Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Days gone by

Tatooine, Mos Espa

Montag Card, former Master Sergeant Phantom Corps CIS, and for a brief few weeks the CIS Minister of Foreign Affairs. Then it'd started. The panic attacks. Those horrible fucking flashbacks he thought he'd put behind him. He attacked an intern for reaching to grab something from his desk, HighCom put him on a temporary leave of absence for psychiatric evaluation.

Card assaulted the psychiatrist, before leaving Bothuwai on a hurry. He left behind all holo phones, anything that could be used to find him, and had spent the last few months roaming around the outer rim, using his honed special operation skills in less than honorable ways.

The voices had started again.

Telling him to do things or not. Crazy things. Insane things. Montag knew it was probably a mixed bag or genes and how many traumatic head injuries he'd endured over the course of his career. He'd seen many of his fellow comrades go a similar route over the course of his service.

When you did what he did long enough something like what he was going through was almost an inevitably, an occupational hazard of sorts.

The junked up speeder he'd stole plodded along, he was hunting. Looking for a target.

He found one.

Mos Espa Regional Bank.

Card parked the junker and double checked his .45 slugthrower's load, and triple checked his assualt rifle's magazine. Places on Tatooine typically had armed security, Montag would probably have to kill a few people.

Violence of action. Speed. Intensity.

Do it.

Do it.

DO IT.

Montag angrily exited the speeder and brought his rifle to his front, moving quickly through the open doors and firing three quick rounds into the security guard directly at his twelve. Another tried to draw on his three. He received four rounds. To those who'd knew him in his previous life Montag doubted they'd recognize him. He wore a CIS Army Fatigue Jacket, goggles, quite a bit of scruff, and sported a Mohawk to boot.

The former soldier burst behind the checkers counter, demanding money and shooting a clerk in the process. One of the more composed clerks, a Bothan, obeyed his demands and filled up a few bags with credits from the various registers. Montag took the bags and nearly leapt out the door and into his speeder. Turning the ignition and speeding off moments before a few MEPD showed up on the scene.

Montag ditched the speeder, hid the money near a spaceport, put on a hat, and changed his clothes and glasses. To most he'd appear a local contractor or merc, not the guy who'd just robbed the local bank.

That was living.

What the voices wanted.

That sweet rush of adrenaline. Alive. Montag pocketed a few bills and kept his rifle and handgun handy, before wandering into a cantina and taking a seat in the back. Allowing the adrenaline to ease off as he downed a beer.
 

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