Raziel
ComNet Veteran
[VE-ARMY] Major
[VE-DJO] Dark Jedi Knight
[VE-ICS] Privateer
Post Number: 1456
Total Posts: 2873
Joined: Feb 2001
Status: Offline
|
The Nameless Man
|
|
July 29, 2010
11:04:39 AM
|
|
He took a step towards his target
No sound was made
He raised his hand
Someone pleaded for mercy
He pulled a trigger
Someone died alone
Someone else was paid
He hit the deck with a dull thud. The nameless man groaned and lifted his head just far enough from the floor to look at his adversary. For a moment there was silence, only punctuated by the faint sound of his blood splattering the floor under his face.
"I just want to know how you got on board this ship, all you have to do is answer one simple question and we can end this," his adversary spoke calmly as he advanced. The man on the deck had the sense to roll away from a lazy kick, aimed for his ribs. He wasn't entirely sure why he wasn’t bound during this interrogation, he could only assume that by beating their prisoner to a pulp in this way they were hoping to reinforce some sense of despondence and speed up the interrogation process - or confession - as his captors had called it. "I don't enjoy this at all. I just follow the path that has been set out before me, causing you pain gives me no satisfaction.
“In fact,” he continued. “It is a sin I will have to repent for later. It is a sin, but a necessary one." His assailant monologues, still advancing. The prisoner rolled further away, but there was nowhere to run in the confined cell.
He forced his legs back underneath him and made an attempt to avoid the flurry of blows that came his way, but several landed home. A solid punch to the gut dropped him once more, but his captor was not done. Burly hands held his shoulders, preventing him from crumbling. He leant into the broad chest of the man and just tried to regain his breath. He was currently in a small metal interrogation room, maybe ten metres across and square. There was just one entrance, a six inch thick durasteel door that could only be opened from the outside. Only himself, his interrogator, and a few decorative sprays of his blood were inside the chamber.
Strong hands reached around to his neck and hoisted him into the air and pinned against the bulkhead, a heavily muscled forearm forcing up upwards at the throat. "We found you completely alone, locked on one of the hangar bays and without a ship, all whilst we were travelling through deep space. Just explain to me how you got on board and this will end."
"Unff ... Magic" he gasped. His eyes rolled up and he went limp in the interrogators grip. He was dumped to the floor unceremoniously again. Dishing out one final kick of frustration the burly torturer turned and made his way to the exit. The door slid open for him.
In the messy bundle of tortured flesh on the floor. Alert eyes snapped open.
Just one guard on the controls outside, time to move. He pushed himself up to a crouched position and set about the flesh on the inside of his left forearm. He bit down with his teeth, tearing at the skin, hot blood filled his mouth. The pocket of false skin had been grafted on a long time ago, but it was still a living part of him with nerve endings and circulation, the pain was almost unbearable. Fingers probed at the ugly gash on his arm, they found purchase and pulled. He had to suppress a scream as the false flesh was ripped from his own. The bloody weapon fell to the floor.
It was delicately thin shard of organoplastic that had been hidden in a pocket of real skin on his forearm. He reached down and carefully picked up the sharp blade. He held it behind him as a hiss announced to return of his interrogator. He smiled a wide bloody grin.
"It is time, time for your final con….fesh…on", the statement stuttered to a halt, the confidence in the tone fading. The Paladin in the doorway raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
8 Weeks previously
An almost inaudible beep drew his attention to the datapad. Decrypting ......….... 75% the screen read. Good encryption took time. The faster a file could be decoded with the key, the faster it could be sliced. The encryption on this file meant that a standard datapad took nearly an hour to unload the files, but on the plus side that meant a slice would take nearly a year.
He lifted the datapad up, checked the completion estimate and then set it back down on the bar table next to his pistol – it was just that kind of bar. If you weren't openly armed, you were generally considered fair game. His most expensive side arm remained holstered, putting a priceless antique on show was also inadvisable in a place like this. The blaster and datapad rested beside a half empty drink. On entering the bar he had order a strong drink, taken it to his booth and poured half of it on the floor. That way people he conveyed the impression of being in the bar for a drink and reduce the chance of standing out. Little things could stand out in someone's mind in hindsight.
The Nameless Man could be anyone and yet he was no one.
The weight of the rail pistol in its holster was reassuring, developing attachments to weapons came much more easily than with people for him. Before energy weapons had become widespread the final evolution of projectile weapons had been lightweight rail weapons, coil weapons and micromissile launchers. Whilst typical firearms were cheaply mass produced along side blasters, the more advanced weapons had all but ceased to exist.
