The ISK, the women, the fame and fortune. Everyone wants it, some get it. Most that do get it eventually realize what a drain it is, only far too late. For nearly two years I've been a poddy, running missions for the Federation Navy, flying the flag of a couple industry themed corporations. I made great friends, and enemies as well. But it had turned to madness...
The comm-link shook to life and made a horrible, screeching racket. I hadn't noticed before, but this sound... this particular frequency... the perfect fucking harmonic overtone to obliterate my fragile braincells, exploding them one by one. They tried to save me, the valiant braincells... "Caution: Aneurysm imminent! Smash the bleeding comm-link, smash it!" A familiar face snapped up onto the screen anyhow, before I could deliver the crippling blow.
My local agent in Aunia implored me, with much gusto and fervor, to run my 100th iteration of a certain level 4 mission. "Serpentis Extravaganza." God, I hate the Serpentis. Why don't they get the sodding hint that they just can't win? Why don't they all just self destruct, and save us all the trouble? Hell, I'd even give them a cut of the reward if they'd stage the rout. I could just sit here, comfy in the station's more than ample living quarters, sipping boat drinks. Ah, hell with it...
I delicately told my agent to shove it. I'm done. I've had enough of this bureaucratic crap.
"But we'll compensate you! Millions of ISK! Not to mention all the bounties and valuable loot you will get from the Serpentis scum! I will even, most graciously, raise your standings. Please?", she pleaded. I can't tell anymore if she's serious or not. It almost seems like she was programmed to spew the same crap, over and over again.
It was true. I had amassed quite a fortune over the years this way... billions in cash and assets. But what good is it all when you honestly want to send yourself to the biomass center, and the Pleasure Garden's friendly staff don't even do it for you anymore?
"Sorry, I'm out. Lower my standings if you like." I managed to choke out of my bone dry throat.
I blew her a raspberry, for some inexplicable reason. It sounded like a good idea at the time. But I digress...
She shot me a whimsical look, and with a "Hmpf!" the comm-link went dark. A few seconds later I noticed the standings hit pop up on my console. Whatever, screw her. In fact, the whole operation can sod off. I already have my jump clones, I don't need their precious standings anymore.
The idea had been running through my head for some time. I wanted to live on the other side of Concord. Those smug idiots in their shiny ships, always with their chests puffed out and their fists on their hips on the comm-link. That stereotypical hero voice proclaiming that they were, indeed, on their way to save the day. Only they never seem to make it on time, do they? I've seen countless innocent pilots obliterated well before Concord could wiggle their fat arses out of the Galactic Doughnut Emporium.
I am no stranger to pirates. Whilst living in low security space for some period of time, I had ample opportunity to interact with them. But this, friends, it a story for later... for now, I knew my destiny. I would don an impressive eye patch, I would befriend a chatty parrot, I would even lop off a lower extremity to install a rather menacing looking peg leg! Well, perhaps that last bit is the remnants of the get together in my stomach talking, but nonetheless, a new path shall be forged.
This, my confidant, is the day I embark on a journey. A journey of wildly epic proportions, to press down the path of lawlessness. To seek out infamy, fear, loathing, and an eye patch shop. To carve out my own niche in the dark, cold, rather cruel universe unto which we have all been strewn upon. I will fail at times, I will triumph at times, but I shan't look back. Today is the day I set out to become... (pause, drama) ..."BLAARRGH!!!"
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