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The Searing Sword
#9
Damn....hotheaded Primes...think they can get away with anything nowadays... Continuing his show of futilely trying to keep himself from being choked out, the Stormtrooper commander of the small eight-man unit subtly put his plan into motion while Warren was distracted tossing out orders like he owned the city. He had one advantage that the newly arrived arrogance-bearing man seemed to have forgotten about. He might have gotten his men to toss away their comm units, but he still had his. It only took a thought, and the external speakers on his helmet were disabled, and the vacuum seals on his armor activated. He was shut in a bone-white, self-contained, plasteel atmosphere of his very own.

And it was soundproof.

"This is Sergeant Roche, EPD patrol unit 417...we have a situation..." he wheezed past the deathgrip Warren had on his throat. "Investigated explosive going off...Prime was working on weapons. It's turned to hostilities...hostage taken, squad disarmed. External audio receptors are online; you should have a feed of the demands this crazy fool is making. Requesting backup."

"We read you, Sergeant. Keep your audio receptor and comm unit online, play along with whatever this hotshot wants. We've got a unit on the way. You'll be glad to know that specialist Scope is leading the charge."

"Scope?! Crazy bastard...never thought I'd be glad to hear he was on his way..." He coughed, redoubling his efforts to pry Warren's grip away from his throat as he unsealed his suit, re-opening the internal speaker so his voice was audible again. "D-Do it...go get this damn knucklehead his supplies...this is a code red, boys..." He sucked in a long, slow breath. "...comply with the deranged Prime. Just like basic taught you."

"....understood, sir." Each and every one of them sporting an expression like they'd been forcefed something incredibly unpleasant, the group of stormtroopers filed out, one of them collecting the tabled Warren pointed out as he did so. "Gonna be tough to get all this shit together without going through proper channels..." He looked back over his shoulder as he left the warehouse. "Hope you got the patience of a saint, 'cause you're makin' this harder than it has to be. Don't go anywhere now, ya bastard." And he was gone.

"You realize..." Roche wheezed. "...you're not going to get away with this, even if you do manage to get out of Coruscant?"


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The Searing Sword - by Jack Darby - 04-06-2016, 09:28 PM

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