Fantastical and Exciting Adventures... IN SPAAAAACE!: THE ADVENTURE!

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Dinorocket

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OOC Thread is at: https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threa...dventures-in-spaaaaace-still-accepting.52111/

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Star Date: X4RTU-91- Actually, Who Cares? *ERROR! Date Access Unavailable due to Machine Apathy.*

Location: Ecumenopolis (City Planet) known as Lucky Shots

Within the one the countless outlands (Ie. Areas of not controlled by one of the Two Major Powers of the Uysric Galaxy) there is a planet, well actually there are several planet in these outlands, but anyway there is the Planet "Lucky Shots". This brings up the question (at least to individuals who do not constantly know about the various biomes of space) which many people are curious about why a Planet would be named "Lucky Shots". Well this Ecumenopolis is essentially one of the many Casino/Bar Worlds that exists in the Uysric Galaxy. Lucky Shots can hold up to 4 Trillion Customers at a time. Of course, not all of those 4 Trillion people are all customers, there are some people who live on that planet every day of their waking life, or they live on Lucky Shots' moon, "Fortune's Hall". And of course, there are many, many, manual laborers who provide the services for the customer which take up part of the 4 Trillion people. As you can imagine, serving all of these people takes a lot of work, and of course resources.

Luckily for Lucky Shots, they have several near-by planets which have been converted entirely for agriculture to support the daily bustle of doing business. The rest of the supplies they need are shipped through one of the many Shipping Wormholes, which make it far easier for space ships to deliver goods and services to other planets. And another thing to note about this planet is the fact that it is owned and controlled by the White Nova Syndicate. Oh, and for any travelers who haven't experienced Lucky Shots, do not burden yourself with the abstract concept of time. Lucky Shots has no official calendar, or clock, as well… Casinos don't like that sort of thing to distract paying customers!

The White Novas, well they are pretty typical for your Space Criminal Organization. They have a highly organized structure, they engage in racketeering, gambling, smuggling, human trafficking, drug peddling, and all sorts of other crimes… Well, at least in civilized sectors. Out here, in the Uysric Outlands, they are free from Hegvan Union and Magsyn Empire laws and regulations, and as this sector of space isn't technically considered civilized, they don't need to worry about breaking any laws in their territory. Over all, it is a pretty nice gig for them. Though, while most governmental services exist, there is one governmental agency in Lucky Shots. They host a branch of the Space Department of Motorized Vehicle Regulations, which honestly is most likely there to encourage customers who finish dealing with the Department to go into a wild spree of drinking, in order to calm their sorrows, for having to deal with them. The Lucky Shots DMV, is of course relatively small, only holding about 50 million people.

Inside Lucky Shots, there are all types of "levels of service". There are the lower class bars, and the higher class bars, from cheap buffets, all the way to the most magnificent and elegant of eateries. After all, it isn't a good idea to only service one type of customers. In fact Lucky Shots hosts all sorts, from the lowest of menial workers, all the way to having dignitaries of various planets. And of course, Lucky Shots has many, many Bounty Hunters hired by either the Magysn Empire or the Hegvan Union to capture any deserting soldier who may have decided to refuge there, instead of fighting in the Civil War. Lucky Shots has anything and everything you could possibly want, from smugglers selling you all sorts of bizarre goods in the Black Market Lobby, to daring space captains trying to recruit new individuals, from top-notch performances from Big-band Swing Musicians, to assaults on the bar floor. Lucky Shot's is quite the interesting planet for any strange and abnormal creature of space. And somewhere, on that Planet, there are some individuals who want to make their names famous or do something noteworthy in the galaxy, who came to Lucky Shots for some reason or another.
 
