Coruscant, Underworld
Deep below the bright lights of Coruscant was a city shrouded in dark, where the sun never reached down. This was the world of Alev for years now, the field for his personal crusade against those that took his love away from one moment to another. In his small, scruffy apartment, consisting out of a single room with a few blankets on the floor, a set of armor and nothing else Alev rested, his body littered with cuts and injuries. They wouldn't stop him, not today and not tomorrow. His brown eyes fell on the photo in his hands a last time, as did a single tear.
Then the young man rose to his feet, reaching for the armor littered all over the floor. First the chest plate, then protectors for arms and legs. Cape, smoke grenades and his grappling hook followed. The last piece descended down on his head almost ceremonial, the helmet blocking out any resemblance to Alev. Blank was here now, and again he would take a few of coruscants worst scum with him.
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"Give me your money."
The voice of a thug echoed into his ears from right around the corner, followed by the pained grunt of woman and the sound of flesh dropping to the ground rather violently. His path was clear now. Without hesitation the man shrouded in his black armor began to move, ripping out a roughly sword long metal tube on his way from a half ruined building close by.
"Please, this is all I have. Please."
Blank arrived to see a woman on the ground, blood dripping down from her nose, while a thug stood above hear, the muscle packed figure aiming his blaster down on her. The sound of heavily boots stamping on the ground caught the thugs attention. He turned around, to see the black figure of Blank.
"Let her go."
His voice was obscured by the scrambler in his helmet, a low pitched and distorted sound blaring out the speakers. Yet the thug only shrugged when he noticed the figures weapon. He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like "Your funeral" before a single red bolt was fired, hitting Blank on the right side of his stomach. The armor offered some protection, but it still left a painful burn.
"Time to take the trash out."
The sound of his manipulated voice was overshadowed by the sound of a skull breaking under the weight of metal rod and the strength of an average human.
Deep below the bright lights of Coruscant was a city shrouded in dark, where the sun never reached down. This was the world of Alev for years now, the field for his personal crusade against those that took his love away from one moment to another. In his small, scruffy apartment, consisting out of a single room with a few blankets on the floor, a set of armor and nothing else Alev rested, his body littered with cuts and injuries. They wouldn't stop him, not today and not tomorrow. His brown eyes fell on the photo in his hands a last time, as did a single tear.
Then the young man rose to his feet, reaching for the armor littered all over the floor. First the chest plate, then protectors for arms and legs. Cape, smoke grenades and his grappling hook followed. The last piece descended down on his head almost ceremonial, the helmet blocking out any resemblance to Alev. Blank was here now, and again he would take a few of coruscants worst scum with him.
-----------------------------------------
"Give me your money."
The voice of a thug echoed into his ears from right around the corner, followed by the pained grunt of woman and the sound of flesh dropping to the ground rather violently. His path was clear now. Without hesitation the man shrouded in his black armor began to move, ripping out a roughly sword long metal tube on his way from a half ruined building close by.
"Please, this is all I have. Please."
Blank arrived to see a woman on the ground, blood dripping down from her nose, while a thug stood above hear, the muscle packed figure aiming his blaster down on her. The sound of heavily boots stamping on the ground caught the thugs attention. He turned around, to see the black figure of Blank.
"Let her go."
His voice was obscured by the scrambler in his helmet, a low pitched and distorted sound blaring out the speakers. Yet the thug only shrugged when he noticed the figures weapon. He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like "Your funeral" before a single red bolt was fired, hitting Blank on the right side of his stomach. The armor offered some protection, but it still left a painful burn.
"Time to take the trash out."
The sound of his manipulated voice was overshadowed by the sound of a skull breaking under the weight of metal rod and the strength of an average human.