SinisterSimian

 "Satan may have granted you diabolical powers, but they are no match for the power of faith!" the preacher crowed. Zack didn't move or acknowledge the fanatic.  He was chained to the frighteningly well-equipped holding cell in the Atlantan passenger freighter Hair Shirt.  There was a belt wrapped around his neck that made breathing difficult and speech impossible, and a burlap sack tied over his head that reeked of rotten potatoes. The potato sack tightened and ground against his unshaven face as the preacher took hold of it and shoved Zack's head against the bulkhead wall.  "We are leaving now, Child of Evil."  Zack was beginning to hat

He frowned at her over his beer.  "Well I did promise not to walk away." She nodded.  "Good, good!  Now we'll need to outfit your ornithopter with conductive glass—I've enough for a standard Type Six chassis—and fly under the electromagnition factory.  It won't take longer than ten minutes!  It'll be the easiest four thousand you ever made!" Reece hadn't changed expression during the whole explanation.  He put his beer on the counter and swiveled to face her full-on.  "One," he began to hold up fingers.  "Flying under an electromag factory is suicide.  That's directly in the storm!" "Yes, but—" "Two," he shoved two fing

Reece spun his punchout in circles and surveyed the bar with some sense of nervousness.  He had his thopter and a nice pile of bonus dollars, but no idea what to do with either.  He had a vague notion of starting some kind of secure courier service but had no head for business.  He was taking his time with combing through his contacts in the Force, looking for someone that might have a job lead, but so far everything had come up empty. He happened to look up when the door opened, so he caught sight of the kid when he shouldered his way in.  He couldn't have been more than five feet tall and he was weighted down with enough junk to render hi

Sometime in the future… Emily finished the last connector on her Refractor Array and glanced at the ground far below.  "Done," she called. Reece pulled a lever in the cockpit of the Toreador, causing the Refractor to drift away.  She knew the Refractor was staying in place and it was their airship that was moving, but the illusion was quite convincing. Reece nudged the Toreador—a six-prop Screamer Class fighter—to a hover-stop five hundred feet away, allowing both of them to view their handiwork.  "The Eponymous Refractor Array," Emily whispered to herself, feeling a tingle of pride.