Skyside 4

[Ashen Lilies]

[Tempest Row - Dizba the Hutt's Palace]

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<I say we strike immediately! Send out our mercenaries and show them what it means to cross the Hutts!> Said Torlux, waving his flabby arm in an almost energetic gesture of anger. To his left his translator droid relayed the message to the waiting table of twelve. Attila had one too, of course. Everyone at the table did, Hutt and Ferengi alike, but in Attila's case it was largely a ruse. He had taken the time long ago to learn the Ferengi's vile tongue. An effort that had served him well.

One of the Ferengi, a particularly noxious individual by the name of Gripak, laughed. <Yes, open war in the streets! And while we're throwing all of our resources at MERC, I'm sure the slavers, steam-barons, Dust guilds, and every other wretch in Tempest Row looking for a piece of us will sit idly by while we do it.> He said scornfully. <You're almost as dumb as you look, Hutt.>

As offensive as the Ferengi was, Attila had to agree, and raised a placating hand to calm the other Hutt's rising temper, once the translators had relayed the Ferengi's insults.

<But you must agree that we must set an example of MERC, surely.> He said. <If we let this... Dipsnig... this 'goblin'... move in on our holdings here, surely that will also send a message to Benedict Percival Paxton, Stone and Ishkur Sulayman that our territory is easy taking, to say nothing of the slavers.>

The Ferengi bristled. <Of course not. And I have a plan on how->

"Alliance." The third Hutt's voice was not raised, but the weight of his authority silenced the discussion in the room nevertheless. That, and his use of the Nexus Common, which everyone present knew of course, but had elected not to use, out of the same close-minded pride and xenophobia that Attila so detested in both species. It was a testament to the stress caused by the MERC situation that Dizba had chosen to break decorum. Attila would have almost respected Dizba for speaking directly, instead of hiding behind translator droids. Would have, had Dizba the Hutt, current head of the Ferengi-Hutt Tempest Row Alliance, not been the one person in the room Attila hated the most.

"The slavers, mages, and steamers will like MERC coming into Tempest Row as little as we do. This city is too small for all of us. They will agree that MERC must go.” He declared.

Torlux swelled up like a balloon. <Alliance?> He croaked. <With our competitors?>
<A dangerous notion.> Said Gripak.

Attila had to agree, though for different reasons. An alliance with the other Tempest Row factions against MERC would make the one between the Ferengi and Hutts stronger than ever. Such petty superficial differences that they had, they were still more similar to each other than they were to the likes of the steam ship barons or the magic using Dust peddlers. And a strong Hutt-Ferengi alliance, in Attila’s view, was bad for just about everyone, especially Attila and his business.

While the discussion continued, he schemed.

[The Raindrop District - Lucretia's Manse (The Real One)]

“Your concerns are all our concerns, Han the Greater.” Said Lucretia, trying and failing to keep the mockery out of the name. Han the Greater was anything but, of course. The oldest son of the venerable, yet unfortunately elderly Lord Han could, in another life, been a highly capable accountant. Maybe an actuary or lesser bureaucrat of some sort. But in lordly strengths and graces he was sorely lacking. Already his famous hair-trigger temper was approaching a low boil, triggered again by Lucretia’s slight jab after his impassioned rant on the events of the past day, though the content of her speech seemed to placate him just a little. “This mercenary scum is merely the latest indignity to grace our fair city’s decline into incivility and chaos. Surely, it’s our responsibility as the nobility to prevent our city from sliding further into the hands of these degenerates.”

Lucretia watched the faces of the nobles sitting around, nodding in agreement. Fools. As if Lucretia cared one bit about whether the city was ruled by riffraff or these chattering, self-important peacocks. So long as she kept her place just where it was. Only a few of the faces weren’t nodding, and Lucretia latched on to one of them, only to be interrupted by the bobbing bald spot of Han the Greater.

“I’m so pleased you side with us, Lady Lucretia.” He said, nodding repeatedly. “We are glad to have such a staunch ally as you.”

“Come now, must these parties be all politics?”

