Floodwaters
Inactive Member
Stateroom aboard the private cargo ship "Tourmaline"
Other than the omnipresent hum of the engines to which the young woman had grown so accustomed to that she barely noticed it anymore, the only sound she heard was the muted, intermittent ruckus coming from the wardroom some distance aft, undoubtedly from some game of chance that the ship's crew engaged in when not otherwise occupied by their regular duties. It sounded like good-natured jeers and laughter for the most part, but the occasional sharp word or threat drifted through the bulkheads from time to time.
She lay on her back in the bunk provided for her, fingers interlaced across her washboard-flat abdomen, long auburn hair splayed out across the pillow around her head, her unfocused gaze pointed in the general direction of the flickering, failing light tube in the ceiling of her cabin. They were two days out of the Occhestia system, but with the ship's CFS on the fritz, it would likely be another day or two before they arrived at Dawn Station at the very least, and that was assuming nothing went wrong. Still, the slower transit time was the primary reason she'd been able to secure passage for so little, so she figured she at least had that to be grateful for. Janelle didn't have a lot to her name, and what little she did have she guarded jealously.
In truth, Janelle Jacobs had even less than that; she barely remembered much of her life further back than one or two years, and even that was spotty in some places. Somehow, she had always known that Occhestia III was not her homeworld, but the buzzing streets of its decaying inner city slums were the only part of her life of which she had solid recollection.
Without conscious thought her head turned, eyes settling on the empty syringe lying on the spartan metal table next to her bed, and flexed the fingers of her right hand open and closed a few times. She was certain that her terrible habit had something to do with the gaps in her memory, as when she got overzealous with her injections she was quite prone to extended bouts of euphoria and hallucinations of which she could only recall hazy snapshots.
She was certainly not blind to the gravity of such an addiction, and the weight of its proverbial albatross around her neck seemed to grow heavier each day. She could recall at least a handful of times when she had resolved to distance herself from the substance, only to feel her determination slowly erode as the shakes and nausea gradually invaded her body again, and in the end she crawled, always crawled, quaking and trembling back to the sweet sensation of stability that only the needle could bring her.
A sudden BANG resounded from the wardroom, causing Janelle to sit bolt upright with a convulsive start, sweat instantly beading on her forehead as the breath caught in her throat as if some invisible hand had clamped down on her trachea and begun to throttle her.
City lights, the sound of buzzing traffic and the murmur of a million voices around her. Hazy outlines of the crowds flitted in and out of view as she felt herself walk ever onward beneath a black sky, the stars above rendered invisible by the lights of the towering skyscrapers.
Then she was alone. An out-of-place shuffling sound from her left, her nerves suddenly jumping to life with the unmistakable alarm of her instincts.
A metal bar across her neck, choking her. A shift of her weight and a twist of her torso as a huge, lumbering form was thrown across her hip, but the bar brought her down on top of it. A flurry of fists as she felt bone and flesh start to yield beneath her brutal attacks.
Fire. The pain of a thousand flaming blades lancing through her ribs, causing her neck and arms to spasm violently. The baton connected with her cheek, wrenching her head to the side.
Dancing lights flashed across her vision. Vertigo overtook her as the world spun.
Darkness.
Janelle's chest heaved up and down as she fought to regain the breath that stubbornly persisted in eluding her, her long shoulder-length hair flung across her face and clinging to the sweat on her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Angry voices drifted into her cabin from the wardroom as an argument over their game turned sour, followed by a series of clatters as furniture was overturned.
Another voice roared over the din, barking authoritatively for order, and the chaos died down as quickly as it had begun. Clearing her throat, Janelle reprimanded herself for being so jumpy, but the adrenaline continued to course through her system, heart pounding like a pneumatic hammer in her chest, blood coursing so fast through her body that she could feel her pulse in her fingers, in her feet, behind her eyes.
Sitting there in a half-reclined position against the bulkhead on her bunk, knees elevated, she tugged on the tail of her snug-fitting, simple white T-shirt, smoothing it back down over her torso. Looking down as she did so, her eyes suddenly became involuntarily fixated on the metal buckle of the belt cinched about her waist.
The only thing that took shape in her blurry, formless field of vision was the square, tarnished metal belt buckle below her navel.
She could feel herself restrained to a worn wooden chair, ankles and wrists bound to it with thin wire almost to the point of cutting through her skin, her head thick and buzzing, too heavy for her neck to lift even an inch.
