01-17-2018, 07:19 PM
The ride down to these friends of Drake's took a little over twenty minutes, during which time very few words were exchanged. The fake cabbie had started some light music playing over the Skybike's stereo system, but this did very little to suppress the sense of being in an elevator with a stranger. The saddle of the Skybike was certainly large enough for two, but Pyrrha had to prop herself up somewhat uncomfortably to avoid laying down on Drake's back. This seemed odd for a taxi service, but the huntress reminded herself that she knew precious little about this world's culture or expectations. It didn't completely abolish the sense of unease from her mind, but she had been fighting against mutant, half-dead cannibal bush men not too long ago. Miss Nikos eventually decided it was better to stay relaxed around the openly helpful Drake, but remain on guard.
Though there was no direct reference for understanding their location, Drake and Pyrrha swooped into the skies of Tier Three, just in time to see the artificial sky cycle abruptly to a late afternoon setting. It was a tad disorienting for the Remnant native, but after an abrupt explanation from Drake on the Tiers of Coruscant and their artificial heavens, the concept in and of itself was not so difficult to grasp. What stunned Pyrrha was that a city could be so absolutely massive on the scale that such a thing was even needed. Eventually, Drake drew the Skybike to a stop outside a rather blasé looking brownstone apartment building.
"Here we are." he hummed, popping the canopy of the Skybike and granting the Huntress some much-needed personal breathing room. She turned to offer a hand to the one-armed man, but Drake had already hopped out of the saddle and was rummaging through the vehicle's small trunk for some grocery bags. Likewise, Pyrrha gathered her Xiphos and shield, and followed Drake as he sauntered into the modest housing.
"Third floor, number four." Drake said, rocking patiently back and forth on his heels. He walked straight past the rickety looking elevator for the stairs, and though the woman followed, she was curious.
"Is there something wrong with the elevator?" she asked. As she followed her cabbie, she could hear slight whirring coming from his legs as he scaled the creaking, carpeted steps.
"Nah, we just need to take the stairs so they know we're coming." he laughed. Pyrrha cocked her head slightly, but said nothing. Still, she thumbed her shield and weapon, ensuring that they could be drawn quickly if need be. As they reached the third, dimly lit floor, Drake produced a small keycard from his satchel (while somehow continuing to hold the rustling grocery bags with his single arm), and swiped it into the lock. It blinked green, but when Drake went to open the thick door, he found it had been chained shut.
He also found that, through the cracked door, there was a double-barreled shotgun leveled at his chest. He instinctively fell on his back just as the trigger was pulled and an immense blast shook the entire building. Pyrrha had her own rifle drawn in an instant, but before any fighting could begin, Drake shouted frantically.
"GODDAMIT MADGE I TOLD YOU I WAS GONNA COME BY TODAY YOU CRAZY CUNT."
There was silence for a moment.
"You said you were going to be alone, dearie. We heard two sets of feet. You told us–" said an elderly sounding voice from behind the door.
"I also told you to look before you shoot! God...DAMN." Drake grunted as he go back to his feet. He quickly gathered the various vegetables and herbs that had spilled from the bag before looking up at Pyrrha. Oh yeah. Her.
"What is going on?!" the huntress demanded, flicking her gun between the crouched cabbie and the geriatric woman in the doorway. Drake and the woman named Madge glanced at one another and began to stifle laughter as the old bag undid the safety chain.
"Well, these are my friends, Pyrrha. I should have warned you that they're a little, ehm, feisty." Drake said, gesturing to the interior of the apartment. Various women of all ages and description were lounging around on comfy looking couches, sipping tea, chatting, and doing various bits of fiddly craftwork. Only a few glanced at the doorway, as if they had only vaguely noticed the cacophanous shotgun report.
"Marjorie Hinchey, President of the Tier Three Suburban Women's Club. How do you do?" Madge said, stowing the firearm just around the side of the doorway and extending a hand towards the armed young Pyrrha.
Though there was no direct reference for understanding their location, Drake and Pyrrha swooped into the skies of Tier Three, just in time to see the artificial sky cycle abruptly to a late afternoon setting. It was a tad disorienting for the Remnant native, but after an abrupt explanation from Drake on the Tiers of Coruscant and their artificial heavens, the concept in and of itself was not so difficult to grasp. What stunned Pyrrha was that a city could be so absolutely massive on the scale that such a thing was even needed. Eventually, Drake drew the Skybike to a stop outside a rather blasé looking brownstone apartment building.
"Here we are." he hummed, popping the canopy of the Skybike and granting the Huntress some much-needed personal breathing room. She turned to offer a hand to the one-armed man, but Drake had already hopped out of the saddle and was rummaging through the vehicle's small trunk for some grocery bags. Likewise, Pyrrha gathered her Xiphos and shield, and followed Drake as he sauntered into the modest housing.
"Third floor, number four." Drake said, rocking patiently back and forth on his heels. He walked straight past the rickety looking elevator for the stairs, and though the woman followed, she was curious.
"Is there something wrong with the elevator?" she asked. As she followed her cabbie, she could hear slight whirring coming from his legs as he scaled the creaking, carpeted steps.
"Nah, we just need to take the stairs so they know we're coming." he laughed. Pyrrha cocked her head slightly, but said nothing. Still, she thumbed her shield and weapon, ensuring that they could be drawn quickly if need be. As they reached the third, dimly lit floor, Drake produced a small keycard from his satchel (while somehow continuing to hold the rustling grocery bags with his single arm), and swiped it into the lock. It blinked green, but when Drake went to open the thick door, he found it had been chained shut.
He also found that, through the cracked door, there was a double-barreled shotgun leveled at his chest. He instinctively fell on his back just as the trigger was pulled and an immense blast shook the entire building. Pyrrha had her own rifle drawn in an instant, but before any fighting could begin, Drake shouted frantically.
"GODDAMIT MADGE I TOLD YOU I WAS GONNA COME BY TODAY YOU CRAZY CUNT."
There was silence for a moment.
"You said you were going to be alone, dearie. We heard two sets of feet. You told us–" said an elderly sounding voice from behind the door.
"I also told you to look before you shoot! God...DAMN." Drake grunted as he go back to his feet. He quickly gathered the various vegetables and herbs that had spilled from the bag before looking up at Pyrrha. Oh yeah. Her.
"What is going on?!" the huntress demanded, flicking her gun between the crouched cabbie and the geriatric woman in the doorway. Drake and the woman named Madge glanced at one another and began to stifle laughter as the old bag undid the safety chain.
"Well, these are my friends, Pyrrha. I should have warned you that they're a little, ehm, feisty." Drake said, gesturing to the interior of the apartment. Various women of all ages and description were lounging around on comfy looking couches, sipping tea, chatting, and doing various bits of fiddly craftwork. Only a few glanced at the doorway, as if they had only vaguely noticed the cacophanous shotgun report.
"Marjorie Hinchey, President of the Tier Three Suburban Women's Club. How do you do?" Madge said, stowing the firearm just around the side of the doorway and extending a hand towards the armed young Pyrrha.
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