When death knocks on your door

It's often said that capsuleers don't like to get their hands dirty. Or at least not physically dirty. In fact, apparently, most spend little time outside of their pods, even less interacting with baseliners. If you could call this, 'interacting.' I guess I was the exception. I liked getting dirty, doing things myself. It made me feel... connected. Like the effort I was putting in wasn't wasted. I leaned back in focused at the task at hand.

My knife was performing admirably. Cutting, no, that implied more effort than I was expending. Slipping was much more fitting. Slipping between the thin layer of skin, and that of the muscle and fat. Who knew those hunting trips down on the surface of Pator all those years ago would teach me such valuable skills? Or that this knife would remain sharp after so many cuts?

Fresh blood welled on parts of the exposed muscle, providing a slight, sweat like sheen. Severed nerve endings must be pumping an overload of sensation back to their host, speaking of... I looked back up at his face.

My eyes met his, just then a nearly inaudible, but imploring, groan left his lips. He had long since screamed himself functionally mute, but the drugs I had pumping through his system kept him awake enough to feel everything. His breaths pushed small drips of blood from his mouth, his tongue swollen now, pressing against his ragged teeth.

I went back to work on his body, a bit impressed he had lasted this long, but not impressed by his other failings. 'He' was the captain of a merchant ship in Amarr space, 'he' had operated for me in the Sasen Constellation. 'He' wasn't a capsuleer or this torture would have been largely irrelevant, but 'he' HAD committed a cardinal sin.

It wasn't every simple, a while back, perhaps a year or more ago, he started working for someone else before leaving my employ. Trying to double down on profits I suppose. His mistake was working with the very people I was having him spy on. Some Angel Cartel slavers, the very people I was using him to keep an eye on. Sometimes watching Angels was easier when you weren't doing so from a pod. Compounding that mistake, he had gotten caught by the otherwise inept Amarr customs navy, loaded down with small arms I was supplying certain cells on certain planets with, and a contraband load of slaves.

I didn't blame him for singing like a bird to the local authorities after his capture, singing a sweet deal indeed. I suppose he didn't think he would ever be found again, or he just hoped he would not. His real sin was singing a tune that revealed a well placed cell of anarchists. Endangering several more I had set in place years ago. Most of their number had been captured and lost to the Amarr system, likely never to be seen again.

It had taken a bit of asking around, sometimes more aggressively than others, but eventually Jasper, now in attendance, had been uncovered. Hours ago I watched the surprise cross his face, when he stepped out into his kitchen, surprised to find the Amarr guards, gone.

His face had gone from surprise to fear fairly quickly when I stepped towards him, probably some lingering childhood fears about a Bhaalgorn. I could almost detect a moment of relief when he saw my face in the deep hood and not that of a demon. His relief was short lived, I suppose, but it had been there all the same.

Now it was all winding down. I had some information I hadn't really asked for that had made this little trip more profitable than I expected. I'd anonymously tip the footage to some news outlets, maybe the local police. I hadn't looked at the feed since I started. Nor would I as I left. My face would not show, a small holographic inlay would present a black hole on the footage where my face would have been.

I barely heard him speak, his raspy voice still somehow triumphant, but it was as if the words he said locked my body in place while kicking my mind kicked into overdrive.

"Layette Friary."

It was a name, one I had been avoiding since an incident near a year and a half ago. I was never able to get any information about that name from the assassin who had muttered it with his dying breath. I had changed operational locations because of that name. Changed contacts, not to mention burned still more contacts and operatives in an attempt to kill a man. THAT little fiasco had led to me seeing my sister through a sniper's scope at the same time I saw the man I had until then, been determined to kill, and their child.

I looked up again, but a small, bloody smile was all that greeted me. Jasper, was gone. Rage boiled up inside me, much deeper rage than the loss of a cell, no matter how well placed. I wanted to drive my fist through Jasper's chest, to stomp in impotent fury, assault his body with my knife, or better yet my bare hands, instead I stood there a moment, feeling defeat wash over me, a stark contrast to Jasper, who's skin was hanging off his body like stretched red rags.

107 posts, 107 mil sp

No, really, I planned this.

Okay maybe not.

So I am up to 107 mil sp with Logan, and have done pretty much everything I want to skill-wise with Logan, sub-cap. I would like suggestions with what to do next. Look at my skill sheet (now closed).

No I will not be training towards flying a Orca/Exhumer/freighter/supercap, but other possibilites include getting my electronics skills to 5, ie all the assorted ewar skills to 5 so I can be maxed out for TD's, damps, ECM, and TP. Other possibilities include Marauder 5, Command Ship 5, and all the assorted carrier and dread skills?

What do you guys think I should do next? I've gotten a lot of "shield comps to IV" so that is likely already on the list.

I will leave my sheet open to the public for a week or so and then lock it back down once I have chosen my path. One remap is available so I can always get out of the good ole leadership doing charisma set of attributes!

Here is my current skill breakdown for those who are interested.

Rise of Rebel, Part 4, Subjugation

If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong.
- Abraham Lincoln

It had been impossible to adjust, being looked at like meat, like a dumb, obedient dog. Crammed in the tight quarters with the rest of the chained circles of slaves. Weeks and then months ground by, each second worse than the last. To some extent I felt bad for my behavior then, but I never knew what it would lead to. I resisted the guards, preventing our purchase because of my struggles. Growled at the interested buyers, scared them away. Slaves who came in after us were bought before us, Ammarian Holders and other "decent" slavers (according to Bulkar at least) left us alone like we carried a plague. Most didn't have to come close when inspecting the slave groups to know I was the problem, the guards let them know, and started showing us off to the worst of an already bad lot.

Rozor was the first to snap. I let his fists rain on me, wishing, hoping he would hit something vital that the guards missed, and put me out of this life. Without a family, without my family, I was nothing. Worth nothing, beaten, shunned, I sat outside the circle, but still chained to it. I slipped further and further into a depression unlike any I had faced. There would not be such an easy escape from this life.

Rozors beating did what the guard hadn't. Buyers kept coming through, and at some point I was too weak, too tired to make a stand anymore, to care anymore. We were purchased by some Angel Cartel toughs, the fact that we were simple labor seemed to meet their requirements, that we were all so beaten down, I'm sure that didn't hurt. By then I had lost weight and any muscle I had. They shocked, beat and collared us with electric collars for control on the journey through the smuggler gates of eve. The slight lurch in my stomach at each jump was the only thing that let me count the jumps, 33, to our destination. If that was in a straight line, or just a route to avoid customs....

The ship we were in rumbled into a rough dock and we were shuffled off the ship like so much cattle. Pushed and prodded still, we made our way to the small casino in the middle of the outpost. As the toughs took their payments for delivery to the casino's tables, we were taken by a new set of grim and humorless overlords, assigned menial jobs as if we were not there, in area's we had no idea how to get to. Then taken and beaten until we "learned some respect for our new masters." 


There was no escape, the outpost was isolated in dead space, that forbidden zone between civilization and the dark of space that somehow managed to be neither. It around then that with a final sickening hurt I knewI had been broken, and I worked as if my life depended on it, the deep dark depression now turning into something darker, something that made me want to excel at what they asked me to do, as if that would convince them to save me. I hated myself for it, but couldn't help it, I lived, I rejoined my brother slaves as another to their ranks. It was around then that a new leader of the facility, Thomas, showed up. He must have been the son, or cousin, of someone powerful in the Cartel. Power radiated off him like so much heat and the deference the guards gave him stunk of connections.

He took joy in "training the slaves personally." There was nothing any of us could do, right or wrong, to be spared. During the day we worked like janitors, cleaning up the aftermaths of parties, unloading stores from ships and slaughters when fights broke out. 


Uldrik had been the first to get a taste of the pain doled out by Thomas like candy. Our group was one of few on the casino, all broken men, scared of the fist, of the glance of the guards, or the bite of their discipline. It wasn't enough control for Thomas, he desired more. His men came to the small quarters the five of us shared, pressing the rag that passed as our door to the side for Thomas. He stepped in and looked us over, thumbing a single six sided die between his palm and thumb. The game, as it were, was explained to us, slowly, deliberately. He would roll a single six sided die. If he rolled a six he said, "Then I'll move on, all nice-like." At first you start out hoping for a six. This time I was a five, he rolled a two.

Uldrik was pulled from the room, wet smacks and thuds the only sounds we could hear. I cried, wishing it was me instead, that his pain was my fault, if only I had gotten us sold sooner...