A bass voice rumbled nearby, and she felt the hot breath on her ear, but it sounded muted and far away, almost as if she were deep underwater. She couldn't understand much of it, but she remembered the mention of a place called "Dawn," and that the voice repeatedly addressed her by a name that wasn't hers.
It didn't matter how many times she tried to explain that they had the wrong person. She wasn't sure if it was because her captor was simply too loyal to be dissuaded, or if it was because her mouth was so numb and caked with dried blood that she could barely form a coherent sentence.
She had no way of knowing where she was, or why she was there. She hadn't welched on any debts recently, at least not on anyone dangerous enough to explain her situation.
Had she?
And if she had, why would they keep calling her by a stranger's name?
Once again Janelle found herself in near silence, with only the droning hum of the engines and the flickering of the light tube. Brushing the long hair from her eyes, she swung her legs back onto the floor and made her way over to the mirror set above the panel in the wall opposite the bunk. Pushing firmly on the top of the panel, she heard a soft "thunk" as a latch disengaged, and the panel swung down to reveal a yellowed ceramic washbasin.
As she turned on the water, she glanced at her reflection. A slender face gazed back at her with distant, greenish brown eyes, its understated, angular features almost elegant, even attractive, despite the yellowish bruise that was healing on the side of her cheek and temple and the remains of a black eye fading away beneath the left iris.. Yet, beneath the understated attractiveness the face was cold, hollow, and distant. Even though this was the face that Janelle always remembered seeing in the mirror, she could not shake the sensation that a stranger was looking back at her from the other side of the glass.
A shiver ran up her spine, and she tore her eyes away from the haunting visage to splash some cool water on her forehead and cheeks. She ran her fingers through her long hair, combing it out of her face and coaxing it to lay back flat against her head, allowing the straight locks to cascade over her shoulders. In the middle of the act she slowed and stopped, frozen in place as she noticed the scabs encircling her hands again.
A horrible, wet gurgling noise and the splatter of hot, running blood were the only sounds she could hear as she strained, her boot planted firmly between the hulking figure's shoulder blades, her bloody hands wrapped in the wire with which she was garroting him. His massive arms flailed as he desperately struggled to free himself in vain, swinging to the full extent of his joints' allowance with sickening cracking sounds, intent on crushing her in any way he could.
The wire dug into her palms, hot blood oozing out from beneath them as she pulled with all of her might, the tendons in her neck taut and her jaw clenched beneath closed, resolute lips. Though cold, unfeeling eyes she watched his struggle slowly subside, and after several slow, agonizing seconds he went limp and crumpled forward into an expanding red pool of his own blood.
Swallowing her revulsion, her heart racing, she released the wire, a soft whimper of pain escaping from her lips as she looked at the mixture of their blood on her hands. Panting, her sweat cutting rivulets through the caked-on grime and dirt on her skin, she ran for the door and out into a dingy hallway framed only by wooden rafters and steel beams, aging incandescent bulbs casting a dim, eerie yellow light. She picked a direction and ran.
She ran until she came to a rickety staircase, at the top of which she saw light pouring through the outline of a door, like some kind of otherworldly portal out of this nightmarish realm.
She blinked and snapped herself out of the waking dream. Longingly she gazed back at the empty syringe on the end table, then finished smoothing her hair and clothing before shoving the washbasin back into the wall. She moved back across the room, picking up the backpack that lay slumped against the wall next to the bed. Sitting down, she opened the pack and rummaged through its meager contents, everything that she owned.
It wasn't much, and part of her worried that she wouldn't remember or recognize any of its contents even though she had no reason to believe anyone had been into it since she lasted opened it. A few changes of clothes, two or three dwindling toiletry items, her PHC... and a datapad.
In her frantic race to escape from the building, she ran through a dingy room, permeated with the stink of mold and wet wood, the steady drip of a leaking water pipe echoing between the concrete walls. Overlapping graffiti adorned the walls, coupled with unintelligible splatters of red and black paint, or possibly even blood. A dirty mattress was in the corner, surrounded by detritus; empty liquor bottles, burnt cigarette butts, and discarded personal items.
She spotted her backpack among the clutter, several of its contents spilled out next to the mattress. If it hadn't been everything that she owned, she'd have ignored it, writing it off as an acceptable loss, but in a mad rush she sprinted towards it, every bleeding cut and aching bruise on her body screaming for her to stop.
