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Forums > Sci-Fi Roleplay Forum > Spawn of Mars (Closed)

“Pardon the interruption Ms. Rose, but you have a meeting request.”

Spencer bit a chunk of imitation meat and licked the sauce from her fork, “Excuse me but, who are you…?” Her words were grumbled as she continued picking at her meal, not even giving a glance to the young man standing beside her table, who suddenly looked lost.

With a place as big and as busy as the Cafetorium, the woman could only wonder how a ‘random’ found her in the midst of lunchtime. There had to be more than a thousand people inside the common area right now, especially since the place was made for gatherings and mass meetings.

She turned herself, slipping her legs from under the bench so she could face him and finally get a proper look at him.

He was young -really young- and he wasn’t dressed in the grey industrial uniform like most workers of the Bastion-- the largest housing workplace for Technicians and Architects. No, rather, he wore a crisp and unmarked navy blue jumpsuit that screamed ‘I’m new here’. When he noticed the stern, unamused face she was putting on, the young man fidgeted.

“Ah. You are Ms. Rose, correct?” He glanced at his wrist, “Ah, Spencer Rose?"

Another piece of food went into her mouth, but it gave a hard crunch and she went to spit it out, “Yeah that’s me, what’s the issue kid?” She muttered through quick pauses of spittle, “I shouldn’t have any meetings-- it’s the middle of lunch.” She pointed at her unfinished protein logs for emphasis.

“Ah um, it’s a request from,” he looked at his wrist again, “ from Ms. Devlin.”

Devlin?

Spencer wiped her mouth with a napkin she snatched from the dispenser on the table, and stood up with the remainder of her food, tossing it into a garbage shoot with a flick of her hand.

She left the young man without saying another word to him, too busy trying not to curse herself or him as she marched off, out of the Cafetorium. Her work boots click-clacked through the metal hallways --which were relatively empty due to the time, and she made a sharp left the moment she hit the middle of the hall. “Identification,” an automated voice demanded. The woman didn’t hesitate to press her palm against the door scan, feeling a warmth spread through her hand as the system read her palm print. “Spencer Rose… Door opened.”

The sound of air releasing accompanied by the door sliding open made Spencer antsy, her hands fidgeted with her collar, fixed her cuffed sleeves, and in general, tried to neaten her appearance as she entered the room.

The supervisor had called her --actually, many supervisors had been calling her for the past month, all with the intentions of sending her out to the villages-- but now the top dog was calling her out, and she was hoping it wasn’t to chew her out for any slip-ups she might’ve made. For all Spencer knew, she could be getting a promotion...?

She frowned at the thought; it was doubtful that could be the reason, Devlin wasn’t known to be the type to do such a thing, and it didn’t help that the woman made her writhe like a worm in sunlight.

Spencer made sure to shake it off, replace her frown with a cool gaze as she walked in quietly, being sure to soften her steps as she tapped her knuckle against the top of a flathead computer.

The room -which was boastful compared to most others- was secure and snug, with all the tech anyone in the Bastion could want. Its superiority was only complimented by the fresh, untainted smell of lemon cleaning agents that wafted in the air. Spencer could just imagine herself sitting in that seat one day-- but definitely not now, as she stood at attention, waiting for the supervisor.

The woman standing inside, hefty and bullnecked, looked over to the door and made a face when she saw Spencer come inside. She had an interesting appearance to her, from the spotted dark-olive skin she bore, to the black bun that pulled the skin of her forehead back. She was truly...something else.

“Good afternoon supervisor..” Spencer greeted, taking a spot near the older woman’s desk and trying to maintain professional eye contact.

Devlin didn’t bother with any greetings, “I have a Technician who needs to be sent out, but they need an administrator to supervise.” Her voice was gravelly and deeply embedded into an odd accent that made her roll every ‘r’.

Spencer leaned against the desk, only to get a mean glare in response, “Where are they going... and why?” she asked, reluctantly stepping away from the table and standing in the middle of the room awkwardly.

Devlin rounded her desk, tapping a few buttons on a keyboard before a blue hologram appeared above the computer. It was a translucent 3D model of one of the villages; she turned it a few times before zooming in toward a particular spot.

“There’s a broken light fixture in Village A’s Greenery, the one in sector five. Not only that, but the entrance has been blocked for some reason, so the Greenmasters can’t get through and tend to the...vendure.” Devlin pointed and Spencer groaned, “Village A…They- they’ve been a huge problem this entire month, shouldn’t you report this?”

“I already have, but no one seems to find it as problematic.”

“The village should have their own technicians fix this,” Spencer muttered while she paced through the carpeted room, aware that the supervisor’s eyes were watching her.

“Yes, they should,” Devlin nodded her head, “but we’ve failed to gain contact with them, and seeing as how there have been no distress signals or messages, I must assume they just... refuse to do their jobs,” the older woman minimized the hologram and looked at Spencer with a wrinkling stern face, “And as supervisor and head technician of the Bastion, it is my duty to send out response teams-- so fix it.”

Spencer took in a long breath through her nose, just to smell the cleansers and piss Devlin off a little, before crossing her arms with a sigh.

“Where is this techy?”

“The station terminal, Kosh port. I’ve already informed them of your identification- they should have no trouble finding you.”

Kosh port? That place--” Spencer tried to say, but Devlin waved her out, clearly finished with her side of the meeting as she returned to her chair, missing the hateful glare Spencer was giving her as she grudgingly exited the room.

She stood in the cool hallway again, feeling gooseflesh rise over her arms. Her mouth was screwed into another frown, and her eyebrows were creating angry dips in her forehead before she set off for the terminal.

Kosh port wasn't the worst of places, but God, did it never fail to make Spencer uncomfortable. The place was dirty, almost like the slums the elders spoke of on Earth --though Spencer would never be able to truly compare. The Earth was nuked to hell fifty years ago-- no one knew what it was like down there, and no one wanted to.

She just wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible, and maybe have a talk with Village A's superintendent.

Angel pulled and tugged at the jumpsuit she'd had to strap herself up in...with the thing chaffing in so, so, so many wrong areas, she already wanted to torch this thing. She had a small box of tools another tech loaned her, as unfortunately she'd lost hers in an explosion that welded all the metal to the steel hull of a swimming pool just yesterday.
Please don't ask why, authorities are still investigating how she managed to cause such a dramatic reaction in a children's aerobics pool.

"Sangre, Rose, you on this channel?" She spoke into a small radio she held, and the recieving radio blared static from her other hand. They were old world tech, but her teacher/aunt/godmother/ freaking provider of a method to survive was struggiling to get Angel into basic tech.
The red haired girl was a clutz, not exactly clueless, but parts of her hair were mysteriously burned off into a frizzy warzone that somehow held together to her shoulders. Her amber eyes looked around for the supervisor she'd been assigned, and in private thought she found Rose to be a cute name. She was moderately excited to meet this person. She hoped for a new friend.

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Forums > Sci-Fi Roleplay Forum > Spawn of Mars (Closed)