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Friends Like These (Quiz 221)


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#1 Guest_AlphaMonkey_*

Posted 17 May 2011 - 06:29 PM

Your Daily Serving of Notemeal:

1. Props to Nazlan for the idea of Sanik and Sime being friends. Her entry a couple of months ago sparked this.

2. Yes, I started this back in March. My writing's gotten -really- slow. :( But at least I've gotten this first section to a point where I'm pretty happy with it. Hopefully it was worth the wait. (Not that anyone really knew they were waiting for it...)

3. Thanks to Viga for help hashing out the plot. Conspirators unite! Let's blow up a Chantry! I mean... er... what?! (Cough.)

-----

The Vulgar Monkey
Nizina City
Planet Brynnlaw
Nelanther Expanse
8 Tarsakh, FY (Faerunian Year) 2256
0041 Hours, Local Standard


“She’s a high-priced call girl!”

“So were you, once!”

“I was never- you be quiet now.”

The alley behind the Vulgar Monkey often bore witness to drunken, angry bickering – especially drunken, angry bickering between couples. These two weren’t a couple, but no one passing by could tell the difference. That worked in their favor.

“C’mon, Sime, I need your help here. These people are trying to -kill- me. Or did you somehow forget about the Imperium goon who just tried to put three neurotox darts into my neck back in that bar?”

The Monkey was a popular night club. It wasn’t picky about its clientele. It played thrash music. It served drinks.

It saw its share of murder attempts.

But sometimes, if the maintenance staff were lucky, they could get through a night without having to clean up after a corpse. Tonight was proving lucky so far.

Sime had spotted the assassin coming out of one of the club’s back rooms, had seen the telltale outline of a wrist-mounted launcher on his right forearm, and had “subtly” managed to discourage him from making his move by smashing her cocktail glass into his face.

She’d apologized profusely, of course, even graciously offering to pull the teeny shards of broken glass out of the would-be assassin’s eyelids herself. He’d declined, oddly enough, and done his level best to flee the scene before making himself even more of a public spectacle than he already had. She’d done the same once the crowd’s attention had swung back to more important things: the music, the alcohol, the illicit drugs, and the intense moral depravity going on behind the heavy embersilk curtains over on the other side of the room.

Which led to her current situation, vis-à-vis the alley. “I’m on a -job,- Sanik,” she said. “I can’t just drop everything to help smuggle you and your Shmooples off-planet.”

“And if you don’t, I’m a dead man. This is my -life- we’re talking about. Please. I don’t have anyone else to ask. I need this favor.”

She grimaced. There were times when she wished she’d done what so many others in her line of work had: burned all bridges, made no friends, kept things strictly professional. But no – she had to do the stupid thing. Where others would work alone, she’d take on a partner. Where others would have contacts, she had -friends.- And the problem with friends was sometimes, they needed you. She looked him right in the eye. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Damn it.”

“Does that mean you’ll help?”

“No, I’m going to let you and your hooker get assassinated by an Imperium hit squad. Of course I’ll help. Geez.”

“Stop calling her that. Her name is Claire.”

“Fine. Claire.” She sighed again, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. It didn’t help any that despite the specter of impending death hanging over his head, Sanik was grinning like a lunatic at her. “And stop smiling like that. It’s getting on my nerves.” She shook her head, the first faint inklings of a plan already starting to take shape in her head. “I’m going to need some time to get some stuff together.”

That irritating smile of his grew wider and he led her out of the alley, around the corner to where he’d parked his hover-speeder. The car was dirty, bulky, and very non-descript: good for tradecraft. Say what you liked about the man, but for the most part, he knew how to blend in – his flings with exotic call-girls notwithstanding. “I kinda had a feeling your conscience would get the better of you once you heard the story, so I took the liberty of gathering some supplies beforehand. They’re in the trunk.”

She eyed the speeder’s cargo compartment warily.

Sanik continued as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction. “It’ll be great. Just like that thing with the thing and the other thing. You know, like back on Corsica?”

