Faction The Most Dangerous Game In the Concrete Jungle | Darkwire

[Cyran Vaas]

[Ambient Music]

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An audible dinging noise came as Cyran reached their destined floor on the turbolift. In a large highrise building. Here to meet with a potential client, a corporate representative from the Czerka Arms. A rather prestigious client if the zeltron took on the job. All he knew was that this had to be a serious job, they were willing to pay just to have Cyran meet with the representative just to incentivise the bounty hunter to arrive as soon as possible. So it was at least worth checking out, but also gave some red flags. It seem like they were desperate for whatever issue they were facing to resolve quickly, waving credits upfront just to get Cyran’s attention.

Stepping out of the turbolift, Cyran held his dark helmet and underslung his arm on his right side. Making his way to the room where brawny armed guards stood. Without a word the pair stepped aside to let into the room. Not bothering to check the bounty hunter, or make sure he wasn’t a threat to their VIP. Perhaps they were confident that Cyran wouldn’t threaten a potential client, or were just confident that if he did he’d be dealt with swiftly and with ease. Stepping into the room to meet the corpo representative he was greeted by a sharply dressed woman who was just finishing a call with someone else. Hanging up she turned her attention to the bounty hunter. “Huh, I thought you people, always keep your helmets on. You’re not all pink under your armor are you?” Not the most professional way to meet your potential contractor. Before Cyran could introduce himself she cut him off. “Don’t bother Mr. Vaas, I already know all I need about you. The Guild recommended you, spoke rather highly too, I’m already behind schedule and don’t wanna waste another minute with pleasantries.”

Although she came off as a little abrasive, Cyran would welcome the lack of stuffy professionalism. Maybe she did too since she wasn’t dealing with a corpo and needed to show empty respect towards. In the zeltron’s line of work, one could only get so far on superficial qualities alone, he knew that all too well when he was still a bachelor. “I understand Miss, we can get straight to business. I suppose that since I’m here you’re looking for someone or something?”

“Precisely, a piece of rouge merchandise. A prototype created as a joint venture between Czerka and Neuro-Saav. A cybernetically augmented individual, we want them captured alive and brought back into company, and can’t cause any more damage.” The corpo woman explained, there was a level of unease to referring to an individual to merchandise. Sounded like some sort of escaped experiment.

”I see, well I’m gonna want some info, like what I need to look out for, name, last known location, that sort of stuff.” Cyran said so they could start to create a mental profile of his target.

“It's just a new weapon system we’re developing, still in R&D for the most part. But in testing there was an oversight when it came to ionic vulnerabilities. The electrical damage ruined the inhibitor chip and allowed them to go rogue. Also destroyed their tracker which is why we’re not sure where they are. They’re quite irritable and dangerous, a one man army.” That helped give Cyran an idea of what he was up against. But it wasn’t enough to paint a decent enough picture.

“Okay, we’re they an employee with either czerka or neuro-saav, name, species even?” Cyran continued to ask to collect more information.

“I’m afraid that’s classified intel you're asking for. Not the kind I have the liberty to disclose to a contractor like yourself. Plus I needed this taken care of yesterday, even if I wanted I don’t have time to give you their whole backstory.” The corop replied, causing Cyran to frown. She seemed to be rather vague witht he details.

“Listen, I need that info, I understand client confidentiality, but if you want me to at least a halfway decent shot at finding and apprehending this cyborg you’ve let loose on Denon I’m gonna need more information. Plus I haven’t taken on this contract yet, I could just walk out of here right now and spare myself from this own ordeal.” Cyran explained, letting the corpo woman understand where he was coming from. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else to take on the job, but I assure you they won’t get it done, and just waste more of your precious time. So I’ll ask you one more time. Name, close family, last known location and any other important information that would be of value to me.”