Skidding to a halt she scooped up everything nearby, shoving it indiscriminately into the bag, conscious of the fact that an inactive datapad was among the effects but in too much of a hurry to care. She looked up at the mattress and noticed several of her undergarments lying twisted in the sheets, covered in a filth as to whose nature she could only guess at.
Swallowing a touch of vomit that rose to the back of her throat at the possible implications, she ignored the smallclothes and yanked the backpack from the floor, struggling to her feet and ran to find the exit, not bothering to close it.
She wrenched her eyes closed, trying to stave off the sense of panic as she realized that her hands had already begun to shake again. So soon...? she thought in angry desperation. Controlling her breathing, she rummaged through the backpack and found the length of elastic banding that was looped back on itself, and after a few clumsy efforts managed to snake her trembling hand through the loop, shoving it to her upper arm and pulled it taut. She flexed the fingers on her hand several times so that the vein on the inside of her elbow protruded through the skin, and held the strap in her teeth as she reached into the backpack, withdrawing a nearly-empty vial of a clear liquid.
Just one more...
The sense of calming serenity was immediate as the drug coursed into her blood, quelling the growing sense of dread and terror that always lurked just beneath the surface of her consciousness. The nightmare visions slowly subsided, and the color in the world seemed to return as her heart rate slowed to a steady drumming rhythm, and faded back into unnoticed obscurity.
Janelle sighed in quiet relief, but that barely-acknowledged sense of self-loathing returned as she withdrew her arm from the tourniquet. Doing her best to ignore it, she withdrew the datapad and thumbed the "on" switch. She didn't know why she was looking again. She'd done everything she knew to restore the files, which she had realized in another unsettling epiphany was much more than she thought she should, but it was no use. Except for a handful of lewd video recordings and a single bounty voucher, everything on the hard drive was hopelessly corrupted, undoubtedly by some kind of cut-rate security cypher that had nuked its storage when she had attempted to access the wrong thing.
She knew she couldn't go back to Occhestia III, not after what she'd done. Even if the man she'd killed was a convicted felon, and it had been in perfectly justifiable self-defense, whoever had sent him wouldn't be content to rest on their laurels and let her alone.
Pulling up the bounty voucher, she pulled up her feet and sat cross-legged against the wall on her mattress, reading over the text for what must have been the fortieth time. She still didn't understand what was happening to her, but whatever it was, it was linked in some way to the woman in this bounty, and to Dawn Station. Perhaps she'd be able to find out why she was being pinned as her fall girl. It wasn't as if there wasn't much more she had to lose.
Other than the omnipresent hum of the engines to which the young woman had grown so accustomed to that she barely noticed it anymore, the only sound she heard was the muted, intermittent ruckus coming from the wardroom some distance aft, undoubtedly from some game of chance that the ship's crew engaged in when not otherwise occupied by their regular duties. It sounded like good-natured jeers and laughter for the most part, but the occasional sharp word or threat drifted through the bulkheads from time to time.
She lay on her back in the bunk provided for her, fingers interlaced across her washboard-flat abdomen, long auburn hair splayed out across the pillow around her head, her unfocused gaze pointed in the general direction of the flickering, failing light tube in the ceiling of her cabin. They were two days out of the Occhestia system, but with the ship's CFS on the fritz, it would likely be another day or two before they arrived at Dawn Station at the very least, and that was assuming nothing went wrong. Still, the slower transit time was the primary reason she'd been able to secure passage for so little, so she figured she at least had that to be grateful for. Janelle didn't have a lot to her name, and what little she did have she guarded jealously.
In truth, Janelle Jacobs had even less than that; she barely remembered much of her life further back than one or two years, and even that was spotty in some places. Somehow, she had always known that Occhestia III was not her homeworld, but the buzzing streets of its decaying inner city slums were the only part of her life of which she had solid recollection.
Without conscious thought her head turned, eyes settling on the empty syringe lying on the spartan metal table next to her bed, and flexed the fingers of her right hand open and closed a few times. She was certain that her terrible habit had something to do with the gaps in her memory, as when she got overzealous with her injections she was quite prone to extended bouts of euphoria and hallucinations of which she could only recall hazy snapshots.
