Private Job To Do

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
BASTION
FOCUS | Icarn Amonta

Culling out elements of dissidence in Bastion didn’t cease after the battle was won against the Empire. There was much to infrastructure to rebuild and renovate whatever left was intact. The only good thing from winning Bastion was that it wasn’t left in nuclear fire unlike the other worlds in the Braxant Run. Not a lot of collateral damage except whatever that was shelled by heavy cannons. The usual damages of war.

Everyone had their own tasks in wiping out any dissidence on Bastion, all of it concentrating on Sith loyalists whether they were undercover Sith-Imperial personnel or actual Sith. Darkness fell on Bastion, now it was time to cast it out.

For Djorn? As a former intelligence operative for the Sith, he went out of his own way in acquiring documents and other data to be analyzed and further studied. Not too difficult at all as none of the data was wiped off from the hubs. Uncover projects and operations, and deliver them to COMPNOR.

There was one peculiar thing that garnered his attention. An experiment conducted by one of the Sith’s renowned scientists. The documents regarding to said experiment went past any boundaries and ethics, disrespecting the subject of this experiment.

Snake and a small team of storm commandos were heading for this classified research compound far off from the main settlements of Bastion.

Abandoned by the looks of it. No doubt it’s internal defenses would activate regardless even if there wasn’t any staff of personnel to be seen.

“Shoot on sight. I’m not taking any chances with whatever is in here.”

 

[Icarn Amonta]

BASTION
Djorn Bline

Icarn had spent more than his fair share in labs. Even more than he remembered, he suspected. Every so often, every couple years, he'd black out for one reason or another, live in a dream until he would wake up in unfamiliar land, each time different than who or what he was before. He'd no idea how old he was, not really. It hardly mattered, either, not when appearances were his to command. 'His', 'theirs', 'it's', the pronouns were all the same, simply tools to be used and abused.

War must've woken the skinshifter from their slumber this time around, judging from how utterly unsupervised they'd been upon waking up. Eliminating what scientists were present, swiftly killing some and playing with others, had been an easy feat. It'd been almost disappointing, maddening, even.

A ghost of a voice whispered in his brain, memories of another, one who'd done horrible, cruel things to him he couldn't quite remember. A voice he'd wanted to hear again.

None of these scientists had that voice.

That didn't stop him from making what was left of the laboratory a home of sorts. Or perhaps a playground was a more accurate term. The creature of variable had many times even considered picking up the scientific trade themself. After all, they had the equipment now. Imagine, if they could make more like them.

And then one day, someone else found their way into the compound. A good thing, too, for Icarn had been getting rather bored. They'd quickly set about investigating these new guests, hacking security cameras, coms.

"Shoot on sight. I’m not taking any chances with whatever is in here."​

Icarn grinned. Now that was a game they could get behind. The shifter was all too pleased with themself as they hit a button to broadcast from the coms, also focussing on the speaker, Icarn's words to be heard both telepathically and physically. "Oh? But where's the fun in that? No chase, no finesse. No, that won't do at all."

He stopped speaking, out loud anyway, maintaining the telepathic connection. I think we should play a game instead.

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
BASTION
FOCUS | Icarn Amonta

If anyone was having second thoughts on Djorn’s orders, they would’ve immediately discarded them after a voice greeted them upon entering the compound. It wasn’t their voice on the speakers that threw them off, but rather it was that voice inside their heads telepathically. That was enough for all of them to look at each other, making sure they weren’t the only ones to hear it.

“Did you-?”

“Yeah, I heard it. Probably trained in the Force or something.”

“Probably? More like the hell they are, and we’re just a squad up against this.”

“What? Are you new here? Just shut up, and focused. The more you queen, the more likely we all get killed.”

That was enough to shut up everyone in the squad.

Walking through the hallways, it was like any sort of experimental laboratory. A lot of glasteel rooms with all kinds of technology and random subjects being tested. Looked like everything being studied was based around biology. Monsters was always an abundance for the Sith, and it seemed these creations got the best of their creators with all the dead scientists scattered around and blood painted everywhere.

Serves them right.

“Let’s go to the central hub, get as much data as we need.”

 

[Icarn Amonta]

BASTION
Djorn Bline

An all too delighted chuckle - ever-changing though clearly no more than one voice at a time could be heard before the coms cut off and Icarn stood from his seat. He gazed at each individual that appeared on camera, taking a quick moment to size them up, make mental notes of how he might best deal with them. This was, after all, his home now, no?

While there were no scientists left to be found, except for in pieces, there was still the occasional subject, more creatures than people. Icaarn had kept them around, even fed some of the scientists to some of them. They were cute, the creatures, in their own twisted way.

Now, however, Icarn poured over the various security controls, a delicate hand rising to vacantly stroke his chin. It wasn't a question of if he'd release them, more a question of how many and which ones. After all, just lil ol' him taking on a group of operatives? Now that just didn't seem fair, did it? No, it'd surely be over far too soon, and just like that, his latest source of live entertainment would be gone.

A couple keystrokes later, however, and the doors of a couple containment rooms were sliding open. Satisfied, Icarn exited the security room, a vibro dagger twirling between his ever-changing fingers. And the game, surely a most dangerous game at that, was afoot.

"Come out, come out."

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
BASTION
FOCUS | Icarn Amonta

At least there was some lighting. That was a blessing to count on, though he wasn’t counting on them for remaining on too long. There was already a psychopath that pretended to be some “overlord” of this compound after all the scientists killed and mutilated. Just need to retrieve whatever they needed to get and then rain down hell upon this demented place. This compound was evidence of all the decadence and evil that the Sith bred.

