Cayde was about three beers in and fairly disappointed when the pit crew arrived with his new equipment.
All the technology in the world and they choose to forgo flavor. Nonetheless, he wasn’t one to refuse free things and the less he needed to unmask himself the better. His face was a well kept secret on the ship, seen only by Halo, Renee, the pit crew, and the creator of the Game of Pursuit. At first he balked at the idea of showing his true identity; however, he was at the mercy of his manager and they were adamant that they could see him in his entirety. Plus, they needed to make sure he wouldn't tamper with anyone else's equipment.
”It’s not that nobody trusts you. We just need to ensure that the game stays fair for everyone involved.”
”So you don’t trust me to play fair.”
”It’s not about me.”
Quickshot sighed, crushing his empty can before inspecting his armor. After making sure all of the adjustments had taken hold, he donned his mask and left the dressing room. There were no more scratches, dents, or scuffs; they buffed away all of his experiences over the past year. It felt simultaneously freeing and melancholic. All of that time spent wandering in the Wastelands was gone, but so were the days leading up to his separation from his family. He supposed this would be an opportunity to create new experiences, one of which would lead to winning the Game of Pursuit.
With his cape over his shoulders and the pit crew sworn to silence, he departed for the lounge where a fair number of competitors had made themselves comfortable. He wasn't keen on mingling with others, primarily because they were mostly younglings, pretty much all of whom wouldn't be older than his daughter (who he was careful to keep an eye out for).
Each of them appeared to have taken a different approach, some mimicking Prime, some taking a ballroom approach. Some opted for simplicity. It seemed that regardless of aesthetic preferences, their managers had the final say. Everyone was just a tool for their amusement.
Before he could find a place to settle however, lights flashed, fog filled the room, and a pair of humans emerged from the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, mutants both big and small, please make your way to the foyer and put your hands together for this year's Overseers, Kore Mars and Yeqon Cryo!"
Quickshot didn't know much about either of them, but it seemed like Kore (the shorter and perkier of the two) was leading the show. All of the information she mentioned was common sense so he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as she continued speaking (not that anyone could tell).
Frowning at the gaudy display, he swatted away a stray balloon. So far, Halo proved to be the closest thing to an ally on the ship and he had no issue with that. He didn't expect anyone to sponsor him nor did he intend on courting anyone. The citizens of the capital must have watched countless interviews and trying too hard to stand out would be his undoing. If he had nothing to say, it would be easier to say nothing at all.
He turned to meet the gaze of a red haired man with tattoos covering his chest. The feral look in his eyes reeked of aggression, a blind demand for a fight that would never come. Each passerby was treated to the same provocative glare, but nobody seemed to take the bait.
It was honestly kind of pathetic.
The cybernetic mutant turned away from the other competitor, deciding that the better option would be finding a less crowded space so that if anybody did swing by, they would come one at a time.
Seeing a large, unoccupied tree near the balcony, he walked over and took a seat on the grass. The faint scent of lavender was comforting even if it was artificial and...seemingly from nowhere. He glanced behind him, pausing at the sight of a blue-haired girl. She couldn’t have been more than twelve years old and her outfit didn’t seem to do her any favors. There was no good reason for her to be in this competition and yet, there couldn’t be any other reason why a mutant would be on Father.
You’re here too huh, he thought to himself with a sigh.
"Good luck to you." Cayde whispered, more to himself than to her.
All the technology in the world and they choose to forgo flavor. Nonetheless, he wasn’t one to refuse free things and the less he needed to unmask himself the better. His face was a well kept secret on the ship, seen only by Halo, Renee, the pit crew, and the creator of the Game of Pursuit. At first he balked at the idea of showing his true identity; however, he was at the mercy of his manager and they were adamant that they could see him in his entirety. Plus, they needed to make sure he wouldn't tamper with anyone else's equipment.
”It’s not that nobody trusts you. We just need to ensure that the game stays fair for everyone involved.”
”So you don’t trust me to play fair.”
”It’s not about me.”
Quickshot sighed, crushing his empty can before inspecting his armor. After making sure all of the adjustments had taken hold, he donned his mask and left the dressing room. There were no more scratches, dents, or scuffs; they buffed away all of his experiences over the past year. It felt simultaneously freeing and melancholic. All of that time spent wandering in the Wastelands was gone, but so were the days leading up to his separation from his family. He supposed this would be an opportunity to create new experiences, one of which would lead to winning the Game of Pursuit.
With his cape over his shoulders and the pit crew sworn to silence, he departed for the lounge where a fair number of competitors had made themselves comfortable. He wasn't keen on mingling with others, primarily because they were mostly younglings, pretty much all of whom wouldn't be older than his daughter (who he was careful to keep an eye out for).
Each of them appeared to have taken a different approach, some mimicking Prime, some taking a ballroom approach. Some opted for simplicity. It seemed that regardless of aesthetic preferences, their managers had the final say. Everyone was just a tool for their amusement.
Before he could find a place to settle however, lights flashed, fog filled the room, and a pair of humans emerged from the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, mutants both big and small, please make your way to the foyer and put your hands together for this year's Overseers, Kore Mars and Yeqon Cryo!"
Quickshot didn't know much about either of them, but it seemed like Kore (the shorter and perkier of the two) was leading the show. All of the information she mentioned was common sense so he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as she continued speaking (not that anyone could tell).
Frowning at the gaudy display, he swatted away a stray balloon. So far, Halo proved to be the closest thing to an ally on the ship and he had no issue with that. He didn't expect anyone to sponsor him nor did he intend on courting anyone. The citizens of the capital must have watched countless interviews and trying too hard to stand out would be his undoing. If he had nothing to say, it would be easier to say nothing at all.
He turned to meet the gaze of a red haired man with tattoos covering his chest. The feral look in his eyes reeked of aggression, a blind demand for a fight that would never come. Each passerby was treated to the same provocative glare, but nobody seemed to take the bait.
It was honestly kind of pathetic.
The cybernetic mutant turned away from the other competitor, deciding that the better option would be finding a less crowded space so that if anybody did swing by, they would come one at a time.
Seeing a large, unoccupied tree near the balcony, he walked over and took a seat on the grass. The faint scent of lavender was comforting even if it was artificial and...seemingly from nowhere. He glanced behind him, pausing at the sight of a blue-haired girl. She couldn’t have been more than twelve years old and her outfit didn’t seem to do her any favors. There was no good reason for her to be in this competition and yet, there couldn’t be any other reason why a mutant would be on Father.
You’re here too huh, he thought to himself with a sigh.
"Good luck to you." Cayde whispered, more to himself than to her.