She was certainly not blind to the gravity of such an addiction, and the weight of its proverbial albatross around her neck seemed to grow heavier each day. She could recall at least a handful of times when she had resolved to distance herself from the substance, only to feel her determination slowly erode as the shakes and nausea gradually invaded her body again, and in the end she crawled, always crawled, quaking and trembling back to the sweet sensation of stability that only the needle could bring her.
A sudden BANG resounded from the wardroom, causing Janelle to sit bolt upright with a convulsive start, sweat instantly beading on her forehead as the breath caught in her throat as if some invisible hand had clamped down on her trachea and begun to throttle her.
City lights, the sound of buzzing traffic and the murmur of a million voices around her. Hazy outlines of the crowds flitted in and out of view as she felt herself walk ever onward beneath a black sky, the stars above rendered invisible by the lights of the towering skyscrapers.
Then she was alone. An out-of-place shuffling sound from her left, her nerves suddenly jumping to life with the unmistakable alarm of her instincts.
A metal bar across her neck, choking her. A shift of her weight and a twist of her torso as a huge, lumbering form was thrown across her hip, but the bar brought her down on top of it. A flurry of fists as she felt bone and flesh start to yield beneath her brutal attacks.
Fire. The pain of a thousand flaming blades lancing through her ribs, causing her neck and arms to spasm violently. The baton connected with her cheek, wrenching her head to the side.
Dancing lights flashed across her vision. Vertigo overtook her as the world spun.
Darkness.
Janelle's chest heaved up and down as she fought to regain the breath that stubbornly persisted in eluding her, her long shoulder-length hair flung across her face and clinging to the sweat on her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Angry voices drifted into her cabin from the wardroom as an argument over their game turned sour, followed by a series of clatters as furniture was overturned.
Another voice roared over the din, barking authoritatively for order, and the chaos died down as quickly as it had begun. Clearing her throat, Janelle reprimanded herself for being so jumpy, but the adrenaline continued to course through her system, heart pounding like a pneumatic hammer in her chest, blood coursing so fast through her body that she could feel her pulse in her fingers, in her feet, behind her eyes.
Sitting there in a half-reclined position against the bulkhead on her bunk, knees elevated, she tugged on the tail of her snug-fitting, simple white T-shirt, smoothing it back down over her torso. Looking down as she did so, her eyes suddenly became involuntarily fixated on the metal buckle of the belt cinched about her waist.
The only thing that took shape in her blurry, formless field of vision was the square, tarnished metal belt buckle below her navel.
She could feel herself restrained to a worn wooden chair, ankles and wrists bound to it with thin wire almost to the point of cutting through her skin, her head thick and buzzing, too heavy for her neck to lift even an inch.
A bass voice rumbled nearby, and she felt the hot breath on her ear, but it sounded muted and far away, almost as if she were deep underwater. She couldn't understand much of it, but she remembered the mention of a place called "Dawn," and that the voice repeatedly addressed her by a name that wasn't hers.
It didn't matter how many times she tried to explain that they had the wrong person. She wasn't sure if it was because her captor was simply too loyal to be dissuaded, or if it was because her mouth was so numb and caked with dried blood that she could barely form a coherent sentence.
She had no way of knowing where she was, or why she was there. She hadn't welched on any debts recently, at least not on anyone dangerous enough to explain her situation.
Had she?
And if she had, why would they keep calling her by a stranger's name?
Once again Janelle found herself in near silence, with only the droning hum of the engines and the flickering of the light tube. Brushing the long hair from her eyes, she swung her legs back onto the floor and made her way over to the mirror set above the panel in the wall opposite the bunk. Pushing firmly on the top of the panel, she heard a soft "thunk" as a latch disengaged, and the panel swung down to reveal a yellowed ceramic washbasin.
As she turned on the water, she glanced at her reflection. A slender face gazed back at her with distant, greenish brown eyes, its understated, angular features almost elegant, even attractive, despite the yellowish bruise that was healing on the side of her cheek and temple and the remains of a black eye fading away beneath the left iris.. Yet, beneath the understated attractiveness the face was cold, hollow, and distant. Even though this was the face that Janelle always remembered seeing in the mirror, she could not shake the sensation that a stranger was looking back at her from the other side of the glass.