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"...W-well can't you just let me change it? I only left one thing blank."
"Nope, sorry." GAX said insincerely as she dropped the thirty-page form into the paper shredder, "I mean, yeah, technically I could, but not for you."
The man at the other side of the counter took a long, hard look at GAX before he broke down into tears.
"Mn. Crying in the Space DMV is a finable offense."
"W-what? No it isn't!" the man choked out.
"Yeah. Section 39-T subsection 18 paragraph 2.", GAX paused to flick some dirt off of her desk, "Ignorance is no excuse. Now will you be paying that via check, cash, or credit?"
"This is total bullshit!"
"Well, I suppose you should have thought about that before you got a parking ticket, huh?"
"I- fine. Give me the easiest one."
GAX tossed a thick packet at the man. "What in the hell is this?"
"Request form 38-C. Try not to lose it, otherwise you'll be fined an extra 70 spacebucks."
"But this is in Ilwrath."
"Better sign up for some foreign language classes, then. NEXT!"
The man, now thoroughly broken, sat down in the corner of the room and sobbed quietly to himself.
 
While that was going on, another exchange was going on at the Space DMV. Behind the desk was a Braxian, dressed in a standard suit. He stared at the customer with his compound eyes. He stared down at the customer, as he maneuvered three of his twelve arms to type at various computers which he quickly glanced to. The Braxian hissed, as he extended out his prehensile tongue, picking up a pen, and placing it down next to some organized papers that were on his desk.

"...Hnnyesss... You have made several errors to form 7F-G. You must start over at form R8-B..." He gestured with one of his arms for the individual to go away.
The individual at the counter stared at the Braxian flabbergasted, as he left his mouth agape. He flailed the papers around, "I did nothin-" The Braxian quickly procured the papers with a free arm and shredded it. "Nn.. yelling at a representative of the Space DMV is a sserious offense... That will cost you an extra 100 to the fine you have already acquired while committing the offense of incorrectly filling paperwork."

The customer just stared at the Braxian, as he pointed to his eyes which had heavy bags around them. "Listen, I haven't gotten sleep in two days trying to fill out this paperwork, please I was just trying to renew my spaceship license." The Braxian callously waved the individual off, "You should have thought about your sleep pattern before coming to the Space DMV. NEXT." The individual stood in line, as he opened his mouth, probably ready to scream something. The Braxian flicked his prehensile tongue, as two Security Droids appeared from behind the desk, as they quickly jumped over it and caught the man as he tried to flee from the droids, and secured the man by his arms and legs. The Droids carried the man to the back of the line, as they threw him onto the floor, as he landed with a loud thud. The two droids then walked up to the Front of the line and addressed the Braxian. The Droids spoke in a deep mechanized voice, "You have accumulated a fine of 50,000 extra alongside the fines you have currently been assigned. You may be assigned additional fines related to the fine you have already received. Your vehicle can be towed if you continued to act up, and it will be on your expense to retrieve it. Note, if we are required to bring you to the back of the line, the Space DMV has the right to do whatever it wishes to you. Now then, continue your day-cycle at the Space DMV."

"Situation resolved. Anything other priorities required?" they both hummed in a deep mechanical voice. The Braxian stared at them, "Hnn... Yes, stay here for awhile, these individuals in the line are probably conspiring something. They will ascend to this spot as soon as I am done with these computers. Which will take quite some time, I may go on break before that. When I take my break, make sure none of those people try to leave the line." As soon as the Braxian said that, many customers in the line broke down into tears, as the droids just stared upon them, waiting to see if they would try anything. The Braxian began typing on various computers with three of his six hands, as he returned his focus to the computers. He used his prehensile tongue to grab a pen, as he jotted down some various reports and memos on a series of papers.
 
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Ghriin preferred to stay away from the Black Market Lobby at risk of the guard of her blade meeting someone's face for selling slaves. A moralist smuggler didn't quite get along with others of their trade. But, if you wanted illegal goods and wanted them from dangerous territories, or you wanted to interrupt legal trade routes trafficking slaves or the like, you went to Ghriin. Of course, if you don't mind slightly decimating the fourth wall, Ghriin was the most serious character here. And when people saw her name written, nobody pronounced it correctly. It wasn't Green, dammit, it was Ghriin! It frustrated her to no end but she resolved to simply peacefully correct them instead of pounding their face in.