The woman let out a huff, visibly annoyed with Cyran insisting on getting more information out of her. But he made a good point, she was looking for his help, and couldn’t be too standoffish toward the bounty hunter. The ball was in Cyran’s court. “Fine, their name is Dak Harlin, 22 male, no immediate family or friends, they were raised an orphan. They signed a waiver to allow us to perform experimental augmentations. Giving them military grade weaponry and defenses.” She explained and continued. “Last known location was them crawling down into a garbage shoot not far outside of the Suicide Slums in Seven Corners. Also we've used Dak in some practical field tests against Darkwire terrorists, there might be a chance members of that organization could seek revenge on Dak and kill him if they haven’t already. They’re considered to be suffering from cybernetic-psychosis, so we advise against trying to negotiate or reason with them.” After she finished she gave Cryan a look that basically asked “good enough?”

The zeltron nodded, “Okay, think that gives me enough to actually work off of now.” Grabbing his helmet he placed it over his head, covering him up. “I’ll take the Job…”

OOC:

The tracking, apprehension and or killing of Dak Harlin is the ultimate goal of the thread. Cyran is just one perspective and individual who could be on a mission to hunt down the cyber-psycho. Others might he Darkwire
operatives, someone hired by Neuro-Saav as opposed to Czerka in Cyran's case, or general CorpSec forces. Allowing for a wide range of opposition, be it Corpo, Darkwire or anything in-between/adjacent, to create conflict in the hunt for a cyber-psycho on the loose. Feel free to contact or DM for any questions.​

 

[Samuel Exel]

Suicide Slums, Denon

CorpSec had their hands full, as of late. After the lock-down, many resources had been lost due to the mess of an aftermath left behind. It was easier to hire a Bounty Hunter of their own. The cost may have been pricey, but seemingly more worth it than sending off their own folk to handle the job. They were much too busy elsewhere to spare on what was considered ‘trivial’ matters in the grand scheme of things.

Personally, Samuel usually never much cared for the bigger picture. That was why he was here in the first place, after all. Why he was in his occupation. CorpSec more than likely thought it wasn’t a good look right now to be one-upped by having the murderer be taken out without their hand in it. Public Relations, and all that. With the Lockdown, new patrols were posted, and many more forces had mobilized all throughout the lower levels of Denon, much to the dismay of the Discretes. It could be described as little else other than a show of force, with a raised steel fist. And with that, they needed to set examples. String up people to tell their story of Villains and Heroes, of where all the blame goes to, and who’s keeping the common folk safe. At the very least, they wouldn’t want accusations of inadequacy.

They didn’t care for the reasoning, nor the motivation or casualties. Just another problem in the face of progress, as it were, to be wiped clean. Too much trouble to dirty their own hands with, but enough to warrant some measure of attention. That suited the Bounty Hunter just fine; frankly, the fact they were likely to turn out as a murderous psychopath seemed to be enough for Exel to accept at his usual (fairly high) rates. Perhaps ‘Deputized’ once more under his contractors so they had a way to say ‘one of their own’ had put a stop to a monster. To say the least, his deputization was more of an ironic joke in the face of actual ‘justice’ - Bounty Hunters were vastly different from trained officers.

Then again, ‘Justice’ seemed to be a joke on Denon in the first place. So his version would have to suffice.

Given a location, a lead, and a suspect, he was sent off. At most, one of the many newly-produced Interceptors dropped him off at a last known, cordoned location to investigate. All CorpSec knew was they were a potential threat, one who had already killed a couple of Discretes and an Officer in their psychosis. The term ‘Cyberpsycho’ was a completely foreign one to the Hunter, and yet he understood perfectly within moments. It was a fate he dreaded, why he so ardently refused any cybernetics and settled for his armor as proxy. Being reduced to a rabid dog was never one for him, and he was more than happy to put another out of their misery.

There was a short drop from the low-flying interceptor, falling to the floor with a practiced ease. The soft scrape of armor plates and equipment against each other was audible with each step that followed. Bolas hung from his hip, and a fearsome-looking probe droid was latched to his back, having been re-activated after spending a year in storage. Not to mention all the other armaments on his person.

An officer with the datapad, waiting at the outset of the meeting place, glanced upwards at the Hunter for a moment, looking over him. “You’re the guy they sent?” Almost incredulous, quirking an unseen brow beneath the riot gear. More than likely, he was expecting a crack team - specialists. Not one mere Bounty Hunter.

