Hunter Chronicles: Another Kind of Captivity (Peripherie & Renegade Vile)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Renegade Vile on 24-07-2014, 00:16:16</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Hunter Chronicles: Another Kind of Captivity (Peripherie &amp; Renegade Vile)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Renegade Vile</strong> on <strong>24-07-2014, 00:16:16</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">The Hunter - Arden Kingsley</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/22/Arden_Kingsley.jpg)</div></div></div><br><br>Aion. Said to be the pinnacle of evolution. The story is unknown to the common person in the street, and Arden is no different. Ever since he was born, he has been listening to the stories of the master race of humanity, reaching a level of understanding of the very fabric of space and time itself, that they transcended mortal coils. Creating Aion, they departed the ancestral home and slipped into the space that rests between realities, a hub that connects all parallel worlds and every distinct moment in time. They say falling from Aion into the vortex beyond is akin to experiencing every decision made by every sentient being across the entire expanse of the universe and beyond. The thought is enough to send shivers up the spines of anyone who believes those stories. When this had happened is unknown; the stuff of legend. Hundreds of years ago. Thousands of years ago. Millions of years ago. Somehow, it seems as though time no longer has a meaning. The isolated and absolutely gigantic construction known as Aion is all that matters. To most people, there is no world outside and there was never life before they were born into the synthetic corridors of the wheel. With their leaders living comfortably in a spiraling tower in the center of the spinning structure, hovering in a colorful vacuum of reds, blues and whites, they remain blissfully ignorant of where they had come from, where they are going and if their lives ever even amount to anything anymore. Those leaders are the men and women said to be the enlightened deities of a race that now control the building blocks of reality; using them as playthings. But Arden has seen them bleed; seen them die. They're no different from anyone else and while it is all just conjecture, he gets the feeling they stopped understanding their own technology a long time ago.<br><br>A wheel-shaped construction, Aion houses well over a billion souls, with space for plenty more. Divided into 18 districts around the torus, each spanning 20 degrees of its circumference, some are vibrant habitats, while others have descended into disuse, becoming ghettos, or worse, abandoned hives where whatever caused it to be evacuated in the first place can gestate, unwatched and undisturbed. Just like people turn a blind eye to the past and the future, they turn a blind eye to the troubles in their midst; hoping they'll just go away. Another sign that the masters of Aion aren't the overlords of anything. They are trapped on that wheel, with nowhere to go. In the center, connected through an intricate web of rapid transit tubes, stands a bidirectional spire several kilometers high. One of the highest peaks is home to the men and women that govern the districts, with their supporting staff, military, scientists and engineers all living beneath them. But, on the opposite end, rest secrets no one seems to know anything about. Some claim it houses the power source that allows Aion to exist, while others say it is an immense archive that has recorded the past, present and future of humanity, until the end of its existence somewhere down the complex path of time.<br><br>All of it made a simple man like Arden's head spin, especially as he gazed at the spire in the distance from a window in a rundown office building. District 120 wasn't known for being the cleanliest of places to live, but it was secluded; private. Perfect for the type of work he was being hired to do.<br><br><hr><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Aion - District 120 - Rundown Office</strong><br><br><strong>"Are you even still listening, mister Kingsley? Or am I boring you?"</strong> the voice from a man in a dark blue suit snapped Arden out of his thouhhts and forced him to turn away from the view and look at its source. Shiny shoes rested atop a dusty desk, while the squeaky, wheeled chair he was seated in tilted back to give him a modicum of comfort. The raven-haired man was well-groomed, but clearly put on the tough guy act simply because he had four bodyguards waiting outside to come to his aid if he irked an associate in some way. He was a lackey, a face man, someone sent to negotiate on behalf of a nameless Distributor.<br><br><strong>"Yes. You lost a Tat and you want me to go find her. She escaped her cage, fled into the Dark Zone just outside District 140. She was promised to an especially wealthy Collector, so your boss wants to make sure this doesn't get out. I'm to sneak in there, illegally may I add, get her out alive. I'm to patch her up, dust her off, and get her home in time to be used as a table or whatever it is this buyer wants to use the poor girl for,"</strong> Arden explained, clearly dropping plenty of hints that the unique and dangerous circumstances of the hunt were going to cost the Distributor a significantly, pretty penny.<br><strong>"You'll be compensated handsomely, half in advance even, so long as we can trust your discretion on this. You don't have to like it; just do it,"</strong> the man replied as he pushed his glasses up from the tip of his nose and lifted his shoes off the wooden furniture. His arms came to rest on the desktop as he leaned forward. <strong>"So, do we have a deal?"</strong><br><br>Arden ran a hand through his chocolate brown hair, turning it into the significant mess it always was. Emerald hues came to rest on the datapad that had been placed on top of the desk, where he had been sitting opposite the face man. Those same disk shot up to meet an unsettling glare from the agent. The tall man was an experienced Jumper. The name Kingsley was spoken with praise in his circles and he had been known for getting the job done, no matter how dangerous or suicidal the task in question. Despite belonging to the illustrious group of bounty hunters that specialized in tracking supernatural entities through time and space, using the infrastructure provided by Aion, he hadn't been off-station in a long time. He was comfortable where he was. Or a previous hunt had left deeper marks than he cared to admit. Whatever the case, he straightened the weathered leather jacket draping his form and exhaled in a sharp sigh.<br><strong>"Yeah. I take it that pad's mine now? Could use the intel. I don't think I have to tell you that this isn't gonna be easy,"</strong> he stressed as his sturdy boots thudded across the floorboards of the poorly lit office. Gloved palms planted themselves on the desktop as the hunter's gaze settled on the wealth of files on his target.<br><br>Not easy at all...</div>
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