Post by RobbyL9 on Oct 5, 2009 22:32:31 GMT -5
(Just pasted from its place in Blades' bio. Enjoy!)
Taris. What a slum! Back in its heyday, the Lower City had been a crime-corrupted corpse pile and even after a few thousand years it hadn't changed. In fact, all time had done was to make the Upper City look more like its trashier compatriots, the Lower and Undercities.
Nevertheless, class struggles created conflict and in the eyes of the two mercenaries fresh off the shuttle this was incredibly good for business.
"Got the gear, brother?" one in a tank top and brown pants asked the other, who wore acid-washed pants and a short sleeved shirt with a rock band's logo on it.
"Right here, pal. And according to this "tourist's map", the elevator to the Lows is a couple blocks up and over." the second one responded pointing to a bag in his hand, and using finger quotes. Seriously, who ever came to Taris as a tourist anymore?
The two of them waited for their baggage in the claim area, which was basically a pile of suitcases being thrown out of the belly of the shuttle. The first mercenary saw his black suitcase with a dagger engraving hit the ground roughly, but didn't flinch. Thank goodness I didn't pack my crystal stemware. he mentally quipped. Without a word he began walking with the case in his hand.
The second mercenary picked up his identical bag, marked instead with a bundle of sticks wrapped together and followed. The Upper City erupted with activity all around them while they walked together.
The recent political moves of the Tarisian elite had angered the working-class dwellers of the Lower City. It was really nothing new, it was only following tradition it seemed. But some of the people the mercs saw holding up signs along the walkway looked ready to kill.
Their eyes went wild as they shouted such slogans as "Our blood, our sweat, your profit!" and "Oligarchy equals anarchy!" The two men did their best to walk along while people shouted and waved their banners at the skyscrapers.
When they reached the elevator and pressed the button for the Lower City and finally received the relief of the soundproof doors closing on the protest, the first one looked at the second. They were alone. Without a word, they both opened the first bag of gear and put on some blast-proof vests and knee pads.
"Brief me." he said, opening his suitcase. Inside lay a menagerie of priceless weapons: two pistols, an assault rifle and a sniper rifle with a scantily clad Mirialan woman kaernen.deviantart.com/art/SW-Babes-Mirialan-94751763 painted on the stock.
"Right. Contact says that these protests have been reaching a boiling point within the last few days. Things are going beyond the normal class struggle and he's afraid that it might escalate into all out war." the second case opened revealing a machine pistol, assault rifle and a sniper rifle with a laser sight and multi-layer scope.
"What makes him say that?" the first one asked, putting on a large holster with slots covering the left of his breast and his right hip. He slipped both pistols into these slots.
The second buckled a utility belt with a carabiner for carrying his machine pistol. He slipped the weapon into place and continued talking "A day ago, he got a call from one of the unions. They said if their demands were not met by a deadline, then this strike would be the least of the Elite's problems."
"When's the deadline, Sticks?"
Sticks shook his head and shrugged "In about an hour, maybe less depending on how defiant the Elite plan to be."
"Fucking rich pukes. We oughta kick some of THEIR asses after this is over."
"Blades! Brother. Don't shoot the hand that pays you, rule number one."
Blades exhaled sharply and finished gearing up. They both worked like clockwork loading and cocking their sniper rifles and slinging them over their shoulders. Blades made sure the "attractive" side of his rifle's stock was showing when he slung his.
Next, the two of them loaded the gas cartriges into their rifles. Blades' was an E-3 with an elongated barrel and full-auto capability. Sticks carried a more classy model, the famous E-11 Mark 2 used by stormtroopers during the GCW. It had a scope, extended cartridge and a fold out stock for added stability. Slinging these two rifles across their fronts, they reached into the bag and pulled out the piece de resistance.
On the other side of the elevator down in the Lower City, the bell dinged. The metallic doors opened, revealing the two mercs fully decked out in their guns, armor and ammo and sporting two unique metallic facemasks which were shaped and flipped up like welding masks.
Sticks' was a Wookiee skull with its mouth open and baring its fangs, which were painted red like it had just torn someone's flesh off. Blades had a Zabrak face, complete with horns and faint tattoos, reading on the forehead in basic "Blast me! I dare you!"
