To: Phoenix | From: Machete - Printable Version

This message is for whoever handles your bounties or... whatever it is you do. Listen, this thing has been keeping me up at night, entiendes? I lose sleep over this.

Yesterday, while I was on patrol in the deep Omicrons, escorting an hombre who shall remain nameless, we ran into a mercenary and a bounty hunter. We had a little chat, you know, polite as I am, and this bounty hunter señorita called us "small potatoes." Do you know what kind of disrespect that is to a Corsair? I don't mind being compared to a vegetable, but the underlying message, such words cut deep.

She told me: that you are paying half a million for a Deterrence head, but nothing *nada* for the Brotherhood. Es en serio?!?

Comm Log 19.1

Do you know how hard it is to build a reputation as one of the most hated raiders and pillagers of the Omicrons and Omegas? Hombre.... Blood, sweat, years... and now, ni un crédito on my name?!?

Let me tell you something: this isn’t just an insult. This messes with my honor. My orgullo. I look at myself in the mirror, and I see... what? A ghost of what I used to be? After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve given....

I demand a bounty of at least one million on my head. Not for the money, no, but for the recognition I deserve. I’ve raided, I’ve burned, I’ve terrorized! ask anyone in the Omegas or Omicrons older than the age of twelve who they fear at night. Es Machete!!!!!

-Machete

RE: To: Phoenix | From: Machete - Soban - 02-16-2025

Hello, sweetie.

It’s usually me who calls the manager, and of course it has to happen today, when I’m about to miss my Zeta Bingo. Ugh, just my luck.

So, let’s see. You want to join the so-called big boys on our top bounty board? Precious. But let me enlighten you, honey: there’s absolutely no honor in being on a Zoner bounty board. Nope, none. All it does is label you as someone brainless enough to cut you off with the Outer House traders. Smart move, right?

Still, I suppose I could make an exception for The Brotherhood—especially since your self-proclaimed “all-mighty” faction has been demoted to be Deterrence lackey, dear. One surefire way to get on our board is if Javier De Cretin swallows up your little errand-boy group whole. But if that’s not on the menu, let’s see what I can whip up, darling.

First, though, I need to know something crucial: do you even know how to read and write, honey?
I’m aware it’s not exactly a Corsair forte, as a pen can’t pierce a hull and all you really need to know is “red equals shoot” and “green equals no shoot.” But you claim you’re above the typical Corsair, so… guess that means you’ll have to fill out piles of lovely paperwork if you want that bounty as gargantuan as your ego.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to indulge in my daily Bingo, since you’ve already made me late. Do hurry, sweet pea—my patience has its limits, and I have other people to complain about.

RE: To: Phoenix | From: Machete - Madvillain - 02-23-2025

Transmission origin: Planet Crete, Omicron Gamma
Transmission Location: Planet Crete Orbit
Transmission ID: Machete[TBH]
Transmission Target: the Phoenix Zoners
Encryption: Open

Hola Senorita Karen

When I sent out my contact to your organisation, I did not expect a reply from someone so stunningly beautiful. Because of that I took some time to really think of the right words, as I do wish for you to understand me well. Your wit seems deadlier than a Legate's broadside, and your beauty... ay, mi reina....your beauty is enough to make even a war-hardened Corsair warrior nervous.

Those eyes of yours, sharp like a veteran gunslinger’s, full of wisdom and mischief, they see right through me. And your hair.... those silver euh.. pinkish locks tell a thousand stories, and I want to hear every single one. What are you doing wasting them on those bland, soft-bellied Zoners? Come with me, mi amor.

I will show you Nova Magerit, where warriors drink and laugh, where the stones echo with songs of blood and glory. I will walk with you through Heraklion, where the alleyways are narrow but the passion is wide. I will grill for you, woman! real meat, not that bland synth-slop your people chew on. I will teach you hispánico, proper words of fire and fury, not the weak whining of traders and diplomats.

