“Hey, watch the shipment you pendejo's! Otherwise, I'll show you that a Corsair can fight outside the cockpit,” Carmen growled at the Noshima's unloading crew. Giving each a sharp look.
The few Corsairs serving as crew aboard her ship, shared grins among themselves.
A Kusari man standing next to her, spoke up after her warning. His accent thick. “The Corsair's are good business. Be more careful,” he warned further.
He turned to Carmen and offered her a small bow. Carmen gave the man a slight, but appreciative, dip of her head. Hinata Ito was someone she'd begun to grow familiar with. Often the foreman who'd serve as Noshima's representative to the Corsairs. He took his position seriously and was always on point. Carmen appreciated his attitude.
The unloading crew gave her a wary look and acknowledged Hinata's words, as they went back to unloading the crates of artifacts. Carmen stood sentinel until they had finished. Only when she'd received her payment from Hinata, did she make to depart.
With a fresh stack of creds wired to her personal account, she was feeling good. There was still the risky trek back to Crete, but for now she'd take some time to relax in the freeport.
“Lock down the ship. Time for some recreation my kin.”
Club Nebula flashed bright over top a large entrance. It offered the allure of bright lights. The music playing within, inviting. The temptations within in, too much for many to resist. An exotic club and gambling establishment. Many dreams could be had inside. For those willing to partake and part with an ample amount of creds.
Two well dressed Hogosha exited. Their time within, at its end. Each had slicked back hair. In a top-notch. Wearing crisp suits. Styled with unique Kusari accents. The men's path curved out and away from the club. Coming in line with Carmen's. Upon spotting Carmen, their eyes locked onto her. Attracted by her unique look. Unashamedly eyeing her up and down. Obviously curious. Then quite interested.
She eyed them both. As their combined paths neared, she shook her head.
“Keep moving hombre. This chica, isn't for you.”
Their heads stiffened upright and their attention grew aloof. The two offered stiff, quick, nods of their heads as a polite gesture of recognition and she flicked her hand in equally quick acknowledgement, as she then shifted her attention to the 'armory'; as her people had come to call it.
A large Kusari man stood behind thick blast resistant glass. His attention focusing on her. Two guards stood on opposite sides. Watching everyone who came by. Carmen flicked the strap on her holster and slipped out her sidearm. Spun it upside down, gripping the gun by its face and slid it through the pistol slot in the glass. The Kusari man grabbed a slat. Flicking it through to her. It had the number 135 on it. Carmen took the slat and pocketed it.
A flash of multi-colored laser lights washed over Carmen's silver hair. Giving her the appearance like that of a star's light shimmering over a gas-giants atmosphere. She gazed about. Taking stock of the venue. Making out the usual crowd of gamblers, bar patrons, and those here for the more exotic offerings. Lastly, she spotted a few Outcast members off to the far right. She sneered, then veered left away from them.
Carmen made her way past a booth with a lightly clad dancer in the middle. Her onlooking crowd appeared a mix of Hogosha and Corsair, by their dress. Carmen surmised the two groups, likely mixing business with pleasure. None of her business either way, so she kept on walking.
A fair distance away, Carmen found a booth being cleaned. She waited and then took it for herself. After sitting down, facing the greater portion of the club, she reached up to her chest and grabbed the hilt of her combat knife and set it on the table in plain sight. An open warning.
She flagged down a server and ordered a local Kusari mixed drink she'd grown fond of. Though, what she really wanted was some Corsair Rum. That would have to wait. She then leaned back against the padded seating, arms up, hands interlaced behind her head and took in the sights. Crossing her legs. Idly watching the dancer a few moments before flicking her eyes elsewhere. She let the music flow through her mind. Her mood shifting with the flow. Relaxing. Then settled for some people watching in the immediate future.
"My kin! We are Corsair! We are the 'Horned Ones'! By Crete we have been made strong! There is no foe we cannot defeat! No enemy shall be spared our horns! No friend or ally shall find us wanting! For we are Corsair! By the might of the Imperio we spread out our hands! All we see will be ours one day! I have had a dream. A dream of a green Crete. A paradise! And in that dream, our enemies are not there! Crushed and mangled beneath our horns! Uplift your voices! Shout with me! Corsair! Corsair! Corsair!"
-Carmen Elena 'Silver' Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio
Perhaps that was the best word to sum up the noble face and perfectly postured silhouette that had just slithered through the entrance. A living and breathing form cast as if from a single slab of marble.
Neon washed over the crude red flight-suit which gave him the aesthetic of a scrappy rebel pilot. But the cravat dipping through the partially unzipped collar suggested an appreciation for style that couldn't have been so proletariat. Not that a man with such a disposition could ever truly be one of the many, even if he bore their colours, and killed in their name.
A creature that ate its own kind instead.
