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Murderer's Row; Legends in the making
Topic Started: Jun 15 2008, 06:51 PM (2,932 Views)
~The Boss~
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Native Son

(OOC: 9 years prior to Corruption: The Aftermath)

The message was brief as it was vague, remarkable less for its contents than for who the message was from. After all, it wasn't every day one was contacted by the most secretive division in the GFed Police - and quite possibly the entire Federation.

Quote:
 
Galactic Federation Police
Section 6

The Federation requests your assistance in a highly sensitive operation. Report to the GFS Hydra at these coordinates on March 5 at 0800 for more information. Please use discretion upon arrival.

J. Fiore
Deputy Director, Section 6


Rather than simply sending it out to just about everyone listed in the Hunter's Guild database, the message was delivered only to a select few bounty hunters, as was the usual practice with Section 6. They were very particular as to who they invited to join a mission. Also per standard operating procedure, there was no mention of a salary. There would be plenty of time to talk dollars and cents once the hunters arrived at their destination.

The coordinates posted at the bottom of the message were to Alpheus III, a dusty backwater moon populated almost entirely by miners and military. The Hydra would be parked in orbit, waiting for it's guests. Just another naval ship at a moon full of them.

The mission was about to begin.
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~Twilight~
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Just... Kind of out there...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
OOC: If this is a problem just tell me, I actually have no clue how this would work xD

"Ok.. Thats one more message sent, there!" A human woman in her mid-twenties said as she pressed a button on her desk display. She was a secretary working for some higher up in the galactic federation, and right now she had been tasked with sending various messages out to certain Bounty Hunters by Section 6.

"Ok, so whos next? Hmm, 'Twilight Ays'.. lets see here now..." She said quietly to herself as she opened a list of all Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries registered by the GF, figuring it would be easy to find someone calling himself Twilight she made a quick search. 'Ok, that should be it, now insert the message... Aaand there we go. Should be right, I mean how many gun-totting idiots named something stupid as Twilight can there be?'

---

*Bing* (get me a sound effect guy!)

A message popped up on the main display of the dark interior of a strange ship, floating somewhere in space. Even though the screen should have illuminated the rest of the room which it resided in the darkness seemed to consume it before it could pass mere inches from the screen. With the single exception of what appeared to be a crystal embedded in the chest plate of a dark purple colored federation armor which laid in the seat infront of the screen, the light from the crystal glowing brightly in the dim darkness.

"Hssss..." Seeped through the helmet of the federation armor as it sat upright, it was none other than Twilight, one of the last remaining Ing, and a survivor of Aether. Of course he believed himself to be the last. As he sat up completely he leaned closer to the screen, tapping a button on the command console, bringing the full message up. It seemed to be a mission request by a "Section 6" of the Galactic Federation, although according to the message it was addressed to a "Twilight Ays", probably just a paperwork error.

And with that he set the coordinates for Alpheus III, and shortly thereafter the black ship disappeared in a flash of light.
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~Bloody Pom~
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Somewhere else in the depths of space, another ship had received a message. The ship was unlike anything seen before, matching no known configuration. Within the vessel, the lone occupant's eyes opened as the cockpit was bathed in a pale blue glow, a chime echoing through the ship's interior. The light revealed the creature's form: completely alien, unlike any known race. The being's face lacked a mouth, a nose and even ears, simply a pair of glowing cyan eyes. from the back of its head, long, leathery tendrils hung down, reaching the alien's waist.

A stranger from another universe, trapped in a foreign land. A Protoss.

Alien characters flitted across the screen, arranging themselves into a message that the being examined for a short while, his eyes narrowing as a hand tipped with three long digits rose and tapped his chin.

Leaning forward, the Protoss reached forward and tapped the holographic screen a few times, and a computerised, male voice resounded through the vessel.

"Tachyon coil generation sequence initiated. Destination: Planet Alpheus III."

On the exterior of the ship, three small lights appeared, one at the tip of each of the ship's three blade-like hull sections. Dim at first, the lights grew brighter until they were almost blindingly radiant. Suddenly, three beams shot out and focused on a single point. As soon as they met, the space at the point seemed to fold and distort, creating a portal-like phenomenon. The ship lunged forward, disappearing into a tunnel of faster-than-light particles, accelerating into nothingness.

