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We still lack some debriefing...Waterloo Sunset...[[Eyedot]]. | We still lack some debriefing...Waterloo Sunset...[[Eyedot]]. | ||
We have to hit up Gst Tactical Supply for a [[Nano-Integrating_Anti-Qlippothic_BioSuit]] | We have to hit up Gst Tactical Supply for a [[Nano-Integrating_Anti-Qlippothic_BioSuit]] and some[[Eyedot]] so I can get some information on this case. | ||
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A muscular young agent, red velour 30's gangster suit, appears as he spreads a thick curtain. He is handed the folio case and sent out immdiately to the ship yard to make his way to the Orbital Space City Ketheres. | A muscular young agent, red velour 30's gangster suit, appears as he spreads a thick curtain. He is handed the folio case and sent out immdiately to the ship yard to make his way to the Orbital Space City Ketheres. | ||
Orbital Plans did not get printed and I just did the last print run. The Offices over at Brenico Towers wont even return my calls. I was supposed to send those plans to Betaal Geld Ikipr weeks ago.
The Nano-Integrating_Anti-Qlippothic_BioSuit is going to be needed and I am going to short on time to make the exchange. The Double-Tree in Boise, Idaho Space Base. The Potato is a symbol for the fruit of a double tree...beneath the ground...the fruit of the inverse.
Behemoth Class Crusier. Crawling with Nova Criminals...mind parasites from accross the Galaxy.
Worse than that...your own brothers are unconsciously going to kill you and bury you in the foundations of the new cyber temple that will last forever...
Motely Howe is looking for you with intent on killing you.
We still lack some debriefing...Waterloo Sunset...Eyedot.
We have to hit up Gst Tactical Supply for a Nano-Integrating_Anti-Qlippothic_BioSuit and someEyedot so I can get some information on this case.
Gotta get past the fear of the Ugla-man. It is post traumatic stress...I hope. Gnaws at your core and makes it hard to enjoy the heart rate pounding...
A cold shop. Smell of old oil. You know its really old as it has to predate The Gas Wars.
A robot dog sniffs up your leg and a signal bleeps as a red light flashes. This is a model of some early robot dogs .
Soon a hunched over frogfaced man in overalls ambles out and croaks out a greeting.
Your throat bubble expands and you alow a low twitter to vibrate through your speech sacks. Eyes expanding and then closing peacefully.
The impatient Blinks you are greeted with are strangly rude but you figure that is due to his low class pursits with ancient culture and menial mechanics.
You need just these menial mechanics and your dependence on this tech makes you wonder why these shop keepers are so fucking poor.
You slide a thick folio accross the smooth metallic table, expanding your webs as if to conceal it from view. These are the plans for an orbital station that will allow us to get out of the range of the growing empire.
BREEEEEE KEK BREEEEEEE KEK
The Shop Keep bellows.
A muscular young agent, red velour 30's gangster suit, appears as he spreads a thick curtain. He is handed the folio case and sent out immdiately to the ship yard to make his way to the Orbital Space City Ketheres.