That said, since she couldn't let herself onto the Mercantile Floor, she was hard pressed to sell her product in her ship - which was thoroughly locked mechanically, electronically, and biologically - that is, there was a biolock on it which only responded to a Xeno Sapien's genetic signature, which was good, since the XS didn't steal from other XS. So essentially, her goods were locked down. She'd find someone else to buy her products. All she needed to do was get the word out, and on top of that, she was well-known enough for someone to spot her if they wanted to buy something from her.

But what did she have in her cargo? An extensive selection of lungs, hearts, and hippocampi stolen from the Magsyn Empire, along with various illegal cybernetics from the Hegvan Union. Some military, some were fit for serial killers. Of course, she kept a tracker on all of her products in case someone decided to kill some innocent persons. Anonymous tips and all that. None were the wiser it was her. Nobody would ever find out.

What the Hell even was Ghriin doing in the criminal underworld? Well, to be honest, she was having fun and being a good person. Rare in her line of work.
 
In the Black Market Lobby of Lucky Shots, there was a vast amount of hustle and bustle, all sorts of strange, exotic, and highly illegal goods were being traded left in right, and after the trade was complete the various "Salesmen" provided a cut to the hosts, the White Nova Syndicate members who were around, keeping an eye on the market place, making sure that no one was causing any trouble, after all that would be bad for business. There were all sorts of creatures engaging in that hall.

Two individuals were walking down, and browsing the various vendors who had set up booths. One of the two was a Yret, a diminutive creature which was about 3 feet tall and moved on all four legs. The hindlegs of the Yret were quite muscular, as opposed to the front legs which had less muscle on them. The Yret had two small outwards pointing horns, and a lengthy snout. It peered with both of its eyes (which were on the opposite side of the head, giving it a fantastic field of vision.) It dragged its tail across the floor, and the Yret paused for a moment, as it itched at its body scales, manipulating its front leg to do so. The Yret glanced up at the other individual, "What goods are you looking for?" The Yret's long and pointed ears (which extended backwards from the head) twitched, "Someone's offering a good deal on used spaceships."

The other individual, to the left of the Yret laughed, as he reached into the pocket of his Bomber jacket, as he pulled out a container of Torek Sticks. He opened the container, as he plucked one out, and placed it into his mouth. He returned the package into his pocket, as he activated his cybernetic left hand, as his index finger quickly opened and activated a small plasma torch, which lit his Torek stick. He inhaled and casually blew smoke out. The man glanced at the Yret as he said in a smooth voice, "Relax Akan, we're just browsing the market place…" He released another puff of smoke, as he rubbed down his sleek platinum blonde hair. "There's bound to be some interesting goods here… If there wasn't the White Nova Syndicate wouldn't allow these people here would they? Perhaps we will find someone to add to the comm lines."

Aran glanced up at the man with the cybernetic hand, "Well Kolan, are we going to be here much longer? You do realize what the schedule of event entails for us." Kolan smirked at Aran as he placed both of his hands behind his head, "Aran, relax, we'll get back to business after this browsing… Perhaps a few gam-" Aran quickly hissed at Kolan, "Remember what happened the last time you gambled?! DO YOU REMEMBER THAT DAY!?" Aran exclaimed, before breathing in and out, as Kolan returned his arms back to his side. Kolan shrugged, "Yeah, that was not a fun experience, but maybe my luck has changed… Anyway, there's bound to be something interesting here, and I won't gamble if you don't want me to." Kolan continued browsing the Black Market Lobby, and headed to an information booth, to see if there was anyone marked for an entertainment gig. He tapped at the information booth, as he pulled up a map of Lucky Shots, as he stared at it for quite some time. Kolan finished up his Torek stick, and discarded it in a nearby waste containment vessel.
 