((I suppose I should explain. Because of Asakero's ship's alien nature, it doesn't use a Jump engine like other vessels. Rather, it creates a temporary 'wormhole' of tachyons, accelerating the ship to many times the speed of light. It's slightly slower, but unlike Jump engines the distance travelled can be changed, and it doesn't require as long of a charging time.))
"A battle for supremacy against many foes is a battle of the best kind. There are few considerations, only those concerning where to place your next shot. It is war in its purest form." - Commander Karziel, Ultramarines 5th Company

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+CEMP+
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Clockwork Master

(OOC: NUCLEAR POST DETECTED!!)

The man sat on his chair, his legs raised upon the ship's console lazily. He looked to be around his fifties, his face just growing a new beard after the last one had been shaved. His body was rather short and stout, which was one of the reasons why he could lift his legs onto the console with the chair so close. His dirty brown hair was a curly mess, and his brown eyes seem to match right with them. The vest he wore looked aged and a bit torn, as well as his pants.

All in all, he didn't like very much; and he preferred that it way. Alson Dufion liked, no, loved surprising people a lot, and even with some of the more experienced professionals, he could always brings something out in a way that they never saw coming.

And it wasn't just in terms of hiding bullet proof and energy resistant armor under a ragtety tag vest that could be so surprising about him either. It was his gut instinct that made him such a veteran bounty hunter; of course, it wasn't perfect, but that was where experience and other skills came in. A lot of times it save his skin, gave him the feeling that a threat was creeping up behind his back.

Many people, in disbelief, wondered and asked how his 'gut' actually worked, and he simply replied with his favorite cliché: "Magic!" One pretty, red-headed lass actually attempted to make her own deduction that he was simply being intuitive with everything his brain took in, from the obvious to the almost miniscule sound. Hell, like he knew how his gut worked - oh, there was the pretty lass now, he thought with a smile!

"I see you finally woke up, sleepy head," he greeted with a chuckle, without even turning around to face her. His voice had a slight Scottish accent to it.

The "Young Grasshopper" merely replied, "Oh screw off, you're not being very professional yourself either by sitting on your ass like that."

Alson laughed, "That I am, Jenosa, or maybe I just want someone to think I'm not a professional." One of his legs shifted and hit a button.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Alson spun around in his chair easily, thanks to his short size, and pointed his hand at the long red-haired, green eyed, just-entering-her-twenties woman who had fallen to the floor thanks to a hydraulic, sliding chair. She was attempting to do the same with her hand, but was too late.

"Bang!"

The red head sighed, knowing that she had lost, and asked, “So tell me, what did I miss this time.”

“Well,” Alson commented slowly as he got up and walked up to help her back to her feet, “you might first try to get a good idea of your surroundings. Even the stuff that doesn’t look hazardous, like that chair that’s tougher than you, can prove to be your salvation or you’re undoing. You just gotta know the right way to ‘swing’ it.”

As Alson pulled the young Jenosa up, his eyes came across her face. Despite her lose and facial expression, she still held that energetic, enthusiastic, adventurous spirit in her eyes and face since he first met her; even though she had been given a black eye and quite a bit of beating then.

Alson could still vividly remember coming across her. It was the sound of fighting that got his drew his attention to look down an alley where he found her defending herself against a couple of those streets ruffians; forget a couple; more like a group. He had guessed it was the “Group of men picking on the lone woman” situation; but this woman was sissy prass, oh no. She had actually put up a good fight despite her obviously being less strong than any of the men; she had knocked two of them out, although how he didn’t ask.

However, she was sorely outnumbered, and it was probably around the time she had finally lost consciousness that he had spotted her. At which, she must had done something to really piss them off, because they were beating her unconscious body with a vengeance. He felt the need to act, and thankfully these were just ruffians and not gang members, who usually totted guns; it was easy to just get their attention and wave the pistol in the air without having to actually do anything at all.

Spooked, and swearing as they scattered, Alson picked up the tough lass and had brought her to his ship to fix her up (Thank god for medi lasers). He still found himself amazed that he had picked up such a tough but pretty woman; and found himself admiring such mix of attributes while she still looked like an ordinary civilian. She must have read his thoughts when she woke up, though, as she was immediately apprehensive of him. “How do I know you aren’t some sick guy healing me to simply have my skin at its ‘finest’ for when you’re fingers go all over me?”

Although he was a little taken back by this (And, in fact, felt a bit insulted, but didn’t act on impulse, as, deep down, he understood her actions), he replied with a chortled laugh. “’Ach, ma’am, if I did that, then I give you sweet permission to kick me in the family jewels to teach me an ‘oh lesson.”

