First Reply Unalone on Altier

[Livia Cadera]

Looking for a bounty rival, someone who just happens to be there, or, if you are happy to agree that your character dies, the bounty target
(Civi clothes only please)

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Location: Altier, ruined industrial complex - THR space
Objective: Take down the bounty
Gear: Beskar'gam, Skeleton, shotgun, Disruptor pistol, a couple of micro-grenades Ship
Tags: OPEN

The client was paying good money for this head. She didnt know why. And the value was the same dead or alive so he or she clearly didnt care that Livia had no intention of hauling some idiot back to her ship. A nice clean job.

She wasnt here as a mandalorian, the mission parameters didnt allow it, she had to make her way into this buried factory on Altier via a club, guns were ok, but rocking up in Beskar'gam, not so much. And getting in another route, also not an option for a myriad of reasons mostly related to the targets paranoia. She had to respect him, he was taking care.

However, Livia was a weapon and as the gantry creaked she flexed her hand to extend her long Dral-kayatr claws on one hand. Anyone who thought she was low risk because she only has a little pistol, that was dumb. She paused as she heard footsteps nearby. Someone else was there, who? She would let them pass a little before making a move. A scream or blaster shot right now would be a mis-step. She would happily carve her bloody way back out, but there was precisely one person that she had to be certain was dead first. She pressed herself backward into an alcove and waited patiently to see who was making the steps.

 

[Dravik Thorne]

Dravik Thorne stood at the edge of the club's upper maintenance level and listened to the building breathe. Old machinery thrummed through the walls, slow and uneven. A distance rumble continued from the music.

The client had been clear. Same price, dead or alive. No urgency in the voice, no emotional weight behind the contract. That told Dravik everything he needed to know. The target was an inconvenience rather than a vendetta.

He had not come through the front. Clubs were loud, unpredictable, and full of variables that liked to panic. Instead, he had followed the maintenence channels, slipping in through a service shaft that had not been

The rifle rested across his back, wrapped and dormant. He would not need it yet.

Dravik did not hurry.

He flexed his corrupted hand once, feeling the slow crawl of power respond. The Nightsisters watched through his eyes, curious but silent for now. They did not care about this bounty.