Wednesday 29 September 2010

Fiction; Desmun's dead...


Flash didn’t have to announce his presence at the door, he had the means to unlock it, but out of politeness he rang the bell, several times and waited. After a minute, this was repeated. The small group of armed men clustered behind Flash all stood impassive and ready.

“Shall I blow it sir?” Asked one, Flash shook his head and reached into his jacket and swiped the door scanner with his access card; the apartment door slid open. Flash’s security detail slipped in – torches clipped to their weapons snapping on and stabbing into the gloom.

The apartment was dark; some dimmed lighting came from the living room area. No obvious sign of forced entry. As Flash moved in, broken glass crunched under his military boots, he paused as he unclipped the blaster pistol on his right hip and slowly un-holstered it. With half a dozen armed men, Flash need not have worried. Being a capsuleer meant he was even further away from physical harm but still, he didn’t reach his position by being sloppy.

Cautiously moving down the hallway, unsure of what to expect, Flash peered around the corner into the living room. The place was a mess: it had the distinct feel of a rough nightclub on a Sunday morning. Around him, small cones of light pierced the gloom.

The apartment had cost Nashh a small fortune; it was split over two floors, had several bedrooms and bathrooms and was only one of twenty in this part of the Kaalakiota station that had views on moon seven through glass panes stretching from floor to ceiling.

The second floor could only be reached through the living room. A wide, black metal staircase wound itself up to the next level. Flash had no need to venture up there however; one of his men had found what he came for and had motioned for his attention.

A distinct lack of furniture hadn’t seemed all that strange; it had not crossed his mind with all the debris lying around. The fact that there was a mattress, on the floor tucked away in the corner made him notice that indeed there was no furniture.

The mattress was occupied by Nashh: he was alone, face-down and very naked.

The Bastards’ CEO straightened himself, holstering his weapon. With a sharp gesture, Flash sent his men outside to maintain security as well as to offer up some privacy. Flash sighed as he looked down upon the wreck of a man he once held in high esteem.


Flash sat at the end of the makeshift sleeping arrangement. Having grown accustomed to low level lighting he removed his aviator style sunglasses from his breast pocket and put them on.

“Officer Kadavr you are a disgrace.” He started. “Do you always live like this? Where the hell is your furniture? What happened to your cleaner?

Nashh sipped the hot drink Flash had prepared him. He did not respond in words but his shifty look sideways told Flash enough.

“Okay, don’t even tell me, I do not want to know”. Shaking his head, Flash pulled out a neo-com from the recesses of his black overalls and started typing.

“I came here to check up on you, we haven’t heard from you for days.” Flash spoke, not looking up from his datapad. “Where is your side-kick Desmun by the way? I may have a need for him on our upcoming operation; he does still fly that bespoke Tengu, right?”

Nashh leapt up from the mattress and contemplated an elaborate story about Desmun’s disappearance. Pacing over the living room floor and scratching his head, Nashh, still naked paused and looked back at his Captain. Nashh grimaced as he felt a migraine start to set in; this was not helped by a severe drink induced hangover.

The Bastards’ CEO still had not looked up from his neo-com. He paused his typing and looked up briefly at Nashh, “How discreet does this cleaner I am ordering have to be Mr Nashh?”

'Very...' Nashh replied sheepishly.

“Uh-huh.” Grunted Flash, tapping on his data pad some more.

“He fucked up.” Nashh said simply and opened out his hands, pleading for understanding.

Flash stopped typing and put the neo com in his pocket.

“He fucking lost over a billion in assets!” Nashh continued, “A billion! He had to be taught a lesson!”

Flash looked around, shrugged and slowly started walking towards the door. “Where is he Nashh?”

A sigh escaped from Nashh.

“Bathtub... first bathroom on the left...” Nashh rested a hand on his forehead, letting it slip so the palm covered his face. He felt like his dad was telling him off, in the usual, not-angry-but-disappointed paternal style.

Flash ambled back.

“I think we need more than one cleaner.” Stated Flash as he threw Nashh a bathrobe, “I suggest you get out of this place for a few days, I'll ensure when you return the place is tidy and trouble free”. Flash turned to face the door and prepared to walk out. “Take a few days off Nashh, but when you return I want to see you in my office. Sober and clothed, you understand?”

“Yes sir...sir are you going to be firing me?'