Although apprehensive as first, Jenosa began to slowly warm up to him as she recovered from the rest of her injuries (Since his medi laser was on low batteries). Merely acting out of good will and not wanting her on his ship for too long, Alson quickly went to asking a few questions. In particular, “Where do you live?” “What’s your name?” and so on.

The little interrogation didn’t tell him much other than she was a run away, although why, he didn’t know. He could only guess the clichéd “abusive parents” deal; and she obviously didn’t want to go home (Good thing he didn’t bring her to a hospital). Thus, he discussed with her that once fully recovered, he’d let her off wherever she wanted; heck, he even felt like giving her a bit of money just to get her started on whatever life she wanted.

However, by pure, diabolical coincidence (Or fate), it seemed that a certain group of people were out to get Alson. Turned out one of his bounties was also a very close buddy of their, and they must have taken this loss quite personally to know who he was and just where to track him. They probably would have succeeded, but apparently they expected Alson to play his cards alone.

In fact, he expected himself to be doing that, but to his surprise (And despite the fact that he had told her several times to run the hell out or hide), that woman, inexperienced as she was, had risked her own goddamn life to save his. She had risked her life for that of a complete stranger that she had barely trusted (Well, she must of had one hell of a revelation only a few moments ago).

In the end, though, he was thankful for her assistance. Her presence had given the attacking group a small surprise, but a surprise that was able to tip the battle just enough to his favor. Having escaped death by a hair, they both lay slumped on the wall, beside one another, and Alson then asked, “Why…why did y-

“Because I want to stay.”

He blinked, bemused, “You wha…?”

“I said I want to stay; with you, on this ship.”

“Hey whoa,” Alson protested, “you’re not-

“Yes I am, and…” she began crying, spilling her life right before him. She had actually started out with fairly nice parents, ones, by the way she described them, you wouldn’t believe most people would run away from. However, everything had recently gone into an emotional turmoil with her family, which was one of the reasons why she left. Aside from her phys-ed courses, which she excelled in, she was practically failing everything else. This was mostly because she lacked the motivation, and it hurt to just try and do her homework.

Her parents kept telling her that the only way to get a job and have a good life was to finish her courses in high school; and that her unknown “Dream profession” would be known to her as she explored college. She had no idea what she wanted to be, even when she was young; in fact, when she was young, she just wanted to have her own kind of ‘fun’ from then to her future.

It seemed that a part of this childish aspect had stayed with her as she grew up. When she was young, she hated it when her parents confined her to the house hold when she couldn’t be supervised outside. She loved romping out in the mountainous area outside of their home; although as she grew up, she understood why they worried for her in such a dangerous place. Even still, this pet peeve easily translated to her school life; as her frustration slowly built up during her the days that she was largely ‘confined’ to just a single building or two for almost 24/7, not doing anything but school work. She was, in Alson’s words, rebellious of her school life

Having dealt with too many harmful emotions from constantly arguing it with her family, she had finally given her hard-thought decision in “going away.” This happened shortly before he met Alson, who had given him a taste of what it is like to be a bounty hunter. Alson was not only incredulous at her wanting to stay, but as at here wanting to take up the profession. She explained to him one of the reasons that one of the reason she enjoyed romping about that mountainous home of her was the actual ‘feel’ of danger; the adrenaline it provided her in her teens. She loved the pulse of adrenaline inside her veins coupled with a strong sense of freedom; rarely ever having to take orders from anyone.

She had realized during her stay that this was wanted she wanted to be; that this, indeed, “fitted her strong and tough spirit” from Alson’s point of view. Everything else she could be was non-existent.

Having been convinced (And being grateful for saving his ass), she opted to train her up until she was experienced enough to fend for herself. At first he had told her not to come with him on most of his bounties (Although there were times when she disobeyed him). However, this next bounty would be her big day, and really, he knew she was going to be frustrated in staying. Besides, she knew full well what she was getting into.

And on they went to Alpheus III.
"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death."
— Monty Oum
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+Lt. Jessie+
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Jibbering, Troublemaking Ball of Fluff

((OOC: This is going to be very interesting... XD))

A man in his early 30s sat in his hangar, staring at the terminal screen as he waited patiently. It was a late night in the seaside city of Port Town, the dark pinpricked sky kissing the shimmering ocean on the horizon. The metropolis glittered like a gem on black velvet in the distance, a city where there was something always happening somewhere, either good or bad.