Lances of pain were firing up her sinuses now and detonating somewhere behind her eyes. “Sanik, getting chased by angry cybernetic monkeys wielding laser pistols is not my idea of a good time.”

“That’s what the stuff inside the trunk is for.”

She lifted the lid and peered inside. The storage compartment was literally filled to the brim with rolls of silver-sheened duct tape.

“See? Just like on Corsica.”

“-Crap.-“

-----

Donovan Apartments
Nizina City
Thirty Minutes Later…


“Do you have -anything- in your fridge other than beer and yogurt?”

“No.”

Sanik grumbled and shut the refrigerator door in disgust.

“All right, let’s go over this again.” Almost immediately realizing that Plan A – kill all the bad guys until they die from it – was inherently flawed, they’d gone back to Sime’s apartment to regroup and rethink their strategy.

“I don’t know what more I can tell you, Sime.”

Sime stretched out across the apartment’s well-appointed couch, reveling in the feel of genuine Cormyrian leather shifting underneath her as the couch responded almost organically to her movements. For all the day to day hardships involved with her job, she had to admit the perks were spectacular. The organization she worked for spared absolutely no expense when it came to furnishing their safehouses. She propped a cushion into the little sweet spot at the arch of her back, sighed luxuriously and then popped the top on her container of strawberry yogurt. If not for that whole nagging business with one of her friends being marked for death, she was all set for a rather nice, quiet night in. “You can start with what possessed you to fall for one of Galvena’s girls,” she said, her mouth half full.

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Sanik replied with a shrug. He was perched on a nearby window sill, his head turned so he could look out over the sprawling city below. In addition to being exorbitantly furnished, the apartment featured a breathtaking view of Nizina at night: residential lights, high profile advertising, and the constant, chaotic swirl of commuter traffic flitting through the skies.

“The ‘heart?’”

“Stop that.” She might’ve been amused at her bald-faced innuendo, but he, not so much.

“I’m just saying-“

“I love her.”

Sime knew he was serious. It was foolish. But love was foolish. Sime knew that, too. And for that reason, she couldn’t help ribbing him just a little bit more. “Because she can tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue.”

“No, not because she can- wait, she can do that?”

She smirked.

He sighed wearily. “I’m serious. She’s a sweet girl, and she deserves better than the life she’s got. I just… I just wanted to get her away from all of this. I know crossing Galvena is stupid. And if I could’ve gotten us out of this mess myself, I would’ve.” He looked at his hands, as if the solution would present itself in the lines of his palms, like reading the stock ticker at the bottom of a holonewscast.

She shook her head, smiling wryly at herself, at Sanik, at the whole crazy mess. “I know, I know. I’m just having a hard time figuring out how you expect us to steal a woman right out from under the nose of the most powerful madam in the entire city. Maybe even the planet.”

“We’ll think of something?”

She snorted. “We’d better.” She polished off her yogurt, and without getting up, pitched the empty container and disposable spoon into the trash. “So, you dig up anything good on her?”

“I’m not sure if there’s anything here we can use.” Sanik had moved over into a comfortable armchair next to the couch. In his lap was a small but powerful computer. His eyes flashed back and forth over the screen as he skimmed through a whole host of files he’d managed to scrounge up. “It’s all about what you’d expect. Most of the sex trade in the city goes through her. Her reputation’s solid. Enough so that no one else is willing to set up shop in town and try to muscle in on her business. No one’s dumb enough to mess with her. Well, no one other than me, anyway.”

Sime pursed her lips together, tapping her fingertips against them as she thought. “That hitter she sent after you was pretty serious. I thought I saw a House Despana tattoo on his hand.” She frowned. “Those guys are professionals, they don’t work for just anyone. The Drow have got to be backing her.”

“Imperium backs just about every major criminal enterprise on Brynnlaw,” Sanik said, his brow furrowed slightly. “They’ve got their sticky little Drow paws into everything out here. But yeah, I saw some stuff in here that suggests she might be in bed with them. Uh, figuratively speaking, of course. Why?”

