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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
0 likes
Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
Guardian
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Nov 8, 2009 19:23:23 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Nov 8, 2009 19:23:23 GMT -5
For the second time in as many days he was staring down the barrel at his own mortality. He was surrounded, four different sets of eyes burned into him as the single barrel remained trained on his forehead. The solo human of the group laughed as Axle's eyes scanned the group, hoping to find any sort of opening. No luck. His back was mere feet away from the wall he had just vaulted off of and there were doors and windows along it but they were all closed. On the other side of the group was what looked like a small cantina, at least it was loud enough to be one. The opening was within reach but it was THROUGH the group of burly, well armed thugs. Cmon brain, find me a way out. There's ALWAYS a way out! The human roughly tapped Axle's brow with the barrel of the gun, forcing the young man to take a single step back.
Don't ev'n think about it. You're gonna be our golden goose with that nice bounty you got on you. Turn around.
Not knowing what else to do Axle hesitated and kept looking through the group trying to formulate some kind of plan. That's when he saw her. He knew it was her, Whiskey, the woman that nearly succeeded in capturing him earlier. It was the eyes; colder than the poles of Hoth. On any other person those eyes would still remind him only of her. An idea dawned on him; there was no way she was going to let these thugs, with no obvious connection to Rock Creek, get away with her mark. It was only then did Axle decide to turn around and slip his hands behind his back. The human put his hand roughly on the young man's arms and he felt the brush of the cold steel manacles being brushed over his skin. Unexpectedly the man thrust his free hand into one of the cloth flaps on Axle's back and wrapped one cold hand around the thick muscled portion of the wing nearest to the joint, bending and tweaking several of the cut feather stalks. Axle gasped as he pulled it roughly to one side watching what the young man felt; the appendage pushing against the fabric of his jacket.
Well, I'll be. They're real. Ok boys, lets... what?!
What happened then happened fast. It started with screaming gurgles that could have only been from the two Twi'lek judging from the dialect. Shoving Axle into the wall, the human removed his hands and the cold of the manacles. There was a shot and Axle whirled around as the Rodian fell to the ground with a shot perforating his brain pan. The human had dropped his blaster and moved to attack Whiskey as Axle sprung into action. Taking a few steps he thrust his foot into the back of the man's leg as he went to swing at the woman sending him off balance and stumbling past her. The way the human fell, however, knocked Axle off his feet and he hit the ground hard. As the second shot rang out Axle scooped up the blaster and raised it at his pursuer the moment hers slid into position between his eyes. Axle could think of nothing for the moment and just sat there breathing in the rank dust of the early Tattooine afternoon.
Okay then... what now? I doubt we can just sit here all day.
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Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
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last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
Administrator
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Nov 17, 2009 13:05:10 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Nov 17, 2009 13:05:10 GMT -5
What Whiskey had not anticipated was that the oaf of a man would have been so careless as to drop his blaster. Perhaps she should have waited a few moments longer... allowed the merc to put the cuffs on Axle's wrists. If she had been just a little more patient, she wouldn't be in this position. But ifs were useless to her now. At this moment, she had a blaster trained on Axle, and he had one trained on her. This stalemate was inconvenient.
Okay then... what now? I doubt we can just sit here all day.
This man had an annoying way of speaking too much. Whiskey was fairly sure that nothing Axle had said since she first met him was productive. Of course, the assassin was known for her silence. Her entire life, she rarely spoke. Words were largly unnecessary, and Whiskey was not one to waste her time. But at this time, be it the malfunction of her RELIC chip or not, Whiskey couldn't stop herself from letting the words out.
Now, you will lower your weapon. I promise you that if you shoot, I will shoot, and we both will die. Those that have employed me will be disappointed that you were not returned alive, but a dead subject is better than a rogue subject.
The mention of her own death was not accompanied by any form of hesitation or fear. Such things had long since been driven out of the woman, and even her failing chip had yet to let go of those blocks on her mind.
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Back inside the cantina, the events of the courtyard had not gone unnoticed. From a shadowy corner, eyes had watched the wanted man descend into the next of thugs. They had watched as the young woman snuck up and incapacitated the Twi'leks and terminated the Rodian and human. They had smiled at the sight of the woman and the rogue in their stalemate. Perhaps it was time to get in on the fun. If he could just dispatch the woman first, he'd have his chance at pulling in the large bounty on the man.
Slowly, he stood from his table and moved towards the door that opened onto the court yard. A large blaster was drawn from the holster at his side and brought up and ready. The door opened silently, and the man wasted no time. A shot rang out, heading straight for Whiskey's heart.
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From the corner of her eye, Whiskey registered the subtle movement of the door opening just as the last of her words left her mouth. The assassin had only fractions of a second to react before the blaster bolt collided with her chest. She dodged, falling down and to the side. The bolt grazed her arm, searing some of the flesh, but not damaging it beyond use.