The cup of coffee grew cold as a gentle breeze blew by, the terminal humming before it began to beep. Opening a tired eye, he caught sight of the message he had been waiting for a long time. Quickly typing in his access code, he opened the sealed letter and read it quietly to himself. A smile appeared on his lips as he nodded and proceeded to print out the message. Sealing it in an envelope, he placed it near the keyboard where he knew his partner would find it.

As he was about to get up, another message appeared in his inbox, this time from a rather unknown source, at least one he was not familiar with. Raising a brow, he opened the message looked it over.

Quote:
 
Galactic Federation Police
Section 6


The Federation requests your assistance in a highly sensitive operation. Report to the GFS Hydra at these coordinates on March 5 at 0800 for more information. Please use discretion upon arrival.

J. Fiore
Deputy Director, Section 6

Hmm…

For a while, he stared at the message and thought about it. His partner was just starting the whole bounty hunting business and would need some more experience, especially after the first major solo mission to Aether. He was certain that the time spent thereafter was adequate enough for recovery, at least physically. Mentally, he was not too sure, but he felt it was enough. After all, even Dr. Lam and Dr. Stewart said she was all right to go back to work, not to mention perhaps even go back to training for the races. With it being pre-season now, however, he was a bit skeptical about accepting this mission. Pulling up the calendar, he began to go through the schedule. They had just come back from a race, which meant he had two weeks before the next one. Then again, with the ‘highly sensitive’ part tacked on, he began to have second thoughts.

“What do you think, Raptor?” he asked his pet. “Think we should take this?”

The bird, perched on his artificial branch, trilled sharply. The man turned and nodded, printing out the paper and pinning it on his wall as the system began to close the hangar doors and set the security. The man locked up the terminal and went out to walk on the beach before heading into the house. Footsteps fell quietly as he made his way across the tiled floor, stopping in front of a door. He opened it gently to peek in.

It was a fair-sized bedroom lined with shelves on one side while posters were pasted in just about every possible area. For now, a small blue orb glowed on the shelf, the only source of light in the dark room. He could make out the bed in the corner, a large lump under the covers. He tiptoed towards the bed and looked at the occupant. With a soft chuckle, he pulled the fallen sheet over the form and stepped back out, heading into his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the crack of dawn, the man was already up and about, fixing up the Falcon Flyer while loading the supplies. His partner groaned as he watched her come in.

“…Falcon…” she mumbled. “Why are you up this early…? Are we on assignment already…?”

“Some group called Sector 6 wants to commission us, and the meeting is in a few hours,” he replied as he hefted a box over his shoulders. “Oh yeah, there’s a letter for you on the terminal.”

She rubbed her face as the cool air touched her body, causing her to shiver. Grabbing a coat from the hanger and a pair of flip-flops, she slipped these articles on rather sloppily.

“…Really…?” came a murmured yawn. “…From who…?”

“Just open it,” he chuckled. “You’ll find that it’ll wake you up.”

The young hunter stumbled to the terminal and collapsed into the chair, obvious that she was not all there with the way she was sitting against her wings. She reached lazily for the envelope and took a knife to it, just barely missing her finger when she pulled out the letter. Falcon began to take note his partner’s little quirks. He already knew that she was quite the oddball at times, especially early morning, but when he noticed that she was quick to reach for the knife, which he never saw her pick up before, he found it a bit quite odd. Then he just brushed the idea back. Perhaps it was just a minor change to her routine or something, trying something a little different. Then again, he began to wonder why she asked him to pick up a set of throwing daggers that one day. Perhaps she just wanted to be more prepared, but why daggers…? That he would address some other time.

Opening it up and smoothing it out, she began to read the message. Her eyes slowly widened as she started to smile ear to ear. Before he knew it, she was in the air, flapping her wings happily while the letter became a crushed lump. After a few minutes to happy trilling, she settled down on the parallel bar set and giggled happily as she looked over the note again.

“I passed!!!” she squealed, hugging the letter while hanging upside down. “All that practice finally paid off!!!”

“Yep, and with a near perfect also,” Falcon added as he produced a black matte box. “Though I do have to wonder how you missed that last target…”

“Something distracted me…” she whined. “But I promise not to do that on the field!”

“If that is the case, then to congratulate, I thought I’d give this to you…”

The girl flipped off the bar and landed next to Falcon, reaching out and opening the box. Inside, snuggly fitted into the foam core, was a brand new gun, a sniper rifle to be exact. She picked up the pieces one by one and deftly put them together as she was trained to do, but as she hefted it, she found that it was much lighter than the one she was tested with.

