Closed;

[khan_artist]

Characters: Jim Kirk (jirk), Khan (khan_artist)
Date: September 8th
Location: Fire Sector
Situation: So a genetically-engineered human augment walks into a bar...
Warnings/Rating: Physical violence.

Most of Khan's finances, weapons, and food came from shaking down the numerous gangs in the Fire Sector. Now that he had relocated to another suite, one with three floors, he had spent most of his juulan customizing it to suit his needs and now he needed more. Grabbing his hooded trench coat, phaser pistol that Jim had given him, and a few well placed knives on his person; Khan left his suite.

Finding them would be easy enough since he already knew which establishments were paying them protection money. One of them was one of the older bars that could be easily be missed were one driving by, a rare thing in the sector since most of it's buildings were rather lavish.

Pausing only briefly to eye the red car outside, obviously one from Earth, Khan walked into one of the very few dive bars in the Fire Sector. Here he could simply wait for them to arrive, their collection schedule simple enough for him to figure out.

However, he wasn't the only foreigner here.

Comments

[khan_artist]

"1992." He corrected the slight passively. That reign was a little over a year ago for him even though centuries had passed.

"Perhaps. I was content to sleep." He didn’t sign up for any of this, not when he had his crew in suspended animation. An eternity of merely being in their presence is more to him than any person’s highest wants. "Starfleet’s mistake."

[jirk]

"And why is that, exactly?" he says, harsh. He can hear the words in Khan's voice, you should have let me sleep, and the sick sight of him crushing Marcus' head between his hands. It's a sobering thought, and this is the guy who, minutes ago, Jim had wanted to take a swing at him.

"You conquer a world, escape, and then you want to kick back on a beach somewhere? Isn't that a little against type?"

He doesn't like this conversation for a variety of reasons. It's not going where he wants it to, it's not doing what he needs it to, and the worst part of all? It's making him empathize with Khan. A warlord. Someone Jim hates.

[khan_artist]

"Human Augments were being hunted, exterminated." He knows the irony there and his words are as hateful as the sneer that mars his otherwise impassive face. "We were the last ones left and escape was our only option. There was little we could do except take advantage of being in stasis; wait until our time had become nothing more than a memory. So yes, Kirk, I was prepared to spend an eternity with my crew if need be."

He resisted the need to make the jab about letting sleeping dogs lie, besmirch Starfleet further for all that it had done to him. Dig in at Marcus supposedly being the paragon of the organization itself.

Instead he just inwardly seethed at the situation he was in. Apart from his crew, indefinitely for all he could calculate and relying on the Emperor’s word, let alone Jim’s. As if anyone from Starfleet was really worth trusting.

[jirk]

"You act like it's some kind of injustice. Your people subjugated an entire planet! All because you think you're better. You really don't have a leg to stand on when you're whining about extermination, jackass."

Jim sighs, steps away from Khan. Drags a hand through his hair, watches his breath in the cool night. Against his better judgement, his curiosity gets the better of him. "What was it like? Back then."