(no subject)
Long time ago. I just don't want to lose 'em. Don't hafta read them, I probably never will again, because well it kinda sucked but still. I wanna keep 'em.
An Entrance
ギャレット couldn't help but admit to himself that his VF-72 jumper ship was damaged beyond repair. He had been careless - there was nothing to gain from running that gauntlet of asteroid dodging and dogfighting in a race around Jupiter...but he couldn't help himself. Nothing in this galaxy or the next enticed him quite as much as a thrill, a new challenge, even if it meant putting his life on the line. Sure, he had won 25,000 wulongs for his first-place finish, but that wasn't nearly enough to compensate for his completely ravaged ship.... He would have to find a new one. The closest planet to him, and even that was a long way away, considering his situation, was Earth, that hellish land of poverty and destruction. He sighed. It had been such a beautiful planet once...before the gate accident. Now all that seemed to be left, anywhere within visible distance, was a pile of rubble and a person wearing tatterdemalion clothes that seemed barely enough to keep him warm.... He doubted he'd find a quality ship for quite some time. And even if he did, this measley sum of cash could never pay for it. He slammed his fist down on his control panel in frustration.
How, in a race around Jupiter, did I end up close to Earth? How could I have shot past Mars so quickly? he thought. His perplexion did not last long, as his groaning ship and equally loud stomach snapped him out of his thoughts. I suppose I'll just go. Not that I have too much of a choice.
Thirty minutes later, a fiery mass of metal slammed into the ground on Earth; he limped out of his mangled ship and looked around. His ship was a twisted scrap of steel, but then, he knew that. He looked at his new surroundings, and probably his home for the next few weeks, and sighed again. He begins to trudge onward, holding his shoulder and limping on his left leg.
ギャレット had been walking for about thirty minutes when he encountered a man laying in a poorly-anchored tent draped between two large boulders. He paid him no mind, as he usually did around anyone, but the man called something out that stopped him dead in his tracks.
"You'll never get away. They'll always hunt you, like a lion stalks her prey; they won't stop until your body lies cold on these rocks, infested with maggots and worms."
The calm exterior that he always maintained disappeared, and he whirled around to question this stranger, but the tent was empty. Suddenly, he was rammed from behind. He fell to the ground and nimbly rolled into a crouching position, ready for the next attack, but his assailants were running in the other direction. The old man seemed to be in better shape than his younger counterpart, as he was in the lead. Gyaretto checked his pocket...his 25,000 wulongs was gone!
You picked the wrong day, assholes.
He got up and, ignoring the searing pain in his left leg, tore off after the thieves.
He chased the two pickpockets for a good fifteen minutes...leaping rocks and boulders, jumping small cliffs, rushing past the sparse passers-by, and even crossing a small river. Somehow, even though Gyaretto was sure he had superior strength to these two delinquents, he was still always fifty or so feet behind. His leg was throbbing and if it didn't get some rest soon, he was concerned that there could be some permanent damage. But right now, he was more concerned with his dinner money....
The thieves were obviously not very smart, as they were staying together instead of splitting up - after all, he was only one man, and the odds that he would choose to follow the wrong one were fifty-fifty. But regardless, they were in excellent condition and were able to keep just out of his reach. He despises the use of such tactics, but he is desperate...he reaches behind himself and pulls out his 9mm, custom-fitted handgun. He takes aim and pulls the trigger.
Bullets are getting so expensive!
The younger man - the one that had rammed him - went down like a twenty-ton anvil and was quickly left behind by the older one. Gyaretto took aim again and pulled the trigger - this time only to disable. The bullet whizzed by the old man's leg and ricocheted off a nearby stone pillar.
Dammit. Running with a screwed up leg and aiming is harder than I thought it'd be.
This time, the man took heed of the fact that he was being shot at and ducked for cover in a low shack-like structure. Gyaretto couldn't see the man, and so he had no shot; but he knew that following the man would be his undoing. He stopped and, noting the building was enclosed on all sides except the one the man had run into, sat down to nurse his burning leg and think about what to do next.
As he sits and ponders the situation, ギャレット spots movement in the corner of his eye. He reluctantly follows the blur (for he doesn't want his money to run off), but is soon glad he did. It turned out to be a cat, but it ran straight into the shack and scared the man out of his hiding spot...right into Gyaretto's hands. Sheer dumb luck, but it worked.
"Where is it?"
The man remained silent, but only until his face had been slammed on a rock.
"I won't ask you again."
The man reached a bloody fist into his ragged pocket and pulled out a credit chip. ギャレット took it and dropped the man onto his face. He then got up, brushed himself off, put his hands in his pockets, and calmly walked away.
ギャレット strolled across the floor of the tavern like he owned the place. The pain in his leg had finally died, but now his shoulder was throbbing. He sat at the bar stool and signaled to the bartender.
"Strongest shit you have."
The bartender quietly pulled out a bottle from under the counter and began to pour a glass, but he was stopped by a hand on his arm.
"Just leave me the bottle."
The bartender took the hundred wulongs and walked to the other end of the bar to serve the other customers.
ギャレット took a sip of the drink and sighed. What was he going to do? He couldn't just keep walking forever, but he had to move on. Not until after he finished his drink, though. He took another swig. The bartender slowly approached him, turned his back, and quietly asked ギャレット, "You new in the area?"