To complete their unveiling for whatever cameras might have been watching the elevator, they looked at each other, exchanged high-fives and flipped their masks down.
For the next few hours, the two of them waited in an abandoned apartment space in the vicinity and finished the briefing. Their intended target if the riot ended up happening would be the union leader, a Mr. Tanis Griffen. He normally ran things from his office in the Lower City, a remodeled swoop bike garage made for his purposes. If the riot ended up happening, they were expected to run into serious armed resistance inside the compound but nothing they couldn't handle.
The two lay in wait, an unnerving quiet brought on by all the citizens being up top protesting. After an hour, Sticks' watch beeped in unison with Blades'... They looked at a live feed from up top using their watches but nothing was happening. The people were quiet and no longer waving their signs. Some of them even looked like they were dispersing. With no sound to the feed, however, the mercs had no idea why they were being so quiet.
But apparently something good had happened, as they all began cheering and jumping up and down. Sticks got out his commlink and called up his contact.
"Yo boss. Sticks. The crowd looks like it's gonna disperse, we free to go?" A brief silence... "Okay, you're the boss." With that, Sticks hung up the commlink and stuffed it in his pocket.
"What'd he say?" Blades asked as his partner got to his feet and he followed suit.
"He said we are to proceed to the union HQ and have a talk with Mr. Griffen. And to be on the lookout if the situation changes. From the sound of things, he was expecting something."
The two flipped their masks up and eyed each other with suspicion and uneasiness at this last statement. They then took off for the union base, leaving their suitcases stashed behind some debris in case a squatter or some wiseguy should come upon them and decide to pawn them for cash.
Their trek took them through an area of the Lower City which didn't have a ceiling. It was at the base of all the modern skyscrapers and buildings which composed the Upper City. And it still retained all of the urban charm which made the Lower City what it was. Junk piles, pieces of stuff blowing around, abandoned speeders lying on the side of the road. This place was definitely worse for wear, no wonder they had been protesting.
As they were walking, a large vibration suddenly shook them all the way to their insides and made them instinctively reach for their assault rifles! It was soon followed by an explosive sound and a distant flash. All of a sudden, the silence of the Lower City was pierced by the shrieks of people in the Upper City which could be heard from all the way down below.
"Think this is what he was expecting, bro?" Blades asked scanning the vicinity with his rifle raised.
"No shit this is what it is, we gotta get to the office pronto!"
They flipped their masks down and flew the rest of the blocks to the union office. Once they got there, Blades rang the buzzer while Sticks watched his back.
"Yes?" a voice from inside asked "Who's there?"
"Postal service." Blades responded with attitude "We were told a package with one hell of a payload was delivered from here and we wanna talk with Mr. Griffen about it!"
"If you try and enter with force, we will open fire." the voice shot back "The workers of the city will not be intimida-" BOOM!
Blades shot an over-charged single at the door lock and busted it open, destroying the speaker in the process. He kicked in the door and caught the man at the intercom by surprise, jamming the butt of his rifle into his face and knocking him out.
"Subtle." Sticks commented rushing in "But effective."
The office was one huge room surrounded by individual rooms and chocked full of cubicles. These guys may have not been Elites but they sure had their stuff together. At the moment it all appeared to be empty and deserted, just like everything else in this part of town.
At the center of the room was a single elevator, marked 'Tanis Griffen, Chairman'. They rushed toward it and almost immediately regretted their decision. Once they were in the center of the room, the union members which had stayed behind emerged from the cubicles on all sides of the two mercenaries. The two of them quickly spun around and tried to make for the exit, but found it had been blocked off by a heavy duty security door.
"This union's no pushover!" one of the armed workers called out "You and the rest of those fascists are going to regret sending you to do their dirty work!"
Blades breathed in and out slowly and whispered something over his shoulder to his blood brother.
The mercenaries held their rifles cautiously and watched as the workers all drew their weapons and took aim. Instinctively, they pressed against each other's backs and started spinning round, taking aim at their ambushers.
Shooing rapid-fire, the two back-to-back soldiers continued to spin round and round like a clock, backs pressed together. They were taking plenty of shots which stung like hell, but not in the places it counted. And in the places they were hit, just like the union professed to be, they weren't pushovers either.
