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Slim

"Violah! Get down on the ground, no moving!"

0 · 585 views · located in Wing City Police Department

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Gasmask

Groups

The Wing City Police Department, dedicated to protect and serve. One of the most formidable law enforcement agencies on the planet, considering the near limitless potential crime for a city on the crossroads of worlds.
A spacefaring race of troublemakers, criminals and vagrants.

Description

ImageName: -Encoding Error, Translation required-
Age: 52
Height: 8'3
Weight: 112lbs
Occupation(s): WCPD Officer

Slim was once a criminal stuck on an Aschen prison planet with a sentence of sixteen years to life. It was shortly after his sentencing that he developed a plan to escape back into the galaxy.

Thirteen years in prison, smuggling in different parts to build a spacecraft underneath the dunes and it was nearly completed when a prisoner came his way, exposing his life's work to his keepers.

That prisoner turned out to be a WCPD officer, a very important one who helped him escape and after a time they bonded.

Slim is now a WCPD officer himself, with a whole league of encounters under his belt.

Officer Slim carries...

  • Homemade Gauss Rifle: Slim's own design.
  • Taser: Up to 20AMPS, jailbroken to lethal doses.

  • C.A.D.M.U
  • Re-enforced Impervium Handcuffs

So begins...

Slim's Story

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#, as written by Gasmask
The alien entered the bar in a rather ordinary fashion for an strange looking person. If he was a person by anyone's standards was a mystery. Slim sat at the bar and started to help himself to the bar's collection of cups and alcohol.

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#, as written by Gasmask
The alien tilted it's head at Bex. "Tough girl with nothing better to do in her time, you look like you're gonna get drunk and start fights. I think littleun' has reason to be afraid."

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Space

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#, as written by Gasmask
A red optic flashed in the dingy and dark. The humans on Halla were the worst scum that could be produced; At least they could be trusted not to shank him in the mines, outside out of it though... Slim made a loud grunt. "Vior-hla." The alien shouted back in a savage sounding tone which when loosely translated meant 'I

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#, as written by Gasmask
A red optic flashed in the dingy and dark. The humans on Halla were the worst scum that could be produced; At least they could be trusted not to shank him in the mines, outside out of it though... Slim made a loud grunt. "Vior-hla." The alien shouted back in a savage sounding tone which when loosely translated meant 'I'm coming'. Not that they spoke his language anyway.

Slim stepped out into the light. "Going home already?"

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#, as written by Gasmask
The single eye formed a slit at Amril, two of the four limbs giving him a single finger salute. "Thanks, I guess, Foreman. I'd just get me thrown out, for a bunch of degenerate leather rebels, you're pretty judgmental, you're the only one who'd survive on Scylian planets. Foreman." Slim replied, lifting a nearby rock at the entrance and retrieving a dusty bag hidden beneath it filled to the brim with junk metal(hidden beneath the junk was a bunch of stolen minerals and tools from the mine.) the alien had scavenged.

Slim turned in the other direction, away from the town. "Don't follow me, Amril, I'll shank you and use your guts to feed my slimy young."

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#, as written by Gasmask
Slim slunk low; muttering a swear under his breath and lowered the brightness of his red optic with a dial on the side of his jaw. The alien drew out a small metal pipe from the bag on his second set of shoulders, sneaking low and dashing across the distance on all fours. The alien was attempting to get close, hopefully, he would.

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#, as written by Gasmask
The alien's first thought about this new stranger that he didn't look ready for what good old planet H would give him. Slim snuck behind the figure; reaching out a single arm to tap the human on the left shoulder. The paranoid alien bore metal teeth and swung the pipe at his head with well-mediated force; just enough to break conscious, not his skull. Hopefully, Slim wasn't experienced in not killing things.

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#, as written by Gasmask
Big mistake. The cowboy should've fallen over. It would have made this easier. Randin's heel would hit a very hard metal head. The pipe went flying into the dirt and one arm flinched backwards; the alien hissing. The alien bent over and tried to headbutt Randin's forehead with all of it's might. Even if his skull was made out of metal, how'd you like to feel your brain-case rattled around.

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#, as written by Gasmask
It only smudged the toughened glass casing. Slim really should've invested in those miniature windscreen wipers. The alien lifted one of his right leg high and went to drive it onto Randin's forehead with enough force to knock him out. He'd play silent attacker for now.

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#, as written by Gasmask
The kick hit chitin with a loud crack, the blueish leathery skin underneath splattering the ground with light blue blood. Scythian's were relatively weak around the abdomen area, as skinny as it was. Slim screamed in pain and brought his leg down a second time in pure spite. The flesh-fucker was in for it now. "You owe me now, human." Slim hissed.

