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CERES A cop walks into a bar and says...

Discussion in 'Private Roleplay' started by Lukas Forgrave, Jan 30, 2018.

  1. Lukas Forgrave

    Lukas Forgrave Scourge of the Water Pipes

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    With drink in hand, his blue gaze shifted from the belter to the former detective before falling to the floor as he thought. And took a silent sip of the alcohol.

    "Tot fong téngteng shetexe...yeah?" He stated quietly, remembering the reason why he had come to meet in this part of Ceres in the first place. "Cut his connections? Leave him in the vacuum with no air..." His gaze lifted to Siefbee, visibly irritated. He didn't like rehashing old shit that only felt like opening old wounds and he liked being judged for it even less. But right now, more than either of those things, he didn't like wasting his time. Not with Levi in the hospital, holding on by a thread.

    "I have no plan. Because his connections stretch across the entire station." He held the glass on his knee, his tone was ice. "Pier 1 to Forest Park...and everything in between. Without any attachments, I might have gone with my plan A. But as it stands, I'd be better off leaving Ceres altogether."

    When Sarah had died, Luka was stationed between here and Tycho. He could go back there, where Benton had no power. He could take those who mattered with him. And leave the station to rot. "But as you mentioned, Benton is bad for the Belt. And as much as I hate to admit it, I care about the Belt. So..." He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "I'm open to ideas."
     
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  2. CFB9

    CFB9 505

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    The man crosses his arms, expression shifting in the half light. Stubborn pashangwala pomang. Just listen to Siefbee. He always knows what’s best.

    [ For Siefbee, anyway. But some things don’t need saying.]

    “Kowl zlóchmang chikin.” He says it with the perfect confidence that comes from being one. “Chikin paranoit. Gif walowda otrow ere owkwa imalowda… unte vedi kelang konexshun imalowda ando xalte.”

    His smile is as broad as his arms as he spreads them again. The eternal gesture of benevolence. He is anything but, and everyone at the table knows it. But pretending is half the fun, isn’t it?

    Milowda yedwa gonya mowsh ge mani milowda dirti.”
     
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  3. Lukas Forgrave

    Lukas Forgrave Scourge of the Water Pipes

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    As far as Luka was concerned, this was no more helpful than opening a fortune cookie and using that as a basis for taking down Benton and the Bough. Except for one bit: Benton wasn't a coward. It was the only reason he had lived through the gunshot meant for him when he was very young.

    Luka had looked into his eyes and when he was dying, Benton smiled and laughed and opened his arms to the vacuum. So if he was a coward, it wasn't fear for death that guided him. Perhaps loss of all the things he had earned.

    "That's all well and good..." Luka replied as he took a drink of the alcohol, stirring it about. "But until that precipitates into something palpable, well..." We're left with useless ideology. That was where his sentence was going. But he stopped, recalling what had happened prior to the two men meeting.

    "You ever heard of Royal Charter Energy?"
     
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  4. CFB9

    CFB9 505

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    The man hides his growing frown behind the lip of the glass. It twinkles like mushroom grog, has the same color, the same odor – but it’s owkwa. Smoking, yes, but alcohol on the job? No more than one drink. The bruisers, the gunslingers, they can drink. But Siefbee needs his wits about him far too much to risk reducing the code to a blur of ones and zeroes.

    So, owkwa.

    He sets down the tumbler and tilts his head to the side. If they were in a gay bar and not here, he’d look right at home.

    “Fo sho. Keting ere im?”
     
  5. Lukas Forgrave

    Lukas Forgrave Scourge of the Water Pipes

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    "Hmm." Siefbee knew all about Luka's golden jaw but hadn't looked into why the detective had received that. Put his nose somewhere where it evidently hadn't belonged. Sure, the man had gotten his own bit of licks in but at the end of the day, he was up against multiple people. Benton and Sikes included.

    "Michael Kronowsky was meeting with Benton and some crooked cops up in the plaza, a day prior to riots initiated by the MCRN...when that belter got killed." He looked up from his drink, stirring it some more. "Whatever they were doing there, they didn't want me seeing. Which makes me think Kronowsky was looking to give some scrip for services." It was an assumption but Benton never went anywhere if it didn't benefit him in some way.

    "Looked in to Kronowsky. Diverse portfolio as a boardmember for Royal Charters, close friend of the Governor. An informant for the Bough told us that they refer to him as one of the...monies." Luka let out a sigh as he finished off his drink, evidently having difficulty becoming intoxicated. If anything, he just seemed to get more talkative. Of course, he failed to mention that that particular informant was a certain ink covered belter who had a habit of working a bar called purgatory.

    "I've no doubt that Benton has many means of income, but it may be worth looking into..." It could be a start, anyway.
     
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  6. CFB9

    CFB9 505

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    His eyebrows do a brief dance. The man sips more of his drink – steals the time to think.

