The Edge of the Universe: Rebirth - Revision history

imported>Emphive at 00:26, 26 June 2020

2020-06-26T00:26:23Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:26, 26 June 2020
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	=== CHAPTER ONE- A Port of Questionable Motives ===		=== CHAPTER ONE- A Port of Questionable Motives ===

	Port Vinnea, Last stop before the Edge of the Universe! Or so the shambling monstrosity that owns the almost fantastic space station would say that it was. It is a haunt of the mega-wealthy, the one percent of the one percent. Admission to the port for a day cost more than many folks would make in a hundred lifetimes; and a pass for a year? My, you could buy a planet and build a country with that money. But the people that inhabit this station were powerful, poised, and unrelentingly egotistical. So how then; pray tell, did a down-on-his-luck reporter for a news station halfway across the galaxy end up in the playground for the ultra-wealthy and powerful? Well... It has to do with a girl. ~~(Doesn't it always?)~~		Port Vinnea, Last stop before the Edge of the Universe! Or so the shambling monstrosity that owns the almost fantastic space station would say that it was. It is a haunt of the mega-wealthy, the one percent of the one percent. Admission to the port for a day cost more than many folks would make in a hundred lifetimes; and a pass for a year? My, you could buy a planet and build a country with that money. But the people that inhabit this station were powerful, poised, and unrelentingly egotistical. So how then; pray tell, did a down-on-his-luck reporter for a news station halfway across the galaxy end up in the playground for the ultra-wealthy and powerful? Well... It has to do with a girl.

	I arrived at Port Vinnea in the late autumn of the nearest solar system's cycle. I received a true red carpet experience; That was until I was discovered to be as poor as I was. And that I was a '' journalist'' no less. So for many long days and nights, I sat there, alone, in my room, typing furiously and hoping for a story to hit me in the face. It sounds silly, I know, to simply ''hope'' that the story of the century would be overheard by a twenty-one-year-old man in over his head by a million miles. The fascinating part of it all was that it seemed to work.		I arrived at Port Vinnea in the late autumn of the nearest solar system's cycle. I received a true red carpet experience; That was until I was discovered to be as poor as I was. And that I was a '' journalist'' no less. So for many long days and nights, I sat there, alone, in my room, typing furiously and hoping for a story to hit me in the face. It sounds silly, I know, to simply ''hope'' that the story of the century would be overheard by a twenty-one-year-old man in over his head by a million miles. The fascinating part of it all was that it seemed to work.
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	"Not unless the dead can be raised to life..." He mutters as he holsters his gun, "So what then, What would I be here for?"		"Not unless the dead can be raised to life..." He mutters as he holsters his gun, "So what then, What would I be here for?"

	"You aren't here for the dead... You're here for the living. You're a talented warrior who has survived alone for a long... long time... ~~Let me Guess~~, you're a bounty hunter, and one of the players is your bounty."		"You aren't here for the dead... You're here for the living. You're a talented warrior who has survived alone for a long... long time..." I straightened up, regaining my confident posture, "you're a bounty hunter, and one of the players is your bounty."

	A smirk escaped his lips and he tilted his head up slightly, looking down on me. "Clever man...		A smirk escaped his lips and he tilted his head up slightly, looking down on me. "Clever man..." his smirk disappear, "Too clever for your own good."

			I could see the thought of my sudden n and unexpected end creeping to the forefront of his mind, and I knew I had little time. "Think of it this way, Peterson, our talents may be able to assist each other. You're looking for a person, and so am I."

			"And what of it?" He asked, "I've been able to track them here thus far."

			"And how far have you gotten with your search since?"

			He fell silent, "Not far."

			"I can help. Who are you looking for anyway?"

			"Elsa Kesselring."

			That stung. I knew inevitably that's who he was looking for, but I wasn't looking forward to finding out why.

	[[Category:Stories by m579]]		[[Category:Stories by m579]]
	[[Category:Stories]]		[[Category:Stories]]

imported>Emphive at 08:49, 15 February 2020

2020-02-15T08:49:01Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 08:49, 15 February 2020
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	The other huffed, and snarled at me, "He's '' allowed ''in, unlike people like you."		The other huffed, and snarled at me, "He's '' allowed ''in, unlike people like you."

	That settled it in my partially conscious mind. Michael certainly was a fish out of water, what with the difference in dress sense he had compared to everyone else, but this confirmed it all the more. He was a man looking to get rich by way of winning a game of cards. But who was the man? That bothered me endlessly as I stood up and dusted myself off. It was time to set my sights on a new piece of the Puzzle that is ~~port~~ Vinnea. Time to answer a question:		That settled it in my partially conscious mind. Michael certainly was a fish out of water, what with the difference in dress sense he had compared to everyone else, but this confirmed it all the more. He was a man looking to get rich by way of winning a game of cards. But who was the man? That bothered me endlessly as I stood up and dusted myself off. It was time to set my sights on a new piece of the Puzzle that is Port Vinnea. Time to answer a question:

	Who is Michael Peterson?		Who is [[Michael Peterson]]?