It has cost a small fortune at an anonymous guild auction and the cost of restoring and arming it hadn't been cheap either. The master weapon smith who reworked the rails had cost more than the weapon itself. The Nameless man had ordered enough solid and hollow point ammunition to last a lifetime and promptly murdered the artisan.
The weapon had its flaws, namely that the recoil was probably going to cause his serious joint problems in the future and that it consumed both large quantities of power and ammunition. On the plus side it could nail a round through a duracrete wall on full power, let alone body armour designed to absorb blaster fire. Rounds didn't require explosive charges to launch, so the ammunition was compact, yet carried far more momentum out of the barrel than a firearm. If you could hold it still it could also discharge an entire mag of ammo in a fraction of a second.
Using a distinctive weapon was not recommended in his line of work. He liked to taunt the authorities by leaving something of a trail in his wake. Also if they attached a persona to his crimes, perhaps that would give him some form of self definition. The fact that the Nameless man thought in this way gave some insight into the current deterioration of his cognitive state, as his perception of self identity slowly slipped away once more.
Beep ......….... 90% The Nameless man was a remover of inconvenient obstacles by trade and he was hoping for a more interesting target with this contract. The last had been a simple affair of cracking a military grade security system and waiting for the mark to approach to a fatal distance. The retrofitted medical scanner his employers had provided automatically identified the target, checked for life signs and transmitted the contract completion code when attached to a holonet transceiver.
A patron made a move to occupy a seat in the booth. The slightest of gestures conveyed a subliminal warning and the patron moved on, nearly spilling his drink as his feet changed direction before his brain had caught on. It was always preferable to avoid overt threats, but that patron would never have consciously noticed the flicker of anger on the Nameless man's face and the twitch of the hand towards the blaster.
Another beep heralded the completion of the decryption and decompression of his latest assignment. He lifted the datapad and briefly scanned the summary file.
A Bounty Hunter . . . Now that was more interesting. He would never admit to sharing some principles with a bounty hunter, their work was so much more . . .legal . . . Apparently this bounty hunter had lacked the sense to submit to a threat and had carried out an arrest on a smuggler anyway. Said smuggler also happened to be related to the most wealthy slave trafficker for a quadrant. There were various details to be analysed, but he would memorise them before deleting the datafile momentarily.
He gained access to a central database linking most of the bounty guilds in existence and started to search. The easiest way to catch a bounty hunter was to set a trap, if he wasn't currently on a bounty it was a simple matter of posting a false advert and leaving an appropriate trail.
That wouldn't work in this case, he had already taken up quite a valuable contract. If the target was more easily tracked than the hunter it would be a reasonable alternative to waiting for him to finish his current contract. Of course given the size of this bounty and the targets history of making foolish decisions waiting opened up the possibility of not getting the chance to make the kill personally.
The contract the bounty hunter had accepted loaded on his datapad. If he had been holding a drink he would have dropped it. The target of his target was actually an acquaintance from a few years back. From the days when I actually needed a name . . .
Present
The Paladin held his ground at the threshold. The unbeliever whom he had been beating to a pulp had taken on something of a predatory aspect. What had been left as a miserable pile of flesh was now crouched low and staring him down.
The Paladins faith was only shaken momentarily. In our Maker we trust. He silently repeated the mantra and took one final step forwards.
The prisoner uncoiled like a spring, lithe muscles working in one concerted fashion and closed the gap in a heartbeat. The Paladin braced himself for a collision, but the Nameless one whipped the organoplastic blade around and struck. The blade was weak and flexible, but sharp and unyielding across the wide axis.
The blade didn't decapitate the Paladin, but such was the force of the blow that it severed most his his neck from his shoulders, only stopping at the spine. Arterial blood violently sprayed forth, but the Nameless had already pushed the corpse to the floor and bounded out of the room.
The guard at the console was already reaching for a weapon and the escapee realised he could not cross the gap between them fast enough. The blade was too light for a throwing weapon, but with a flick of his wrist he launched it forwards anyway. He launched himself after it, nimble feet dancing on the now bloody, slick floor.
The blade had the desired effect, the guard raised one arm to deflect the blade and in the process his other probing hand missed the grip of his blaster. The Nameless surged across the console and collided with the guard. Both men when to the ground in a tangled heap, grappling, striking and biting each other in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Technical skill only went so far in such a contest, and the Nameless was tired, beaten and suffering a severe weight disadvantage. He was struck painfully many times and the Paladin forced him down, beginning to gain an advantage in footing.
However surviving similar experiences countless times before meant the odds were never stacked that highly against the Nameless.