“That is the FSRS48A-R2 AM Sniper Rifle,” Falcon explained. “It is far lighter than the FSRS48C-R2 AM Sniper Rifle, and the rounds it uses are smaller in caliber. I know you told me that your shoulder hurts from firing the large gun, so I thought it would be best if I got you the lighter variant with a lower recoil until I can find someone who can customize you a nicer one.”

With the hangar doors opened, she loaded a single shot and aimed at the tree. It took a while for her to readjust the scope, but once she did, she sighted in on the target and fired. The shot was clean as Falcon stepped out to look at the round.

“Looks like you did well, Jessie,” he chuckled, poking a finger into the hole. “So, you want to join in?”

“On?”

“The meeting I’m going to. It’d give you some more experience.”

Jessie thought about this for a few minutes. She was just recovering from her previous mission, but even then, she had rethought about her skills, wishing deep inside that she could be better. She cleaned the rifle and put it away.

“Well?”

Without a word, the girl closed the case and went to her side of the hangar, pulling out her duffle bag of weapons and clothes. She turned to face the Falcon Flyer and stood at the ramp of the blue and gold craft.

“I’m ready when you are, bro.”

With a nod, he too grabbed his pack and jumped into the cockpit after stashing away his materials as she strapped herself into the co-pilot seat. Within a few minutes, they were in the air and with the coordinates locked, they headed for Alpheus III.
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+Aiko+
Roffel House!

(OOC: OMG Teaser!)

Stars stabbed interstellar space, tiny beacons of unwavering light passing unhindered through the void. Out here, the universe sang in wavelengths. Radiation was music, from the bass of the x-ray to the high soprano of ultraviolet, and photons were the notes written upon the score. To those sensitive to the ebb and flow of energy, space was as loud as a concert hall, throbbing with the even beats of pulsars and the near infinite other tunes whistling in the vacuum.

Human ears were deaf to the song of space, their perceptions limited by the crude and unwieldy tools that distorted and transformed the music into a loud, unceremonious cacophony.

But there was another sort of music that sang through the very tools humans had created. And, unlike the music of God’s universe, this song was created and written by Man. One only needed to know the notes to understand the score.

Mark Chastain was a brilliant computer specialist. The music of the artificial universe was his to compose and edit. He was the Mozart of his time, and his talents had not gone unnoticed. His passion for the networks was nearly psychotic. Many thought he had implants to assist him, but his mind was his own personal computer. The unit that allowed him to connect to his world was a smallish thing, a laptop that was as unremarkable at first glance as Mark Chastain himself. However, his precious Eurynome, named after the Greek goddess of creation who rose from chaos and birthed worlds and creatures from the universal egg, was as much a lover as a partner. He talked with her, shared his innermost secrets and desires with her, and she showed him her universe as his reward.

Money was important, for Eurynome was always hungry. To feed her unquenchable thirst for perfection, to acquire perfect pitch with her universe, Mark had accepted the most terrible of jobs.

Hacker.

The word was an epithet to him, a discord in the harmony of his life. For years he had served the greedy and discontent, growing rich off the spoils. But even he, in his autistic single-mindedness, had realized that what he was doing was wrong.

He didn’t feel regret. He couldn’t. But the music told him that he needed to change his ways, even though he knew his betrayal could end the music forever.
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~The Boss~
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Native Son

"Agent McManus," Admiral Owens said, greeting Section 6's man with a powerful fist pump. "Welcome aboard the Hydra. What have you got there?"

"It's a gift from Chief Oakley," McManus said, handing the Admiral a flat wooden box. "Those are genuine Cuban cigars, Admiral, direct from the mother planet."

Admiral Owens took one of the cigars and took in the smooth aroma. It was definitely a high quality smoke. "Well, you let Chief Oakley know that I appreciate this," he said, clipping the tip with a cigar cutter he kept in his desk drawer and firing up the stogie.

"Actually, it's her way of saying thanks. I know the relationship between the military and the police isn't always the smoothest, and unfortunately my division seems to often be at the center of things." McManus took a seat across from Owens at his desk. "She's grateful to you for allowing us to use your ship as a staging area for this mission."

"Well, the pleasure's all mine. At the end of the day, we're all on the same side, and I want to see criminals brought to justice just as much as you do."

