04-03-2015, 04:20 PM
If I had to give the Empire credit for something, it that they knew how to make a riot vehicle (and other war machines, but that story is for later). The lot of us were pushed through the back hatch into the vehicle's hold, where two parallel metal benches and trick railing lining the roof were the only thing there to greet us. Those of us with handcuffs had one hand freed only to have the free cuff then attached to the rail, and we all pushed inside of the mobile jail. It wasn't a comfortable fit, especially as I had to sit across the big sack of shit, but then these kinds of vehicles never had the riders in mind. Gargantuan was sans cuffs, as it seemed the white armored ground pounders didn't have any in his size, but that was a problem fixed by the soldiers riding in the back with their rifles out and pointed at the ogre at all times, leaning on the fear of death and a reputation of trigger fingers keeping the big fella. And if me and the two scrubs got killed in the crossfire, no skin of their backs.
Fine by me. With all their attention on the big guy, I was out of their line of sight and they had chosen to not disarm me. I had some time to mess on my PDA while we were being carted off to whatever destination the glorified police force thought fit. Writing with your off hand is a pain, but so long as I had both hands full the stormtroopers didn't see me as a threat. A failure on their part, but I didn't plan on fighting them while my hand was tied above my head. I could, but a rocket launcher in a closed room is not a good way to make friends.
After a few emails and more than enough time wasted on watching ONN's back catalog, I looked up from my screen as I felt the APC came to the final stop and the engines died down. Everyone was corralled out at gun point into what seems to be a small motor pool, and pushed through a set of double doors into the building proper. As I was prodded along, I gave the room a quick sweep to see what kit they had and an escape route if I needed it. What I saw was two more APCs like the one we took a ride in mingled with a few smaller transports in an area that couldn't support them, the barest minimal of repair equipment, and a pole coming out of a hole in the ceiling, the kind that was more characteristically seen in firehouses than a some kind of military headquarters. Despite the effort they took to give a show of force, a show was all it was. This was a firehouse. Their operation was as hobbled together as a pipebomb, and just as poorly maintained. Going into the next room only proved it: the lobby had taken what was probably a storeroom, divided up by cubicle walls in order to make briefing rooms, and the front "desk" was a card table manned by the most depressed looking corporal I've ever seen downing themselves in a very visible bottle of rotgut. West Point, this was not.
My three "companions" were shuffled off to the holding cells, where they would get the chance to have a very colorful conversation with each other, while I was moved up into the second floor flanked by two guards. A short walk past the barracks led me to a door with a plaque labeled "Lt. Jones", the familiar sound of an officer's muffled held-back rage as we was told down not just by his CO, but by someone several ranks above him. You can tell by the angry tint in how they say their CO's title and an over aggressive use of "sir". I didn't even have to hear the other side of the conversation, being both a veteran observer and practitioner of it. As the guard opened the door, I barely got something about an Admiral (likely the man who was chewing him out) and something about a bounty hunter, before there was a hasty apology and the call was ended.
"Connor, you unprofessional hack, how many times have I tol-" The officer halted his rant as he spun in his squeaky chair as saw the subject of his interruption. His temper was quickly swept under the rug and he attempt to uphold the image of his station. Which wasn't very good, as his room revealed how "independent" the man was from the military he served. Like all officer's office, it was decorated to their whim as a bonus for their service, but rather than honors or memorials to previous victories (I suspected there were none) but rather with pictures of family and home on top a real desk, what wasn't taken up by filing cabinets. The man himself was fit and stocky with a tan complexion, black hair with a few white hair and the darkest, most well kept beard I've ever seen. He assume the stock "interested" pose officers liked to do, slightly stooped over with their fingers overlapping each other, but after the twentieth time I've seen that it's lost any kind of intimidation factor for me.
"Please, sit, sit." He offers, holding his hand out to the lone hair across from him in an attempt at friendliness. , I took the seat in order to play along and in the hope he would dismiss the guard. He did not. "So, I am sure you are wondering why you are here"
"I was wondering" I confirmed, folding my arms in annoyance and trying my best to stare the man down form behind the helmet.
"We have been tracking your movements since you've gotten here though" he answer, opening a file he had prepared. I should have figured that the front gate's security was a bit lacking. "And we know that you have been associating with a known wanted criminal" The first picture he put down was of me and Choprot with his little group, followed with another of us boarding his ship. I was alternating between annoyance that that green bastard was still getting me into trouble, and wondering where those cameras were. I eventually decided on questioning what his point was.