She stood up and stretched, a sudden and wolfish smile cutting across her face. “Might be able to use that. I think I’ve got an idea.”

-----

Donovan Apartments
Nizina City
Planet Brynnlaw
Nelanther Expanse
Twenty Hours Later…


Brynnlaw was located in the Nelanther Expanse – the Nelanther Expanse being a stretch of sparsely populated space bordering the Torillian Confederation and the Drow Imperium. The Expanse had been named for Osik Nelanther: an intrepid explorer who had brought his small survey ship the Fair Wind and its crew of a dozen brave souls out where no one from the Confederation had ever gone before. They had set out in search of new life and new civilizations… and had found utter boredom.

The first few months of their tour had been mind-numbingly dull – filled with makework geological surveys, the drudgery of stellar cartography and endless hours spent within the confines of their claustrophobic little vessel. The crew was on the verge of pointing their ship into the nearest star and just -being done with it- when they finally encountered another manned spacecraft out in the empty wastes of space. Filled with the faint stirrings of hope that maybe their voyage hadn’t been a complete waste of six long, dreary months, they hailed it, only to receive no response. This was… disappointing. But expected.

And even if they couldn’t establish communications right away, this was still first contact with a new civilization. It was the sociological find of the century, perhaps even the millennium. As such, Nelanther had, as was the custom when first attempting communication with a new species, left his ship motionless in space and flashed his docking lights in a steady pattern meant to signify “Greetings. We mean you no harm.”

He and his crew waited several hours. There was still no response from the other vessel. They waited several more hours.

Finally, the other vessel opened fire, utterly destroying the Fair Wind in a single salvo and scattering its component atoms across the entire star system.

Diplomatic relations between the Confederation and the Drow Imperium have been in steady decline since that point.

However, despite the rather… lukewarm nature of their first encounter, the Confederation and the Imperium never went to war. Not officially, at any rate. There were border skirmishes here and there, the occasional ship captain glaring at his opposing number over a bank of heated laser cannons, even a few dozen shipkiller torpedoes fired in anger from time to time, but never anything -serious.-

And a sort of uneasy truce settled over the two nations. Then, as often happens when two large spacefaring civilizations share borders, settlements sprang up. Settlements like Brynnlaw. Some – most, in fact – stay small… better to remain off the radar that way, especially when your main reason for being is to facilitate the trafficking of goods and services between powers that don’t officially have trade agreements. As a for instance.

Brynnlaw, however, had applied a far more different philosophy: “Refuge in audacity.” The planet had become a haven for less than legal activity, indeed its entire infrastructure was built around “trade.” Trading of just about everything. On the surface, the restrictions were just enough to keep the hidebound and puritanical lawmakers in the Confederation from sending in the Marines to raze the place to the ground and cleanse it of its filth: no slaves, no WMDs. But even those could be had on Brynnlaw if one knew where to look.

And to add an air of ostensible respectability, Brynnlaw had opened its doors to “legitimate” corporations as well, many of which had accepted and set up outposts on the planet. The benefits of doing so had been extremely self-evident: being so far off the beaten path meant that the normal laws that governed commerce tended to be much more… relaxed.

All this fostered an atmosphere that people like Sime tended to thrive in; it was the type of environment that kept her very, very busy. After all, war, even the corporate kind, was good for business.

This evening, though, she would be doing something very different. This one would be off the books, and while she’d planned the operation as meticulously as she would have any other, it just wasn’t the same.

Galvena was smart, she was ruthless. She had a veritable army of goons at her beck and call. The resources Sime would be up against were considerable: in every way a match for the opposition she usually found herself pitted against on one of her normal jobs. She’d matched wits with all manner of corporate security, bumped heads with PMCs. Getting captured or even shot in her line of work was always an occupational hazard, but there tended to be rules about that sort of thing.

With Galvena’s thugs, though, she couldn’t be so sure those rules would still apply, and that worried her. She wouldn’t be lifting internal memos on the development of a new technology. She wouldn’t be making off with the latest profit analyses on how a particular commodity was trading. This wasn’t even something as mundane as engineering a “malfunction” in some brand new prototype manufacturing plant. This job could really piss someone off.