Ishkur Sulayman was a large man, sure, but size alone couldn’t describe the way he dominated the room, an aura of presence extending beyond his mere bulk, commanding attention with his broad, charming smile and the rich bass of his voice. To the untrained eye, he might fit right in with the crowd of affluence and indulgence Lucretia had gathered. His ebony skin shone underneath his brightly colored wax fabrics, and his beard and long dreadlocks were heavy with gold chains and scented oils. But Lucretia knew that under his pampered, princely visage was real power. Power that burned behind his fiery blue eyes, and crackled in the air around him like a storm cloud. A fine friend to have. Or a fearsome foe.

“Enough of this ‘MERC’ business. Wine all around, and be merry! Lucretia, your taste surpasses comprehension, my dear. One day you must tell us all the secret to your ability.”

“Why, Lord Ishkur, what can I say? It’s just a natural talent of mine.”

[The Cloudtops - Club Typhoon]

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The Professional was a consummate professional. That’s how he got the name, after all. And as a professional, the last place he expected to be would be here. A high class strip-club was still a strip-club as far as he was concerned, and not even the best in neomodernist aesthetic could disguise the fact that, at the end of the day, a bunch of grown men were throwing credit chips at half naked ladies gyrating on the stage. Including his boss.

The Professional sighed. Desperate times.

Leon Brightstar had declined in recent months. Not that he had ever been wholly admirable. As a twin he had always invited comparison. Physically he had always exceeded his sibling, of course. The other Brightstar, as a boy, had never been one for athletics. It was in the athletics of the mind that Leon had proven to be a disappointment. Slower. More gullible. Less daring and meeker of wit. The other one… ‘Vix’ as she now called herself - she was always the clear choice as the heir to the Brightstar empire. The Professional would have once been happy to follow her into a new Brightstar era. Until he found out what that had entailed. “The family comes first.” That was the Brightstar code. That was the one the Professional had been proud to uphold - in all his 120 years of service, he had never been contracted to draw Brighstar blood. Until Vix had asked him to. And he had complied.

So that was how he came to be standing in a strip club, watching a 35 year man with a shaggy blond beard sprawled across a chair in the darkest corner of the establishment, too drunk to even know what a thong was, but still resolutely trying to slip whatever barest scraps of an allowance Vix still allowed him into the strap of one. One attached to a woman the Professional thought was surely only a legal adult by the smallest of margins, squirming in the lap of a wretched figure of a man easily three times her size. Well, for whatever pretense of ‘legality’ still existed in this city.

Desperate times indeed.

“Leon.”

“Uuuuuuhhhhhh….”

The Professional frowned.

“Get up.” He told the stripper, grabbing Leon’s arm. Once she was out of the way, he pulled him up, easily slinging the massive man over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. The woman gasped, her hair implants shifting through a rainbow of colors as she tried to process the sight of a man who most closely resembled someone’s favorite kindly grandpa easily manhandling the hairy bulk that was Leon Brightstar like a sack of cotton fluff, but the Professional didn’t have time for nonsense or explanations.

“Show me the nearest unoccupied private room.” He said.

The stripper pointed. “But you can’t go in there.” She said.

“That’s no concern of yours.” He said, reaching down and picking up the remains of Leon’s money. He tossed it to her. “And by the way, you have no idea who this man is.”

“Uh… okay.”

He tossed Leon Brightstar down on the bed, paying not much attention to whether any of the man’s limbs happened to get crushed underneath the rest of him in the process.

“Whooo….. whuuhh….”

“Please don’t speak, sir.” Said the Professional, pulling a syringe out of a jacket pocket. “Relaxing won’t make this any less painful, but it’d be certainly much more pleasant for me.”

He jabbed the syringe into Leon’s chest, pushing the plunger all the way down. Immediately the serum took effect, and Leon arched backwards, screaming in pain as the specially engineered bacterium in the solution coursed through his body, purging any trace of alcohol found within. As far as detoxes go, there were definitely prettier ways to do it. A flailing arm caught the Professional across the face, slamming into him like a side of beef. He picked his round-framed glasses off the floor and settled them back onto his nose. When it was over, Leon curled up on the bed, clutching his head and groaning as he nursed the mother of all hangovers.