"Last I checked, just being in the same room with a criminal is not enough to get you call in by the local rent-a-mooks" The Lieutenant didn't seem phased by that comment, and if anything the corner of his mouth upturned briefly as a secret smile.
"By the authority invested to me by the Empire, I can hold you indefinably under suspicion of criminal activity until evidence of said activity is found" Oh, I was livid at that, gritting me teeth behind my visor. How I wanted to scramble across this man's desk and his forest of picture frames so that I could break every single bone in his face. I almost did, as I gripped my end of the table and planed on how I could take out the two plastic soldiers behind me before I ruined the lieutenant's day and his stupid beard. But this wasn't the only thing he had to say, as he slid a form in front of me
"However, as a prime, the Empire is willing to offer you a deal for both our benefits. We can wave the charges, if you sign on to our cause. I'm sure that someone of your talents would be very appreciated by the Peace Division" Intimidation, extortion, AND baseless flattery. The Empire's bootlickers really do know how to lay it on thick. He had the upper hand, as refusing outright wasn't going to get me out of this office. I had to turn the conversation around and gain an advantage. With guns or with words, you should be always ready to fight for your life.
"You might have the authority to hold me, but you lack the capacity to do so. What you have for a jail cell won't keep me, and if you try to transfer me that's just an opportunity for me to escape. I have more firepower on my back than you do in your entire armory, and if you would let me walk out of here because the alternative is that I level the whole building. And if you DO manage to get me? I'd eat my own gun and I'll come back, and you'll have an angry prime on your hands" If I had disarmed the officer, he was keeping a good poker face. But I could hear the two behind me fidgeting on the spot. They knew I was right. I pressed on and hammered home the point.
"Besides, what would happen if I did agree? I'd get carted off to Coruscant and you'd never see me again, when you probably need me the most. I thought the navy of an ocean verse would have a bigger budget than this" At that I did get something out of the stone faced officer. He bristled, if only for a moment, at what I had figured was some kind of inter-military political drama. These guys weren't navy. The Navy probably had some giant base somewhere on Costa del Sol, not unlike the one on crescent lagoon sans the terrors from the deep, not some confiscated firehouse . The Navy didn't have to deal with the bullshit of keeping the peace and whatever jackass came through the gate every other day. The Navy had a budget bigger than a small nation, not understaffed and under armed. The Lieutenant was recovering, but I went for the killing blow.
"So I have a deal for you. Not this shit," I flicked the form off the table "this is what you give to every Tom, Dick, and Harry you manage to drag in here kicking and screaming. This will actually benefit the both of us, and not just your ass-licking COs. You hire me as a 'private military contract" or whatever bullshit term you call mercs, I help you out, and you erase whatever profile you have on me. You report me as a secondary, and from then on it'll be smooth sailing for everyone. Or I just walk out" I laid down the ultimatum, laming my hands down on the desk to punctuate it for a bit of flair. Despite the sureness I was trying to convey, there was just the tinge of fear that there was something I didn't consider and I had just signed my doom. Which only made the helmet all the more a godsend.
The stand off grew silent, each of us stared the other down as wished for them to yield in some hope of victory. But if there's one thing I know about myself, is that I'm stubborn. Eventually, the officer was the one who backed down, slumping back in his chair. He rested one hand onto his face, contemplated on what he could do, and then pulled another form out of his desk. A different one.
"Alright, you got me. We'll fill the paperwork to classify you as a mercenary, and delete what we've gather so far. You will be given orders directly from us, though as a merc you aren't required to fulfill them." That last part was said in a grumble, but I heard it just fine. "But if you backstab us-"
"You'll blow me to kingdom come and hunt me down to the ends of the earth. Yeah, I've heard that spiel before. Don't worry, I'm VERY good with keeping my word" I cut him off. It had been a long day at this point, and I was hoping to get some rest.
"Right then" he began to fill out the form "Before we start working together, do you have a name I could call you"
"Doomguy" I once again got a raised eyebrow for that "You don't need to know my name, just what to call me. Can I go now?"
He waved me off, dismissing me along with the guard. I had managed to avoid whatever fate the Empire had for me, but I could tell there was still a great deal of distrust in me, and the feeling was mutual. I would be sleeping with one eye open tonight. I'm not sure what the other stormtroopers were expecting when I left their CO's office, but probably not me asking where the beds and armory were. I left the peashooters alone, considering that if I wanted an assault rifle there were plenty form my own world that I would be more comfortable using. I did take several of their med kits and folded them into my pack, but that was a small price for my willingness to work with them rather that shattering their world around their heads.
