Do Unto Others

[Malia Afredane]

They had just lifted off Serenno and Mal already regretted the job immediately. For starters, the woman wouldn't stop complaining and shrieking at the top of her lungs about the state of the ship she was being taken in. Apparently she had been told professional bodyguards were whisking her off to Coruscant at the behest of her beloved, for a tryst in the whirling capital. She expected a royal barge. She expected uniforms, she expected shiny amenties, in style.

While Mal and [member="Rusty"] had cleaned up, and shined the Wicked Grace, Lady Velam was still being taken on a cross galaxy trip in a relic that she felt should have been reconciled to a junk heap eons ago. They had been in her company less than an hour and Mal had shut the door on the cockpit to get some peace from the never ending protests. However, those doors were not sound proof.

"You expect me to sleep WHERE?!?" the high pitched wail echoed down the hall.

"Oh, Bogan, save me," Mal sighed as she rubbed her temples.

 

[Rusty]

Rusty chuckled.

"I told you we shouldn't take this job," he said, patting the Captain's arm from the copilot's seat.

Technically on a job like this, he should be keeping an eye on the passenger, but if she had hidden away any weapons, she had pockets in places he didn't want to think about. The fool of a woman had dressed for a date, not an interstellar trip. It wasn't a long one, all things considered, but he fervently hoped she would calm down. The Captain had enough problems on her hand, what with that malfunctioning diagnostic circuit in the hyperdrive. The hyperdrive itself was still sound; it wasn't due for maintenance for another six months at the earliest, and for once, the Captain had ponied up for the parts the ship called for, not what the budget could afford.

Unfortunately, the circuit insisted otherwise, and kept setting off the alert buzzer in the cockpit. After a while, they had muffled it with some cloth and maybe a little more tape than was necessary, strictly speaking.

"I'm still not sure it was necessary to throw her in the cargo hold. We've got a perfectly good spare cabin, and it's a lot easier to put her there than expending energy to keep the hold pressurized. That leaky seal is going to cost us a small fortune in the long run."

 

[Malia Afredane]

"I can't hear her in the cargo hold."

Mal smiled her very best fake smile at Rusty and then with her face falling back into contempt, she turned back to the panel, fiddling with things until she managed to turn the alarm bell off. The light still blinked angrily at her, but at least she was not being driven insane by the droning screech of the ship's warning system. She piloted them out away from orbit and swiveled in the chair to get the coordinates from the NAV computer.

"We'll be ready to jump to hyperspace soon, would you go tell her worshipfulness she's gonna have to sit down and strap in? If she bumps something or rips something because she's being prissy, I'm not paying for it."

 

[Rusty]

Rusty sighed, but he unbuckled his straps, flipped up his cowl, and went out to check on the passenger.

Lady Whatshername was standing tall and proud in the cargo hold. She was, if he was honest, attractive by human standards. High cheekbones, pale skin, bright green eyes and flaming red hair, and legs for days. Her attire looked expensive, though for the life of him he couldn't understand why anyone would pay that much for a little slip of shimmering red silk that just barely conformed to decency standards on civilized planets, but it wasn't his business to worry about the cost. No, his job was to make sure she didn't ruin it, or freeze to death, for that matter.

"Excuse me, miss, but we're about to hit hyperspace."

The bodyguard gestured towards the acceleration couch that had, rather expertly, in his opinion, been bolted to the floor. You wouldn't know it was a hasty install if you hadn't seen the place yesterday.

"What of it," she snapped. Despite her lovely appearance, the woman had a voice like nails on a chalkboard.

"I'd highly recommend strapping in," Rusty replied. "Our inertial dampers are well within the safety tolerances, but I suspect the transition will be rather more..." he searched for the right word, one that wouldn't cause the client to panic. "It will be more turbulent than what you'll find on most luxury craft."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but found no signs of defiance in Rusty's body language, only a grudging willingness to get the job done. She seemed to collapse in on herself as her anger fled in the face of his unyielding apathy.

"Thank you, Mr..."

"No mister, just Rusty," he supplied helpfully.

"Rusty. At least someone on this ship cares about professionalism."

His first instinct was to rise to the Captain's defense, but the bodyguard clamped down on it. The Captain needed help on a great many things, but defending herself from passive aggressive passengers and their petty insults wasn't one of them. The cargo hold itself was a testament to that.