“Leon.”

Leon looked up, eyes widening in shock, and then anger.

“You!” He shouted, exploding to his feet. “You killed him! You killed my fa-”

“I know what I did.” Said the Professional, grabbing Leon by the lapel and lifting him up over his head, one hand clamped tight over the larger man’s throat. “And it is something I will regret until the end of my days. Which is why I’m helping you now.” He said icily. He dropped Leon, who fell onto the bed with much screeching of bedsprings. Of course a place like this would be so barbaric as to still use springs. No doubt the clientele thought it added to the atmosphere.
“Why the hell should I trust you. You’re a betrayer, just like that bitch I used to call my brother. For all I know, you’ve been sent to kill me as well.” Leon said, sneering.

The Professional slapped him. Lightly. He really wasn’t here to kill him, but the boy was really starting to get on his nerves.

“You know me well enough. If I were here to kill you, we wouldn’t be talking.”

“Well obviously you’re not going to kill me yet.” Said Leon, nursing the developing bruise on his cheek. “You’ve got to build me up first, give me hope. You claim you’re helping me, but it’s just an elaborate ruse.”

The Professional scoffed.

“Vix isn’t that sentimental. If she wants you to die, you die. Which she might still decide to do. But it won’t be at my hand. I’m here to give you back what should be mine.”

“What is… mine?”

“Your company, Leon Brightstar. You’re the one who deserves it, Nexus help us all. And I’m here to make sure you get it.”

“But… how? The bitch has everything now. The resources. The private security. The tech.”

“You have me. And you still have money. Not the allowance Vix gives you. Your father kept some inheritance away, out of reach. That’s yours now. And there’s something… interesting that happened in Tempest Row this morning. I think they can be of use to us.”

Leon swallowed. Taking back his company… that was certainly something he wanted. That he desperately wanted. And trusting this man… the family assassin… well, it’s not as if he had much of a choice.

“Well then. Who are ‘they’?”

[Thunderhead - An Abandoned Factory]

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The dining room was one of Dr. Graves’s last conceits to luxury. Most other trappings of aristocratic life he had long since discarded, but the dining room, converted out of a back room of the abandoned building the Night Police called ‘Midnight Base’, was as lushly decorated as could be found in any palace. Perfect for banquets, Bond Villain-esque cordial interrogations, or weekly lunches with his most trusted lieutenant. Not that ‘lunch’ was anything that Dr. Graves himself ever partook in. His utter lack of biological function was something Erik Slater continued to be unnerved by, even after the decades they had worked together since that fateful rainy day in Poland where they had first met. That, and the faceless mask and metal body.

Dr. Graves reached over, pouring Slater another cup of coffee from the French press. It was excellent coffee, as always. His knack for finding fine foods, even under the tightest of budgets or rations, was unnatural. And for someone who never ate himself, Graves was an uncommonly good cook. ‘A family talent’, he had always claimed.

“Another gang of mercenaries taking root in Tempest Row is nothing new, Erik. Why should the activities of MERC concern us?”

Erik took a moment to wipe away a few stray crumbs from his mouth.

“MERC are no common racketeers. They have already created near-monopoly conditions in Riverside, and tenaciously hold on to much of the freelance business in Inside, despite multiple attempts by the Union to root out their operations. They are uncommonly well equipped and have access to powers beyond normal expectation. Even in Tempest Row, they may tip the fragile balance of power.”

“And what is it you suggest we do about this?”

“The Night Police need to grow, Herr Doktor. The treatment has a better success rate than ever, and we are getting more volunteers by the day.”

“Volunteers to die?”

“Volunteers to keep the peace. Crime rates in this district have decreased by 15% since we increased our patrols, and some of the special operatives you authorized have already taken down some of the most prominent slaver rings. We are no shadow organization anymore. People recognize us and trust us. Why should they have need of mercenary protection with the Night Police in place to keep them safe?” Said Erik forcefully.

