Through the Eyes of a Low-life: Part 2

I wake up, slowly stirring in position. I still have this Emperor-damned headache and I feel pretty terrible. Was I drugged? Where am I? I open my eyes slowly. I’m in a darkened room, sitting in a chair, around a table with what I discern are other people. My vision is blurry and my own actions sluggish. Why am I here? Who are these others?

My sight begins to focus again. The first thing I notice is the person opposite, if you could even call it that. It had these strange, mechanical arms protruding from it’s back like some sort of monster and I immediately reach for my pistol subtlety under the table. There’s nothing there. I feel somewhat at a loss, sitting opposite something that looks like it could tear me into little pieces without much effort. I look around at the others, trying to get my mind off the mechanical monstrosity that sits opposite me. There’s a man sitting to the thing’s side, across the table from me, with all manner of weird marks and just oozing weird vibes. Not getting much better. At the end of the table is what I think is a guardsmen, though he looks pretty rough around the edges, as well as brutally strong. I’m really not liking my situation even more. Lastly, I look to the person to my immediate right. It’s some average looking woman with ridiculous hair, but seeing the rest of the group I’m assuming she’s equally as strange or dangerous.

I groan as one of them attempts to make conversation. I just do not care any more as I rest my head on the table. I feel terrible, I do not have a clue as to where I am and to top it off, I’m surrounded by the some kind of freak show. I try to remember how I got into this situation. I pause to think. Nothing. I don’t remember much past my name. I look up briefly as there’s a pause in conversation. Why are they all staring at me?

“Your name?” one of them asks, I’m not sure who.

“Oh, Red,” I reply. They do not seem hostile. In fact, they seem to be just as clueless as me, but I know better than to trust first impressions. I keep an eye on them as a screen to my left flickers into life. Nothing of note appears, other than a mechanical sounding voice. I rest my head on the table, tuning out slightly. I get what seems like the most important information, though I generally do not listen. I get the feeling that I can trust this mechanical mystery man, however strange that may sound, and it all feels strangely familiar. I still do not remember a thing, so I trust my gut and go along with it. A door at the far end of the room slides noisily open. Our instructions are to gear up in the next room, then smuggle some Imperial big shot off planet. At last some memories seem to pop back into place as I consider how to do this. I’ve smuggled, or been part of smuggling operations, before so at least this is familiar ground I’m walking on.

I follow the others into the room to find a container that apparently belongs to me. I open it with a click to find a mesh bodyglove, a pair of holsters and a sheath, a rather good looking knife as well as a pair of elaborate revolvers. I find a secluded place to change, away from Mr. Weird, Mr. Savage and Mr. Mechanical, slipping into my bodyglove and placing my clothes over the top. As I finish changing, I come out from my secluded corner to see that everyone else has already finished. I ready a snarky comment about taking care of physical beauty, though before I can say it, the floor just opens up below us. We all fall and land on a slippery, angled surface. We slide down a good distance before I see the end. Quickly, I ready myself and drop off the end feet first. It’s a short fall, though I manage to deftly land on my feet. Looking around, Miss. Extravagant and Mr. Savage managed to also make a somewhat safe landing on their feet, though Mr. Weird ends up with Mr. Mechanical right on top of him and it looks quite painful. I leave the others to whatever it is that they want to do as I survey our surroundings. More memories. I know where we are. We are in the Underhive.

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