Decon Narrative

When I'm roaming from region to region I like to cut the journey short sometimes and dash through hi-sec space. Well, in theory. In fact this usually makes my journey slightly longer but it adds the chance of some fights along the way instead of roaming empty lo-sec after empty lo-sec. Usually, when I'm heading from the Verge Vendor/Essence side of town up to Heimatar/Metropolis I like to take a diversionary route through the lo-sec island systems as I like to call them. Isenan/Parts/Obalyu and then on to Seyllin/Ane and then further on towards Decon/Sharuveil. For the most part these are quiet systems surrounded by the pickings of hi-sec space. Occasionally you get lucky and the odd target or two drops in through the unwelcoming gates of lo-sec space.



This particular evening is looking like a routine case of empty-space tumbleweed-infested systems. On my last stop in Decon however I notice a Catalyst loitering in one of the belts and landing just inside scram range soon dispose of the unfortunate destroyer.

But this isn't the story of a mixed-tank destroyer.

After docking up for a little while I then notice a couple of characters in local that grab my attention. Undocking an Enyo I am alerted to two Thorax-class cruisers seemingly parked at the sun. Are they catching a suntan or doing something else? I am not going to let them bake for much longer and immediately point my ship in the direction of the sun.

I land 100k off of them.

Not wanting to spook them further by burning towards them I warp out and then back in at 100. Half expecting them to have warped off at my initial sighting, I am gladly surprised to find myself jumping on their beach towel as they continue to soak up the rays.

A fairly straight forward pair of kills for the Enyo. Nothing spectacular but for some odd looking fits to look at. At this point I decide to dock up for the night in Decon.

The next morning I open some mail from one of the Thorax pilots and this tickles me somewhat. Always nice to know that your work is appreciated.

There are people in local and I'm looking for something for breakfast. Maybe I can grab myself one of those tasty newbies that James Chapdelaine talks of? Or perhaps I should don my tuxedo and go search for a proper meal in the bountiful spacelanes of null-sec? Hmm.

There is a Vexor in local with the pilot's name flashing on the d-scan like a beacon.

That will have to do. An interesting fit come to think of it.

Now as I am disposing of Vexor number 1 another Vexor shows up on scan and then quickly disappears. Instinctively I point my Enyo towards the top belt and sure enough I land at zero next to him.

There is a strange feeling you get when you notice energy neutralizers eating away at your capacitor and you can't do much about it.

Shield Enyo, no nosferatu. Shit.

This is a brawl. A race for survival, we are like two junkyard dogs, scratching and biting--fighting for our lives in the mud.

Neutralizers and no cap and then brief bursts of blaster fire. No guns on the Vexor. A mixed bag of tech 1 and tech 2 drones. Do I use my brief and somewhat precious chunks of regenerated capacitor to try and take out the drones or do I concentrate solely on the ship?

I choose the ship.

This is going to be close.

There is a strange feeling you get when you notice that your shield Enyo has just entered structure and your guns aren't working.

I manage to fire off the odd burst of blaster fire but my guns resemble a dead car battery on a damp and cold winter morning.

The Vexor dips into structure. Like a fallen beast he staggers backwards and his neutralizers are no longer stinging ... like the dog I am I seize the moment and go for the killing blow, a new found level of adrenalin as overloaded blasters finally start ripping into the larger hull.

Heart pumping.

I am at 22 percent structure.

Hold it!

I know he is working those cap boosters. I don't want to see any more neutralizers.

Stars are born and collapse in the time it takes the last slither of the Vexor's hull to crumple under the darkened sky of Decon this fateful morning.

But crumple it does.

With the taste of blood in my mouth I bite at the pod as hard as I can. No time for holding back frenzied dogs.

I'm not sure what the Omega's job is there.

The pilot opens up a conversation and we exchange gf's and he tells me he thought he had me there and I must admit he is right. It was a hell of a close call. It's a pleasant chat and we close the convo with a salute.

And then.

Anyone for tennis?



MB.


*update. Another 1.5 billion was added shortly after this blog post went live.