Antique Rug Stories
09-20-2011 / By:
“Technically I’m with the ‘Men of Spirit’," Hoshi says, crossing the soft antique rug that dominates the center of the room. "They hired me for this crap job. Honestly, though, their cute little revolution is just too hopeful for my tastes. Claim they just want power to realize the dream of equality.” He laughs a bit as he finally gets the cloak folded neatly. “Power is not a means, it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship.”
“What’s that?” She scratches the back of her head with the gun, then points is lazily back at him. “Are you a rebel leader or aren’t you?”
He smiles. “Orwell. And no, not really. Joined with the Men of Spirit for the effing work, not for the ideas. Betrayed them to the Lord Commander for money as well. Double-betrayed just for the fun of it, really. Effie Sagara is an idiotic bint. She was at the center of this intricate assassination plot against the Lord Commander, which basically consisted of ‘just kill this dumbass somehow.’”
“Well I’m pleased to hear you’re not a revolutionary, but you sound a little insane. Wasn’t it all incredibly dangerous?” She’s genuinely interested, now.
“Yeah, it was quite cool. Very undercover agent. I don’t do this for a living anymore, you know. I’ve made ten livings already. I just get off on it. I get bored.” He’s outright grinning now, in his leggings and undershirt. “So I’m a spy-for-hire. The galaxy’s only consulting conman.”
“Well, you’ll be doing it for a living now,” she says. “Because I want you to work for me as an unofficial RUST undercover agent. Black ops, illegal intel, that kind of a thing. And if you don’t do it we’ll have you executed for theft and treason. They proscribe ritual suicide for those crimes on this planet, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Why yes they do. You have a point there. Madame, I’m starting to get the feeling you’re threatening me.”
“Yes I am. Your options are actual death, or a faked death so I can get you off this rock and put you to work. So either way you’re a dead man. What’s it going to be? Give me your arm, or take a slug bullet to the temple, dear.”
“What’s that?” She scratches the back of her head with the gun, then points is lazily back at him. “Are you a rebel leader or aren’t you?”
He smiles. “Orwell. And no, not really. Joined with the Men of Spirit for the effing work, not for the ideas. Betrayed them to the Lord Commander for money as well. Double-betrayed just for the fun of it, really. Effie Sagara is an idiotic bint. She was at the center of this intricate assassination plot against the Lord Commander, which basically consisted of ‘just kill this dumbass somehow.’”
“Well I’m pleased to hear you’re not a revolutionary, but you sound a little insane. Wasn’t it all incredibly dangerous?” She’s genuinely interested, now.
“Yeah, it was quite cool. Very undercover agent. I don’t do this for a living anymore, you know. I’ve made ten livings already. I just get off on it. I get bored.” He’s outright grinning now, in his leggings and undershirt. “So I’m a spy-for-hire. The galaxy’s only consulting conman.”
“Well, you’ll be doing it for a living now,” she says. “Because I want you to work for me as an unofficial RUST undercover agent. Black ops, illegal intel, that kind of a thing. And if you don’t do it we’ll have you executed for theft and treason. They proscribe ritual suicide for those crimes on this planet, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Why yes they do. You have a point there. Madame, I’m starting to get the feeling you’re threatening me.”
“Yes I am. Your options are actual death, or a faked death so I can get you off this rock and put you to work. So either way you’re a dead man. What’s it going to be? Give me your arm, or take a slug bullet to the temple, dear.”
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