A shiver ran up her spine, and she tore her eyes away from the haunting visage to splash some cool water on her forehead and cheeks. She ran her fingers through her long hair, combing it out of her face and coaxing it to lay back flat against her head, allowing the straight locks to cascade over her shoulders. In the middle of the act she slowed and stopped, frozen in place as she noticed the scabs encircling her hands again.
A horrible, wet gurgling noise and the splatter of hot, running blood were the only sounds she could hear as she strained, her boot planted firmly between the hulking figure's shoulder blades, her bloody hands wrapped in the wire with which she was garroting him. His massive arms flailed as he desperately struggled to free himself in vain, swinging to the full extent of his joints' allowance with sickening cracking sounds, intent on crushing her in any way he could.
The wire dug into her palms, hot blood oozing out from beneath them as she pulled with all of her might, the tendons in her neck taut and her jaw clenched beneath closed, resolute lips. Though cold, unfeeling eyes she watched his struggle slowly subside, and after several slow, agonizing seconds he went limp and crumpled forward into an expanding red pool of his own blood.
Swallowing her revulsion, her heart racing, she released the wire, a soft whimper of pain escaping from her lips as she looked at the mixture of their blood on her hands. Panting, her sweat cutting rivulets through the caked-on grime and dirt on her skin, she ran for the door and out into a dingy hallway framed only by wooden rafters and steel beams, aging incandescent bulbs casting a dim, eerie yellow light. She picked a direction and ran.
She ran until she came to a rickety staircase, at the top of which she saw light pouring through the outline of a door, like some kind of otherworldly portal out of this nightmarish realm.
She blinked and snapped herself out of the waking dream. Longingly she gazed back at the empty syringe on the end table, then finished smoothing her hair and clothing before shoving the washbasin back into the wall. She moved back across the room, picking up the backpack that lay slumped against the wall next to the bed. Sitting down, she opened the pack and rummaged through its meager contents, everything that she owned.
It wasn't much, and part of her worried that she wouldn't remember or recognize any of its contents even though she had no reason to believe anyone had been into it since she lasted opened it. A few changes of clothes, two or three dwindling toiletry items, her PHC... and a datapad.
In her frantic race to escape from the building, she ran through a dingy room, permeated with the stink of mold and wet wood, the steady drip of a leaking water pipe echoing between the concrete walls. Overlapping graffiti adorned the walls, coupled with unintelligible splatters of red and black paint, or possibly even blood. A dirty mattress was in the corner, surrounded by detritus; empty liquor bottles, burnt cigarette butts, and discarded personal items.
She spotted her backpack among the clutter, several of its contents spilled out next to the mattress. If it hadn't been everything that she owned, she'd have ignored it, writing it off as an acceptable loss, but in a mad rush she sprinted towards it, every bleeding cut and aching bruise on her body screaming for her to stop.
Skidding to a halt she scooped up everything nearby, shoving it indiscriminately into the bag, conscious of the fact that an inactive datapad was among the effects but in too much of a hurry to care. She looked up at the mattress and noticed several of her undergarments lying twisted in the sheets, covered in a filth as to whose nature she could only guess at.
Swallowing a touch of vomit that rose to the back of her throat at the possible implications, she ignored the smallclothes and yanked the backpack from the floor, struggling to her feet and ran to find the exit, not bothering to close it.
She wrenched her eyes closed, trying to stave off the sense of panic as she realized that her hands had already begun to shake again. So soon...? she thought in angry desperation. Controlling her breathing, she rummaged through the backpack and found the length of elastic banding that was looped back on itself, and after a few clumsy efforts managed to snake her trembling hand through the loop, shoving it to her upper arm and pulled it taut. She flexed the fingers on her hand several times so that the vein on the inside of her elbow protruded through the skin, and held the strap in her teeth as she reached into the backpack, withdrawing a nearly-empty vial of a clear liquid.
Just one more...
The sense of calming serenity was immediate as the drug coursed into her blood, quelling the growing sense of dread and terror that always lurked just beneath the surface of her consciousness. The nightmare visions slowly subsided, and the color in the world seemed to return as her heart rate slowed to a steady drumming rhythm, and faded back into unnoticed obscurity.
Janelle sighed in quiet relief, but that barely-acknowledged sense of self-loathing returned as she withdrew her arm from the tourniquet. Doing her best to ignore it, she withdrew the datapad and thumbed the "on" switch. She didn't know why she was looking again. She'd done everything she knew to restore the files, which she had realized in another unsettling epiphany was much more than she thought she should, but it was no use. Except for a handful of lewd video recordings and a single bounty voucher, everything on the hard drive was hopelessly corrupted, undoubtedly by some kind of cut-rate security cypher that had nuked its storage when she had attempted to access the wrong thing.
