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Fuck… everyone thought they were killing machines these days.
A line of redshirts spilled out of a large, domed building in the middle of Karim, all pointing and whispering excitedly about the huge banner that’d popped up a few days back. Dante’s Abyss. Fennec wanted to puke at the thought.
Since when had killing become so commercial? Fifty-eight years she’d been spinning around the Crossroads’ star on this planet and that one, working as one of the best – and most discreet – mercenaries the galaxy had ever known. In all that time, she’d never seen anything like the rampant disregard for the art of violence that this whole murder comet shenanigans brought about. She swore to the Arbiters that all those randoms dropping in from other dimensions was the worst fucking thing to ever happen to the Crossroads.
She sipped her bantha blaster, judgment swimming in her eyes. The pathetic fucks that were trying their hand at this year’s competition would never compare to her; she’d been in his game far too long to be shown up by any amateur psychopaths. When the competition had first popped up, she’d spared the briefest thought on entering and showing them all what a real expert looked like. That had quickly faded, though, when she’d realized one key factor:
This was all beneath her.
She had to admit, though: watching the would-be killers line up for their impending doom was ever so slightly entertaining. At least, it’d help pass the time till her mark arrived.
She hadn’t been on Mesa Roja long, and didn’t plan on staying. A prolonged vacation on Nos’talgia had led to a light wallet, which had led to a job of necessity, which had led her to this garbage heap. Now, she waited – rather impatiently – for her target to arrive, so she could kill them and get on with her life. She hadn’t exactly decided where she’d be bound for next, but she needed enough money for an extended stay somewhere, and this job supposedly was going to provide that.
Clink clink clink.
Fennec’s gaze traveled to the freshly opened door of the establishment, where – sure enough – the man in the dazzling white suit with the red plom bloom on his lapel waltzed in. He looked altogether too high fashion for this dump of a disc planet, with his perfectly-tailored outfit and delicately coiffed hair. A thin moustache danced just above his upper lip, and his eyes flitted furtively around the bar, ostensibly looking for a place to sit. Fennec sighed, bored. This would be too easy, then.
She stood from her window-side table. He wouldn’t have any time to find his own place to take a load off, because with any luck, she’d have ended his life and hopped on the next transport out of here within the next two beats of this story. Her armor clunked as she stood; she lifted her helmet off the table and slid it on, pushing past a nearby table and angling directly for the wealthy mark.
She scowled as she pressed toward him. He’d been sold to her as a master codebreaker, but he looked like someone more at home in Arcadia’s rich galas than in the backrooms of their banks. As she approached – more clumsily than usual, perhaps, due to her disinterest, but still with the fervor of a master assassin – he clocked her. She readied herself to sprint after him if he ran, but strangely… he didn’t. He simply smirked.
“Should’ve run when you had the chance,” she shrugged, lifting a vibro-dagger out of her belt. She clicked the button on the hilt, the purple energy field springing up around its blade as she lunged between two tables and aimed it directly for his neck. The patrons around her gasped and exploded from their seats, dodging out of the way of the oncoming assassination, but the master codebreaker made no such evasive manuevers. He lifted his cane, striking the dagger away and, much to the bounty hunter’s shock, knocking Fennec off-balance.
The woman stumbled, releasing a confused grunt as she turned and lifted the dagger again. The codebreaker flicked his cane up, knocking the dagger out of Fennec’s hand and sending it flying across the room. It stuck in a table several meters away, leaving the woman’s eyes wide as she turned back to face her mark.
She let a split second go by before she readied to lunge again.
“Uh, uh, uh,” the codebreaker lifted a finger. He reached out and grabbed a chair from one of the newly vacated tables nearby, slid it closer to him, and plopped down. Fennec stared, more than a little shocked, as he gestured for her to sit in the seat opposite him.
She blinked for a moment, the pieces starting to fit. She’d been in this business too long for behavior such as this not to lead to a logical conclusion.
“You’re the one who hired me,” she observed.