"I would also recommend changing into something a little warmer, ma'am. Most cargo craft run several degrees cooler than passenger ships, and it wouldn't do for you to catch a chill."

She nodded, as if understanding, and began to slip the straps down over her shoulders, wriggling in such a way as to emphasize her curves under the dress.

"You uh, you may want to wait until after the jump," Rusty said, hastily. "Our clearance is only for a few minutes, and it'll be much easier to find something to wear once the ride smooths out."

Without waiting for a reply, he darted out of the cargo hold and back to the cockpit.

It wasn't that he had never seen a naked woman before, or even that he had never been had one attempt to seduce him. Rusty just didn't see the point in sticking around for what was ultimately a lost cause, and he knew the Captain wouldn't be pleased if he encouraged that sort of behavior.

 

[Malia Afredane]

The transition to hyperspace was never smooth, there was always the momentary pull as the hyperdrive took over from the sublight engines, but this time, as the 3-Z left normal space, she lurched a little violently before the stars trailed out in front of them and they made their first programmed jump. She grinned sheepishly at Rusty as he looked at her with those eerie silver orbs.

"Oops!"

She waved away his complaint with an eyeroll and checked back on the bug in the circuit.

"Everything looks normal. I suppose I should try to be more accommodating to our guest. Tell me again how much this job is paying?"

 

[Rusty]

"Not nearly enough," Rusty said.

The faint sounds of swearing managed to filter through the bulkheads from the cargo hold. The client was clearly not happy with the quality of the flight, and her screechy voice even managed to compete with the frantic buzzing of the diagnostic circuit.

"Before you ask, Captain, I'm not heading back there, not for a while. I'm not familiar with the customs of her homeworld, but the baring of secondary sexual anatomy to a stranger strikes me as odd. I think she might be a wee bit unhinged."

The bodyguard turned to the cockpit's wiring harness and expertly plucked out the wire that powered the alarm. It wouldn't do to leave it silenced permanently, but he feared more for the Captain's sanity than her safety at this point. Pots and kettles notwithstanding, she had a fearsome temper, and he wasn't keen on seeing it on this job.

 

[Malia Afredane]

"Secondary what?"

She rolled it around her mind a moment before she realized what he was referring to.

"OH, for the love of a..."

Mal headed off down to the cargo bay, apprehensive about not seeing something she clearly didn't want to see. She visibly relaxed as she noticed that she had changed out of the dress into something only slightly less revealing.

"Lady Velam, I did offer you one of the cabins for your own if you prefer."

"That is a closet with a cot in it. I refuse to be locked in a storage room while you have free reign over my private things."

Mal bit her tongue about her technically being locked in a storage room right now, but she gestured with an open palm towards the door.

"Perhaps you would be more comfortable at the table in the common area. I was about to make a pot of caf if you would like some."

Lady Velam eyed her suspiciously but rose, snatching her bag to her side at once, as if Mal would grab at it lecherously.

"I require cream, not milk and refined sugar, not that raw, dirty looking kind."

Mal gritted a smiled as the woman passed her. It was that point that Mal noticed the perfume Velam wore, the scent pungent enough to make Mal nauseous. She escorted her to the common area, and produced a new blanket from a footlocker, still in the packaging from the store. Velam tore into it and wrapped it around her still bare shoulders, watching the captain carefully as she readied the beverage. Soon the enchanting smells of refreshments permeated the ship. She placed cream and sugar before Velam on the table, and followed it with a clean but military surplus mug filled with caf.

"There you are, my Lady. If you would prefer, the open door across the way is to a cabin if you want to nap while we travel. It will be a little bit before we arrive. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, no, I'm sure you don't have anything to suit my tastes in your cooler. I will try to not touch anything if you can try to act like you know how to fly this thing."

Mal smiled and bowed to Lady Velam before turning on her heel and marching back to the cockpit, grumbling all the way.

 

[Rusty]

The cockpit smelled richly of caf by the time the Captain returned. Rusty took a perverse pleasure in selecting high quality beans for the Captain while letting the passengers, on those rare occasions they carried them, suck down the instant variety. She barely stepped through the door before he pressed a mug in her hands.

In some ways, he felt more like her butler than her bodyguard.

"Take it easy, Captain," he said. "She's a stone [bleep], but this is easy money. Hell, we might even have enough to take a vacation when we're done. I know you've been wanting to try Zeltros for a while now."

