((This thread may contain graphic violence, language, nudity, or various other sorts of tomfoolery at any given moment and all with their own purposes. If these things are not what you personally consider acceptable, stay away and don't look at the bigger picture. Jerkfaces.))


It was a cold evening when the Hunter had been contacted by Romax Pol. The Slaver had come upon him, as many of his better-paying clients had, through the handing of a personal beacon. It was a simple enough way to ensure a higher, more elite caste of clientele could access his services at any given time. He?d been sitting on a bench when he got the transmission, looking up at the sky in a manner that made him almost appear like a deactivated droid. While many, or at least many of the few that could identify him as something other than a machine, would think it a faraway and rather idiomatic thing for anyone else to be doing, Malex was performing a weather data compilation and the suit was processing it into a ninety-nine percent accurate weather forecast for the next four months. Why, might one ask, would he find a weather readout necessary? Simple answer, really. Any job, at any time, could depend heavily on weather. He wondered sometimes how other Hunters worked, and remembered many of the Hunters who he?d actually been contracted to take out of the game. Fools and novices, all of them were. A Torture specialist here, a more conventional Hunter there, the list went on and on. He?d covered too many bases to be thought of as anything less than one of the legends, and he was even a little proud that despite his legendary status, his name remained unknown in almost every major circle. A small display opened up inside one of the helmet?s internal monitors, sliding down over the usual optical visor built-in with a holographic readout display. The monitor locked into place, effectively covering the Hunter?s unseen, silvery right eye.

The effective area map of the city and surrounding areas, compiled by walkabouts and data accumulation throughout the Hunter?s stay, had been brought up. It showed the beacon?s location on a three-dimensional display, near the civilian-avoided back alleys of the Slaver?s Market. The message sounded almost impatient in its wording, and it had caught his attention especially with the wording of a large-scale contract. With a slightly mechanical ?Henh,? the Hunter arose from his seated position at the mouth of an alley, and made for the beginning of the long journey across the town. He kept mostly to alleys, moving across main or even lightly populated streets only when absolutely necessary. People rarely did anything but cower or shrink from him as he passed, their reactions ensured by the discomfort and unsettlingly invasive feeling of the air around him. His slightly massive form was a sight for those who caught a glimpse beyond the helmet and billowing red cloak, with segments of armor, a tight, stretchable bodysuit, and several displays providing encoded readouts on the surroundings in ways he?d be able to see. His steps were as silent as an approaching shadow, despite the size and clunky look of them, and the Slaver?s Market soon moved into view.

His exchange with Romax was brief, and a rather juicy deal was to be had, it seemed. Bodyguard work was usually less hazardous, no-matter the client, than the deep assassination work he?d been used to. ?You?ll be residing within the Asylum Club. A suite will be provided.? A note of it was kept and filed away somewhere. New quarters meant new modifications to be made, and a slew of new regiments would have to be ordered and decided upon. Lists were being extracted from thoughts and entered into the suit?s internal database as he followed behind his new employer. They traversed the town, cutting through alleys and side streets that Malex hadn?t even begun to explore. After what seemed like hours, but was approximately thirty-four minutes, they arrived. The Hunter followed Romax inside, and came to a halt just past the door. A hand was held up before him, before Romax began to walk away. ?Wait here. Someone will show you to your suite.? And wait, he did.

The Hunter was shown to his quarters by a rather waifish little slave. She couldn?t have been a day over twenty, and her raven hair swayed with every step she took. He easily dwarfed her, and felt almost foolish following her rigidly graceful steps throughout the halls and stairwells. When they?d reached the large door leading to his new ?home?, she piped up in a rather careful tone. ?Master Pol has decided upon this room. It is his hope that it will be to your liking. I am to show you through the interior, if you will permit it?? She looked up with the slightest bit of uncertainty towards him, and she had to admit that despite the usual denizens of Rhy?din and their exotic and intimidating appearances, there was something altogether frightening about this man she couldn?t spot even a speck of skin on. He was covered from head to toe, six and a half feet tall, and didn?t even look to be breathing! She hadn?t even heard him speak, but she was sure it would be something unnatural. She didn?t get to see whether or not his voice would be heard though, because he merely nodded. With a sigh on the inside -she would never allow herself such a disrespectful act on the outside when under orders!- she showed him how to set the door?s coding system, and then entered before he did.