The sun was set, and fatigue was finally setting in. I had thought I would have a nice break from all the violence from the other day, but I was thrown right back right into the chaos without even a choice in the matter. I hadn't even really recovered from the base raid, the wound from the hybrid's hook still a nasty looking scab. But with a night's sleep, maybe I could finally unwind my nerves into something that doens't want to shoot anything that moves. I would go to the hotel tomorrow, hear out their proposal, and from there decide how I was going eek out an existence in my search for Omni. I didn't quite realize what I had in store for me yet.
Lieutenant Jones Abdul waited until the green armored soldier before he cracked the first genuine smile he had all day. Although this "doomguy" may have frustrated him to no end after being bamboozled by the strange soldier, the officer had actually gotten more out of this than he had expected. He thought that he would have to pull strings to get the prime pulled under his command, rather than left with the Peace Corps. Or worse, given to Admiral Kizaru as a personal killer. It would be an insufferable and personal insult if that happened. But the marine had inadvertently fallen into Jones' lap, and now he could look forward to finally having some power in his hands.
"Eagle Eye, have you been listening?" Jones talked to no one particular, knowing that the technological spy was of course doing so. His computer screen flickered on, showing a human draped in poor lighting
"I wouldn't have missed this. Do you want to me to delete the profile, sir?"
"Yes, I do Since he's been so gracious to give us what we want, we should uphold our side of the deal. But keep a copy in a secured file off the grid, in case mr 'Doomguy' decides he no longer wants to keep our company"
"Yes sir" Eagle Eye went to work on that, before returning from a brief silence "Do you think he was bluffing? About what he could do"
"Of course he was" Jones sounded very confident as he opened up one of his drawers, looking for a cigarette and lighter, smile only growing wiser "Primes always think they more powerful than us, but they're not. He wouldn't haven gotten past the door."
"I'm not so sure, sir" the spy answer, typing in something on his side "We've interrogated one of Choprot's crew, or what's left of it. Sir... he was at crescent base" The smile dropped immediately from the lieutenant's face, stopping a moment before he had the cig to his mouth. He heard of the rumors, he read the report. A shiver of dread started to form, but he had to confirm it.
"Was any video recovered?" he asked, and eagle eye answered by sending the file. In moments the officer was watching the security feed that survived, and saw it all. The slaughter, the mania, the damage done by a single man in green armor. And from one of the outside cameras, although from a great distance, he saw the battle with the great beast. At that moment, Jones now saw that his strange bedfellow was not just a threat, but a dangerous individual.
"Who...WHAT is he?"
Fine by me. With all their attention on the big guy, I was out of their line of sight and they had chosen to not disarm me. I had some time to mess on my PDA while we were being carted off to whatever destination the glorified police force thought fit. Writing with your off hand is a pain, but so long as I had both hands full the stormtroopers didn't see me as a threat. A failure on their part, but I didn't plan on fighting them while my hand was tied above my head. I could, but a rocket launcher in a closed room is not a good way to make friends.
After a few emails and more than enough time wasted on watching ONN's back catalog, I looked up from my screen as I felt the APC came to the final stop and the engines died down. Everyone was corralled out at gun point into what seems to be a small motor pool, and pushed through a set of double doors into the building proper. As I was prodded along, I gave the room a quick sweep to see what kit they had and an escape route if I needed it. What I saw was two more APCs like the one we took a ride in mingled with a few smaller transports in an area that couldn't support them, the barest minimal of repair equipment, and a pole coming out of a hole in the ceiling, the kind that was more characteristically seen in firehouses than a some kind of military headquarters. Despite the effort they took to give a show of force, a show was all it was. This was a firehouse. Their operation was as hobbled together as a pipebomb, and just as poorly maintained. Going into the next room only proved it: the lobby had taken what was probably a storeroom, divided up by cubicle walls in order to make briefing rooms, and the front "desk" was a card table manned by the most depressed looking corporal I've ever seen downing themselves in a very visible bottle of rotgut. West Point, this was not.
My three "companions" were shuffled off to the holding cells, where they would get the chance to have a very colorful conversation with each other, while I was moved up into the second floor flanked by two guards. A short walk past the barracks led me to a door with a plaque labeled "Lt. Jones", the familiar sound of an officer's muffled held-back rage as we was told down not just by his CO, but by someone several ranks above him. You can tell by the angry tint in how they say their CO's title and an over aggressive use of "sir". I didn't even have to hear the other side of the conversation, being both a veteran observer and practitioner of it. As the guard opened the door, I barely got something about an Admiral (likely the man who was chewing him out) and something about a bounty hunter, before there was a hasty apology and the call was ended.
