[font=arial" size="1] “Run diagnostic.” The voice demanded. A cyan HUD immediately flickered up in his visor. Several numbers, scanners, distance calculators, and miscellaneous accessories blotted across the screen. The systems went through their check-list, ensuring that every function of suit and visor were synchronized perfectly. It was customary to do, as proper PCCs and PCIs were necessary before every mission and engagement. Once the diagnostic was complete, the unneeded accessories cleared from the mainstream, leaving the essentials for today’s mission; a hunt and capture.
“Subject of Interest.” The suit’s HUD responded in a computerized voice. “Rhailo Destros. Auroun. Age unknown. Physical characteristics: White hair, long. White eyes. White skin. Height approximately 66 inches. Weight–unknown. Wanted by S'zari syndicate, rewarding 50,000 credits for the following: Grand theft, payment avoidance, assault and battery, subterfuge, vandalism,–” He cut off the list, satisfied with the aforementioned reasons. In all honesty, he didn’t even need a reason to do the work he carried out. All he ever asked for was money, such was the circulation of life. As far as he was concerned, all was fair.
“Mission ROEs” (Rules Of Engagement) The same computerized voice sounded out again from inside of the visor. Wind billowed about, whirling around the Mandalorian from where he stood. “Subject wanted alive or dead. Capture accepted. Extermination accepted. Body required. Damage control disabled.” This meant he had no limitations on his actions.
“Carbine. Check. WESTAR. Check. Kal. Check. Beskad. Check. Duraplast. Intact. Accessories. Accounted for.” Everything was systematic, by the books and standard. He did it no other way. This bolstered his productivity exponentially.
His armor was light, though made of fine Mandalorian material. It was Shocktrooper armor with a jetpack installed. It glistened against the several lights that brandished the streets above and below, carrying small reflections where the armor wasn’t dulled by use. Demagol Sento was considered an exceptional worker in his field. An uncounted mass of successful missions gave him a name that instilled fear in all those who knew of him, for failure was unheard of in his wake. A resolute temperament. An almost unparalleled physique. A sharp mind. Demogal was in his prime.
Upon arriving on Nar Shaddaa, Demagol found his place of duty to be just as repulsive as about any other planet he flew to for bounty. Criminals had a way of going to the same type of places. Run-down, gang-encompassed, murky cesspools of grotesque living standards. So typical that he would find himself here, even if the subject was worth her fair share of credits. He wasn’t one to complain, by why the fuck did they have to drag him here? “You’d think some of these criminals would live the high life..being worth so much.” It was almost a grumble, but was completely inaudible to anyone except Demagol because of the unrelenting winds that accompanied him. He found his comment to be ironic, considering where he was standing right now. While Rhailo was in holding, Demagol had been contacted to retrieve her for the S'zari syndicate. It was supposed to be an easy mission, one that he wouldn’t have to fret over using his weapons in. That of course was until the subject decided to escape from her holding. Because fuck you and your mission, that’s why. This led to Demagol having to personally track down the finer details on this Rhailo criminal. The ease of information on subjects tended to depend on the reward for their incapacitation. High rewards meant big crimes. Big crimes meant big ripples. People effected by such grew in number, and in slums like these, word carried quickly. These people were more than willing to give up information on the subject, Demagol didn’t even have to threaten them. He kind of wanted to. Mandalorians get what they want. But this female had evidently pissed off a multitude of people who were willing to say her whereabouts up to her very address. With that being said, it wasn’t difficult for Demagol to initially source track Rhailo’s movement. She moved without expertise. Linear, predictable, patterned.
This made her almost no fun to track thusfar. Demagol enjoyed a challenge. It was one of the only luxuries of his job. Certainly there is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never really care for anything else thereafter. He raised his lightly armored gauntlet up, visually inspecting that the compartments were ready for what was about to happen. He couldn’t afford any malfunctions, not that they ever happened anyways. You can never be too careful! A deafening boom resonated from the sky above, a streak of yellowed lightning jolting across the atmosphere for a split second. Lovely, a storm was moving in. Maybe that was a good thing, it’d make the mission more interesting. Rain pocked and bounced off of his armor, which was primarily a metallic black and blue coloration. On his right shoulder he bore a crest, an insignia; a pair of red wings with a black sword and comet. The opposing shoulder harbored Mandalorian inscription, which translated to ‘I soar on wings of fire.’ Demagol was not often referred to by his first name, but by his reputation’s name, the Astral Phoenix. Phoenix, in short.
