The Family Legacy
Posted: Wed Sep 04, 2019 3:48 am
Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.
He could almost hear her saying those words while staring at the locket but uncertainty struck him. Had it been so long that he had forgotten her voice? Would he have forgotten her hair, that gleamed like silver, were it not for the locket? His mind had started filling in the colors of her irises but Arkanians lacked those.
“Thirty seconds until insertion,” the pilot announced.
The locket was closed, the doubts banished. Vanito Cadera donned his helmet and walked down the now-opening boarding ramp. His visor highlighted thousands of lifeforms beneath them, mingling about in some unimportant city street.
A dim, green light flicked on above him and he made his jump. He did not have his complete jetpack, too heavy for such a mission. Instead, he utilized miniature jets to guide him just close enough to land onto the roof of his target destination.
“Fifteen minutes until pickup. Be there.”
“Affirmative,” Vanito whispered over the channel. He kept to the shadows, identifying guards, routes, and so on. Surely it was better to evade them but his employer had been quite specific: no survivors.
There was no denying why he was here. This time, he was no assassin. He was an executioner.
Two pairs of guards. Vanito stalked up to his first victims and fired his whipcord launcher around the neck of the first. In one fluid motion, he kicked the strangled man off the railing and fired the anchoring mechanism into his ally’s back. The gadget stabbed into the guard with prongs, his screams muffled by the grip of a Mandalorian crushgaunt. A simple application of pressure and there was nothing left to worry about from him.
Vanito kept his hands on the cord as he sauntered over to look past the railing. The impact had broken the other one’s neck.
He detached the anchor and slammed it back into the wall. Make an example of them. That’s what his client had requested. The commotion had naturally drawn the other two, like bait set out during a hunt.
When the other two reached the scene, Vanito swept in and shoved them both over the tripwire planted at ankle level. The backmost one was caught in falling and slammed skullfirst into the corner of the wall. Vanito then leaped forward and seized the back of the final one’s neck. Another application of pressure and the deed was done.
As he got to his feet, he dragged the corpse with him over to the stairwell. The dead man’s eyes passed the retinal scan, along with his badge. The keypad combination was overridden by an acquired dataspike.
“Team is not responding,” a voice said on the other side, “Moving in to assess.” There were footsteps reverberating as well. Vanito pressed up against the door and closed his eyes.
Four.
He unsheathed his beskad and waited until the perfect moment to drop down. His downward slice split a man in two, his back kick stumbling the two behind him. Vanito spurred forward, firing his cord behind him as he maneuvered past the remaining guard ahead of him. Undisciplined fire made short work of him in the form of fratricide.
Through raw force, Vanito pulled the entangled guard over the railing and then fired the anchor into the staircase above. He then shoved his meat shield into the guard still shooting at him and lunged forward, blade chopping away at flesh both already dead and soon to be dead. When the deed was done, he unholstered his blaster pistol and fired two bolts into the dangling guard’s skull.
Vanito tossed down an audio player that began replaying sounds of an ongoing battle. He sprinted back up and reached his very first victim. He slid down the cord while slamming his dagger into the side of the building. When he finally came to a gradual halt, he pulled out his breaching charge and set it against the wall. He repositioned himself behind the corpse before pulling the detonator.
A few giblets rained down onto the streets below. Vanito hurled himself inside and began charging through the unsuspecting guards. He was an unstoppable storm, using his physical capacity and the augmentations from his armor. A few well-placed shots and a whipcord tug to throw someone out of the building. This time, he simply detached the victim, letting them descend to the streets.
When the room was cleared, he launched a high-yield anti-personnel mine into the entry from the stairwell. As he moved on through, he heard the reverberating thud from the explosive being triggered. It seemed like his ruse had worked as few remained in his path.
After dispatching the others, Vanito plunged his sword into a guard’s chest and pushed through the final door. With his other hand, he shot down the remaining guards flanking one of his true targets, Laurent Daemo.
The overhead portrait showed all of them. One adult male, one adult female, one teenage female.