The inside of the foyer was small, with a low, industrial-style table sitting along one side of it. A weapons rack was against the opposite wall, with adjustable locks to fit weapons of various designs. The girl showed him both, much as an enthusiastic realtor would, and then led him through to the general living room. It was fairly spacious and already outfitted with modern, if not garishly futuristic, furniture. The girl, bless her heart, seemed to think that he needed to be shown every square inch of the place. She seemed to be growing more and more comfortable with her task, the further into the apartment they went. By the time they reached a room that he found would be suitable for his armor, he placed a hand upon her shoulder. It wasn?t warm or cold, and yet it pulsed with a power all-too-real to be anything but alive. His voice crackled through the helmet, bringing the girl to stop everything short of thinking. ?You may go.?

She began to step back and once he could no longer hear her, the locks snapped open, and hissed loose from his helmet. He had kneeled in the center of the room, the small set of table and desk in the room set up together in a cascading fashion. As he pulled the helmet from his head, silvery-white hair leading into black near the tips fell down around him, loose and straight; heavy. It held a sheen that was ethereal, too beautiful, and yet conveyed the discomfort the air around him held. It was then that he heard a breath released, and within the space of a blink he?d turned about, hair whipping out all around his sides, while a hand struck out and the girl who?d been too curious to leave was pressed against the wall. A pair of deathly silver eyes settled upon her face, and he sighed. ?Lord Ker, my apologies! Please! It wi-!?

?Please, do not speak; or think. Either action will make this an unbearably painful exercise.?

Heedless of his warnings, her screams echoed through the hall for hours.

"Yes, Master." her comm. crackled as she turned to follow him from their apartments, always three steps behind him. Crowds parted less and less around them as they made their way through the city proper, until there was nothing but masses similarly garbed, or more extravagantly garbed, that paid them little to no mind in passing. It was here that the mark floundered about in assumed safety. Even Etsuyo?s shoulders sagged, just a touch. She felt safer here, safer than any other part of town.

One Jean Steibann had gotten on the wrong side of a bill collector but when the man had come knocking, he found nothing but the smoking barrel of a gun and a clear view of Jean?s apartment ceiling. Now a modest bounty was settled comfortably upon his head and though well taken care of in his guardian and discipled position, the Hunter couldn't help but knock out bounties passing through the city. This day, it seemed, was just a happy coincidence working against Steibann, and in favor of the Hunter's Pet.

Etsuyo did not know who the mark was. She relied upon the next orders from Malex. Her hand shifted to the weapon on her hip as she waited.

When the pair had reached the bar with rooms for rent upstairs that Malex had skulked about for days on end learning when Steibann would enter, what he would order, how drunk he'd let himself get, and which of the four prostitutes in the barkeep's employ he would choose for the night before waltzing on upstairs. It was only due to the overconfidence and absurd comfort that the man felt in his "safe haven" that allowed Malex to bring things down to such a methodical level as this. The limit had been removed, however, and this had been turned into a learning exercise.

"Transferring relevant data on the mark." The comm. between their helmets was a simpler thing, allowing them to remain silent to the outside world entirely while remaining in contact, on an encrypted channel. "For this exercise you will be utilizing a skill I have little use for; the art of seduction. Your prior instruction and what you have been taught by Dru will be of greater assistance to you than the majority of your combat trainings. I've arranged with the barkeep, and the prostitute of the mark's choice will not be present this night. You will use beauty and personality to draw him into a false sense of dominance and security. You will allow him to take you upstairs, and once inside the room you will incapacitate him and signal me to move up. Understood?"

"Receiving data, Master." Her eyes moved quickly to read the information and view the photograph of the mark. She listened to the instructions carefully. Only the briefest of nods was given to indicate that she understood her task. She stepped away from Malex' side and removed her cloak. It was hung by the door and she made her way towards the bar. There, she sat and watched the door, waiting. She kept herself hidden, for a good reason. "Understood."

Only her eyes flickered towards Malex when Jean pushed his way into the bar. He looked, to her, sloppy and dangerous. And it was only when he came close enough and turned his eyes towards her that she slipped her helmet off and loosened up the armor just enough to expose the bare flesh across her collarbones. Her long hair was brought down, tossed from one shoulder to the other, as if she was freeing it from not only the confines of the helmet, but from anything else that would cause it to catch and tangle. An alluring gaze fell upon Jean, a small smile, before she turned her gaze towards the bartender.