The Spaceship Sycophant touched down on Lucky Shots late in the night. Hoping to draw as little notice as possible, the brave crew was assigned to hunt down a notorious Organ Harvester. Little was known about the mysterious criminal, except that they were ruthless and incredibly self righteous. The crew of the Sycophant had been hunting this elusive merchant of death for the past three months, and they had finally narrowed their search to the city planet of Lucky Shots.
The pressurized airlock opened, and out stepped Captain Joesph T. London, the charismatic young human put in charge of the mission. He was wearing the standard uniform of the New Earth Government Galactic United Space Federation, and armed with his two custom laser pistols. Captain Jackson looked to be in his early twenties; quite young for a United Space Federation Captain. He was neither remarkably tall nor was he exceptionally short either. The young captain seemed to radiate an aura of confidence around him.
"Were finally to Lucky Shots! You know Grey, this is my first time here? I wonder, what should I do first? The Slots? Space-Poker? Laser-Roulette? There are so many options!"
Behind him, walked a strange being that looked a surprising amount like a moth, only 6 feet tall. Also it was wearing a NEGGGGUSF uniform, like Captain Jackson; but modified to fit his strange body figure. He was Grey the scanners officer of the Sycophant, and the Captain's childhood friend. He was holding a standard issue New Earth Government Scanner, and his standard issue laser gun.
"We're here to stop a wanted criminal, not to play some silly games of chance, Sir."
"Hey, Grey, has any body told you that you're no fun"
"This is a serous matter, peoples lives are on the line!"
"How about this: You go looking for the criminal, and I'll scout out the slots"
"Yes Sir"
 
As Captain Joesph T. London, and the strange Moth-man began leaving their space-ship, a man who stood at 5'10" feet, walked towards them, as he rubbed his hands together. The man was well dressed, and wore a dark crimson three piece suit, with a side holster on his pants, which held a laser pistol.

"Welcome to Lucky Shots! I'm Jack Roderick, say you guys are New Earth Government Galactic United Space Federation employees?" Jack Roderick peered at Captain London and Grey. Jack smiled, as he pulled out a cigar from his breast-pocket, "Say would any of you two enjoy a smoke? Consider it the hospitality we offer at Lucky Shots." Jack extended his left hand upwards, revealing the back of his hand, "We've got so many forms of entertainment available, all the gambling your heart desires, and some of the most exotic dishes and drinks you could ever imagine!" Jack kept a happy grin on his face, until made a small clicking noise, "Oh right, you guys are probably here on business? Say, have the NEGGUSF finally decide to host one of their many ceremonies at Lucky Shots, well if you are here about that, how about I take you to see one of the entertainers who is going to be playing a gig, of course you'd be in the green room with them! VIP treat for the boys in uniform... But hey, how about I show you the wide variety of games we have available?" Jack Roderick kept the cigar out, still ready to offer it. "But, you're probably on business, say that doesn't mean you can't relax a little. Say.." Jack pulled out his own cigar, as he stuck it between his teeth, and took out a lighter and lit it. Jack released a puff of smoke from his cigar, "What does bring you dutiful NEGGUSF gentlemen here to Lucky Shots this day? If I can inquire, after all, I don't want you to have any severe problems while visiting our location. All I wish to do is to provide excellent service to good people." Jack took another puff on his cigar.
 
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"Goodbye, Father." Akira waved to the Tokugawa Industries ship as it warped into the stars. He was on his own now, naked but for his wits, a set of power armor, and a cool motorcycle. A motorcycle he found he couldn't drive through the crowded streets of the Black Market Lobby; he was forced to find parking, taking the compu-key with him.

He felt rather awkward wading through the crowd while covered in LEDs. Awkward, but heroic. This was no doubt the sleeziest place in the sector; he could metaphorically and literally smell the space-crack, were he not wearing a hermetically sealed helmet. But it wasn't his intention to take out the space dealers; those were small fries. A Tokugawa went after big deals.

Akira was going to go straight to the suppliers.
 
As Akira began roaming Lucky Shots, he would see well the Black Market Lobby. Now this, was a fine place for selling all sorts of illegal merchandise. Various vendors were trying to get his attention, well maybe not his attention, but the attention of anyone travelling through. The smells of the Black Market Lobby were very unique, some parts of it having a light citrus smell, while other places just a few feet away would have the rancid odor of something decaying.

