04-17-2016, 10:32 PM
Roche let out a hacking cough as the madman released his airway, tunnel vision fading as normal perfusion returned to his brain. “Good idea,” the commander rasped, doing his best to get the words out before continuing his coughing fit. “Trying anything against the Empire is pure stupidity.”
The armored fool remained silent, the pair of glowing violet optics behind his mask narrowing in apparent annoyance.
“I couldn’t care less about your little experiment,” Roche continued, stalling for time. “Doesn’t give you the right to make my boys and me your personal hand-servants. You Primes are all the same: entitled elitist scum.”
The stormtrooper commander drew the E-11 blaster from his hip, training the barrel of the firearm on his former captor. Primes themselves were known for being stereotypically impulsive and aggressive, and this coupled with what Roche had just gone through meant he was taking no further chances. With eyes and blaster aimed at the armored man, he reached toward his belt and produced a pair of stuncuffs.
“I don’t know what you think you know or what idiotic plans you’ve got in your crooked head, but it’s best you just submit. Better to be captured than dead.”
”Specialist Scope, have you reached the coordinates?”
The speeder bike slowed to a stop, the engine extinguishing with a dull whine. Its armored rider dismounted effortlessly, leaving it to to float gently in the alleyway between a pair of ruined buildings. Some 100 yards away, the trooper spied his target: the abandoned warehouse that surely housed his prey. Ignoring the inquiry from his comm unit, the marksman drew his rifle and made his way into one of the nearby ruined structures.
Time to go to work…
The armored fool remained silent, the pair of glowing violet optics behind his mask narrowing in apparent annoyance.
“I couldn’t care less about your little experiment,” Roche continued, stalling for time. “Doesn’t give you the right to make my boys and me your personal hand-servants. You Primes are all the same: entitled elitist scum.”
The stormtrooper commander drew the E-11 blaster from his hip, training the barrel of the firearm on his former captor. Primes themselves were known for being stereotypically impulsive and aggressive, and this coupled with what Roche had just gone through meant he was taking no further chances. With eyes and blaster aimed at the armored man, he reached toward his belt and produced a pair of stuncuffs.
“I don’t know what you think you know or what idiotic plans you’ve got in your crooked head, but it’s best you just submit. Better to be captured than dead.”
- - -
”Specialist Scope, have you reached the coordinates?”
The speeder bike slowed to a stop, the engine extinguishing with a dull whine. Its armored rider dismounted effortlessly, leaving it to to float gently in the alleyway between a pair of ruined buildings. Some 100 yards away, the trooper spied his target: the abandoned warehouse that surely housed his prey. Ignoring the inquiry from his comm unit, the marksman drew his rifle and made his way into one of the nearby ruined structures.
Time to go to work…