Owens regarded Agent McManus with a curious eye. He didn't have a lot of experience with Agents. He knew that they were the GFed's most elite police personnel. Part investigator, part cybernetically-enhanced supercop, they were in some ways the police answer the the navy's own Spartans, only in suits and jackets instead of high-powered armor. Based on that, Owens expected McManus to act cold and mechanical like a Spartan. The Agent was mild-mannered for sure, but he was friendly, engaging, and even smiled.

"So," the Admiral continued, "about how many bounty hunters are we talking about here?"

"Not many," McManus replied. "Only a handful. We were very selective about who we contacted. Only about a dozen hunters in all, but we only expect about half of that to actually show up. I can assure you that they won't be aboard for very long, and they won't interfere while they're here."

McManus knew that, as tense as the crew was around he and his fellow agents, they'd be even worse - if not outright hostile - in the presence of bounty hunters. There were a few big names who were trusted, and you might find one or two who might have served with a particular hunter way back when, and thus vouched for him or her to the rest of the crew. But for the most pat they were thought of as brigands. A necessary evil to protect the galaxy from even more toxic scum.

Owens nodded, accepting the Agent's word.

"Now this kid Chastain... do your boys actually know where he is?"

"We believe he is on the planet," McManus answered. "But we can't be certain."

Admiral Owens shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. He had printed out the file on Mark Chastain earlier. As the senior officers, only he and Captain Navarro had access to the mission files, which were classified top secret.

"Here it is," he said, finally finding the file. "I remember him when he attacked FCC. He's supposed to be like an idiot-savant, correct?"

"That's a bit of a harsh way of putting it. He's not mentally retarded. He has some communication issues, but make no mistake about it, the kid's a genius. He could take down this entire ship with nothing but a phone in his hand.

"When we find him, we'll bring him back here for questioning. Now obviously, if we manage to turn Savage Henry's men away he's not going to give up just like that. We may need an escort back to HQ."

"Well unfortunately, I won't be able to make the Hydra available for that task, but I have plenty of other ships in my fleet. I'll arrange whatever measures you need to keep the package secure."

"We appreciate that, Admiral."
Edited by The Boss, Jul 1 2008, 03:42 PM.
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~Deadly Aim~
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Quote:
 
Galactic Federation Police
Section 6

The Federation requests your assistance in a highly sensitive operation. Report to the GFS Hydra at these coordinates on March 5 at 0800 for more information. Please use discretion upon arrival.

J. Fiore
Deputy Director, Section 6


(Funny they would want to contact me... I'm still getting the hang of this lifestyle.)

The young man yawned as he thought the request over, leaning back in his chair in front of the console. It hadn't been very long; he had just recently made it big as a hunter in terms of recognition, but he still found himself thinking more like a military Commando than a Bounty Hunter. The change was still taking a bit to get used to. He was used to a life with more discipline and orderliness of tasks; but now, he had to make quite a few more choices.

He sighed, gazing up at the ceiling; how could he ever forget that experience, really? The mission to Nuyai Prime would be one to stay with him for the rest of his days. His thoughts turned to his friends and comrades; those that survived and those that lost their lives on that wilderness world. He remembered the creatures, the mostly sleepless nights in the jungles, the rations they scantly ate to stay alive and aloft...

And then, of course, there was *them*. Images of smoldering yellow eyes and energy scythes were well engraved in the mind of Travis "Deadeye" Clark, former Galactic Federation Commando Elite and now rookie Bounty Hunter. The Zebeth Armada had taken to disrupting Nuyai Prime's rich resources, and Travis' platoon had been sent to stop them. Unfortunately, the start of the mission put the Commandoes in a serious disposition; not only had they lost their ship, but they were in the middle of the massive jungles with friendly civilization few and far between.

And, not to mention, there were quite a few ambushes by the pirates... it was remarkable how the commandoes managed to win every battle and much less *survive*. And not to mention - he rather reviled the Zebesian armada in general for his own reasons. Travis began to ponder this, only to be interrupted.

[SIR, WILL YOU BE ACCEPTING THE MISSION?] Came the artificial, mechanized voice of the ship's computer, bringing the bounty hunter back to reality.

It was then from the rumble of his stomach that Travis realized he had not even had breakfast yet.

"Hmm..." The young man said, with a pause as he focused his thoughts. "Well... I know it's probably not the best idea since I'm still getting the hang of this, but yes. I will. Also, computer?"

[YES, SIR?] The disembodied voice said again.

"Would you start cooking some scrambled eggs with some toast, please?" Travis asked, sitting back up from his reclined position and standing up.