Graves sighed, the noise a metallic crackle through the filters of his mask.

“Your faith in force concerns me sometimes, Erik.”

Erik gave Dr. Graves a steady look. On the other side of the table, Graves seemed to be distracted, almost lethargic. Erik knew the timing of Graves’s more hesitant moods well. Quarterly, on the last Thursday of every third month - like clockwork it would strike. Erik had never asked why, and Graves, of course, had never volunteered the information himself. One of many secrets Erik was content to let lie between them. Their friendship had always been based on mutual respect more than it ever had been on intimacy. Graves had ever seemed to have little to share. Thankfully, even the queerest of his partner's moods rarely stood in the way of real progress.

“Perhaps we should discuss this at a later time, Herr Doktor? It seems clear to me that you need more time to think.” Erik said, putting down his fork. "We can have this lunch again... tomorrow, perhaps? I will alter my schedule to compensate."

“No.” Said Dr. Graves, responding with sudden decisiveness, his fists clenched. “We cannot squander time. If MERC are as dangerous as you say, we must be prepared for their first moves. Take whatever precautions you deem necessary.”

“Of course, Herr Doktor.” Said Erik, smiling. "I'll send your orders out immediately."

[Tempest Row - Attila's Cantina, a back room]

<Torlux, you know I have nothing but the utmost respect for you.> Attila said.

It was a lie, of course. Attila respected Torlux about as much as he respected a piece of moldy bread. Less, actually. With a piece of moldy bread, the mold might end up being penicillin, and heal a great many people. Torlux couldn’t dream of being that useful. Not on his own, anyway. In Attila’s hands, however… Torlux was a moody, temperamental Hutt, with twice the average dose of Hutt xenophobia, and three times the average dose of Hutt arrogance. In other words, a perfect patsy.

<Of course, Attila.> Said Torlux. <Dizmak is a fool to think we can benefit from an alliance from the scum of this city. We glorious Hutts are the only ones keeping this overgrown blister of a settlement together.>
Attila almost smiled. It was almost too easy.

<Dizmak was always too trusting.> Attila said. <Even this alliance with the Ferengi was ill-advised. They have already betrayed us.>

Torlux’s eyes narrowed. <What do you mean, Attila?>

Attila feigned surprised. <Why, this whole business with MERC, of course. Surely you have figured it out as well as I. They wouldn’t come into this city unless they knew they had an ally. An insider who could give them business and feed them information on where to strike. And the Ferengi have always detested their reliance on mercenaries supplied by the Hutts.>

<Are… are you sure about this?>

<Yes. We should strike them - soon - before they strike at us.>

Attila could see the wheels turning in Torlux’s head. Even as hateful and suspicious as he was, he still had the basest capacity for reason, and that reason was telling him not to make the first move on an ostensible ally. Not until he had evidence. Well, such ‘evidence’ could easily be arranged.

<This is… much to think on, Attila. Thank you for coming to me with this information. I will consider what you have said.>

<Don’t think too long, Torlux. I fear they will make their move soon.>

Attila turned off the holotransmission. He had his own moves to make soon.

[Tempest Row - Dipsnig]

Wherever he is, his transmitter should start warning of an incoming call.

[Morty]

[Tempest Row - Dipsnig]

"<Dipsnig Razortooth,>" the leader of MERC says into his transmitter. Having seen who the call is from, he speaks in his native language. If it's Atilla or one of his people on the other side, they'll have a translator droid on hand. To Dena, Dipsnig's speech will sound like someone trying to chew on walnuts.

