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Welcome to Year Eight

"Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurtin' fore she keens. Makes her a home."

Year Eight and Still Flyin'! Thank You, Everyone!

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 Kasern: New Paris: Arts Awards, All For One
Posted: Apr 4 2011, 11:28 PM

Renegade, Rebel & Rogue

Group: NPC
Posts: 165
Member No.: 204
Joined: 21-November 06

Brun ducked sideways as Jaime left, glad both he and Zira had seen level-eyed. That was one crew he didn't need a war startin' between.

"For now, if you see Duke, don't let on that we know what happened. See if we can ruffle his feathers a bit."

"Yes, Ma'am, "Brun answered, gathering his own quota of bounty. Was up to him, he'd add that idiot peacock's head to the pile, maybe his jingee, too, but weren't time for that kind of trophy hunting, "We gotta move! A hundred EMS vehicles are comin' down on us."

Flipping on the com unit he gave a call back to Kasern, "Good work, 'Lilah. We're coming in, but we've got an army behind us!"
Posted: Apr 4 2011, 11:47 PM

Corsair Class Transport

Group: NPC
Posts: 130
Member No.: 121
Joined: 4-August 06


As the crew emerges from the side door of the theater into the alley, the gleam of emergency lights and beacons abound. The entire block is crowded with bodyguards of the rich and famous, chauffers searching for their passengers, and glimmering evening gowns and staid tuxedos all escaping what might be, for all their knowing, a major disaster.

A honking horn, however, presages a familiar sight. The K-Cruiser, it's flat-green cover paint obscuring it's origins on Greenleaf, roars around the corner, with Princess Janes at the wheel. As it approaches, the back hatch pops open to reveal Little Ben in the trunk, ready to help load the cargo.

Overloaded and packed in like sardines, especially with the oversized mechanical mechanic onboard, they somehow manage to escape the madness and chaos that is the crumbling remains of the finest hour of Bernadette's New Paris Arts Awards.

Yes, it's finest hour. Even the greatest performers know that it's not the performance that went perfectly that one remembers. It's the performance that falls apart that holds through the annuls of history.

Duke Righteous
Posted: Apr 7 2011, 06:02 PM

You dig?

Group: Members
Posts: 9
Member No.: 1,000
Joined: 3-August 09

Duke Righteous walked hurriedly through the chaos, being sure to keep his look of shock as genuine as possible, and taking extra care to get in front of the reporter's cameras. If his face was all over the newscasts, even in fleeting moments, it made denying this whole thing that much easier. Thankfully he had managed to change back into his tuxedo first.

It was quite a sight, the panic the alarm had wrought. There wasn't even any evidence of a fire, or any sort of danger for that matter. All it took to get this highfalutin crowd to run for the hills, clutching their diamond handbags for dear life, was the potential for danger. Phonies and cowards, the lot of them, served them right to get knocked down a few pegs. The reuters were going to have enough material for the next month, and attendance for next year's ceremony would plummet. A beautiful thing in the eyes of Righteous.

The Duke slipped one hand into an inside pocket and removed an earpiece, which he put in place once he was a safe distance from the crowd. “I'm assuming everything went as planned?” The response was almost instantaneous, obviously they had been waiting on him.

“Not exactly, sir.” Duke tensed, but he was not surprised. The alarm was obviously a deviation from the plan they set out earlier, but he always allowed room for improvisation, and assumed it was to mask Kasern's or the Esclavizar's getaway. If not... his contingencies would protect him.

“We think... we think the Esclavizar knows you hired them.” Duke cursed.

“How? No, nevermind, I'll deal with that rat later. What's the damage?” He had a feeling Mr. Brown had something to do with it. Duke had made quite a scene at his apiary and had been pushing the man around for months now. Brown was a powerful family and Duke's influence was almost entirely superficial, based on threats and intimidation. In reality, Duke couldn't fight back against him if he rose up, and it seems the man may finally have gotten tired of the Righteous spiel.

“Our spotter saw both crews escape separately, and each appeared to have a share of the cargo.” So they came upon each other... and compromised. This wouldn't have worried him, hell, it would have been great to be able to split the blame on either crew should the feds start sniffing his way, but if Captain Jaime and stand-in Captain Zira knew that he hired them both, they may be inclined to hold a grudge against him.

He had been hoping that only one crew would come out victorious, and that he could tip off the feds to go after the loser to make sure they could close the case without ever finding his tail, but this was still salvageable.

“Set up a meeting to pick up the merchandise. Feel them out and see if they know they've been played, but either way we can still make this work. Make sure you impress upon them the fact that it will be very hot merch to fence,” he looked over his shoulder down the street, now a block away, at the flashing lights outside the theatre. Very hot indeed. The merchandise itself didn't warrant a high priority for the feds, but there were some royally pissed off people who held a lot of power who would be pushing them. People with serious clout out for revenge. Hocking that cargo would be like trying to find a buyer for the Mona Lisa.

“Sir, are you okay?”

“What, why-” and then he realized he'd left something back at the theatre. “Don't you worry about me, just keep talkin' jive to those turkeys and make sure they think they're in charge. They got every right to be pissed, but you offer to take the heat off their hands and double their pay. Both crew. If they think they bartered themselves into some riches, we might just get out of this without bringing the hammer down our own dumb asses.” He cut off the connection and put the earpiece back in his pocket.

He was three blocks away from the theatre now. He slipped into a shadowed alley as another emergency vehicle blasted by, then emerged on the other side next to a black hovercar idling on the side of the street.

As he got in the back and it took off, he sighed. The whole Duke Righteous persona was getting to be tiresome. If he had to ask one more person if they could dig it... he might just go ahead and dig an early grave for that whole act. It started as a way to get his hands dirty, to do his dealings face to face, they way he liked it, but throw people off enough that they didn't see they were being rolled. The Duke had his own reputation separate from his real one. Legend building upon legend, making him powerful without wielding any real power. It helped to have a larger than life personality fronting that.

He wouldn't fall into that trap of power, however; he knew when enough was enough. Everybody always reached just a little too far, tried to take just a little too much. Powerful men fell because they could not be satiated. Not him. He would disappear for a while, let any hard feelings incurred soften, and quietly sneak back into the game when he saw an opening.

“Where we going, Boss?” The driver spoke. He smiled contentedly before answering. “Boss”. That sounded so much better than “sir”.

“To the ship. We're going back to the stars.” Duke Righteous no more, he looked out the window up into the sparkling night sky. “The real stars.”
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