It was a brazen attempt at bribery, but Rusty had no shame. He recognized the warning signs of an impending explosion all too easily, and this was one passenger he couldn't let her punch. If it took turning a blind eye to a trip to a casino on a notorious pleasure planet, what of it? He could easily lock down the bank accounts to keep her from gambling away their savings, and it was a simple matter to confine her to one that wouldn't allow side bets that might cost them the ship. If enabling her was the price of getting the job done, then so be it.

 

[Malia Afredane]

The next few jumps were uneventful, as the woman decided to occupy herself with mindless games on a datapad. Mal announced their approach to Coruscant over the intercom so neither would have to risk a face to face interaction. When they set down on a landing pad a few clicks away from the governmental sector, it was absolutely no surprise that Lady Velam had changed back into the first outfit, and the throbbing in Mal's temple started all over again.

"My Lady, we have quite a bit of a walk according to these instructions, might I suggest that you put on a cloak over your dress?"

"No thank you." She replied, motioning to her baggage, for someone to bring it along.

"I will arrange for it to be delivered to your destination. Let's get you to your lover, shall we?"

Mal gritted her teeth again, her blasters in place, the duster over everything. She had even run a brush through the mess on her head and looked almost respectable.

The area they were instructed to land in was bad. Really bad. Like made Mal feel right at home, but as they walked through the seedy bars and casinos, the look of distress on Lady Velam's face became increasingly more panicked. Normally walking in front of an escort, Mal dropped back a pace or two to come beside Velam, her voice quiet but still audible over the din of the busy street.

"Pardon my question, Lady Velam, but you look upset. Is this not your normal routine?"

Velam stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, so suddenly Rusty nearly ran into her. She shook her head like a frightened child, tears spilling over her cheeks.

"No. None of this is usual. Lord Dragoon has sent for me before, but it's usually my ship. He's never asked for me to dress this way before."

"Lord. Dragoon." Karking great. She was the mistress of one of the most outspoken senators in the Galactic Republic. Mal felt a stone drop in her stomach as she looked up at Rusty.

"We've been set up."

 

[Rusty]

Rusty seemingly materialized out of the shadows. He had been following behind a little ways, discouraging undue attention. Nothing fatal, mind, but there were a few drunks who would have a hard time explaining some oddly placed knife wounds to the med center.

"Are we talking evening news set up, or Rimsham Valley set up?" he asked, wiping the blood off his blade on the jacket of a passerby. The terrified stranger looked like he wanted to say something, but the silver eyes staring out from under the hood quickly discouraged any attempts at protest. "I know this Dragoon guy likes to make nice for the cameras, but he's got a rough reputation behind the scenes. Could be he tries to take the Lady out if he twigs on to the situation."

He thought for a minute, trying to work through various outcomes. None of them looked pretty.

"Have we been paid yet?"

 

[Malia Afredane]

"Small retainer, rest upon arrival." She switched her attention back to Lady Velam who had gone pale at the mention of a set up. Lord Dragoon was indeed powerful. And married to an equally powerful woman from Kuat. They were not the kind of people you crossed. Mal slid her duster off and held it out for Lady Velam who happily slipped it on without complaint. Mal motioned for them to continue walking, and guided them into a shopping complex that was more sheltered than the open street and connected to the next block over where they were headed anyway. There was a small corridor leading to the storeroom space between two stores. She pulled Lady Velam into the hall way with Rusty blocking off the opening so that observers couldn't see what was being discussed.

"The job was posted open, this wasn't a request to us so we aren't the targets. But I'm betting that if we just call off and turn around, there will be a nasty surprise at the landing pad." She turned her attention back to Velam. "Tell me everything about your relationship with Dragoon."

About five minutes later, Mal wanted to beat her head against the wall until it ran red and she couldn't think about the idle pursuits of the super rich. In every meetup, every tryst, Dragoon called himself and planned a meeting someplace very private. Velam always arranged her own travel, and never ever was it with a pair of freelancers. This time, he had called but they agreed to meet the following week. A couple days later, someone claiming to be from his office called and changed the time and place. Mal rolled her eyes so hard, she was sure the rattle was audible.

"I'd bet Gracie Dragoon doesn't know you're here. Someone is after him through you. And we're caught in the damn middle."

Velam burst into tears and grabbed Rusty, sobbing into his cloak, as Mal looked up at him with an arched eyebrow.