And as Sanik had already clearly established, angering the wrong people on Brynnlaw drastically reduced one’s odds of living to old age.

Sime sighed. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. The plan may not have been to shoot everything until it stopped moving, but there was still no sense in going in improperly armed. Thankfully, not only had her employers seen fit to provide her with a lavishly appointed safehouse, they’d paid just as much attention to the armory tucked behind a secret set of panels in the bedroom. The hidden compartment was filled to bursting with weapons both ordinary and exotic – a treasure trove of destruction and mayhem.

Her eyes lit up as they perused the selection: everything from compact plasma pistols to high-powered Gauss rifles. Microfilament garrotes to a pair of wicked-looking curved Zsinj daggers.

She had to laugh, though, at what some of the provisioners had thought prudent to include. If there ever came a time when she’d need a Gondian Mechanoworks X-47 Thermite Launcher, the situation had likely gone well past salvaging.

Oversized flamethrowers were hardly her style, anyway. She preferred something a little subtler: like the tiny palm-sized holdout gun made from advanced plastics that could be easily slipped into a woman’s clutch and would be completely undetectable by most modern weapons scanners. It only held a few shots and its range was poor, but it was lethal if aimed properly and no louder than a whisper.

Sometimes, though, leaving a trail of bodies behind you as you went wasn’t the wisest course of action. And for those rare, cherished moments, she favored a compact stun baton of Imperium make. It was affectionately known in wetworks circles as “The Humbler.” While most Imperium devices of this type simply caused the subject enough pain to make him keel over, (Pain was the Drow’s preferred method for -everything,- after all,) some of their weapons manufacturers had realized that an effort needed to be made to appeal to more… discerning clients. A research team at Aratech Enterprises had developed a different mechanism for non-lethal subjugations – a mechanism that they’d been all too proud to incorporate into The Humbler.

The weapon emitted a high voltage, low amperage electrical current on contact which disrupted a target’s natural neuromuscular impulses and quickly, if not necessarily completely safely, rendered them immobile and helpless.

It was old technology, but still surprisingly effective, even across a great number of different species. Aratech had even gone one better and refined the technique to reduce most of the… unsavory side effects. Early field tests had reported an almost complete elimination of urinary incontinence on test specimens in comparison to earlier models.

Sime grinned to herself as she buckled the stun baton into a custom-built thigh holster, then reached for one last thing: the deadliest tool, by far, in her arsenal.

It hung in her closet. She’d commissioned this piece some time back from an ancient (ancient even by elven standards) and cranky elven seamstress who lived in Nizina. But ancient and cranky though she was, she was the best at her work – the absolute best.

Sime carefully unzipped the garment bag and eased the dress out from inside. It was black, like the best dresses always were. A slinky, black cocktail dress – the LBD, Little Black Dress: the fashion equivalent of nuclear weapons; public lingerie; effective not because of what it was, but what it wasn’t. You had to have the legs and the body to wear an LBD. She did.

Sime slid into the dress as if it had been made for her. (It had, but that was beside the point.) She wrapped the holster for the stun baton high up around her thigh. (The hem of the dress came down just far enough to hide it.) She stepped into her shoes, she eyed herself in the mirror, fiddled with her hair a bit, checked her makeup. She nodded to herself. Everything just so.

Sanik drifted in from the other room and let out a low whistle. “Wow.”

She smirked, pointing at something in his hand. “Is that it?”

He nodded, holding out a small rectangular device about the size of her thumb. “Everything you need’s on here.” He dropped it into her open palm.

“Then I have a party to attend.”

#2 Guest_Blue-Inked_Frost_*

Posted 19 May 2011 - 03:21 AM

It was fun to see more Sime showing up in the stories here, and Sanik. The duct tape made me laugh. :) It's interesting to read the premise of this alternative-universe setting and see the science fiction combined with the characters. A nice, solid beginning for this caper fic!