The ‘master codebreaker’ – if that was really his identity at all – smirked.
“Good,” he nodded, “they told me you were quick, and it seems you are.”
“The quickest,” Fennec said, sliding into the chair opposite him.
“I beg to differ,” the codebreaker chuckled, lifting his cane and pointing toward the dagger impaling a nearby table. Scared, confused patrons stared at it in awe. “Nevertheless, you should do.”
Fennec lifted her helmet off of her head. She didn’t like being toyed with, and this odd man seemed content to treat her like one of his playthings before getting down to brass tax of what, exactly, was going to start lining her pockets. “Did you bring me here to speak in riddles, codebreaker?”
He chuckled. “Not at all, ma’am, not at all.”
“Then, the point,” she leaned forward, slamming her helmet on the table. “Let’s get to it.”
“Right-o,” he smiled, also leaning forward. Their noses were so close together they almost touched. Fennec played the game for a moment, then backed away. This motherfucker was weird.
“You’ve been hired for a job,” he continued, “and, as you’ve so astutely guessed, madam, I am your employer. You understand that because of the complex and challenging nature of this job, I naturally would want to see a demonstration of your skills before committing to hiring you.”
“And now you have,” Fennec scowled, “so what’s the gig?”
The codebreaker blinked for a moment, then started to laugh.
Fennec was not nearly so amused.
“You think this was the test?”
Frankly, she did not have time for this. She needed Coin, and she needed it now, and if he was going to treat her like a doll instead of the esteemed bounty hunter she was, then she was going to get the fuck out of dodge, find another job, and subsequently another way off of this fucking disc. She wouldn’t be dragged about, and she wouldn’t be underestimated. So, without as much as another word, she grabbed her helmet, pushed out of her chair, and started to head towards the door.
“You’re to go to Inverxe,” he called after her, “to the surface of the moon.” The bounty hunter stopped dead in her tracks. In all her time in the Crossroads, few dared to travel to the actual moon itself – she’d been on the Hub, certainly, but even she hadn’t deigned to launch herself into the hellmouth that was the ice moon. Arbiter only knew what sort of beasts and monsters lurked there, and if reports were true, the Unmaking had it in their grasp now, making it all the more formidable a challenge. Or, perhaps, she thought, ‘challenge’ was too kind a word. ‘Planet-sized death wish,’ more like.
“And what makes you think I’d want to take a job on that frozen husk of a moon in the first place?” she spat, whipping around.
The codebreaker smirked. He reached into the inside pocket of his snow-white jacket, pulled out a small tablet, and slid it across the table. Fennec cautiously walked back over, picked it up, and glanced down at the screen. The sheer amount of Coin he had in his accounts was… unthinkable, certainly.
“At least a fraction of my wealth is yours if you complete the job I have for you,” he muttered, furtively leaning towards his chosen bounty hunter.
She scoffed, and tossed the tablet down. “What’s the job?”
The codebreaker shook his head. “No, no,” he lifted a finger, “first: the test.”
Fennec sighed, crossing her arms. “Alright, I’ll bite,” she rolled her eyes, “what do you want me to do? Who am I going after this time?”
A glint appeared in the man’s eyes that, frankly, Fennec didn’t like. He moved his finger across his face, extending his arm and pointing out the window. Fennec followed where he pointed, her eyes landing on the line of redshirts signing up for this year’s iteration of Dante’s Abyss.
“...absolutely not.”
***
“State your name for the cameras.”
“Fennec Shand.”
“Pretty name,” the bubbly Twi’lek in charge of registration smiled at her. Fennec’s scowl was unmoving. “Wanna tell us about yourself, Ms. Shand?”
“No,” Fennec stated flatly.
“Uh – alright, I guess,” the girl shrugged, scribbling something on her clipboard. “Well, what will you bring to the competition?”
Fennec brushed past the Twi’lek, walking toward the teleporter. Just as she was about to step on, she stopped, and turned back towards the girl.