"Connor, you unprofessional hack, how many times have I tol-" The officer halted his rant as he spun in his squeaky chair as saw the subject of his interruption. His temper was quickly swept under the rug and he attempt to uphold the image of his station. Which wasn't very good, as his room revealed how "independent" the man was from the military he served. Like all officer's office, it was decorated to their whim as a bonus for their service, but rather than honors or memorials to previous victories (I suspected there were none) but rather with pictures of family and home on top a real desk, what wasn't taken up by filing cabinets. The man himself was fit and stocky with a tan complexion, black hair with a few white hair and the darkest, most well kept beard I've ever seen. He assume the stock "interested" pose officers liked to do, slightly stooped over with their fingers overlapping each other, but after the twentieth time I've seen that it's lost any kind of intimidation factor for me.
"Please, sit, sit." He offers, holding his hand out to the lone hair across from him in an attempt at friendliness. , I took the seat in order to play along and in the hope he would dismiss the guard. He did not. "So, I am sure you are wondering why you are here"
"I was wondering" I confirmed, folding my arms in annoyance and trying my best to stare the man down form behind the helmet.
"We have been tracking your movements since you've gotten here though" he answer, opening a file he had prepared. I should have figured that the front gate's security was a bit lacking. "And we know that you have been associating with a known wanted criminal" The first picture he put down was of me and Choprot with his little group, followed with another of us boarding his ship. I was alternating between annoyance that that green bastard was still getting me into trouble, and wondering where those cameras were. I eventually decided on questioning what his point was.
"Last I checked, just being in the same room with a criminal is not enough to get you call in by the local rent-a-mooks" The Lieutenant didn't seem phased by that comment, and if anything the corner of his mouth upturned briefly as a secret smile.
"By the authority invested to me by the Empire, I can hold you indefinably under suspicion of criminal activity until evidence of said activity is found" Oh, I was livid at that, gritting me teeth behind my visor. How I wanted to scramble across this man's desk and his forest of picture frames so that I could break every single bone in his face. I almost did, as I gripped my end of the table and planed on how I could take out the two plastic soldiers behind me before I ruined the lieutenant's day and his stupid beard. But this wasn't the only thing he had to say, as he slid a form in front of me
"However, as a prime, the Empire is willing to offer you a deal for both our benefits. We can wave the charges, if you sign on to our cause. I'm sure that someone of your talents would be very appreciated by the Peace Division" Intimidation, extortion, AND baseless flattery. The Empire's bootlickers really do know how to lay it on thick. He had the upper hand, as refusing outright wasn't going to get me out of this office. I had to turn the conversation around and gain an advantage. With guns or with words, you should be always ready to fight for your life.
"You might have the authority to hold me, but you lack the capacity to do so. What you have for a jail cell won't keep me, and if you try to transfer me that's just an opportunity for me to escape. I have more firepower on my back than you do in your entire armory, and if you would let me walk out of here because the alternative is that I level the whole building. And if you DO manage to get me? I'd eat my own gun and I'll come back, and you'll have an angry prime on your hands" If I had disarmed the officer, he was keeping a good poker face. But I could hear the two behind me fidgeting on the spot. They knew I was right. I pressed on and hammered home the point.
"Besides, what would happen if I did agree? I'd get carted off to Coruscant and you'd never see me again, when you probably need me the most. I thought the navy of an ocean verse would have a bigger budget than this" At that I did get something out of the stone faced officer. He bristled, if only for a moment, at what I had figured was some kind of inter-military political drama. These guys weren't navy. The Navy probably had some giant base somewhere on Costa del Sol, not unlike the one on crescent lagoon sans the terrors from the deep, not some confiscated firehouse . The Navy didn't have to deal with the bullshit of keeping the peace and whatever jackass came through the gate every other day. The Navy had a budget bigger than a small nation, not understaffed and under armed. The Lieutenant was recovering, but I went for the killing blow.
"So I have a deal for you. Not this shit," I flicked the form off the table "this is what you give to every Tom, Dick, and Harry you manage to drag in here kicking and screaming. This will actually benefit the both of us, and not just your ass-licking COs. You hire me as a 'private military contract" or whatever bullshit term you call mercs, I help you out, and you erase whatever profile you have on me. You report me as a secondary, and from then on it'll be smooth sailing for everyone. Or I just walk out" I laid down the ultimatum, laming my hands down on the desk to punctuate it for a bit of flair. Despite the sureness I was trying to convey, there was just the tinge of fear that there was something I didn't consider and I had just signed my doom. Which only made the helmet all the more a godsend.