I will pick the most dangerous cactuses for you, ones so spiky they will make men weep, because only a woman as fierce as you deserves such a gift. Every Sunday, I will take you to the arena, where gladiators fight for glory, and I will whisper sweet nothings to you while some poor fool gets his ribs shattered. For you I would bite a tiger shark, and I would chew on a hedgehog! I would arm wrestle a bear and stick my head into a wasps nest, just to impress you!

You say I must fill out paperwork? Bah! I have spent years in Corsair prisons, where the only books were ledgers of who got stabbed and the only writing was etched into the walls with broken teeth. You think a little paperwork scares me? Never! Send me all the paperwork and I will conquer it! I might not be the best writer, or reader, but no book or form will best my strength!

And as for me being Deterrence’s lackey? No. Allow me and I will be yours! I am your hombre, your brave bandido, your Corsair warrior with a heart as unbreakable as Crete’s mountains, softened only by the thought of you.

Your sweetie sweet pea,

Gino ''Machete'' Lobonero

-Machete

RE: To: Phoenix | From: Machete - Soban - 03-02-2025

Hello, Cupcake.

My, my, a love letter from a supposed ruthless Corsair? Didn’t see that coming, honey. But rest assured, this won’t do a thing to boost your bounty. Honestly, love-bombing was not on my year 835 Bingo card—I’m definitely calling HR to file a harassment complaint. Bless your heart, Pumpkin.

But don’t think I’m swooning for a second. The deception in your sweet-talking is about as obvious as your steroid habit, sugar. And from the hunger in those eyes, you only want my hand to chop into carpaccio. Too bad my cholesterol would put you straight into cardiac arrest.

I took a peek at our archives—time has not been kind to you, sweetie. Maybe twenty years ago, that trickery might have worked. Look at your past self! Such grace, and you let yourself decay like that, angel. All that Outcast meat you’ve been chowing down on? The cardamine plus the ultra-processed fat really did a number on that sweet body. I always thought Corsairs survived mostly on starvation. Guess that’s your new diet plan, piggy—maybe try it sometime before you pretend you can charm me.

Anyway, back to your bounty.
Here’s your paperwork. Have a blast filling it out, Sweetpea—I’m sure you’ll manage between all your tireless efforts to impress me.