“I won’t resist,” the father said, getting to his knees. “Do whatever you want.”
The executioner almost-too-casually took in the room. “Where are they?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” The target looked up with him with a gambler’s passive face. It had probably served him well, up until this point.
Vanito lifted his blaster pistol and fired into the bed frame. “This is your chance to say goodbye,” he warned. He knew they weren’t actually there.
“Just kill me! That’s what this is all about!” Laurent inched his hand closer to one of the fallen guard’s weapons and was met with a barrel pointed straight at his forehead.
“Again. Last chance to say goodbye.”
Laurent took a breath and then pointed to the dresser. He had figured it would be enough of a distraction to grab a blaster. The shot to the chest and the shot to the cranium proved otherwise.
Vanito sighed and walked up to the dresser. His augmented kick sent it tumbling out of the way and he pressed down on the mechanism. Inside the safe room, he found Laurent’s wife cradling the head of their weeping daughter.
The young teenager’s hair was white too. The roots showed that it was dyed for a fashion statement, unlike his own daughter.
“It’s nothing personal.” Vanito sauntered over and raised his blaster.
“Fuck off!” the mother shouted, rightfully so.
A couple squeezes of the trigger and he was done here. Vanito chose to ignore one of the job's requests as he made his way to pickup. On the way, he fired off shots to finish off any of the unfortunate survivors from the earlier explosion and debris. He retrieved his audio player from the stairwell on his way up to the top, just in time to leap into the ramp.
“A lot of commotion for a so-called ghost,” the pilot remarked, “Comms throughout the city are lighting up. Law enforcement will be in hot pursuit.”
“Messy jobs are noisy,” Vanito replied, wiping off the blood from his beskad, “Missing guards don’t go unnoticed.”
“You seem to enjoy causing a lot of carnage. Did you at least remember to hang the family?”
“When I was a child,” Vanito said, leaning in, “I was taught that it’s best not to poke a rabid hound. You could lose some fingers that way.” He tossed the bloody rag onto the pilot’s lap and strapped himself in.
He could almost hear her saying those words while staring at the locket but uncertainty struck him. Had it been so long that he had forgotten her voice? Would he have forgotten her hair, that gleamed like silver, were it not for the locket? His mind had started filling in the colors of her irises but Arkanians lacked those.
“Thirty seconds until insertion,” the pilot announced.
The locket was closed, the doubts banished. Vanito Cadera donned his helmet and walked down the now-opening boarding ramp. His visor highlighted thousands of lifeforms beneath them, mingling about in some unimportant city street.
A dim, green light flicked on above him and he made his jump. He did not have his complete jetpack, too heavy for such a mission. Instead, he utilized miniature jets to guide him just close enough to land onto the roof of his target destination.
“Fifteen minutes until pickup. Be there.”
“Affirmative,” Vanito whispered over the channel. He kept to the shadows, identifying guards, routes, and so on. Surely it was better to evade them but his employer had been quite specific: no survivors.
There was no denying why he was here. This time, he was no assassin. He was an executioner.
Two pairs of guards. Vanito stalked up to his first victims and fired his whipcord launcher around the neck of the first. In one fluid motion, he kicked the strangled man off the railing and fired the anchoring mechanism into his ally’s back. The gadget stabbed into the guard with prongs, his screams muffled by the grip of a Mandalorian crushgaunt. A simple application of pressure and there was nothing left to worry about from him.
Vanito kept his hands on the cord as he sauntered over to look past the railing. The impact had broken the other one’s neck.
He detached the anchor and slammed it back into the wall. Make an example of them. That’s what his client had requested. The commotion had naturally drawn the other two, like bait set out during a hunt.
When the other two reached the scene, Vanito swept in and shoved them both over the tripwire planted at ankle level. The backmost one was caught in falling and slammed skullfirst into the corner of the wall. Vanito then leaped forward and seized the back of the final one’s neck. Another application of pressure and the deed was done.