In seconds, the room was filled with holes and the workers had fallen to the ground dead. The inexperienced militiamen never stood a chance with their level of skill and lack of firepower.
Without even giving it a second thought and wanting to avoid a second wave, the two ran for the elevator and pressed the button to take them one floor down into the chairman's office.
The two of them were rushing with adrenaline and starting breathing heavy after the doors shut.
"Sticks! What the hell was that?!"
"We went back to back and knocked off some union workers, nothing major."
"Not that, you idiot. You know what I mean. That enormous explosion that almost hit me at the right frequency to make my piss myself!"
"I don't know, but if I had to guess it is only the beginning of something much bigger."
Blades gasped with widened eyes "Oh! Sweet mother of pearl, you... ARE RIGHT!" he remarked with supreme sarcasm "If you really insist on stating the obvious, at least try and make it sound like it took some effort to scrounge up."
"Ah shut your pie hole, the elevator's stopping." Sticks muttered, picking his rifle back up.
They filed out of the elevator quickly and found themselves in the waiting area of the chairman's office. In front of them was a door with frosted glass and his name on it. As soon as they approached it a blaster bolt shot through it, shattering the glass. They split up and stacked up on both sides of the door for cover.
The blaster fire continued, completely smashing the rest of the glass from the door frame. Inside the office, a man shouted wildly like a wild animal with its tail caught in a harvester.
"Griffen? Is that-?" Blades asked leaning toward the hole in the door and jerking his head back when another bolt came through.
"Yep, it's me all right. And you won't take me alive. This union is-"
"No pushover! Yeah, we got that! But incredibly, we're only here to talk to you."
"Yeah!" Sticks called in "Your boys out there fired first." While he said this, he snuck a quick and daring peek inside the hole at the interior of the office. He noticed the waiting area went around the corner of Griffen's office just enough... He hand-signalled to Blades, who was on that side, to go around and place a directional charge on the wall.
"So why don't you just put your gun down and we'll talk this out man to man?" Sticks continued "You and I can just be alone and I'll tell my partner to keep his brainless mouth shut and stop being a waste of space." Blades opened up one of his pockets and procured some plastique and blasting caps, before swiftly sticking his middle finger around the corner at Sticks who chuckled.
"No deal! You murderers have ONE chance!" Griffen yelled back, loading a couple more blasters and setting them on his desk "Get out and never come back! I have plenty of blasters and firepower in this office. You try and come in and you'll regret it. I may be one man, but I ain't to be underestimated."
Sticks and Blades agreed simultaneously in their minds. He may have been one man, but any cornered animal would fight to the death if it had to. Even a decrepit old working-class fossil like Griffen. And with one entrance to his office, he had a pretty big advantage. That would change in a couple seconds.
"Well look, don't you think that's a little harsh? Calling us murderers?" Sticks asked casually, switching to his machine pistol "I mean it was YOU guys who set that bomb up to blow, after all. Right?" Blades finished wiring the charge and quietly crept back around the corner signalling with a thumbs-up.
"Wow. They don't make mercs like they used to, do they? You imbeciles really think that we were the ones who planted that?"
Blades looked through the window with a dental mirror.
"You guys are nothing but patsies in the Elites little game of power. You actually think they just sent you here to TALK to me?"
The chairman was still crouched behind his desk. It was heavy and metallic and with the amount of distance between it and the placement of the charge, it wouldn't be very affected. He was JUST behind it, they needed him to shift just a little bit for the charge to be effective.
"And even if you do end up getting out alive, which you won't if you kill me, who's to say they won't just cast you aside like they do all of us?!"
Griffen shifted his weight so that he was just the perfect distance from the blast zone and with the right amount of coverage. Just a little more. Sticks tensed his thumb over the button........ Bingo!
BEEP! BOOOOOM! The charge exploded inward into the office. Chunks of incinerated plaster flew into the air and knocked Griffen into his bookshelf with hurricane force. He dropped his blaster to protect his face from the shelf when it collapsed all of its contents onto him.
In seconds the two mercenaries flew in through the two entrances, the old office door and the freshly-created one.
"FREEZE!" Blades yelled coming through the hole and pointing his pistols sideways at Griffen, his arms crossed one on top of the other for no other reason than to look cool.
