[font=arial" size="1] “Suit, calculate distances, mark trails, predict paths.” A complicated situation it seemed, but this wasn’t the first time someone had attempted to thwart the relentless bounty hunter. The words the woman had spoken went in one of Demagol’s ears and out the other. He didn’t attempt to break them down, nor did he have any sort of reaction for them. Demagol’s system readings flushed over, thermal scans lighting up with unique trails belonging to the woman and her clones. As figured, they were all going in directions that would force the Mandalorian to commit to one or two quickly, while leaving the third with some time to get away. One of the paths appeared to go back through the dismantled buildings that Demagol had pursued through. While this seemed odd at first, the intentions were perceptually predictable. Valuables. While Demagol had made a mess in the female’s room, he hadn’t completely destroyed it. That isn’t to say he left the room without his presence before he left. In his eyes, homes weren’t safe havens, they were traps. With that being said, the Mandalorian honed his sights on the alternative duo that were fleeing.
“Soar.” That familiar command. Demagol had already considered the speed difference in which he would catch up to the two he had in question now. The one with the removed top would attempt to use the crowd of people to her advantage. It would slow him down inevitably, even if damage control wasn’t in effect at the moment. The other, which appeared to maneuver left and backtrack the area seemed like a quicker option. The way Demagol saw it, the faster he caught one, the faster he was either correct in his choosing, or able to move onto the next. As he erupted upwards into the sky and twisted himself he reached out his left arm, craning it straight in the direction of one of the buildings the first subject was in line of.
“Lunge.” He would need to be quick, as his suit’s capabilities were top-notch, they were not without their own boundaries. The thermal readings were exact and without error, but they could not last forever, nor go for an endless distance. A grappling hook fired out of a notch on Demagol’s bracer, exceptionally hooking on the top skirting of the building in question. Once the hook is locked in place Demagol removes the slack hastily, sling-shoting himself through the air considerably faster than if he was only going to use his jetpack. This way also conserved fuel, which Demagol was also not limitless with. By using this technique, the Mandalorian could move throughout the city without fatiguing himself, as the grappling hook’s workings would not tire, and the momentum belonged only to physics. Distance would be closed faster than expected–again, but at this rate, Demagol could not afford to waste time.
The grappling hook fired again and again, each time bringing Demagol closer to his objective; the first subject. Already was she in his sights, which honed in with expertise. Every detail was being calculated. The way she moved. Reacted. Her pattern of movement and predicted path. Her final destination was still a mystery to Demagol, but at the same time that didn’t matter at this point, she wouldn’t make it there anyway.
Once Demagol felt he was within a suitable distance from this first subject he altered his movement technique again. His grappling hook retracted and a short burst from his jetpack stopped him from landing on the ground too hard, though his suit was built to withstand shock. Upon landing his boots skid across the wet surface of the ground, but not long before momentum was given again. This time it was manual as Demagol’s jetpack fired up at his back, propelling him forward as he jetted across the ground like a racer. Showmanship was everything, right?
To any unlucky being who was between the Mandalorian and his prey at this point there were only two outcomes, brutal trauma or even death. Demagol stopped at nothing to close the distance between himself and the subject breaking through small, fragile shacks and bowling people over into heaps of pain and agony. Their screams weren’t music to his ears, they were just sounds that blended in with everything else audible around him. No, the noises he aimed to make overt were the Auroun’s. It would be silly to assume that Demagol did this silently whilst he crashed through the street. But was speed was stealth, and he would be upon the female before she was prepared for his arrival to begin with. Maybe he would do the same to her as he did to the Bith? No, it was too risky. He wanted her alive. To kill her would cease all of the fun immediately. He could let loose, but not all the way.
“Arm dart assembly. Predict path of travel. Fire.” The Mandalorian’s bracer rotated over, placing his grappling hook assembly on the bottom side of his forearm and the new one in question on top. Notches shifted in his armor, his visor’s HUD working together with a targeting system while the darts were being armed. Everything was coordinated. Target. Trajectory. Time of trajectory. Wind speed. Wind alteration. Shot adjustment. Nothing fell short in preparation.
Demagol was within 50 meters of the first clone, and as the dart shot out of his bracer it wasn’t guided by just velocity in itself. It was uplinked with the female’s signature, which meant that it would follow her in the same way a heat-seeking missile would fly toward an aircraft. Eventual impact was unavoidable, especially as the two came into a clearing ever-so conveniently when the dart was fired. Additionally, it was even more difficult for the female to make a narrow escape because of her limited ability of perception.
The first dart found its mark, burying itself directly into the lower back of the female. Immediately two more darts are fired from Demagol’s assembly, both of which close in upon the female in similar fashions. While the Mandalorian races forward his suit’s visor picked up the impact of the other two darts. One of them had found its place in the back of the female’s neck, whereas the other ended its trail in a location Demagol swears was not intentional, not even a little bit, her right asscheek.