[ThirdEmperor]

[Lucretia's Manse]

"So far as I'm concerned, and I'm only a little concerned.." As much wine as might be put in front of him, Metzhultultaran Stone is not a merry dwarf. A rich one, with jeweled rings on his stubby fingers, his nearly square physique swaddled in a midnight blue suit shot with threads that catch the turning of the light into racing streaks of starlight. But his voice is sour and the mood of the party grinds to a halt at his seat.
"They're new money. By best reports, the whole lot they've moved in with, that's hired muscle and tech, and the core of them is only a half-dozen strong at best. Just starve them. If nobody at this table offers them a scrap to eat, and I've got the slavers in my pocket, they will starve." One arm sits in a sling, the hand a lump of dull unmoving stone. His bald forehead gleams with insets of steel and granite, an elaborate mosaic, and a charm of bone binds the single braid of his beard. "But if the Lord Han wants the vermin out fast.. With his backing I can arrange for it to be done."

[Dining & Dashing]

The manticore's claws strike through air and onto the cement, and skids out sparks as the lithe creature turns its momentum, coiling up its bulk for the blink of an eye and then springing aside. The daggers pierce empty air, and the beast rears up and bucks its tail - to let loose a volley of long thin spikes streaking towards Alexia.
Sam seizes one by the throat alright, and hauls it up into the air, tail lashing at his midsection. But the other, the other gets its jaws around his incoming hand, and terrible teeth try to clamp down around his fingers.

[UncleWolf]

Dashing

Alexia forcefully tugs herself to the side to avoid the spikes right before landing. She stumbles just slightly as she flings out her hands, one calling her knives back towards her while the other tries to "catch" one of the spikes that had been launched at her. If she's able to catch it, she'll fling it sideways at the manticore that's bitten Sam's hand as her daggers spin defensively around her.

[Deathkeeper]

Dining and Dashing

Sam roars in pain as he's bitten, and tries to grab the beast with the other hand. Either way, if it wants to bite his hand and clamp, it's welcome to. Sam holds his hand at his side, holding it close to keep the monster in place as he...well, jumps up in the air...and bringing all of his weight down on the monster, while he uses that momentum also to use his other hand to drive the other into the ground as hard as he can.

[ThirdEmperor]

[Dining and Dashing]

The spine sinks in with a meaty thud, and a moment later Sam drives it deep into the beast's guts as he dashes its skull to the pavement, claws ripping at his arms in a frenzy as the blood spills out and the life twitches away. The other's tail draws back and lashes out for his shoulder, so swift and strong there's a crack as it comes down - again and again and again as Sam smashes the wretched thing into the ground.

And Alexia, she's taken her attention from her own hunter. Another hail of spines is sent flying towards the elf, and the daggers won't ward the beast away as it leaps up and rebounds off the alley walls to dart around them, throws itself in from behind to bowl her off feet and get her pinned beneath its claws.

[Darkcomet]

[Tempest Row - Wherever]

An unknown party is attempting to raise one of the local Ferengi, Gripak, on a years-old subspace channel, in some hope that it's still there. That there are spaceports around helps, though, since that means it's entirely likely that the locals kept their ships at least partially intact.

If he's not present to receive the message, well, presumably this thing has space caller ID so he can catch that later.

Not to mention the message left after the beep, which consists of the text-only words 'Rule 285,' except in Klingon. How bizarre.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVT]

It's Luna's latest gig. She's been on a mission to spy on this particular baron, going undercover in order to glean information about him to give the organization that hired her a tactical advantage. She'd been posing as a blind swordslady who was offering her services to protect this particular baron. One that would fight for him for pay. He had declined, until she presented him with credible evidence that an attempt was being made on his life. That changed his mind quickly, and now here she is.

At present, she is standing beside him in his home, dressed with a straw hat covering her head, a blindfold covering her face, two katanas on her waist, her body covered by a pink kimono. Ah, the wonders of digistruction technology and instant disguises! Good thing she's learnt to handle herself even without her sight.

They are also surrounded by half a dozen other such mercs out to make a name for themselves, though she's clearly the only professional. Shows how desperate the baron is, after learning of an impending attempt on his life, for him to depend on, in addition to the bodyguards he already has. Luna knows it won't help him, as she's gotten her orders to 'take him out'. She won't kill him, but he'll be as good as dead to the rest of the world once she's done with him.