“I am.” Was all that was offered in a monotonous reply. “Are you going to give me my briefing?”

There was a small exhale in return, as if exasperated. “Alright.” Waving a dismissive hand, before gesturing him along past the holo-cordon posts. “Three casualties. Two civilians, one of our own. We can’t let that slip past right about now.” The pair steps past a bloody scene. One body mutilated beyond recognition, another blown to bits. The third cut to pieces. Samuel’s gaze from behind the visor peered with a mild disgust, less-so for the sight but for the action itself. He figured the only reason they were concerned was the singular casualty, rather than the civilians, but it was clear it was a threat to just about anybody. “I see. There a suspect?” He queried the officer.

“One. A ‘Dak Harlin,’ 20-something year-old-male psychopath loaded up with bunch of military-grade modifications. Background check says he signed some contract with some tech company, and this is the result.” The officer’s finger flitted through the datapad, reading over the overview. “We don’t know what he’s packing, but the effect is…” Gesture outwards. “Apparent. Can’t let a misdeed go unpunished, and we’ve no one to spare. So you’ll have to pick up the slack.” The gaze of the officer rested on the Bounty Hunter once more. “Bag him if you can, bring proof back if not so we can deal with the nay-sayers. No one escapes CorpSec.”

An ominous saying, but a fair one in an environment like this. Not too long ago, he would have echoed the same thing, merely for himself. The ominous helmet tilted in apparent interest after listening.

“Very well. Point me in the direction.”

 

[Cyran Vaas]

Dashing around the illuminated skyline of the seemingly endless city, Cyran stood on his small repulsor craft. Using the Sky Striker 5000 to leave the highrise building he met his client instead of needing to take the turbolift down to exit. Along with info to help him navigate to his destination he was reading up on what he could on his target. Unfortunately though there wasn’t a whole lot extra to use. The most important stuff he had so far was the limited data disclosed by his client.

His first stop was their home address. Hoping to find some clues or an idea of Dak Harlin. To at least start to create a psychological profile of his target, at least before they lost their mind. Eventually arriving at his destination. Stepping off from his tiny vehicle and onto the stairway balcony that leads to his apartment. Fortunately for Cyran it didn’t seem corpsec authorities were here. Stepping up to the door he gave a knock. It was more of a courtesy and he didn’t expect anyone was inside.

It was a locked, electronic sliding door. Cyran hummed to himself a bit in thought before drawing a force pike from his back. Activating the weapon he pressed and slid the tip across where the door met the frame. Cutting it apart with ease before prying it open for himself to get in. “Open sesame…” He remarked to himself. Stepping into the small and cramped apartment it seemed as though nobody had been home for a while. Dak must've been stuck with the corpos for quite a while. Stepping through and began to look around for personal information. Naturally checking their personal computer first. But the machine seemed bricked, and couldn't even get to a log on screen. Cyran frowned under his helmet before checking the desk for any important paperwork or files. But there were large stacks of late or past due bill notices. Not much but the bounty hunter was beginning to deduce Dak may have been down on his luck. Not out of the ordinary here on Denon. Perhaps signing a contract with the corpos as a last ditch effort to get some credits for himself. An act of desperation perhaps.

Under the stacks of past due bills he found something peculiar. Holding it up it was a photo, an old framed one. A physical memento made with some pretty old tech. The photo showed a large group of children, next to them stood a woman, in some traditional looking spiritual garbs. All of whom stood in front of an old building. One that looked as though it was being suffocated by the urban sprawl around it At the corner written was a date. 846 ABY. Cyran figured this could’ve been the orphanage Dak grew up in. Next the date it listed an address as well. Setting the picture down he looked up the address of the datapad on his vambrace. It was close to Seven Corners. Not far from where he was informed was Dak’s last known location.

A knot in Cyran’s stomach began to form, dreading that the cyberpsycho was on a crash course to their old home. If his fears were true he needed to act fast, although it could already be too late. Quickly exiting the apartment, Cyran’s SkyStriker 5000 hovered idly from the balcony. Hopping onto it, he made a mad dash to Seven Corners.

Samuel Exel