TXT MJK: 2_The Blur
Expenditures. Big ones. The kind that you regret the next morning- but the Sim paid big.
Ika’s off with her team, I’m treating mine to the depths of debauchery that only Homeworld can accommodate. They don’t get along so well together, but she and I connect solid for moonlighting.
By now, our freelance client is halfway to Station 3 with about a square mile of stolen cargo. In its place is an Ika-perfect representation of said cargo, down to the dusty details. She’s tops, for sure… no one I know can rival her degree of specic texture or light values. Unless someone pops over there early, they won’t know their goods are missing for at least a week. The Sim will last for twice that long, thanks to our solid workmanship.
Washout’s the place… where most bars are dim, this one’s the Sun. I’d heard it was modeled after a well known spacer favorite, or maybe it’s a Station chain that decided a Home base would be lucritive. Spacers spend twenty hours a day in the pitch, they like a little sunshine once in a while.
My crew likes the place because they don’t pack ‘em in, but the scenery tends to be top notch. It’s too hot in there to wear much clothing– some people decide not to wear any at all. Crew gets a kick.
Settled around a small round off in a bleached out corner, Glasses are raised and shades are tipped to my generosity.
“Nothing’s too good for us lot,” I tell them in earnest.
Omnio, Siever, Gil, Mu, and partner Maples. Best MJKers you’ll find.
There’s loud music, as always, and louder banter. Louder drinks… the blur sets in early tonight. Gil chases girls, Mu chases anyone, and the others plant their roots by the table and bow to oblivion. A part of me thinks “Don’t go overboard, Oaks.”, but the other part knows it’s four days til the next job… even bigger than the last. A whole crew affair, from the sound ofit.
Four days… that’s a good three days of recovery.