The alien's back arched and the blood begun to thicken around the damaged chitin, much like a coagulated blood that refuses to dry. The alien stepped back and adjusted it's backpack.

Slim went to grab the detective with his second set arms which were both longer and stronger than his frontal ones, they grabbed for his right foot and if they succeeded begin to drag him with Slim towards the alien's original plan.

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#, as written by Gasmask
The hideout was set under a green tarp, which was in turn covered in eighteen inches of sand and dirt. Slim's broken spaceship laid beneath the tarp, an angular Aschen cargo transport with an irritated red splatter crossing out the Aschen Symbols and Lettering. Randin was tied to to a chair with duct-tape and rope looped onto each-other, a jug of purified water on his lap.

Slim however was clinging to the side of the ship, a welder in one hand and the other three clinging to the wing. There was a loud buzz and sparks, it was evident his desire to leave was mightier than keeping his prisoner tied up.

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#, as written by Gasmask
The alien paused, pulling up the safety guard of the welder and turning the wheel slowly until the plasma drained from the battery and then threw it over his shoulder and jumped down the spaceship with a few agile jumps and landing with a soft thud on the sandy floor-tarp. The alien pulled the revolver from his hip-holster and strode over to his prisoner.

"Who the fuck are you?" The alien asked.

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#, as written by Gasmask
"Because you're either Aschen or stupid." The alien spat back, crouching down to look him up and down, he'd already patted him down for weapons. "You know what planet you're on, right? I sure hope you do." Slim said, frowning, well, trying to anyway.

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#, as written by Gasmask
"Join the club. Aschen and Terrans look the fuckin' same." The racism was shared it seems. The alien shrugged all four arms and started to pull the duct tape off. "Well, sorry for attacking you, Stranger. But this place is fucked and I wasn't taking my chances." Slim offered Randin a hand. "Slim. Sorry about the rough start. I hate the 'Empire' just as much as you, and I need some help." The alien finished, standing up.

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#, as written by Gasmask
"Too crunchy." The alien replied, semi seriously. "I was worried you were some Aschen asshole here to find this ship and take it back." Slim replied, disposing off the tape and rope and gesturing towards it with his third thumb. "Crashed."

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#, as written by Gasmask
Slim nodded, disappearing into the spaceship and throwing a ration pack over to Randin( Gravy and Steak flavor.) and dragging over a table with his second hands.

"So, what kind of politics?"

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#, as written by Gasmask
"Someplace far away, Stole it, Terra. Probably, maybe, no fucking idea." Slim replied, shrugging at tearing into his ration nonchalantly.

"You?"

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#, as written by Gasmask
"Engines are fucked. Been in the desert for a couple of months now, sand dried up all the fuel and I've been... Making my own." The alien gestured towards a sick looking lab set in the back covered by rocks, slowly transforming water into usable fuel. "You sounds like you fucked up, and you had to try. All I did was smile." The alien replied, leaning back against the ship.

"NO passports or anything?"

The setting changes from space to Gambit's Bar

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#, as written by Gasmask
The alien retreated into the bar from streets pouring with gunfire between the Aschen and Taiyou forces. Slim regarded the cat and the other girl with a scoff and ordered a drink, stealing two other drinks with his other hands.

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#, as written by Gasmask
Slim awkwardly waved back with his fourth arm. "Hello." The alien replied with a gravely voice, going back to looking at the rows upon rows of alcohol.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Space

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Character Portrait: Randin Kaye Character Portrait: Slim
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#, as written by Gasmask
The four-imbed alien laughed. "Viiohla! Da'lok contanet!" It swore at him, pointing at him and gesturing with it's robotic eye. "I'm Scythian. Fuck Aschen. Racists. Crash here. Tek'lok." The Scythian laughed. "Finally tracked me down, eh? Somebody shoot me down, bang bang." Slim added, seemingly more comfortable with his now less hostile acquaintance.

The ship around them was an old hulk of a machine, chipped white paint with orange stripes ingrained with sand and dust. It was ramshackle, one single compartment connected with two sleek wings with patchwork repairs taken from other vehicle wrecks around them, apparently this alien had been working on this for a very long time.

The Scythian pointed to itself with one of it's spare arms. "Slim. I let you go now, vo'toshalulel. Robiak." The alien crept behind Randin and pulled a rusty kitchen knife from a nearby box, slicing the bonds off his prisoner and jamming a gasmask forwards. "You assist repair, need this." The alien showed him in painstaking detail on how to screw in a new filter, and how to clean the shiny hexagon patterned visor.