Phoenix procedure A-612D

Psychological evaluation

1. You’ve discovered a newly habitable planet with adorable, Gaians-like aliens. Your first reaction?
- A. As a ruthless corsair, You immediately conquer them and make them polish your fleet of Legate (they have opposable thumbs, after all).
- B. Force them to sign an enslaving treaty and make them repair the fleet you damaged like a morron in the assault.
- C. Encourage them to form a democratic council—then watch from orbit as they spiral into eternal bureaucracy.
- D. You install a grinder and start making burger out of it. Corsair style
2. You’re constructing a new secret base. Which location most appeals to your demented sense of style?
- A. An abandoned asteroid belt. No stable ground? No problem.
- B. The molten core of a planet—strictly for the dramatic lava lighting.
- C. A floating city in the clouds, so your enemies can literally watch your fat ass overshadow them.
- D. In a freeport as it's corsair latest fashion.
3. Your henchmen are incompetent and keep losing the keys to your doomsday weapon. How do you address the issue?
- A. Replace the henchmen with hyper-intelligent AI—what could possibly go wrong? The core did it, better copy them as they are cooler than corsair!
- B. Install mind-control chips that beep every time they think of doing something stupid. (As corsair mostly do something stupid you will have to tolerate endless beeping)
- C. Keep them around; they make a wonderful scapegoat for my future evil monologues.
- D. Fire them out of an airlock. Problem solved.
4. Which of the following best describes your villainous attire?
- A. Dark robes, a spiky headdress, and a swirling cape made of the skin of your last human meal.
- B. Practical, form-fitting black leather—because if you can’t dominate Sirius, at least look good failing.
- C. A bright pink spacesuit so your enemies underestimate you (or keel over laughing).
- D. The “I just woke up in a cryopod and forgot to comb my hair” look.
5. A brave zoner marines captain infiltrates your cruiser the penitence with at least 50k other marines. Your reaction?
- A. Roll out the red carpet… straight into a trap door leading to a meat grinder.
- B. Capture them and monologue about your tragic backstory for six hours.
- C. Offer them free refreshments and artifact, then politely request they sign the useless theta treaty.
- D. Challenge them to a dance-off under the strobe lights of your orbital disco laser.
6. If you have to choose a diabolical pet, which do you pick?
- A. A genetically engineered space shark that can dance the corsair tango (fear + confusion = advantage).
- B. A telepathic slime mold that slithers ominously on the conference table.
- C. A quantum kusari cat that’s both alive and dead until it decides it’s hungry.
- D. A rock. With googly eyes. It’s about the emotional support, okay?
7. What’s your ultimate goal for Sirius at large?
- A. Total subjugation under your iron fist—plus a few statue tributes in major freeport.
- B. Complete chaos, because a stable cosmos is just too boring.
- C. Heavy taxation of everything from air molecules to neutrinos—someone’s got to pay for the golden star yacht of the presidente.
- D. No goal at all, you just want to watch the trade lines burn.
8. You come face-to-face with your greatest nemesis—how do you taunt them?
- A. “Bow before me or I shall exploit your tragic childhood in every broadcast across the galaxy.”
- B. “I’ve already sold your home planet on the interspace real-estate market. Congratulations, you’re homeless!”
- C. “You’re so insignificant that my army of incompetent henchmen corsair can handle you—without me even lifting a finger.”
- D. Your personal answer
9. There’s a peace treaty in theta. How do you respond?
- A. Tear it up, feed it to the people of crete (no food is to be wasted), and broadcast your laughter on every frequency.
- B. Send it back with corrections in red ink and a passive-aggressive note about their grammar.
- C. Sign it, only to break it immediately when no one’s looking.
- D. Forge an even bigger treaty, forcing everyone else to join your ‘Fan club’

Phoenix procedure A-612E

Materialistic evaluation

1 Your Empire is Feared
Prove it! Tell us all about your imposing base of operations—where it’s located, how menacing it looks from orbit, and the size of your loyal (or terrified) crew. We’re strictly curious, of course; we’d never dream of visiting unannounced.

2. Your Mighty Fleet
We hear rumors of unstoppable capital ships and sleek interceptors. Why not share the highlights of your blueprints for a purely academic evaluation of their threat level?
Bonus points if you just happen to send one of those Consul vessels, lightly staffed, to Livadia—you know, for a “demonstration.”

3. Infamy & Cultural Impact
Your people spread terror across the sector—but how? We want exciting anecdotes: the latest base you assaulted, tactics employed, weapon loadouts, dates, times, and those delicious details that best illustrate your conquest. Let’s call it… a historical record.

4. Wanted or Not?
To gauge how “popular” you are, let us know your current bounty in House Space. (Please separate rumor from reality—if the price on your head is low, we promise not to judge… too much.)

5. Surely Not a Deterrence Lackey
We wouldn’t want you to be associated with them. Prove your independence by illustrating just how subpar Deterrence’s fleet maneuvers and schedules are. We only ask because it helps us, benchmark your superior strategic intellect.

6. Close-Quarters Combat
Who doesn’t love the personal touch of a good boarding action or corridor blitz? Share your go-to choice for hand-to-hand carnage—be it fancy blades, nanobot nets, or the old-fashioned corsair meat tenderizer.

7. Favorite Duel Tactic
When it comes to Very Heavy Fighter engagements, what’s your signature move? A cunning mine trap, an early turn, an unexpected use of boxing—or some darker, more twisted approach your enemies never see coming?

