MTG Salvation

Quote from Caex Kothar

Name: Marcus "Paladin" Kincaid
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3
Weight: 185
Age: 37
Appearance: Short dirty-blonde hair, slightly longer than Alliance standard. Clean shaven, with average features and a strong jawline. Always carries four knives of varying size and edge.

Skills:
Combat
Hand-to-Hand: 2
Long Range Weapons: 1

Tech
Tactical Cloak: 1
Computers: 1
Decryption: 1


Bio: There was an Alliance division called CREED (Close Range Enemy Engagement and Dispatch) which was basically the Alliance equivalent of the SPECTRES. They specialized in hand-to-hand and melee weapon combat because Mass Effect shields are only designed to stop high-speed or high-energy projectiles and humanity was worried it would be considered second-class if their weapons and shields weren't as advanced as the other Council races.

When the Asari shared their tech with humanity, CREED was irrelevant, but it was continued as a secret organization with only 13 members. It was eventually disbanded due to backroom politics.

Marcus, callsign Paladin, was their youngest and newest recruit when the group was disbanded. He was transferred to a pirate-hunting ship on the edge of the Terminus Systems and served for several years.

He one day got a message from the highest ranked CREED operative, Hunter. It said that someone was hunting and killing former CREED members, and that eight were dead already. Marcus went into hiding on the criminal mining station Omega, working as an enforcer for Aria T'Loak.

Marcus was then contacted by an Asari SPECTRE who was building a team to investigate the death of the human SPECTRE Shepard. He agreed to help in exchange for the SPECTRE files on CREED, hoping he could piece together who was killing the former operatives and stop them.

Quote from GenyusGuy

Caffeine Coffin

Brown sludge burns down your throat
Everyone else in the world seems slow
Jittery legs
Trembling palms
The need to avoid sleep
Keeps you going
Keeps you awake
Keeps you alive
Keeps you the busiest bee in the hive

Your indulgence
Your obsession
Your fickle crutch you rely on
Your addiction won't keep you going forever
You'll succumb to sleep
You are no better

But you don't care
You've got your fix
You're awake for now
As the damning clock ticks
Your heart races in tune
Yet you feel like laughing
Each beat closer to death
And your caffeine coffin

Quote from BlippyTheSlug

So a bit about this life of mine
Which started back in fifty-nine
In a little town in Germany
Sandkrug is where I came to be
Dad left mom to come to the states
But he couldn't go far enough to escape his fate
As mom tracked him down in sixty-three
Coming over on a ship, carrying me
I was there when they were wed
So yes, I'm a bastard, born and bred

Raised in the suburbs of Detroit
We'll skip my youth and teen exploits
I left home in seventy-seven
For some harsh military lessons
Some of which I cannot relay
But I can never go back to Thailand they say
After three years I came home again
But soon left for the land of the setting sun
In San Francisco I became a punk
And finished my schooling of computer junk

(Peter Norton used to sneer at me
I was the only mohawk at P.A.R.C.
So now whenever you move your mouse
A tiny snippet of code from my house
By now buried so deep it can't be found
But I was there, making the mouse go 'round)

I also played bass with a band called Sluglords
Thrashing punk rock, which society abhorred

I met my wife in eighty-six
In eighty-seven I was in a fix
Continue with music, which was doing well
Or be the dad, with nine to five in hell
Needless to say I chose my family
That crazy world of genetic alchemy

And there you have the first twenty seven
The last twenty five have been hell and heaven
But I'm not going to get into them now
Because Mr. Man is due over soon with some "wow!"

Quote from bighaben

A Very Noisy Window:

It all fell apart, like so many other things, when the economy collapsed and I was forced to move on from my job. Sure, there were bailouts, but it never seemed to trickle down to the level where I worked, and as a result was laid off. Or fired. Can’t remember, but in the end it didn’t matter, nor did I care. The end result was the same, and that was that I had to find a job. The first place I turned to was my industry, but that didn’t end well, for obvious reasons. So, I moved on down the ladder until I finally grabbed a job at local bank, as a banker. Turns out I didn’t like people much, and was fired shortly thereafter, and that was much to my own satisfaction. So, I moved on further down the ladder and found myself working as at a call center downtown helping people get scammed by some super sized bank by getting them to sign up for useless credit card deals.
It was at this time I came across a peculiar classified offering a part time job. Nothing about it was particularly interesting, but it was the way it was worded that drew my eye. An easy job, simple tasks, easy money. First come, first serve. Five simple phrases and I was attracted. I dialed the number, and to my surprise was the third and final person to be given the job. With an address in hand I looked it up and discovered it was a residential location, but the most odd request was that I simply bring plain, unsalted crackers.
It was to this location, a year into my employment, that I was heading now, and it was my day off. I just lost my job at the call center and felt lost so I headed to the apartment of The Mistress rather lackadaisically. She was from a bygone era, an ancient being in her last years of life, and I envied her. There were parts of me that really felt like giving up completely, but that was below me. I was only two blocks away and headed into a small corner store in the heart of the ritzy side of town. It was a very high class neighborhood, the kind of place one dreams of living in when they are rich, lazy, and old. The ocean could not only be seen, but could be smelled along with the faint scents of restaurants cooking high quality foods. The sidewalks were well kept, the buildings old but fully refurbished, and there was a distinct lack of color on the streets. It was a perfect New England neighborhood.
Inside the store I picked up The Mistress’ favorite crackers, which I tried once, and found dreadfully bland. I also picked up a soda for myself, but at the counter handed it back to the clerk as it suddenly didn’t feel appealing. This was typical of the days I went up to the Mistress’ apartment, but today, since it wasn’t a day I typically went to her apartment I thought things would be different. This was due to the nature of her apartment; one just didn’t want anything of luxury when you entered it. The clerk looked upset with me, but took the soda without saying anything and I left with my crackers.
The Mistress lived in the least lavish of the apartment buildings in the area that startled the divide of super rich from the well-to-do. The Mistress herself was quite rich; however, and it would be obvious to anyone who knew her that she choose this location for a very specific reason. The building was still respectable enough to have a very well dressed doorman, and I was forced to check in with him before entering. Of course, by this time the doorman knew me quite well, and waved at me with a large, fake, forced smile. I felt sorry for the poor man, serving these rich people, but he did it so well, and if I had the money I would have tipped him generously. Instead I gave an awkward nod of my head to acknowledge his acknowledgment and headed inside.
Riding the elevator my thoughts drifted back to the status of my life. Nearly half of my life savings had disappeared over the past several years as I moved from job to job, and house to house. My assets were liquidated, and my love-life exhausted. I didn’t know how much longer I could go on without a stable job. If it wasn’t for The Mistress’ stable source of income I’d be completely broke, and probably homeless. So, for three days a week I fought the immense awkwardness of my brief encounter with The Mistress and her mysterious butler and took my money with no conversation. Stupid-easy money, but it never felt right, even after a year.
The mistress owned a condo on the top floor, and it covered the entire top floor, and so the elevator opened basically in her living room. It was lavish, and richly decorated that the butler kept up by request of the Mistress, but he was not allowed to leave. I once suspected there was something more significant to their relationship then just butler and Mistress, that perhaps he was her son, but that thought left me quickly. The elevator didn’t directly open into the living room, but instead into a small mud room where usually the Butler was standing waiting for my arrival. Since I was not supposed to be here on this day I was forced to use the doorbell and was greeted shortly by the Butler.
“You are not allowed to use the doorbell,” he said sternly. He was much older than myself, but his wrinkles seemed clean and well kept, if that was even possible. His salty hair was always straight, and he spoke as perfectly clear of accent as he could. A perfect butler, but in this age he seemed extremely out of place, and perhaps even offensive. “Use of the doorbell disturbs The Mistress,” he continued.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t know,” I replied knowing it was a lazy excuse, but it was true. There was little discussion about anything.