	<nowiki>~~~~~~~~ </nowiki>		<nowiki>~~~~~~~~ </nowiki>

imported>Emphive at 08:40, 15 February 2020

2020-02-15T08:40:12Z

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 "Hm. That's unfortunate for you."
-"Unfortunate for both of us. I know who you are,
+"Unfortunate for both of us. I know who you are, and you can't kill me, otherwise, questions will be asked..."
 [[Category:Stories by m579]]
 [[Category:Stories]]

imported>Emphive at 07:59, 15 February 2020

2020-02-15T07:59:59Z

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 "Well, it is my job, after all!"
-Without so much as a word, Michael turned on his heel and stepped through an open door that we passed. At my brisk pace, I wasn't able to stop and turn back towards him before I was stopped by two guards. They were tall and crimson-armored, their gear glistened and shone, but the gleam of their armor could not erase their nasty reputation. The Holden Marauders, I'd done my homework on them. They raided shipping lanes outside of the Holden system, a neighbor to my homeworld of Irrigo. They did horrible things to women and children and weren't kind to the men either. However, four years ago they had left their pirating ways and undergone... "Restructuring". They shot their old leader and pulled a new man, a strong, levelheaded one up to the rank of Commandant. Herod was his name, and he was known to show mercy if he thought it was necessary. Herod took the marauders and moved them to Port Vinnea, making them the security for the establishment. Unfortunately, he never quite bred out the brutality that his men had, for the both of these guards grabbed me by the shoulders and flung me thirty feet backward, sending me skidding into a bench.
+Without so much as a word, Michael turned on his heel and stepped through an open door that we passed. At my brisk pace, I wasn't able to stop and turn back towards him before I was stopped by two guards. They were tall and crimson-armored, their gear glistened and shone, but the gleam of their armor could not erase their nasty reputation. The Holden Marauders, I'd done my homework on them. They raided shipping lanes outside of the Holden system, a neighbor to my homeworld of Irrigo. They did horrible things to women and children and weren't kind to the men either. However, four years ago they had left their pirating ways and undergone... "Restructuring". They shot their old leader and pulled a new man, a strong, levelheaded one up to the rank of Commandant. Herod was his name, and he was known to show mercy if he thought it was necessary. Herod took the marauders and moved them to Port Vinnea, making them the security for the establishment. Unfortunately, he never quite bred out the brutality that his men had, for both of these guards grabbed me by the shoulders and flung me thirty feet backward, sending me skidding into a bench.
 "No one is allowed into the lounge! It is reserved for the players of the Desire only!" One of them bellowed, hand on his gun, "And if I ever see you here again, I'll make sure you have worse things to complain about than a sore head!"
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 I scrambled to my feet and tried the keys on the footlocker. The first key was far too small, the second was a skeleton key and altogether impossible to put into the lock. The third slid in with a satisfying "Click!" and I eagerly popped open the trunk. My face went from eager joy to horror and shock as I closed the trunk and scurried away from it, smacking into something hard. I groaned and hit the floor, looking up into a stone-faced Michael Peterson.
-"Oh dear..."
+"Oh, dear..."
-<nowiki>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   </nowiki>
+<nowiki>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</nowiki>
 [[Category:Stories by m579]]
 [[Category:Stories]]

imported>Emphive at 05:37, 13 February 2020

2020-02-13T05:37:40Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 05:37, 13 February 2020
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	Already I was questioning my commitment to this. I'm illegally searching a room; A room that belongs to a dangerous man. A man that has keepsakes. A sentimental killer? Odd, that. Back on topic! He has locks on everything he owns, he leaves only clothes with empty pockets hanging u- wait! I didn't check their pockets! Perhaps that was it! I raced back to the closet and began searching through the clothes. Shirt after pants after shirt after pants I checked and found nothing. Frustrated, I considered cutting my losses and running when something occurred to me. I grabbed the holster and flipped it over, dumping out... a pair of keys.		Already I was questioning my commitment to this. I'm illegally searching a room; A room that belongs to a dangerous man. A man that has keepsakes. A sentimental killer? Odd, that. Back on topic! He has locks on everything he owns, he leaves only clothes with empty pockets hanging u- wait! I didn't check their pockets! Perhaps that was it! I raced back to the closet and began searching through the clothes. Shirt after pants after shirt after pants I checked and found nothing. Frustrated, I considered cutting my losses and running when something occurred to me. I grabbed the holster and flipped it over, dumping out... a pair of keys.