"Suggustions?"

 

[Rusty]

Somehow, Rusty didn't think the Captain would be too thrilled with the idea of slitting her throat and dumping her body in the sewers. She frowned on that sort of thing, which is why he was always careful to make sure she didn't find out. It wasn't that she had a problem killing if necessary, but her idea of necessary was a bit different from her bodyguard's.

"A couple," he said grimly. The sobbing woman was a bit disconcerting. He tried to pat her on the back to calm her down, something he had seen mothers do with screaming children. Somehow that only made it worse; the client wrapped around him even more tightly, and the sobbing intensified.

"We can always take a chance that Dragoon will be understanding. I'm sure she's got a private comm code we can use to get ahold of him. We can go to ground and make contact, see how he wants to handle it. If we handle it right, we can avoid embarrassment. We went through the syndicate on this one, which means the rest of the funds are probably in escrow. They don't care about the spirit of the contract, only the letter. We deliver her to his people and we get paid, and he might give us a bonus to keep quiet. It won't be in his interest to kill us, so long as we're smart enough to leave some evidence in a safe place for insurance."

The client had quieted down by this point, but she still didn't relinquish her grip on Rusty. There was no way gripping so tightly could be comfortable for her, and he was trying like hell not to move, lest she get something caught in one of the gaps between plates in his armor.

"Barring that, we take our chances with the thugs near the ship and return our retainer to the syndicate, citing complications not covered in the contract. I'm sure the Lady will be able to compensate us for the extra effort, and maybe squeeze something out of her lover once we get her to safety as well."

 

[Malia Afredane]

Mal looked at Lady Velam, makeup streaming down her face and her rude airs melted away. She was young. Old enough to know better than to get involved with a guy like Dragoon but young the same. They could try to call Dragoon but Mal had a feeling the outcome wouldn't be any better for Velam in either circumstance. Dragoon did not keep lovers who became problems. This qualified as a very big one. They had to help her. Mal cursed, pulling her datapad out and messaging the syndicate. She returned the money from their account, then entered a new contract for protection into the screen and turned it around to Velam to read.

"Listen up. We're going back to the ship. I canceled the contract we were given and you're going to sign this one that guarantees your safe arrival at your estate on Serenno. How's a 100,000 sound?"

Velam looked weepy but she signed it and wired the money.

"Good, can you shoot?"

Velam shook her head, curls and wisps of stray locks were starting to fall out of her updo.

"Ok, then button up my coat, and stay close."

They set off back towards the landing pads, but they took a difference return route. But the deviation revealed their shadow who managed to duck in and out with them through shops.

"Idiot. There're 2 ways to follow someone. One way, they never see you. The other way, they only see you."

 

[Rusty]

Upon spotting the tail, Rusty seemed to melt away into the background. Despite his size, he was surprisingly adept at not being seen.

"Act like you wanted to check out a shop," he whispered to Mal. When it came to matters of business, she was the Captain, and she was in charge. When it came to matters of survival, Rusty took charge, and that was a different matter altogether. "I'm going to go fishing."

Mal and the client made a good show of heading into a shop to look at something or another. They had made their way into a nicer neighborhood while trying to smoke out the tail, and the shopping district looked lively. Rusty didn't pay much attention to the wares of the store the women went into. He was more concerned about the woman in the nondescript traveling tunic that had followed them across town.

The tail had taken up station at an open air bistro across the street. I was a bustling joint, with customers both rushing in for a quick bite of lunch before heading back to work and folks looking to enjoy the unnaturally delightful weather. It was a sunny day, cool for this time of year, but not unpleasantly so. The air had the crisp feel of anticipation that only lasts a few hours before a pressure front rolls through and ruins it for everyone.

"Hello," he said as he sat down at the table across from the tail. To her credit, she didn't flinch at his unexpected arrival. "Lovely weather we're having."

The woman turned towards him, her expression lighting up, as if she'd run into an old, if unexpected, friend.

"Isn't it just," she said brightly, her right hand casually making its way under the table.

"It's a shame it won't last forever," Rusty replied conversationally. In a lower tone, pitched only for her ears, he said "That holdout blaster isn't going to do much more than ruin my jeans. My dart pistol, on the other hand, is going to dump a chemical cocktail into your femoral that will first render you senseless with euphoria, and then stop your heart. Not an unpleasant way to die, but fatal none the less. Stay calm and both of us walk away happy. Understood?"

