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Station Elbrecht was situated in the star lanes between Mesa Roja and Erde Nona. It was an old government installation. Which government? Well, no one really remembered. Whichever institution had a vested interest in the station had long since dissolved or simply ceased caring about the station’s fate. For a long while it was not much more than a floating space hulk that had been gutted for anything valuable. Carcasses of industry, however, always left behind a skeleton. This skeleton was what had interested Zanzibar. With no established owner all he had to do was move in and claim it as his own. It took more than a few favors (and a lot of money), but he managed to rebuild Station Elbrecht.
Officially it was marketed as a resort. And, that was true. Station Elbrecht had all manner of entertainment - from zero-G waterpark to quantum spa, and even a well-stocked zoo. Businessmen would be sent to broker deals in Elbrecht’s luxurious conference rooms; while travelers frequented the several world-class restaurants Elbrecht had to offer. Of course, this wasn’t all the station had to offer. There was a reason Zanzibar chose a station that was so far from planetary jurisdiction. There was money to be had in offering things that no one else could offer legally. Prostitution, drugs, arms, and all sorts of black market offerings were not only sanctioned by Zanzibar, but ultimately controlled by him as well.
Naturally his security was quite formidable. Pirates, after all, were a real threat out in the fringes of space. He kept an employ of bounty hunters and mercenaries. They were there to keep the peace, but also to nab anyone visiting with a price on their head. With state-of-the-art facial recognition surveillance every single person that entered Elbrecht was silently run through a database. Most came back with little more than unpaid parking tickets. Occasionally, however, some unwitting criminal would arrive looking to partake in what Elbrecht had to offer. Without any laws in place to limit rules of engagement Zanzibar’s hunters were able to employ whatever tactic they saw fit. Be it neurotoxin slipped into food, dream curses, or good ol’ fashioned stun guns. Considering their quarry usually had no clue they were being hunted (and were usually sauced up by whatever illegalities they decided to pursue), Zanzibar’s hunters had a 100% success rate.
It was for this reason that his advisor approached him that day. Zanzibar himself was nursing a head cold, and watching the latest episode of Days of Our Hives - a soap opera centered around a sentient hive of humanoid bee people. Just as DiMarcio was about to confess his love for the Queen Angelisa (which was a terrible faux-pa in bee people culture), Zanzibar’s advisor burst in. With a sigh Zanzibar paused the program and turned towards the young man. His advisor, William, was a tweedy man - anal retentive and bookish in all the right ways. William held out a tablet with a video feed of Elbrecht’s space dock.
“What am I looking at?” Zanzibar said, taking a moment to blow his nose.
“Some new arrivals,” William answered, obviously excited. When Zanzibar didn’t respond he followed up expectantly, “Don’t you recognize them?”
Zanzibar furrowed his brow. He grabbed the tablet and studied the video feed. He was an imposing man, though he rarely used this intentionally. His skin was a deep red-brown with purple crystalline growths. Technically he was half human, but his Tentorian lineage all but washed that away - save for opposable thumbs which he greatly appreciated. In the feed he saw four people exit a ship and then converse amongst themselves. Whether it was the cold medicine or ignorance he recognized not a single one of them.
“Should I recognize them?” He finally surrendered.
“Should you?” He repeated, “Boss, between the four of them they’re worth nearly 10,000 coins - if we bring them in we can probably afford those renovations on Splashland that you’ve been eyeing.”
He was hoping to get the quantum jacuzzi installed before Erde spring break. Still, it was hard to work up excitement with just how congested he was. Plus, he felt a bit blue-balled having to pause DiMarcio’s confession like that. After a few moments to collect himself he finally spoke, “Just go ahead and handle it William, send whoever you’d like after them, just don’t bother me again - please, my head is pounding.”
--
Anders scowled as a pack of over-excited businessmen poured from their space-ferry and rushed past him. In their frat-boy excitement they had drifted dangerously close to the swordmage’s personal bubble. Flashing neon signs advertised every available service, alongside holographic displays, and interactive kiosks. Between the chittering of vacationers and the shrill warbling of advertisements he wasn’t sure which was more obnoxious.
“This place is barbaric,” Anders grunted.
Demetri patted him on the back and said, “A bit too much stimulation for you, old man?”
“I can handle stimulation,” He explained, “But this… cacophony is migraine-inducing, how are you supposed to find anything when everything is pulling you in a different direction?”
“Come now, this is not so bad,” the rogue answered with a hint of smug amusement, “I guarantee our little jailbreak will be a thousand times more chaotic.” He was swiftly elbowed in the side by his diminutive, silver-masked partner, and scoffed a grunt in surprise.
Anders looked for support from Aquarius, but the automaton simply shrugged. What was there to say? Elbrecht was as advertised on the tin, loud, exciting, and home to every unconscionable thing you could imagine.
“That does not fill me with confidence,” Anders noted, “But, let’s get this over with.”
