Alastar Mason

Just call me Mace. I've got a knack for tech and I'm not too shabby at piloting a ship. I'm sorta stuck on Pandora at the minute but... well. At least ammo's cheaper here than Promothea. [Independent Borderlands OC RP blog. Faceclaim is Eoin Macken]

[griftingpandora]

"If not destiny, a healthy sense of self preservation. I’ve heard things about corporate assassins, none of them nice." But that part’s for Mace to decide. Fiona’s here to sell business, all the same.

"Simple. I find the tech, and you tell me if it’s the real deal, what it does and if it’s about to put a nice chunk of change in our pockets. There’s a lot riding on this, and some of my usual sources have their own agendas." That’s the least of it.

[callmemace-blog]

"It's not... it's not assassins, okay?  It would be easier if it was."

It would be easier if he could just be someone else entirely but that wasn't an option either.

He sighed at her proposition, feeling his fingers itching to get involved.  His weakness for tech was what had got him here in the first place.  But he'd only be assessing it, right?  Valuing it.  Not using it... not long enough for any kind of signature to be recorded on it.

"And what makes you think that I don't have my own agenda?" Mace asked with a raise of his eyebrow.  That Fiona wasn't trusting any of her usual specialists was a little worrisome.  What kind of tech was she looking at?

[callmemace-blog]

[ Mace and the mysterious guy from his past! ]

Devin.  Devin was everything Mace wasn't.  Charming, confident, ambitious... he had quite the hand in making Mace who he was and getting him to where he was today.  In more ways than one.

They travelled and worked together for months, pulling off some of the most spectacular heists and hacks on Promothea, leaving barely a trace of themselves behind.  In time, what was a fast friendship became something much, much more.  Looking back on it, Mace would call himself a fool in love, but he rarely looked back because looking back hurt.

The problem with loving someone so completely, letting them shape you and encourage who you should be, is that when they betray you it's more than just having the rug pulled from under your feet.  It turns your world upside down, makes you doubt your own existence, question the person you see in the mirror every day. 

Was what they shared a lie from the start?  Mace still questions this.  It's been years, but there's been no closure, no answers, and no way to simply leave it behind, even on a different planet.  Mace might claim the relationship has ended, but he still carries the weight of the shattered pieces around, unsure of how to put himself back together.

[petite-powerhouse-deactivated20]

Ask my muse questions about their relationship with another character.

[callmemace-blog]

I LOVE THESE PLEASE.

[griftingpandora]

An eyebrow raises at the veiled threat, unintentional or otherwise. It’s Pandora; she trusts people to do a job but not with her life.

Undaunted, Fiona returns to what brings her here. Or at least, the process of talking her way up to it. “In the neighborhood with a few fresh prospects on the horizon. I mean, c’mon. The hermit routine’s getting a little stale by now, right? Smells like it, anyway.”

The quirk of her mouth brightens her expression into something warmer, friendly, practiced and confident. “You could use a job. I could use a hand. It’s like fate telling us to watch each others’ backs. Are you really gonna turn down destiny, Mace?”

With that, Fiona plucks up the mug of tea and sips to her heart’s content.

[callmemace-blog]

"You can't honestly say it smells worse in here than it does out there."  At least there wasn't skag vomit or rotting bandit parts in here.

He sighs, relenting somewhat when he realises he's not going to shake her that easily.  Fiona was tenacious, if nothing else.  "I don't believe in destiny."  Destiny.  How many times had he heard that word only for it to end in disaster?

"Tell me what it is, then I'll let you know my answer."  He didn't do blind jobs anymore, not for years.  Too much risk for very little guaranteed reward.  

[griftingpandora]

"So, you’re throwing in the towel and waiting for them to beat down your door? Kind of like I did, by the way." An eyebrow raises; she cradles the mug between both palms and stands, pacing closer.

"What’s a visit between friends?" The smile Fiona wears is easy-going, maybe a little too much.