#3 Guest_VigaHrolf_*

Posted 22 May 2011 - 09:07 PM

Your Daily Serving of Notemeal:


Comes with all those vital nutrients a reader needs...

“C’mon, Sime, I need your help here. These people are trying to -kill- me. Or did you somehow forget about the Imperium goon who just tried to put three neurotox darts into my neck back in that bar?”


Usually a good indicator that someone wants you dead.

Sime had spotted the assassin coming out of one of the club’s back rooms, had seen the telltale outline of a wrist-mounted launcher on his right forearm, and had “subtly” managed to discourage him from making his move by smashing her cocktail glass into his face.

She’d apologized profusely, of course, even graciously offering to pull the teeny shards of broken glass out of the would-be assassin’s eyelids herself. He’d declined, oddly enough, and done his level best to flee the scene before making himself even more of a public spectacle than he already had. She’d done the same once the crowd’s attention had swung back to more important things: the music, the alcohol, the illicit drugs, and the intense moral depravity going on behind the heavy embersilk curtains over on the other side of the room.


The kind of subtle method where obvious is nuking the planet from orbit. :) But still works.

Which led to her current situation, vis-à-vis the alley. “I’m on a -job,- Sanik,” she said. “I can’t just drop everything to help smuggle you and your Shmooples off-planet.”


Ahh, pet names.

She grimaced. There were times when she wished she’d done what so many others in her line of work had: burned all bridges, made no friends, kept things strictly professional. But no – she had to do the stupid thing. Where others would work alone, she’d take on a partner. Where others would have contacts, she had -friends.- And the problem with friends was sometimes, they needed you. She looked him right in the eye. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Damn it.”


Sime (Aly-verse): "Tell me about it."

That irritating smile of his grew wider and he led her out of the alley, around the corner to where he’d parked his hover-speeder. The car was dirty, bulky, and very non-descript: good for tradecraft. Say what you liked about the man, but for the most part, he knew how to blend in – his flings with exotic call-girls notwithstanding. “I kinda had a feeling your conscience would get the better of you once you heard the story, so I took the liberty of gathering some supplies beforehand. They’re in the trunk.”

She eyed the speeder’s cargo compartment warily.

Sanik continued as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction. “It’ll be great. Just like that thing with the thing and the other thing. You know, like back on Corsica?”

Lances of pain were firing up her sinuses now and detonating somewhere behind her eyes. “Sanik, getting chased by angry cybernetic monkeys wielding laser pistols is not my idea of a good time.”


I think only Minsc could find that a good time. Because Boo would LOVE IT.

Donovan Apartments
Nizina City
Thirty Minutes Later…


Hrmm... reference maybe?

“Do you have -anything- in your fridge other than beer and yogurt?”

“No.”


Getting the strong sense there's a reference here. :)

Sime stretched out across the apartment’s well-appointed couch, reveling in the feel of genuine Cormyrian leather shifting underneath her as the couch responded almost organically to her movements. For all the day to day hardships involved with her job, she had to admit the perks were spectacular. The organization she worked for spared absolutely no expense when it came to furnishing their safehouses. She propped a cushion into the little sweet spot at the arch of her back, sighed luxuriously and then popped the top on her container of strawberry yogurt. If not for that whole nagging business with one of her friends being marked for death, she was all set for a rather nice, quiet night in. “You can start with what possessed you to fall for one of Galvena’s girls,” she said, her mouth half full.


Nicer couch though... but this -is- Sime. She'd have a nice couch.

“I love her.”

Sime knew he was serious. It was foolish. But love was foolish. Sime knew that, too. And for that reason, she couldn’t help ribbing him just a little bit more. “Because she can tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue.”

“No, not because she can- wait, she can do that?”


Great line, made even better that random chance had thrown your 'strawberry' icon up when I read through. :)

Sime pursed her lips together, tapping her fingertips against them as she thought. “That hitter she sent after you was pretty serious. I thought I saw a House Despana tattoo on his hand.” She frowned. “Those guys are professionals, they don’t work for just anyone. The Drow have got to be backing her.”

