07-11-2018, 12:21 PM
By the time Oneir started to receive the phone call, he was already passing The Town with No Name on the Dunes freeway that stretched all the way from Carrefore to Nippur. Granted, it was a freeway in a strictly relative sense; more literally it was a somewhat consistent dirt road about thirty feet across. Still, it was better than the usual roughage and dune rims that Drake had to kick the Ibis over. The smuggler loved a good stunt exhibition just as much as any ex-spacer, but fifty times in a row to get between two points in the Dunes did sometimes become a bit arduous.
A small ringing noise issued forth from the speakers within the Ibis' sealed cockpit, abruptly cutting off the jovial singing of Louis Prima. It was coming from Scootz, his lab contact in Carrefore. Awfully interesting timing, there. Drake kept his eyes on the road ahead, illuminated in sharp white contrast by the Skybike's blinding LED headlights. He gently swerved the Ibis to avoid bits of debris or potholes as they flashed by like flirtatious ghosts in the dead of desert night, and adjusted the tone of his voice to one of calm congeniality.
"Hello Scootz, this is Pariah. I was just thinking about you." Drake said in a soft, lilting tone. He had never met he narcotic chemist in person, so he was going to try and maintain his persona of a conniving, small time Nippur physician as long as possible. Drake was, of course, also aware that the call could be tapped or, perhaps, that he was not talking to Scootz. When dealing in this sort of arena, however, every move was calculated, and the responding voice told Drake quite a bit as a result.
"Ah. No. This is not Scootz, I'm afraid. Tall chap, fair skin? Tattoo across his left jaw?" the voice said. It had an odd, thrumming quality to it. Throaty in a way that reminded Drake of talking to someone with voice distortion. It didn't sound like voice distortion, however. Whoever they were, they were certainly polite.
"Could've been. What's he look like now?" Drake queried, trying to suppress an surprising jolt of anger. Vigilante. Had to be. Goddamit.
"Well, much the same, aside from a structurally superfluous hole in his ribcage. Not my doing, though I did my best to help. Wrong place and time, and all the rest of it." the voice sighed, sounded every bit as weary as Drake. A long moment passed before the smuggler responded. This was because he was tracing the location of the call using the Ibis' onboard guidance software. Bugging many thousands of dollars worth of narcotics with a beaconed burner phone was just good business, after all.
"And you found his phone...?"
"In his pocket, where else? I figured someone should be notified."
"You're in Carrefore, currently?"
"Indeed."
"We should meet up. I'll need to...see his body." Drake said with a certain note of finality. Bishop to E-Four. How might the dusky-voiced stranger respond?
A small ringing noise issued forth from the speakers within the Ibis' sealed cockpit, abruptly cutting off the jovial singing of Louis Prima. It was coming from Scootz, his lab contact in Carrefore. Awfully interesting timing, there. Drake kept his eyes on the road ahead, illuminated in sharp white contrast by the Skybike's blinding LED headlights. He gently swerved the Ibis to avoid bits of debris or potholes as they flashed by like flirtatious ghosts in the dead of desert night, and adjusted the tone of his voice to one of calm congeniality.
"Hello Scootz, this is Pariah. I was just thinking about you." Drake said in a soft, lilting tone. He had never met he narcotic chemist in person, so he was going to try and maintain his persona of a conniving, small time Nippur physician as long as possible. Drake was, of course, also aware that the call could be tapped or, perhaps, that he was not talking to Scootz. When dealing in this sort of arena, however, every move was calculated, and the responding voice told Drake quite a bit as a result.
"Ah. No. This is not Scootz, I'm afraid. Tall chap, fair skin? Tattoo across his left jaw?" the voice said. It had an odd, thrumming quality to it. Throaty in a way that reminded Drake of talking to someone with voice distortion. It didn't sound like voice distortion, however. Whoever they were, they were certainly polite.
"Could've been. What's he look like now?" Drake queried, trying to suppress an surprising jolt of anger. Vigilante. Had to be. Goddamit.
"Well, much the same, aside from a structurally superfluous hole in his ribcage. Not my doing, though I did my best to help. Wrong place and time, and all the rest of it." the voice sighed, sounded every bit as weary as Drake. A long moment passed before the smuggler responded. This was because he was tracing the location of the call using the Ibis' onboard guidance software. Bugging many thousands of dollars worth of narcotics with a beaconed burner phone was just good business, after all.
"And you found his phone...?"
"In his pocket, where else? I figured someone should be notified."
"You're in Carrefore, currently?"
"Indeed."
"We should meet up. I'll need to...see his body." Drake said with a certain note of finality. Bishop to E-Four. How might the dusky-voiced stranger respond?
![[Image: screen_shot_2018_02_16_at_4_33_57_pm_by_...c3dkog.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/883e/f/2018/047/1/d/screen_shot_2018_02_16_at_4_33_57_pm_by_tearen_and_zearen-dc3dkog.png)