3 weeks previously
He awoke and opened his eyes just before his ship dropped out of hyperspace. He preferred to react ahead of any major occurrences. His seat raised itself from a position that suited slumber, to one that put the controllers within reach. Checking his instruments a voice from the open comm channel prompted him “Incoming transport, submit identification and prepare your nav computer for docking instructions.”
He checked what identification he had used when he departed and picked a different one, his hacked ships ID beacon switching instantly. He had received a security broadcast informing him that the target of his target had been sighted in this sector. His employers had sent out a set of instructions, coded within a regular holonet advert, that detailed this specific location.
“Transmitting now,”
“Thank you, please hold your position, this won't take a moment and you can get on with your delivery,” returned the voice in a friendly manner. His ship was a fairly common courier vessel, such ships were generally fast and known to frequent all corners of the galaxy. No one paid much heed to these models. Whilst they occasionally carried small but valuable cargo, more often they were personally delivering information which had no monetary value attached and they were often too quick for pirates to catch.
Whilst outwardly appearing normal, there were of course modifications. EM shielding hid changes to the internal structure. A typical vessel of this class had 23 percent of its mass devoted to propulsion, this one had 42 percent. Furthermore the main weapons had been stripped and replaced with advanced passive scanners and countermeasures. Only a rear missile launching system remained. The computers had been replaced with advanced models that could plot a hyperspace route in a third of the time.
It had been modified with one purpose in mind, turning about its axis, deploying countermeasures and accelerating away before it could be targeted.
Over time he had been purchasing identities of similar vessels that had been retired or destroyed. He had accrued thirty four Ids so far, although three of those were now unsafe to use in most civilised sectors. This ship appeared mundane, but it was really a ghost.
“Identification processed your ship, the Wyvern, has cleared our registration check and you may follow your appointed approach vector. Welcome to Sluis Van.”
Present
The larger man used his bulk to pin his foe to the deck. His arms reached for the neck of his opponent. Bernard's murder had been swift and brutal, but he would choke the life out of this heretic in retribution. Then, inexplicably, he realised the man underneath him had found some purchase on the floor. He tried to maintain his oppression by pushing down with all his weight, but he found himself being lifted by his opponent. Without warning the man underneath him dropped and span and he found himself falling after him, realising that his head was about to collide with an elbow far too late.
The blow collided with a crack. The weight of the descending Paladin meant he was knocked cold by the impact. The Nameless man rolled out from under the guard and, finding a shard of the shattered blade, promptly slit his neck to be certain.
He got to his feet and did a mental check of the situation. The plan had mostly come together so far, but he had expected to be in such poor condition at this stage. His blade was shattered, leaving him with a single blaster. His nose was definitely broken in several places and the searing pain in the side told him at least one rib had been cracked. The nose and the various cuts would need repairing afterwards, scars and distinctive features were bad. Maybe the external lack of distinction caused the internal one? he mused.
The brigs control panel was not linked to the rest of the ships systems for security reasons. That meant he needed to find a new access point. His sharp mind was already weighing up options and prediction outcomes . . .
3 weeks previously
He had followed the bounty hunter from a distance, observing him as he followed some leads. He had been making enquiries about a docked 720 Class Freighter and had quickly headed into the shipyards.
The remover was now stalking his prey down a long alley with many side streets. Whilst he watched for a possible opportunity to strike, he knew the a different location would be preferable.
And then he spotted her. A quickening in the pace of his assignment alerted him to the fact that the bounty hunter had seen his contract too.
As he walked an angle that brought him parallel to the bounty hunters direction he considered his choices. He could allow the bounty hunter to capture his prize and attack whilst he was distracted by his quarry, or he could strike now. The former option was more sensible, but inexplicably he found himself angling towards the bounty hunter.
He had no idea is the bounty hunters target had noticed him bearing down on her, he she had she made no obvious sign. The killer decided he would have to close on his target quickly, the location was too public for a blaster fight and if he first shot was wide of the mark then he didn't fancy his chances against the bounty hunter. He brought himself alongside the hunter, the others attention too focussed on his own quarry to notice.
It was over in an instant.
He pulled the bounty hunter off the main walkway and out of sight. The nearest civilians backed away from the scuffle and made noises of discontent, but no one made a move. The bounty hunter struggled against his grip, but it was already too late. He had placed a patch of a deadly neurotoxin on some exposed flesh and a shiver of the hunters muscles told him the toxic had nearly done his job.
He noticed the bounty hunters original target moving forwards them both, blaster upholstered. She had clearly noticed the bounty hunter bearing down on her. The Nameless reflected that he had probably made the correct choice after all she probably would have gotten the drop on his target.