[callmemace-blog]

"You knocked and I let you in," Mace points out stubbornly.  "If you'd tried beating it down, things would have gotten... messy."

Cornered or hiding, Mace is not helpless so long as he has power and a console.

He looks at her suspiciously, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms stubbornly.  "I take it you just happened to be in the neighbourhood, then."  He's not buying it.

[griftingpandora]

"So, all this is about some suits from your past?" There’s being careful and cautious, sure, and Fiona understands that, but it’s a big planet.

"This lying low thing isn’t going to cut it. If you’re serious about staying ahead of them, you’ve gotta ditch this place. The shut-in routine is best left to the black market hoarder in Sanctuary."

[callmemace-blog]

"Not just... not just suits."  Mace sighed wearily.  "He's a suit now but... look, the less you know, the better.  I can't keep running without dragging hell behind me."

Being found would mean fighting, and Mace had no desire to give that part of him the satisfaction of killing men, even men that were hunting him.

That, and he wasn't sure if he would ever be ready to kill Devin.

"Why are you here anyway?  You didn't come hunting for me for a chat and a cup of tea."  He poured the kettle anyway and handed her a steaming mug, setting milk and sugar on the table.

[griftingpandora]

He’s asking why again, and Fiona’s ignoring it again. Instead, her eyes are narrowing.

"What do you know? I like stories, and I’ve got time. Go ahead." As if illustrating her point, Fiona makes herself at home by kicking back in a chair.

[callmemace-blog]

He huffs irritably and moves to put the kettle to boil.  He might be hiding but that didn't mean he was a terrible host - and tea would make him feel better.

"Other corporations are sniffing around Pandora thinking Hyperion can't stop them."  They're wrong of course, but corporate types weren't exactly smart.  "And I've had some of my past bite me in the ass.  People just don't know how to let things go."

[griftingpandora]

“‘Hi, Fiona. Nice to see you, Fiona. How’s life, Fiona?’” The string of comments are rattled off in a tone that’s meant to mock Mace’s. Poorly, at that.

"Hang on. Let’s rewind. What’s with the secret agent act?"

[callmemace-blog]

"Hi Fiona, how's life Fiona, why are you here, Fiona?" He mimicked her poor imitation then shook his head, sighing wearily.

"I'm sorry.  It is good to see you, it's just... I need to lay low for a while."  Probably forever.  "It's a long story."

[griftingpandora]

"Oh, wow. You sure convinced me. Guess I’ll turn around and, y’know, not knock harder and talk louder."

If her sarcasm isn’t apparent, the renewed knocking removes all doubt. “Whatever’s going on, we can talk about this, alright? That’s what partners do. Or I can keep making a lot of noise and attract all kinds of people.”

[callmemace-blog]

He sighed in frustration and let his head thunk against the metal of the door.  Bloody persistent woman.

Mace unbolted the several locks of the door and opened it, shooing her inside before anyone could see.  "You shouldn't be here," he said exasperatedly.  "How did you find me?"

[griftingpandora]

callmemace

When Fiona sometimes says she knows someone with a knack for this or that, she knows a few, the ones who are worth their salt and let in the cuts. These days, that list is shorter than it used to be, but there’s still Mace.

The only problem is, she’s had to work to find him.

Standing outside the building, she isn’t entirely sure she’s found the right place.

That isn’t anything a swift knock against the door can’t fix.

[callmemace-blog]

He almost missed the knock on the door, so engrossed as he was in the jumble of wires and circuits on his workbench. Mace got to his feet, wondering who was knocking; he wasn't expecting anyone today, which always sparked some worry, but at the same time, Atlas bounty hunters didn't usually knock.

He opened the hatch in the door, his eyes meeting Fiona's through the gap for a moment before slamming the hatch shut desperately.  "I'm not buying anything, please leave!" he said earnestly, hoping she hadn't seen enough to recognise him.  As much as he liked Fiona, there was usually trouble around her, and trouble meant making noise, and making noise meant Atlas would hear.

