"OK... Let's see here..." came a voice in the darkness. "Jaebus, Tzillin."
"Born?" came another, metalic voice.
"Uknown." declared the first of the two.
"Aw, fer fahk's sake!"
In the midst of a dark room, two figures sat at a long table cluttered with everything from ancient tomes, to fancy-pantsy glowing holographic panels. They were slowly but surely sifting through the litter, marking down important information, updating it, correcting inconsistencies... all manner of things that would drive one up a wall of solidified boredom, where it not for the occasional laughably entertaining segments and the fact that the two archivists were allowed to keep any pornographic material they found in the mess. And considering the last wardens were a bunch of rowdy, hormonal, Freudian exemplar teenagers, there was plenty.
"Says here he was born about 3384 or somethin'" said the first voice, sounding more female.
"About... About." sounded the metalic voice of the second, clearly male. "About and somethin', lass, are not good enuf! We need specifics 'ere, not estimates."
The owner of the female voice brought the glowing panel up to her face, revealing sharp features and contrast between her face and the black pits where her eyes should have been. She took the panel and tossed it into a nearby bin with outstanding precision.
"You really oughta try and remember not everything will be as precise as you'd like."
"Aw, shaddap an' help meh finish this'ere pile, would'ya?" said her companion. "Then ye can find someone to bang that ass o' yours an' relieve the stress."
The female archivist glared at the shadowy figure of her companion. Insults getting a bit stale? she thought. She just shrugged and started at the pile in the middle of the table.
"Ah." she muttered. "Here's one... Roland Strongfort."
"Ain't that the arse that went an' blew up an Aeon base witta fusion grenade hidden in 'is jock strap an' survived."
"Yep." she said flatly.
"Mustta left a few bruises. I wonder if we could convince Ivan to try it, fer the sake of experimentation."
The man chuckled, and with a visible grin replied. "Aw, Ah'm jus' fahking with'ye, Irene!"
All in The PastEdit
The Cyn Archives... the most extensive collection of information on all the inhabitants of the galaxy ever amassed, bar none. Well, ok, I suppose the Archivers had a pretty big collection too, but that's not important. What is important is maintaining this sunnuvabitch what with it always expanding and becoming public domain. Anyone can access it and change it as they like, spreading misinformation and often downright bullshit as they please. That's where Nihilus ul Nautilus Nyx comes in. Born pure-blood Cybran, raised to the status of Elite Commander within the ranks of the Cyn. The tiniest infraction around Nihilus is a capital offence, any and all those who he catches violating any sort of established law, and often being unfathomably dickish about it. Having run out of ways to get rid of the Cybran born of "The Ancient Scotts", the High Command had no choice but to place him in charge of the Archive, hoping that it would keep him off their backs. They were wrong as all Hell, but it satisfied Nihilus enough.
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Argus, m'old buddy!"
Nihilus held a large, antique holo-tome up to his face, revealing his greatly defined features. A small, hooked nose; ginger goaty; thin lips that always seemed to curl upwards into a perpetual smile; large, deep, black eyes with tiny red pupils that had pulsing red veins surrounding them that streamed down his hairline; and a shock of the same fiery red hair that graced his chin, albeit with a visible streak of snowy white.
"Hmm?" muttered Irene, noticing her companion's sudden mood swing (They were so common she had lost the ability to notice them quickly and would simply ignore it, often for the best).
"Yomoflach, Argus." declared Nyx. "UEF Black Ops Commander 1st class. One o' the finest military men ah've ever had the pleasure o' meetin', lass."
"You know this guy?"
"Sure I do! T'was that asshole who beat me in the Skora Range Invasion, ha!"
"You seem a little too happy talking about it' considerin'."
"Bah, naw. We were the best o' buds, lass! 'Fter every little skirmish, we'd go teh the local tavern an' get wasted out o're minds!"
"You got drunk with a guy who also happened to be your biggest rival, not to mention an enemy of the Cyn?"
Nihilus started laughing hysterically at this. Irene was tempted to take a sniff of the glass he had at his side to test what kind of drug could drive this guy, who downed a letre of LS-fucking-D in under a minute and not just survive but continue to operate normally, higher than balls in so little time. When he finally stopped, Nihilus just slurred out.
"What makes... heh... ye say that now, lass?"
"The guy blew up a Skanik T3 Morning Star Battle Cruiser, on foot for one of a million other things."
"You... are an incorrigible nutjob."
Irene sighed and raised her hand. "Let's... just get this crap sorted, shall we?"
Nihilus grinned and said "S'you wish."
Nyx opened the tome to a large page of dates and names and started to hover over each one. Tapping on one would bring up a sparkling blue boxy with white lines of text in it.
"Argus Yomoflash, born circa. 3798, Seton, died N/A. Species: Human. Gender: Male (very much so). Married to Evangeline Phillips, one sibling by name of Tanya Yomoflach (right nice ass, that one). Aliases:
- The Arrogant Fuckwit.
- Giant Walking Castle Guy.
- Eva's Stable Husband.
Cybernetically Enhanced, "3 D'Skarwen Krogoths in 10 minutes" (ha! I got five n' half the time!), Active as a Private Militant Contractor."
Irene opened an page marked annex and looked down at the date next to a another line of text.
"Drathkan Conflict, 3821-3824"