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
0 likes
Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
Guardian
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Nov 21, 2009 22:37:00 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Nov 21, 2009 22:37:00 GMT -5
The adrenaline returned. The edge sharpened around his mind at the tensing of muscles as his heart raced ever faster. More than ever, Axle just wanted to be rid of this place; to put his tail to the ball of dust and roam again as he pleased. His pounding heart seemed to beg him, pleading to Whiskey, to be released. At the same moment he knew there would be no such luck. This was fate; preordained to happen the moment he slipped from Rock Creek. No matter how far he ran he knew they might find a position to catch him unawares. So painful a realization, that. Cringing Axle adjusted his body, bringing his body into a more flexible pose, sticking the tips of his wings through the strips on his jacket for balance. Her voice dry as the wind worked its way down the barrel of her gun, each word as real as what would happen if she pulled that trigger.
"Now, you will lower your weapon. I promise you that if you shoot, I will shoot, and we both will die. Those that have employed me will be disappointed that you were not returned alive, but a dead subject is better than a rogue subject."
His eyes met hers and though he knew his own gaze was one of weariness, of a pain he had never known before, hers never faltered. The essence of emotion, the glow of a soul that he had seen before, simply didn't exist in the depths of her honey gold eyes. It was something she had never seen in a person before and it intrigued him. All the thugs he had beaten down, shooters and finger-men that thought they could stop him, even those who thought they could help him; they all had a glimmer in their eyes be it greed, hope, malice, anger, kindness... love. Daylight broke in Axle's mind then, a realization that showed itself on his face merely as eyebrows raising millimeters toward his hairline, but thundered through his brain-pan and screamed behind his ears...
This is no mere employee. Not some common scofflaw they found on the streets, gave a gun to, and said "find me, we'll pay." She is like me! Inhuman...
Looking at her, Axle saw her face anew. The honey eyes which should smile at passerby were blank, cold, lifeless. The wisps of black hair blowing wild, dull black blades of determination and ignorance. Full lips, soft face, curvaceous form all carried as a burden. Beauty; wasted as though it were so much perspiration off his forehead. Who would she have been if Rock Creek had not stepped in? Would she have a family? A job? Traitorous feelings began to pool in his mind building until his eyes narrowed in sadness; it was pity. Pity for this "Whiskey," for what they did to her whatever it may be. So pervasive were the thoughts that they reached his tongue before he could silence himself. Six words...
"What did they do to you?"
He was so preoccupied with his own pity of his would-be captor that the adrenaline flow waned and his mind lost its edge. His incredibly sharp eyesight could see everything about her, every birthmark, every pore, every line in her cornea but he missed the subtle movements of the third man as he slipped into the dusty courtyard, blaster raised. The sound of gunfire shocked Axle back to his senses and his heart rate skyrocketed. His increased heartbeat increased the blood flow to his head and time slowed, the blaster bolt, a bright crimson struck Whiskey's arm as she spun to avoid the shot. The young man felt as if he was moving in water, his movements felt slow and ponderous as he aimed down the sights at the man in the door. Axle could see his eyes, the familiar glow of greed and victory playing across the fleshy surfaces of his face turning to concern as the young man's finger closed around the trigger... squeezed.
Two shots rang out in ultra-rapid succession, the first sailing wide of the target shattering a bottle of spirits in the cantina, the other striking the man low on the jaw. To Axle the body convulsed and slowly slumped against the jamb of the door. Gradually time moved forward again, Axle's concept of time returning as his simultaneous heartbeats and breaths slowed to normal levels. Still breathing heavily he sank to his knees, suddenly feeling unusually tired.
You... *pant* can thank me.... *gasp* later.
(gawd, I love this site. nothing better than an above average post)
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Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
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last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
Administrator
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Nov 23, 2009 11:15:50 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Nov 23, 2009 11:15:50 GMT -5
Something had gone wrong. In the few seconds that followed the man's appearance in the courtyard, in the time it had taken for Whiskey's arm to be struck by the blaster bolt, her chip had done nothing. She felt the pain, all of the pain that came from the seared gash on her arm. It caused her to gasp out a cry and pant as she stared at it, wide eyed. She'd known pain, a great deal of pain at that. But her chip had always controlled it, kept it manageable. But this... this REALLY HURT!
Grinding her teeth, Whiskey pushed herself up of the ground and turned to witness Axle's well placed second shot. Their attacker slumped to the ground, lifeless, and Axle sunk to his knees panting out heavy breaths.
You... *pant* can thank me.... *gasp* later.
