James Justice
Charting new Paths
While she was busy capturing the man, James jumped onto the speeder their assassin had been driving and quickly scoured it for evidence and intel. There wasn't much, and it was already catching on fire so James had to be quick. He found a field box for a sniper rifle and a half melted datapad. It wouldn't do them much good right now, but when they got back home, they could strip it for data. At the sound of approaching sirens James stormed closer to their captive.
James grabbed the sleezy native by the collar and haulled him away several halls away from the wreckage. He gave Celiana an appreciative nod before tossing the man against the wall.
"Ugh, fething hell, you got any respect?" the captive half shouted shifting to cater to his damaged leg.
James could have lectured. He could have given a speech about all he had done, what he was willing to do, and how he was a crime lord without anything left to lose but he didn't. He simply took his old Jericho pistol-shotgun, pressed it against the man's thigh and pulled the trigger. A spray of blood and bits of shattered bone sprayed out the exit wound onto the carpet. Half the lead pellets were still in the man's thigh, sending waves of agony and shock through him. The spy let out a howl of agony, lurching as he grabbed his good leg. James cocked the other hammer back and placed it on the man's left arm, "Employer's name. Now."
"Not who," he grunted, "What. The Killiks. They have a hive mind. In the under levels. A few hundred--max. The mother must have been behind it."
"Does it hurt?"
The man managed a nod.
"Ye want it to end?"
He nodded again.
James handed over the pistol, "Then I suggest ye get to work, the cops will be here in a matter of half a minute."
He turned away from the man to give him his coward's way out in private, "There should be an elevator a few halls down. We can take this to the lowest level. Let's go."
[member="Celiana"]

James grabbed the sleezy native by the collar and haulled him away several halls away from the wreckage. He gave Celiana an appreciative nod before tossing the man against the wall.
"Ugh, fething hell, you got any respect?" the captive half shouted shifting to cater to his damaged leg.
James could have lectured. He could have given a speech about all he had done, what he was willing to do, and how he was a crime lord without anything left to lose but he didn't. He simply took his old Jericho pistol-shotgun, pressed it against the man's thigh and pulled the trigger. A spray of blood and bits of shattered bone sprayed out the exit wound onto the carpet. Half the lead pellets were still in the man's thigh, sending waves of agony and shock through him. The spy let out a howl of agony, lurching as he grabbed his good leg. James cocked the other hammer back and placed it on the man's left arm, "Employer's name. Now."
"Not who," he grunted, "What. The Killiks. They have a hive mind. In the under levels. A few hundred--max. The mother must have been behind it."
"Does it hurt?"
The man managed a nod.
"Ye want it to end?"
He nodded again.
James handed over the pistol, "Then I suggest ye get to work, the cops will be here in a matter of half a minute."
He turned away from the man to give him his coward's way out in private, "There should be an elevator a few halls down. We can take this to the lowest level. Let's go."
[member="Celiana"]