ギャレット remained silent.
"You look like you been in a tight spot. You looking for anything? Anyone?"
The silence continued.
"Well, this place is sort of a central information booth. I know everyone within twenty miles, what he does to get by, and his grandmother's dog's name. I know who controls everything, and who flies under the radar. You need to know anything, you come ask me. But my services don't come free."
ギャレット finally acknowledged the bartender's presence with a wave of his hand, and he went back to his customers. So he had found his primary location for information. Perhaps he would be alright on this dustball for a little while. He took another swig of his drink.
Gyaretto walked out of the tavern and..."commandeered"...a random person's bike. He revved the engine and took off towards what the bartender (after a few more wulongs managed to pull the information out of him) said was a shop where he could find a cheap ship. Unfortunately, all he had to go on was a name and the color of the bulding. So. Here he was, with a direction and a color, hoping to find a needle in a haystack.
What am I going to do if everything is too expensive? My list of job skills is none too impressive.
He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that he had wandered off the beaten path. He had no clue where he was. And to top it all off, his GPS unit that was part of his ship had not only been damaged, but it was also thrown out of the ship on impact and now resided at the bottom of a rather deep lake. Which made it worth a grand total of jack-shit.
His trenchcoat was dragging on the rough wheel and being slowly tattered around the bottom...but he didn't really care about his appearence.
I really need to pay more attention while I'm thinking, he thought, as he continued to drive aimlessly.
I can't catch a break, he thought. Gyaretto got off his motor bike and walked up to the door of the dilapidated shop. He had been driving for what seemed like hours, but in reality had only been about thirty or forty-five minutes. The store was closed. Gyaretto cupped his hands around his face and peered through the small window in the door. The "Closed" sign was swaying back and forth, back and forth.... It was dark inside; he really couldn't see what was there. He could make out a shadow of a coat rack, casted by the light of a reddening, setting sun. But then the shadow moved, and Gyaretto got a sick feeling in his stomach.
Here we go....
His heart began to race at the prospect of a fight. His fists clenched, his legs began to quiver. He trembled slightly with excitement.... The shadow darted for the back door and flew out of the store like a bat out of hell. Gyaretto used his foot to break down the door and the chase was on.
Compared to the two men that had tried to steal his money earlier, this man was not a good runner. Gyaretto disappointedly caught up easily and cornered him in an alley. The man spoke in a hoarse, raspy voice that sounded like sandpaper on linoleum.
"What's the bounty on my head? Do you hear me?! At least tell me what I'm worth, you son-of-a-bitch!"
Gyaretto replied coldy... "I'm not after your bounty. All I want from you is a ship. Whatever you and the law have to do with each other, I've no interest in."
"LIAR!!" The man lurched at Gyaretto and struck with his fist.
Fast.
His punch was evaded with a slight movement to the right, but the man kicked and caught Gyaretto off-guard.
I wasn't expecting a match...perhaps this will be fun after all. Gyaretto took a step back, took a fighting stance, and spoke again. "I wasn't expecting you to know what you're doing. You won't catch me off-guard again. So. Do you still want to dance?"
The man lunged forward.
"Not even worth my time." The man fell to the ground, a bloody mess. His face looked like ground hamburger meat. Gyaretto's stomach rumbled. "It makes me even more depressed to think that you actually managed to land a blow on me." He spit on the ground next to the slightly moaning man. He then squatted down, picked up the man's face, and looked directly at it. "Now, how about that ship?"
The man gasped and almost seemed to chuckle slightly. "It's...not my...shop...."
Gyaretto sighed. Why me? "Well then who's is it? And why were you there?"
The man tried to look away. Gyaretto hit him again. The man coughed but remained silent. This is going to be a long night, he thought.
ギャレット had finally "extracted" the information he needed from his friend laying on the ground. It seemed that the store belonged to a Jordan Ghasten - and apparently the poor fool had gotten a little too close to the Red Dragon. Even here, the terrible Syndicate that ruled much of the crime on Mars had everyone by the throats. This was just a Syndicate scrub, a little man that was sent to do the dirty work. But Ghasten hadn't been there. There had been a note with one word written across it on the counter: "Jet."
But what did it mean? There was no way ギャレット could tell from this alone. He stepped over his buddy and walked back to the store. Perhaps there would be something of interest there.
As he stepped through the broken glass door, he noticed right away that his bartender had been right: This was going to be the place to find his wares. Machine parts littered the floor, and small trinkets and pieces of ships cluttered the walls. He walked behind the counter and poked around a little. Underneath the glass display he noticed a small button.
Curiosity killed the cat, he thought as he pushed it. A small clicking sound could be heard and when he looked behind him, ギャレット noticed a cupboard that hadn't been there before. He opened it - as it was now unlocked - and stood in awe at the abundance of weapons before him. Not being one to use a gun, he wasn't tempted to pick one up. It was a good thing, too. He heard sirens in the background, so he closed the cupboard, calmly pushed the button again, and walked out. On his way to the door, he noticed a small piece of paper near the phone, on which was scrawled "Ganymede." So. "Jet' and "Ganymede." What could they have to do with each other? And more importantly, when the hell was he going to get a ship?!