Various individuals didn't pay any attention to Akira, many outright ignored the walking LED man, as they were more concerned with the glittery of the Black Market Lobby. However, there was a child, who appeared no older than seven, who ran up towards Akira, holding out an extended data slate.

He stared at Akira wide-eyed, as he drooled a little with his mouth agape in utter excitement. "THE ATOMIC SAMURAI! CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH!?"
 
Ah, the Atomic Samurai. Akira was familiar; it was one of the better hero shows to air in the last few seasons. Fortunately, Akira was not only able to recount his exploits but forge his autograph as well, and who was he to deny this child his misguided affection?

"YES YOU MAY." he shouted in his deepest voice, giving a striking pose. "ATOMIC! AUTOGRAPH!" he scribbled the name onto the data slate, making sure to dot the I with a small atom.
"AND REMEMBER: THIS AUTOGRAPH MAY GIVE YOU INSPIRATION, BUT TRUE JUSTICE COMES FROM IN HERE." the samurai pounded his chest as he handed back the data-slate.
 
The boy stared at Akira, with complete joy in his eyes. He glanced at his data-slate as he grinned ear to ear, "THANK YOU ATOMIC SAMURAI! TRUE JUSTICE COMES FROM THE HEART!" The boy scattered back into the crowd that was ever present in the Black Market Lobby of Lucky Shots.

Meanwhile more dealings were going on in the lobby. All sorts of exchanges, from alien slaves, to illegal cybernetic wares, to calendars that were forbidden in certain parts of various systems.

"Listen, for a Industrial Grade Cyber-arm, I'll only go up to 300 credits..."
"350 Credits and I'll throw in an infrared optic implant."
"Deal."

"How much for twelve tons of high quality Blue Galaxy Psycho-stims?"
"TWELVE TONS?! That's gonna be a lot of credits... Do you really think you could afford Twelve Tons!?"
"Money's no object, I work for a Party Ship, we just need twelve tons of the stuff, it went quicker than the ship expected it to... And in this sector I'd say this location is the best to purchase it wouldn't you agree?"
"Well alright then... Just tell me where you want it shipped to, I'll send out a ship, can the buyers beam it in?"
"Yeah. And thanks for being such a friendly drug peddler."
"Yeah, not a problem at all... Thanks for the large amount of credits coming my way..."
The White Nova Syndicate Enforcer smiled at the mention of that exchange and the large amount of credits they'd be getting a cut of.
 
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Twelve tons of psycho-stims? No doubt Akira had stumbled upon one of the larger dealers in the quadrant. And that meant he'd found a trader ship to trace. But just who was skilled enough to smuggle that much drugs?

The samurai decided it best to tail the drug pedlar for now.
 
The Drug Peddler glanced at her booth as she typed few things on a monitor as her store front Open Sign to CLOSED. She glanced at the White Nova Enforcer who was smiling at her, and flipping a playing card back and forth.

"You know what, since I'm such a swell guy I won't ask for the cut immediately. Whenever you get that shipment sent and paid for, remember to give your local White Nova member the cut." The White Nova Enforcer gave her a grin.

"Well it may be awhile, twelve tons of psycho-stims may take awhile to ship." She said, nervously tapping her two index fingers. "I'm sure I'll get your cut soon." The White Nova Syndicate Enforcer boisterously laughed, "Yeah, as long as it gets there, and the payment settled... That's really all that matters. Oh, and our cut." He gave her a powerful pat on her back, as he rolled his shoulders back, and began moving through the lobby.

"Well, this should be a great deal... Just need to transport twelve tons of Blue Galaxy Psycho-stims." She pulled out a small comm and began taping on it, she glanced at the customer, as she held out her comm.

The customer nodded, "Yeah, those are the correct co-ords."
 
