As Noam was having his talk with the professor, he managed to split out some attention and focus it on the newcomer. As more details of the man's apparel and equipment came into view, Noam was smiling again, wider and wider still when the man casually dropped his stack of unusual photos at a nearby table.
Noam raised his hand, gesturing Boris to wait for a while, and managed to excavate a few other lines he half-sang under his breath:
"People dancing around a fire
colours in the air
won't you come my love
to the country fair?"
Flashing assassin gear, clothing and weapons in Rochester was hardly unusual, but outright showing off with those while asking around for Phate and other outlaws with bounties on their heads... not quite.
Are those... photos? Damn, I thought he was a recruit. I guess I should remember that clown's face... judging by the look of things, it's not going to be attached to the rest much longer now. Which would be only proper for me to assist with, the helpful hacker I am. Then again, taking my lack of piloting skills or actual memory into account... ah, yes, naturally...
Noam poked around in his pack and fished out the gun-camera assembly he was working on, and turned back to Boris with a wink.
"As I was saying... Now, see here? Thanks to the attached multimeter, when I press and hold the iterative release button, we can clearly see that -"
"- the bloody actuator is off by about two kilo-Ohms and five degrees. Luckily I can compensate for that with a sliding resistor connected in-line, but the whole thing needs to be replaced, I'm afraid. Let me put this down and lock the trigger, you'll see the difference gets worse as heat accumulates. Now, if we look at this blueprint..."
The verbal stream of technical verbosity intermixed with machine clicks continued until after the Starflier was off in the distance, and ceased as abruptly as it began.
"Sorry about that, but that clown of an assassin didn't quite look like a Lane Hacker, or even a hacker wannabe, for that matter. What with the kitschy gear, I wouldn't put it past him to be a Bounty Hunter wannabe, though - doubly so, considering the photos he was so eager to flash."
Later that evening near midnight, a flashing vessel appeared docking into the hangar, the gleaming light reflection lighting up the bar for a second, the words 'Paradox' on its back fin. A few moments later, Xavier entered the bar at Rochester Inn once again and takes a seat at the counter and eyes down the barmaid who attends a junker at the far left. As she makes her way to grab the drinks she passes by him and comes to an immediate halt.
'As you left this evening a man entered, I heard him speaking about you, in mockery, that one at the back over there..' she signalled with her eyes. 'Thanks for the tip!' 'Is that so?' Xavier grins as he looks back, head turned to view the man. 'Something about calling yourself a hacker, looking like that and being a showoff' She mentioned.
Xavier gets up off his seat and makes his way towards the table where the 'mocker' by the name of Ed was sitting, he drags a chair from the side up to the table and turning it looking the opposite way sits facing the backrest side at Noam and the professor.
'Hello my friends... Ive heard my name popped up in your earlier conversations? I assure you, I do not believe it is the wisest of decisions to backtalk me or my crew... Yes, I now have a crew... My appearance should not concern you, and where it was obtained either, your jealousy should be kept to yourself, with your trap quiet you would look all the better, Outlaws I seek are not of your business, keep your dirty nose out of it...'
Xavier sarcastically spoke with a grin on his face. He looked down at his knives and pistols... Xavier then turned the chair to its normal facing way and layed back, with his arms crossed awaiting an answer as he surveyed the men.
LLyod walks into the bar,unaware of the tense situation unfloding.
"Barkeep! Two sidewinder fangs!"
as he drinks something becomes very noticable. a mass of metal and wires hanges of his back by a strap.By any looks, it a appears to be a Large clyinder, Wiht hooks and Cords extending. It smeels faintly of brimstone
Noam beamed, raised his hands in an exaggerated move, carefully got off his chair, and slowly waved the hands back while performing one of his deeper bows.
"You talked long enough, sire, then please do permit me some time for a proper reply."
It suddenly became obvious that Noam adapted a custom of performing an exquisite bow whenever he found himself uttering the word "sire".
"Now, sire, I admit, I do admit I did all that - but sire! - it was no mere tomfoolery! Indeed, had you given me the chance and graced me with your presence but a few whiles longer - sire! - I would have rushed to tell you myself... Your - sire! - your outfit... Oh, do permit me this intrusion, for you must know... Sire, your outfit is kitschy. Emperor, you are naked. My liege, and there is more. Oh, sire, how it pains me to say so - this is not the place for you, these are not the people you are looking for. We are but poor outlaw peasants, sire, and we could not bear to be near your divine grace, for fear it would burn us all. I am sorry, sire, terrible, terrible gossip, but quite persistent. Oh, how my lungs but deny me the air to speak more, sire, the superstitious folk we are, we'd rather be alive and - dare I say this, sire, dare I say this - some would even chance to *gasp* drive you out... by force! Backwater! Utter lunacy!"
With that outburst of words out of the way, Noam looked up for a while, as if remembering something, and then suddenly covered his face and nose with both hands, unfortunately blocking a part of the air flow in the process.