Uldrik was deposited back in the room, bleeding from the eyes and ears, we did our best to cover for him, but he was never quite the same. He lost hearing in his right ear, his right eye kept a deep red hue. It was then that we started talking of escape, of some kind of life where Thomas, where these Angel thugs wouldn't own us anymore. Dreams of lost freedom. Foolish dreams.

Desperate hopes for men trapped deep inside dead space, in some system they didn't even know the name of. Some claim planning escape is almost as important as completing it, but planning for escape, for freedom, is false hope if there is no real chance of it. Bulkar had been the hardest to convince of the need to plan, but then of course we weren't with his precious god-fearing Amarr, who would "never let this kind of treatment of slaves stand." We were with the heartless Angles, we thanked their lack of toxins to control us. Physically, psychologically, it didn't matter.

Thomas had been initially sated by the damage he caused on the slaves. He still trained the guards how to "handle" us better. Their beatings were brutal, more so than before, but at least Thomas left us alone.

We didn't expect it to last; it didn't last. 

He came back, with the same die, only changing our numbers, he had a knack of finding the weakest of us each time. Bulkar came back with ragged, lazy knife cuts across his chest, mumbling incoherently to himself, it took weeks before he made sense or even spoke to the rest of us again. Rozor was next, his pinky fingers and small toes broken and splinted and then re-broken. The pain was to remind him of the grace that Thomas left him alive each day. It was weeks before he was allowed to get the nanobot medical injections to help heal his toes, his pinkies still turned at crooked angles to the rest of his hand. Rozor remained defeated, but still somehow defiant through all of it, drawing from some central core strength I wish I had. Somewhere along the line I stopped wishing for a six, and just wished for anything but my number.

My turn was next. Thomas strode in, and told me I was number four. Blind, callous hope spread through my body, four had never showed up on the die before, I was hoping to be spared. Then die stubbornly rolled to a stop on four, laying between us, slaves and master. Thomas looked unsurprised and his guards took me into the hall. I should have resisted, should have fought, but I walked meekly along with them.


He stood there, staring at me for a long time, and did nothing. I, in turn, stared at the ground, feeling his eyes on my head. His guards pushed me to the ground and Thomas stood over me, as if gloating, looking down at me as I knelt. I felt something deep inside of me stir, but I wasn't sure what, it was deeper than the fear, the depression, even hate, the sensation seemed somehow familiar, I knew it, but couldn't remember the name of the feeling. It rose as the moments crept by, I suddenly knew that it was hope, hope that this was all he needed from me, that maybe the others had been defiant, deserving in their beatings, that I was safe. I clung to it as the last emotion I had. 

Then blows came. Only after the hope was pounding in my chest. His sharp, hard kicks and knee's to my chest, compressed the air out of me explosively, and he never stopped for a instant, letting me feel each blow and creak as my chest took each blow. I kept my eyes closed, unable to take a breath, taking kick after kick, each one twisting that hope inside of me, driving it into my heart more effectively than any toxin could, cutting me open far more effectively than any knife. I started hoping that each blow would be the last, that I would live and serve just to avoid one more kick, one more knee...

When he was done, when we were done, I would have thanked him for stopping, for each breath, if I could have spoken. I had tears running down my cheeks, I remembering wanting to thank him for stopping, as if he couldn't stop before then, as if he did me a favor for beating the hope out of me at all. I spat out mouthfuls of blood from the gouges my teeth had taken out of my cheeks, but the tears were of happiness, I had deserved it, he was right to punish me. He had taken that brief hope and turned it into a twisted kind of fear, obedience. I'm not sure what my injuries were, I coughed up blood for weeks, my chest ached for months more.

Thomas never returned for Kolf, he didn't need to. Broken in spirt now, our quaint little escape plans were just the feeble mess that hoped for a empty container and deep dark space.

The exact spot we found ourselves now.

Criminal is in the Name

EVEOGANDA : Criminal Intentions

First let me state, that as in my comment there, I will not be sitting over here trying to convince Rixx's character that he is a criminal. Self perception being what it is... let's just say that is futile, and would be like trying to convince Stalin that what he was doing was evil and unjust, he certainly didn't see it that way.

The idea that "nobody" controls lowsec just simply isn't true and can be clearly defined by looking in the upper left corner.

This is taken from just some random screenshot I found online, I didn't have time this morning to fly all the way to Rixx's home system in lowsec just to make a point on my blog! It clearly states "Sovereignty > Amarr Empire" and if Rixx still lives in List then it likely says Sov is Gallente. Out in Syndicate, it says Sov > Syndicate. Even when you engage in combat against a neutral, non-flashy target, your GCC lists (usually) the Empire/Republic/whatever that is pissed at you for engaging in combat in highsec, and lowsec, but not in nullsec.

"Sovereignty is the quality of having supreme, independent authority over a geographic area, such as a territory."

Sure there are no police, faction or otherwise in Lowsec, as are present in Highsec, but it's a lot like the wild west analogy brought up by Rixx. One where if you jump into the real fort (aka highsec) or to an outpost (aka stations in lowsec or gates) the guns will engage you and your criminal acts (Global CRIMINAL countdown, security status punishments and restrictions) are punished in some fashion or another. I'd get into a million game design arguments here but I really don't think that 15 minutes is a fair offset for fighting in lowsec, it should be much shorter (5 minutes). In lowsec, Law is "enforced" or maybe better explained by "represented" by your security status. Kill enough ships, pilots, pods etc, and your security status drops below -5.0 making you "flashy"until you use another broken mechanic to rat your way back above -5.0.

Punishments in lowsec may be light in comparison to highsec (CONCORDOKKEN) but they are still present and are enforced by the controlling parties and Concord in the case of your sec status.

Ships of all sizes do indeed have crew, so although the pod might or might not escape and the legality of destroying another players pod is questionable (although with the monstrous sec status hit one takes for killing a pod strongly suggests that it is illegal). Digressions aside, it has long been established in PF, or as cannon that ships, even frigates, do indeed have crews in addition to the capsuleer.

Now survival rates and "real math" aside (that would lead to the startling knowledge that the eve universe would be facing near extinction with the current crew losses faced on a day-to-day basis). The proof is in the pudding that fights and kills in lowsec made against other capsuleer ships do cause casualties, and is a pretty solid crutch used in RP, as by this token we are all mass murderers to some extent (especially you high-sec red + killing people, those ships have crew too!).

This image, shamelessly stolen from a post entitled "Your frigates have crew" on Backstage (thank you Victoria Valadeus, of KotMC), and originally from a Dev blog on the same subject, clearly shows that there is sizable crew on most ships and even room for passengers with the maximum capacity stat. Survival stats are much lower than I would expect(I think it should be closer to 80-90% survival or more across the board), however, people are sure to die as a result of Rixx's ship opening fire on them.

Now on to the more philosophical argument, does Logan and by extension Rixx understand what they are doing?

I am sure Logan, the character, is aware, he knows some of his crews, and understands loss all to well. Does this deter him from fighting? No, as he also is aware of his cause, outlined by Stimulus, requires bloodshed to enlighten and advance their cause. To him these deaths are justified, further, he sees himself as a freedom fighter on a scale that not even pilots of Ushra'Khan can comprehend.

Rixx on the other hand seems, judging by Rixx blog post, chooses to either not understand the deaths he inflicts or marginalizes them by not choosing to acknowledge their deaths, or instead, like pirates, claims to own his own house and only direct force to bring him to justice would label him a criminal. Or that he is simply defending his home, albeit aggressively.

Criminals aren't "criminals" because they are in jail, they are criminals long before then, judged by acts they commit. In the confines of this game, capsuleers are largely "above" the law of concord in null and lowsec with the obvious exceptions (gate guns, sec status). Does this freedom grant us, as capsuleers, the ability to stand above the repercussions of our actions, I think the answer there is a resounding yes. If every time one broke a "law" in Eve or murdered an innocent, you were punished fully, I think Eve would take a bit of a turn for the dull.

While certainly individual capsuleers in eve each have different view to death and loss in eve, and the destruction that they cause, and others cause. I'll wrap it up here and just simply say that to some level we are all criminals in eve, all the rest is up to perception, both yours and theirs.

