Post by Weyrloc Karn on Jul 27, 2014 20:52:40 GMT -6
"What did you expect was goin' to happen?!"
"Oh fuck me, why did you even?.. What did you even do?!"
The loud yells of the nearby mercenaries boom around the silent room. The smokey ruins of a Nos Astran office complex burn around the area, thick black smoke fills the air, obscuring any views. What was once a simple room of work, accountants, bosses.. The collapsed roof covers the floor, the remains of a decimated office cover the room, the examples of a premature explosive giving a clean explanation to such a deliberate form of desperation. A botched job, or simply a case of fear? The two mercenaries at the end of the room, covered by desks and what-not, held onto what seemed to be a crate. Was it simply a goal to keep that box safe? In the end, all it seemed to be was a desperate ploy to buy enough time to simply flee.. But fleeing from what? The bastard that tore down the rest of their group? The one son of a bitch that didn't give a care to the fact they were slaughtering whatever they saw? Neither of them knew anymore, neither even cared. Not anymore.
The two mercenaries stand, glancing around at the destruction. One simply gives a dry chuckle, "The fuck you whinin' about? I crushed the fucker!" The former shakes his head, before groaning, "We ain't supposed to break the damn place for it!", he growls out, before gripping his rifle in his hands. "Jesus, you're a moron.." The other shrugs, dusting the crate off slowly. The crate was unmarked, not a single mark or brand in sight, but regardless of who made or owned the goods, whatever was inside was definitely wanted by someone. One side paid to hold onto a box for a few hours, to move it along to whoever wants it.. On the other hand, another paid for that box to stay away from certain hands.. In this case, it seemed there was already some desperation towards keeping this crate safe from whoever was after it.. The flare of skycars, sirens, the area slowly becoming swarmed with armored clad asari's, commandos.. The law seemed to have found them. Without a hesitation and in a clear way to escape, the mercenaries run, bounding away from the area, the dark cloud soon pouring away the rain, water covering the area..
The pair move along, slowly after a while of running. It was a simple district, homes and foliage. They had no problems moving around, neither did they have any problems avoiding the civilians. It was easy, as so it seemed to be.. It wasn't too long now, neither was it too far away to drop off their goodies. Though the rest before them were already dead from the start, they seemed lucky. They weren't battered around so easily, they weren't forced to die in such a quick way.. Brutal or not. The thoughts already affected one, the second slowly coming to a halt as he pants, clearly lacking any state to continue running. "S-Shit.. Gimmie' a sec here, can't fuckin' breath..", the mercenary pants. The other gives a brief nod, before glancing around. "Jesus, just.. Sit somewhere, we ain't gonna' be here all day!", he stammers out, glancing around as he pants. Clearly it was fear, they didn't know they killed anyone yet, adding the cops onto them wasn't helping them both either.. The other mercenary sighs, before walking on. "When you get yer' ass in order, I'll be up ahead, a'ight?!", he shouts out as he runs along. The other gives a slow nod, slowly catching his breath.
It wasn't long until he heard the yell, the crack of the weapon, the thunderous boom of a shotgun blowing into some poor bastard.. It made him freeze up, thoughts racing through his head. He couldn't of fucked all of that up so easily. There wasn't any ways he could've messed up that bad.. But somehow, whoever they tried to kill.. They weren't dead. The mercenary grabs the crate, in rush of adrenaline, simply runs. No direction, no idea, wherever he could run, where his feet would run him to.. He just kept running. An hour of mindless running lead him nowhere, into circles, the panic and fear building. It wasn't long until he managed to find himself in front of a deadly scene.. It wasn't much to consider, but that human with him was thrown out along the floor. Blood, red, covering the wet floor as it leaked. He had no idea who did this, but it wasn't much to consider.. A dead body in the middle of an empty park wasn't going to make the headlines.. But it'd put him in further shit if it was found. His mind raced in thoughts and outcomes, panic setting further in as he realized he was the only one left.
The only one left...
Only. One.
The panic finally set, the crate tossed to the ground. His life was worth more, he didn't care for the money anymore. He was satisfied at being alive, a content batarian in most ways. His job choice however, didn't give him much room to consider a better outcome.. But it wasn't enough, the mercenary soon attempting to move away from the body, from the area.. From his job. It soon struck him, burning into him, knocking him down. The swift blast of a thermal shot, the explosion of blood, the final glances of the wounds exiting.. The mercenary collapsed to the ground, back forced into a pool of water. With gags and chokes, the batarian gasps for breath as he sprawls out along the hard, stone ground. His view directs towards the crate, his hand helplessly clutching out towards it, to no avail.. His view soon directs to something different, bringing fear into their eyes.. A stocky figure, leaning down to pick the crate off the ground, keeping it easily held in one.. That entire job taken in a simple way, it angered him, but it made it hurt all the more worse. The figure, the krogan.. That bastard, the one who stole all of this.. Simply shrugged as he inspected the contents. As he passes, he glances at the batarian, giving a small grunt. "Ain't even worth it..", a look of pitty upon his aged face. He soon walks along, leaving the dying mercenary to a slow death.. It hurt. It wasn't quick.. He got the worse ending out of the rest of them. Even as he soon passes, the thought still wanders through his head.