He flashed a security badge at some of the civilians who had decided to pay attention to the scuffle, but some of them were still obviously trying to contact the authorities.
He laid down the stiff corpse of the bounty hunter on the ground. She had followed them both down the side-street and was pointing a heavy blaster pistol in their direction.
“You!” she exclaimed. And then she spoke a name he had once used.
Present
He sat beside the bodies of two technicians, working as fast as he could. Wearing the same uniform as the two men he performed one of the most basic slices he had ever performed. He was slowed down by the fact the ninety five percent of the ships resources were currently being used to plot a hyperspace route. That fact on its own proved that he had little time remaining.
He needed information, that was all his mission required. The fleets current position was not enough, he needed to know where they would be. The computers were currently plotting a course to a shipyard for repairs, but such places were heavily guarded. The information he required was in the military planning sections, but these were highly secure.
The computers finally divulged some fragmented data. He scanned through. Battle plans, tactical summaries, acquisition orders to account for recent losses suffered . . . None of this helped.
Then he found a name. The name of a system and a time-scale for an invasion. That would do, now he know which ship the individual was on and where that ship would be at a fixed point in the future.
3 weeks previously
She kept the weapon trained on him as he pulled something from a pocket.
“Easy now,” she warned. He showed her the device was harmless and activated it. The scanner rose under its own propulsion over the victims body and began a scan.
“ID confirmed. Account to be settled at your convenience,” It stated in an artificial voice, returning to his hand.
He looked directly at her for the first time and rose to his feet, keeping his arms out wide, his hands visible. It didn't mean much, he had a holdout blaster in each sleeve.
A commotion from behind her signalled the arrival of the authorities. He tipped his head questioningly and she slowly lowered her blaster. He strode past her and was gone. Turning to inquire something of him, she discovered he had already disappeared from sight amongst the moving crowd. A few curious civilians remained at the entrance of the alley, looking at her and the bounty hunter, assuming they had just witnessed a mugging. Deciding she could do without further delays, she hurried further down the alley and found an alternative route to the bar. She could try and interpret what the Frell had just unfolded later.
The Present
The captain of the Righteous Fury was not happy. He revealed this by pacing up and down the command deck in his full armour, shouting at his subordinate.
“And what do you mean he is no longer on-board?” he roared.
“No internal scans can find him, but we carry on the search!”
“Are there any missing escape pods, did any ships launch before we entered hyperspace?”
“No my liege, should we turn around? Maybe it was a daemon, sent to test our resolve,”
“So he escaped, murdered three knights and four crew before vanishing?”
“Yes sir, Bernard The Absolver of Sins was taking his final confession before it happened.” The captain sighed. Bernard had been one of the most talented Paladins at taking confession. He murmured a prayer in his honour.
“There are daemons in this world brother, but they are made of flesh and blood and can be punished.”
“Sir.”
“Summon an Inquisitor!”
3 weeks previously
Despite what she had said to V a few seconds earlier Kami ordered a glass of water at the bar, only momentarily eyeing the brown liquid with trepidation before taking a wary sip. Ignoring its suspicious brown colour it seemed relatively harmless, much more so than the potent alcoholic mixtures behind the counter that were already calling persistently to her within the confines of her mind. It would have been easy to take a stool and throw a credit down on the bar to silence the yearning of her body but instead Kami forced herself to turn away and wander further into the dim interior of the building.
She looked down at the card she had found in her pocket moments ago. A series of contact details etched on its surface. Raziel had not been seen for a long time. She wondered why she was now holding what appeared to be a method of contacting him.
|
- OOC:
- This may well need some further editing. I'm seriously out of practise im afraid. Oh and i'm sorry for the mild retcon of kami's previous events.
+ Advance Recon Commandos {ARC} +
PL:A/CPT/Raziel/1PLT/1COMP/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE/{EW1} (WoS1) 2x(VP:1) {IG} {CDS} {BoA} {PoC} {BC} {GRoM} {SoS} {IH}
"Computer games don't affect kids; I mean if Pac-Man affected us as kids, we'd all be running around in darkened rooms, munching magic pills and listening to repetitive electronic music." Kristian Wilson, Nintendo, Inc, 1989.
"God does not play dice with the universe" - Albert Einstein
"Who are you to tell God what to do with his dice?" - Bohr
"God does not play dice with the universe. He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e. everybody], to being involved in an obscure and complex variant of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time." - Terry Pratchett
CM/DJK Raziel/lion 1-5/Krath/VEDJ/VE (WoS1) (VP1) (VP2)
[This message has been edited by
Raziel
(edited July 29, 2010
12:15:14 AM)]
|
|
|
