You'll Know When It Happens

[Hannibal Oryen]

Looting was a hobby of Hannibal's. There was nothing quite so satisfying as breaking the windows of a storefront, scrambling inside, and grabbing whatever it was you could carry. Anarchy was a common thing in this galaxy of ours. The reader will, of course, kindly note that given such a dense population of habitable planets, coupled with the various regions and cities that could be located on those planets, outbreaks of anarchy were common occurrences. When Hannibal was particularly bored, he usually just did a holonet search for news articles that involved anarchy.

And of course, there were always some. Be it some underground sector of Coruscant or a city on a backwater planet, there was always some place just ripe for looting. But little did this deplorable opportunist know, he wouldn't be leaving this planet with loot. Or anything aside from a crippling sense of disappointment.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

"Hello my baby," Hannibal sang, cutting into the back of the ATM with a blowtorch. "Hello my honey..."

Night had fallen in this unnamed city on an unnamed, backwater Outer Rim world. It was pitch black and it was only 7:00. The sounds of disjointed civil anarchy were prevalent in the background. Gunfire, screaming, revving engines, occasional explosion... The works. These were all quite some ways off in the distance, and so did little to bother the ever-earnest Fondorian as he attempted to procure some extra credit chips.

"Hello my ragtime gaaaal..."

He didn't need the money. No one who designed droids for a multi-billion credit company needed much of anything. This was just fun. Sport. Hannibal knew a dentist from Ord Cestus who hunted Acklay on Felucia in his downtime There was a sales rep he knew on Lianna that beat the hell out of his friends in some kind of brawler's club every Friday night. This was hardly the worst thing he could be doing.

Granted, there were far better things he could have been doing, but not everyone had a heart of gold.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

"Send me a kiss by wire..."

He shut the blowtorch off, switching it for a crowbar which he used to pry the back panel off. Now exposed to the open air were stacks upon stacks of credit chips. If he were some kind of petty thug, this would have been the jackpot. As it currently stood, this was probably a day's wages. Hannibal could spend a few afternoons at the ever-popular intergalactic arcade Blips and Chitz with this.

Hannibal retrieved his obligatory burlap sack and began shoveling fistfuls of credits into it. "Baby my hearts on fire, if you refu-"

This catchy, non-universe-friendly tune was suddenly interrupted by an ear splitting, feminine scream. Hannibal immediately perked up. That sounded far too close for his tastes. He half-turned around to check behind him. Sure enough, there were four figures going at it in the street not to far behind him, though perhaps that was an inaccurate description. Three figures were all ganging up on the fourth, swinging kicks and pipes and other improvised weapons.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

If there was one thing that Hannibal could not stand, it was a damsel in distress. He could not abide such ridiculous gang violence against any woman. For some reason this didn’t apply to men unless they paid. Hannibal would never be fully sure when this line of sexist thought became ingrained into him. He found it a touch hypocritical. Don’t get him wrong, if he saw a man in the same level of distress as this woman currently was, he would have helped. Probably.

There was just something specifically deplorable about it happening to a woman. Hannibal activated his night-vision optics to get a better view and gave a muffled snort of surprise. It was a Chiss! A Chiss woman! It was no secret to those who knew him that somewhere along the line Hannibal Oryen had come down with a case of blue-fever. That was most likely the reason behind his support for Hegemonic Automaton’s outreach to the Chiss Ascendancy.

“Sons of a...” Hannibal muttered, sweeping up his rifle and taking aim. “Hey, chitbirds!”

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

A DIGRESSION CONCERNING THE IDENTITIES & RELATIONS OF THOSE INVOLVED (1)

It is important, the author should like to point out at this juncture, that Hannibal has had no prior contact with any of the aforementioned four (4) individuals currently engaged in this scuffle. Indeed, this is the first time that Hannibal has encountered any of them. The author will now digress into the identities of the three individuals leading the assault against the fourth, so as to expunge any accusations that may be levied concerning Hannibal having any previous connection to them.

The fourth individual shall have his identified expounded upon in the second post following this one. Given the premise of the Isotope-5 challenge, which is kindly illustrated here for all to see, it is again the solemn duty of this author to point out that this fourth individual (that Hannibal is now arriving to the aid explicitly) is of no relation to him. Neither party has ever encountered the other up until this particular point in time.

Ergo, being that Hannibal has now sacrificed his credit chip haul to come to the aid of this mysterious fourth individual, the most basic prerequisites of the Isotope-5 Challenge have thus been met. However, the author is not so gauche as to leave this level of sacrifice here, for Hannibal will sacrifice much more than his credit chips in the ensuing posts.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

A DIGRESSION CONCERNING THE IDENTITIES & RELATIONS OF THOSE INVOLVED (2)

Of the four individuals, the first is the Weequay. His name being Kauhan and his business being that of a mugger. When anarchy did descend upon this unsuspecting city, Kauhan was already quite well equipped for the onslaught. His life was a hardened one and in the collapse of the city’s law enforcement he did profit well. It was on this night where he and his two (2) associates were on patrol that they happened upon the fourth individual and opted to enter hostilities.

Kauhan had to turn to face the approaching individual that had called him a chitbird. He had not seen this individual prior to this sudden confrontation and would see nothing else ever again, as a blaster bolt did strike him between the eyes at that very moment- rendering him deceased. His lifeless corpse did fall backwards, pinning the fourth individual underneath Kauhan’s weight.