[callmemace-blog]

"Was that an open broadcast aimed at anyone in particular, or just anyone who was listening?"

[hyperionides]

"The fact that you’re asking me that question is pretty disappointing. What do you think?"

[callmemace-blog]

"From your reaction now, the latter, which now begs the question of what did - or didn't - happen to prompt the reminder."

[callmemace-blog]

[RECOVERED] Hyperion Surveillance Log

[callmemace-blog]

Mace wrinkles his nose and tugs his collar up around his neck, reaching into his pack for his goggles.  They’re meant to shield his eyes and help with little things like reconnecting network wires and soldering, but they’ll do against dust as well.  ”Big place,” he said simply, keeping close to the canyon wall.  ”Is all of Pandora like this?”

[controlcoreguardian]

"It has more diversity than you’d think," Angel comments absently, as if in thought. "There are worse places for a crash landing but not by much."

[callmemace-blog]

"That's... reassuring, I guess."  He pauses to lean against the canyon wall, shaking out the sand that is already building in his boots and clothes.

In the distance, he could see the silhouette of what looked like a large 'L', against the horizon.  The canyon gave way to a large expanse of sand and dunes, and there was the sound of engines in the distance.

"What's this Ellie like?"  Suddenly trekking across a desert to see an unknown person wasn't such a good idea.

[hyperionides]

"You’re all morons."

[callmemace-blog]

"Was that an open broadcast aimed at anyone in particular, or just anyone who was listening?"

[hyperionides]

It’s still pretty interesting, don’t you think? I mean, yeah, sure, you haven’t done anything to me yet—and now I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna get that chance. Unless you want to be served up to “another corporation” on a silver platter.

You strike me as a fairly intelligent crook, Al. I’m thinking you’ll make the right choice here. You turn yourself in, and this all goes away.

[callmemace-blog]

I'll take my chances with running, thanks.  Last time I trusted a pretty face, I ended up as someone's scapegoat.

[hyperionides]

"You know that feeling when you get gore all over you favorite pair of shoes? Yeah, not cool.”

[callmemace-blog]

"Is it the kind of gore that's worse than skag vomit?"

[callmemace-blog]

[RECOVERED] Hyperion Surveillance Log

[callmemace-blog]

"Networked?" Mace repeated, pausing to cover his eyes against a gust of wind that kicked up a cloud of dust and who knew what else.  "You’re an AI?  Or… something else?"  He wouldn’t mind being networked in somewhere.  Sounded handy.

"Ellie. Right. Got it.  Uh. Which way’s the Dust?"

[controlcoreguardian]

"Yes." It’s a lie. As much as she’d like to tell someone otherwise, Angel can’t.

The blast of wind and sand whips against his comm device. Angel checks Mace’s position again. “You’re definitely in the Dust,” she points out. Her voice holds a tone of amusement.

[callmemace-blog]

Mace wrinkles his nose and tugs his collar up around his neck, reaching into his pack for his goggles.  They're meant to shield his eyes and help with little things like reconnecting network wires and soldering, but they'll do against dust as well.  "Big place," he said simply, keeping close to the canyon wall.  "Is all of Pandora like this?"

[mathematicallyhilarious]

"Is this thing on? Like, really on? On a scale of one to smooth jazz, how bombastic is my voice?

“‘Cause this is important, minions. So important that I, Claptrap, intrepid traveler of the galaxies, have returned home to spread the word.

"About, well, me!

"I know some of you are hearing some epic tales about yours truly and that one time I was a one-wheeled, one-lensed, all badassed roving unit of death.

"I wanted to reassure everyone that it’s all totally true!

"Let’s go right to the part where we all celebrate with a group hug! C’mon, minions. Don’t leave me hanging."

[hyperionides]

There’s a long, drawn out sigh.

"I hate you."

[callmemace-blog]

Mace raised an eyebrow at the strange robot and Jack's reaction. "You know this guy?"