As he got to his feet, he dragged the corpse with him over to the stairwell. The dead man’s eyes passed the retinal scan, along with his badge. The keypad combination was overridden by an acquired dataspike.
“Team is not responding,” a voice said on the other side, “Moving in to assess.” There were footsteps reverberating as well. Vanito pressed up against the door and closed his eyes.
Four.
He unsheathed his beskad and waited until the perfect moment to drop down. His downward slice split a man in two, his back kick stumbling the two behind him. Vanito spurred forward, firing his cord behind him as he maneuvered past the remaining guard ahead of him. Undisciplined fire made short work of him in the form of fratricide.
Through raw force, Vanito pulled the entangled guard over the railing and then fired the anchor into the staircase above. He then shoved his meat shield into the guard still shooting at him and lunged forward, blade chopping away at flesh both already dead and soon to be dead. When the deed was done, he unholstered his blaster pistol and fired two bolts into the dangling guard’s skull.
Vanito tossed down an audio player that began replaying sounds of an ongoing battle. He sprinted back up and reached his very first victim. He slid down the cord while slamming his dagger into the side of the building. When he finally came to a gradual halt, he pulled out his breaching charge and set it against the wall. He repositioned himself behind the corpse before pulling the detonator.
A few giblets rained down onto the streets below. Vanito hurled himself inside and began charging through the unsuspecting guards. He was an unstoppable storm, using his physical capacity and the augmentations from his armor. A few well-placed shots and a whipcord tug to throw someone out of the building. This time, he simply detached the victim, letting them descend to the streets.
When the room was cleared, he launched a high-yield anti-personnel mine into the entry from the stairwell. As he moved on through, he heard the reverberating thud from the explosive being triggered. It seemed like his ruse had worked as few remained in his path.
After dispatching the others, Vanito plunged his sword into a guard’s chest and pushed through the final door. With his other hand, he shot down the remaining guards flanking one of his true targets, Laurent Daemo.
The overhead portrait showed all of them. One adult male, one adult female, one teenage female.
“I won’t resist,” the father said, getting to his knees. “Do whatever you want.”
The executioner almost-too-casually took in the room. “Where are they?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” The target looked up with him with a gambler’s passive face. It had probably served him well, up until this point.
Vanito lifted his blaster pistol and fired into the bed frame. “This is your chance to say goodbye,” he warned. He knew they weren’t actually there.
“Just kill me! That’s what this is all about!” Laurent inched his hand closer to one of the fallen guard’s weapons and was met with a barrel pointed straight at his forehead.
“Again. Last chance to say goodbye.”
Laurent took a breath and then pointed to the dresser. He had figured it would be enough of a distraction to grab a blaster. The shot to the chest and the shot to the cranium proved otherwise.
Vanito sighed and walked up to the dresser. His augmented kick sent it tumbling out of the way and he pressed down on the mechanism. Inside the safe room, he found Laurent’s wife cradling the head of their weeping daughter.
The young teenager’s hair was white too. The roots showed that it was dyed for a fashion statement, unlike his own daughter.
“It’s nothing personal.” Vanito sauntered over and raised his blaster.
“Fuck off!” the mother shouted, rightfully so.
A couple squeezes of the trigger and he was done here. Vanito chose to ignore one of the job's requests as he made his way to pickup. On the way, he fired off shots to finish off any of the unfortunate survivors from the earlier explosion and debris. He retrieved his audio player from the stairwell on his way up to the top, just in time to leap into the ramp.
“A lot of commotion for a so-called ghost,” the pilot remarked, “Comms throughout the city are lighting up. Law enforcement will be in hot pursuit.”
“Messy jobs are noisy,” Vanito replied, wiping off the blood from his beskad, “Missing guards don’t go unnoticed.”
“You seem to enjoy causing a lot of carnage. Did you at least remember to hang the family?”
“When I was a child,” Vanito said, leaning in, “I was taught that it’s best not to poke a rabid hound. You could lose some fingers that way.” He tossed the bloody rag onto the pilot’s lap and strapped himself in.