SCAR sissy boy? Sure thing, founding lieutenant.

OOC: Boose into a bonfire is more my style. But I don't think it'd be fitting A-Dawg'd live out in the woods. Besides, throwing vodka into a barbecue would just be ubsurd.

OOC: Shaddup the both o yas: Booze is MY style. Now let's keep this On topic before Smittens forgets where his RP was going...

The official dialed up Smittens yet again, and once again had no response. "He better return soon!"

Pirate_N00ber glanced over his new Custom Fitted EC-89...his hull registered at 55%. "Damn those stupid UIT Repair Bots," he muttered,"stupid ass bots cant even do a good job without getting their mechanical foot caught up their ass."

Pirate_N00ber was in Azek when Smittens was destroyed, he was ALMOST taken as one of their fellow wingmen.

But his quick transfer of 10k Creds shut up the Serco Pilot.

"Cant wait to get back to Itani space, atleast the damned bots there practicaly line up for you to kill em." Those were his last thought as he went through the wormhole to Itani Space.

OOC: This is my first time doing this, so accept the n00btastic RP'edness of it.

OOC: I'm glad you're contributing, but please make sure you carefully read the previous stuffs...I'm pretty sure Smittens was never blown up

OOC:Yes he was, remember your ship was blown up? But you Ejected...

Ah, right, sorry :)

A lone figure sat in a small room, one of two constructed on a remote asteroid in Artana Aquilus, I7. The man sat, at a slight angle, with his fingers interlaced, and his head resting on them. The walls were completely covered by monitors, computers, and a few keyboards. He had been like this for weeks, months, since being released from SKV for inactivity (his absense while building this...area was too much for the guild). Due to his low use of energy, as well as some Akanese training he had received during his time with them, the figure was able to use his energy focus to remain in perfect health without moving an inch.

He blinked, for the first time in a week, as the ring of an almost silent alarm met his ears. Lowering his arms slowly, he rotated the chair to view the screen where the alarm had originated. A quick scan of the monitor revealed that the alarm had been going off for days. In his meditative state, alarms such as that one were easily missed. No matter, the information had begun collecting ever since one of his self-designed spy programs picked up a mention of the "NTK-11." Interresting. Like many others, he had long considered the project failed.

But this would be something for the figure to get involved in. Not bothering to take the few minutes needed to read the hundred pages, the former Akanese, former SKV pilot grabbed a disc that would automatically record all data on the computer. Striding towards his black Vulture docked in the other room, the man placed the disc in a small slot in the back of his head, and blinked as the information downloaded into his brain.

LeberMac was about to leave for his little mission into Serco space (info here) and posted a note to that suit Borano on his office door, it read:

Borano:

Keep panties on. Be back soon. Took info with me. Smittens promises to review.

P.S. If DenebEx overnight shipping delivers a Joyce Sanders clone, be sure to let it out of its box before it goes bad. Set it to "Deep Clean" my office.

-- LeberMac

Excerpts from the log of VSIO Borano, found nineteen hours after his disapearance and the theft of the NTK-11, as released to the public by the Itani government

The NTK-11 Prototype, key piece to Operation Duck Face and the development of the Neutron 4, is almost ready to be used in mass manufacturing. Nine months after it was first brought to Itani space, we are nearing completion, and I am forced to consider if I can allow it to happen. I'm sure many people considered the project long failed, but that was not the case. As we discovered the true ability of the Neutron 4, far past its superb stats as a laser weapon, we attempted to contact Itan to figure out how to proceed. When a conclusion was never reached, we continued the project in secret, deciding to keep it silent a little longer. Five months ago, when we stopped the examinations of the weapon, and began testing its actual ability, the higher-ups decided that its power must remain completely secret, until we could unleash it upon the Serco. This added security has been one of the greatest factors in forcing my hand. I, nor any other scientist, has been allowed outside of the facility since that fateful day in May. I have not even seen my newborn daughter, and in fact, without any communications with my wife, have no assurance that either of them is still healthy. I wouldn't put it past this new government to keep news of their injury or death from me to keep up the quality of my work.

I have spent...months on this project. In many ways, it has become my life, or at least the defining aspect of it. Earlier estimates of the power of the Neutron 4 were innacurate. It will be much more powerful than we could ever have imagined. And now I must question the role I seem to have been born to play. I am close indeed to finally completing my work, and handing the first working N4 of the century to my superiors. Yet now knowing the power it possesses, how could I contemplate such a destructive action?

The nightmares it causes...endless screams of the dying Serco. Visions of the flesh and blood it will spawn. I will not let this be on my hands. Yesterday I sent an encoded message to my wife, or at least, to the house we used to own, by bribing a cook. With any luck, she will right now be setting up our new home, far away, with my sweet daughter who's name I do not even know. Tomorrow, the rest of my plan will begin. In order to stop the N4's development, to shift the blame off of myself, I need to get it out of the facility. However, in doing so, I will only bring the wrath of the government upon me. Thus, as I've come to sadly conclude, the only way to escape this life I have built for myself is by selling what will be the most powerful device ever created. Eo preserve me, I must do it for my own peace of mind. There is no glory in orchestrating the death of thousands. There is no victory when the cost is an entire nation, composed of the descendants of our past brethren, no matter how different we may be today.

I can hope that the eventual buyer understands views the universe in a similar manner to me, that they too will see the destructive power of the device and destroy it. However, my hopes are not high, yet I will still take the cowardly way out to avoid the blame. To my past Itani superiors, if you ever discover these remnants of my thoughts, please learn from them and please do not look for me. You asked me to do what no sane man would ever contemplate doing, and I must use the only escape route left to me.

My nation, I am truly sorry.

From the worn Itani-hide chair, he contemplated the gleaming prototype weapon resting on the polished wood of the table between him and the fireplace. The dancing red light played over the weapon's metallic casing, casting sparks deep into his pupils as he considered the sheer amount of death it would allow him to bring to others.

"Twenty million credits well spent," thought Dr. Lecter, as he idily finished the shipping manifest and dispatched the Joyce Clone to LeberMac, c/o the HVAC system.

Clone arrives here.