Killer's Mantra

[Varik Ice]

Minorous Traske​

---

Location: Nal Hutta's Swamps​

Objective: The Redhawk Gang​

​

He could hear a drum beating in the distance.

Minorous had been tracking this gang of predators for almost a day now, watching their movements, their schedules. It wasn't because he had any issue with what they did - just with the amount of money a minor Hutt was offering for their deaths. He wanted something specific, and that was always extra. He wanted them to know it was happening. To feel fear and terror before they died, and he wanted it in a specific order. To make sure the final one, the one who had pulled the trigger on this Hutt's child, could only anticipate the end, could only wait for oblivion rather than fight against it. He had to feel helpless.

The Rodian was already gone. Traske waited in a far off-tree, his appearance disguised by the stealth field that surrounded his body. The alien had been stabbed as requested, and was now strung up to a tree near the gang's hideout, his body tied to it with a note held against his chest by a knife. The note itself was a message, but a simple one. All it held was a symbol of the Hutts, so the gang would know their ire.

Next was the Devaronian. After him, the Weequay, and finally, the Klatooinian. He had a plan for this. He had killed their night guard, and as the gang came out to witness their comrade's corpse, all they could really do was panic at what was coming for them. The three quickly packed up and began fleeing their base, with Traske watching them through the sniper's scope. He waited patiently, watching for the moment when the Devaronian fell behind. In that moment, he fired, catching the alien straight through the back of his knee with the shot, and sending him onto the ground in a yowling heap.

Minorous pulled back the cooling lever on his weapon as he watched the Devaronian's comrades turn and hesitate, before both deciding to sprint off and leave him as he called for their aid. The hunter took his time, as he knew he could. With his cloak still active, he made his way to the crawling bandit, who knew something was close, but not where it was coming from, or even what it was. As he frantically glanced around, Traske landing a stunning knife into his leg, paralysing him in place.

The hunter took his time pacing around the wounded man, making sure he felt the fear, the helplessness. This wasn't strictly his style, but his professionalism demanded he stick to what was instructed. Moving around behind the Devaronian, the hunter drew his slug pistol, planting a single, silenced shot into the base of the alien's spine, ensuring he would never get up. The alien groaned in pain when Minorous ripped out the knife, walking past as an activated detonator dropped down near the alien's lower body.

He didn't have the time to deactivate it, or even throw it a fair distance - but as Traske returned to the trees, now tracking his two quarry once again through the humid swamps, he wasn't concerned by the noise the explosion would make. It would only add to the effect. Most important now, was that he was closing in. They weren't getting very far.

[member="Darth Maliphant"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Efficient.”, Tiamat said beyond the heavily modulated voice.

The man known as Tiamat, that which was Maliphant’s Genoharadan pseudonym, stood idly on a cliff overlooking the night time basin that held the swamps Minorous now trudged through for domination. One after another fell, with nothing but the empty reflection of Nar Shaddaa to give them any comfort; a sad and pathetic death in the filth that was the Hutt’s homeworld. Next to Maliphant stood one of his personal Maven, that which held a secret identity but originated from his connection with The Sith Academy of Barbatos.

It was a man, who’s mask covered most of his features besides the black, near shoulder length hair he carried. His ears were pierced, a common body modification made by The Sith in the current times with roots back much farther; and even in The Force he was but an ant compared to the likes of Tiamat’s natural prowess. He was not strong in the mystical ways, nor some expertised god in a single power; but where he lost to many other Sith in terms of The Force, he made up for in not only his vast tactile intelligence, but his physical prowess. His voice reflected Tiamat’s, modulation keeping it heavily altered;

“I suppose.”, he said in a short, monotone demeanor.

“Go out, draw him towards the meeting spot.”, Tiamat said before turning away, with his Maven’s only response a quiet ‘Yes, Master.’

What Minorous didn’t know, nor did the Hutt that hired him, was that almost every step of the way this had been planned by The GenoHaradan and its numerous contacts. From the initial hiring of The Redhawk Gang to murder the minor Lord’s son, to the luck of the Hutt finding Minorous of all people to track down would be murderers, all placed in a very special manner to make reality the moment they stood. There would be no room for error now, as the final climax of the night came to its head.