[YES SIR. WOULD YOU PREFER ANYTHING ON THE TOAST?]

"Jelly."

[VERY WELL THEN, SIR. ANYTHING ELSE?]

"Yes," The hunter continued. "Start prepping the Arctic Storm for a jump run to these coordinates after I have my breakfast. I want to get there A.S.A.P."

[YES, SIR.]
Edited by Deadly Aim, Jul 1 2008, 11:50 AM.
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Jibbering, Troublemaking Ball of Fluff

((OOC: Hope this works for you, Jefe))

Within the Falcon Flyer, there was a rather hyper Jessie sitting on her makeshift hammock while an annoyed Falcon sat at the cockpit. The young lieutenant had been hammering him with all sorts of questions when they first left orbit, and was still doing so as they entered the system Alpheus III was in. Questions from filtering missions to choosing the right one came up, along with the right tools, as well as what to do if unexpected things came up. For a while, it was actually quiet and he had gotten back to working with his weapons contractor. Jessie had fallen asleep with the box clutched in hand, a rather amusing sight on his part, as she was usually snuggled with a pillow or her plushie of a brother. Where she managed to get that he had to wonder, but some questions were better left unanswered. He turned to face the screen.

“Honorable Siam…” Falcon greeted as an old man appeared on the screen. “And how are you this day?”

“If it isn’t the young Master Douglas, it has been a while, hasn’t it? How may I be of service?”

The captain typed up a quick letter and sent the results of Jessie’s shooting test. A smile began to play on the elder’s face.

“Ah, so the young miss has earned her falcon’s eye?”

“Think you can make something for her?”

A brow was raised at the request as Siam turned on his other computer, starting up a new project file.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, smoothing his long white beard. “What is she using right now?”

“The FSRS48A-R2 AM.”

Siam shuddered a bit at the mention of the weapon. To him, it was the most inferior of all known Federation sniper rifle systems. For something so lightweight, they had not taken into consideration what was needed to balance it out. They wanted to keep the same amount of power that the other rifles used, but to do so, the user would end up feeling very sore before finishing a clip.

“Hmm… Knowing her skeletal structure, her small body is going to be shaken quite a bit. I’ll see what I can do, alright? And once it’s done, I’ll be sure to let you know. Ah yes, I also wanted you to know that the parts you ordered for Night Kestrel are almost done. We’re running some final tests on it, but for the most part, it will be done within the week.”

“Thank you, Siam. I’ll be around to pick them up probably next week. You’ve been of great help.”

The old man nodded just as he turned off the communications. He then heard a small murmur and turned to look at Jessie as she sat up and fiddled with her sniper.

“You know, it’s best to keep the sniper in your box until you’re ready to use it, and I don’t think we’re going to be using it in space…” he muttered.

“I know, but I can’t stop looking at it! It’s my first very own sniper.”

Falcon sighed as they approached GFS Hydra. It was just like when she was allowed to pilot Silver Falconite for the first time ever: overly-excited and nervous at the same time. Following docking protocols, they were escorted into the hangar while Jessie quickly pulled on the hologram clips for her wings. Aside from being at home and some missions, Jessie usually had her wings cloaked. She found it to be an intimidation factor that she did not want to use just quite yet, especially one with a meeting that took place on a Federation ship. With the covers in place, she looked in the mirror to fix her back area before stashing away her sniper into the weapons’ cache.

“Do we need to take in the firearms?” she asked, watching as he checked his pistol and returned it to the holster.

“No, just your pistol,” he replied. “Don’t want to bring too much that you’re going to be raising questions from everyone. You want at least some sort of weapon on you at all times for emergencies, perhaps for you, slip a dagger or two to hide in your wings.”

Jessie did as she was told, along with putting her gun in its place. She could barely contain her excitement as the hatch opened, revealing the dock. She chirped softly as her brother reached for his helmet and put it on, tightening the chinstrap as he walked down the ramp. She had learned that the best way to keep anonymous was hide the identity, but to her, it was a bit harder. She worked for Galaxy Police’s High Orbit, and of course, her face was seen before. However, wanting to follow her brother and learn from him the best she could, she too took her helmet and did the same, following behind him at a distance. She attracted some attention, but that thought was brushed away when the Federation troopers got a nasty glare from the captains on deck, both his superior and the hunter. Jessie held in a giggle and continued to tag after her brother, only to be brought into the main lobby of the ship.