"Drop it old man! We got you cold!" Sticks demanded jumping up onto the desk and kicking all the blasters out of reach of Griffen except the one in his hand, which he shakily pointed between the two mercenaries. He had gotten up from his fall into the bookcase and now sat with his back against it.
Blades didn't know if it was their masks being down or if this man just had serious Arthritis, but he was as stiff and shaky as a diving board. They stepped closer and tensed their fingers on their triggers which finally made him cave and drop his hand to his side. Sticks jumped down and pinned his hand to the ground with his foot while he took the pistol away.
"Okay old man." Blades said "Now you're going to tell us what you meant by me and my brother being patsies."
"Yeah. Starting with that part about you guys not being the cause of the explosion."
Griffen shook his head and made a sound which could have been a laugh or a cry. He stared up at the two of them and shook his head, eyes closed. "You boys really have no clue." he said "That bomb was sabotage meant for you to have reason to kill me."
"You expect us to believe that?" Sticks said "After you threatened to give my contact trouble if he didn't meet your demands, which he apparently did?"
"I meant I was going to convince more people to go on strike. We always have groups of people continue working, so as not to give away all of our ranks all at once. And I doubt if those promises they gave my people weren't filled with lies and half-truths."
"And what about them casting us aside?"
"They do it to everyone eventually. Me. You. Their own executives." Griffen told them "Where do you think I got all my advisors and office workers? Even if you end up getting back to him you're nothing more than a couple of toys dressed up in flashy costumes with pornographic images on your rifles."
Blades took personal offense to Rose being offended like that and shoved his hands forcefully at the old man. "You snotty little pile of dust." he growled "I oughta put you through right now. Save me the trouble of arresting you."
"Shoot me! You'll make me a martyr and our cause will be larger than ever."
Blades glared and tensed his fingers but Sticks held up his hands, calming him down. But it only relieved him a little bit. An old man had just insulted the only woman in Blades' life and defied him to shoot him. That's MY job! He totally copied that off my mask.
"Look, brother." Sticks leaned in and whispered "We've got him, now let's take him back to the station house and move on." Blades frowned angrily at Griffen, but nodded in agreement.
"No." Griffen said defiantly "Shoot me!"
"Old man, you're crazy. And under arrest." Blades said holstering his left pistol and reaching for his handcuffs.
"Shoot me!" he said again, this time more insistant. He even kicked Blades in the shin to get his point across.
"OW! Bastard!" Blades cried clutching his shin "You have the right to remain unconscious. Anything you say or do ain't gonna be much!"
"SHOOT ME!!!" Griffen suddenly went mad and reached behind his back, as if for a blaster. The two mercs reacted according to instinct and opened fire!
Griffen just froze and allowed his guts to be pumped full of photons. He slumped over against the shelf and rolled over against its side, falling on his face on the floor. It was only after he died and began to bleed all over the carpet that they discovered he had no weapons left.
The two mercenaries just stood and stared at what had just happened. Blades breathed in and out from the adrenaline and shook his head. "He always wanted to be a martyr. He got his wish, yeah?"
Sticks hooked his machine pistol up and switched back to his assault rifle "We'd better get out of here."
"My sentiments exactly. Saya-fuckin'-nara."
They got back in the elevator and rode it up. They didn't encounter any resistance in the lobby. The heavy metal door actually seemed to have been opened for them. They looked at each other, masks flipped up. Then back at the door.
"Just a few blocks until the Upper City elevator." Sticks said, breaking the silence "We can make it."
Blades nodded "Let's do it." he said and held out his hand "Hit me."
The two of them did their secret handshake which they invented in Special Forces and have been perfecting ever since then. Front, back, up, down, finger-lock, turn 'round. Fist bump, thumb tap, and top it off with a gangsta whap! The last movement was the insistance of Blades who always fancied himself a gangsta. That and they could never find anything to rhyme with 'tap'.
They aimed their rifles at the door and shot it to bits with two overcharged singles. They burst out the door and ignored the fact that they had encountered no resistance. They just made a mad dash for the elevator.
They reached it and pressed the button. Then, Blades remembered that the suitcases were still in the apartment and he rushed to get them. No way was he letting go of his luggage, it was one of a kind. Luckily nothing happened then, either.