Even while 'blind', she can feel the baron's eyes on her body. He's been ogling her any chance he gets, and she gets the feeling that he'd pounce her if he thought he could get away with it. She rests her hand on her katana and taps it, and he gets the message, chuckling nervously and turning away. One person is after his life already, no need to make it two.

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVT]


Our resident baron being preoccupied by his ill advised ogling won't even hear it coming. There is a low buzzing noise followed by a thhptSLPRRT as a bullet strikes the baron's forehead, leaving an explosion of gore in it's wake. Silence fills the room for half a second before the roar of the bullet traveling faster than sound finally catches up and echoes throughout the safe house. Something about the sound is almost eerily familiar.

All of the other mercs duck down behind cover trying to discern where the fire came from. There was no window in this room, the only point of entry could have possibly been a firing point that is in the next room, at such an angle that to land a shot like the one would be a miracle shot, virtually impossible for any conventional shooter.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVT]

Blind!Luna ducks down as well, squinting as she tries to place the sound of the shot. "Supersonic ammo, keep your heads down!" Her voice comes out as higher-pitched and more shrill than normal as she takes cover and 'scans' her environment.

She grips the scabbard of her main katana with one hand, the other hand ready to pull her sword out, slash and sheathe it back all in one motion.

There's quite a few people she knows who can pull off a shot like that. River is helping her with the shop back at home, and he doesn't know the way here. Fixer isn't in the Nexus. Zither has little reason to be out of the tower after all that's happened. (all of the names rhyme. Unintentional! ) She and Evan separated ways and she hasn't seen him since.

No. It can't be.

Well, it can, but she doesn't want it to be.

Not now.

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVT]


Now see, those other people are good shots. But what comes next is Evan work. Rounds fly through the same hole, ricocheting around the room, striking the mercs through the chest and face leaving the whole room decimated. The only person left alive at this point is Luna herself.

--

Meanwhile Evan breaks down his rifle and rests the pieces inside his coat and moves away from his firing point. He hums a tune to himself as the familiar silver mist envelops him he disappears, evidently heading towards his next job in town.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVT]

At least two of those mentioned could give Evan a run for his money. Regardless, the trick shots pulled off, somehow sparing only her causes her to sigh exasperatedly, as there is no longer any doubt in her mind that her old ex-fiance is responsible.

Darn you, Evan Armire.

Luna turns off her nanogenerated disguise and begins to search the room for clues, using her version of detective mode to try and ascertain the source of the shot. It might not matter if he's left, though, so she also searches the bodies, trying to pull bullet out of heads and chests.

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVT]

Luna will find a note on the baron's person, that would explain his increasing paranoia.


"Sir, we have reason to believe someone has payed out the money needed to have Evan Armire come kill you. I would suggest moving to a safe location until we can find and kill him. He has other targets in the area. The Assassin's guild leader on the other side of town is also on his list. I'd suggest sending a runner to talk to him. A really fast runner. Or better yet, just give him a call. That'd probably be safest."

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

Evan Armire.

Luna stares at the name for a moment, before crumpling the note, creating a hole in the wall and leap-of-faith-ing out to ground level, landing on her waiting SkySurfer hoverboard. Without a moment's pause, she zooms off, using her lightning to greatly increase the speed of her hovercraft, periodically chugging some hard alcohol in order to 'recharge'. Within a short while, she's at the other side of town.

"I guess it'd be too much to hope that Evan hasn't stolen this prey from me." She mutters to herself as she steps inside the guild and takes a look around.

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

The assassin's guild is on watch, looking around for anyone matching Evan's description. The windows are blocked by extremely thick ballistic glass with armed guards watching every firing point.

The guild master is allowing no one near him except for his body guards and a girl. She seems to be his daughter perhaps, five feet tall, blond hair that comes down to her waist with grey eyes. The young lady has a short barrel shotgun in her right hand resting at her side, looking around the room disinterestedly.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

"It won't help you." Luna says to everyone in the guild. She has no targets here, so she won't try and 'take out' the assassin leader.

"I know. We were close... once. Evan Armire's coming for you? Guards or not, won't make a difference."