Always toward absent lovers love's tide stronger flows (Part Five)

The assault on the casino started small, a small explosion at the gates as a heavy truck pressed past the reenforced gates like they were hardly there. Automated turrets slid from concealment all around the complex, taking aim at the speeding truck. As they finished deploying the truck shimmered, putting off a cross between heat and static. My equipment was far enough away to not be caught in the blast, but the electro-magnetic pulse was localized enough to damage or disable most of the turrets, their guns locking in place, or slumping ineffectively. The only turrets left operational were on the far side of the complex. Well out of the fight, as was the large truck, now immobile.

Security wasn't long in reacting to the sudden change in environment, groups of dark suited men clumped out of the casino, supplemented by groups of uniformed and hired thugs. I picked up my binoculars and focused in on the group nearest the gatehouse, sporadic gunfire crackling now from both the diversion and ahead from the casino. Both cells seemed to be in full action. Granted they both represented different causes at each spot, but both were working perfectly.

My anarchists slid up the hill, from cover to cover, returning fire, the casino's security guards fighting mostly exposed against the building were taking casualties. A second group of them held the underground exit. They were dishing out as well as they were taking, maybe more so. The teams there had heavier weapons, and were firing from more concealed positions. The tenor of the battle was changing, security forces had much heavier weapons than anticipated.

Some of the security teams were isolated but were taking cover now, having made the distance between the parking lot and garden. The ones that weren't, were either dead or running back inside. A ripping explosion drew me back to the underground parking lot, a thread of smoke led back to the underground lot, a large fireball expanded from what used to be a strong point in the advancing anarchists line. The sight of the scattered terrorists drew my lips into a grimace, I reached down and grabbed my rifle, just in time to see a second missile rip into the anarchists.

Security was turning the tide of the fight, but all might not be lost yet. I pulled the rifle into line, leaning into the scope, snugging the butt of the rifle into my shoulder. I moved the scope over the fight, yet another missile spanning the distance between the now retreating anarchists and the security forces. Scattered groups were running headlong from the fighting now, the warning sounds of sirens moving towards the casino inspired more movement from the anarchists, they were now disengaging wholesale.

I spun the rifle to the back of the casino. I had missed Harcourts driver and security detail move his car to the back entrance. I hadn't missed him leaving, yet. His security was focused mainly towards the now more sporadic gunfire from the front of the casino. The door moved open, my finger tightening on the trigger, it was only 5 maybe 7 feet between door and car. This rifle was special, loading a single, high explosive round. Specially designed to fly to the point of target, it took all the skill out of being a sniper.

First out was Harcourt, his grey eyes scanning the area quickly before reaching behind him to guide his heir, his son out the door. His hair was salt and pepper now, but my intel photographs marked him true. I could feel my mouth curling in disgust at the sight of the little runt and his father. I tracked them both to the car, Harcourts security must have been holding everyone else inside to insure his safe getaway. Next out would be his wife, through all my research on him, I had not been able to find an identity of his wife. The poor woman must want to die, living with such a corrupted, evil man.

His wife was bent over, hiding from the gunshots she perceived aimed at her, raven black hair tickling something in the back of my mind. He covered her to the car, she stood straight just before ducking in. The rifle caught a glimpse of her face and pulled it to the side, the sight stopped me cold. A sudden cold sweat trickled down between my shoulder blades.

The image captured by the gun, was a spitting image of my dead sister, her black hair a different style now, but the scar just above her eye from where her first puppy had bitten her. It haunted me from my dreams, mostly from my nightmares. Here she was, with Harcourt, with their son. The rifle sagged on my shoulder, my finger twitching on the trigger, the round firing high over the car, barely missing Harcourt, striking a security officer in the chest before exploding ageist the wall, the high explosive round shattering the side of the building.

Harcourt's car peeled out from the side of the casino, and tears ran down my cheeks, unabated. My sister was alive, I couldn't kill her and her family like her husband had killed mine. The gun clattered to the ground, single fire self destruct active. It's slow beeping narrating my memories of her. First I saw her when I was just a kid, she was a few years older than me, the oldest of our family. She raised the small dog up to her face, the thing had snapped at her playfully, catching the ring in her eyebrow.  The dog hadn't understood, or cared. She cried out in pure pain, still careful to place the dog on the ground before tending to her wound.

In less than a week she had been back with the dog, her face roughly bandaged, she loved that dog. I hadn't seen her since the day before we'd been attacked. I checked the records when I had been freed, slavers didn't keep accurate records, anything but a count. I'd tried but had never been able to find anything. I refocused, and realized I had left the roof, my body doing it's best to keep me safe a vague memory of the beeping growing in intensity as the det charge on the rifle grew nearer to execution.

For the first time I wished I had never left TXW, I desperately wanted to be back with Usagi. I moved through the hallways of the hotel like a ghost, reaching the lobby from the emergency stairs as the sniper rifle exploded on the roof. Security and police rushed by, ignoring the crying Minmatar exiting the building. I didn't attempt to conceal my capsuleer status as I exited, reaching the station, transferring more money to the anarchists I had left behind. They would have to tend for themselves. I numbly travelled back to the station just a planet distant, enabling my neocom just long enough to buy a shuttle and prep it for launch. It would take less than 24 hours to travel back to TXW.

Always toward absent lovers love's tide stronger flows (Part Four)

Nobody had came out into the alley when the screams started, or stopped. I had to leave the knife behind, but at least I had a name. A name I hadn't heard of before. The name had turned quickly into a dead end, perhaps he had been lying, or too far gone to tell the truth. Nobody had known who he was talking about. Maybe it was just his name I ended up with, or worse a new player I didn't know.

Frustrated, I had cursed the lost time, and re-focused on the real reason I was there. For the first time in years one of the slave traders linked to my enslavement even more years ago, would be out in the open, more importantly, with his family. It would only be fair, he and his family for mine. It would be a waste of assets in this place to kill him, but I was well past worrying about those ramifications.

First I had to flush him into the open, for that I had to use some of the cells to form a diversion. Yesterday, after the attack on me I had heard rumors that my target, and family, had showed up to the same casino they would be today, betting and watching the capsuleers Alliance tournament. One cell would rush the casino, eliminating the guards, while another distracted the local police, with a suicide bombing aimed at their headquarters just blocks away.

I couldn't bring myself to call him by name, Harcourt Durand. He had financed the raid on the backwater colony my family had lived on. The raiders had been brutal in separating men from wives, parents from children, in an effort to keep them all under control. Honestly, it hadn't taken much to find his involvement, his financing for these kinds of raids wide-spread in their notoriety. It was just a shame the slaver who had actually done the work had died before I had gained my freedom.

The Casino grounds were wide, spread out in a show of luxury on an otherwise back-water planet. It wasn't well known, but it was well protected, and well designed. Automated defenses did most of the work, covering the approaches and doors with equal vigilance. Probably using the most sophisticated intelligence and sensors to determine threat from guest, likely under the direct fire control of one or two controllers in the security building.

I hadn't had any hand in helping the cell design their attack on the Casino, to them it was a symbol of the corruption in this sector. Money that should have gone into their schools, or to promote more jobs in the area went instead into helping build this. It wouldn't be long now before they got their chance for some payback.

I moved to the other corner of the overlooking building, towards the diversion, but left the massive rifle where it lay at the casino's corner, next the the rumpled security officer I'd found up here. He'd recover, but that recovery would be slowed by the drugs I'd put in his system to keep him quiet and out of the way for the next hour or more.

The diversion was the classical choice, a nondescript government building, some kind of tax organization or another. The important factor was it was a easy target, the cell hitting it was small, and expendable. Their plan I had fully vetted, the diversion being usually more important than the main attack. Some of their number would slide into the building, others waiting just around the corner. The advanced group would take out security camera's and guards without anyone sounding the alert. The plan didn't hinge on the lack of an alert, but it helped.

Once security was down, the other teams would rush in and get as many people out as they could, while others planted the bombs. Then they would also evacuate the building. Anyone left inside would be collateral damage. It was harsh, but the more attention pulled there would be the less response to the casino. I wrapped my hands around my binoculars, waiting…

-------

I didn't see or hear anything for a long time, each minute that passed made my heart rise in my chest, I wandered back to the other side of the building using the scope to scan the casino. Harcourt's vehicle was already there, he and his family safely inside through one of the underground entrances, but after the attack, there would be no where to go but out the doors and into his car. Looking back over at the federal building, nerves ran amok in my head. I started running through everything that could go wrong. Not that I could expect to hear from that team until the explosion, I just wish I could have heard anything.