It would eventually, however. It would.
Taris, A Tale of Two Mercs
Taris. What a slum! Back in its heyday, the Lower City had been a crime-corrupted corpse pile and even after a few thousand years it hadn't changed. In fact, all time had done was to make the Upper City look more like its trashier compatriots, the Lower and Undercities.
Nevertheless, class struggles created conflict and in the eyes of the two mercenaries fresh off the shuttle this was incredibly good for business.
"Got the gear, brother?" one in a tank top and brown pants asked the other, who wore acid-washed pants and a short sleeved shirt with a rock band's logo on it.
"Right here, pal. And according to this "tourist's map", the elevator to the Lows is a couple blocks up and over." the second one responded pointing to a bag in his hand, and using finger quotes. Seriously, who ever came to Taris as a tourist anymore?
The two of them waited for their baggage in the claim area, which was basically a pile of suitcases being thrown out of the belly of the shuttle. The first mercenary saw his black suitcase with a dagger engraving hit the ground roughly, but didn't flinch. Thank goodness I didn't pack my crystal stemware. he mentally quipped. Without a word he began walking with the case in his hand.
The second mercenary picked up his identical bag, marked instead with a bundle of sticks wrapped together and followed. The Upper City erupted with activity all around them while they walked together.
The recent political moves of the Tarisian elite had angered the working-class dwellers of the Lower City. It was really nothing new, it was only following tradition it seemed. But some of the people the mercs saw holding up signs along the walkway looked ready to kill.
Their eyes went wild as they shouted such slogans as "Our blood, our sweat, your profit!" and "Oligarchy equals anarchy!" The two men did their best to walk along while people shouted and waved their banners at the skyscrapers.
When they reached the elevator and pressed the button for the Lower City and finally received the relief of the soundproof doors closing on the protest, the first one looked at the second. They were alone. Without a word, they both opened the first bag of gear and put on some blast-proof vests and knee pads.
"Brief me." he said, opening his suitcase. Inside lay a menagerie of priceless weapons: two pistols, an assault rifle and a sniper rifle with a scantily clad Mirialan woman kaernen.deviantart.com/art/SW-Babes-Mirialan-94751763 painted on the stock.
"Right. Contact says that these protests have been reaching a boiling point within the last few days. Things are going beyond the normal class struggle and he's afraid that it might escalate into all out war." the second case opened revealing a machine pistol, assault rifle and a sniper rifle with a laser sight and multi-layer scope.
"What makes him say that?" the first one asked, putting on a large holster with slots covering the left of his breast and his right hip. He slipped both pistols into these slots.
The second buckled a utility belt with a carabiner for carrying his machine pistol. He slipped the weapon into place and continued talking "A day ago, he got a call from one of the unions. They said if their demands were not met by a deadline, then this strike would be the least of the Elite's problems."
"When's the deadline, Sticks?"
Sticks shook his head and shrugged "In about an hour, maybe less depending on how defiant the Elite plan to be."
"Fucking rich pukes. We oughta kick some of THEIR asses after this is over."
"Blades! Brother. Don't shoot the hand that pays you, rule number one."
Blades exhaled sharply and finished gearing up. They both worked like clockwork loading and cocking their sniper rifles and slinging them over their shoulders. Blades made sure the "attractive" side of his rifle's stock was showing when he slung his.
Next, the two of them loaded the gas cartriges into their rifles. Blades' was an E-3 with an elongated barrel and full-auto capability. Sticks carried a more classy model, the famous E-11 Mark 2 used by stormtroopers during the GCW. It had a scope, extended cartridge and a fold out stock for added stability. Slinging these two rifles across their fronts, they reached into the bag and pulled out the piece de resistance.
On the other side of the elevator down in the Lower City, the bell dinged. The metallic doors opened, revealing the two mercs fully decked out in their guns, armor and ammo and sporting two unique metallic facemasks which were shaped and flipped up like welding masks.
Sticks' was a Wookiee skull with its mouth open and baring its fangs, which were painted red like it had just torn someone's flesh off. Blades had a Zabrak face, complete with horns and faint tattoos, reading on the forehead in basic "Blast me! I dare you!"