The front door had already hissed shut behind Flash.


Several days had passed. Nashh had grown accustomed to his freshly cloned body. Podding oneself was an expensive way to get rid of a drug and drink induced hangover, but in this case it had been worth it.

Being asked to see Flash in his office only meant one of two things: either you had done very well and would come out smiling or you had done bad and may not come out at all, ever.

Nashh Kadavr had taken the time to shave, and had his hair trimmed short. He rarely wore the black overalls popular amongst The Bastards but today he wore a freshly pressed pair. A large image of a flaming skull set on a crossed pair of rapier swords and angelic wings printed in crisp white donned the back. His awarded ribbons had been carefully stitched on the left breast.

The short Achura girl behind the desk in the waiting room answered an internal phone call and passed on the message; ‘Mr Flashfresh will see you now’.

The palms of his hands sweated profusely and his heart skipped a beat. Nashh got off the leather sofa in the waiting area and made his way to the dreaded office. Coming the other way were two men: a short Caldari and a tall, thin Gallentean. Both shot a glance at Nashh as they passed by.

“Nashh. Excellent. Sit down” Flash stood behind his desk and pointed at the leather arm chair in front of him. He appeared to be in a relaxed mood, and offered Nashh a cigar from the box on the desk.

The smell was enticing and Nashh sure was tempted but managed;

“I… stopped smoking recently, sir.”

Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Flash closed the box of cigars and sat down. “Excellent stuff chap, a good choice. These things will be the death of you.”

Nashh forced a smile, slowly scanning the room surreptitiously. The dread of expecting to get hit in the back of the head at any time made Nashh rather paranoid, especially when your Captain mentioned death so casually.

“I, erm, I just wanted to say thank you for bailing me out the other day sir. I guess things got a bit heated and then got out of hand a little.”

“Out of hand is a little bit of an under-statement, Nashh. We still haven’t quite accounted for all his teeth.” Flash tapped on his screen. “Or two of his fingers and yes, his eyes Nashh. We can’t find his eyes.”

Nashh shifted a bit. He didn’t remember that bit.

“What you do in your own time is not my concern. As long as you do not bring the organisation into disrepute you can do as you please. That doesn’t mean I agree with, or condone what you do.” He paused for a moment, “Though losing 1.73 billion isk would make me lose my temper.”

Nashh smiled uncomfortably and nodded; ‘Yes sir.’

Flash shrugged and continued. “Anyway, c’est la vie – mess with someone’s pride and joy and you pay the price.” Flash leaned back on his leather chair and regarded Nashh with a penetrating look. I wanted to speak to you about a position as Fleet Commander. ”


“With several of our FC’s on leave I require someone to take control of the new recruits. Showing them the local area, going through the finer details of ransoming, you know… the basics...”

Nashh realised that he wasn’t going to be shot or clone-wiped or at the very least, tortured.

‘Hell yeah, you bet boss!” Nashh sprang up from his seat and extended his hand, eager to have it shaken, eager to have the offer confirmed. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“I know you won’t son, now move along I have business to attend to”. Flash smiled and nodded in the direction of the door.

“See Persephone, Vig or Silv if you have any immediate questions; alternatively feel free to contact me at anytime.’

”Yes sir!” Nashh saluted his CEO, turned and hastily made his way out.

Flash waited a moment then used the intercom to instruct his assistant; ‘send in Miss Hands’.

A young slender Achurian woman entered the office, ‘Mr Flashfresh?’.

Flash nodded and silently offered the chair in front of his desk.

‘Miss Hands, your instructions are clear; just keep an eye on him, assist him where he needs it, anything he needs… you understand?’ Flash ordered.

‘Yes’ Hands replied coldly, she didnt sit down, she rarely did.

‘I want a weekly report without fail; on his progress, mental state and general well being’.

‘Yes sir…’

‘And for Christ sake, keep him away from drink and drugs, you hear?...’


  1. LOL good story! You really captured Flash's personality so well. Nashh is such a bad boy.

  2. Hmmm fiction with yourself in it? I'm gonna have to try that at some point.

    Good stuff m8, I actually enjoyed reading it.

  3. enjoyable read ,hummm i may have to sotp reading your blogs its makeing me turn to the darkside :P

  4. lol thanks guys, Flash was well portrayed and the read was smoother than my usual babble as flash has had a read/ammend before i posted it.