Hunt

[The Future Warrior]

Elliot Hunt was many things. Flippant, cocky, self-assured, actually reasonably competent, and above all, possessing ample common sense. When he'd been assigned that little blue bundle of naivety and silliness as his Prime partner, he'd almost felt like it was punishment for always putting in the bare amount of effort. But he had put up with it. Done his job. And he'd done it damn well. Had to, to make up for the lack of planning and forethought blue put forth. She was...she wasn't incompetent. Far from it. She was... She was a nightmare to deal with for another reason though. Couldn't predict her. Couldn't get a read on her. She always kept doing something unpredictable. Going from naive and so easy to get her to do anything to alarmingly competent and observant in the blink of an eye.

A headache to deal with.

...of course, for all that headache, he could sure have used her help now. Unpredictability in how she would act or go about doing something aside, Elliot Hunt had learned one thing about her very well: she was good at creating a ruckus and being a distraction. As he was looking over the paperwork and instructions for his latest assignment while his new friend was on some down time, he was suddenly really wishing she was around. Her particular brand of distraction, charging right in and literally kicking the door down to put all the focus on her so he could get to his preferred business of being a sneak and securing things from out of the public eye, would have been really nice.

He tossed the folder onto the desk in front of him, looking up over it at the neutral expression of one sergeant Sull. "C'mon, sarge, you know I don't do well with this kinda thing. You got someone else you can give this to, don't you?"

Sull forced his expression to remain neutral and calm as he let out a long, deep breath. "Yeah. We have others we could give it to. New recruits, with no real experience. And they need someone who actually knows to duck when they get shot at for this one."

"Oh really? Well you got the wrong guy." Hunt shook his head. "I don't duck when I get shot at. I dive for cover and then run like my ass was on fire and my hair was about to catch."

"Usually that saying's the other way around," Sull pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, whatever," Hunt waved a hand dismissively. "Point is, either way, you're on fire from head to sitting parts. And quite frankly, I like both of those parts to be not on fire."

"Everyone likes those parts to not be on fire, Hunt. That's why we're sending you. You have a knack for only winding up with one actually on fire." Sull tapped on the folder meaningfully. "You know to actually run for cover when things get rough. And when to get out if things start going really bad." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "And you know when not to try and be a hero."

"Ah, hell, sarge..." Hunt ran a hand through his hair. "...alright, alright, ya got me. I'll do it. Just...I'm not gonna be the only one, am I?"

"No. Won't be just you, Hunt. This is an assignment, after all. Not a death sentence."

"Alright, alright..." The stormtrooper lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "So who am I getting grouped up with?"

"Pala and Lesath." Sull immediately went on over the sputtering of protest. "They've been selected to complement what you're good at, Hunt. You know Pala's reputation. And Lesath's lack of one. There's a good reason for that. They'll both be good help."

"If I die out there, Sarge, I'm never speaking to you again," Hunt mumbled, face in his hands.

"Noted. Now get a move on. Go get geared up and meet up at the gate in an hour."

"Better be gettin' hazard pay for this." Hunt got up, grumpily picking up the folder and looking at the name stamped on the front. 'Epoch.' Just sounded like all sorts of fun.

"Mission's only as hazardous as you make it!" Sull snapped.

"Wasn't talkin' about the mission!" Hunt voiced in response, shutting the office door behind him.

[The Future Warrior]

Hunt was never one to really let a bad mood get to him, or keep him down. That just wasn't his style. But even he knew when something was worth getting bent out of shape for more than a little while over. And getting teamed up with a pair like Pala and Lesath...ugh. He wished even more for his energetic, unpredictable blue partner. At least she was a brand of crazy that wasn't directly hazardous to his health. Keeping up with her and covering for her craziness was liable to get him knocked on his ass time and time again, but he could deal with that. Some bandages, maybe a hospital stay or a bath in some bacta, and he'd be back on his feet in no time.

But these two? They were a menace.

Pala was a brick wall. A walking, talking, (barely) thinking, angry brick wall. He broke down other walls for their base components and made new doors where there shouldn't have been doors. Weapons were optional for him more often than not, and it was all anyone assigned to work with him could do to keep up and stop him from getting himself (or the rest of them) killed. He was strong, he was tough, and there were rumors he'd stared people into submission under sheer weight of angry. But he was wild, aggressive, reckless and unpredictable. He was a major asset if you kept him pointed at the enemy, and got him in close enough to start doing damage. But if you had to have him on your side, you might want to see about getting a nice pine box made up ahead of time.

And then there was Lesath. She was a ghost. Literally. No one knew anything about her. Teams she was assigned to work with just...never really had much to say about her. Never said a word, far as anyone could recall. Wizard with computers, and a hell of a scout. Reconnaissance, intel spreading, and keeping an eye on enemy movements. She was a major asset, but there was just...something about her. Some kind of jinx. Every time she went out on a mission, something went horribly wrong. It always ended in a success, somehow or other, but not everyone came back in one piece. If everyone came back at all. Some of them wound up really needing one of those pine boxes. Having her along was basically a sign at this point. The "You're gonna finish this mission, but have your affairs in order." kind of sign. It never made anyone feel particularly pleasant, or get that warm, fuzzy feeling.

This was what he had to work with now. This is what was going to finally kill him. Days like this were where he hated his life. Hated his life, packed an extra energy cell for his blaster, and grabbed two extra emergency medkits. "Right into the danger zone, this time around..." he muttered, checking over his equipment again. Gotten new armor, since that mess with the Vorticons or whatever down in the lower tiers. Old set had been pretty well trashed after that chaos. Still the same helmet, though. He'd just about gotten the stink of those lower tiers out of it.

Luckily...this time around he wasn't gonna be needing his armor. Too conspicuous, for where he was headed. Out of Empire territory, to go track down some rogue agent. Given what he'd read up on about the guy, the assignment of Pala at least made sense. That level of sheer directed mass of angry would come in handy, against someone like Epoch. Half the info about the guy was blacked out and confidential, even to the group going out to kill or capture him. Preferably capture, as killing him didn't seem to stick. He had a habit of showing up again and again. Fuckin' cyber-ninjas. Never stayed dead. Never learned what was good for 'em.

And now they were sending him out to fucking track down one. Track down a god damn cyber-ninja. Who APPARENTLY had time manipulating powers. And all kinds of fucking stupid technology he'd stolen when he ditched. He was like a one-man army. Unless you could get him out in the open and fight him squarely, he was a nightmare.

"I hate my job sometimes," Hunt grumbled, shutting his locker and leaning his forehead against it for a good, long while. "I really...really fucking do..." He sighed, reaching down to pick up his bag of equipment and slung it up, over one shoulder. "But at least it's a job I don't consistently hate. That'd be a nightmare. Might actually consider not coming into work or something. Boy, now, that'd be a novel concept, eh?" Grumbling to himself the whole way, off he went, on his way.