The Major
M E M O R Y
Dosuun,
Avalonia,
Victory Park,
Primeday, 1404 hours,
A luxurious office overlooking the city...
Quite the vista was to be had upon the busy city below from this vantage high up above the beleaguered streets. Floor to ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the chaotic yet ordered mire for the uninitiated. For someone as remarkable as Bureau Chief Juel Ennike such a view was little more than a self reflective symbol of status, and an unremarkable feather to a frankly historic career. He stood now, arms crossed behind his back in the statuesque pose of imperial might, peering with an indiscernible type of yearning as he stared to the Capitol Complex. As a long acting student in the game of spycraft in faithful service to the First Order, Juel was no stranger to the hidden chambers and unmarked passages kept from public, and indeed most types, of scrutiny. He had enjoyed many a successful year -as proven by his various plaques and medals of service arrayed for various joint operations.
Despite all of this; despite all of his accrued wealth and the comfortable position so generously bestowed upon his honor he had made the critical and continual error of most of humankind. Juel had given in to the warping temptation known as ambition. Usually, ambition within the confines of this authoritarian type of society painted in rigorous hues was to be lauded.
In this case, while the man peered endlessly into the splendor of the capitol -mulling over fantasies of success and opportunity- he had allowed his overconfidence to take its toll on preparations. Alibis were established. Informants bribed. Devices planted. And top credit was spent to train and hone the shot of the hunter. A day ago the acting minister of security, [member="Dante Calgar"], should have been killed well by such an expertly placed shot while on routine inspection of the government facility. Normally such an assignment would be suicide for the hunter, but Juel figured the expiration of any individual bereft of morals would only add to the quality of the galaxy -not lessen it. No news had been produced upon the ghastly matter of the minister’s unfortunate demise. To be expected: failure was always something accounted for. Still, the Bureau Chief could not help but shake the revolting sensation that ill omens were spreading out in the milling byways below his stern gaze.
He played the right game, but he made too many ripples along the way. Ripples of the kind that attracted the very worst kind of attention. Ripples of the sort that a certain agent was hungry to exploit. All for nought. His work would be for nought.
They burst in with the rapturious fury of a strike team. In the lead was the Major: tall, haughty, proud, and grinning viciously as her boot crushed away the Dosuun pine of quality construction in vigor. Dressed as always as though she rifted just at that moment from another reality, her long coat tails jumped about in frenetic energy. True confidence adorned this rite of passage -this moment of vindication. To her left flank marched in a Deathtrooper, clad in terror after the visage glistening black, to her right a high ranking police officer bereft on any sort of compassion. The pair on either side drew their arms of battle and levied them upon the man standing stupefied against the heavy window. The woman dug her hands into her pockets, continuing to stare at her target with eyes burning in gleeful malice incomprehensible.
“Goooooooooooooooood day, Chief Ennike!” A dandy bow ensued, teeth nigh grinding together in giddy anticipation for the proceedings.
The now sequestered Chief only showed fear for the briefest of moments before steely resolve and calm dignity enabled him to smile at the last human face he would see. While he did not know the pleasure of company amidst this tooth bearing fanatic there were a enough rumors circulating to piece together the next likely chain of events. If SHE was involved, guilt or innocence would be irrelevant. Evidence would be produced regardless. Resigned now to fate, he sat down and began to peer upon the picture of his wife and children -luxuries only recently taken now that his current posting offered him the security and stability of desk duty. Juel managed to slowly place his hands palm down upon the ancient oak surface. While he had determined not to give a single centimeter of reason for what was to come, his palms were sweating in wet beads that moistened the desk beneath them.
“Alas! So eloquent in life -now bereft of speech.” As the Major removed her hands to make a proacted show of shrugging at his silence, the Chief noted that those hands were now clad in a pair of surgical white gloves. The sight of this caused his throat to immediately dry up.
“Suit yourself…” She began to walk over to his side of the room, rounding about the desk deliberately. From the corner of his eye he could spot that the Deathtrooper bristled and readied to fire at any sudden movement.
“Why not procure yourself more time? Confess.” The four eyed agent, now radiating the wild energy of a psychopath, stood behind him.
The Major stood up straight now, her grisly business of the hour conducted. She breathed a sigh of relief and began to wipe the blood that had sprinkled and winked against her rather lovely face. Each degenerate silenced seemed to provide a compounding happiness: a joy of being one step to a clean and concise Security Bureau.
::What now, Station Chief?:: Warbled the Deathtrooper, dropping his stance now that the meeting went successfully. It was a strange day for him, but it was different at least. He tried to hide the edge of expectant curiority from his question as to not sound too eager but he could not help but find this operation leader’s demeanor to be infectious. Meanwhile, the officer prepared to call in the various corpse removal services that such municipalities often kept on retainer.
A bemused smirk now splayed across the Major’s face, and she said: “Let’s go visit [member="Emilia Ravel"] now.”
Avalonia,
Victory Park,
Primeday, 1404 hours,
A luxurious office overlooking the city...