Pity about the young girl. Pretty thing like that will just end up as collateral damage.

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

The guards ignore Luna. They've heard nonsense like that before. They're the best after all. Right? Riiiight.

The young woman does walk up to Luna and smirks in an eerily familiar way.

I know where Evan is. She whispers. Betcha don't know how.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

(Depending on how the current part of the Outside scene goes, this Luna might or might not have her split personalties either merged or working together with her.)

"He's using you, huh? Not surprised." Luna says, looking away with a hint of emotion in her eyes. "He uses people, and then disappears from their lives when he doesn't need them anymore." She's still feeling bitter about having Evan disappear from her life without warning.

Then she shoots the girl a double-take, realizing the familiarity of the smirk. "Wait. Evan?"

If she's right, she'll frown. "Figures."

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

Evangeline shakes her head.

Not exactly no. I'm him, she's me. We're not the same person but we are and aren't. It makes no sense and it isn't supposed to.

The strange girl says brightly.

Wherever I am or what I'm doing. He'll probably be in the exactly opposite place doing the opposite thing. It's pretty cool, huh?

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

Luna listens closely, peering at the girl as she speaks. When she finishes, all she's capable of getting out at first is: "What."

After a long moment, she shakes her head. "So, you're in here, and he's outside of here. If he's trying to kill Mr. Bigshot assassin there, then you're trying to protect him?"

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

Evangeline shakes her head.

Nope. Not exactly. Just whatever I'm not doing. I mean I might be here to get this guy. But he might be at home playing a game. It's not easy to explain. Besides, it hardly matters. You probably won't see that me around any time soon. He does different stuff than me.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

"Uh-uh." Luna has one eyebrow raised as she studies the girl. "How'd that happen, anyway? What's the story behind... 'this'?"

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

Evangeline looks quite confused.

What story? I mean I've always been this way.

Then a rather adorable smile comes across her face.

But back to the fun stuff that brought us here!

Then she wheels around, raising the shotgun in her hand and proceeds to slaughter the assassin's guild leader. Before the smoke clears she smirks in a rather Evanesque way back at Luna before she starts to fade away.

Have fun! Bye bye!

Oh my, it seems that as no one was looking at Luna or Evangeline at the time, the guards all seem to immediately think that Luna was the one that shot their boss.

Luna might wanna run. Fast.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

"Figures." Luna says once more on the sound of the gun blast. Once she starts to fade away, Luna zooms out the door before the smoke fully clears. Hey, she wasn't going to wait for the smoke to clear while she was alone in an assassins' guild!

While she's moving away from the building, she contemplates introducing the side of Evan's face to her right palm. Evangeline, too, if she ever meets her again. Just transfer weeks of hurt feelings to him with some percussive physical contact.

She activates her commlink and pings her employers. "Mission update: A sniper got to the baron before I could. Evan Armire." He killed him too quickly. One thing Evan will never understand is that killing certain people is too merciful. "Mission complete, either way, though messier than intended."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "Mission complete either way. Wiring your payment to you now. I'll contact you if anything comes up. -click-"

Now that that's handled, it's time to find Evan, no matter how much she doesn't want to. She needs some answers. But where could he be?

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

Well considering Evangeline is gone, Evan is probably here again. In fact...

Silver mist envelops Luna's position and our easily amused sniper steps surreptitiously from the vapor.

Oh good! You're still here. The best bit still hasn't started yet.

Evan is... Different somehow. He has the smug, I'm glorious in every way possible sort of grin he normally wears but his eyes. They lack the spark from before. They're the cold, calculating, baleful eyes of the assassin. His rifle in his arms, where there were once neat tally marks is now covered from muzzle to butt stock in the marks.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

Luna whirls to face Evan, ready to tell him off when she sees the look in his eyes and pauses. She herself appears the same for the time being, though she appears changed somehow. Maybe it's the seeming increased grumpiness. Maybe it's the fact that she appears somehow colder. Maybe it's...

