On the Trail (ATTN Xiscapia), FT RP

[Vulnian Empire]

Trade Station Indiaman, Border of the Rylan Dynasty Territory

The bar of the trade station was not a place Sergeni Kostev felt comfortable. He felt the enclosed rotunda design made it hard to keep track of those coming and going and so he had decide to seek a better vantage point on the upper tier. Rylan troops had prevented him from taking any heavy weapons on board but they did allow visitors to carry sidearms and so Sergeni found his hand gripping the heavy plasma pistol in its leather holster on his right thigh as some kind of steadying ritual. Most of the patrons were human and while Vulnians like Sergeni held the appearance of taller, broader humans even he couldn't hide within a sea of racial uniformity.

Any non-Human in the bar found themselves much like Sergeni hovering over to the side. Human factions such as the Rylan Dynasty seemed to compensate for their small swathes of territory and power with racial zeal. What may seem like a good time at a bar could turn sour at the drop of a hat, a mutter or a misunderstanding. While Sergeni was sure that no one would have decided to take a swing at a nine foot alien he didn't exactly credit human intelligence hampered by heavy drinking.

Sergeni ran a hand through his blonde hair, grey eyes peering through the crowds for anyone that could prove to be sources of information; Rylan military officers or port authority figures. People who would know about incoming and outgoing ships. That was the problem with trying to find someone in the galaxy. It was a small needle in a very large haystack yet there were always ways to track bounties. Sergeni figured starting around the point of origin was always a best bet unless the target scrubbed their past. With a sigh he took out a small monocular from his jacket and peered at the various faces with the electronic sight as if hoping in vain to see his target stroll through the door.

[Xiscapia]

Trade Station Indiaman, Border of the Rylan Dynasty Territory...

Against the shapes of fat-bellied cargo haulers and slim customs cutters the Havoc Heavy looked decidedly out of place. With her predatory lines and the two great fuck-off cannons that anchored her "wings" she looked like she might be more at home in a black port somewhere sitting hull-to-hull with a pirate frigate. But here she was anyway, and as neither she nor her pilot had any record at the Indiaman or elsewhere in the Rylan Dynasty the authorities let her through. The heavy fighter had swiveled to dock so she was facing outwards, engines against the berth like she was already raring to take off again. The lack of cockpit transparisteel, or indeed any windows of any kind, made it impossible to see who owned her until he stepped down the ramp.

Michio "The Armory" stuck out just as much as his ship did. In part it was the vibroblade stuck in his belt, and the other in his boot, and the oversized AXES pistol on his right hip, and the Xiscapian wakazashi sword on his back and the empty bandoleer across his chest as well as the scuffed mark on the right shoulder of his jacket where a rifle strap had worn at it. But mostly it was because he was a five foot four kitsune ambling through the halls of the station among all the humans with his right arm raised so he could consult his wrist computer while his left dipped into one of his pockets and pulled out a crumpled cigarette. It was lit by the time he stepped into the bar, and he moved just to the side to keep from blocking the door as he took in the scene. Tail curling, he took a drag off the cigarette in his muzzle and blew it out through his snout as his bright vulpine eyes scanned the room.

There was no sign of his target or any of his men, not that he'd been expecting such. He couldn't see that many port authority officers either though, so that was something. Most law enforcement, he found, took a dim view of people in his line of work. Without any hesitation Michio walked right through the middle of the crowd, sliding between humans until he reached the bar and climbed up onto the stool, plume shifting itself out of the way as he leaned forward with both hands on the counter. "Absinthe," he told the bartender, smoke fuming from his mouth and knows as he spoke around his cigarette. "And I know you're reading my lips right now Serg. C'mon over."

[Vulnian Empire]

Trade Station Indiaman, Border of the Rylan Dynasty Territory

For a moment Sergeni remained on the upper tier despite seeing Michio's silence lip movements. Any sound that could be picked up was lost in the throng of the bar but he got the jist of what the man wanted. With a groan he pushed from his pillar and walked downstairs towards his fellow bounty hunter, watching for any humans looking his way with any hint of hostility. Already his mind was looking for exits, potential weapons, potential hostiles. In the middle of the crowd he couldn't draw and fire his weapon. Too close quarters and the risk of hitting a non-combatant was too great. Instead he'd rely on his racial strength and speed to overcome any human ambush.

After some deliberation he settled beside the Xiscapian and shrugged. "You wanted me?" he asked with his growl-like accent carrying along his distaste for his surroundings. He noticed that the alien had ordered a bright green drink and gave Michio an expression of disapproval. "Really? You couldn't' wait until we got back onto the ship? We're here to work and we may need the credits for...persuading." Sergeni pursed his lips before he shrugged again, turning to lean against the bar.

"Speaking of which....we should find the Port Authority officer. See if he can't be convinced one way or another to recall our target's ship's vector of departure. If he left Rylan space then....perhaps...we may find our paths crossing at a place were we can operate with impunity. Inside Rylan space? These humans will not take kindly to us enforcing the law. All these little kingdoms are the same. Looking inward. Not outward. We must tread carefully...and sober."

[Xiscapia]

Trade Station Indiaman, Border of the Rylan Dynasty Territory...

"Is there a bar on the ship?" Michio took his cigarette between two fingers and laid it on the counter, tapping the ash to the floor before he picked up his drink. Taking a sip, he rolled it around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. Say what one would about the petty kingdoms, at least you could find decent alcohol in their regions. He didn't pay his enormous partner's disapproval any more mind or so much as turn around to face the same direction as him. This way Sergeni watched his back, and he could watch Sergeni's in turn -and the bar had a nice mirror over it that let him see what was happening behind him anyway. His ears did flick when the big Vulnian spoke though.

"Question is how they'd feel about our bounty breaking the law inside Rylan space. But you're right, one of these port authority types could help us out," he took a drag off his cigarette, amber eyes lifted to the mirror. "I spy a group of uniforms in the corner, four it looks like. Course we want just one either way. But they look most convenient." Michio gave Sergeni a sidelong look. "So how do you want to handle this?"