In preparation for said jailbreak they would need supplies - supplies sold in abundance on Station Elbrecht. Weaponry, cryptojacks, and all other sorts of bits and bobs designed to make busting out a jailbird effortless. Secondary to this supply run was information gathering. Nightingale and Shadow mentioned they had a contact with links to Arcadia on board. Whether this contact was a businessman looking to get his nose wet or a government official meant little to Anders. He had not the mind for such clandestine things and resolved to defer to their expertise.
Officially it was marketed as a resort. And, that was true. Station Elbrecht had all manner of entertainment - from zero-G waterpark to quantum spa, and even a well-stocked zoo. Businessmen would be sent to broker deals in Elbrecht’s luxurious conference rooms; while travelers frequented the several world-class restaurants Elbrecht had to offer. Of course, this wasn’t all the station had to offer. There was a reason Zanzibar chose a station that was so far from planetary jurisdiction. There was money to be had in offering things that no one else could offer legally. Prostitution, drugs, arms, and all sorts of black market offerings were not only sanctioned by Zanzibar, but ultimately controlled by him as well.
Naturally his security was quite formidable. Pirates, after all, were a real threat out in the fringes of space. He kept an employ of bounty hunters and mercenaries. They were there to keep the peace, but also to nab anyone visiting with a price on their head. With state-of-the-art facial recognition surveillance every single person that entered Elbrecht was silently run through a database. Most came back with little more than unpaid parking tickets. Occasionally, however, some unwitting criminal would arrive looking to partake in what Elbrecht had to offer. Without any laws in place to limit rules of engagement Zanzibar’s hunters were able to employ whatever tactic they saw fit. Be it neurotoxin slipped into food, dream curses, or good ol’ fashioned stun guns. Considering their quarry usually had no clue they were being hunted (and were usually sauced up by whatever illegalities they decided to pursue), Zanzibar’s hunters had a 100% success rate.
It was for this reason that his advisor approached him that day. Zanzibar himself was nursing a head cold, and watching the latest episode of Days of Our Hives - a soap opera centered around a sentient hive of humanoid bee people. Just as DiMarcio was about to confess his love for the Queen Angelisa (which was a terrible faux-pa in bee people culture), Zanzibar’s advisor burst in. With a sigh Zanzibar paused the program and turned towards the young man. His advisor, William, was a tweedy man - anal retentive and bookish in all the right ways. William held out a tablet with a video feed of Elbrecht’s space dock.
“What am I looking at?” Zanzibar said, taking a moment to blow his nose.
“Some new arrivals,” William answered, obviously excited. When Zanzibar didn’t respond he followed up expectantly, “Don’t you recognize them?”
Zanzibar furrowed his brow. He grabbed the tablet and studied the video feed. He was an imposing man, though he rarely used this intentionally. His skin was a deep red-brown with purple crystalline growths. Technically he was half human, but his Tentorian lineage all but washed that away - save for opposable thumbs which he greatly appreciated. In the feed he saw four people exit a ship and then converse amongst themselves. Whether it was the cold medicine or ignorance he recognized not a single one of them.
“Should I recognize them?” He finally surrendered.
“Should you?” He repeated, “Boss, between the four of them they’re worth nearly 10,000 coins - if we bring them in we can probably afford those renovations on Splashland that you’ve been eyeing.”
He was hoping to get the quantum jacuzzi installed before Erde spring break. Still, it was hard to work up excitement with just how congested he was. Plus, he felt a bit blue-balled having to pause DiMarcio’s confession like that. After a few moments to collect himself he finally spoke, “Just go ahead and handle it William, send whoever you’d like after them, just don’t bother me again - please, my head is pounding.”
--
Anders scowled as a pack of over-excited businessmen poured from their space-ferry and rushed past him. In their frat-boy excitement they had drifted dangerously close to the swordmage’s personal bubble. Flashing neon signs advertised every available service, alongside holographic displays, and interactive kiosks. Between the chittering of vacationers and the shrill warbling of advertisements he wasn’t sure which was more obnoxious.
“This place is barbaric,” Anders grunted.
Demetri patted him on the back and said, “A bit too much stimulation for you, old man?”
“I can handle stimulation,” He explained, “But this… cacophony is migraine-inducing, how are you supposed to find anything when everything is pulling you in a different direction?”
“Come now, this is not so bad,” the rogue answered with a hint of smug amusement, “I guarantee our little jailbreak will be a thousand times more chaotic.” He was swiftly elbowed in the side by his diminutive, silver-masked partner, and scoffed a grunt in surprise.
Anders looked for support from Aquarius, but the automaton simply shrugged. What was there to say? Elbrecht was as advertised on the tin, loud, exciting, and home to every unconscionable thing you could imagine.
“That does not fill me with confidence,” Anders noted, “But, let’s get this over with.”
In preparation for said jailbreak they would need supplies - supplies sold in abundance on Station Elbrecht. Weaponry, cryptojacks, and all other sorts of bits and bobs designed to make busting out a jailbird effortless. Secondary to this supply run was information gathering. Nightingale and Shadow mentioned they had a contact with links to Arcadia on board. Whether this contact was a businessman looking to get his nose wet or a government official meant little to Anders. He had not the mind for such clandestine things and resolved to defer to their expertise.