Police radios and emergency networks were too encrypted to listen-in to easily, so all I could do was wait. I heard and then saw first one and then a second police car whine around the building I was in at high speed, headed directly for the diversion, their passing directly preceding the whip-snap of high velocity gunfire in the distance, muted by the streets. I checked the timeline, no surprise one of the guards, or the automated system had alerted. It was already a race against time.

I pounded my fist against the side of the roof, heading back to my binoculars to watch. I couldn't see anything through them, just watch the steady stream of police headed in that direction, fire and medical units passing by slowly, well behind the line of fire. Some one must have detonated a bomb early, the single loud crack and sudden surge of smoke over the rooftops confirming it.

A ripple of other cracks sounded shortly afterwards, deep black smoke bellowing from the middle of the city, the diversion had been successful, to a point at least, two more police patrols passed the bottom of the five story building I stood atop. Now for the main attraction.

Always toward absent lovers love's tide stronger flows (Part Three)

My bed felt empty when I woke, I allowed myself a few minutes for my mind to catch up with my body. I had landed here just under 24 hours ago, between organizing weapons, and talking to contacts I had only made it back to my second apartment in the city at just past day midnight as they called it here.  That'd be roughly 0500 standard, still hours before sunrise, actually just heading into dark, a rough 3 hours ago. Days were long, but so were the nights.

I had been recognized by the various cell leaders I managed to contact yesterday. A interesting group of fighters if I had ever met any. The thing about creating a stimulus was you didn't need to find people who's views matched yours exactly, just ones with influence, resources, and malice usually were good enough. The first group had started out as a militia going nowhere quickly, looking to expand their credibility by pulling off something "large." They'd be the hired muscle in this case, lots of guns, very little experience or intelligence. A perfect distraction.

Some of my other cells, though I doubt they would love being called that if they found out who else they were 'working' with, included various independent hackers, anarchist groups, and a single old Rote crewman who had grown tired of the good life after retiring from a STUGH battleship just after AT8. Likely just after watching my Bhaalgorn get torn to pieces. He had been most helpful, but wouldn't be participating further.

I slid out of bed, still mostly dressed, I had left my boots on, the shirt resting over a chair close to the bed. Today would be my chance to get ready, and clear any remaining trail back to me. A rustle drew my attention to the wooden, though metal reinforced front door. Feet moved on the other side and I tensed, soft whispers just barely registering with my enhanced hearing.

My time was up in this apartment, I grabbed my leather jacket, my mind taking off at incredible speed, the apartment was on the second floor, overlooking a convenient escape stairwell mounted to the side of the building. Windows be damned, I plowed through, my crash corresponding to crash of some kind of ram, or person slamming into the front door of what was previously my apartment. I landed sideways on the stairs, using my momentum to propel me over my back and onto my feet, tearing off down the single flight of stairs, my booted feet crunching noisily in the alleyway. I looked back just in time to see a pinched Amarr face peer out the window.

Looking out like that always confused me and I wished for a weapon to reduce my tail by one. I barreled around the corner, just as three pursuers, including the Amarrian, made it onto the balcony. They were too slow by seconds, sheer luck had saved me this time. I wasn't clear yet.

My heart beat in my ears, drowning out the sound of any pursuit, and of my footsteps. I pounded down one street and then the next, ducking into the dark alleyway, noticing for the first time the oppressive darkness all around and the chill in the air. Implants activated deep in my skull, lightening the surrounds, a small overlay map appearing in view at just the right place. It networked sounds and sensory inputs too small for my brain to make out to map the local area, just two angry red place markers falling off behind me. I threw on my coat to combat the cold and mute my sounds a bit, aiming towards a corner that would hopefully lead me back to a main street, where ambush was less likely.

I near slid to a stop around the next corner, the Ammarian inches away from me, slug thrower raised just below my shoulder level. A bad place for him, especially given the surprise registering on his face, he must not have expected me so soon. My body crouched, more by instinct than command, my right arm was leading around the corner, it popped up slam against the gun-holding fore arm, jarring the gun up and to the side, the bang of the gun rattled my eardrums, some kind of hasty suppressor reducing the crash of the high velocity slug to a bark.

The Amarrian, to his credit, did not wait to see if his shot had landed, his other hand was already in motion, heading towards a nasty looking knife concealed in the folds of his pants. It came up towards me with incredible speed. My left hand met his just above his wrist, denying his first thrust by redirecting it outwards, my right arm and hand pivoting to twist around his right, taking the gun out of the fight while I was able to stay inside his arm span.

My left hand balled and struck while his side was exposed, striking his exposed armpit before I came at him again, my fist connecting with the side of his face, sending him limply to the ground, his face bleeding, or possibly that was my knuckles. I realized I was still holding his gun arm, and relieved him of the gun, a smallish caliber pistol, well worn, with a improvised silencer attached to the end.  The two other goons crested the turn behind me, winging barking shots off the wall next to us both. I ducked back, considering taking the Amarrian out of the fight, more permanently.

The two other goons took that option away from me by charging me in a show of sheer bravery. One that I ended with three shots, the first one, quiet, impacted in the ground next to goon one's boot. The next took goon two just below the sternum, dropping him mid run to the floor as the impact and exit of the bullet separated his spine from his body, tossing it all over the ground behind him. No body armor, I mentally noted, and moved on to my next shot. One that should have missed, but goon one, failing to continue his luck from the first shot, dove towards me. Firing his gun, like a bad holo-drama, as he flew through the air towards the ground. Not surprisingly, his shots missed by a wide margin. My third shot was headed for the ground, an easy miss if the goon hadn't dove towards it, bullet three met goon one's eyeball and exploded, with the bullet and remnants of his brain, out the back of his head. It was the kind of crazy thing that can only happen in a fight for life and death.

The Amarrian stirred at my feet and I have him a short, sharp kick to the side of his head for his trouble, reaching down to take the knife from his limp hand. My map resolved in my vision again, apparently the Amarrian hadn't gotten so much in front of me as I had run in a tight circle, taking two lefts, a right and then three lefts. I smirked, nearly as smart as some of the things I said to Usagi. It was time to see who, and why. The knife was deceptively sharp for it's size, I made sure to dull the blade on the wall while waiting for my visitor to wake. It also took about that long for my hands to stop trembling.

Always toward absent lovers love's tide stronger flows (Part two)

It always was a thrill sneaking through security, though basically perfect forgeries and identities were a dime a dozen for someone with the resources of a capsuleer, sneaking past a Federal ID checkpoint always served to pour in the adrenaline. One person ahead of me, a short, loud and rather foul smelling Intaki businessman chatted with the security as they read through his paperwork. Though corruption had fairly gutted most of the credibility of anyone on this planet but the federal guards, they were still serious. I moved up, my turn.

The fedralist stared at my ID and then back up to me, quiet as he regarded yet another minmatar worker staring down at him. He took his time checking my name against various warrants, known criminals, CONCORD pirates. I showed up in none, well, I guess I should say that my current ID showed up in none of the databases and I was shuttled through as just another traveller, a migrant worker even, my pod jacks hidden by the tall collars of my currently in fashion jacket. It was a small grace against the hot wind blowing in from outside, but a welcome distraction from any further questions.

I had taken more detours and shuttles than I could count. If it weren't for the small computer keeping track of my movements, I would have been lost by now.  Instead after just short of 24 hours of travel, and 20 hours of sleep. I was inside the, well let's just call it, personal hell. At least it wouldn't be for much longer, if everything went to plan.

It had been a while since I last stepped foot planet side. Dust tickled my nose as I stepped outside, the planets 1.13g, more than what I was used to, but not uncomfortably so. To fit in a bit more I had removed the spikes from my forehead, dropping them off along the way, along with my other piercings. It was tough to fit in more than that, even on a Gallente world.

The first stop was to a small apartment I rented months prior, a change of clothes immersing me into the local culture. Tight leather greyish pants hugged my body closely, a red and white slashed t-shirt covered my chest, I slipped of my more simple sneakers in favor of heavier boots. I stopped by the mirror, chuckling at the image, briefly wondering what Usagi would think. Turning slightly, I think I knew. I waited for the flush of that thought to clear my cheeks before heading back out.

My usual mohawk somewhat subdued after hours of travel, drooping more from the heat in the air. Moving through the streets unnoticed was easy, even if people had been paying attention. Eyes down, minding my own business I easily escaped notice of the three Police just outside the hotel, not that anyone would have reason to expect any trouble. I certainly didn't. The lobby was nice enough, squalor by podder standards of course, a simple polished rock entry way, with a small bar to the left.