He barely finished the sentence before Whiskey brought the but of her blaster down on the base of the back of his head, knocking the man out cold. Loss of conscious control caused the winged man to begin to succumb to gravity and fall forward, but she blocked his descent to the dirt with one of her legs. The other found her own blaster, which had been dropped to the ground when Axle landed in the courtyard. She holstered the useless, but familiar blaster and kept another in her grasp.
She winced when she reached to pick Axle up, but she managed to get him over her shoulder with some effort. Walking back through the cantina, she held the blaster low, but ready, discouraging the already fearful patrons from doing anything stupid. When she was back on the streets, she broke into a run. The RELIC chip wasn't helping anymore, and so this was by far the most taxing exercise she'd ever had, but she couldn't risk anyone else taking advantage of her vulnerable position. It was time to get this man stowed away and get off planet.
She arrived at the docking bay with no further incident, spare the strange looks she got as she ran the streets of the settlement. Quickly boarding her vessel, Whiskey took Axle to the small cargo area. It held enough room for a bunk, some supplies, and a cage... a cage large enough to hold a winged man, though not very comfortably.
Before placing the unconscious man in the cage, she removed his coat, which had proved to be a bother. She also removed his shirt and shoes, leaving the man only in his pants, and only after a fairly thorough inspection for unwanted contraband. She then bound his wrist in manacles and set him inside the cage, which was secured and locked. Axle's clothes were brought with her into the cockpit and set onto the co-pilot's chair. She would take no risks leaving the clothing anywhere near the man. Soon, the engines were being warmed up, the ship was lifting off the ground, and the landing gear was tucking away.
Minutes later the ship had cleared atmosphere and Whiskey was setting the coordinates into the nav computer. When the stars streaked into bright lines of white, they were on their way. With nothing left for her to do in the cockpit, Whiskey returned to the cargo area, where she laid herself down on the bunk. Fatigue was setting in. It was a strange feeling, being exhausted. She couldn't ever remember feeling this way.
Slowly, her eyes began to close. As she drifted in that strange stage of consciousness, somewhere in between fully asleep and away, images began to swarm before her eyes. More often than not, these images were difficult to give a name to. But every now and then... a feather floating on the wind, bright blue eyes contorted into the expression she had studied as fear, rage. Then, those eyes were joined by the rest of Axle's features. He was crouched, holding out a gun, but his face held an expression that Whiskey could not name, had never encountered. And then his voice rang clear in her mind like a bell.
What did they do to you?
The small assassin woke suddenly, crying out and jumping from the bunk and landing on her feet, pistol drawn. She moved it around frantically, as if some intruder was darting about the small cargo hold, until finally she faced Axle in his cage. Heart still pounding in her ears, she lowered the blaster and sank back down on to the bunk, face in her hands. What was happening?!
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
0 likes
Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
Guardian
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Nov 24, 2009 22:45:44 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Nov 24, 2009 22:45:44 GMT -5
It was a rare feat to get Axle to drop his guard. His paranoia was his shield. If asked he would most likely attribute such protection to how his freedom had lasted so long. Paranoia kept out those who might be out to hurt him; everyone to an outlaw. Those who never watched their backs, Axle saw them as weak, the easily manipulated ones in the world who coasted through life on their own sense of security. He could see it in the way the form of the bounty hunter slumped to the dirt, Axle unwittingly became prey to the same weakness. He thought Whiskey would be grateful that he had saved her life, at least allow them to talk this out. He was wrong.
*************
Taking a long breath Axle tried to get his pounding heart and singing veins under control and a weak smile spread across his face. Slowly the adrenaline quieted and his thoughts returned to the situation at hand. Gasping sharply, the young man was only able to speed a look of realization to his face before the impact. There was an enormous pain at the base of his skull and his vision flashed white. He was vaguely aware of dust entering his lungs and hands roughly gathering him up, his mind unable to focus or process properly. The world quietly turned to shadow, its cooling embrace welcoming the darkness to come. At the sound of boots on steel Axle's vision faded to black and consciousness left him.
He could see someone in the darkness, a colorless form without boundaries but imposing, cruel. Shapes swam in and out of his field of vision, sweeping around him and the other form, wind blew through his hair, tugging at his pony-tail and tousling it in a playful way. As he watched the wind played with the form before him, shaping and sculpting the fog, shaving strips and shapes from it as one would expect from a knife through fabric. Gradually the form became feminine, the hips and shoulders, hair and legs taking on the shape of a beautiful girl. Struggling against the wind the dreamer slowly moved toward the form, the resistance increasing as he approached. Reaching out a hand he gently places it on the woman's shoulder and she turns. The face is soft and fair, her hair curling softly over the shapely form.
All of a sudden a shriek tears through the colorless vision and everything flickers. The form of the woman becomes hazier and hazier until it vanishes. Slowly the dreamer's world returns to black, smothering him like a sightless curtain.
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