“Enough.”
A line of redshirts spilled out of a large, domed building in the middle of Karim, all pointing and whispering excitedly about the huge banner that’d popped up a few days back. Dante’s Abyss. Fennec wanted to puke at the thought.
Since when had killing become so commercial? Fifty-eight years she’d been spinning around the Crossroads’ star on this planet and that one, working as one of the best – and most discreet – mercenaries the galaxy had ever known. In all that time, she’d never seen anything like the rampant disregard for the art of violence that this whole murder comet shenanigans brought about. She swore to the Arbiters that all those randoms dropping in from other dimensions was the worst fucking thing to ever happen to the Crossroads.
She sipped her bantha blaster, judgment swimming in her eyes. The pathetic fucks that were trying their hand at this year’s competition would never compare to her; she’d been in his game far too long to be shown up by any amateur psychopaths. When the competition had first popped up, she’d spared the briefest thought on entering and showing them all what a real expert looked like. That had quickly faded, though, when she’d realized one key factor:
This was all beneath her.
She had to admit, though: watching the would-be killers line up for their impending doom was ever so slightly entertaining. At least, it’d help pass the time till her mark arrived.
She hadn’t been on Mesa Roja long, and didn’t plan on staying. A prolonged vacation on Nos’talgia had led to a light wallet, which had led to a job of necessity, which had led her to this garbage heap. Now, she waited – rather impatiently – for her target to arrive, so she could kill them and get on with her life. She hadn’t exactly decided where she’d be bound for next, but she needed enough money for an extended stay somewhere, and this job supposedly was going to provide that.
Clink clink clink.
Fennec’s gaze traveled to the freshly opened door of the establishment, where – sure enough – the man in the dazzling white suit with the red plom bloom on his lapel waltzed in. He looked altogether too high fashion for this dump of a disc planet, with his perfectly-tailored outfit and delicately coiffed hair. A thin moustache danced just above his upper lip, and his eyes flitted furtively around the bar, ostensibly looking for a place to sit. Fennec sighed, bored. This would be too easy, then.
She stood from her window-side table. He wouldn’t have any time to find his own place to take a load off, because with any luck, she’d have ended his life and hopped on the next transport out of here within the next two beats of this story. Her armor clunked as she stood; she lifted her helmet off the table and slid it on, pushing past a nearby table and angling directly for the wealthy mark.
She scowled as she pressed toward him. He’d been sold to her as a master codebreaker, but he looked like someone more at home in Arcadia’s rich galas than in the backrooms of their banks. As she approached – more clumsily than usual, perhaps, due to her disinterest, but still with the fervor of a master assassin – he clocked her. She readied herself to sprint after him if he ran, but strangely… he didn’t. He simply smirked.
“Should’ve run when you had the chance,” she shrugged, lifting a vibro-dagger out of her belt. She clicked the button on the hilt, the purple energy field springing up around its blade as she lunged between two tables and aimed it directly for his neck. The patrons around her gasped and exploded from their seats, dodging out of the way of the oncoming assassination, but the master codebreaker made no such evasive manuevers. He lifted his cane, striking the dagger away and, much to the bounty hunter’s shock, knocking Fennec off-balance.
The woman stumbled, releasing a confused grunt as she turned and lifted the dagger again. The codebreaker flicked his cane up, knocking the dagger out of Fennec’s hand and sending it flying across the room. It stuck in a table several meters away, leaving the woman’s eyes wide as she turned back to face her mark.
She let a split second go by before she readied to lunge again.
“Uh, uh, uh,” the codebreaker lifted a finger. He reached out and grabbed a chair from one of the newly vacated tables nearby, slid it closer to him, and plopped down. Fennec stared, more than a little shocked, as he gestured for her to sit in the seat opposite him.
She blinked for a moment, the pieces starting to fit. She’d been in this business too long for behavior such as this not to lead to a logical conclusion.
“You’re the one who hired me,” she observed.
