The Flight

[Hiro Protagonist]

The hacker had waited a bit, allowing other contestants to file onto the plane before boarding himself. He was stunned at the luxury and decor of the place. It was furnished better than some corporate headquarters, not that he'd seen too many of them....but it was more than extravagant. Greeted and directed by Syntech flight attendants wearing form fitting skirts and neon spandex tops, he made his way towards the main seating area and took a seat, buckling himself in. As the flight crew prepared for departure, he leafed through a magazine that he'd found in the seat pocket in front of him. It was called.....Play, Boy? 

"But why the comma....?" The samurai unfolded it and was mildly bemused to see that it was pretty much the same magazine as the brand in his home world. Little raunchy for an airline, but given what he'd seen of Karl Jak's mannerisms, it was only fitting. Eventually they took off, the plane roaring into the air amid heavy rain and thunder strikes. Some marvel of engineering prevented the passengers from feeling most of the turbulence, although the gyroscope filter in Hiro's goggles was displaying some worrying impacts. Syntech had spent a looooot of money on this plane, if it was taking heavy structural shaking like this.

Then all of a sudden, his perusal was interrupted by a question, asked by a voice laden with rust and decay.
 Hiro looked across the aisle towards the grating, buzzing sound, only to see that it was the rusted marine he'd identified earlier. 

"What brings me here? Hm....a desire to learn more about the Danteverse...an assignment from higher up....And you. You, Okor Paleblood, fugitive from the justice of Coruscant. I was hoping on finding others that had bounties, but uh..." He fiddles with his goggles. "You're a lot bigger and....virulent in person. So....that part's been called into question, now." Stupid. Stupid, stupid Hiro, trying to play it cool with the guy who was probably melting through the seat.

Oor laughed at that, a buzzing, thick, hacking issuing from his vox. "Is that so, now? Such a shame that most Primes lack true resolve. Does the prospect of combat and struggle frighten you, boy?"

The hacker ignored that last comment, making a few gestures in the air. Not much he could answer that with which would sound like anything other than an excuse. "More like lack of tactical awareness. In any case, I think you're here for similar unclear reasons. This is obviously more than it seems. So....I guess if you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours? Although, big tough Prime like you, I doubt anyone tells you to do anything." He should really stop taking his cues from those stupid action movies.

Okor's rusty voice came across the aisle once more, accompanied by a clanking, scraping sound as he turned in his seat. "A pact that benefits you more than... I, I wager.  I shall conduct myself as I please.... I don't believe I've caught your name."

The cyber samurai gave a nod, almost as if that only confirmed his earlier statement. "Protagonist. Hiro Protagonist." The scan he'd started a moment ago kicked into high spectrum analysis as he stared at the marine's form. His goggles began to feed him information, including energy spikes, program data (probably from that armor) and....wait....what was that?

There was a shape, hovering above/behind/around the plague soldier. Wispy, and semi-transparent, made of swirling, burning smoke and oily rags, stretched taut over rusty bits of metal and salvage. It has no real definition, it's edges bleeding into a void of sight, other similarly indistinct shapes flitting behind it. Surprise would be visible on Hiro's face, and he would actually go pale as the thing seemed to notice him, opening a mouth like a garbage disposal as two long, metallic fangs pistoned out of it's mouth and it made a sound like a collapsing building.


He got up out of his seat, possiby a bit too quickly, and jammed his hands in his jacket pockets to hide his nervous jitters. Giving the marine one last look, he backed away, facing him until Okor was out of sight. "Now, uh, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take advantage of the free drinks before it's time to get to work."

Okor laughed, distorted into a hiss by his static-suffused helmet. "Seek solace in liquid courage, Bounty Hunter." Another crash of thunder, closer to the plane than Okor would find comfortable. "You may yet have need of it."

Hiro was already down the hallway toward the staircase. Fucking christ, that guy was a creepshow! And he apparently had some sort of robot ghost as a pet or something. Hiro needed a stiff drink after a sight like that, and also to maybe quiet the fears that Okor would most definitely kill him if he tried to apprehend the diseased bastard.

Heading up a lavish spiral staircase, Hiro soon found himself at a curtained door, attended by a few Syntech staff and a bouncer. The sign said "VIP Club", and Hiro breathed a sigh of relief. Just the place to lose an hour or two to the haze of alcohol, cigarettes, and techno music.

Sunshine Slims, A Drink, and Maybe Some Women