“Phoenix.”, the transmission cut into Demagol’s preparation unexpected and to his dislike, as he did not enjoy being interrupted. The voice belonged to a S'zari messenger.
“What do you want. I’m busy.” It was more of a demand than a question. Demagol hadn’t time for niceties.
“It’s information concerning the subject Rhailo Destros. She was last seen ent-” He was cut off by the Mandalorian. “District E. Apartment complex 2. 71st story.”
“And she is in r-” The cutoff repeated. “Room 15, primary hallway. I know. Go away. I have work to do.”
The transmission ended abruptly and Demagol’s HUD cleared up. The mandalorian carried quite an impressive armament about him which allowed him to be ready for just about any situation. From over his shoulder he drew a single shot plasma cannon, in which he now calibrated the shot’s strength. “You made this easy, living so far up.. I guess some people like being right underneath the roof.” The cannon charges and Demagol aims it downward, as he was standing directly on the roof of the building Rhailo Destros resided in. He had calculated everything. Where the building was. The floor. Where her room would be in relation to where he would have to place the blast. Even the placement of the room’s door. He also needed to make sure the blast wasn’t too strong to where it punched through more floors than necessary, such would throw a monkey wrench in the mandalorian’s plans. Demagol took pride in his work.
The smell that overtook Rhailo’s senses was that of superheated plasma concocting within the weapon system. The sound of buildup grew in loudness until finally the necessary ratio had been met and the release mechanism engaged. It fired downward and spread the superheated plasma along the roof’s surface, vaporizing the floor directly beneath the mandalorian’s feet. This sent him into a free fall to the female’s room. The sound was deafening and caused the building to slightly shake, especially as Demagol smashed down into the floor from above. Ironically, this was directly in the view of Rhailo, though he landed on the opposing side of the room.
As the dust and debris settled from the air Demagol emerged, removing a WESTAR-35 from its holster. He didn’t aim the weapon system at the female yet.
“Rhailo Destros.. The S'zari syndicate sends their greetings.” The mandalorian towered at 76 inches tall and looked at Rhailo from across the room. His presence was sudden and unforgiving.
“Subject of Interest.” The suit’s HUD responded in a computerized voice. “Rhailo Destros. Auroun. Age unknown. Physical characteristics: White hair, long. White eyes. White skin. Height approximately 66 inches. Weight–unknown. Wanted by S'zari syndicate, rewarding 50,000 credits for the following: Grand theft, payment avoidance, assault and battery, subterfuge, vandalism,–” He cut off the list, satisfied with the aforementioned reasons. In all honesty, he didn’t even need a reason to do the work he carried out. All he ever asked for was money, such was the circulation of life. As far as he was concerned, all was fair.
“Mission ROEs” (Rules Of Engagement) The same computerized voice sounded out again from inside of the visor. Wind billowed about, whirling around the Mandalorian from where he stood. “Subject wanted alive or dead. Capture accepted. Extermination accepted. Body required. Damage control disabled.” This meant he had no limitations on his actions.
“Carbine. Check. WESTAR. Check. Kal. Check. Beskad. Check. Duraplast. Intact. Accessories. Accounted for.” Everything was systematic, by the books and standard. He did it no other way. This bolstered his productivity exponentially.
His armor was light, though made of fine Mandalorian material. It was Shocktrooper armor with a jetpack installed. It glistened against the several lights that brandished the streets above and below, carrying small reflections where the armor wasn’t dulled by use. Demagol Sento was considered an exceptional worker in his field. An uncounted mass of successful missions gave him a name that instilled fear in all those who knew of him, for failure was unheard of in his wake. A resolute temperament. An almost unparalleled physique. A sharp mind. Demogal was in his prime.