The bar was less than impressive, the heat in the bar some ten times that of the outside.  Probably to let the men and women inside wear as little clothing as possible. The heat formed pinpricks of sweat on my forehead, joined quickly by the rest of my body. I brushed the sweat off my forehead irritably with the back of my hand, scanning the bar, heading to one of the tables in the back.

I had to weave through several throngs of dancing teens, the table I was headed to had five occupants already, a bit older than the rest of the crowd, but still unconsciously swaying to the beat of the music thrumming through the air.

They turned as I approached, one of their team holding a gun on me. I hoped they remembered me, or I would be off to a bad start.

Always toward absent lovers love's tide stronger flows (Part one)

I awoke slowly, the soft buzz of my alarm in the back of my ear, waking me and not my sleeping companion. Our naked bodies were twisted together, meeting in the most intimate of places. I looked down her back, noting with a satisfied grin the scratch marks on her back, my hand innocently cupping her hip, the sheets half covering us both.

I lay there for a moment, enjoying her so soft skin against mine. I willed my hand to slide down and squeeze her supple ass, her back arching, pressing against me as I did. I let out a quiet noise of approval, running, no, scratching, my fingertips up the curve of her ass before removing my hand from her.

I disengaged my body reluctantly from Usagi's, leaning down to kiss her neck as I withdrew, intentionally leaving the covers where they lay. The view was more than worth it. Picture worthy even, soft light pushing through the tinted window in my bedroom doing wonderful things to the curves of her body. Wonderful enough to consider getting back into bed and waking her, again, but the annoying, insistent inner ear drone of my alarm wouldn't let me. I turned to my closet, blindly reaching in for a pair of pants and shirt hanging there, my eyes unwilling to leave the sight on the bed for long. The cool shirt slid over my chest, over the red marks left by her fingers, on my back and covering the marks on my chest from her teeth, yes, it had been a good night.

There was a soft Napanii murmur behind me as I turned around, looking back at her, this time her eyes on me, and I couldn't tell if she was enjoying the show or sad to see me go, or both. Technically we were in my quarters, but I was still the one leaving. I pulled on my pants, grabbing finally for the jacket strewn on the floor, I took one last, long, glance over my shoulder and then stepped out.  I had spent more of my time looking at Usagi then getting ready, and was already late.

------

The next four days would be critical, various cells were becoming impatient, and understandably so. I had set them up for years. Carefully plotted their hate and ambition to meet the needs of my cause instead of theirs. Taking each cell and placing them carefully at the throats of others. I took my seat on the small, inconspicuous shuttle for second time in as many weeks. Last week had just been observation, watching, testing, putting final things in play.

This weekend wasn't just going to be the opening rounds of this years Alliance Tournament, but the settling of a score long overdue. I leaned back into the seat, muttering about the overly long loading time, even though the loading time had saved me from missing the shuttle entirely. The flight times of the interbus shuttles would seem forever as opposed to flying myself, but I needed to be unnoticed. I closed my eyes, the image of Usagi on my bed appearing behind my eyelids, a small involintary grin appearing on my lips, her smoldering gaze looking up at me, it sent a pleasant, if sad shiver up my spine. My eyes snapped open when the hiss of the shuttle compressing met my ears.

I turned to the small window, watching the ship slide out of the TXW-EL station, headed towards Vestouve and Empire, a STUGH and then Veto. vagabond undocking in unison, their capsuleers blissfully unaware of our shuttle just to the side of them, the lean HACs twisting towards the 5-F gate. I turned away from the window, tucking my hand under my chin, willing the time to pass faster. Settling this score would be nice, but at this point, getting back might even be nicer.

The right height.

The past couple days had gone by in a grumpy haze. I had gone out in fleets, or at least tried too, but not even that had eased my mood. Despite the bomber kill I got while trying to stir up trouble.

I sighed, staring into the terminal screen, noting that I would once again not be able to make it to the Friday night fleet, one I had hoped to make this week, and not just because I had promised Cass my guardian.  I wish I had another glass to throw.

I stood and stepped out of my bedroom, making my way over to my well stocked bar.  Well, kitchen I suppose it was called, not that I bothered cooking all that often anymore. I pushed around some bottles, mentally shutting down the nanites that swarmed my blood usually, keeping me from getting drunk, sick, drugged, or otherwise killed and took a long pull from a older, half full bottle of tequila. The stuff always got me into trouble.

It burned all the way down to the pit of my stomach, as did the second and third gulps. I took a deep breath and turned, placing my hands on the island sat in the middle of my kitchen, looking out the window into TXW. I just couldn't keep my mind from wandering, stood there for some time, staring out into space but seeing anything but. Everyone's got their own demons, women always happened to be mine.

Idly I reached back to the bottle of tequila lifting it to my lips a few more times, the warm feeling spreading from my stomach down my arms and legs. Whispered thoughts and ideas coming into clarity and then action.  I primped a bit before leaving, clean shirt, pants, hair more organized than usual, adding a little more cologne to cover the smell of the tequila I could feel in my veins.

I checked the clock, 0225, she was notorious for showing up to fleets, in pod, ready to go, very early. It would be hard to explain to her she needed to come out of her pod for them to speak.  I checked the pilot status board, she was still in her quarters.

I won't say my pace was calm and unhurried, but I somehow managed to avoid looking like a fool at a dead run to the spot I had planned for my ambush. It was nearly unavoidable, between her quarters and her ships, hopefully the right spot.

My back pressed up against the cool steel of the hallways to the pilots quarters in TXW, I nodded to other passing pilots and crew as they headed to their hangars, readying for tonights fleet. I'm just waiting here, trying to look like part of the wall.  Waiting for her to walk by.

I had time to reflect on what exactly brought me here.

I'm tired of waiting to see if she just wants to flirt with me and tease me, or something, anything else. I sigh sadly, my stomach dropping a bit as I try not to think about that too much. The liquid courage running through my body will only work as long as I don't think about that.

Subtle movement out of the corner of my eye as she turns the corner and sees me, thankfully alone. I don't give anything, but recognition, time to pass through her features before one of my long arms slides around her waist, pulling her towards me as I twist my body around, pushing her gently, but firmly against the wall. I've made sure not to box her in but to escape my grasp she has to head back the way she came, or pass all the way around me.  Her eyes flashed hotly, I didn't stop.

I leaned down, kissing up her neck, towards her ear. My hand slid down her narrow waist and over the flair of her hip, moving around to cup and lift her ass towards me suggestively. Thus forcing her body to arch towards mine. I leaned towards, my lips just barely grazing her ear, my words so soft, they don't carry past her ear "I think you should be headed towards my quarters after this fleet, of sex."

I release her ass, lowering her off her toes. Disengaging myself from her and slide around the corner, heading the long route, back to my quarters. It takes all my willpower not to look back at that corner. I turn the first corner away and realize I hadn't been breathing, my mouth popping open, gulping down lungfuls of semi-stale station air.

-----

I kept the alliance kills list open on my terminal as I work, watching minutes roll by without any significant action, judging my chances tonight by the billboard.  It looks bleak for a long while, until reports of battle filter down into the kill table, she's killed 3 ships more or less on her own, the fleet is on it's way back to the station. I get a chill that runs down to my toes, half excitement, half pure dread. I shove it all back in my mind, headed for the shower.

Barely free from the shower, but dry at least, I slide on my pants, proxy alarms beeping somewhere deep in my eardrum, someone was approaching my door. I pull my shoes on, leaving them untied, hopeful I know. Just reaching for a shirt as the main "someone's at your door" buzz slides through my rooms. A single quick glance at the monitor confirmed it was her, alone.

Pulling my shirt over my head was never elegant, the three spikes planted there made sure of that. I managed with a minimum of hassle even while narrowly avoiding tripping, sliding the hallway door closed. The door opened to reveal Usagi, I could have stopped myself, but didn't want to, needing a quick mental picture of her standing there in my door.  It ended up not being a quick mental picture, my eyes moving down her body.  Regaining some sense took a few seconds, but I stood to the side, "glad you could make it gorgeous, please come in."

'Charming,' I said to myself, hiding my self grimace as she stepped in. She looked around before turning to face me, her back to the island in the middle of his kitchen.  The position made me think of how much easier it would be if he just forced her over that counter, it looked the right height. Her voice, slightly higher pitched met my ears. "Was glad you asked me to come." Probably choking back laughter. Most capsuleers would be laughing at the small space, but it was all he needed, here at least.