8. Corsair Engineering Pride
In the Omicrons, Corsair craftsmanship is both feared and admired—though Outcasts claim it’s “overrated.” To settle the debate, why not send your brightest engineers and scientists to Pygar for a “conference” on Corsair shipbuilding superiority? We’re sure they’ll have a blast sharing their experiences.

RE: To: Phoenix | From: Machete - Madvillain - 03-07-2025

Transmission origin: Planet Crete, Omicron Gamma
Transmission Location: Battleship Prox, Planet Crete Orbit
Transmission ID: Machete[TBH]
Transmission Target: the beautiful Senorita Karen MacDone
Encryption: Open

Oh, mi hermosa Karen,

This is no longer about some bounty or proving my prowess in battle... no! That is child's play. I see it now… you do not just seek the warrior in me, but also the poet, the soul behind the blade. You are not yet swooning, but I swear on mi familia and the charred remains of my fallen foes, this conquest shall be my grandest yet!

Now, this HR you speak of, I do not know what kind of miserable hombre this is, but if he is harassing you, then his days are numbered. Where does this HR live? Is his name Hernando Regal by any chance? Because I have seen that rat lurking around Freeport 9, and I can assure you, querida, I would gladly disembowel him in a knife fight for your honor. In fact: to hells with it! I will challenge him TODAY. You shall have no more reason to complain, oh celestial goddess of Kadesh!

I SWEAR WILL KILL YOU HERNANDO, YOU WILL DIE!

As for this talk of carpaccio and your cholesterol... dios mio! Let us not move too fast, mi corazón. An honorable Corsair muchacho such as myself does not rush certain things on the first date. But your flirtations… madre santa muerte, they make this old, grizzled warrior blush. And I see you have found some old photographs of me. Si, that one with the short hair was a lifetime ago, but the one with the belly and the Gaian-wildlife fur boots? Ah, sí, that one is very recent! A fine sight, no? You see, only the most successful and well-respected hombres of Crete possess such an imposing mono-pack as mine! It is the sign of a true Corsair champion! With me at your side you will never have to be hungry again!

Did you notice that tattoo on my chest? I had it done in prison, many moons ago. I did not know of your existence then, mi alma, but now that I do… does she not remind you of yourself? The saints have clearly woven our fates together! This.... our passion! it is meant to be!

But enough words for now, mi musa. I have just sent my challenge to Hernando Regal. While I await his cowardly reply, I shall prove to you that I am as mighty with the pen as I am with the sword!

I WILL CHARM YOU, OH KADESHEAN GODDESS!

Phoenix procedure A-612D

Phoenix procedure A-612E

Your Proud, Violent and Feared Corsair Warrior, and Sweet pea Cupcake
Gino ''Machete'' Lobonero

-Machete

RE: To: Phoenix | From: Machete - Soban - 03-26-2025

Hello, Tootsie.

You thought I’d forgotten all about you, didn’t you? Adorable.
Let me assure you, I spent my little vacation week thoroughly enjoying myself—paying off bounties to obliterate your pals—without sparing even a fleeting thought for you or your oh-so-pitiful infatuation.

But today, as I was about to toss out that dumpster fire you call answers, I stumbled on a delightful reminder. This morning—after a riveting night of Bingo, no less—I noticed something on my fresh Cambridge synth milk:

So that was you, running amok near a Cambridge trade line last week, pestering a school cargo ship until they basically surrendered a toddler who could read and write for you, because—bless your heart—you can’t. That’s truly despicable, sweetie.

Frankly, your abysmal quiz performance meant you barely deserved a bounty of one measly Sirius credit. But kidnapping a toddler to force-feed your megalomaniac monologue so the poor kid could scribble down your half-baked drivel? Well, that is an achievement! You’ve really raised the bar, honey. I despise other people’s children almost as much as I despise Corsairs, so congratulations—you’re inching up my scoreboard.

You’re still light-years away from dethroning my exes, of course. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear.

Ta-ta for now. And don’t dare bother me again unless you’ve got truly entertaining updates—or I’ll be more than happy to send my lovers on you!