[sb118-khitomer] Lieutenant Charles Matthews - "Warrio Spots"
Shakeel Hussein
((Beta Module, Commercial Sector, DS33, Alpha Isles))
Charlie had been wandering around on Deep Space 33 for the past forty-five minutes. Despite his sister’s advice, he was alone, but he was actually enjoying the relative solitude; the passersby and other patrons, Officers and whoever else going about their business on the Station, weren’t enough to interfere with his privacy, or his mood. He had contemplated taking some time out at the Kai Wynn Contemplation and Seclusion Space but had decided against it, even trying to find his “inner self” at the Jaresh-Inyo Meditation Space didn’t appeal to him, and he did tend to enjoy meditating; the peace of it all.
Instead of either of those, he had wound up in the Commercial Sector, hoping he would be lucky and find someone or somewhere where he could get his recently damaged guitar fixed. To his disappointment, Matthews did not, and after a meandering walk through the Arboretum he found himself outside a small, run-down looking store that was tucked away in a corner, probably in an attempt to hide it, named Warrior Sports. It wasn’t exactly appealing; the neon lights illuminating the sign seemed to need repair, seeing as a person could mistakenly call the store “Warrio Spots”, and some of the merchandise on display in the window looked like it was struggling to maintain its structural integrity. Charles was sure a few pieces were held together by some sort of adhesive tape.
Despite the exterior appearances, the Lieutenant suddenly found himself passing through the doorway, almost against his will, and glanced around the dingy store. As he passed through an aisle, glancing from dust-covered item to dust-covered item, Charlie was not surprised that the lighting was being kept at minimum levels. The place was a mess. Even the circulated, purified air of the Station was stale here, there was a musty scent that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, not that he would actually want to touch whatever was making the smell. He was just curious.
As he rounded a display shelf, full of what looked like twenty-third century phasers and disruptors, all of which looked faded in colour under a thick layer of dust, Charles found the cause of the smell as he locked eyes on the proprietor of the store. A Nausicaan; a tall, aged man, complete with tattered clothing and straggling dark hair, leaning against the counter like he just wanted the day to end or a black hole to drag him off to anywhere else. As the tall alien slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes focusing on Matthews, the Tactical Officer offered a nod as a sign of respect, only for his attempt at placating the Nausicaan to be met with a disapproving grunt.
Nausicaan: Disruptors are deactivated, hu-man.
Charlie shrugged.
Charles: Well, I’d have thought so. Are you allowed to sell live ordnance?
The Nausicaan grunted once more, this time not saying a single word, and Matthews couldn’t help but smirk as he carried on down the aisle, his eyes quickly noticing the curve of metal as he spotted a display cabinet full of bladed weapons.
Charles: ::under his breath:: I didn’t think so. ::pause:: These blades; the lirpa and the meqleH ((mek’leth))… are these genuine?
Nausicaan: You question my merchandise?!
Charlie finally took his eyes off the cabinet and focused on the proprietor.
Charles: Yes.
The Nausicaan scoffed.
Nausicaan: I could kill you with one, hu-man. Would you doubt me then?
Charles: You might want to re-think your sales technique. ::pause:: It doesn’t look like you’re in the position to lose a sale today.
Matthews stared the Nausicaan down, fully aware of their reputation, but remained steadfast against the piercing gaze of the taller alien. There was a possibility that Charles would have to smash open the cabinet next to him and defend himself --- it was well known how aggressive the race could be, it was after all a fight with a Nausicaan that had resulted in then Cadet Picard losing his biological heart --- but he had gone too far to back down now, even if it was stupid to have let it go this far.
Suddenly, the Nausicaan, that Charlie internally had dubbed “Warrio” softened the look on his face, if they could do such a thing, and he let out a hearty laugh.
Warrio: You are brave, hu-man! All my merchandise is genuine. I wouldn’t be able to operate here otherwise.
Taking a few large side-steps around the counter, the Nausicaan approached Charles with a small set of keys, presumably with one of them able to unlock the cabinet in front of him, and playfully, with a fair whack of strength in the effort, whacked Matthews on his recently dislocated shoulder.
Warrio: Come, let’s get this sale sorted. Are you Starfleet, hu-man? I can have these sent to your ship…
Charlie winced as the pain shot through his shoulder, but he clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, eventually easing it to allow himself a weak smile.
Charles: I am Starfleet, Nausicaan. The Khitomer. You can have them sent there.
((Timeskip; A Few Moments Later…))
Lieutenant Matthews left the almost dilapidated-looking store, blinking firmly as his eyes readjusted to the brighter lighting levels. He shook his head ever so slightly, fairly certain that he had paid a lot more latinum than he actually needed to but considered it a fresh air tax as he took a deep breath of the cleaner air of Deep Space 33. Fairly certain the smell had clung to his dark grey chinos and black t-shirt; Charlie patted at his choice of attire, fairly certain that something was biting him.
oO Has “Warrio Spots” got bloody fleas?! Oo
Not paying attention to where he was going, Charles carried on walking towards the crowds of the Commercial Sector, very much hoping that he would feel more and more clean with the distance from the weapons store growing greater and greater. Wondering whether or not he would need to go through a decontamination chamber back on the Khitomer, or burn the clothes that he was wearing, or perhaps even both, he scrunched his eyes as he vigorously scratched at the back of his head, when all of a sudden --- THUD --- and pain. Something hit him, or he hit something. Or someone. Had he clattered into someone? Realising he’d gone into them with his already hurt shoulder, his eyelids remained tightly closed for a second longer before he took a rasping inhale of air and opened them, quickly glancing around with concern in his brown eyes.
Charles: Damn it!
Ohnari: Response
Whilst the concern remained, surprise also etched its way across bearded Charles’ face.
Charles: Doc--- Doctor Ohnari?
Ohnari: Response
Matthews took a step nearer to the Chief Medical Officer, his hand outstretched towards her.
Charles: Are you alright?
Ohnari: Response
Charles: ::weak laugh:: We really need to watch where we’re going. Is that the second time now?
Ohnari: Response
TAGS/TBC
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Tactical Officer
USS Khitomer NCC-62400
A240012CM1