The door slid closed, unnoticed, behind them, the same metallic rumble whisking the door closed.  I smiled, feeling my cheeks heat up a bit, remembering. "I'm not sure 'asked' is the right word to use, but I needed to do something, short of stewing in here for another night."  Her eyes had caught mine and I found it suddenly difficult to talk.  I had learnt from last time this happened and just kept my mouth shut for a moment.

I broke the silence, "may I get you anything?" Me perhaps? My arm saved me indicating the stash of booze behind me.  Though I wasn't sure if it was indicating the booze or just re-emphasizing that I was included in the anything.

It seemed she had gotten her laughter under control now, mostly, her voice had returned to normal. "Whatever you're having is fine." Her eyes moved off mine to look at the stash behind me, I thought I caught a twinkle in them as she looked at all the booze. My free hand slid around hers, my body requiring that I touch her, make sure this is all real. How she wasn't slammed up against the island already was a mystery, I was barely holding that part of myself together.

I blurted out, "you look great." pulling her closer as I said that, my right fingertips tracing up her side, having to go some distance before finding a shirt under her jacket. My eyes held her gaze, the distraction of her skin carried the pause on uncomfortably.

Simply Casanova, I was, more like how was she still even here.  I realized I didn't have any glasses, umm, on-hand. "I uh, don't exactly have a" moron "glass right now…" A nervous laugh spilled out of my lips. "I hope something out of the bottle is okay?"  M-O-R-O-N. I forced myself to shut up internally.

She blushed, likely from embarrassment, of me, but her smile still made my knee's a little shaky. "Bottle is fine, thank you.  I…"

You are still an idiot… SHUT UP! Ahem.

"I probably have some extra glasses I could give you…." she trailed off looking up at me and then down to my hand around hers. "…assuming you need them…" I stepped closer to her, her soft, clean scent hitting my nostrils memorably, "No, I'm sure I'll eventually get around to buying more, they much such a satisfying crash when thrown properly too."

It hit me just then, I was a complete ass, and rambling, I apologized, and offered her a seat.  Graciously she replied "It's okay, I enjoy listening." I knew that meant she didn't need for me to continue.

"I have the couch there, and the table if you prefer?" I smiled, "I'll sit on the table." Where was that bravado I had just a few hours ago? Damn tequila. I grabbed two bottles from behind me, watching her move away, her body moving with the soft grace that belies speed. I stripped my eyes from her swaying ass, and looked at the two bottles that had won by default.

"It would be rude of me to take your seat." I looked up and she stood next to the couch, a private smile on her face. I reply with "Umm, Tequila and Vodka." I slide into my couch, towards the middle, reaching up to grab the front of her pants, twisting her into my lap, for the most part, her ass on one of my thighs, her face just inches from mine.

Her being that close, that sweet smell, the warmth of her body, my hands went white around the bottles, my other arm providing a sort-of back rest for her. I resisted tearing at her like a animal, turning all that desire into a grin, looking up into her beautiful blue eyes. Mumbling something about her choice of seating, I just stared into her eyes. She took the Vodka bottle, placing it on the table next to us before sliding herself out of her jacket. Leaning down to show off her lower back tattoo, bluish-black it resembled the Gurista's design, with a Usagi touch to it. That detail added to the mental images didn't help, one bit.

I looked down, stuck with the Tequila bottle… shit. "You would leave me with the tequila bottle, stuff gets me in trouble." So far, this time it had been good trouble, I popped open the top with one hand. "Enjoy the trouble you bring upon yourself!" A little toast to lighten the mood, right?  I meant to take a quick gulp, but found my mouth inundated with tequila, forced now, I was swallowing quickly, the tequila fire spread down my back, a hot shiver following the liquid.

Usagi took a large pull off the Vodka bottle, grinning as she took it easily. "Terrible." Looking back down her body I notice her short tank top, showing off her stomach, my free hand, curing around her back to run fingertips over her stomach. I looked back over to her, lust rising, quipping back, "yes it looks terrible," I acted as if I was going to stand, not that I could, for more than one reason. "Should I get you something else?..."

Usagi leveraged her hips and arms, pushing me back against the couch, her voice all at once an authoritative, undeniably seductive and emphatic no. I couldn't have stood after that, and didn't want to. My fingers, on the damned soft, smooth skin of her back, tracing small patterns.  Fingers spanning and contracting on her low back. Just touching her made me shiver, "I think that's the first smart thing either of us has said all night." I joked, before taking another long pull from the tequila to hide my self-satisfied grin.

She took another drink, as if winding up for something big, tossing the vodka bottle back on the table, sliding around me quickly, hotly, her legs to either side of mine now, hand wrapping around… the tequila bottle, taking a swig from it as well, before placing it behind her on the table as well. Her hips groung into into mine, biting my lower lip was the only prevention from groaning out loud.

I released my lip just as she leaned down and kissed me, her body pressing into mine in JUST the right way, her lips parting a bit, teasingly letting me taste the vodka and tequila on her lips. It was the first time she'd kissed my lips, the electricity was definitely there. My mind moved towards the off position, my hands sliding down her legs, I could feel the blood thumping past my ears, barely picking up her words. "What do you want?" It was said in the same tone as her no, shaking me and my mind back to 'on.'

I fumbled around a bit, trying to come up with something other than the mono-syllabic, though true, response of 'you.'  I went with "I think I've made that pretty clear? I want to see if you and I are…" compatible, no, umm, right? No. Meant for each other, how melodramatic can I be? NO. "More." I hope if someone was writing a story about this they would put a period after that word, and not the question mark it felt like.

Her hands guided mine higher on her body, up her firm thighs, hips and flat, taunt stomach, sliding my large hands over her chest, strands of her red hair falling out of her pony tail, and over her face. "Are we?" She asked, while working me like a master.  My vision had just clouded over, lust bubbling up and over, I tried to say something, anything, my mouth worked, then, later actual words came out.

"If this is come kind of new torture technique please only ever use it on me." I panted those words out like a first timer. At this time I would tell this woman the truth of anything she asked. "I mean, if we weren't, would we be here?" I threw out the words, desperate.

My hands spanned her chest, teasing her back, trying to force her mind down to his primal level.  It failed, she sighed softly, talking as she turned away, her hips still firmly on mine, warm body pressed up against me. "This means nothing. Sex is just sex. I want to do that with you, but also…" her voice broke a bit, moisture forming in her lidded eyes.

"Once we start down one path, we can't ever go to the other." Slid my hand around the back of her head, turning her back to face me, the back of her head was still slightly wet, red hair tangling in my fingers.  I told the truth, "I think we both know, and want, this to be more than sex, or we would have had at it days ago and not looked back. Instead I find myself brooding in here, breaking my only glass because I just assumed you'd show up." For me, I left out. "Tripping over myself like a moron I may add."

She turned like a cat in my lap, looking down at me, directly into me. "Can you love me?" There it was, I had left off the jealous part of me stalking back into The Last Gate trying to find out if she had left with Morgane that night and not me. I wasn't sure. When ever are you? Shut up, I dove in.

"Only if you'll let me." I stopped looking at her eyes, expecting the worst.  By the time I looked back up her eyes were closed.  She mouthed something, maybe 'thank you.'  She leaned back down to me, her lips finding mine, this kiss slamming my brain fully into the 'off' position, and everything else to on. I hardly let her pull back enough to tug her shirt off. Mine didn't last much longer. nor in one piece.

Let me say; the counter, it was the right height.

=================

Usagi's Blog

A Bittersweet Date

The door slid closed behind me, rustling slightly against the metal around it, otherwise, quiet. Sadly so. I took a few steps into the room before grabbing the nearest thing that could break. The blossom of glass against the steel wall made me smile until I realized I had just destroyed the only glass in the room. Not sure if I was mad because there was nothing else to break, or because I had nothing else to pour my whiskey into.

Ah well, the whiskey bottle fit in my hand well enough, the cap didn't explode nearly as nicely as the glass had. I contemplated shooting it as the liquid slid over my tongue, taking some of the sting off the day, but not all. I sunk into a chair, glumly staring out at my hangar bay.

The past few weeks I had been spending more and then more time around Usagi. At first, admittedly, it had just been nice to have someone to talk to. Though usually our conversations started and ended in abrupt, strange ways. I didn't mind, after all, while the company was nice, the scenery was better.