The way Demagol’s dart assembly worked was like a catalyst combination. The first dart was geared with a powerful tranquilizer in which could take down even the largest of beasts within five seconds of impact and injection. The second was geared with a powerful muscle and nerve toxin, which spread paralysis in the victim’s body to anywhere blood flowed. The third possessed a more refined version of signature discrimination, down to the very buildup of atoms.
By the time Demagol’s systems picked up the path of toxins spreading throughout the female’s body he was already upon her. Now would be the time in which he figured out what his first choice was; original or copy. The findings would be inevitable, as the dart’s form of discrimination was without error. Even the most minute difference between original and clone would be picked up.
“Soar.” That familiar command. Demagol had already considered the speed difference in which he would catch up to the two he had in question now. The one with the removed top would attempt to use the crowd of people to her advantage. It would slow him down inevitably, even if damage control wasn’t in effect at the moment. The other, which appeared to maneuver left and backtrack the area seemed like a quicker option. The way Demagol saw it, the faster he caught one, the faster he was either correct in his choosing, or able to move onto the next. As he erupted upwards into the sky and twisted himself he reached out his left arm, craning it straight in the direction of one of the buildings the first subject was in line of.
“Lunge.” He would need to be quick, as his suit’s capabilities were top-notch, they were not without their own boundaries. The thermal readings were exact and without error, but they could not last forever, nor go for an endless distance. A grappling hook fired out of a notch on Demagol’s bracer, exceptionally hooking on the top skirting of the building in question. Once the hook is locked in place Demagol removes the slack hastily, sling-shoting himself through the air considerably faster than if he was only going to use his jetpack. This way also conserved fuel, which Demagol was also not limitless with. By using this technique, the Mandalorian could move throughout the city without fatiguing himself, as the grappling hook’s workings would not tire, and the momentum belonged only to physics. Distance would be closed faster than expected–again, but at this rate, Demagol could not afford to waste time.
The grappling hook fired again and again, each time bringing Demagol closer to his objective; the first subject. Already was she in his sights, which honed in with expertise. Every detail was being calculated. The way she moved. Reacted. Her pattern of movement and predicted path. Her final destination was still a mystery to Demagol, but at the same time that didn’t matter at this point, she wouldn’t make it there anyway.
Once Demagol felt he was within a suitable distance from this first subject he altered his movement technique again. His grappling hook retracted and a short burst from his jetpack stopped him from landing on the ground too hard, though his suit was built to withstand shock. Upon landing his boots skid across the wet surface of the ground, but not long before momentum was given again. This time it was manual as Demagol’s jetpack fired up at his back, propelling him forward as he jetted across the ground like a racer. Showmanship was everything, right?
To any unlucky being who was between the Mandalorian and his prey at this point there were only two outcomes, brutal trauma or even death. Demagol stopped at nothing to close the distance between himself and the subject breaking through small, fragile shacks and bowling people over into heaps of pain and agony. Their screams weren’t music to his ears, they were just sounds that blended in with everything else audible around him. No, the noises he aimed to make overt were the Auroun’s. It would be silly to assume that Demagol did this silently whilst he crashed through the street. But was speed was stealth, and he would be upon the female before she was prepared for his arrival to begin with. Maybe he would do the same to her as he did to the Bith? No, it was too risky. He wanted her alive. To kill her would cease all of the fun immediately. He could let loose, but not all the way.
“Arm dart assembly. Predict path of travel. Fire.” The Mandalorian’s bracer rotated over, placing his grappling hook assembly on the bottom side of his forearm and the new one in question on top. Notches shifted in his armor, his visor’s HUD working together with a targeting system while the darts were being armed. Everything was coordinated. Target. Trajectory. Time of trajectory. Wind speed. Wind alteration. Shot adjustment. Nothing fell short in preparation.
Demagol was within 50 meters of the first clone, and as the dart shot out of his bracer it wasn’t guided by just velocity in itself. It was uplinked with the female’s signature, which meant that it would follow her in the same way a heat-seeking missile would fly toward an aircraft. Eventual impact was unavoidable, especially as the two came into a clearing ever-so conveniently when the dart was fired. Additionally, it was even more difficult for the female to make a narrow escape because of her limited ability of perception.
The first dart found its mark, burying itself directly into the lower back of the female. Immediately two more darts are fired from Demagol’s assembly, both of which close in upon the female in similar fashions. While the Mandalorian races forward his suit’s visor picked up the impact of the other two darts. One of them had found its place in the back of the female’s neck, whereas the other ended its trail in a location Demagol swears was not intentional, not even a little bit, her right asscheek.
The way Demagol’s dart assembly worked was like a catalyst combination. The first dart was geared with a powerful tranquilizer in which could take down even the largest of beasts within five seconds of impact and injection. The second was geared with a powerful muscle and nerve toxin, which spread paralysis in the victim’s body to anywhere blood flowed. The third possessed a more refined version of signature discrimination, down to the very buildup of atoms.
By the time Demagol’s systems picked up the path of toxins spreading throughout the female’s body he was already upon her. Now would be the time in which he figured out what his first choice was; original or copy. The findings would be inevitable, as the dart’s form of discrimination was without error. Even the most minute difference between original and clone would be picked up.
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