	I scrambled to my feet and tried the keys on the footlocker. The first key was far too small, the second was a skeleton key and altogether impossible to put into the lock. The third		I scrambled to my feet and tried the keys on the footlocker. The first key was far too small, the second was a skeleton key and altogether impossible to put into the lock. The third slid in with a satisfying "Click!" and I eagerly popped open the trunk. My face went from eager joy to horror and shock as I closed the trunk and scurried away from it, smacking into something hard. I groaned and hit the floor, looking up into a stone-faced Michael Peterson.

			"Oh dear..."

			<nowiki>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ </nowiki>

	[[Category:Stories by m579]]		[[Category:Stories by m579]]
	[[Category:Stories]]		[[Category:Stories]]

imported>Emphive at 01:21, 5 February 2020

2020-02-05T01:21:56Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 01:21, 5 February 2020
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	"Michael, my love."		"Michael, my love."

	Already I was questioning my commitment to this. I'm illegally searching a room; A room that belongs to a dangerous man. A man that has keepsakes. A sentimental killer? Odd, that. Back on topic! He has locks on everything he owns, he leaves only clothes with empty pockets hanging u- wait! I didn't check their pockets! Perhaps that was it! I raced back to the closet and began searching the clothes. Shirt after pants after shirt after pants I checked and found nothing. Frustrated, I considered cutting my losses and running when something occurred to me. I grabbed the holster and flipped it over, dumping out... a pair of keys.		Already I was questioning my commitment to this. I'm illegally searching a room; A room that belongs to a dangerous man. A man that has keepsakes. A sentimental killer? Odd, that. Back on topic! He has locks on everything he owns, he leaves only clothes with empty pockets hanging u- wait! I didn't check their pockets! Perhaps that was it! I raced back to the closet and began searching through the clothes. Shirt after pants after shirt after pants I checked and found nothing. Frustrated, I considered cutting my losses and running when something occurred to me. I grabbed the holster and flipped it over, dumping out... a pair of keys.

			I scrambled to my feet and tried the keys on the footlocker. The first key was far too small, the second was a skeleton key and altogether impossible to put into the lock. The third

	[[Category:Stories by m579]]		[[Category:Stories by m579]]
	[[Category:Stories]]		[[Category:Stories]]

imported>Emphive at 03:07, 1 February 2020

2020-02-01T03:07:29Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 03:07, 1 February 2020
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	"Michael, my love."		"Michael, my love."

	Already I was questioning my commitment to this. I'm illegally searching a room; A room that belongs to a dangerous man. A man that has keepsakes. A sentimental killer? Odd, that. Back on topic! He has locks on everything he owns, he leaves only clothes with empty pockets hanging u- wait! I didn't check their pockets! Perhaps that was it! I raced back to the closet and began searching		Already I was questioning my commitment to this. I'm illegally searching a room; A room that belongs to a dangerous man. A man that has keepsakes. A sentimental killer? Odd, that. Back on topic! He has locks on everything he owns, he leaves only clothes with empty pockets hanging u- wait! I didn't check their pockets! Perhaps that was it! I raced back to the closet and began searching the clothes. Shirt after pants after shirt after pants I checked and found nothing. Frustrated, I considered cutting my losses and running when something occurred to me. I grabbed the holster and flipped it over, dumping out... a pair of keys.

	[[Category:Stories by m579]]		[[Category:Stories by m579]]
	[[Category:Stories]]		[[Category:Stories]]

imported>Emphive at 06:01, 29 January 2020

2020-01-29T06:01:37Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 06:01, 29 January 2020
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	<nowiki>~~~~~~~~ </nowiki>		<nowiki>~~~~~~~~ </nowiki>

