Board Thread:General Discussion/@comment-4794494-20140812220517/@comment-4794494-20140812220538

The boat had finally docked at the capital city of Turesta, and all the passengers stood relieved that the week-long voyage was over. The people onboard moved to gather their belongings and prepare to walk down the ramp to the pier. The harbors were always outside the dome that covered the cities, allowing the ships to drop off their loads easily, although in the case of severe weather, the ships were able to enter the protective domes.

A man in a blue dress shirt and khakis grabbed his briefcase and looked around momentarily before departing to the pier. Ahead of him was a checkpoint, the only way of entering the dome, heavily guarded by Chat troopers. The crowd was formed into several lines that all resembled a chain of ants scrambling back into their ant hole.

The man in blue checked his watch, and the directions given to him by his superior; he was pondering over his orders when his turn came for the inspection. The Chat guards began to search him, but he held up his hand, and produced a slip of paper from his pocket, followed by whispering something into the guard’s ear. The guard examined him, then turned back to his sergeant and told him about the man. After the sergeant nods, the man in blue gives a slight bow and smugly proceeds into Turesta without having to take the lengthy inspection.

As he walks through a busy street, he turns around to see a burly, mean looking thug following him closely, and the two made eye-contact before the man in blue quickens his pace, hurrying through the crowd while the thug discreetly tails him. The sight of thugs and mercenaries are fairly uncommon in the major cities, especially the capital, but the citizens are still familiar enough with those types that it doesn’t draw their attention. The thug, seemingly having lost his target, raised his head above the crowd and scanned the area. After a few seconds, he spotted the man in blue again and hastily jogged towards him. The smaller man, having spotted him, ducked into an alleyway.

At the end of the alleyway, overlooking an artificial river that ran into the ocean, the thug slowly approached the cornered man. The man in blue set his briefcase down on a nearby wooden table and opened it. The thug scrutinized the contents, and the duo began to discuss business.

Unknown to the pair, they were being watched from the top of a tower, almost a kilometer away. A man in customized Mandalorian armor watched them through a scope. His finger was lightly rested on the trigger, ready to apply the slightest force and end a life in mere seconds. Next to him was a Kig-Yar, armed with dual energy cutlass’ currently sheathed behind his right shoulder and horizontally across the back of his waist. The Kig-Yar was utilizing his visor binoculars to spot for his partner.

“You’re at 1000 meters, no wind factor, and the gravity in this dome is about 35N. Do you think you can make it?” The translation device strapped to the Jackal’s throat buzzed and announced in a harsh voice.

The sniper did the math inside his head; 1000 feet times muzzle velocity squared over gravity.. Then multiplied by the angle of depreciation. He quickly inhaled, and his heartbeat echoed at his ears. He applied pressure with his finger, and the silenced JW-98 Razer’s shot rang like a tiny echo at the back of his head.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TrebuchetMS';color:#000000;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The Jackal purred satisfaction as he saw both the man in blue and the mercenary drop, spraying a red mist over the former’s briefcase. About two minutes later, another man in a bandana and shades ran up and started to scavenge their bodies, making a hand signal towards the makeshift sniper nest.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TrebuchetMS';color:#000000;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">He spoke into a radio, “You’re gonna like what you see, sir.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TrebuchetMS';color:#000000;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The man in Mandalorian armor replied, “Let’s take a look back at HQ.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TrebuchetMS';color:#000000;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Copy. Pano, out.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TrebuchetMS';color:#000000;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Tyler Alshwind, out.”