Flurry
07-07-2006, 06:20 AM
Hars crouched behind a blackened boulder and looked over the map displayed by his helmet computer. The red terrain grid was difficult to see over the red glowing backdrop of the mustafarian lava flow in front of him. The target he was tracking couldn't be a biological. First off it was moving too fast to be an indigenous creature, and most importantly it was dead in the middle of a large lava lake.
A gas bubble in the nearby lava burst, sending searing red hot cinders across Hars T shaped visor. He ignored the extra heat, making a mental not to himself to see his armorsmith after this job to have the repairs done. Hars crouched down behind a boulder, just a few yards from the lava lake as he saw the target headed in this general direction.
In this business, patience is as important as skill. Hars was a patient hunter, and he could afford to be since he only took big contracts. Time is on the side of the predator, not the prey. The target came closer.
As the target came within range, Hars looked through the electro-binocular scope attached to his rifle and he saw the man he had hoped for. His mark was a force sensitive, wanted by the empire for war crimes. Apparently those "crimes" were enough for someone in command to post a six figure bounty on this mark. There was one passenger on board the craft as well. He wore white robes beneath a brown cloak - most likely another force user.
Hars set the rifle to aim for the anti-gravity control sensor, right in front of the steering controls. Time slowed down for him, for these short moments of action between the everyday tedium are the life of any warrior. Hars pulled the trigger right as his heart beat, and the first rifle shell lodged itself into the craft. Sparks flew and the front left corner of the craft suddenly dove into the lake.
The passenger seemed to sense the danger, and made an impossibly high and fast leap for the opposite shore. The mark was not so lucky, he fought the controls as the second shell caught him in the chest, knocking him off of the craft and into the lake below. The force user burst into flames as he tried to make it for the shore. The third shell struck his burning corpse near the shore, and all movement ceased.
Hars looked at the force user, and for a brief second he felt the old burning hot cinder of hatred. "No" he thought to himself, "That was a long time ago, and so was she". "It's all business now, and nothing else", he thought, as he kicked the remains of his mark into the pool of lava.
This was strange because Jerot never thought much about himself, no more than a bullet does right before it strikes its intended target. Introverted thinking doesn't make a better hunter: better tactics, quick thinking, proper equipment, and superior firepower generally did the job.
Hars's wrist comm unit lit up, and he almost smiled to himself with satisfaction as his bank account showed a large credit transfer in. A moment later his comm unit lit up again, it appeared to be fan mail from the force user who escaped. Hars played through the nonsense and deleted the messages.
"That was a cheap shot Hars! Why don't you come back here and duel me 1-on-1 NOOB!"
Hars sent a quick reply before hitting the key to prevent any further communications: "Complain all you want. Just not to me."
A gas bubble in the nearby lava burst, sending searing red hot cinders across Hars T shaped visor. He ignored the extra heat, making a mental not to himself to see his armorsmith after this job to have the repairs done. Hars crouched down behind a boulder, just a few yards from the lava lake as he saw the target headed in this general direction.
In this business, patience is as important as skill. Hars was a patient hunter, and he could afford to be since he only took big contracts. Time is on the side of the predator, not the prey. The target came closer.
As the target came within range, Hars looked through the electro-binocular scope attached to his rifle and he saw the man he had hoped for. His mark was a force sensitive, wanted by the empire for war crimes. Apparently those "crimes" were enough for someone in command to post a six figure bounty on this mark. There was one passenger on board the craft as well. He wore white robes beneath a brown cloak - most likely another force user.
Hars set the rifle to aim for the anti-gravity control sensor, right in front of the steering controls. Time slowed down for him, for these short moments of action between the everyday tedium are the life of any warrior. Hars pulled the trigger right as his heart beat, and the first rifle shell lodged itself into the craft. Sparks flew and the front left corner of the craft suddenly dove into the lake.
The passenger seemed to sense the danger, and made an impossibly high and fast leap for the opposite shore. The mark was not so lucky, he fought the controls as the second shell caught him in the chest, knocking him off of the craft and into the lake below. The force user burst into flames as he tried to make it for the shore. The third shell struck his burning corpse near the shore, and all movement ceased.
Hars looked at the force user, and for a brief second he felt the old burning hot cinder of hatred. "No" he thought to himself, "That was a long time ago, and so was she". "It's all business now, and nothing else", he thought, as he kicked the remains of his mark into the pool of lava.
This was strange because Jerot never thought much about himself, no more than a bullet does right before it strikes its intended target. Introverted thinking doesn't make a better hunter: better tactics, quick thinking, proper equipment, and superior firepower generally did the job.
Hars's wrist comm unit lit up, and he almost smiled to himself with satisfaction as his bank account showed a large credit transfer in. A moment later his comm unit lit up again, it appeared to be fan mail from the force user who escaped. Hars played through the nonsense and deleted the messages.
"That was a cheap shot Hars! Why don't you come back here and duel me 1-on-1 NOOB!"
Hars sent a quick reply before hitting the key to prevent any further communications: "Complain all you want. Just not to me."