From the Personal Journal of Vindex—-
I frakking hate the starport, always have. Every time I go I see pissant wanna be hard-asses eyeing my piece, brazen like. Frakkers look like they either want a duel or a date. I’ve seen gangers draw and quarter folks for less. And I’m in a building where half the security wants to fondle my beloved Widowmaker like they did their daddy every night. Ain’t going to happen. Without your gun, you’re nothing. That motto has been drilled into me ever since I can remember. Where I’m from your piece is your life in every way possible. Then again, these squint eye Administratum rent-a-cops wouldn’t last 10 minutes where I’m from. New day, new world I suppose. Seen a lot of those since I gave Alistair my contract. Still, damned if I was going to let these twist sucking pissants put their hands on Widowmaker. Better men than them have died for, by, and with that gun. Sebastian didn’t seem to be having much luck so I decided to take things into my own hands. Maybe I should’ve consulted with my team first. Their not bad folks really, bit odd some of ‘em, but I couldn’t expect them to understand. They’re not Metallican. Besides which, I’ve gotten in and out of a hell of a lot tougher places than this, how hard can catching a shuttle be? Emperor’s blood, Sharps always told me not to taunt the warp like that. Should’a listened. The first bit went well enough, till the dockers came through. I tried to get into the piping, but….well….it didn’t work out so well. Neither did my explanation for why I fell on their heads. Bloody embarrassing really. One runs off yelling like the wee girl that he is. It was time to make a quick exit but the simple truth is that if I get close enough to touch the target the OP’s half FUBAR already. I ended up drawing on the other poor piss-stained slob and forcing him to get me to the tar-mac. I thought to be slick and disguise myself with his digs, slip into the cargo bay and make my way to the cabin. Of course, the Emperor must be grinning cause as soon as I put on the piss stained jumper and turn around, the damned things taxing without me. A fun run and a fine leap took me onto the landing gear, which was infested with rats….fun fact, void rats don’t mind biting people who wander into their home. To make matters worse, I can’t find the frakking maintenance hatch and I coming uncomfortably close to being spaced. I suppose Siinter must have been was wondering if I was becoming intimate with a rent-a-cops shock-maul cause he comes on the comm. Like the voice of blessed Drusis himself, he managed to help me find a door. Thank the Throne, I hear spacings a bad way to go. After all this, the rest was mercifully uneventful. All that just to catch a flight. Maybe I should have stayed with my team. Still…without your gun, you’re nothing.
Valuable Lesson Learned: Morality debates are boring.