“Imperium backs just about every major criminal enterprise on Brynnlaw,” Sanik said, his brow furrowed slightly. “They’ve got their sticky little Drow paws into everything out here. But yeah, I saw some stuff in here that suggests she might be in bed with them. Uh, figuratively speaking, of course. Why?”

She stood up and stretched, a sudden and wolfish smile cutting across her face. “Might be able to use that. I think I’ve got an idea.”


:D

Brynnlaw was located in the Nelanther Expanse – the Nelanther Expanse being a stretch of sparsely populated space bordering the Torillian Confederation and the Drow Imperium. The Expanse had been named for Osik Nelanther: an intrepid explorer who had brought his small survey ship the Fair Wind and its crew of a dozen brave souls out where no one from the Confederation had ever gone before. They had set out in search of new life and new civilizations… and had found utter boredom.

The first few months of their tour had been mind-numbingly dull – filled with makework geological surveys, the drudgery of stellar cartography and endless hours spent within the confines of their claustrophobic little vessel. The crew was on the verge of pointing their ship into the nearest star and just -being done with it- when they finally encountered another manned spacecraft out in the empty wastes of space. Filled with the faint stirrings of hope that maybe their voyage hadn’t been a complete waste of six long, dreary months, they hailed it, only to receive no response. This was… disappointing. But expected.

And even if they couldn’t establish communications right away, this was still first contact with a new civilization. It was the sociological find of the century, perhaps even the millennium. As such, Nelanther had, as was the custom when first attempting communication with a new species, left his ship motionless in space and flashed his docking lights in a steady pattern meant to signify “Greetings. We mean you no harm.”

He and his crew waited several hours. There was still no response from the other vessel. They waited several more hours.

Finally, the other vessel opened fire, utterly destroying the Fair Wind in a single salvo and scattering its component atoms across the entire star system.

Diplomatic relations between the Confederation and the Drow Imperium have been in steady decline since that point.


As I said before, brilliant bit there.

All this fostered an atmosphere that people like Sime tended to thrive in; it was the type of environment that kept her very, very busy. After all, war, even the corporate kind, was good for business.

This evening, though, she would be doing something very different. This one would be off the books, and while she’d planned the operation as meticulously as she would have any other, it just wasn’t the same.

Galvena was smart, she was ruthless. She had a veritable army of goons at her beck and call. The resources Sime would be up against were considerable: in every way a match for the opposition she usually found herself pitted against on one of her normal jobs. She’d matched wits with all manner of corporate security, bumped heads with PMCs. Getting captured or even shot in her line of work was always an occupational hazard, but there tended to be rules about that sort of thing.

With Galvena’s thugs, though, she couldn’t be so sure those rules would still apply, and that worried her. She wouldn’t be lifting internal memos on the development of a new technology. She wouldn’t be making off with the latest profit analyses on how a particular commodity was trading. This wasn’t even something as mundane as engineering a “malfunction” in some brand new prototype manufacturing plant. This job could really piss someone off.


Sime: "Also known in the vernacular as Fun."

She had to laugh, though, at what some of the provisioners had thought prudent to include. If there ever came a time when she’d need a Gondian Mechanoworks X-47 Thermite Launcher, the situation had likely gone well past salvaging.


When you absolutely, positively have to blow up everything in a 2 kilometer radius.

Sometimes, though, leaving a trail of bodies behind you as you went wasn’t the wisest course of action. And for those rare, cherished moments, she favored a compact stun baton of Imperium make. It was affectionately known in wetworks circles as “The Humbler.” While most Imperium devices of this type simply caused the subject enough pain to make him keel over, (Pain was the Drow’s preferred method for -everything,- after all,) some of their weapons manufacturers had realized that an effort needed to be made to appeal to more… discerning clients. A research team at Aratech Enterprises had developed a different mechanism for non-lethal subjugations – a mechanism that they’d been all too proud to incorporate into The Humbler.

