Utterly Mad

YOU CAN'T FUCKING DO THIS!" Pinky shrieked, momentarily deafening the man slipping envelopes under doors and at least one other doing the same thing further down the hall. "I'LL HAVE YOUR... your... YOUR FUCKING BADGE!"

The man, despite the feral shrieking woman, seemed to be taking all this in stride said simply, "We don't have badges." This of course set the Albino Misling off on another tirade of deafening screaming and obscenities the likes of which would have Kathrine fainting dead away. Pinky was practically frothing with rage, but undeterred the man went on. "It's not in my hands anyway Ma'am. The Misling and city councils have handed down the order personally. You can take it up with them if you want. Personally though, I'm with you. My son-"

"YOUR SON?!" Pinky cut in sharply, "WHAT ABOUT MY STAFF? WHAT ABOUT MY BUSINESS!?" It went on and on, Pinky heaving all the abuse she could at the man, a soldier of some kind by his dress, and he simply standing there and taking it. It was clear to Catnip that he was a person who'd seen a great deal of this kind of treatment in his time, and in a way sort of enjoyed it.

"Your staff will be trained enough to go out and come back, we need every hand we can get. They'll mostly be digging trenches and-" he began.

"DIGGING TRENCHES!?" Pinky howled, "THE ONLY TRENCHES MY STAFF SHOULD BE DIGGING ARE THE ONES BETWEEN-"

"Mister Os- sorry, Captain Ostler?" Asked a young woman in loose fitting Pricetown fatigues who'd managed to sneak up while the man, Ostler, had been trying to be reasonable with the establishments proprietor, "I've run out of draft slips sir." Pinky waited as patiently as a boiling pot for Captain Ostler to give the lady, more girl than lady, Pinky noted angrily, a fresh stack of envelopes to feed under the doors of the brothels bedrooms. When that business was concluded Pinky had regained a bit of composure and went on more calmly.

"This is bullshit you know, absolute bullshit. Whatever happened to my influence here in town?" She asked.

"Gone with King I'm afraid." Ostler stated matter of factly.

"We both know I'm not going to get them all back." Pinky seguied. She looked up the hall to where Catnip was standing and watching them, a plain white envelope held with both hands. The sight seemed to nettle Pinky, so she shot her glare back on the Captain. "She's not even going to go onto your maintenance line, is she? Catnip, get your butt in your room goddamnit." Catnip, feeling the tension now, did as she was told. Slowly.

"That's the one Command has been dickering with you over?" The Captain asked before going on, "Not likely. She'll end up in the regs. If she's lucky and shows a bit of aptitude, maybe the Shattered Helm. Listen Ma'am, from what I've seen so far your staff are living pretty soft compared to the rest of Pricetown. Chances are, most of them aren't going to get past the basic physical and they'll be right back between the sheets in no time."

"So? Some of them will pass. She'll pass it, no problem." Pinky huffed, thinking of Minx. Minx was plenty soft, but Minx's unique augmentation would make her an asset, if the draft could find her. Chances were they wouldn't, but still. Pinky tapped her foot angrily, then huffed again. "What it boils down to is I missed out. I missed my chance to cash in my chips and I'm about to take a hit to my pocket book?"

"I don't know about that. When she comes back-" he began

"IF she comes back." Pinky corrected.

"Alright, if. If she comes back, she's going to have a great deal more experience than she had before, maybe come back a hero. Wouldn't that be good for business?" Ostler asked.

"No." Pinky said sneering a little, "It would be good for business if she worked from her bed, but she doesn't. No, if she comes back then it's either gonna be in a body bag or with even more trauma than she's got already."

Ostler didn't tell her that the Sanguine council rarely sent people back at all, and those that they did send back would be better off dead. Telling her that wouldn't make it any better, and the woman was clearly loathe to give the mechanic up. He didn't tell her that any fighting would likely be a hellish ordeal, Regs and Shattered Helm trying to beat back the swarm of screechers coming out of Algol in tanks disguised to look like water deliveries. The events of the road block still stuck out in his mind vividly, and it was that horrendous image that kept him thinking, "How did they get so much of it into a fuel truck, and why? Algol had a regular army, so why send such an unpredictable thing to Pricetown?" He shook his head to himself. Questions to be answered. They would find out soon enough.