And a guest that was thoroughly not appreciated by the locals. Particularly a table of Hogosha who spoke in their native tongues, no doubt in terse disapproval, but they were then shocked by the foreigner being capable of responding in the very same language. This brought the trio of up-jumped thugs out of their seats, with one reaching into his jacket, their surprise no doubt hardening into offense, and spite.
But a colossal form materialized between them. One of the bouncers who had no need of words to quiet this potential upset before it happened. Though it did nothing to alleviate the insult that was now unanswered. Faced with no other option and a bruised pride, that table of Hogosha opted to leave altogether.
The white haired xeno smirked at this, a sort of reaction that suggested that perhaps he had been hoping for an escalation, but was no less amused by this outcome. And had the freshly vacated table not been cluttered so terribly then he would have seated himself there and then.
Instead, he moved through the crowd and circled, vanishing in that mix of light and moving bodies before appearing again rather suddenly, likely from a blind spot, and in direct proximity to Carmen's booth.
With one deft motion his gun took up the vacang space on the table across from her knife. Perhaps accepting the challenge or simply impulsive by nature. It was a vicious looking block of steel. Positively ancient and inscribed with what looked to be an oath that was unfortunately upside down and too ornate to read from the present angle.
"May I?"
Polite. And with an effortless control over his voice that elevated the two worded request into an auditory spectacle - like syrup and poison.
Flow. Carmen had found a flow like that of a jump hole. The rush of light and particle. Here, there was a smooth and unfettered trickle of time. A kind of way she never could properly describe. Listening to music had a way of framing her mind in a quasi-trance like state. Giving her a state of being only matched in the heat of combat. A lock-in. Mind and body on a plane of existence that felt almost meta-physical.
She rarely ever thought remotely in that nonsensical direction, yet music undeniably did something wonderful to her. Something, perhaps almost, mind altering. If it could be classified like that, it was something she could accept.
Then, that flow came to an abrupt halt when the clack of metal on metal caught her attention. Instead of glancing at the gun placed down, as if in challenge to her knife, her eyes were on the man. Instantly studying him. Discerning if he was a threat, a flirtatious peacock, or just one of those odd gregarious types that always felt like they never quite belonged. Especially in a place of debauchery and rough, hungry, minds. The way he spoke, however, surprised her a little; though none showed on her expression. He was not a common thug. That much was clear. She was curious now.
"Lonely hombre?" she teased. "Come to share the booth with this chica?"
Her eyes offered a glint of easy, harmless, amusement. Then she opened her hand, palm up. Fingers pointed at the opposite seat. "Join me. You caught me in a good mood, senor. Who might I have the pleasure of being joined by?"
"My kin! We are Corsair! We are the 'Horned Ones'! By Crete we have been made strong! There is no foe we cannot defeat! No enemy shall be spared our horns! No friend or ally shall find us wanting! For we are Corsair! By the might of the Imperio we spread out our hands! All we see will be ours one day! I have had a dream. A dream of a green Crete. A paradise! And in that dream, our enemies are not there! Crushed and mangled beneath our horns! Uplift your voices! Shout with me! Corsair! Corsair! Corsair!"
-Carmen Elena 'Silver' Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio
He tilts his head at the comment, smirking for a moment, and electing to first be seated before actually answering any of the questions.
"Damien Morreti. Commander of the Xeno Alliance. Just Damien is fine though."
His tone varied little and maintained a sense of being utterly at ease. A second passed before his posture followed suit, as if concealing a cold calculation of the woman across from him, a leg then crossed over the other and pronounced the already regal posturing.
"I'm already spoken for though - happily so."
There would be no attempts at courtship here. Or whatever passed as courtship on a wayside rest-stop like this. An attendant did scurry over to their table once he was seated and doted patiently until he ordered something in the local tongue. This sent the small framed servant scurrying off back behind the main counter and out of sight.
"Your turn."
His head tilts ever so slightly in expectation of an introduction.
Carmen laughed at his remark. Her hand came up and gently pressed against her collarbone. "Good, amigo. You wouldn't have stood a chance with this chica, anyway."
That same hand lowered and wrapped around her drink. It was an exotic colored neon-green. With swirls of silver. To Carmen's knowledge, it had some exotic coloring from a plant found on some planet in Kusari space. The silver streak was a light syrup made of synthetic sugar and gel that helped keep it from mixing with the alcohol. She took a sip. Never taking her eyes off Damien. When declared it was her turn, she set the glass down. Her relaxed posture straightening and her demeanor grew stoic, proud.
"Carmen Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio. Well met, hombre. I've heard a little of the Xeno Alliance. Liberty unlawful's. Fighting for the people. A small collection of the disillusioned. What brings you here? Business for this alliance or a safe harbor and place of sin for those with such appetites?"
