It was a shady place, a small office on the outskirts of Capital Memorial City, a small city born of Ayenee Capital City's near-death experience during the Assassins' War. Originally built by PNUgen as hospital and mall, CMC was about 40 miles south of ACC and had ended up mostly catering to middle-class families wishing to escape the chaos of ACC but too attached to the interesting place to get too far away. The little office was nothing special, merely a small armored building at the entrance to a yard of old shuttlecraft and starfighters. "SPACE TECH" a flickering neon sign shined outside. Inside, an older, extremely tall and muscular man with a buzz cut sat behind a large desk with a laptop and a bottle of rice wine on it.
Bounded loosely around his legs was a pair of brown almost tan engineer pants. Then tucked into that was a tight fitted deep blood red t-shirt. He wore a rusty faded orange jacket over that and a pair of gantlets. He had a belt on to keep his pants up and one other that hung off his hip for looks. He had a MEFK <Military Engineered Field Katana> strapped to his back. His Aviation boots looked just like any other kind, but these pair had metal plates installed on the side of the ankles, the back of the tendons, and over the laces and going up the shin stopping at the knee. Used mostly for melee combat. His brown hair was naturally parted from the goggles he wore on his forehead. And his Orange eyes glared towards the Space Tech Facility.
He looked a bit more closely seeing that it seemed this conflict was an ongoing event and didn't seem to be stopping for a while. He had already known he had to walk in here to get what he needed to join the conflict and balance the forces at play. The CPN stepped up onto the dirt curve and noticed the newspapers stick to the ground, some actually blowing up against the building along with other airborne objects. Not knowing how to open the door exactly he just pushed it open seeing the dim lit place catch his eyes in interest. Taking a step in and looking around for a moment or two all he could see was an odd looking man sitting down behind a desk. not sure if he was busy or not he cleared his throat to catch his attention. The trench coat stopped flapping behind him and hit the floor as the door shut behind him. He took a step forward and looked about the room and then through a back window to see the parts and other such machines in the back. The orange eyes soon wondered back to the man to se if he had stopped what he was doing to see what he wanted, only to stand there patiently for him to respond.
The giant brute of a man was dressed in a Star Army uniform, with sky-blue front panel and shoulders on a jacket. The gold pin on it had a dark blue background. This signified the man to be a pilot or infantry (probably the latter of the two, seeing as not many craft would fit him), and a Warrant Officer. He was watching the latest news, which, from the audio the visitor could hear, sounded to be about terrorists destroying a 300-story skyscraper in some place called "Funky City." Turning off the report, the soldier looked to the man and pointed to one of several rolling chairs that were against the wall. "Pull up a chair," his voice deeply suggested. "What can I do for you?'
He looked to the man then to the direction of the chairs. He walked over to one of the chairs and rolled it on over towards his desk and sat down in it. It wasn't the most comfortable chairs in the universe, but he didn't really care- he has been in worse positions. He then and only then looked over the mans attire and smiled seeing that he was close to the same line of work he was into. Now making eye contact he responded. "I need a ship that I can upgrade and perhaps even completely change to my liking if needed." He then looked to the man not sure if it was at all possible for this process to happen or not. His impression on the man was already a good one considering the front he was holding- only after would he have complete respect for him.
"What's your price range," the big guy asked, "and what size ship are you looking for?"
"Well lets see-At least 40,000 credits to 100,000. I want one main cockpit with two passengers- a small lounge/meeting area- sick bay, two sleeping holds, and a 8,000 sq. ft. cargo bay...something around that; but I need it suitable for hazardous combat situationsâ€
Bounded loosely around his legs was a pair of brown almost tan engineer pants. Then tucked into that was a tight fitted deep blood red t-shirt. He wore a rusty faded orange jacket over that and a pair of gantlets. He had a belt on to keep his pants up and one other that hung off his hip for looks. He had a MEFK <Military Engineered Field Katana> strapped to his back. His Aviation boots looked just like any other kind, but these pair had metal plates installed on the side of the ankles, the back of the tendons, and over the laces and going up the shin stopping at the knee. Used mostly for melee combat. His brown hair was naturally parted from the goggles he wore on his forehead. And his Orange eyes glared towards the Space Tech Facility.
He looked a bit more closely seeing that it seemed this conflict was an ongoing event and didn't seem to be stopping for a while. He had already known he had to walk in here to get what he needed to join the conflict and balance the forces at play. The CPN stepped up onto the dirt curve and noticed the newspapers stick to the ground, some actually blowing up against the building along with other airborne objects. Not knowing how to open the door exactly he just pushed it open seeing the dim lit place catch his eyes in interest. Taking a step in and looking around for a moment or two all he could see was an odd looking man sitting down behind a desk. not sure if he was busy or not he cleared his throat to catch his attention. The trench coat stopped flapping behind him and hit the floor as the door shut behind him. He took a step forward and looked about the room and then through a back window to see the parts and other such machines in the back. The orange eyes soon wondered back to the man to se if he had stopped what he was doing to see what he wanted, only to stand there patiently for him to respond.
The giant brute of a man was dressed in a Star Army uniform, with sky-blue front panel and shoulders on a jacket. The gold pin on it had a dark blue background. This signified the man to be a pilot or infantry (probably the latter of the two, seeing as not many craft would fit him), and a Warrant Officer. He was watching the latest news, which, from the audio the visitor could hear, sounded to be about terrorists destroying a 300-story skyscraper in some place called "Funky City." Turning off the report, the soldier looked to the man and pointed to one of several rolling chairs that were against the wall. "Pull up a chair," his voice deeply suggested. "What can I do for you?'
He looked to the man then to the direction of the chairs. He walked over to one of the chairs and rolled it on over towards his desk and sat down in it. It wasn't the most comfortable chairs in the universe, but he didn't really care- he has been in worse positions. He then and only then looked over the mans attire and smiled seeing that he was close to the same line of work he was into. Now making eye contact he responded. "I need a ship that I can upgrade and perhaps even completely change to my liking if needed." He then looked to the man not sure if it was at all possible for this process to happen or not. His impression on the man was already a good one considering the front he was holding- only after would he have complete respect for him.
"What's your price range," the big guy asked, "and what size ship are you looking for?"
"Well lets see-At least 40,000 credits to 100,000. I want one main cockpit with two passengers- a small lounge/meeting area- sick bay, two sleeping holds, and a 8,000 sq. ft. cargo bay...something around that; but I need it suitable for hazardous combat situationsâ€