He nodded slowly, and noticing the box of crackers in my hand let me in and wandered off into another part of the house without another word. I was allowed in three places, the kitchen, the parlor, and the hallway that connected the two spaces. Anywhere else was strictly off limits, and going anywhere else would result in my immediate termination. A simple request, but curiosity had meant the loss of two co-workers since the beginning of my employment. In the kitchen I grabbed a simple white plate that was absolutely spotless, a clean I had only experienced here. As usual I put six crackers on the plate, and filled a glass with filtered water so as to remove as much taste as possible. This was the most important part, to help nourish the Mistress I had to put in a certain, flavorless vitamin pill. Forgetting this meant putting her in danger of malnourishment, which we all suspected she was ravaged by.
When I turned around the Butler was standing there looking at me with an annoyed expression across his face, “You’re off schedule, she won’t eat it.”
I hadn’t thought this far ahead, I was expecting to be turned away, but I wanted to press the issue further, “Why’d you let me in then?”
The butler shrugged, “I was told to never turn anyone away, if they wanted to come, then they could come. I do as I asked, and from this point forward I am as lost as you.”
The casual pace of this conversation was nearly appalling in its unusualness but I continued anyway, “Well should I just take the food to her anyway? It’s just crackers and water, she’ll eat it when she wants to.”
The Butler looked alarmed with his confusion, and shrugged again, and nodded his head, “I suppose that is the best idea then, sir.”
From here I followed the Butler, like usual, down the hall to the parlor. The parlor was a strange room, and it was more like half a parlor. The first half of the room as you entered was just as elegantly decorated as the rest of the house. There were two plush couches, and decadent end tables with magnificent lamps upon them. It was a place to spend the evening, but it was never used for anything but a waiting room if you arrived to your shift early. There were five shifts a day, and a different person did a shift each day. Mine was mid afternoon, at 3:00pm sharp. Usually I arrived ten minutes early, but had to wait until 3:00pm to present my food to the Butler to take the food to the Mistress. The whole situation was strange in its uselessness, and I became sure that The Mistress had an ulterior motive. When that ulterior motive would show itself was a good question that would likely remain unanswered.
The other half of the room was utterly different. It was void of any furniture, and was painted a solid, dull white. The reason for this was that it was within the peripheral range of the Mistress. The Butler moved through the room into the white, void side of the parlor and I followed. There was an entry way into another room here and there sat the Mistress in an equally sterile room staring out her window. I had never made eye contact with her, but I stared at her the entire time I was present which was, thankfully, not long. The butler took the plate and the glass of water and took them into the adjacent room, and placed them on a solid white table next to the Mistress in her solid white chair. He quickly left, and we began moving away from the small white room with the Mistress in it when a frail voice called out.
“Wait,” the Mistress said.
I looked at the Butler, and he looked back with the same expression. Confusion. The Butler, upon command headed back toward the little room, and I followed. The site I saw made me want to scream aloud in surprise, but I didn’t. The Mistress was no longer looking out her window, but at The Butler who stood traumatized in fear. Her eyes were fixed on the poor man, but they suddenly shifted toward me in a quick twitch of her head. That startled me greatly as well.
“Come,” she said.
I hesitated, and she repeated her command. I slowly walked into the small room and truly felt the weight of the void it created. I was drawn to her face, because there was nothing else to look at. I got lost in her eyes as they stayed transfixed on me. I had never seen a person so skilled at staring before, though of all the people to be skilled at staring, it would be her. She smiled, and that was the most unsettling sight yet. She turned her head back toward the window in another fast movement of her head.
“Come closer, look out the window with me,” she said in a stoic tone.
I slowly moved closer to the Mistress and the view out the window came into view, and my eyes were drawn naturally out it due to the stark nature of the room we were in. The window was tall, narrow, and buried deep in an alcove so that one can only see out if they stood directly in front of it. To get a complete view I had to kneel uncomfortably close to the Mistress but that awkwardness drifted away as my mind became enveloped by the view.
It was a simple view, at the top was the ocean, and as my eyes moved down one could see the beach, the sidewalk in front, and finally a small walled in alleyway as to hide from the passerby’s on the street. After having quickly scanned the view my eyes drifted back toward the ocean, but there was nothing interesting as the window was so narrow. What caught my eye immediately after was a person who quickly flashed into view, and back out as they walked by. It was such a startling movement. My mind began to focus on the alleyway, as it was the largest area in sight. It was relatively well kept, but there was an out of place golf cart. It hadn’t been used in years as a back tire was bent awkwardly, and a thick layer of dust had accumulated on it, the dust only visible because of a few strange streaks that cut through here and there. Perhaps the streaks were caused by a stray animal, or something far more fantastical. I had the strange thought that perhaps a couple had intercourse on the dashboard of it, but that seemed ludicrous at best. So, it must have been an animal, and I tried to look for it but there wasn’t one present. My thoughts drifted back to the bent wheel, and what caused that. Perhaps some kids stole it and ran it over a curb, breaking it. I regrettably laughed at the thought of