Malex had moved, cloak on and deep, towards the corner he most often occupied within the establishment. It was in that seat and within the folds of his cloak that he seemed to simply flush with the walls and blend into the background. The Hunter observed.


Jean Steibann's day had been something out of a storybook. This place opened up all kinds of doors after people knew you were a killer, and they were all the right ones. No lawman would touch him, and there were enough bigger bounties to keep mercs and proper hunters off his back. As such, he brought in a tidy little sum every few nights and that let him keep coming back to this mid-level bar and get a nightly run at that sweet piece of ass more commonly known as Jaycy.

He looked over the broad in the body suit, gave her a lecherous smile and a lingering stare at those fine examples of what breasts should be, before settling onto his stool and rat-a-tat-tatting for his usual set up. Third of a bottle of Blue later and he's ready to start talking. "'Ey Jim, where's Jaycy at?"

"She busy, Jean. Her momma got sick're some sh*t like that." The barkeep kept on wiping those glasses clean, and handing them to the rusted-out bucket of bolts droid that set them where they were meant to go.

"You're f*ckin' with me!" Jean seemed a little put-out, didn't he? His attention began to drift then, desperate not to wind up alone tonight. He had too good a think going for him not to score. The sweet set and the woman that belonged to them pulled his attention back. He smiled in a way that was almost too charming for the kind of man he was. "Get you a drink, darlin'?"

"Girl, yer right outta yer head if'n you thin' I'm gon' do anythin' less." He smiled interminably, as the shadows watched. "Now, how 'bout you drop tha' little zipper on down another inch'r two, fer Jean?" A hand set haphazardly on her thigh, intoxication evident in his eyes.

"You mean, like this?" With a tilt of her head, long silken waves tumbled over her shoulder. She smiled and the zipper was brought down, just two inches, displaying creamy white, satiny smooth skin. Her giggle seemed genuine, and she smiled seduction at the drunk when his hand found her thigh.

It was now the time for Malex to see if Etsuyo could discern between drunk enough to remain dangerous and drunk enough to leave in a heap with a light shove.

"Oh baby, you soft in all the right ways.." His hand moved along the outside of her thigh, without any real kind of power behind it as her shove had unbalanced him and proven, to take a firm handful of her sweet little ass while the other moved to grope at a breast, and he whispered thickly into her ear. "Why ain't we go upstairs, an' ye kin unzipper us both..?"

"How did you know, sugar? That was exactly what I was thinking. So smart." She brought up a hand to pat his cheek, a bit roughly. She swallowed a soft grunt when his hand squeezed down on her, and gave a single, forlorn glance to the shadows to attempt to convey her displeasure.

Several notes were made on her performance, though the shadows deigned to move so much as an inch.

As Jean pulled back grinning his smug, toothy grin, the glaze over his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Pulling out of his grip she stood, and smiled for the bartender. Then she put on another sensual smile for Jean. "Show me loverboy, just what you want to do.. All unzippered." Etsuyo strode towards the stairs and her hips swayed, accentuated by the hands she kept on them. When she reached the bottom step, she placed her foot upon it and turned with a come-hither stare, almond eyes lowered to slits with faux anticipation. "Oh, loverboy..." She winked and brought her hand up to that zipper. It was lowered two more inches, nearly indecently exposing more of that heaving flesh beneath it.

"Christ, Jaycy might jus' have t'step off 'er pedest'l.." Steibann nearly fell off his stool, running up behind the girl to fill his hands with those snow white cans while he urged her upstairs, she giggling and yet barely able to contain her displeasure at his rough, ungainly touch. Drunk as a skunk, Jean couldn?t care less if she liked it or not.

It was only now that Etsuyo realized that in her hurry to do the job, she'd forgotten her gloves and helm. She kicked herself inwardly, knowing she had no way of contacting Malex from this point on without making a scene. She knew a reprimand was in order.

"Now let's get in m'room, sweet thin'... 'm gon' do you harder'n ye've e'er been done a'fore.." He could barely stand up straight, and when the key latched through the door, it was almost like the stopper'd been pulled out from under him. Etsuyo cast a glance back down the stairwell and the darkened corner before disappearing within.