Upon arriving on Nar Shaddaa, Demagol found his place of duty to be just as repulsive as about any other planet he flew to for bounty. Criminals had a way of going to the same type of places. Run-down, gang-encompassed, murky cesspools of grotesque living standards. So typical that he would find himself here, even if the subject was worth her fair share of credits. He wasn’t one to complain, by why the fuck did they have to drag him here? “You’d think some of these criminals would live the high life..being worth so much.” It was almost a grumble, but was completely inaudible to anyone except Demagol because of the unrelenting winds that accompanied him. He found his comment to be ironic, considering where he was standing right now. While Rhailo was in holding, Demagol had been contacted to retrieve her for the S'zari syndicate. It was supposed to be an easy mission, one that he wouldn’t have to fret over using his weapons in. That of course was until the subject decided to escape from her holding. Because fuck you and your mission, that’s why. This led to Demagol having to personally track down the finer details on this Rhailo criminal. The ease of information on subjects tended to depend on the reward for their incapacitation. High rewards meant big crimes. Big crimes meant big ripples. People effected by such grew in number, and in slums like these, word carried quickly. These people were more than willing to give up information on the subject, Demagol didn’t even have to threaten them. He kind of wanted to. Mandalorians get what they want. But this female had evidently pissed off a multitude of people who were willing to say her whereabouts up to her very address. With that being said, it wasn’t difficult for Demagol to initially source track Rhailo’s movement. She moved without expertise. Linear, predictable, patterned.
This made her almost no fun to track thusfar. Demagol enjoyed a challenge. It was one of the only luxuries of his job. Certainly there is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never really care for anything else thereafter. He raised his lightly armored gauntlet up, visually inspecting that the compartments were ready for what was about to happen. He couldn’t afford any malfunctions, not that they ever happened anyways. You can never be too careful! A deafening boom resonated from the sky above, a streak of yellowed lightning jolting across the atmosphere for a split second. Lovely, a storm was moving in. Maybe that was a good thing, it’d make the mission more interesting. Rain pocked and bounced off of his armor, which was primarily a metallic black and blue coloration. On his right shoulder he bore a crest, an insignia; a pair of red wings with a black sword and comet. The opposing shoulder harbored Mandalorian inscription, which translated to ‘I soar on wings of fire.’ Demagol was not often referred to by his first name, but by his reputation’s name, the Astral Phoenix. Phoenix, in short.
“Phoenix.”, the transmission cut into Demagol’s preparation unexpected and to his dislike, as he did not enjoy being interrupted. The voice belonged to a S'zari messenger.
“What do you want. I’m busy.” It was more of a demand than a question. Demagol hadn’t time for niceties.
“It’s information concerning the subject Rhailo Destros. She was last seen ent-” He was cut off by the Mandalorian. “District E. Apartment complex 2. 71st story.”
“And she is in r-” The cutoff repeated. “Room 15, primary hallway. I know. Go away. I have work to do.”
The transmission ended abruptly and Demagol’s HUD cleared up. The mandalorian carried quite an impressive armament about him which allowed him to be ready for just about any situation. From over his shoulder he drew a single shot plasma cannon, in which he now calibrated the shot’s strength. “You made this easy, living so far up.. I guess some people like being right underneath the roof.” The cannon charges and Demagol aims it downward, as he was standing directly on the roof of the building Rhailo Destros resided in. He had calculated everything. Where the building was. The floor. Where her room would be in relation to where he would have to place the blast. Even the placement of the room’s door. He also needed to make sure the blast wasn’t too strong to where it punched through more floors than necessary, such would throw a monkey wrench in the mandalorian’s plans. Demagol took pride in his work.
The smell that overtook Rhailo’s senses was that of superheated plasma concocting within the weapon system. The sound of buildup grew in loudness until finally the necessary ratio had been met and the release mechanism engaged. It fired downward and spread the superheated plasma along the roof’s surface, vaporizing the floor directly beneath the mandalorian’s feet. This sent him into a free fall to the female’s room. The sound was deafening and caused the building to slightly shake, especially as Demagol smashed down into the floor from above. Ironically, this was directly in the view of Rhailo, though he landed on the opposing side of the room.
As the dust and debris settled from the air Demagol emerged, removing a WESTAR-35 from its holster. He didn’t aim the weapon system at the female yet.
“Rhailo Destros.. The S'zari syndicate sends their greetings.” The mandalorian towered at 76 inches tall and looked at Rhailo from across the room. His presence was sudden and unforgiving.
Forever?
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
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Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:27 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:30 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:38 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:40 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:41 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:42 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:44 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:46 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:47 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:49 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:50 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:52 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:52 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:54 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:55 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:56 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:58 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:59 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:00 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:01 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:02 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:04 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:05 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:07 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:07 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:09 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:10 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:13 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:13 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:15 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:17 AM