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Legends have been told across the Uyrsic Galaxy of a creature who is being courted by death and chaos. Tales have been weaved of the destruction this beast has caused, it has been claimed that he had quelled dynasties with his bloodied blade. They say this man has captured great space-ship vessels all by himself. The most audacious claim that he has been given was the assassination of the Emperor of the Magsyn Empire. Even though the Magsyn Empire is still running proudly, just the thought that their Imperial Guardians failed to protect the life of the Emperor from this man is a shocking, and bold claim. While this thing is surrounded in myth, both the Magsyn Empire and the Hegvan Union take these accounts with the upmost sobriety and seriousness, and offer massive bounties for Subject 147 alive. Oddly enough they both offer a larger fortune for the individual who brings in Subject 147 dead. Whether this is due to paranoia, or an actual and tangible fear, few know. This individual is simply known as Subject 147.

While there were many clones, creatures and scientific wonders named Subject 147, the only thing that provides a potential link to this legendary Subject 147, was some unmarked laboratory, which received funding from some nation in a Civilized Sector. The Laboratory was uncovered to be in a completely devastated state. This project was an exclusive project; there were only 47 Scientist and 20 guards. From within the laboratory, the only things that were found were completely destroyed machinery which spat out a few sparks, and the corpses of all of the guards and scientists. Their corpses were found, with large gaping wounds across their necks, teeth were scattered across the lab floor, and entrails of the crew were found scattered across, some were draping over large broken computer monitors, others were simply in the pool of blood left from the savage assault. The records that were there about the project were destroyed in a great fire that had extended across the laboratory. However, Subject 147 was unable to stop the scientists from activating an alert signal, which was set up as a precaution in the unlikely case that a subject went berserk. Fortunately for 147 -- and unfortunately for everybody else -- in his carnage he was able to break the lock down procedures. After this event Subject 147 found a way out of the unmarked laboratory, probably escaping by stealing a civilian class personal spaceship. While he was escaping in this civilian landscape, military accounts report firing upon a civilian class vessel which was leaving the laboratory. The military accounts mention how the civilian class spaceship was quickly dispatched, and crash landed onto a local small and uncivilized planet surface. They then reported the individuals' death, but to be sure of the death of this creature, they took it upon themselves to destroy the planet. Once the planet was destroyed, they assumed the escaped Subject 147 was deceased.

Well that is the official record of things… But the legend of Subject 147 did not end with the destruction of that uncivilized planet. After that crash, the legend of the Subject 147 truly began, as strange feats were occurring, such as dynasties being quelled in a night, fleets being destroyed, and other such strange and rather improbable feats. This individual was believed to be Subject 147. Though that is not the only name that this creature was given. The galaxy has given him the title of "Bane of the Emperor", "Beast of the Black Realms", "Gargoyle of Death", and other countless nicknames. While all of these legends are spread, there are a few pieces that are told by all of the sources. He is tall at a height of 6'8", has incredible strength and speed, and the most important detail, his great lethality. Some tales depict him as a laughing mad lunatic, who dances in the blood of those he spilt, and grabbing limbs and pieces of metal and chomping them down in a vicious manner. Others portray him as a cold and calculating individual who never speaks.

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So, it would be interesting that in a shady in Lucky Shots, there would be a rather tall individual, just sitting on a shoddily made chair, staring at a rotting desk. The individual, glancing at the desk, saw a plain napkin with a round, warm, circular object atop it. A cookie. Behind the napkin was a simple "Welcome to Lucky Shots!" card, with some numbers of local food joints. Some terrible hunger overcame the individual, as his hand moved on its own...
 
So... warm...
Where am I?
..... What is "I"?
........So warm...
....I don't want to leave....
....Five more minutes, please... No... I prefer my eggs sunny side down, thanks...

BANG! BANG! BANG!
He opened his eyes, looking to the ceiling of a dank, dark room. There was a fan swirling, the rust on it screeching. Some warm liquid was around him...
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Who was being so loud? He began to sit up, looking around himself. There was a dim glow light on a desk to his left, illuminating a macabre scene. He sat, nude, in a widening pool of blood.

Erethrocytes... hemoglobin... C738H1166N812O203S2Fe... carbon dioxide..

