#bookerposting

An incredible amount of you lose shit on the Omninet.

That being said, some of the wreckages today came up with more strange things.

- A completely sealed 1000 thread count sheet set (with duvet)

- A piece of art done in classical painting styles that eerily resembles an acquaintance of mine

- One workboot with teal laces

- An old monocular telescope

- three limes

- eldritch horror potato

- a crowbar made out of rebar (????)

- A dog collar, sans dog

- A sealed glass jar of peanut butter that's so old the contents are...murky.

- a rubber duck with a cowboy hat

- three strange copper coins

- a hairclip

- a really fucked up and dented wrench

- four bananas, still fresh (and edible, according to Mira)

- a fully disassembled firearm

- one shoe

- a paracausal marker (confiscated)

- a half-eaten sandwich (baloney, tomato, and...jam? Strawberry jam???)

Sometimes one finds the most bizarre things out in space.

Question for you two pairs of chucklenuts

Say ya got cloned?

Would ya tap that?

What? No! What-

-Booker

You've set him off. He's got that thousand yard stare. Oh no, now he looks introspective. And depressed.

-Mac

Answer the question, Mac.

-Mira

Uhhhh. I mean, yeah? Why wouldn't I? It's me. I know me best.

[whatdoyoumeanMORErpf.omif]

Zero~

[A photo is provided.]

[It features an increasingly confused Booker squinting at a screen, wearing half-moon reading glasses.

He is wearing a stark crimson suit, tie not yet done and shirt half-buttoned, sitting at a heavy farmhouse style dining table. It's clear he's heading out to some sort of party soon, his hair artfully mussed and pushed back with some sort of pomade. His wedding band and a single long dangling earring glint in the artificial light.

His brow is furrowed with what looks to be the beginnings of a headache, a whiskey glass hanging loosely from his spare hand.

It's almost completely untouched.]

Mac...what the fuck is an "Omegaverse"?

- Mira

I...Christ the Buddha.

This wasn't how I wanted-

I...

Fuck.

Safe travels, safe skies, and may the stars light your path home.

I know you both left CORSAIR. Rightfully so. I won't ask of you to get dragged into this coming fight but I'm sending the call to anyone I think can make a difference.

I understand if you want nothing to do with Signal and the threat they pose. But any help? I'll take it. Whatever you can send.

You both... you both deserve to rest. I promise CORSAIR will never bother you again after this.

Till Legends Bleed.

//Morse\\

Booker and I had a long talk about this, Morse.

There's some shit at home that complicates things, and...and Booker made me a promise.

But as couples do, we compromise.

You may not have the Empress in the sky, but if push comes to shove, Rose and I will be there.

And hey. I'd apologize for being blunt but you're not my employer no more.

Y'ain't ever gonna get rid of us, Morse. Practically family, the dogs would miss you and your love if you stopped pesterin' us.

At the end of the day, CORSAIRs old and new will always stick it out together.

-Mac

Besides, Morse, it's not as if Graves and Co. isn't actively supporting CORSAIR or anything. Do bother us again in the future.

It'll be an honor to have an Innes under my care, just... I hope you know what you're doing signing up for this operation.

//Miss Morse\\

Ah, Aimee.

It is hoped that you will do well by him, and keep him in your care. He's in his workshop at the moment, and the glow of his tools can be seen from the house.

Rest assured, he knew.

He knows.

An Innes will sail with CORSAIR again, as is tradition.

As any Lancer knows, once the stars ingrain themselves in your blood, you will never leave them.

May this be the last crusade of the old guard.