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William Goodfriend

For Godsakes let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories about the death of kings

0 · 743 views · located in Wing City Main Entrance

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

Description

Image

Name

William Goodfriend

Nickname

Bill

Alias

Marcus Rovey
Thomas Marx
Jack Goodfriend

Race

Human

Affiliation

Paramilitary of the Occidental Expanse

Position

5th Strike Squadron, Commander (Inactive)

Rank

Lieutenant-Commander (Inactive)

Visual Age

Late Twenties

Factual Age

32

Gender

Male

Sexual Orientation

Heterosexual


Skills

Piloting, Weapons handling, stealth, singular mindedness, loyalty

Weapons and Equipment

S-48 BMEC (Bio-Mechanical Environmental Containment) Unit: A suit that allows for survivability in even the harshest of locales. The S-48-W is designed for outer-atmosphere excursions, whilst Bill's type C is more suited for standard Nuclear, Biological and Chemical attacks and temperatures ranging from -30 degrees F to +145degrees F. The maximum allotted time for wear is around eighty-seven( 87) hours. The suit is equipped with pads that wick sweat from problem areas and are disposable. While utilizing the life-sustaining implements being medical augmentation, extreme heat and cold resistance (-240 F to +240 F) and portable atmosphere scrubbers drop the time to around three (3) hours.

History

William was an officer of good standing. He did what everyone wanted. He kissed the asses of the right people and disgraced those going against the grain. He put money into the government ownership programmes so that perhaps one day he would have his own ship. He dated and planned to marry because there were no single Captains. The person that was planned for his affection was the daughter of an Admiral and to his credit, William thought her lovely. Isobel was lovely, the problem was she was everyone's someone. She still had suitors even after they were married; people plotting against him, death threats even a particularly belligerent Ensign who attempted to bash his head in with a tungsten bar. Over time they grew apart and something malicious said to her father sealed his fate. He was slatted to go on a mission that when the logistics were known (thanks to an opportune tip from a friend in Military Planning) would end up being suicide. He left taking a ship 67% his and fucked off. Away from pettiness, away from Admiral's daughters and away from shiftless governments. Now on the run William just wants to find a place where people question little and credits can be made in all manner of work.

So begins...

William Goodfriend's Story

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William walked in with a laboured limp. He had been sitting far too long and his right buttock was numb. He frowned as he made his way to the bar. He took off his mask and sighed. It was nice to breathe air not scrubbed by his overworked equipment. He surveyed the eclectic features of the place and wanted to centre himself before ordering a drink.

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He mindlessly looked at the electronic menu and ordered a simple gin and orange. Moments later a robot trundled over and William gave him the credits required to purchase the pauper's drink. He took a sip and the taste made him hungry. He would need to remedy that soon. He heard the word "spacer" and turned and faced a young woman. "Ah yes, a spacer indeed. You are, I guess...something else?" He disliked making small talk and sipped his drink.

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Not wanting to let on he didn't know who this Lord was she spoke of, he nodded. Ah yes well all young maidens need to know of such things." He took a drink and wanted a cigarette. "I, uh, am a pilot my ship is outside. You say cruisers, do you know of any work?"

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He laughed. "Ah. Escort you say?" William thought about it and in truth his ship was really more of a distraction than a threat. It was fast as long as they would not have to travel deep space. "What sort of escort work is it? I only have a two person craft. If that is a deal breaker, I'm sorry." He finished his drink and ordered another.

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William thought about it, thought about wanting to start slow, not wanting to make waves. Escorting one girl from point A to point B seemed easy enough. "I best be honest with you, I'm new to this space and have not a clue who the Azrican are but if you're paying. I'm flying. Standard dollars would be fine. I'm Thomas Marx, glad to meet you. Miss?"

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"Great. Very good to meet you." He got his drink and paid the robot. "So you are military then? What of this Azrican station? Do I need a special clearance to dock?" He sipped his drink and looked over the menu for eatibles.

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"and I am easily won over by ladies who pay for food." He smiled and it felt forced so he let it quickly melt from his face. He wondered if she intentionally ignored his question regarding the space station or it slipped her acknowledgement. "As I said, these Azricans, do I need a clearance? or is it a free-dock facility?"

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"Don't worry Miss Ayanami, we'll get you to that transport. I don't foresee us eating and drinking for a week." He wondered if what she ordered was large enough to sate his powerful hunger. He had been on rations for so so long and it depressed him. "What did you get to eat and is it the large size? I've been out there...long and you know, not really getting cooked meals." He smiled again, forgetting the last time and it turned into a grimace which he covered with a cough and drank the remainder of his drink.

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"I always like to keep busy and..." He eyed the assortment of foodstuffs and grinned. His stomach gurgled like a drowning rat and he picked the first thing that looked tasty to him. It tasted fried and delicious. He ordered two beers from the robot and turned to the woman. "I guess work is a hot commodity around here," He said with a full mouth. "Do you know any gossip, any place I should avoid?" He swallowed and the robot came with his two drink, he paid and took a drink from one that was almost half the glass. "You seem like you're in the know, sorry if I ask too many questions." He picked another snack from the tray and ate.