She knew she couldn't go back to Occhestia III, not after what she'd done. Even if the man she'd killed was a convicted felon, and it had been in perfectly justifiable self-defense, whoever had sent him wouldn't be content to rest on their laurels and let her alone.
Pulling up the bounty voucher, she pulled up her feet and sat cross-legged against the wall on her mattress, reading over the text for what must have been the fortieth time. She still didn't understand what was happening to her, but whatever it was, it was linked in some way to the woman in this bounty, and to Dawn Station. Perhaps she'd be able to find out why she was being pinned as her fall girl. It wasn't as if there wasn't much more she had to lose.
==TRANSMISSION RECEIVED==
Origin: Urtullan Colony, HX-24 System
Re: Bounty - Violation of Indenture
Sender: Office of the Magistrate - Reisor District
Be it known that SIENNA AUDREY SHELTON has unlawfully departed the planet in violation of his/her indenture with contract holder OLAF EDMOND PANGRE. She was last seen boarding a military shuttle with a Star Army of Yamatai crew after assisting in the murder of a lawful agent sent to collect her. Orbital trackers detected the shuttle docking with a Plumeria-class gunship and jumping away. Current whereabouts unknown, presumed to have fled to Yamatai space.
A description of the fugitive is listed below. Other crimes include MURDER, THEFT OF PERSONAL PROPERTY, DESTRUCTION OF GOVERNMENT RESOURCES, RECKLESS DISREGARD FOR PUBLIC SAFETY. She should be considered armed and dangerous.
A bounty of 3000 KS (or equivalent) is offered for her return ALIVE and in GOOD HEALTH. No payment will be awarded if the fugitive is critically harmed in any way, including but not limited to dismembered limbs, missing organs, brain trauma, paralysis, etc. Relatively minor injuries such as moderate bone fractures may or may not void the bounty, depending on circumstances.
Height: 175.26 cm
Weight: 60.78 kg
Eyes: Green
Hair: Lt. Brown
Age: Early 20s
((Two photos appear to be attached to the bounty, but they are corrupted and distorted beyond recognition))
==TRANSMISSION ENDS==
Personal Notes:
dam luky brake for me didn't expect nothin like this to jus drop in my back yard
the bounty's old and i don know how id get her to Urtullan to dam far away
the boss mite be able to tho and he mite cut me in on the reward for findin her two
not like nobody wud miss her no way
Origin: Urtullan Colony, HX-24 System
Re: Bounty - Violation of Indenture
Sender: Office of the Magistrate - Reisor District
Be it known that SIENNA AUDREY SHELTON has unlawfully departed the planet in violation of his/her indenture with contract holder OLAF EDMOND PANGRE. She was last seen boarding a military shuttle with a Star Army of Yamatai crew after assisting in the murder of a lawful agent sent to collect her. Orbital trackers detected the shuttle docking with a Plumeria-class gunship and jumping away. Current whereabouts unknown, presumed to have fled to Yamatai space.
A description of the fugitive is listed below. Other crimes include MURDER, THEFT OF PERSONAL PROPERTY, DESTRUCTION OF GOVERNMENT RESOURCES, RECKLESS DISREGARD FOR PUBLIC SAFETY. She should be considered armed and dangerous.
A bounty of 3000 KS (or equivalent) is offered for her return ALIVE and in GOOD HEALTH. No payment will be awarded if the fugitive is critically harmed in any way, including but not limited to dismembered limbs, missing organs, brain trauma, paralysis, etc. Relatively minor injuries such as moderate bone fractures may or may not void the bounty, depending on circumstances.
Height: 175.26 cm
Weight: 60.78 kg
Eyes: Green
Hair: Lt. Brown
Age: Early 20s
((Two photos appear to be attached to the bounty, but they are corrupted and distorted beyond recognition))
==TRANSMISSION ENDS==
Personal Notes:
dam luky brake for me didn't expect nothin like this to jus drop in my back yard
the bounty's old and i don know how id get her to Urtullan to dam far away
the boss mite be able to tho and he mite cut me in on the reward for findin her two
not like nobody wud miss her no way