Seemingly useless information plowed through his mind, as he began to frown...
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Outside, there were seemingly monstrous noises being made. Probably some xenomorph trying to speak to him... in fact, it sounded vaguely of a backwater language in the Elropian section of the Uyrsic Galaxy...
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The banging was growing more insistent, and suddenly it began to sound more like an attempt to break down a door instead of an attempt to get his attention.

And that wasn't good. Not good at all. He jumped up and ran over to a metallic case that was lying on a bug-infested mattress. Certainly clothes would be in this case, as it is of tradition for humanoids to place their clothing in such containers.

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG...CRUNCH.

A hole was in the door now, with an insect-like claw coming through. And now the case was asking for a code! How rude. Luckily, for whatever reason, he knew it. 0040... the year he killed the... who did he kill again? Needless information. The case opened, as the man took out a rubbery-square with a button in the middle. Putting the square onto his chest and pressing the button, the square unfolded, wrapping the man's body with a black, synthetic form fitting suit. Taking out a cloak and a dagger, he set a bomb in the case to go off in 7 seconds. 7 seconds and the motel room he was in would be in torched in flames.

7 seconds... almost a perfect getaway, too. If not for those 7 seconds, nobody would've known that he'd even existed.

Who is he, again?

Useless information.

He threw the cloak over his shoulders, putting up the hood, as he shoved the dagger into his right boot (because the clothing-square makes boots for you too, of course). He jumped over the bed, suddenly vaulting through the window to his room.

Down, down. Twenty feet from the second floor to the motel "Gark's Getaway". He rolled as he hit the ground, before....

BOOOOOM!

The bomb in his room went off, effectively blowing out the windows and probably causing Gark quite a bit of stress.

He ran off down an alley, away from the hostility of the xenomorphs who wouldn't just ask nicely to come in.
 
While such an exciting chase scene was going down, a group of White Nova Enforcers noticed the damage that had happened to one of the random rooms of that motel. One of them spoke up, "Huh, we were just going to collect from the dead-beat in that exact building. Well, I guess we'll have the insurance ready from that." Another White Nova enforcer was busy working with a metallic communicator on his wrist. "I'm making sure they are sending repair droids to that room, and contacting insurance to collect the credits." The Nova members nodded at each other and just stared at the room for a moment.

Meanwhile the Drug Peddler of Psycho-stims rubbed her chin in thought, as she began heading away from her store front. "...Hey can you keep an eye on the shop for a moment? There's business I need to do." she said a few paces from the shop on her communication device. There was then a brief click, as a large spider droid headed over to the store front.
 
"Now's my chance!" Akira said to himself.

He did a sideflip in front of the spider droid, brandishing his sword. It glowed with an irradiated hue as he struck a dynamic pose.

"IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE, TELL ME WHO YOUR DRUG SUPPLIER IS." he shouted in his hero voice.
 
The Spider Droid focused all twenty of it's visual receptors towards Akira. "Data Access Unavailable to current user. Will user stand still for scanning process?" The Spider Droid said in a mechanized deadpan voice. "Moving does not allow for proper sensory scan..." The Spider Droid moved up its front left leg as it began tapping on the floor impatiently. "Please stand still for proper sensory scan."
 
"Oh... well sure, if it'll get me the info." Akira responded, standing up straight.
 
The Spider Droid stated in a deadpan voice, "Thank you for complying." The Spider Droid's visual receptors released a blue light as it began scanning Akira from his feet upwards to his head, "Scanning is in progress, please remain still." The Spider droid began making some clicking sounds for several moments.

The White Nova Syndicate Enforcer who was talking to the drug peddler earlier took out a smoke, and lit it. He was casually watching Akira and the Spider Droid. He tapped something on a device he was wearing on his right wrist.

The Spider Droid glanced at Akira, "Sorry, user does not have the qualifications as determined by the scan to learn about the supplier. Would user like a re-scan to verify this?" The Spider Droid said in a strangely sympathetic voice, in contrast to its normal dead-pan manner of speaking.
 
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