The ‘master codebreaker’ – if that was really his identity at all – smirked.
“Good,” he nodded, “they told me you were quick, and it seems you are.”
“The quickest,” Fennec said, sliding into the chair opposite him.
“I beg to differ,” the codebreaker chuckled, lifting his cane and pointing toward the dagger impaling a nearby table. Scared, confused patrons stared at it in awe. “Nevertheless, you should do.”
Fennec lifted her helmet off of her head. She didn’t like being toyed with, and this odd man seemed content to treat her like one of his playthings before getting down to brass tax of what, exactly, was going to start lining her pockets. “Did you bring me here to speak in riddles, codebreaker?”
He chuckled. “Not at all, ma’am, not at all.”
“Then, the point,” she leaned forward, slamming her helmet on the table. “Let’s get to it.”
“Right-o,” he smiled, also leaning forward. Their noses were so close together they almost touched. Fennec played the game for a moment, then backed away. This motherfucker was weird.
“You’ve been hired for a job,” he continued, “and, as you’ve so astutely guessed, madam, I am your employer. You understand that because of the complex and challenging nature of this job, I naturally would want to see a demonstration of your skills before committing to hiring you.”
“And now you have,” Fennec scowled, “so what’s the gig?”
The codebreaker blinked for a moment, then started to laugh.
Fennec was not nearly so amused.
“You think this was the test?”
Frankly, she did not have time for this. She needed Coin, and she needed it now, and if he was going to treat her like a doll instead of the esteemed bounty hunter she was, then she was going to get the fuck out of dodge, find another job, and subsequently another way off of this fucking disc. She wouldn’t be dragged about, and she wouldn’t be underestimated. So, without as much as another word, she grabbed her helmet, pushed out of her chair, and started to head towards the door.
“You’re to go to Inverxe,” he called after her, “to the surface of the moon.” The bounty hunter stopped dead in her tracks. In all her time in the Crossroads, few dared to travel to the actual moon itself – she’d been on the Hub, certainly, but even she hadn’t deigned to launch herself into the hellmouth that was the ice moon. Arbiter only knew what sort of beasts and monsters lurked there, and if reports were true, the Unmaking had it in their grasp now, making it all the more formidable a challenge. Or, perhaps, she thought, ‘challenge’ was too kind a word. ‘Planet-sized death wish,’ more like.
“And what makes you think I’d want to take a job on that frozen husk of a moon in the first place?” she spat, whipping around.
The codebreaker smirked. He reached into the inside pocket of his snow-white jacket, pulled out a small tablet, and slid it across the table. Fennec cautiously walked back over, picked it up, and glanced down at the screen. The sheer amount of Coin he had in his accounts was… unthinkable, certainly.
“At least a fraction of my wealth is yours if you complete the job I have for you,” he muttered, furtively leaning towards his chosen bounty hunter.
She scoffed, and tossed the tablet down. “What’s the job?”
The codebreaker shook his head. “No, no,” he lifted a finger, “first: the test.”
Fennec sighed, crossing her arms. “Alright, I’ll bite,” she rolled her eyes, “what do you want me to do? Who am I going after this time?”
A glint appeared in the man’s eyes that, frankly, Fennec didn’t like. He moved his finger across his face, extending his arm and pointing out the window. Fennec followed where he pointed, her eyes landing on the line of redshirts signing up for this year’s iteration of Dante’s Abyss.
“...absolutely not.”
***
“State your name for the cameras.”
“Fennec Shand.”
“Pretty name,” the bubbly Twi’lek in charge of registration smiled at her. Fennec’s scowl was unmoving. “Wanna tell us about yourself, Ms. Shand?”
“No,” Fennec stated flatly.
“Uh – alright, I guess,” the girl shrugged, scribbling something on her clipboard. “Well, what will you bring to the competition?”
Fennec brushed past the Twi’lek, walking toward the teleporter. Just as she was about to step on, she stopped, and turned back towards the girl.
“Enough.”