The second and third individuals were the associates of Kauhan, the Seitz Brothers. They were a notorious duo even before the city did fall into anarchy. Their tendency to enter long, hallucinatory rages only heightened their desire to break things. People, property, animals, you name it. If it has at any point been made material on this plane of existence, the Seitz Brothers had likely attempted to inflict grievous physical injury upon it. Morgan Seitz was enraged by the death of Kauhan, as the Weequay had often provided the brothers with Glitterstim, of which they were frequent users. Morgan’s rage was short lived, as before he could close the distance between him and his assailant, he too was struck by several blaster bolts across his neck and chest.

Rorge Seitz immediately forgot any familial relation he had with Morgan and turned to flee, dropping the pipe he had been using. It is the sad life of a drug addict and vagrant to engage in such low behavior and then flee in the face of justice (whatever form it may take) rather than try to avenge his fallen comrades. It is also a short-lived life, as Rorge was soon thereafter struck twice by blaster bolts, one into the small of his back and the other the back of his skull, thus rendering him to a state similar to both Kauhan and Morgan: Dreadfully, dreadfully, dead.

Which is a state also shared by this digression, as it has now concluded.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

Hannibal ejected the spent powercell from his blaster rifle and slammed in a new one. The Weequay’s corpse began twitching and squirming- not of its accord but because the Chiss dame currently pinned beneath it was trying to get out. Ever the heroic, Hannibal shoved the corpse off of the damsel with his foot, allowing her to stand up. Or, as Hannibal quickly discovered, him. And this was no Chiss, but a Pantoran!

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” The Pantoran, decidedly male and with shoulder-length hair, bombarded Hannibal with accolades as he brushed himself off and tried to fix his hair. “Those thugs, ruffians, I tell you! Who knows what they would have done to me if you hadn’t come along!”

This Pantoran was also rather effeminate. Hannibal had no problem with this except in the fact that he had been mislead. This was not a mistake that could take place during the waking hours, but it did leave Hannibal stunned and silent- for the moment anyway. Sedgewick continued. “I’m Sedgewick, by the way. I’m in your debt, stranger. I was just trying to get to my father’s home, because-”

“Man. I thought I was rescuin’ a dame.”

Sedgewick narrowed his eyes. “You only rescued me because you thought I was a woman?”

“No! I just ‘appened t’ mistake ya for a-”

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

“This is so typical.” Sedgewick snarled, cutting an angry path down the street. “This is the exact kind of man-hating our society has fallen to.”

Hannibal followed after Sedgewick, at this point as an obligation. As mentioned before, Hannibal would have likely rescued the besieged Pantoran regardless of his gender affiliation, or even lack thereof. But now there was a feeling that he had erred egregiously by mistaking the Pantoran’s gender and remarking upon it. This feeling is what ultimately led Hannibal to assume the burden of escorting Sedgewick to his safe haven of choice. Strange, since Hannibal didn't normally get these feelings, but there was hardly anything better for him to do.

Sedgewick cast an angry glance behind him after the Fondorian delivered another lethal shot to someone with a vibroknife that had been approaching. “Why are you still following me?”

“Escortin’, more like.” Another powercell expended and then replaced. “An’ I, uh, feel bad f’ mis-”

“Great, so now I’ve got to guilt people into doing the right thing if there’s not a woman involved! This is exactly why I became a Meninist.”

Hannibal had no idea what that was, and so continued to follow in relative silence- save for the occasional blaster bolt he fired.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

A DIGRESSION CONCERNING SACRIFICE

Now, by escorting our Pantoran compatriot, Sedgewick, through the city, it is important to note that this was an act of sacrifice on the part of one Hannibal Oryen. This is a highly important point of the material the reader is currently indulging in because it is the source of the narrative through which the restricted material Isotope-5 will be derived for use in the major project of a company known as “Hegemonic Automaton.”

Sacrifice, as defined by many a reputable source, is “an act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy.” In this case Hannibal Oryen was sufficiently moved by the plight of Sedgewick that he gave up his night of looting (which why he finds fun the author cannot adequately ascertain) to instead escort this man- this total stranger -through the streets of a dangerous city- putting himself at great peril in doing so.

There is little to be gained by Hannibal Oryen here, and in escorting Sedgewick he has been forced to abandon the sack of credits he originally procured and also abandon any plans to further increase his haul of loot. Thus, a sacrifice of the personal nature has transpired. While it is certainly not to be considered one of major import, it is a sacrifice nonetheless, and thus all obligations for the procurement of Isotope-5 have been fulfilled.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

Several hours did pass, and the sun did begin to rise over the city as military forces moved in to reestablish some semblance of order. It was by this time that Sedgewick did arrive at the abode of his father, Hannibal leading him up to the gates personally. In thanks for escorting him through the city, Sedgewick awarded Hannibal with a distasteful glare and the title of “misandrist chitlord” before slamming the door in Hannibal’s face.

The temptation to kick down the door of the home, shoot out Sedgewick’s kneecaps, and take anything of value was high, but by this point Hannibal was incredibly exhausted and low on ammo. This low level of ammunition would leave him rather imperiled on the trek back to where he had hidden his ship. Oh well. At the end of the day, all that mattered was that Hannibal had done the right thing. Perhaps for the wrong reasons, perhaps for little to no personal gain (which usually went against his code of conduct), but the right thing nonetheless.

And although Hannibal did not know it, his personal sacrifice here today had been at the behest of a great cause. The cause of a development thread which would bestow a much needed resource on a much needed technology submission for a much needed tier advancement. Truly no greater a price had ever been paid for a feature so inconsequential. The author himself did weep bitter, angry tears over this realization that in excess of two thousand words had been spent on something that would, ultimately, amount to nothing more than fluff.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

This post intentionally left blank for artistic purposes. It will be filled later.​