"Let me handle this one, Luna." Comes the familiar voice of Raikiri, this time inhabiting the left side of Luna's face. The change is marked, with her right face frowning at Evan and the left face grinning rather smugly.

"Oh, alright, Rai. Don't wanna see him, anyway. I'll be watching. Ask him about that thing." She sighs and goes somewhere deep in their mind, with Raikiri taking the reins of their shared body. "Don't you worry, sis. I'm sure he didn't mean to leave us hanging while he went to..." Her eyes fall on his rifle. "Ooh, you've been busy!" She grins appreciatively, looking at the weapon.

And yes, before you ask, we're working together now. A truce. All I ever wanted, it's a joy! Though you... Ol'Snipey didn't grin like that. What happened to you? I sense... a merge." She leans in with an exaggerated look of deep thought on her face, staring at Evan.

[DoomITP]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]


Evan shrugs, there hadn't been two of him in this fashion that there seems to be in Luna. Though his original suspicion that Luna is cracked becomes more valid as this conversation goes on.

I'm me. Couldn't imagine what you mean.

He goes back to his original task and takes a pair of binoculars and looks at a nearby rooftop.

To be completely honest, I don't know why you thought coming on the same contracts as me would yield you any results. Figured my little bit of showmanship with the baron would have illustrated the point.

[Cyber Punk]

[The Ninja, the Sniper and the HVTs]

"Don't be so smug, Evan. We haven't seen you for quite a while, in fact we didn't expect to see you." Rai!Luna explains, grinning. "We've been testing our newfound alliance. Delegating tasks to each side of us."

Luna groans and mentally tells Rai to get on with it already. "Luna oughta be talking to you now, but she's allergic to the truth. It's alright if you moved on."
"Rai!" Luna appears once more, her half of her face shocked.
"What? Just saying." Rai chuckles as Luna huffs and disappears again.

[UncleWolf]

Dining and Dashing

Sam roars in pain as he's bitten, and tries to grab the beast with the other hand. Either way, if it wants to bite his hand and clamp, it's welcome to. Sam holds his hand at his side, holding it close to keep the monster in place as he...well, jumps up in the air...and bringing all of his weight down on the monster, while he uses that momentum also to use his other hand to drive the other into the ground as hard as he can.

[Dining and Dashing]

The spine sinks in with a meaty thud, and a moment later Sam drives it deep into the beast's guts as he dashes its skull to the pavement, claws ripping at his arms in a frenzy as the blood spills out and the life twitches away. The other's tail draws back and lashes out for his shoulder, so swift and strong there's a crack as it comes down - again and again and again as Sam smashes the wretched thing into the ground.

And Alexia, she's taken her attention from her own hunter. Another hail of spines is sent flying towards the elf, and the daggers won't ward the beast away as it leaps up and rebounds off the alley walls to dart around them, throws itself in from behind to bowl her off feet and get her pinned beneath its claws.

Dine and Dash

The barrage of spines hit Alexia dead on, but two skip off of her armor plates while the third hits between them with a meaty slap as it digs in several inches into her left side. She gives a grunt and keeps her good eye on the manticore as it leaps around her, used to such attacks from her homeland and right when it is about to hit her, she gives a sharp upward motion of her right hand, attempting to throw the manticore a good forty feet into the air. If it works, she'll complete the attack with a sharp down motion when it reaches its peak, forcing it into the ground at great speed.

[Deathkeeper]

Dining and Dashing

Sam lets go of the horrible monster and leaves it to bleed out. Its brother has already left what'll become a nasty bruise on his shoulder, and luckily the death-swipes of the dying creature aren't enough to slice through the thick hair, hide, and flesh of Sam's arms enough to leave any noticeable injuries. So, with his hands free, he takes one of the hands not holding up the flailing manticore, and simply tries to give its head a twist.

He would really like to have both of these things dead right about now. Hopefully Alexia's handled hers? He thinks he's going to need stitches on these bite marks. And probably disinfectant. Oh, and the wounds are also searing with terrible pain, but right now the adrenaline is blocking that a bit.