We had made plans to celebrate VETO arriving in TXW, well once alliance command allowed us to. One of their few restrictions had been to gag us on their arrival until they had all made it. I had cornered Usagi into coming down to The Last Gate with me, but we had both missed out on Saturday night.

By the time Tuesday rolled around I had recouped enough courage to ask again. I met her, walking up to her quarters as she was leaving. My eyes move over her body as she walked towards me, a purposeful gleam in her eyes, alongside a small lack of focus.

We walked in silence until we arrived at TLG, I was just trying to stay confident and not stumble in front of her, or worse, into her, at this point.

I headed to the bar for some more liquid courage, with Usagi just behind me. I took a whiskey, but Usagi, already several ahead of me, it seemed, took something stronger. I turned to see Raxip approaching from further down the bar, his usual pint in hand. I felt, more than saw, Usagi slide into a seat next to me, downing yet another shot. Raxip and I made some small talk that I honestly can't remember clearly, I was busy trying to watch Usagi as she bent over the bar for each of her shots. Something about fleeting with me more often, it had been a while since we last flew together.

Raxip took the initiative to introduce himself to Usagi, while she took the chance to take a verbal jab at me, in reference to fleeting with me. "I dunno. He hides a lot. I've been looking for him for weeks."

I stopped a bit short of choking on my whiskey, throwing out the first thing that came to mind as she shook Raxip's hand. "Only been hiding from you, perhaps you've been spending too much time in your quarters again." I threw back at her, only semi-defensively.

I couldn't tell if her flirtatious grin was aimed at me or Raxip, my eyes narrowing as pessimism took hold. Chuckling in spite of myself with her reply; "That is where all the fun is, you know."

I took the chance to trace her body slowly with my eyes, drawing out my reply. "Then why haven't you granted me access yet?" A strange look passed over her face at that second, one I wish I could have examined in closer detail, in private. Raxip took this chance to throw in some question about Rote that drug my eyes off Usagi, though not for long.

I took Usagi's own advice and went back to work on her, tugging her to my side, so I could lean over and smell one of the shots she was taking, not to mention tonguing. The smell from the empty shot was enough to clear my sinuses, and my head for a few seconds.

"So, you two…? Or still trying Logan?" Raxip queried, 'innocently.' I glanced over at him, trying to determine the path of his question, finding it harmless, I quipped back, "she acts all flirty here, but I'm still trying, sadly." The sadly part came out a bit louder than I had meant it to, as I thought it was more a note to myself then for public consumption. Her glass, semi full again passed under my nose, again, clearing it. "Good lord…"

Raxip waved over at a newcomer, someone I could not quite see, but made Usagi give a rather loud, to my ears at least, near drooling. "Oh wow." I thought if it caught her attention it would be worth a look and glanced over catching a quick glance that was worth an unspoken wow.

Usagi turned towards me then, chiding that she came here with me for a reason. I was starting to not be so sure, but the soft touch of her lips on my forehead, somehow deftly avoiding the implanted spikes placed there sent a lascivious shiver down my spine, and tightened my hand on her side briefly.

I tried to recover quickly, "my lips are a little lower hun." My hand releasing her side and reaching down to smack her ass playfully, and I admit, possessively. My hand stayed there for the rest of the night, mostly motionless, mostly. I was overtly pleased with my 'tactful' introduction of my hand on her ass.

Usagi was clearly taken by the newcomer, who introduced herself as Morgane Lysander. Usagi was barely holding back her drool, I had to admit that Morgane was quite attractive. I pulled Usagi into my lap, reminding her that I was here with her. She seemed more than willing, sliding down into his lap. It felt… comfortable, and I left my hand on her rear.

I spent the next few minutes trading verbal barbs with Usagi, attempting to keep her interested in me, and not wholly focused on Morgane, while talking to Raxip as well as Morgane. I couldn't tell if Raxip was trying to divert my attention or gain Usagi's, but Usagi was of no help. One second readjusting herself provocatively on my lap, making the hair on the back of my neck stand straight, then seconds later, going so far as to flash Raxip a few seductive smiles. Smiles that should have been meant for me.

Raxip decided to turn his attention towards trying to distract me from Usagi, amidst a conversation about Raxip's dancing prowess he sprung the invitation to dance before their next joint fleet we both made it to. It would have to be a date! Besides, that fleet would have to be lucky with that kind of ceremony before hand.

An annoying beep sounded deep inside my ear, requiring my attention, I could stay no longer. While the beeping grew slowly in intensity, and irritation. Still I waited, taking the time to enjoy the feel of Usagi placed in my lap. When I could wait no longer, I carefully lifted her from my lap, standing behind her for a moment. Holding in the conversation for just a moment longer, hinting to Usagi she would be welcome to intrude into my quarters, trying to make it as obvious as I could.

I leaned down, kissing her on the neck, my mouth open a little bit, tongue flicking out to take a small taste of her skin before giving her a playful bite on the side of her neck. Her hand slid down my arm as I stepped away, giving the brief impression that she wished I wasn't leaving. It was little more than brief as she gave a curt, polite wave goodbye, refocusing on Morgane.

I stepped between the two, shaking Morgane's hand before moving towards Raxip, scooping him up in my arms for a tight hug, getting him back for a similar act weeks ago, pulling back with a grin, just in time for him to plant one on me, clearly winning the exchange.

I could do nothing but laugh, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, taking one last look back at Usagi, then over to Morgane, then back to Usagi, wondering if by leaving I had just lost a chance, to be dropped off at the hands of Morgane. As I walked out, I hoped not.

Several hours had passed since then, my matters resolved, door closed, alone. I twisted in my seat, the whiskey bottle mostly gone now, drank in silence, I headed for my computer, quickly pulling up the allowed access list, removing the second ID, character by character. I turned for the bedroom, but didn't make it, tripping over my own, uncooperative feet, landing squarely on my face. I snorted once, maybe I am a lightweight, then closed my eyes.

---------((OOC bar is OOC))--------

The Last Gate - Usagi's take.

It's interesting how two people can do the same thing, see the same thing but still see it completely differently.

The Art of the Defeating the Slingshot (The Art of Part 4)

Your target, hapless at 21 KM's from you as your DPS of choice pounds him down.  There seems to be no escape for this poor, fat, slow ship.  It turns away, burning to escape, MWD active, pulling range quickly as his speed shoots up to MWD levels, passing 23KM you act quickly, turning towards your running target, thinking there's no way you'll let this kill get away!

5 minutes and a loss later you realize you have just been the victim of the slingshot, pulled into range and killed by your "easy" kill.  Shame burns your ears as your pod warps away.

How could this have been avoided?

Avoiding the Slingshot, while maintaining tackle and getting that kill, is more difficult than it sounds. For those who have read my previous post about the Slingshot, you might have already come up with a few good idea's.

Basically the idea is to stay outside of overheated web/Scram range, even at the cost of losing your point and the target getting away.  Of course that is less than ideal, so we'll try to avoid that.

The first of course is knowledge of what your opponents ship is capable of.  Know, roughly, what it's top speed should be, and plan accordingly.  For instance when he starts burning away, know how much speed you need to catch up to him and don't fly after him at full speed, instead match his speed to maintain your range, so when he tries to turn back into your path you can easily avoid it and just use that chance to pump more rounds into their ship as they pass 0 transversal.

One automated tactic is to use the "keep at range" button. When he starts burning fast away from you, use your MWD and keep at 18-26km.  This should automate keeping you at range outside his scram and web range.

Knowing overheated ranges of various scrams and webs is also a good idea.  Rapiers/Huginn and Arazu/Lach non-withstanding, here are some of those ranges broken down.

Type                              Range                  Overheated               With gang boost Loki(and overheated)
Warp Scrambler I          7.5km                   9km                          10.7km               (12.5km)
Faint Epsilon                 9km                      10.8km                     12.8km               (15km)
Warp Scrambler II         9km                      10.8km                     12.8km               (15km)
TS/Domination scram    11.5km                 13.5km                     16km                  (18.8km)
Stasis Web I-II               10km                    13km                         14.2km              (17.9km)
TS/Domination web      15km                    19.5km                      21.3km              (26.9km)

If you really want to be depressed, look at similar numbers for ships like the Bhaalgorn, with a Loki.  How about you just avoid those, without backup, okay?

