Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Black Skies on the Horizon.

Tobias Wrynn

Guest
T
Port Pixelito, 25:50 Local Time.

Red, crystalline blips dotted the active map in his HUD as Wrynn skimmed thoughtfully over the rooftops. "Heavily guarded sector," he grunted in a low voice. It was easy enough to traverse the civilian quarter on Malastare without question, but the corporate and militarized areas doubled their security after dark. High humidity this close to the equator made the air stickier than the Merc cared for, but he did not voice his discomfort. There were worse things in the galaxy. Like getting picked out by a scout, for instance.

He was more cautious than most people in his position, granted. Wrynn had the uncanny ability to observe from further away, which allowed him to move around outside the yellow areas and avoid detection until it was time to move. The woman he had been paired with was a Mandalorian, if her surname was any indicator. She wore stranger beskar'gam than he'd ever seen, but he was no expert on the culture. It wasn't her job to be a fashion model for the galaxy's more brutish culture, but to slice terminals and gain access to the network. That was what they told him before the briefing, at least.

Wrynn was in charge of any and all hostilities- which seemed strange, considering the woman's heritage- but he wasn't going to make a fuss about it. Reconnaissance, elimination of targets, and covert operations were his specialty after all. This was why they wired the credits and said no questions asked. "The buyer mentioned that the compound in question was an archive," he spoke in a mechanical voice, skewed by his helmet. He half turned to glance back at Leoria as if unsure whether or not she was listening. "Down and under the main facility. The only route to the sublevel is via elevator in the back of the building. I have readouts on the building's blueprints uploaded, sharing now."

The file appeared on the sublevel of his HUD and secure transfer linked up to her transceiver. The words "message sent" popped up, blinked several times, then faded. "I've highlighted bogeys for you, so be sure you avoid them. If you're caught, I'm leaving you."

It was the way of things with mercenaries in this cold galaxy. There was a code of honor, and there was some sense of camaraderie, but when it came to the mission it was important that things were done to the letter. "I'll take out the rooftop guards so you can slice the door and get us in. Don't advance until my mark."

He unslung his rifle and knelt down. It would take a minute to prep for the first shot. After that, things would start falling into place.

[member="Leoria Beviin"]
 
It had been a quiet journey, which worked to both soothe and unnerve Leoria all at once. In the silence that filled the small space and consumed them both, she was able to reflect on the sequence of events that had led her to the present. The initial exchange on the outskirts of the city had been typical enough, with a potential client pitching his case, and citing large sums of credits for her troubles. It had been his insistence that the job move off-planet that had made the meeting unlike any the woman had had prior. Initially, Leoria had balked at his request, unable to justify the risk, and the enormous variation from her usual routine of small, local jobs. The man had raised his reward two separate times, each to the continued refusal of the Mandalorian. It was not until he had challenged her very being that her determination wavered. "I'm sure I can find a more capable slicer elsewhere," the man with the dark coat and darker eyes had finally concluded with a heavy sigh and a mocking half-shrug. And that had been enough.

But the silence, growing heavier as time passed, also invited Leoria to consider her next steps. And that, the woman quickly learned, left her feeling like she could not draw enough hot, humid air into her lungs. This was, without a doubt, the biggest job that she had ever volunteered herself for. Growing the business, her mind rationalized, but only weakly. The closer the pair drew to their destination, the harder her heart thudded beneath her armor.

Briefly, the emerald-eyed woman had considered easing her nerves by chatting with her newly assigned partner. On multiple occasions, she had felt his gaze on her as she, in turn, gazed out the wide window. At the risk of appearing conceited, Leoria was accustomed to attracting stares. Her unusual height, her unique beskar'gam, and her family lineage all ushered curiosity from those who did and did not know her. But when she had finally turned back to the man, his attention had returned to piloting the craft. She knew nothing about him, not his age, nor his race - the pair had already been in armor upon their first meeting. But she knew his name. The man who had offered her the job had given her that much, and her more professional nature knew that, for the moment, that would suffice.

Wrynn spoke - we're here, came the strangled thought - and Leoria nodded. Her HUD came alive with his freshly-transmitted data, and she opted to study it intently, rather than pay much attention to the man's warning. Or was it a veiled threat? "Understood," she replied simply, the voice that emerged as alien as the situation she found herself in. The lights flashed across her display, impossible in their numbers and close proximity to one another. Crap, was the single thought that consumed her mind. Crap, crap, crap.

The craft landed, kissing the solid ground without fanfare, precisely as the pilot had intended it. Wrynn moved to prepare his first shot, signaling Leoria to also take her place. His first shot would down the nearest guard, allowing her the necessary time to slip out the hatch and make a break for cover. Or, at least, that was how they had choreographed it.

"Ready," she confirmed, though she was far from it.

[member="Tobias Wrynn"]
 

Tobias Wrynn

Guest
T
The first shot was already lined up by the time she indicated her status. Wrynn stared down the sight and watched in slow motion as his target's chest rose and fell. "Good," he replied. He took a long breath, assured that the weapon was primed for a quieter, albeit less powerful shot, and assessed the target. He wasn't heavily armored, since they weren't expecting a massive invasion force, so it wouldn't take much to get the shot off. He saw the man yawn, turn, and start to light a cigarette and for a moment Tobias considered allowing the man to finish his final indulgence before he took his life.

Wrynn decided not to be that kind.

He slowly pulled the trigger, and the subdued outcry of the SR-387 came just before the man fell flat on his face. Blood drooled out from the entry wound and exit, whereupon it pooled around the body excessively. Wrynn had already moved his weapon toward the next target. They were several yards apart, and separated by structures that made this effort possible. It was solely because the second target could not see the first that the alarm had yet to raise.

The merc took a moment to compose himself, then stole a ragged breath. Two for one shots like this nagged at his conscience. Killing a man was never an easy thing, and Wrynn never got any better at it. On the flip side, he never got any worse. There was something to be said for that. "Alright, you're clear in five," he counted, "four, three, two."

With another shrill burst, the rifle reaped another life. Writhing on the ground in spasmodic glory, the corpse stared skyward and enjoyed the stars as light left its eyes. "Mark," Wrynn rasped through the comm, then slowly shouldered his weapon. "Let me know when the job's done," he told her as his HUD scanned the nearby buildings for scouts. It wouldn't do to take those two shots, then get caught by spotters. He flipped the activation switch for his jetpack and the motor began to hum low.

Hopefully, the girl knew something about being discreet.

[member="Leoria Beviin"]
 

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