No one had died or even shot ever since arriving here, their footsteps bringing them closer and closer to danger.

“This guy is a push off, full of shit. Really think one guy is gonna outmatch us?”

Right on cue when several containment doors were open, freeing whatever contents there were. Which weren’t at all pleasant and friendly. All of them were experiments, deformed monsters from so much abuse to the research of their creators.

“Light the bastards up.”

These creatures would receive no mercy; hell, death would a sweet relief from all the trauma and horrors they had suffered.

“Don’t break ranks! Keep the formation steady!”

 

[Icarn Amonta]

BASTION
Djorn Bline

Icarn let the beasts act as they would. Whether they lived, died, did literally anything else, it made no difference to him. They were free, they'd surely introduce an extra dose of chaos to the field, something Icarn was far more interested in than actual results.

The skinshifter slinked down one hallway after another, their form altering and adjusting with each step. Some steps encapsulated entire walkways, while others covered mere inches of ground in an ever-shifting gait. Their was an air of excitement following the creature of sorts, like a predator anticipating the chase of their prey. Which truly wasn't far off from what Icarn was doing. If the Anzat within his genes had taught him anything, it was how to appreciate such a sort of hunt.

With dagger still in his hand now morphing into his person, he took to a form similar to one of the beasts released. All the better to blend in as he neared the shouts of battle. Vocal cords vibrating in a mocking roar, he charged toward one of those on the fringe of this small group, deliberately avoiding hitting them head-on, letting them think they had the upper hand before --

Shink.​

Form altering once more mid-movement, he whirled about behind them , dagger-wielding hand morphing out of the creature's form and embedding itself into the operative. A cruel smile was plastered on Icarn's face as he moved to slink back into the shadows, aiming once more to capitalize on the chaos around him.

"One by one, we all fall down."

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
BASTION
FOCUS | Icarn Amonta

Accuracy was pivotal in this situation. Every shot had to count. Didn’t need to kill them outright, just needed to hurt them and slow them down. Cripple them before landing a death stroke on these creatures.

If this was Chaos, then they were it’s antithesis.

Order.

Through order, peace could be established and allow the fruits of civilization to be harvest. The Sith manipulated the tenets of Imperialism for their own benefit, exploit it to their own advantage. Create a decadent empire to be used only for those privileged. However, that was challenged and shocked with the true sons of Imperialism to take back what was theirs. These experiments were products of the Sith, thus a compromise to order.

Suddenly, something got through the ranks of the Imperial commandos as one soldier fell to their death. Djorn was unable to catch the one responsible of their death as they slithered away in the shadows.

“Fuck.”

The firing ceased when every beast was littered on the floor with their corpses. Everyone made sure they were dead with a blaster bolt in the head up close. Vitals were checked and was confirmed that one operative was dead.

“We’ll recover him later, let’s keep moving. Finish what we started. Sooner we finish, sooner we can bombard the crap outta this place with whatever creep is running around.”

 

[Icarn Amonta]

BASTION
Djorn Bline

One down. Others to go, Icarn wasn't so foolish as to indulge in a premature victory. Nevertheless, he found joy in the havoc he incited, took pride in the carnage he caused. Oh, does that mean I get to keep him, then? Don't worry, I'll have such fun, he chuckled, transmitting the message directly into the minds of those who remained.

It would be such a shame if he got lonely, however. Perhaps you lot should join him.

With a cruel grin, he watched the remaining group from afar. His form shifted and writhed with each vacant thought, some set on devising the next method in which he'd play with these survivors, others just drifting down other routes. He'd vaguely remembered hearing the fallen operative speak shortly before their demise. The voice sample was small, likely bound for an imperfect imitation but it would be enough for the moment.

Yes, join me. It's not so bad. It was the operative's voice in their heads now, though Icarn aimed to have it sound distant, with hopes to further disguise holes in the disguise. He moved like a shadow throughout the complex, waiting for just the right moment to catch another operative in his grasps.

Snag them as they turned a corner, silence them before they could alert anyone, then hide amongst who was left, an imposter among men. That, at least, was Icarn's goal.

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
BASTION
FOCUS | Icarn Amonta

“Don’t listen to whatever the hell it is,” raising morale for his fellow commandos as they could hear the voice telepathically. The same voice that greeted them upon entering the compound. “It’s trying to distract us, wanting to break our ranks. Just stay focus.”

That’s all they could do. Stay focus and finish the task at hand. They came this far for nothing. They’d make it worth it. They had a reputation to live by as hardened soldiers in special forces.

“Go ahead, come out again you freak. I’ve got something for your forehead.”

He wouldn’t get fooled again.

Fool me once, shame on you.

You fool me, but you can’t get fooled again.​

 

[Icarn Amonta]

BASTION
Djorn Bline

As the group's leader barked commands, they could still all hear a delighted chuckle in the back of their minds. Ever-present, ever-teasing. The mind games were just as much his forte as the war games, or perhaps even more so. The shifter stalked his prey with unnatural grace. Following them as they walked into one of the larger rooms, before slinking off to the room's control panel.

"Oh? Is that a threat or a promise?" The voice practically purred, speaking aloud this time, mimicking the speaker's voice before melding into his own cacophony of sound. In a flurry of motion, he dug a dagger into the control panel, cutting the lights before moving once more to enact violence.

Ring around the facility,
group of liabilities.​

All too soon, it was deathly silent again.

Soldiers, ashes,​

He drew closer to those still standing, near-silent as he rose his weapon once more to strike.

They all fall down. ​