	Twelve minutes and three lies later, I had procured myself a key to Mr. Peterson's room. It was easy to convince the desk lady that I was a security asset and that I had to get into Mr. Peterson's room posthaste. The difficult part was to get her to ''not'' call the guards and have me arrested. Fortunately, my years of investigation have made me a great liar and a great		Twelve minutes and three lies later, I had procured myself a key to Mr. Peterson's room. It was easy to convince the desk lady that I was a security asset and that I had to get into Mr. Peterson's room posthaste. The difficult part was to get her to ''not'' call the guards and have me arrested. Fortunately, my years of investigation have made me a great liar and a great actor all the same. I strode confidently into Michael's room and examined my surroundings. Although mostly identical to the room that I rent two floors below, It had some notable differences. For one, it was an external room, it had a large window, curtains were drawn across it, and a shade pulled down in front of that. Michael clearly preferred the dark. My eyes swept the room, picking up finer details: one bag -he was clearly staying alone- A coffee machine that had been regularly used, three journals on the desk, and a worn footlocker, scarred and stamped with some official lettering that has all but been sanded off by the harsh climate it must have come from. Looking inside the closet I found little that surprised me: Rugged tactical pants and t-shirts and a holster hanging from a rack. I noted that it was empty and moved on. The bag was locked shut, as was the footlocker (Michael clearly wasn't a trusting man) so naturally, I gravitated towards the journals. Until this moment, I had no earthly idea that you could lock a journal, but apparently, Michael was the man who decided that it needed to be done. They each had two leather straps that reached cover to cover and was locked by a small key. I turned towards the empty room and sighed.

			"Well, this was bloody useless!" I said to myself. I reached down towards the footlocker and jimmied with the lock, thinking of ways to force it open that I could repair so it wouldn't be as noticeable. Just then I thought of something.

			"Replacement keys!" He must have them somewhere about! Now... Where would a military man hide something like this.,. I began my search below the sink in the bathroom, then went to the desk. Failing there I began searching under the bed covers and pillows, with luck worsening I decided to look behind the painting on the wall, and I saw something... Not a key, but an envelope stained by a dark red liquid. I made my best guess as to what it was and looked at the address. It read simply:

			"Michael, my love."

			Already I was questioning my commitment to this. I'm illegally searching a room; A room that belongs to a dangerous man. A man that has keepsakes. A sentimental killer? Odd, that. Back on topic! He has locks on everything he owns, he leaves only clothes with empty pockets hanging u- wait! I didn't check their pockets! Perhaps that was it! I raced back to the closet and began searching

	[[Category:Stories by m579]]		[[Category:Stories by m579]]
	[[Category:Stories]]		[[Category:Stories]]

imported>Emphive at 05:25, 29 January 2020

2020-01-29T05:25:32Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 05:25, 29 January 2020
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	The other huffed, and snarled at me, "He's '' allowed ''in, unlike people like you."		The other huffed, and snarled at me, "He's '' allowed ''in, unlike people like you."

	That settled it in my partially conscious mind. Michael certainly was a fish out of water, what with the difference in dress he had compared to everyone else, but this confirmed it all the more. He was a man looking to get rich by way of winning a game of cards. But who was the man? That bothered me endlessly as I stood up and dusted myself off. It was time to set my sights on a new piece of the Puzzle that is port Vinnea. Time to answer a question:		That settled it in my partially conscious mind. Michael certainly was a fish out of water, what with the difference in dress sense he had compared to everyone else, but this confirmed it all the more. He was a man looking to get rich by way of winning a game of cards. But who was the man? That bothered me endlessly as I stood up and dusted myself off. It was time to set my sights on a new piece of the Puzzle that is port Vinnea. Time to answer a question:

	Who is Michael Peterson?		Who is Michael Peterson?

	<nowiki>~~~~~~~~ </nowiki>		<nowiki>~~~~~~~~ </nowiki>

			Twelve minutes and three lies later, I had procured myself a key to Mr. Peterson's room. It was easy to convince the desk lady that I was a security asset and that I had to get into Mr. Peterson's room posthaste. The difficult part was to get her to ''not'' call the guards and have me arrested. Fortunately, my years of investigation have made me a great liar and a great

	[[Category:Stories by m579]]		[[Category:Stories by m579]]
	[[Category:Stories]]		[[Category:Stories]]

imported>Emphive at 05:10, 29 January 2020

2020-01-29T05:10:46Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 05:10, 29 January 2020
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	That settled it in my partially conscious mind. Michael certainly was a fish out of water, what with the difference in dress he had compared to everyone else, but this confirmed it all the more. He was a man looking to get rich by way of winning a game of cards. But who was the man? That bothered me endlessly as I stood up and dusted myself off. It was time to set my sights on a new piece of the Puzzle that is port Vinnea. Time to answer a question:		That settled it in my partially conscious mind. Michael certainly was a fish out of water, what with the difference in dress he had compared to everyone else, but this confirmed it all the more. He was a man looking to get rich by way of winning a game of cards. But who was the man? That bothered me endlessly as I stood up and dusted myself off. It was time to set my sights on a new piece of the Puzzle that is port Vinnea. Time to answer a question:

	Who is Michael Peterson?		Who is Michael Peterson?

			<nowiki>~~~~~~~~ </nowiki>

	[[Category:Stories by m579]]		[[Category:Stories by m579]]
	[[Category:Stories]]		[[Category:Stories]]