these kids having to push the broken golf cart into the alley where it would become forgotten. The whole sight was rather strange, and I began to search for what it was used for. I couldn’t think of anything as there was nothing but that golf cart, a few city dumpsters, and some debris here and there. Then a little rat appeared from under a pallet and scurried across the narrow alleyway, and managed to climb onto a dumpster via a conveniently placed lawn chair. It stood at the top, looking into the abyss of the dumpster, and I thought it was going to go in, but instead leapt back onto the ground. It then moved toward the gate at the entrance to the alleyway and moved into the street. It was becoming difficult to see now, but it managed to get to the other side of the road where it stopped to investigate some trash. A couple appeared in the view and staggered at the sight of the rat. I imagined the women screaming, and a smile came to my face, and laughed aloud when woman began to wave her purse haphazardly around. Her boyfriend or husband was trying to calm her down, and then they moved out of view. Now my eyes focused on a couple that had appeared on the beach where they set up a towel to sit on. They were a middle aged couple and I wondered if they were married or just dating. It was a strange sight to see such an aged couple together. At that age people were usually too busy to date, or even be together. No wonder so many marriages failed at that point. If they weren’t married they certainty had been married before. The man began to gently rub the woman’s hand, and I could hear her giggling her body language was so strong. I smiled at the thought of the happy couple. Then another figure entered the view, and I could tell this guy was important. There was a cell phone in his hand, and another on his belt buckle. His body language was strong enough to convey stress. Maybe the man just wanted some time away, as it was a strange time and place to see a business man. I didn’t envy the man, in fact I pitied him and the thought crossed my mind that I was once that man. An ice cream truck stopped, blocking my view of both the man and the couple and I thought I would take this time to look away, but I couldn’t. There was the possibility that some children would show up, or another couple, and I could see what they would do. That was a good question, what would they do? I must know. So, I kept staring but no one appeared but a dumb rat that peeped out from under the ice cream truck. In the middle of the road it stopped and put its nose so high I knew it smelled something good. It then inched its way toward the truck, but couldn’t figure out how to get to the delicious prize inside. The ice cream man appeared at the truck window, but never noticed the rat. I wanted to open the window to hear what kind of music he would be playing, but there was no way to open it. So, a tune from my childhood entered my head instead. I loved that tune, and ice cream was synonymous with it. I began to hum it aloud and that was when The Mistress spoke.
“Enough.”
My mind jolted, but I my eyes were transfixed on the scene, I really wanted to see what would happen when the ice cream man saw the rat. There was a force on my shoulder, she was touching me. This snapped me out of it, and I turned to look at her outstretched hand that lay upon my shoulder.
“Come away from the window, my dear,” she continued.
I obeyed, the forcefulness of her voice drew my attention more than the window, but I felt that if I had another minute or two at the window that that wouldn’t be enough to draw me away. How long had I been at the window? A minute, ten? Perhaps, even seconds? I still don’t know the answer to that question, but I don’t think it was very long. She turned back to look out the window, and while I wanted to join her I forced myself back into the parlor. The butler was there and asked me what I wanted to do now that I had given the Mistress her food, but I just continued on past without saying anything. My mind was elsewhere.
I was becoming disappointed at the unanswered questions that were driven into mind. All those loose ends would be with me forever I felt and the most powerful of them all was that ocean. Of all the things I saw and thought about, the ocean had nothing. It was painfully boring. It had no story, it was just an ocean.
At I exited the building my mind, still flooded with thoughts of that view, drew me toward the ocean. I was just going to sit on the beach and stare at things, and think about them. The problem was obvious though, I would be trapped, and just as insane as the Mistress. I had to do something else, and in an instant I had the idea. I would buy a boat with my remaining life savings, on credit. I would never pay it off, as it wouldn’t matter. A nice endless sail with just me and my thoughts sound lovely.
So, I withdrew my savings at a local bank, and headed down to the marina and found a small store nearby that had a few boats for sale. He didn’t want to sell me it, as I had no job, but after convincing him with a large down payment it was mine. I used the rest of the money, without any forethought, for some supplies. I would spend the rest of my life on that sailboat where I would fish, and come ashore every once in a while to get more supplies. It’d just be like those weekends I spent with my father when I was younger. There was nothing left for me here anyway, I wouldn’t be missed.
With the boat, and my supplies I set off just as the sun was beginning to set. I move along the shore until I saw the building where the Mistress was staring out the window. I was going to give her something to watch. Since the image of the window was etched into my mind so clearly I knew exactly where to turn, and head out to sea.

****

And as the little boat sailed off the tiny canvas the window held, the Mistress smiled at the story she was creating in her mind, and ate a cracker.