“Now, be quiet and let me talk, ok?” he muttered as they were escorted to the door. “A hunter is calm when they respond no matter what the situation, especially when it comes to meeting the employers for the first time, got it? You need to make a good first impression, or else they will not take you so seriously.”

Jessie nodded as they stopped in front of a pair of guards. They were troopers to be exact, but they had more armor than the typical ones. She was slightly intimidated, but kept her face as straight as possible.

“Name and business?” one of the troopers croaked.

“Captain Falcon,” the man replied. “And this is my ward. We’re here to accept a mission from one of your employers who told us to meet him here.”

The trooper looked over to his partner, who nodded in reply. The doors opened and revealed the bridge, or to Jessie, a giant cockpit with more functions than one could shake a fist at. It reminded her of the now-wrecked Night Kestrel that was currently being rebuilt from the ground up. She took note of the placements of certain pieces of equipment and kept these in mind while taking in just the vastness of the ship. The only other large ship she was used getting aboard was High Orbit’s transporter, used whenever they needed to get the whole team to the race course on other planets.

A few moments later, they found themselves in a smaller room, a conference room of some sort to be exact.

“Wait here for the others,” the trooper replied. “Your employer will be here as soon as he is ready.”

Falcon nodded and turned to look at Jessie, who was taking in everything she saw. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle, yet firm, jolt.

“Calm down,” he whispered lowly so that only she could hear. “No need to be too excited… Now, what do you do when the employer comes in?”

“Let him get comfortable and let him speak first. It is better to wait then to jump the gun.”

“Right. Now sit down for now and try to relax? You seem about as uptight as the day of your first race.”

Jessie flushed slightly under the visor, but did as she was told, finding an empty seat and taking in a few deep breaths before finally calming down. As for the brother, he began to wonder what this mission was about. No talk of money, no mention of the target… He just hoped that this hunt would bring in quite a bit, especially to cover Night Kestrel’s expenses.
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~Bloody Pom~
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
In space, several miles from the Hydra, a tear seemed to form in the black void. Small at first, it soon collapsed to form the exit to the wormhole-like tunnel created by the Corsair at the other end. A few moments later, the dark-hued ship rocketed from the gateway, which quickly sealed itself behind the vessel. The ship continued at it's velocity for several seconds, until several streams of energy from the reverse thrusters brought it to a halt.

Onboard the ship, its lone occupant received the standard greeting from most Federation vessels.

"Unidentified vessel, this is the GFS Hydra. Transmit your identification code and state your business.

The lone Protoss tapped a few symbols on the ship's holo-display. Then he spoke, a clear, calm, slightly echoing voice.

"I received a message from a 'J. Fiore' requesting that I travel to this sector. I trust you are already expecting people to arrive?"

Smart-ass... thought the human, before replying. "Roger that. You're cleared for docking." he said in a slightly strained voice."

"Understood. Oh, and I heard that." If the Protoss had a mouth, he would have smirked.

Damn telepaths!

"And that."

The man on the other end of the comm swore under his breath.

--------------------

As the ship landed, Asakero rose from his seat, heading to the rear of the ship. On his way, he stopped to remove a strange staff from its pedestal. The moment it was free, the ends of the staff retracted into the handle, which he then attached to the silvery metal bracer on his right forearm.

Asakero began to leave the ship before the exit hatch had even finished opening. Looking around, he saw one other ship had already arrived, its two human occupants being escorted away by two troopers. He turned back to find himself facing two other troopers. Both approached, although one paused for a moment, having never seen anything like the Protoss before.

"Welcome aboard. State your name and your business."

The Protoss nodded to the one who had spoken, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. "Asakero. I received a message requesting I came to this vessel. I believe I'm expected?"

"Ah, yes. This way." replied the second trooper, and Asakero followed in their wake.

It took several minutes, but Asakero and the troopers eventually arrived at the conference room. "You're not the first to arrive. Your employer should be with you and the other two once the rest of the hunters arrive."

Nodding, the Protoss entered the room. Gaze darted to the two already inside. Nodding at them slowly, he made for one of the seats, although he paused when he saw they were a little small for his larger frame. Instead, he rested against the wall, stooping down into a more comfortable position, his extra height meaning his head was level with those of the two humans.

He would wait for them to make the first move. He had patience, unlike, it seemed, the human girl.
"A battle for supremacy against many foes is a battle of the best kind. There are few considerations, only those concerning where to place your next shot. It is war in its purest form." - Commander Karziel, Ultramarines 5th Company

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