To complete their unveiling for whatever cameras might have been watching the elevator, they looked at each other, exchanged high-fives and flipped their masks down.
For the next few hours, the two of them waited in an abandoned apartment space in the vicinity and finished the briefing. Their intended target if the riot ended up happening would be the union leader, a Mr. Tanis Griffen. He normally ran things from his office in the Lower City, a remodeled swoop bike garage made for his purposes. If the riot ended up happening, they were expected to run into serious armed resistance inside the compound but nothing they couldn't handle.
The two lay in wait, an unnerving quiet brought on by all the citizens being up top protesting. After an hour, Sticks' watch beeped in unison with Blades'... They looked at a live feed from up top using their watches but nothing was happening. The people were quiet and no longer waving their signs. Some of them even looked like they were dispersing. With no sound to the feed, however, the mercs had no idea why they were being so quiet.
But apparently something good had happened, as they all began cheering and jumping up and down. Sticks got out his commlink and called up his contact.
"Yo boss. Sticks. The crowd looks like it's gonna disperse, we free to go?" A brief silence... "Okay, you're the boss." With that, Sticks hung up the commlink and stuffed it in his pocket.
"What'd he say?" Blades asked as his partner got to his feet and he followed suit.
"He said we are to proceed to the union HQ and have a talk with Mr. Griffen. And to be on the lookout if the situation changes. From the sound of things, he was expecting something."
The two flipped their masks up and eyed each other with suspicion and uneasiness at this last statement. They then took off for the union base, leaving their suitcases stashed behind some debris in case a squatter or some wiseguy should come upon them and decide to pawn them for cash.
Their trek took them through an area of the Lower City which didn't have a ceiling. It was at the base of all the modern skyscrapers and buildings which composed the Upper City. And it still retained all of the urban charm which made the Lower City what it was. Junk piles, pieces of stuff blowing around, abandoned speeders lying on the side of the road. This place was definitely worse for wear, no wonder they had been protesting.
As they were walking, a large vibration suddenly shook them all the way to their insides and made them instinctively reach for their assault rifles! It was soon followed by an explosive sound and a distant flash. All of a sudden, the silence of the Lower City was pierced by the shrieks of people in the Upper City which could be heard from all the way down below.
"Think this is what he was expecting, bro?" Blades asked scanning the vicinity with his rifle raised.
"No shit this is what it is, we gotta get to the office pronto!"
They flipped their masks down and flew the rest of the blocks to the union office. Once they got there, Blades rang the buzzer while Sticks watched his back.
"Yes?" a voice from inside asked "Who's there?"
"Postal service." Blades responded with attitude "We were told a package with one hell of a payload was delivered from here and we wanna talk with Mr. Griffen about it!"
"If you try and enter with force, we will open fire." the voice shot back "The workers of the city will not be intimida-" BOOM!
Blades shot an over-charged single at the door lock and busted it open, destroying the speaker in the process. He kicked in the door and caught the man at the intercom by surprise, jamming the butt of his rifle into his face and knocking him out.
"Subtle." Sticks commented rushing in "But effective."
The office was one huge room surrounded by individual rooms and chocked full of cubicles. These guys may have not been Elites but they sure had their stuff together. At the moment it all appeared to be empty and deserted, just like everything else in this part of town.
At the center of the room was a single elevator, marked 'Tanis Griffen, Chairman'. They rushed toward it and almost immediately regretted their decision. Once they were in the center of the room, the union members which had stayed behind emerged from the cubicles on all sides of the two mercenaries. The two of them quickly spun around and tried to make for the exit, but found it had been blocked off by a heavy duty security door.
"This union's no pushover!" one of the armed workers called out "You and the rest of those fascists are going to regret sending you to do their dirty work!"
Blades breathed in and out slowly and whispered something over his shoulder to his blood brother.
The mercenaries held their rifles cautiously and watched as the workers all drew their weapons and took aim. Instinctively, they pressed against each other's backs and started spinning round, taking aim at their ambushers.
Shooing rapid-fire, the two back-to-back soldiers continued to spin round and round like a clock, backs pressed together. They were taking plenty of shots which stung like hell, but not in the places it counted. And in the places they were hit, just like the union professed to be, they weren't pushovers either.