She nodded.

"So what brings you to this part of town," she asked?

"Oh, you know the Captain. We were out on a job and had word that we might be getting some unexpected dinner guests. You know how she is about playing the host, so she wanted to pick up some supplies on the way back. It's a shame we don't know how many to expect."

The woman smiled brightly.

"Hey, what good is a surprise party if you know it's coming?"

"I know, right?"

The conversation carried on for a good fifteen minutes. The woman's name, or at least the one she provided, was Sera. According to her, there were only about five goons on the ship, and they weren't expecting much in the way of trouble. Her client assumed that he and the Captain were small timers, not worth any serious muscle.

And oddly enough, Rusty believed her. Sera was good, excellent even, at her job. At the end of the day, though, she was only human, and that meant it was all but impossible for her to lie without giving away certain signs that Rusty was more than equipped to detect. As far as anyone watching was concerned, they were two old friends laughing and joking and generally having a good time.

"Well, it's been fun," Rusty said, "but I have to get going."

"Aww, so soon?" They stood. The woman motioned to hug, which wouldn't have been inappropriate for old friends, but was very inappropriate for potential enemies. Still, there wasn't much of a choice if he wanted to maintain the charade, so he bent down and returned the hug.

"Thanks for lunch, it was fun," she whispered. "Not often I get to meet one of your kind."

Rusty would have stiffened involuntarily in shock, if it wasn't for the years he had spent around the Captain. He knew better than to make sudden movements while being embraced.

"Has it now," he replied.

"My parents used a nanny droid."

They released each other, and Rusty turned to go while Sera gathered her things.

"Oh, one more thing," she said as she rummaged about in her pocket. After a moment, she pulled out a tattered piece of paper and jotted down a comm code. "Don't be a stranger, okay? I'd love to meet up again sometime to talk business."

Rusty took the card and waved before heading back towards the store, but not before noticing she had left her jacket behind, and the tracking bug he had planted on it. He fiddled with a device on his belt that sent a short-ranged burst of energy that would fry to one she left on his cloak.

"[bleep], she's good," he said as he made his way back to the shop, practically whistling.

 

[Malia Afredane]

They left the store empty handed and rejoined Rusty on the street. He caught her up and Mal had to stop herself from hitting him as it would have only broken her hand.

"What in Bogan's beard made you talk to her? Now she's going to radio in for more help! Were you thinking this wasn't a challenge enough already?"

Mal had launched into Rusty right in front of Velam who now believed there was no way she was ever going to make alive back home. She promised herself that if she did, she was breaking it off with Dragoon. No man was worth this crap.

 

[Rusty]

Rusty weathered the tirade with good humor.

"Might have something to do with the thousand cred chip I slipped her that won't become active unless we punch in the code tomorrow," he said cheerfully. "Relax, Captain. This ain't my first rodeo."

He didn't mention that she worked directly for their original clients, and that she didn't much care for the hired help. Or that she had figured out his true identity.

"Besides, I got her number." He pulled the slip of paper.

"Anyway, I'm not going to take chances. When we get closer, I'm going to see if I can't slice into the security feed and see if she was right. Said there were five mooks, none of them exactly what we'd call top notch. They're expecting a couple of second rate smugglers, not the best [bleep] pilot this side of the Core."

 

[Malia Afredane]

This time, she was banging her head on the wall next to her, the cold metal facade of the building actually felt good on her now throbbing head. The rest of the walk back to the landing pad was fairly quiet but when they neared the block, Mal pulled Velam into a blind alley, and drew her blaster, letting her arm hang at her side. She was watching for movement, above and on the street when she heard Velam crying again softly. Mal tried to give her a sympathetic look but was fairly certain it was not coming across that way.

"Don't think about it. Try to think of something nice."

Velam did her best to reign in the waterworks but it just wasn't doing any good. She moved closer to Mal and whispered.

"Who are you?"

Mal ignored her to make sure they weren't being followed again. Velam kept talking.

"I mean, are you soldiers? Killers? Who takes a job like this?"

Mal glanced at her and shook her head.

"We, as in me and Rusty are smugglers and pirates. We steal things, we move things. We don't kill people."

She held up a waving hand as a look of horror hits Velam.