The weapon emitted a high voltage, low amperage electrical current on contact which disrupted a target’s natural neuromuscular impulses and quickly, if not necessarily completely safely, rendered them immobile and helpless.

It was old technology, but still surprisingly effective, even across a great number of different species. Aratech had even gone one better and refined the technique to reduce most of the… unsavory side effects. Early field tests had reported an almost complete elimination of urinary incontinence on test specimens in comparison to earlier models.


Lovely bit of technology there.

Sime grinned to herself as she buckled the stun baton into a custom-built thigh holster, then reached for one last thing: the deadliest tool, by far, in her arsenal.

Sime carefully unzipped the garment bag and eased the dress out from inside. It was black, like the best dresses always were. A slinky, black cocktail dress – the LBD, Little Black Dress: the fashion equivalent of nuclear weapons; public lingerie; effective not because of what it was, but what it wasn’t. You had to have the legs and the body to wear an LBD. She did.

Sime slid into the dress as if it had been made for her. (It had, but that was beside the point.) She wrapped the holster for the stun baton high up around her thigh. (The hem of the dress came down just far enough to hide it.) She stepped into her shoes, she eyed herself in the mirror, fiddled with her hair a bit, checked her makeup. She nodded to herself. Everything just so.

Sanik drifted in from the other room and let out a low whistle. “Wow.”

She smirked, pointing at something in his hand. “Is that it?”

He nodded, holding out a small rectangular device about the size of her thumb. “Everything you need’s on here.” He dropped it into her open palm.

“Then I have a party to attend.”


Sime: "I look -good-."

Glad to see this see the light of day, Alpha. Look forward to the next part.

VH

#4 Guest_AlphaMonkey_*

Posted 23 May 2011 - 03:31 AM

It was fun to see more Sime showing up in the stories here, and Sanik. The duct tape made me laugh. :) It's interesting to read the premise of this alternative-universe setting and see the science fiction combined with the characters. A nice, solid beginning for this caper fic!


You can thank Naz and Viga for that, really. The two of them have really brought a lot of life to what was really a very minor character. I swear those two are largely responsible for a whole bunch of my plot bunnies.

As for the duct tape, well, that's cribbed from a TV show. :)

#5 Guest_AlphaMonkey_*

Posted 23 May 2011 - 04:27 AM

Ahh, pet names.


"Shmooples" is the name of Leliana's pet nug. Just in case you missed the reference.

I think only Minsc could find that a good time. Because Boo would LOVE IT.


Well, Boo would be talking smack to the monkeys as Minsc was fighting for their lives. So, yeah, there'd be something for them both to love in a situation like that.

Hrmm... reference maybe?


Only that this whole thing is one giant Burn Notice rip-off, and "Donovan Towers" is a reference to Jeffrey Donovan who plays the lead character of the show... so... no, no real reference. :P

Nicer couch though... but this -is- Sime. She'd have a nice couch.


Well, more that "It's Aran Linvail's money, so of course he'd spring for a nice couch."

Great line, made even better that random chance had thrown your 'strawberry' icon up when I read through. :)


Hah! I knew that Kaylee icon would come in handy someday. Though the inspiration for that line was the scene in Twin Peaks where Sherilyn Fenn is trying to get herself hired at One Eyed Jack's. She's in the interview, and the madam is asking why she should get the job, and Audrey, as cool as a cucumber, just walks up to the woman's desk. She's got this bowl of Maraschino cherries, so Audrey takes one, pulls the stem off, pops the stem in her mouth, there's a few seconds of her working, and then she reaches into her mouth, plops the stem down on a cocktail napkin, and there's this really tight, close-up shot of the stem tied into a little knot. And of course she gets the job. :D

Glad to see this see the light of day, Alpha. Look forward to the next part.


Yep. Working on it. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

#6 Guest_nazlan_*

Posted 31 May 2011 - 02:51 PM

Is there any universe where Sime is not awesome?

Sime: "Doubt it."

That's what I thought. :D




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