Quite the vista was to be had upon the busy city below from this vantage high up above the beleaguered streets. Floor to ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the chaotic yet ordered mire for the uninitiated. For someone as remarkable as Bureau Chief Juel Ennike such a view was little more than a self reflective symbol of status, and an unremarkable feather to a frankly historic career. He stood now, arms crossed behind his back in the statuesque pose of imperial might, peering with an indiscernible type of yearning as he stared to the Capitol Complex. As a long acting student in the game of spycraft in faithful service to the First Order, Juel was no stranger to the hidden chambers and unmarked passages kept from public, and indeed most types, of scrutiny. He had enjoyed many a successful year -as proven by his various plaques and medals of service arrayed for various joint operations.
Despite all of this; despite all of his accrued wealth and the comfortable position so generously bestowed upon his honor he had made the critical and continual error of most of humankind. Juel had given in to the warping temptation known as ambition. Usually, ambition within the confines of this authoritarian type of society painted in rigorous hues was to be lauded.
In this case, while the man peered endlessly into the splendor of the capitol -mulling over fantasies of success and opportunity- he had allowed his overconfidence to take its toll on preparations. Alibis were established. Informants bribed. Devices planted. And top credit was spent to train and hone the shot of the hunter. A day ago the acting minister of security, [member="Dante Calgar"], should have been killed well by such an expertly placed shot while on routine inspection of the government facility. Normally such an assignment would be suicide for the hunter, but Juel figured the expiration of any individual bereft of morals would only add to the quality of the galaxy -not lessen it. No news had been produced upon the ghastly matter of the minister’s unfortunate demise. To be expected: failure was always something accounted for. Still, the Bureau Chief could not help but shake the revolting sensation that ill omens were spreading out in the milling byways below his stern gaze.
He played the right game, but he made too many ripples along the way. Ripples of the kind that attracted the very worst kind of attention. Ripples of the sort that a certain agent was hungry to exploit. All for nought. His work would be for nought.
They burst in with the rapturious fury of a strike team. In the lead was the Major: tall, haughty, proud, and grinning viciously as her boot crushed away the Dosuun pine of quality construction in vigor. Dressed as always as though she rifted just at that moment from another reality, her long coat tails jumped about in frenetic energy. True confidence adorned this rite of passage -this moment of vindication. To her left flank marched in a Deathtrooper, clad in terror after the visage glistening black, to her right a high ranking police officer bereft on any sort of compassion. The pair on either side drew their arms of battle and levied them upon the man standing stupefied against the heavy window. The woman dug her hands into her pockets, continuing to stare at her target with eyes burning in gleeful malice incomprehensible.
“Goooooooooooooooood day, Chief Ennike!” A dandy bow ensued, teeth nigh grinding together in giddy anticipation for the proceedings.
The now sequestered Chief only showed fear for the briefest of moments before steely resolve and calm dignity enabled him to smile at the last human face he would see. While he did not know the pleasure of company amidst this tooth bearing fanatic there were a enough rumors circulating to piece together the next likely chain of events. If SHE was involved, guilt or innocence would be irrelevant. Evidence would be produced regardless. Resigned now to fate, he sat down and began to peer upon the picture of his wife and children -luxuries only recently taken now that his current posting offered him the security and stability of desk duty. Juel managed to slowly place his hands palm down upon the ancient oak surface. While he had determined not to give a single centimeter of reason for what was to come, his palms were sweating in wet beads that moistened the desk beneath them.
“Alas! So eloquent in life -now bereft of speech.” As the Major removed her hands to make a proacted show of shrugging at his silence, the Chief noted that those hands were now clad in a pair of surgical white gloves. The sight of this caused his throat to immediately dry up.
“Suit yourself…” She began to walk over to his side of the room, rounding about the desk deliberately. From the corner of his eye he could spot that the Deathtrooper bristled and readied to fire at any sudden movement.
“Why not procure yourself more time? Confess.” The four eyed agent, now radiating the wild energy of a psychopath, stood behind him.
…He thought on life.
“Confess!”
...He pondered death.
“Oh well.”
A scraping sound came from somewhere behind him…
A whisper most foul froze his blood. It slicked as cold as ice against his left ear.
“Goodbye, Traitor.”
He noted that the officer turned his head to look away. The trooper was steady on.
And so the dagger came -harsh and fast upon his throat. Once. Twice. Thrice. Again.
Once more! Reprise! Flourish! One-two-three! One-two-three…
The Major stood up straight now, her grisly business of the hour conducted. She breathed a sigh of relief and began to wipe the blood that had sprinkled and winked against her rather lovely face. Each degenerate silenced seemed to provide a compounding happiness: a joy of being one step to a clean and concise Security Bureau.
::What now, Station Chief?:: Warbled the Deathtrooper, dropping his stance now that the meeting went successfully. It was a strange day for him, but it was different at least. He tried to hide the edge of expectant curiority from his question as to not sound too eager but he could not help but find this operation leader’s demeanor to be infectious. Meanwhile, the officer prepared to call in the various corpse removal services that such municipalities often kept on retainer.
A bemused smirk now splayed across the Major’s face, and she said: “Let’s go visit [member="Emilia Ravel"] now.”
https://youtu.be/sCuCaklQ8UE
[member="Kuril Vehn"] | [member="Ezra Klev"] | [member="Jude Falkrowe"] | [member="Thiosimre"] | [member="Ignatius Rausgeber"]
rink::>