"Look, we're good shots. I was in the navy, Rusty's been everything. The people at the ship will be mercs, soldiers of fortune. Rust and I could be that but we choose not to. Well, I do at least. You're not gonna be hurt. Just leave it to me and him and do exactly what we say ok?"

She nodded at Mal, who peeked back into the street.

"Rusty, where the kriff are you?"

 

[Rusty]

"I'm over here," Rusty said from a patch of shadow a little way down a nearby alley. He was wrist deep in a conduit of some sort that seemed to be sprouting wires from every possible orifice. "I've managed to patch into the spaceport's security network, just trying to find the holocam feed."

After a couple more minutes of muted bleeping, Rusty finally managed to find what he was looking for.

"Okay, so there are only five of them, and their gear is definitely on the ragged side. Mostly small arms, and it looks like the leader has a blaster rifle. It's not in the best shape, but it's there. Looks like one of them is trying to slice Gracie's loading ramp, but the old girl's putting up a fight. If you want to protect the package, I can handle these goons, no sweat."

 

[Malia Afredane]

"Do it. I'll cover you from this end."

She made Velam crouch down next to her, her eyes peeled for someone trying to look too casual. Rusty disappeared into Ashla knows where, Mal pulled her blaster up to be ready to squeeze off a couple shots should she need to.

"Where are you from?"

Mal paused, then answered without looking.

"Bin Prime, Balmorra."

"What about him?"

Mal shook her head, watching for a signal for all clear or in trouble.

"I don't know. He doesn't know."

 

[Rusty]

In some ways, Rusty preferred to work solo when it came down to stuff like this. While his gimpy leg could leave him in a bad position, he didn't have to worry about hitting friendlies. Not having to hold back was, on such occasions, fun.

"Evening, gents," he said as he limped his way into the docking bay.

"Well well, look who finally showed up, boys. Where's your girlfriend?" The leader swaggered with the unmistakable air of a cruel man who thinks he's about to play the bully. The others all guffawed sycophantly, forming a half-ring around their leader and Rusty.

"Who, the Captain? She's not my girlfriend, you know."

That brought another round of raucous laughter from the toughs.

"Is that so," said the leader. "Well, I guess you won't object to me and my men taking her out on a date, right?"

This time, Rusty joined in on the laughter.

"Good one, guys! There's just one problem with that," he replied.

"Oh?" asked the leader. "And what might that be?"

"Last I checked, she's not into necrophilia."

If the bodyguard had been the hedonistic sort, he might have waited a few seconds to enjoy the looks of confidence give way to confusion and fear-tinged anger. Unfortunately for this lot, he wasn't.

Before the lead thug ever had a chance to realize what happened, Rusty grabbed a fistful of his cloak and hurled it over the man. To their credit, the thugs had good reflexes; they immediately had their pistols up and emptied them towards the sudden movement. By then, it was too late.

Using his left leg, his good leg, in other words, as a spring, Rusty dived to the left as the hail of blasterfire seared the air where he had been standing moments before. The leader was not so lucky. He took several rounds from his own men who, while quick on the draw, were not terribly disciplined. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Rusty turned the dive into a roll, coming up directly in front of the first thug on the left. The man barely had time to register his presence before a hooked knife caught him under the navel and slid upwards through muscle, flesh, and viscera with ease. The twenty centimeter incision spilled his bowels out on the ground, but he never saw what hit him. One minute, he was shooting, the next, there was a white-hot line of pain in his midsection, and a knife embedded in the bottom of his sternum. He fell to his knees and pitched forward onto his face, his body immediately going into shock. He was alive, but out of the fight.

The next thug suffered a similar fate, though his incision was horizontal rather than vertical. It stretched from hipbone to hipbone, just below the waistline of his pants.

By now, less than three seconds had passed, and Rusty was fresh out of forward momentum. Crouched down like he was, with his right leg under him, he wasn't going to be able to jump a third time, and it would take too long to shift his weight to his good leg. By that point, the other two thugs would realize what was happening, that that would be painful.

"Oh well," he said to himself as he drew his revolvers. The Captain might not be pleased with the idea, but he would rather be alive at the end. The shots themselves were perfectly centered kill shots that took each of the remaining thugs in the center of the face and ran up through the sinus cavity and into the brain. Works of art, really.

After a little difficulty, he brought himself back to a standing position, holstered his revolvers, and retrieved his blades from the first two targets. Once that was done, he gave the mic on the commlink two clicks, to let the Captain know he was finished with his work.