"Ze noze! Sirh, I ahwayz frrget ze noze! I am terziblyh, terziblyh sorzyh! How you must hazv zufhered my ztahned zizage, oh, sirh!"
And so, before Noam straightened back from his bow, he produced an enormous white handkerchief from his sleeve, and set about frantically wiping his nose. On the positive side, at least he could speak properly again. Then again, with each word came two huge sweeps - while his right hand, armed with the handkerchief, hardly ever left the immediate surroundings of his face, the elbow was an entirely different beast - flailing around wildly in all conceivable directions.
"Oh, sire, pardon, pardon, thrice pardon, if I must! Here, let me at least ask properly!"
Having said that, and continuing his wild nose sweeping, Noam knelled down rather solemnly and proceeded to approach the newcomer on his knees.
"Sire! I a-aah-am, aga-aah-again so devastated by my breach of e-aah-etiquette, do find it in your heart to a-aah-ACHOO!"
His whole body twitched in an enormous spasm, he barely managed to use his hands to keep from plunging face-first into the ground, but he did manage. He looked up again, slowly.
"Blasted- pardon, sire! A thousandfold pardon! Worry not, uh, sire! It will come right off! And if it won't, well, it's all for the best, as I said, uh, if you don't mind me speaking, er, sire."
Noam jumped right up and started flailing his handkerchief again, this time trying to clean off the newcomers' obviously expensive suit.
Xavier, seeming a little impatient and agitated at the machabre the man spoke and as he got a bit too close, moved him back with a slight push of his hand signalling he was getting too close.
'Your words and actions seem to deny me the right to do my business...Mr...Ed? Is it? I will search for who ever I please, my business is not of your troubles, worries or concerns for that matter...I have sought out the men I was searching for, reasons of my own...My suit, you seem to admire so dearly as a 'showoff' tech to enter this bar and inn with? It was obtained during work...' Xavier spoke, formally yet impatiently.
Xavier sits up straight for a second. He begins to ascend into a upright standing up position as he quickly unsheathes both knives and lunges them directly downwards into the table clipping the handkerchief which the man before him was using to clean his suit with etc.
He looks at his confronting man, he observes his 'jester' like actions as he speaks...
'You were making me nervous... I do not consider myself an Outlaw peasant also my friend...' He pauses as he looks at the barmaid.
Xavier points at a sidewinder fang as the barmaid pours it and brings it to him.
'Here you go sir...' The barmaid replies with a slight blush. 'Thank you ma'am' He politely replies as he smiles at her.
Xavier sips it down rather quickly as he speaks...
'Now, my crew are getting impatient...So I'll be taking me leave'
As he says this he pushes the chair back into place, smirks back and continues to walk slowly towards the door heading to the hanger where his crew consisting of five including himself, where now drinking a little and fixing up the ship ready to leave.
As he got pushed back, Noam theatrically fell down on his bottom, hurling his handkerchief at the table in the process. He remained in this position for a while, grimacing as the the newcomer ruined his handkerchief, and finally jumped back up as the man was leaving.
Carefully placing himself behind the newcomer's back, he proceeded to use both his outstretched hands and wiggling fingers to create a passable, but silent impression of playing a trumpet.
Apparently satisfied, he sat back down with a laugh.
Xavier, turns his head at the door as he sees the man he shoved away a little fall on his bottom and then get up. He signals with his hand at a paused wave to show he did not mean to knock him over, only to move him back, as he walks again he pauses as if to speak, but continues. Xavier puts his nano-tech goggles back on, puts his knives back into place and continues his exit towards the hangar.
'Ok guys! Lets go! Business here is done...' Where the words that could be heard faintly as Xavier told his crew from the inn.
The Gunship could be seen leaving the station, the name 'Paradox' on the back seen again, they seemed to be heading towards the California system by the looks of it.
Boris started to burst in a very loud laugh,gasping for breath.
His head buried in his hands,he tried to get a grip.
Noam looked at him with a comprehensive smile.
The laugh finally stopped.
"Noam,my friend,you couldn't have said better words to this clown.
I've never seen such a ridiculous costume.Do you think he's being payed to wear that ? And the way you humiliated him ! oh oh,now that wasn't nice.I'm not sure he understood half of it,though.The googles didn't give him a bright look.
I'll try to talk to him if he is to come back.I'd be very interested by his psychological profile.He must have had a tough childhood."
He looked at the knives Noam quickly picked up with an interested look.
The professor couldn't help but analyse this.
"Those huge blades...I bet this jester tries to make up for something.The frustrated type,you know ?"
He wrote some notes in his "psychologic profiles" notepad about that unusual encounter.
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.
"A clown, Boris, a clown. Jesters are smart enough to spark some comedy into life, with clowns it is quite the opposite."
Noam looked around, and sipped some more, drifting away for a while.
"With that interlude, have a look at this blueprint... It's for a hardware cipher breaker... Do you think you could help me with sourcing a few parts for this, even before the operation? Normally I'd just make a few alterations to various billing databases and have them shipped in, but I need to keep this tip-top hush-hush - this is the secret sauce, you see."