"My kin! We are Corsair! We are the 'Horned Ones'! By Crete we have been made strong! There is no foe we cannot defeat! No enemy shall be spared our horns! No friend or ally shall find us wanting! For we are Corsair! By the might of the Imperio we spread out our hands! All we see will be ours one day! I have had a dream. A dream of a green Crete. A paradise! And in that dream, our enemies are not there! Crushed and mangled beneath our horns! Uplift your voices! Shout with me! Corsair! Corsair! Corsair!"
-Carmen Elena 'Silver' Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio
"I'm sure I could have managed a few years ago. But that's the funny thing about time."
He sounded confident, perhaps too much, but it was likely he was the sort of man who had always found a way to get around obstacles.
"I'm here with a small crew selling stolen goods. We'd normally go somewhere else but this place pays better. Plus there's always the chance to pop a GC or two along the way."
A momentary grin punctuated that statement. Clearly he was more than comfortable with violence and didn't hide behind his apparent rank.
But regardless of the measure of him being provided by these answers. It was her turn again.
Carmen gave him a scoff, but her smile didn't relent. Though he likely had no idea about Corsair tradition, she still liked the confidence. It was certainly pleasing. She listened quietly as he continued on. Her eyes not leaving his. Holding his steady. Self assured. Focused. At the mention of his reasoning for being here, her lips curved slightly.
"Aye, amigo. Common reasoning, well close enough. I brought in a load of artifacts. We all have our means of printing those creds, eh hombre?"
Her hand raised up to the establishment at large. "A fine place. I personally do not partake of the... darker things, one might say, that happen here. Yet, it still serves well enough for my liking." Her demeanor shifted at mention of the GC. "Ah yes, those Golden Chrysanthemum are fops and tools of the Outcasts. Make for good target practice." Carmen appeared like she could taste the bitterness of her own words. "And yes again, there is solid profit to be had here. Better be, for my ass to be so far away from the soil of Crete." Carmen laughed. She took a quick swig of her drink.
"So, tell me of your turf. We Corsair's have yet to venture into Liberty. What is it like?"
"My kin! We are Corsair! We are the 'Horned Ones'! By Crete we have been made strong! There is no foe we cannot defeat! No enemy shall be spared our horns! No friend or ally shall find us wanting! For we are Corsair! By the might of the Imperio we spread out our hands! All we see will be ours one day! I have had a dream. A dream of a green Crete. A paradise! And in that dream, our enemies are not there! Crushed and mangled beneath our horns! Uplift your voices! Shout with me! Corsair! Corsair! Corsair!"
-Carmen Elena 'Silver' Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio
She asks for insight into what Liberty is like and this makes him smile. It also leads to some off the cuff honesty.
"To you? Hostile outright. On the few occasions we see your kind, or people working for you, we're incentivized by our "trade partners" to gut them and scoop up what's left. You always did favor the Junkers a little too much which made that knife easier to twist."
It seems he appreciates the irony of the blade on the table as he makes this connection. Giving the weapon a glance before defaulting back to direct eye contact. No concern seems to be spared for the lives lost, or the potential tragedy, in fact he almost sounds amused by it all.
While bluntness and honesty would always be valued in Carmen's opinion, this particular instance earns Damien a pout. "You didn't have to go down that particular route, amigo. We were having a nice conversation."
Carmen exaggerated a sigh. Then took a swig of her drink. Placing it down. Her shoulders squared up. Her pale silver eyes fixed upon him dead in the eyes. Her chin tilted up. Leaning in a little over the table, she gave him a smile full of certainty. "I'll provide you the 'courtesy' of giving you the what's-what in exchange. Your tiny little Xeno Alliance would be dust in the void if they ever dared tread the Edge Worlds. You see, us Corsairs, are Empire. You," she pointed slowly, her finger razor straight, "are playing at a game too big for that culo of yours. Its a void full of giants and you would be crushed underfoot and no one would even notice."
Her hand then flicked dismissively, as she leaned back. Her demeanor growing disgusted, but not towards him. Mostly. "Your 'trade partners' are weak. They could barely handle the revolt of their own slaves. You and your Xeno's would be wise to abandon them."
That hand wrapped around the drink once more. Taking another swig. Then her expression softened back to the casual look she had before. "I hadn't come here to trade barbs, hombre. Care to simmer this down? Though, if you insist, I wont back down from exchanging words."
"My kin! We are Corsair! We are the 'Horned Ones'! By Crete we have been made strong! There is no foe we cannot defeat! No enemy shall be spared our horns! No friend or ally shall find us wanting! For we are Corsair! By the might of the Imperio we spread out our hands! All we see will be ours one day! I have had a dream. A dream of a green Crete. A paradise! And in that dream, our enemies are not there! Crushed and mangled beneath our horns! Uplift your voices! Shout with me! Corsair! Corsair! Corsair!"
-Carmen Elena 'Silver' Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio
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