In seconds, the room was filled with holes and the workers had fallen to the ground dead. The inexperienced militiamen never stood a chance with their level of skill and lack of firepower.
Without even giving it a second thought and wanting to avoid a second wave, the two ran for the elevator and pressed the button to take them one floor down into the chairman's office.
The two of them were rushing with adrenaline and starting breathing heavy after the doors shut.
"Sticks! What the hell was that?!"
"We went back to back and knocked off some union workers, nothing major."
"Not that, you idiot. You know what I mean. That enormous explosion that almost hit me at the right frequency to make my piss myself!"
"I don't know, but if I had to guess it is only the beginning of something much bigger."
Blades gasped with widened eyes "Oh! Sweet mother of pearl, you... ARE RIGHT!" he remarked with supreme sarcasm "If you really insist on stating the obvious, at least try and make it sound like it took some effort to scrounge up."
"Ah shut your pie hole, the elevator's stopping." Sticks muttered, picking his rifle back up.
They filed out of the elevator quickly and found themselves in the waiting area of the chairman's office. In front of them was a door with frosted glass and his name on it. As soon as they approached it a blaster bolt shot through it, shattering the glass. They split up and stacked up on both sides of the door for cover.
The blaster fire continued, completely smashing the rest of the glass from the door frame. Inside the office, a man shouted wildly like a wild animal with its tail caught in a harvester.
"Griffen? Is that-?" Blades asked leaning toward the hole in the door and jerking his head back when another bolt came through.
"Yep, it's me all right. And you won't take me alive. This union is-"
"No pushover! Yeah, we got that! But incredibly, we're only here to talk to you."
"Yeah!" Sticks called in "Your boys out there fired first." While he said this, he snuck a quick and daring peek inside the hole at the interior of the office. He noticed the waiting area went around the corner of Griffen's office just enough... He hand-signalled to Blades, who was on that side, to go around and place a directional charge on the wall.
"So why don't you just put your gun down and we'll talk this out man to man?" Sticks continued "You and I can just be alone and I'll tell my partner to keep his brainless mouth shut and stop being a waste of space." Blades opened up one of his pockets and procured some plastique and blasting caps, before swiftly sticking his middle finger around the corner at Sticks who chuckled.
"No deal! You murderers have ONE chance!" Griffen yelled back, loading a couple more blasters and setting them on his desk "Get out and never come back! I have plenty of blasters and firepower in this office. You try and come in and you'll regret it. I may be one man, but I ain't to be underestimated."
Sticks and Blades agreed simultaneously in their minds. He may have been one man, but any cornered animal would fight to the death if it had to. Even a decrepit old working-class fossil like Griffen. And with one entrance to his office, he had a pretty big advantage. That would change in a couple seconds.
"Well look, don't you think that's a little harsh? Calling us murderers?" Sticks asked casually, switching to his machine pistol "I mean it was YOU guys who set that bomb up to blow, after all. Right?" Blades finished wiring the charge and quietly crept back around the corner signalling with a thumbs-up.
"Wow. They don't make mercs like they used to, do they? You imbeciles really think that we were the ones who planted that?"
Blades looked through the window with a dental mirror.
"You guys are nothing but patsies in the Elites little game of power. You actually think they just sent you here to TALK to me?"
The chairman was still crouched behind his desk. It was heavy and metallic and with the amount of distance between it and the placement of the charge, it wouldn't be very affected. He was JUST behind it, they needed him to shift just a little bit for the charge to be effective.
"And even if you do end up getting out alive, which you won't if you kill me, who's to say they won't just cast you aside like they do all of us?!"
Griffen shifted his weight so that he was just the perfect distance from the blast zone and with the right amount of coverage. Just a little more. Sticks tensed his thumb over the button........ Bingo!
BEEP! BOOOOOM! The charge exploded inward into the office. Chunks of incinerated plaster flew into the air and knocked Griffen into his bookshelf with hurricane force. He dropped his blaster to protect his face from the shelf when it collapsed all of its contents onto him.
In seconds the two mercenaries flew in through the two entrances, the old office door and the freshly-created one.
"FREEZE!" Blades yelled coming through the hole and pointing his pistols sideways at Griffen, his arms crossed one on top of the other for no other reason than to look cool.