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He was shocked. "Looked down upon!? Why ever would you be looked down upon? You who are the food bringer? Terrorists you say? Hmm, seems to be a problem everywhere." He drank the rest of one of his beers and started on the other. He picked out another item and it tasted like feet. Yet he ate it anyway. "I have not been to a red light district in a very long time and have very little desire to venture there." He took a drink to wipe the nastiness from his mouth.

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"Well people always assume first by sight." He patted his pockets hoping for a cigarette, though not eating much the lack of consumption for the past month had shrunk his stomach. He felt very bloated and uncomfortable. After moments of rooting around, he found a crumpled pack and three bent cigarettes. He took one out, along with a match and lit the smoke; inhaling deeply. "I wonder if with this energy you say, people are jealous of you. It's gotta be nice to fly home if the engine goes and they can just plop you in am I right?" He exhaled and drank the remainder of his beer ordering another and paying for all three.

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"One of us?" He asked. "What sort of person are you?" The robot plodded back with his beer and he sipped it, then took a drag off his cigarette.

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He nodded. "Yea I'm afraid you lost me. What is an MS girl? I gotta say you seem more than capable being in a bar by your lonesome." William thought about what the girl said Made to fly he was made to fly as well. Pushed by his father into a service he wasn't really prepared for. That was the past and this place would be his new home.

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He decided that he needed to see about a room as well but decided more pressing matters of drinking his beer and finishing his cigarette was more important. He would meet the young lady tomorrow perhaps, finish the job and be that much more closer to becoming established.

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He had just finished his beer when a some thing crept in the bar covered in filth. Once he drank a beer soiled with hydraulic fluid and saw...things much like that. He debated getting another drink and tempt fate all together. He took a drag off his cigarette, throw caution to the wind and order two more beers

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William saw the military presence and stiffened. It was one of those things in the back of his head someone might recognise him though he was far from home. He played it calm, paid for his drinks and quietly sipped one of them. He watched the cruddy form scurry away into a corner and he waved at it. Why not, he thought. He finished his cigarette and acknowledged the military presence with a head nod.

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He smiled down at the creature. "Hmm I wonder what you eat? A lady bought this sampler dish and you can totally have some. It's good!" He smiled again. He would like to give the thing a hosing down. It wasn't healthy being covered in filth where people eat. He drank a sip of his beer and patted his chest for his cigs then noticed them on the bar, he pulled one out and lit it with a match. "So can you talk little...creature?" He exhaled.

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William walked down from his room feeling refreshed. It was a start to a new day and he hoped the little escort mission to the Azrican space station would just be the beginning of the work he would pick up. The bar had a more lively robot behind the bar pacifying two young girls. He sighed. Space was no place for children. He approached the bar. "Hey, can I get a gin and orange?" He waited for his drink and decided to smoke his last cigarette.

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He took the drink and sipped it, taking a drag off his cigarette and noticed eyes on him. He turned and one the young girls was staring at him. "Do you know me child? It's impolite to stare. You and your sister might be more wary of that in the future." William never had children of his own and with the brazen nature of today's youth he didn't miss anything.

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"Look girl; sister, friend it doesn't matter I'm not writing a book. You have me confused with another. I do not know you." He sipped his drink and his stomach growled. "Hello? Robot? A lady yesterday got this sampler platter it had all the tastes of Terra? Could I get one of those and another drink?" He turned back to the girl, "I must have one of those faces you know. You two be good now." He said.

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"I'm really unsure what you are talking about, girl" He smoked and the unsettling comments from the girl piqued his curiosity. "Okay, I'm not sure what you are, honestly. I'm just here to drink my drink and wait for my client. That's it." He had very little time to entertain children.

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"Shit" William said. This was an odd space; Crazy robots, girls turning into horses. It all was a little too much. He opened his mouth to speak when hell broke loose. The alarm klaxon blared and everyone seemed to evacuate. He did notice that the worker behind the bar might already be dead. He would guess his hunger would go unsatisfied. It was this time when rain fell from the ceiling, wetting everything. Some sort of internal fire suppression system thank the all the gods. His drink ruined, his cigarette ruined and now his good mood ruined. William sat there as the water fell.

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He watched as the strange bartender collapsed. William didn't know much about icemen or whatever the hell this guy was but he would be damned if he just let the man who brought him drinks lie on the ground like a dog. He made the motion to get up but a robot came over and apparently decided the frozen bartender was fine. "Oh what the-" more ruckus from the entrance. More fire as well. "No place for you ice-man." William made his way to downed bartender and attempted to move him with little success. "Shit, hey guy, wake up!" He tapped the man's face.

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scratching his chest and yawning he sauntered into the bar, eager to begin his ritual of four bourbons and a soft boiled egg. He nodded in acknowledgement to the two in the booth and sat down at the bar ordering his drinks. He had an uneventful day planned; one of ease and with little stress. He lit a cigarette and exhaled.

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William Goodfriend Walked in and surveyed the area with a surveying gaze. A lot of people were here and the atmosphere was overwhelming. In such an event there was only one recourse; get as inebriated as possible and avoid trouble. Yet trouble, be it inane or more severe seemed to follow him; constantly shitting in his proverbial breakfast. He made his way to the bar with his eyes down and sat on an empty stool and ordered the bar's finest, cheapest whiskey and lit a cigarette.