to the mercenary. Or as the Galaxy called it, the Hunter. His gaze keeps to light as the details of his most recent assignment go through his mind; or it would if the shuttle kept space silent. Annoyance rides to the forefront of his mind as his eye twitches to the shuttle wobbling once more as something impacts the craft. Oddly enough this doesn't cause him fear, travelling through the Coren Belt as he was. The only emotion comes from the gap in his focus due to the belt spitting small rocks at the shuttle, a notion of annoyance. A deep, calm breath follows as it breaths into his nose and out of it again as he looks to the now swaying light and remembers the mission. Thirty seconds, out of the shuttle and fully armoured. Two hours to travel to the vantage point. Twenty minutes to set up the perfect shot. Five seconds for the sh-

The shuttle shakes again as his hand slips from his helmet, placing it gently down to the bench aside him with the care you would give to a newborn. The same care dissolves as a hand reaches for the roof and a connecting handle with a show of force as a angered breath of air blow from his nose. The force so strong that a tearing noise is heard, only to follow with the same handle to fall down as his own hand moves down to his side, the left hand tightly gripping the handle of his sniper rifle. The noise of the metal on metal rebounds the walls of the shuttle as the handle is carelessly dropped to the floor, more echo after as slow and careful steps led his way towards the cockpits terminal. A red light outlined the shape he knew all too well and the blue of its skin soaked the red light well, almost glowing into the transparent blue slimes body. He speaks on and despite the annoyance in the disruption of his concentration his voice is calm, deep and smooth. It almost sounds like a South African accent if that accent still existed, long dead within the thirty second space year.

“Can you get us there calmly? Or will you continue to hit every pebble in this belt, slime?” The voice that speaks is back in fragments, an attention split between more monitors than a human could ever focus on.

“I am... Good at this. I'll get us-” He's cut off as the shuttle wobbles a little again. Zoar looks towards the many flashing terminals of the shuttles flight deck as he stares towards the shield capacity and warning. It reads in a alien tongue 'WARNING. COLLISION TO LEFT SIDE. SHIELDS AT 86%' as Zoar looks back to the slime for him to resume. “Shields will be fine. I expected more damage... Ahem.  I'll get us there or do you not trust me?”

The neutral stare of Zoar nearly boars a intimidating hole into the slime’s back, though he's far too distracted to notice it seems. “You've broken the shields before. Cut a hole into the hull. Had to put my helmet on fast.” The slime lets out a noise that sounds like laughter. “I'll trust you'll get us there or we'll be dead and I won't care that you fucked up, Tim.”

Zoar looks towards Tim as he sees him in more light as a console lights up, filling the cockpit and the rest of the terminals in a amber glow. The slime humanoid in shape likely as a attempt to be polite to the other ship member, the only difference being the simple space clothing almost sinking into the goop like body of the creature and what seems to be three faces imprinted on his face, likely to see and act faster than any other human. His voice is almost like jelly, the voice wobbles as he speaks while sounding like a French accent. The same voice that speaks up.

“I've got us close to death... But never killed us. Not yet. Keep that hope that I know what I'm doing, Z. “ His focus seems to be still to the cockpit and the terminal that Zoar can see. He simply lowers his stare and looks out of the window into the confines of space, the dodging and weaving of dangerous rocks here and there as a hand presses against one of the walls.

“I broke your handle.”

“Handle? Oh, that. Well that's irritating. We'll have to cut-” His focus trails of as he reels away from a particularly big rock. “Cut some funds out for a new one. They're pretty cheap. Hard to find antique ones like that.”

“We need a new ship. This is falling to pieces.” He kicks the side of the wall as it echoes far too much for the interior of a space craft.

“If you keep kicking it, yes.” Tim tuts, or the closest thing the blue slime can make to a tut. “Treat this prize with respect. Do you know how much it costs? How much Electrom I had to have to fit this...” As  he trails on, cutting out every now and then to fly away from a danger the final clearing to their destination moves out of sight as Coren lays out before him. He then turns back with the same thuds of metal on metal as well as the quickly stifling voice of Tim, not before calling the hunter a certain word. Moving his helmet onto his head he presses a few buttons to the right arm as his helmet opens as if a monitor for a personal computer. Scanning it, Zoar looks into the many tabs before finding what he wishes, a guide on Coren. He then sits back, returning one hand back to the hilt of his sniper as the other one rests to his hand.

'Coren isn't simply a asteroid, it is the only stop between two very distanced space ports. Stabilized and shielded by the city from dangers the Terosian-43 belt or the Coren belt as the informal name, the planet that it rotates along is a inhospitable gas giant. Any who visit this marvellous wonder of a city should be careful to dock their ship at one of the outlying ship locks and engage the dangers of the belt in a shuttle of other space worthy expedition vessel.'

'Those that will get to the city will want to first head into the port of bordering the space station of Coren and report to the visiting office for stay. This is important as the area is very tight on security, holding many lucrative and sometimes dangerous supplies that some terrible space pirates might want for themselves! Once you're inside, you'll want to be mindful of the twin domes. So far we have the human dome of Oxygen for you Oxygen breathing aliens and the Quilyen based dome for you who breath that air. Here you can hand your applications in for deep mining of the asteroid of Coren or stay for a small time travelling between areas. If your a tourist, please be aware that some races of this space station do not take kindly to visitors, and rumour has it that what is mined here is related to some drug cartels and black listed corporations. This is wild speculation and the council of Coren do not approve or endorse this message, but the Galactic Federation of Man demands this warning is added. Remember, space is free, space is endless. But space can also be dangerous, and that's why us at the...'

Zoar quickly returns the the hand to the wrist to turn off the guide, feeling the turbulence in the shuttle as a clear sign of homing in on their location. He stands with his helmet still on, going to grab the handle out of instinct before muttering below his breath. Standing up, he moves to the back of the shuttle and folds his arms, before gripping at nothing and moving his left hand to the hilt of his sniper rifle.

From afar, the shuttle breaks into the shielding of the asteroid with a certain lack of grace, the engines making a bad sound for a moment before returning as before as the shuttle speedily travels towards the port. A large door opens in the floor as the shuttle drops in, besides several more shuttles. What looks like a garage sized pyramid with landing gear out is the closest, to the other side a hexagonal shaped shuttle. Smoke discharges from the bottom of the shuttle as its own landing gear connects with the floor as a group of mixed aliens move towards the shuttle, more steam ejected as the doors of the back slide open and two metal thumps hit the floor as the same Hunter is seen once the steam fades, the first thing to be seen is the pink smiley face on his helmet...