    Aliss doesn’t.

    “You want to tango with Kronowsky? Fuckin’ hell Forgrave.”

    He slides his eyes sideways. She’s leaning forward, hands braced on knees, brow furrowed, mouth curled. But there’s a glint in her eyes now. Like she’s impressed. Like she’s got a deathwish too.

    The man continues to sip.

    “And the Guv ain’t the only friend up high Kronowsky’s got.” Aliss exhales and runs a hand through her short hair. “But maybe…” she trails off again as she downs the rest of her drink.

    Siefbee slinks back into the conversation, pale gaze flicking to the zakomang.

    “Da ting de imim kang du. Amash milowda na kang du suchok wit Kronowsky. Sherú wit Benton, unte ando xalte deya.” He frowns a little, holding Forgrave’s gaze in the darkness. “Mi gonya vedi sili Royal Charters—”

    “Wait, hold on. My old partner works private security in their building. How much can you find if I get you direct access?”

    The man can’t help the grin that splits his metal face. “Kowlting.”

    “While he snoops around in their systems… how about you and me do some old-fashioned, boots-on-the-ground digging around?” Aliss turns to the zakomang again as the man disappears into his code. “I know a couple places Bough used to use back when. Weren’t so thorough before Benton. Might’ve left a few treasures behind for us.”
     
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  7. Lukas Forgrave

    Lukas Forgrave Scourge of the Water Pipes

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    The day had been rough on the detective. He had grown attached to Levi and Mamen, more than he cared to admit openly at this point, and had seen the affects of her treatment from Benton. Beaten, raped, nearly killed, all with Sikes being run as the lead detective. People were bought out, people were keeping their mouth shut, and people were spreading rumors that this sort of thing was what Levi was into. She wanted it, she liked this sort of treatment and in turn, Purgatory was going to deny medical coverage.

    So telling the Detective what to do, what to focus on, wasn't the best route for a pair that were so freshly friendly. It was fortunate that Aliss was there to distract Luka from the misstep.

    But perhaps, given Luka's indifference to the connections of a rich inner, it was apparent that he had very little regard for his own well being.

    "I'll tango with whoever it takes to put Benton in the black..." He stated, more confident than he should have been. It was an uphill battle and there were no mountains in Ceres. Just a rock and the vacuum of space. But it would be good to have some help from a information broker and a former detective. "I've never been to the building. I'd love to see it." There was a fire in his bright blue eyes. And the consumption of alcohol was quickly removing any fucks he had left to give.
     
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  8. CFB9

    CFB9 505

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    “To ando pochuye mi, zákomang nakangepensa?!”

    His eyes flash a dangerous white as he leans forward over the table. Rape or not, beatings or not, rushing head-first through the wall and into full-auto crossfire won’t solve anything. Metal teeth grind against one another as the man drums out the flash of anger against his glass.

    This, too, won’t solve anything.

    Sili to wanya aiut métexeng to, go wit Aliss.” He drowns the remainder of the drink and stands. “To kang kom du auge ere da edifis da Kronowsky detim imim finyish du.”

    “Gonya fang to leyta, Xeschter.”
    “But—”
    Xalte im fast.”

    The protest dies on her lips as the man fades into the epileptic lightshow on the stairs. She turns back to Forgrave with a wry smile. “How about it then, detective?”
     
  9. Lukas Forgrave

    Lukas Forgrave Scourge of the Water Pipes

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    Siefbee was making a clear mistake. Namely thinking that he was in charge. Of the situation, the investigation, and more importantly - of Luka. The detective wasn't one to have bouts of stupidity but perhaps it was a good thing that the Belta was leaving quickly after making his comments.

    Luka was already standing up and dusting off his jacket by the time the woman was turning to him. Pressing his hands slowly down the worn leather of the jacket, he watched as a sheen formed in its wake before his calloused fingers reached into the pocket and pulled out a nearly empty pack of cigarettes. Placing one in his lips, he looked the woman up and down.

    "What does he have on you?" The detective chuckled and shook his head, lighting the piece between cupped hands. For a moment, it was brighter there than the lightshow around them. "Scratch that." Taking a long drag, he exhaled out of his nose as he pocketed both hands in pockets that were just a tad too small. "Not sure I really care."

    Scratching his brow, unsure of why the man would refer to Levi as his girl, he thought for a moment. Sure, they had knocked boots and he cared about the woman, but neither of them were the sort for ownership. He was just angry now. At the cyberwired belta who had gotten a bit too big for his britches, at Benton, at that freckled fuck of a cop, at himself. At the station.

    Wordless, he turned to make his way out of the club. Maybe he'd let Aliss show him the way. Or maybe he'd fuck off to do exactly what he had planned all along. The night was suddenly young.

    @CFB9
     
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