The stand off grew silent, each of us stared the other down as wished for them to yield in some hope of victory. But if there's one thing I know about myself, is that I'm stubborn. Eventually, the officer was the one who backed down, slumping back in his chair. He rested one hand onto his face, contemplated on what he could do, and then pulled another form out of his desk. A different one.
"Alright, you got me. We'll fill the paperwork to classify you as a mercenary, and delete what we've gather so far. You will be given orders directly from us, though as a merc you aren't required to fulfill them." That last part was said in a grumble, but I heard it just fine. "But if you backstab us-"
"You'll blow me to kingdom come and hunt me down to the ends of the earth. Yeah, I've heard that spiel before. Don't worry, I'm VERY good with keeping my word" I cut him off. It had been a long day at this point, and I was hoping to get some rest.
"Right then" he began to fill out the form "Before we start working together, do you have a name I could call you"
"Doomguy" I once again got a raised eyebrow for that "You don't need to know my name, just what to call me. Can I go now?"
He waved me off, dismissing me along with the guard. I had managed to avoid whatever fate the Empire had for me, but I could tell there was still a great deal of distrust in me, and the feeling was mutual. I would be sleeping with one eye open tonight. I'm not sure what the other stormtroopers were expecting when I left their CO's office, but probably not me asking where the beds and armory were. I left the peashooters alone, considering that if I wanted an assault rifle there were plenty form my own world that I would be more comfortable using. I did take several of their med kits and folded them into my pack, but that was a small price for my willingness to work with them rather that shattering their world around their heads.
The sun was set, and fatigue was finally setting in. I had thought I would have a nice break from all the violence from the other day, but I was thrown right back right into the chaos without even a choice in the matter. I hadn't even really recovered from the base raid, the wound from the hybrid's hook still a nasty looking scab. But with a night's sleep, maybe I could finally unwind my nerves into something that doens't want to shoot anything that moves. I would go to the hotel tomorrow, hear out their proposal, and from there decide how I was going eek out an existence in my search for Omni. I didn't quite realize what I had in store for me yet.
----
Lieutenant Jones Abdul waited until the green armored soldier before he cracked the first genuine smile he had all day. Although this "doomguy" may have frustrated him to no end after being bamboozled by the strange soldier, the officer had actually gotten more out of this than he had expected. He thought that he would have to pull strings to get the prime pulled under his command, rather than left with the Peace Corps. Or worse, given to Admiral Kizaru as a personal killer. It would be an insufferable and personal insult if that happened. But the marine had inadvertently fallen into Jones' lap, and now he could look forward to finally having some power in his hands.
"Eagle Eye, have you been listening?" Jones talked to no one particular, knowing that the technological spy was of course doing so. His computer screen flickered on, showing a human draped in poor lighting
"I wouldn't have missed this. Do you want to me to delete the profile, sir?"
"Yes, I do Since he's been so gracious to give us what we want, we should uphold our side of the deal. But keep a copy in a secured file off the grid, in case mr 'Doomguy' decides he no longer wants to keep our company"
"Yes sir" Eagle Eye went to work on that, before returning from a brief silence "Do you think he was bluffing? About what he could do"
"Of course he was" Jones sounded very confident as he opened up one of his drawers, looking for a cigarette and lighter, smile only growing wiser "Primes always think they more powerful than us, but they're not. He wouldn't haven gotten past the door."
"I'm not so sure, sir" the spy answer, typing in something on his side "We've interrogated one of Choprot's crew, or what's left of it. Sir... he was at crescent base" The smile dropped immediately from the lieutenant's face, stopping a moment before he had the cig to his mouth. He heard of the rumors, he read the report. A shiver of dread started to form, but he had to confirm it.
"Was any video recovered?" he asked, and eagle eye answered by sending the file. In moments the officer was watching the security feed that survived, and saw it all. The slaughter, the mania, the damage done by a single man in green armor. And from one of the outside cameras, although from a great distance, he saw the battle with the great beast. At that moment, Jones now saw that his strange bedfellow was not just a threat, but a dangerous individual.
"Who...WHAT is he?"
![[Image: oGzCtPC.png]](http://i.imgur.com/oGzCtPC.png)