Deep in the swamp, the Maven known as ‘Vermilion’ moved through the darkness with a quiet regard for the nature, near silent as he stocked the assassin; watching as he moved through the trees and bogs to end the life of all those who had wronged his employer. Perhaps Minorous didn’t think of the morality of it, but it was certainly quint how hypocritical the killing of killers could be, something ‘Vermilion’ couldn’t help but enjoy the idea of.

As the explosion of the thermal detonator forced much of the nearby wildlife into spurs and spits of rage, Vermilion moved with a lightning fast pace to intercept the now dedicated killer, landing in a clearing just as he made it to one end of such, his voice moving to greet him almost as soon as he did;

“Minorous Traske. I’ve been summoned to collect you.”, the masked agent said with a controlled monotony. He did not move from his stance, simply waiting and watching for the assassin’s response.


[member="Minorous Traske"]

 

[Varik Ice]

Minorous Traske​

---

Location: Nal Hutta's Swamps​

Objective: The Redhawk Gang​

​

There was something else in these swamps.

Though it was not anything akin to a true danger sense, Traske's instincts told him that there was more beyond the gnarled trees and stinking bogs than just a couple of bandits running for their lives. He'd never really cared about the reasoning of the contract, in truth - he was being paid, so these men would die. It was a rather simple equation in his mind, and he'd long foregone any care about what was right and proper in the galaxy. What was the point in that?

Minorous had moved into the trees, watching and waiting as he neared a clearing. Eventually, he dropped down and moved to enter it, stopping as he picked up on quick movement nearby, much faster than a normal man's speed. Traske had his pistol raised and was tracking the target all the same - only once he had a clear and effective shot did he plan on pulling the trigger. Thankfully, his reactions were far beyond that of normal constraints as well, and he prepared himself to aim for the centre of the target's mass; it was a safer and more efficient way of firing, rather than the bravado of trying to ventilate a threat's head.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. It was a man, standing there blatantly with a mask covering his face. The only real feature available was his black hair, and that was hardly an indicator of identity. Still, he didn't seem to be moving yet. As the stranger spoke his name, Traske stopped in place, staring intently through the visor of his helmet. He would have usually considered this delay an issue with his work - but he was to allow them to build anticipation anyway.

The cloak faded as the blue armour now became obvious to see, at least with one's eyes, rather than through the force. Traske's training remained in his mind, protecting it from mental assault, his walls up as he still remained cautious of what he knew had to be a force user. He didn't lower his weapon, still keeping it trained on this being as he kept his senses perked, waiting for any signs of his potential backup.

"Make it quick. I'm in the middle of my work." He didn't see the point in making some kind of elongated threat. He would let this creature explain, and he had to plan on how to react accordingly. What to do if he kept at range, if he came rushing forward. Or what to do if he was, unusually, not hostile at all.

[member="Darth Maliphant"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Your work is no longer important.”, the synthesized voice said flatly.

Instead of speaking further however, the man simply motioned for Minorous to follow as he began to speed off; as fast as he had before. His speed was inhuman, and his agility was on par with a vornskr, leaping from tree to tree with powerful yet contained movements; obviously the result of years of training at utilizing the absolute minimum of his force prowess at any given moment. Still, if the rumors were true, ‘Vermilion’ knew that Minorous could keep up; and if he couldn’t, he simply wasn’t worth the time and effort they’d already sunk into getting him.

The two would traverse the swamp in patches, over bogs and under the canopy as the distant red moon overwatched every action they took, its never blinking eye the guide that illuminated their path in the otherwise blackened swamp. Over rocks, under trees, only to stop high above where they once were in a separate clearing; within there stood only one figure this time, the bone mask he wore fitting far better into the swamp than one cared to admit, its two singular blue eyes watching with a certain harshness that heavily contrasted the otherwise subtle darkness of the night.

It spoke as it looked, harsh and disturbing, its voice many octaves lower than were natural for such a being;

“Welcome, Minorous. My name is Tiamat.”, it said with a darkness far more abysmal than what surrounded them.

“‘Vermilion’, deal with the rest of the Redhawk. I will speak to our guest.”

With that, the other of the two sprinted off; sprinting into the darkness as his presence almost instantly disappeared from both The Force and any physical measures, the skill of a master. There was no seeing him regardless in the darkness, leaving only the masked Tiamat and the would be assassin known as Minorous.

[member="Minorous Traske"]