The alien jammed the gasmask into Randin's hands, not caring if he dropped it or not and scampered off like an ape up the cockpit, shoving the welding mask back down and begun to weld the seams of the cockpit. "This ship take us into light space. 'VROOOM' .Yes yes?" Slim made a flying ship gesture with it's spare fourth hand while it welded the seams. "Far away. You help. Yes."

"Enemy of enemy. Friend." The Scythian announced, glimpsing at Randin and then threw down the welder and scampered up the wing, pulling up a fraction of the plating and looking at Randin. "Pass wires. Go in second engine. ACHIEVE LIGHTSPEED. Hyeh haahahhaha. Leave Aschen bastards long behind." Slim cackled, pulling up the welding mask, a wide grin on it's ugly face.

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Character Portrait: Randin Kaye Character Portrait: Slim
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#, as written by Nemo
Randin flinched as the rusty knife sliced through his bonds, still half-expecting the mysterious alien to gut him in the belly. What did this thing want? His help to get off this planet? Randin wasn't sure if he trusted Slim yet, but he didn't think he had much of a choice at this point. He was likely the only living thing around here in miles... and probably the only non-hostile living thing in lightyears. If the detective had any chance of making it back to Terra, it was with this guy.

...on the plus side, Slim DID have a sense of humor.

"Yes, yes, far away," Randin nodded, smoothing his unkempt hair back and mopping at some of the sweat on his brow, "I can help you. I can help you, but we have to work together, yeah?" He looked intently at the alien. "No funny business, yeah? We're a team now. No stealing. No hurting. No killing. We help each other." Randin stepped forward, extending his hand towards Slim. "Then we go vroom."

"Name's Randin, by the way."

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Character Portrait: Randin Kaye Character Portrait: Slim
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#, as written by Gasmask
The Scythian nodded and shook his hand with a spare hand. "Need to get out. Missing engine block. Styh vito kao." Slim said to his new partner, jumping down off the wing and pointing off into the distance, stripping off the welding mask and kicking open the cockpit to reveal the missing engine, a mess of wires and support frames where the block should be.

The alien picked up a strange looking rifle with his third hand, loaded it with a nearby magazine filled to the brim with regular looking bullets and cocked it with his fourth. The alien was even stranger now with his head exposed, a single electronic eye following the humans movement. "We need hit convoy that come though desert every so often. It Aschen. Carry parts between camps, the direction you came from says that they'll be sending confiscated equipment off world. It come in two day, and I need hunt for dinner for two. I go, you stay here and figure out where there could be engine block." The alien started to walk for the exit of the makeshift tent/ship wreckage.

"Gun under the table, duct-taped to underside. You grab. Could be people looking for you." and with that, the alien dissipated into the sands.

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Character Portrait: Randin D. Kaye Character Portrait: Slim
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#, as written by Nemo
After Slim had gone, Randin walked slowly over to the table, reaching beneath its underside and feeling for the weapon there. His fingers clasped the grip euphorically. In one swift motion, the detective ripped the pistol out of its hiding place and held it up to the artificial crimson light. It was a crooked, dinky little thing... but it WAS a weapon. Cool silver. Hot lead. His dexterous digits coursed over the device, gliding over familiar curves and edges with gentle articulation. Randin actually smiled. Holding that gun in his hand seemed to do more for the battered officer then two months of intensive Taiyou medical attention ever had.

Filled with fresh fire, Randin was suddenly more determined then ever to get back home. His body was functional. His mind was unbroken. There was a piece in his hand. What more could he ask for?

Walking over to one of Slim's many cluttered desks, he began sifting through various papers and files. Randin was no engineer, and didn't have the slightest clue as to how he might procure an engine block for Slim through technical means. He WAS, however, a detective. He didn't need to know how to operate a starcraft engine to find one.

Picking up a stack of mucky Hala newspapers, Randin set to work...

---

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Character Portrait: Randin D. Kaye Character Portrait: Slim Character Portrait: Confederation Protection Force
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Outside the hovel/wreckage a pair of headlights shined into the hovel, their bright white-blue hue reflecting off the cluttered wreckage. The sounds of engines churned and the sound of tires on gravel filled the area.

The sound of voices echoed outside, shouting in what could only seem like Latin. If Randin fancied a look, he would spot a two large sedans painted in blue and white, with the familiar CPF Logo on the sides. Behind the pair of Sedans was a white Lynx IFV, painted in the CPF Color scheme.

More Anquietas shouts echoed as a single patrol officer approached the hovel, the click of a flashlight followed, as he crept up towards the entrance.