Best Of

Sairys said:

Can you partially fill an order or purchase an offer? (it's one of my favorite aspects of GW2s market system)

Also, is it possible for orgs/npcs to make market orders?

Seems like it could be a neat way for orgs to collect comms for expansion, particularly if partial fills are an option.

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

It’s not an easy thing when your best friend is pointing your own PIECE at you, and Buck was handling it worse than most would in his shoes. He could feel the shock of disbelief slowly starting to bleed away and pure, unbridled rage taking its place.

The Nath-El standing before him made a wet, gravelly sound with the back of his throat; a laugh that was once considered jovial by his friend, “You know, once upon a time I would have agreed with you. How does the phrase go? ‘You are the company you keep’?”

“I took you in Zain. You were nothing but a strung-out dung beetle and I gave you a home, and a job, and a purpose,” Buck spat through gritted teeth, “And I don’t believe you’ll be finding a better arrangement anywhere else. You can bet on that.”

“I can find a better deal than indentured servitude,” the insectoid hissed, “This was my score. It was my idea—“

“Using my connections.”

“Your connections are worth sixty percent?!”

Buck rolled his eyes, “Cut the shit, Zain. This is my ship, and I use the extra money to keep it flying, you know that.”

“Sorry, pal. I’m afraid I’ll be taking all of it,” Zain waved the pistol at his surroundings, “...all of it.”

Buck balled his hands into fists and fought the urge to reach for the empty holster at his hip. For ten years this guy had been at his side, doing all manner of less-than-legal jobs in the name of profit. They had shared everything: they had the same enemies, the same stories, even a few of the same women. Hell, they probably had the same blood type with the amount of times each of them had dragged the other from a deal gone sour, and patched up the bullet wounds. They were practically brothers as far as Buck was concerned, and now he couldn’t think of anything except how badly he wanted him dead.

Ten fucking years.

“Let’s go.” Zain walked him toward the back of the ship, past the sleeping quarters and through the galley. It was a small ship, and it was an old ship - some might even say it wasn’t worth scrapping for its skip drive - but Buck loved it, and he struggled to commit every detail to memory as he was marched toward the cargo bay airlock. He streaked a hand through his brown mane and scratched at the stubble on his face. A shower would’ve been nice, but then again he would have done a lot of things differently if he had known he was five minutes away from his demise. Which begged the question: why the delay? Why hadn’t Zain already shot him?

“Holy shit,” Buck stopped in his tracks, “you’re giving me to Gerdey, aren’t you?”

Zain smiled, his mandibles twitching with satisfaction, “You wouldn’t believe how bad that little bastard wants you dead.”

“He wants you dead just as bad,” Buck shook his head soberly, “I don’t know what deal the two of you made but he won’t honor his end. He’s coming for you next.” That awarded him a jab in the sternum from the barrel of his pistol.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have a head start. Keep moving.” They continued through the galley, finally coming to the cargo bay. “Get in.”

Zain pointed to a small cargo container, about double the size of a coffin, with several oxygen tanks attached. Buck had no idea how much the tanks actually held, but if he were to guess it would be somewhere between one to three days’ worth of air. It worked beautifully for turning in fugitives and live bounties, and in addition to keeping the subjects alive it also bought Buck and Zain plenty of time to get out of Dodge before any unsavory business associates showed up to claim their prize.

“Wow, you really are confident in this plan, aren’t you?” Buck chuckled, “You’re actually letting Gerdey get this close? You’re dumber than you look.”

“I’m not afraid of some over-hyped Elgan!” snarled Zain, “And I’m not the one getting vented into space, so I would keep my insults to myself if I were you.”

“And what if he isn’t able to find me? Can’t I at least pack a few sandwiches for the trip?” asked Buck, cocking his head to the side. He looked hard into his friend’s eyes, and what he saw there made his stomach turn to frozen lead. Zain returned his gaze, and grinned as he saw the realization slowly spread on Buck’s face.

He wasn’t meant to survive, he was meant to die slowly in that coffin over several days.

“You told them where our clones are,” Buck breathed, “you son of a bitch.”

“They are at the facility now,” Zain purred with satisfaction, “and by the time you’ve resurrected there I will be a long, long ways from your INR, which they will no doubt attempt to retrieve. From there I am off to find a cloning facility someplace none of you will ever find me.”

“This plan is so convoluted, only you could have come up with it,” Buck jeered.

“Well, you will have plenty of time to think of a bett—“

It was so fast that even the most fidgety Nath-El would not have seen it coming. The jar Buck had lifted from the galley was now spiraling in the air, its contents slowly sloshing within. The synthetic honey was supposed to be a gift to Zain, Buck had bought it from a small confection vessel in one of the wandering merchant fleets they had passed by a few weeks ago. When asked how potent he wanted it to be, he answered, 'Strong enough to knock a Nath-El on his ass.'

This it did. The jar shattered on the ceiling, raining synth-honey down onto the insectoid's sensitive taste and smell receptors. Due to its extreme concentration (it was meant to be diluted in one thousand parts of water), the honey overwhelmed Zain with sensations so intense it was as if molten steel had been poured onto him. He let out a blood-curdling screech as his body twitched and convulsed in agony, and bringing a shaky hand up to aim at the center of Buck's chest -- but it was too late. Buck grabbed the barrel with one hand and spun inside Zain's fire arc, driving his elbow into what would be the solar plexus of a human being. Zain staggered backward as more punches and kicks followed, blow after blow smashing upon him until finally he felt himself connect forcefully with the cargo bay wall at his back. The searing pain coming from his frayed sensory receptors ebbed, replaced by the deep and tactile ache of moderate physical injury. He let out a dry cough and smiled, lifting his gaze to find his friend of ten years.

But the man standing before him was no one he had ever met in his life.

"Say 'hey' to Gerdey for me," Buck said, and he felt the familiar jolt of his PIECE jumping in his hand.

---

((Just some backstory for my character, Buck Langdon. I promise he's not always this dark!))