A
Ascendant Aegis
Guest
Original poster
"Attention, citizens. We, the people of Mars, will not stand for UNCA oppression. Report all subversives and reactionaries. Failure to report anti-citizens will result in security action. Remain vigilant against Earther infiltrators and those who wish to destabilize our great nation. The Ministry of Defense, Public Safety, and Information work tirelessly to protect our--"
It was another hot, arid day on the Red Planet. Despite their best efforts to terraform the rock, it remained just as hostile and unforgiving as it had been before. Difference being, now the air was at least somewhat more breathable and now with a small population of criminals, ex-pats, mercs, hookers, and all other sorts of undesirables. The smell of rust was thick in the air, as was the waves of heat slowly baking everything on the surface-- like an oven.
"Load'a fekkin' biz. The fuck swallows that shit, anyways?"
Vanderson sighed as the propaganda drone hovered past above her head, continuing to spout off line after line of blatant lies and contradictions. Using her pinkie finger to try and pick some food caught inbetween her teeth, she continued down the road with grocery bags in hand. She might have been small in stature, but her tattoos and massive handguns caught eyes as she turned a corner on her heel and entered a tiny apartment building. As the gunman walked up the stairs, she reached up and slapped a crooked sign hanging over the second floor; a poorly-constructed, jagged rectangle reading "Rosa Delivery Company".
The door creaked and groaned as Vanderson kicked it open with a foot, bee-lining for the sofa. Tossing the bags of meager groceries aside by the foot of the seat, she flung herself onto the cushions with a satisfied grunt. In the corner, the wall-mounted tilt fan tried desperately to cool the room; to no avail. Warm air breezed in through the few open windows of the apartment, sending the ragged curtains billowing. The very walls seemed to be inexplicably exhausted, the yellowed paper peeling off in some places and the drywall torn open in others. It would seem like any other habi-block on Mars, were it not for the guns and ammunition strewn about the room, along with the collection of very strange people.
"Bing bong, knabs! Got some 'rats, didn't ave much at the mart, though. Lucky I got my mitts on a case of milk; shit's rare as an honest Earther-"
Her hand naturally extended towards the small table next to her spot; grabbing for a bottle of beer. Knocking over a few empty bottles, her fingers finally felt their way to an unopened example; grabbing the neck and bringing it back towards her. Her thumb sent the cap flying off with a soft pop as she glanced around at the other inhabitants of the apartment/office.
Fresh meat, playing with his fancy medi-shit.. Sexbot, doin' whatever robos do in his spy corner. The fuckin' nerd's at it with her terminals and shit. Bet she gets off to monitors, or somethin'. Benny, writtin' paperwork or some shit, probably.
She snorted, taking a long swig of beer as she leaned back down into the sofa, trying desperately to ignore the strength-sapping heat. It wasn't really working.
It was another hot, arid day on the Red Planet. Despite their best efforts to terraform the rock, it remained just as hostile and unforgiving as it had been before. Difference being, now the air was at least somewhat more breathable and now with a small population of criminals, ex-pats, mercs, hookers, and all other sorts of undesirables. The smell of rust was thick in the air, as was the waves of heat slowly baking everything on the surface-- like an oven.
"Load'a fekkin' biz. The fuck swallows that shit, anyways?"
Vanderson sighed as the propaganda drone hovered past above her head, continuing to spout off line after line of blatant lies and contradictions. Using her pinkie finger to try and pick some food caught inbetween her teeth, she continued down the road with grocery bags in hand. She might have been small in stature, but her tattoos and massive handguns caught eyes as she turned a corner on her heel and entered a tiny apartment building. As the gunman walked up the stairs, she reached up and slapped a crooked sign hanging over the second floor; a poorly-constructed, jagged rectangle reading "Rosa Delivery Company".
The door creaked and groaned as Vanderson kicked it open with a foot, bee-lining for the sofa. Tossing the bags of meager groceries aside by the foot of the seat, she flung herself onto the cushions with a satisfied grunt. In the corner, the wall-mounted tilt fan tried desperately to cool the room; to no avail. Warm air breezed in through the few open windows of the apartment, sending the ragged curtains billowing. The very walls seemed to be inexplicably exhausted, the yellowed paper peeling off in some places and the drywall torn open in others. It would seem like any other habi-block on Mars, were it not for the guns and ammunition strewn about the room, along with the collection of very strange people.
"Bing bong, knabs! Got some 'rats, didn't ave much at the mart, though. Lucky I got my mitts on a case of milk; shit's rare as an honest Earther-"
Her hand naturally extended towards the small table next to her spot; grabbing for a bottle of beer. Knocking over a few empty bottles, her fingers finally felt their way to an unopened example; grabbing the neck and bringing it back towards her. Her thumb sent the cap flying off with a soft pop as she glanced around at the other inhabitants of the apartment/office.
Fresh meat, playing with his fancy medi-shit.. Sexbot, doin' whatever robos do in his spy corner. The fuckin' nerd's at it with her terminals and shit. Bet she gets off to monitors, or somethin'. Benny, writtin' paperwork or some shit, probably.
She snorted, taking a long swig of beer as she leaned back down into the sofa, trying desperately to ignore the strength-sapping heat. It wasn't really working.