Ripple Part 1

I've played eve off and on for two on three years. Read EVE Pirate for a goodly bit of that time, and finally decided to take a hand in posting some exploits. Though heavily done over in a roleplaying format. Hope you enjoy, and don't knock it to badly.

Naele knuckled his red and itchy eyes in an attempt to wake up. Stretching uncomfortably on the metal plate that counted as a stool. Which so far had steadfastly refused to warm up. Always like this in every stations docking station front dive. He couldn't remember for the life of him what the name of the place was. The paint on the front door long since faded and chipped away. But it servered descent beer, atleast for a Gallentean system it passed as descent beer. Nothing even remotely close to what he was used to.

Scratching his weeks worth of stubble he yawns slightly, trying to kick his sluggish thoughts into some semblance of order. His contact was late, then again, who ever showed up to deal with a Minmatar on time? Well, besides an Amarrian slaver that was. Chuckling dryly at his own joke he slouched against the bar, wirey built for a Minmatar, he still had the swarthy skin and long dreadlocks of the rest of his kin. Most people underestimated his appearance and thought him weak. Shrugging to himself he mused absently, not my loss. Well, other than not having many isk to my name. Swirling the contents of his mug he stared at the flat yellow color absently and wondered why it was so flat. Probably the swill they served here for slave kin. Sighing absently he downed the bitter tasting brew and slid it aside.

Damn his agent for running late. Raising his eyes to the wall above the barkeeps head he watched the chrono count down the turn of another hour. Cheap bastard, should have figured he'd have slid out of this meeting some how. Oily syndicate bugger. Standing up slowly he adjusted his travel weary jacket about his frame a bit better. Reaching into his pocket he tossed a few kreds onto the counter and walked out of the bar without a backwards glance. As soon as the dented metal door swung closed, two well dressed Amarrians stood up quickly and followed him through the door. Thier intent clear as they reached within thier robes.

Walking through the somewhat crowded pathways toward his ship, Naele noticed how people shot him looks and then a look further behind him. A cold clammy feeling settled like liquid lead in his gut. The looks told him clearly that whatever was behind him, wasn't going to insure his ship for free. Reaching superstiously into his synth leather jacket, he pulled out a small firearm, capable of taking down any unarmored person with one well placed shot. Pivoting on his heel he turned and pulled the trigger rapidly, spraying the area with lead slugs. A few spanged off the walls and ceiling, spitting up sparks, but two impacted into the chest of the lead Amarr, sending him realing backwards with two gaping holes in his chest, each big enough to put a fist through. Blood blossomed along the floor and walls, quickly pooling from the now collapsed slaver. The second took a glancing blow to the shoulder, spinning him around abruptly and rewarding him with a swift landing on his rear.

Cursing the slaver leveled his fist at Naele, showing a Vitoc loaded tranqualizer gun. Spinning back around Naele pelted down the grey and teal lit corridor. A soft thump-swish announced the launch of the vitoc laden dart. Dropping to the floor he watched the silvery dart sail overhead and clatter off the ceiling. Standing up slowly he turned around and faced the now pale amarr, his lifesblood pulsing out of him in rythmic little spurts. Smiling grimly, Naele walked foreward slowly, hobnailed boots clunking loudly against the meticuosly clean floors. He almost felt sorry for the Gallentean cleaning crew in a few hours. The Amarr stuttered something in his hateful language. Probably a prayer to his oh so devine emperor.

Lashing out with his boot he fetches the man along side his shining pate, right above his ear. Not even crying out, the amarr in his opulent red robes slumps to the side, curling in on himself, still reciting his litany of prayers. Grimacing he steps on the mans hands, crushing the spindly fingers beneath his boot sole. Grinding the boot back and forth he smiles in pleasure at the sickening crunching noise. "This is for the years of opression, you bastards." Lifting his foot he spat on the mans face and strode away.

Funny how the corridor emptied of people when the ugly business gets to starting he thought absently. With any luck, he'd get away with this little act of freedom fighting, without Concord catching wind of it. Taking one of the side branches toward the docking stations he started to encounter people. An even mix of the races. Some more liberal minded Amarr nodding in his direction. Smiling he thought to himself, only in Gallente space would an Amarrian even stop to acknowledge his existance in any other form other than a slave. Ambling through the dull metal halls he made his way toward the frigate docking bay. He no longer acknowledged the make of the place. True, it was pleasing to the eye to some folk, being dull metal grey, lack luster, and only faintly reflecting back the teal lighting, it wasn't much to his more roughshod tastes. But the Gallente, for the most part, where helpfull to the majority of the Minmatar, well, those that were now law abiding.

Chuckling dryly he walked up along a spiraling path and looked down at his frigate. A rifter class, its dual intakes swept out ahead of the rest of the ship, and its wings spread out far behind. Nodding at his ship, the Echo Screen, he patted the hull affectionately before walking inside to suit up. Oh how he hated that pod, he thought before going through the process of slipping inside of the small egglike container. Going through the motions he fitted himself out to each of the ships functions, while the green lukewarm gel like substance flooded the canister. Shuddering he calmed his nerves and closed his eyes, as his ships AI greated him via neural link. "Hello Naele, welcome back." Naele smiled and chose to ignore the AI for now, speed being of the utmost importance. He didn't fancy the idea of being stuck in the station while Concord set up shop outside to shoot his frigate. Ignoring the warning of the docking station master he urged his ship up and around, arrowing toward the doors open to the vast vista of space. Coasting through the stations docking shield he ejected his camera drone and panned around, looking for any sign of Concord, or if the turrets where visibly tracking him. Both were a no.

Cleared for publication by: Ander