"Who the hell are you.."
No one needed to know. No one had to know. There was no names, no individuality. Once you offered your poor life for a simple job.. An easy job.. You either end up dead, or hunted. In this case, the krogan hunted, removed. Karn did what he needed. Even if it was extreme.. There wasn't anything else to say, or to do. An easy job, for easier money..
The two mercenaries stand, glancing around at the destruction. One simply gives a dry chuckle, "The fuck you whinin' about? I crushed the fucker!" The former shakes his head, before groaning, "We ain't supposed to break the damn place for it!", he growls out, before gripping his rifle in his hands. "Jesus, you're a moron.." The other shrugs, dusting the crate off slowly. The crate was unmarked, not a single mark or brand in sight, but regardless of who made or owned the goods, whatever was inside was definitely wanted by someone. One side paid to hold onto a box for a few hours, to move it along to whoever wants it.. On the other hand, another paid for that box to stay away from certain hands.. In this case, it seemed there was already some desperation towards keeping this crate safe from whoever was after it.. The flare of skycars, sirens, the area slowly becoming swarmed with armored clad asari's, commandos.. The law seemed to have found them. Without a hesitation and in a clear way to escape, the mercenaries run, bounding away from the area, the dark cloud soon pouring away the rain, water covering the area..
The pair move along, slowly after a while of running. It was a simple district, homes and foliage. They had no problems moving around, neither did they have any problems avoiding the civilians. It was easy, as so it seemed to be.. It wasn't too long now, neither was it too far away to drop off their goodies. Though the rest before them were already dead from the start, they seemed lucky. They weren't battered around so easily, they weren't forced to die in such a quick way.. Brutal or not. The thoughts already affected one, the second slowly coming to a halt as he pants, clearly lacking any state to continue running. "S-Shit.. Gimmie' a sec here, can't fuckin' breath..", the mercenary pants. The other gives a brief nod, before glancing around. "Jesus, just.. Sit somewhere, we ain't gonna' be here all day!", he stammers out, glancing around as he pants. Clearly it was fear, they didn't know they killed anyone yet, adding the cops onto them wasn't helping them both either.. The other mercenary sighs, before walking on. "When you get yer' ass in order, I'll be up ahead, a'ight?!", he shouts out as he runs along. The other gives a slow nod, slowly catching his breath.
It wasn't long until he heard the yell, the crack of the weapon, the thunderous boom of a shotgun blowing into some poor bastard.. It made him freeze up, thoughts racing through his head. He couldn't of fucked all of that up so easily. There wasn't any ways he could've messed up that bad.. But somehow, whoever they tried to kill.. They weren't dead. The mercenary grabs the crate, in rush of adrenaline, simply runs. No direction, no idea, wherever he could run, where his feet would run him to.. He just kept running. An hour of mindless running lead him nowhere, into circles, the panic and fear building. It wasn't long until he managed to find himself in front of a deadly scene.. It wasn't much to consider, but that human with him was thrown out along the floor. Blood, red, covering the wet floor as it leaked. He had no idea who did this, but it wasn't much to consider.. A dead body in the middle of an empty park wasn't going to make the headlines.. But it'd put him in further shit if it was found. His mind raced in thoughts and outcomes, panic setting further in as he realized he was the only one left.
The only one left...
Only. One.
The panic finally set, the crate tossed to the ground. His life was worth more, he didn't care for the money anymore. He was satisfied at being alive, a content batarian in most ways. His job choice however, didn't give him much room to consider a better outcome.. But it wasn't enough, the mercenary soon attempting to move away from the body, from the area.. From his job. It soon struck him, burning into him, knocking him down. The swift blast of a thermal shot, the explosion of blood, the final glances of the wounds exiting.. The mercenary collapsed to the ground, back forced into a pool of water. With gags and chokes, the batarian gasps for breath as he sprawls out along the hard, stone ground. His view directs towards the crate, his hand helplessly clutching out towards it, to no avail.. His view soon directs to something different, bringing fear into their eyes.. A stocky figure, leaning down to pick the crate off the ground, keeping it easily held in one.. That entire job taken in a simple way, it angered him, but it made it hurt all the more worse. The figure, the krogan.. That bastard, the one who stole all of this.. Simply shrugged as he inspected the contents. As he passes, he glances at the batarian, giving a small grunt. "Ain't even worth it..", a look of pitty upon his aged face. He soon walks along, leaving the dying mercenary to a slow death.. It hurt. It wasn't quick.. He got the worse ending out of the rest of them. Even as he soon passes, the thought still wanders through his head.
"Who the hell are you.."
No one needed to know. No one had to know. There was no names, no individuality. Once you offered your poor life for a simple job.. An easy job.. You either end up dead, or hunted. In this case, the krogan hunted, removed. Karn did what he needed. Even if it was extreme.. There wasn't anything else to say, or to do. An easy job, for easier money..
((OOC Note: Well, since I've not actually been able to post recently, (Other issues outside lacking an idea of what to do..) I thought I'd jump on the story bandwagon to make up for my lack of actually doing anything, since I do want to be a little more active! Thought a short story would be nice n' all. Hope you enjoy!))