"Drop it old man! We got you cold!" Sticks demanded jumping up onto the desk and kicking all the blasters out of reach of Griffen except the one in his hand, which he shakily pointed between the two mercenaries. He had gotten up from his fall into the bookcase and now sat with his back against it.
Blades didn't know if it was their masks being down or if this man just had serious Arthritis, but he was as stiff and shaky as a diving board. They stepped closer and tensed their fingers on their triggers which finally made him cave and drop his hand to his side. Sticks jumped down and pinned his hand to the ground with his foot while he took the pistol away.
"Okay old man." Blades said "Now you're going to tell us what you meant by me and my brother being patsies."
"Yeah. Starting with that part about you guys not being the cause of the explosion."
Griffen shook his head and made a sound which could have been a laugh or a cry. He stared up at the two of them and shook his head, eyes closed. "You boys really have no clue." he said "That bomb was sabotage meant for you to have reason to kill me."
"You expect us to believe that?" Sticks said "After you threatened to give my contact trouble if he didn't meet your demands, which he apparently did?"
"I meant I was going to convince more people to go on strike. We always have groups of people continue working, so as not to give away all of our ranks all at once. And I doubt if those promises they gave my people weren't filled with lies and half-truths."
"And what about them casting us aside?"
"They do it to everyone eventually. Me. You. Their own executives." Griffen told them "Where do you think I got all my advisors and office workers? Even if you end up getting back to him you're nothing more than a couple of toys dressed up in flashy costumes with pornographic images on your rifles."
Blades took personal offense to Rose being offended like that and shoved his hands forcefully at the old man. "You snotty little pile of dust." he growled "I oughta put you through right now. Save me the trouble of arresting you."
"Shoot me! You'll make me a martyr and our cause will be larger than ever."
Blades glared and tensed his fingers but Sticks held up his hands, calming him down. But it only relieved him a little bit. An old man had just insulted the only woman in Blades' life and defied him to shoot him. That's MY job! He totally copied that off my mask.
"Look, brother." Sticks leaned in and whispered "We've got him, now let's take him back to the station house and move on." Blades frowned angrily at Griffen, but nodded in agreement.
"No." Griffen said defiantly "Shoot me!"
"Old man, you're crazy. And under arrest." Blades said holstering his left pistol and reaching for his handcuffs.
"Shoot me!" he said again, this time more insistant. He even kicked Blades in the shin to get his point across.
"OW! Bastard!" Blades cried clutching his shin "You have the right to remain unconscious. Anything you say or do ain't gonna be much!"
"SHOOT ME!!!" Griffen suddenly went mad and reached behind his back, as if for a blaster. The two mercs reacted according to instinct and opened fire!
Griffen just froze and allowed his guts to be pumped full of photons. He slumped over against the shelf and rolled over against its side, falling on his face on the floor. It was only after he died and began to bleed all over the carpet that they discovered he had no weapons left.
The two mercenaries just stood and stared at what had just happened. Blades breathed in and out from the adrenaline and shook his head. "He always wanted to be a martyr. He got his wish, yeah?"
Sticks hooked his machine pistol up and switched back to his assault rifle "We'd better get out of here."
"My sentiments exactly. Saya-fuckin'-nara."
They got back in the elevator and rode it up. They didn't encounter any resistance in the lobby. The heavy metal door actually seemed to have been opened for them. They looked at each other, masks flipped up. Then back at the door.
"Just a few blocks until the Upper City elevator." Sticks said, breaking the silence "We can make it."
Blades nodded "Let's do it." he said and held out his hand "Hit me."
The two of them did their secret handshake which they invented in Special Forces and have been perfecting ever since then. Front, back, up, down, finger-lock, turn 'round. Fist bump, thumb tap, and top it off with a gangsta whap! The last movement was the insistance of Blades who always fancied himself a gangsta. That and they could never find anything to rhyme with 'tap'.
They aimed their rifles at the door and shot it to bits with two overcharged singles. They burst out the door and ignored the fact that they had encountered no resistance. They just made a mad dash for the elevator.
They reached it and pressed the button. Then, Blades remembered that the suitcases were still in the apartment and he rushed to get them. No way was he letting go of his luggage, it was one of a kind. Luckily nothing happened then, either.
It would eventually, however. It would.