Usually under a web, you can still get away or at least try to get into warp before the scramble lands, but to be safe, 18-26km distance is usually good, or close to your max point range while he tries to snag you with this move.  Though this is inside of heavy neut range, to be safe from neuts you should fit a faction point and stay outside of 28/29km of every battleship we suspect have faction neuts, or 24km for best named heavy neuts.  Anyways, fat chance of staying clear of those every time.

Always have range and speed on your overview, but keep your eye especially on range, both to stay inside point range, and outside their scram/web range.

Manual piloting really helps here, instead of using "keep at", instead point your ship at a point that will only pass at the nearest 18km from the ship you are closing on, and update your heading as they spin towards you, manually keeping your distance from them. Of course this takes just a little practice to be able to eyeball or use the tactical overlay a good approach angle, but it is much more reliable in keeping you out of trouble than any other method.

Previous Art of's

Art of the Slingshot

Art of the Vagabond

Art of the Rifter

EBB #26 : Beauty is destruction.

Welcome to the twenty-sixth installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter involves an enthusiastic group of gaming bloggers, a common topic within the realm of EVE Online, and a week or so to post articles pertaining to the said topic. The resulting articles can either be short or quite extensive, either funny or dead serious, but are always a great fun to read! Any questions about the EVE Blog Banter should be directed to crazykinux@gmail.com. Check for other EVE Blog Banter articles at the bottom of this post!

This month's topic was proposed by @KatiaSae of the much praised "To Boldly Go" blog. Katia asks: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. As an astrophotographer, I've found it in the stars and planets of New Eden. Where have you found it? Perhaps you've found beauty in the ships we fly? Maybe it's the sight of profits being added to your bottom line? Or maybe it's the pilot portraits you see in the comm channels? Where ever you've found it, write about it and post an image." Don't be afraid go beyond the simple visual aspects of EVE as well. Is the EVE Community in itself a thing of beauty? What makes EVE the game, the world, the Community, so appealing to you?

As is usual for me, my enjoyment of Eve started as finding my way in the game, learning new things to do, skilling into new ships, learning and mastering new and innovative ways to kill, and fight my way through it. Soon enough I started to find just as much enjoyment out of the friendships and corp banter, at least in good corps.  Around that point I had already made it past the toughest parts of the learning curve, had two accounts, fought in both major 0.0 wars and minor ones.  Roamed with Pirates and anti-pirates, and everything between. PvE and PvP.

Somewhere along the line I found that combat in Eve is what drove me to play the game.  Not the massive fights, but the good, small ones, where individual pilot skill, ship fittings and guile played a larger part in the fights. Perfect comms during a fight became beautiful, looking back at battles and trying hard to find fault with how I or my gangmates flew.  Frapsing the battle and enjoying the replay, watching the beauty of the battle, ships dancing around one another, explosions, the quiet intensity in every command.  Expectations of each fight, individually being better each time, and every fight it's own flower.

It was along this road that I found groups of like-minded people, and that had it's own beauty.  It's not that Eve is, in it setting, beautiful, it IS the dark place its supposed to be.  What everyone does with that back-drop that makes the explosions on screen all that much more pretty.  Everyone is actively trying to think out of the box.  One of my favorite quotes from eve is, "This is Eve, if you aren't actively trying to inconvenience someone, in some way, You've got a lot of catching up to do."

Even when I'm taking a small break or without enough time to play as much as I want to, I can still look back and watch some PvP video's to get my fix of explosions and re-kindle the beauty I find in each.

Other banter's :

1. CrazyKinux's Musing: Beyond nebulas and shiny ships
2. Freedom: the beauty in EvE » A Mule In EvE
3. Achernar: The bike and the barbecue
4. where the frack is my ship?: Blog Banter 26: Love at first sight
5. BlogBanter 26: EVE … beautiful … « One capsuleer against all
6. Blog Banter 26 « Mad Haberdashers
7. » Blog Banter 26: Beauty of EVE – To Boldly Go To Boldly Go
8. Down By Law: Blog Banter #26: "The Beauty of EVE" (OOC)
9. Blog Banter #26 – Beauty « Roc's Ramblings
10. Banter #26: Beauty is in the eye of the markets | Diary of a Garbageman
11. Progression's Horizon: Blog Banter 26- Carry It With Us, Or We Find It Not
12. Blog Banter 26: The Beauty of Eve « A Scientist's Life in Eve
13. Freebooted: BB26: The Beauty Between the Lines
14. Eve Opportunist: EBB #26 : Beauty is destruction.
15. Blog banter #26: EVE shines, and not just visually « Diary of a Pod Pilot
16. Learning to Fly - Spinning ships since 2003
17. BB26: Beauty, in certain conditions | A Missioneer in Eve
18. Dying in Lowsec (One Hauler at a time)
19. EVE Blog Banter #26 – Beauty « Evehermit's Blog
20. Anymore...?

The Art of the Slingshot (The Art of part 3)

One of the most useful tools when solo or in a small group and engaging one or a few nano-type ships, like the Vagabond/Cynabal or even some battle cruisers, is the Slingshot.

NO! Not this kind of slingshot!

The situation is this, you in your slower, heavier, scram/web fitted ship is being effectively kited by a faster kiting opponent.  You can't catch them, and can't bring them into a fight at your range.  If you are caught off a gate, or in a belt, your chance at catching them is nil, and all that is left is a long, slow death, begging for help.  Help yourself by learning and effectively using the slingshot.  Bring them into engagement range and allow your heavier weapons to tell, heavier tank to shrug off their damage while you crush them.

Once engaged by your unsuspecting target (he's busy thinking you're his kill) the first thing he will do if he's a good pilot is try to pull parallel with you, to match heading and staying at your side, working to prevent this exact maneuver, usually somewhere between 16-24 KM from your ship.  First thing is first, get him in the right position for the slingshot.  Turn directly away from him, and as your stern(ass) spins around to face him(mooning him), you activate your MWD, as if you are attempting to escape.  Pull range like mad, as if trying to escaping, heading for 26+ km, or 30+ if he has a faction point. It may be a good idea to try to align towards something you can warp out to just in case you do get out of point range and want to bail quickly before he recovers point.

Now with him "behind" and your MWD helping you extend the range from him, he will turn as well, trying to bring you back to his kiting range of 18-24 km.  To close the distance faster he'll light off his MWD, this is where having velocity on your overview pays off.  Wait for him to build some speed/inertia with the MWD or AB.  Usually this is somewhere between 900-1200+m/s, or enough speed to start closing the distance between you and him, the deeper he "bites" the better luck you will have catching him at the end of this maneuver.  Use a little judgement and at the right time, when he's committed to closing range, that is when you control-space to kill your forward boost, but leave your MWD active, waiting for your speed bar to drop just below the 3/4 tick mark on your HUD, giving your ship the best chance at a fast rate of turn.  Repeatedly click approach target towards him, leaving your MWD active.

Now you are turning towards him and he is still burning towards you, the range between you should be dropping quickly, faster as you gain speed towards him.  The easy way is to continue to mash the approach button, but this is not the best way, there is a chance he will correct and the wasted time you try to go directly at him let's him escape.  The harder way it's going to take some practice.  Try to eyeball where his path is going to take him in space and where you can be to bring him to a Closest point of Advance, then aiming for where he is now. You just need that CPA to be inside of your scram/web range so 11-14km.... Now don't forget to overheat your MWD/Scram/Web for extra speed and extra range on your tackle.  Once he slings himself inside of your scram web range, apply DPS and tackle, don't let him out... Alive.

If you miss the first time, try try again, until either you die or he does, or you escape.  

Another pro-tip is that most people don't think very well in 3-d space, but it's difficult to describe what I am talking about so I will do my best.  Generally if you are on the same "plane" as the nano pilot, he has a better chance of avoiding your slingshot because distance is easier marked that way.  Try the same maneuver with a slight angle added.  Force him to be behind you but above the plane you are currently taking away from him, or even below you as most pilots always like to be above their targets in the game, force them to feel more agressive.  If they are thinking, "oh no, you aren't getting away from me." You are already close to success.  To put it simply humans, in general, are more likely to mis-judge the distance when operating with angles to the target as well as range.

Executing this tactic successfully can net you some nice kills in ships that should never be able to land tackle on, or up-engage faster, light, nano-ships.  I won't even try to count how many times I have seen his in PvP video's where the Ferox catches the Vagabond.  Or the Abaddon catches the BC.  When I re-find video's where you can clearly see this happening I will post them.

Example Video's for the slingshot

Endless Subversion's Mind Game  or Direct download

Prom's Friggank series, can be found in this handy FHC link