Upbeat music washed over the mass of cheerful, dancing bodies as a certain man walked through the casino now. His burning yellow eyes looked to and fro behind a pair of equally yellow circular sunglasses, taking in everyone around him. It was a peculiar sight to him, so many people talking and smiling and enjoying themselves in his presence. Normally, people are screaming, running, or even frozen with fear at the sight of him. As they should be, he thought, slightly grimacing to himself. But nevertheless, the response he receives from the partygoers is the intended one, indifference. For here, he is not Horror, the centuries old bounty hunter with more heads on his record than can be accounted for who owns a discreet yet extremely large bounty hunting corps. Here, he is--should anyone ask--Will Hawker, a completely normal guy here for a drink or two. He dressed the part as well, not armed to the teeth as he usually is, but completely weaponless and dressed not in a suit of armor, but an iridescent black slim fit with a yellow shirt unbuttoned at the top two near the collar. It was tailored to compensate for the Diathim wings on his back and he was as sharply dressed as anyone else.
He kept walking through the casino, even as he spotted his target, [member="Rave Merrill"]. He had come in there only as a scout, keeping tabs on what the witch pirate was doing within the establishment and who she was around. Like any good hunter, he stalked his prey. He had been watching Merrill when she arrived on the planet, and when she entered the casino. In retrospect, he wished he would have taken care of her before the casino. His victims were easier to subdue when drunk, sure, but they were also less susceptible to pain, making them a lot less interesting to torture. Deciding his null hypothesis about it being too risky to try and capture her in the casino was true as he sensed a few strong force users also at the bar, he left without a word.
The back door swung open easily and the fresh air of Antecedent filled his lungs. Putting on a faux demeanor of politeness, Horror went past the strange group of men standing guard and kept walking. They were not there when he first entered the casino. On them, he saw disruptor carbines and stun guns along with a matching uniform. No doubt they were waiting for someone, likely the same person he was. He couldn't have that, he couldn't have that at all.
Neither of them saw it coming. As soon as he had past them, Horror thrust his leg back, hitting the nearest of them in the back of the knee, causing it to fold and turned around, snapping the man's neck with his hands the second he kneeled down. Before he was a sith, before he was a bounty hunter, the man called Horror was a Matukai and the force fueled his body with superhuman speed and strength no sith or jedi could hope to accomplish. This worked hand in hand with his quick intellect and lightning reflexes as he crouched and dug his fore knuckles into the ribs of a pirate who had just turned around in alarm, rupturing his liver and causing massive internal bleeding along with excruciating pain. He had to take them out as quickly and silently as possible so as not to alert the other pirates that may be around. This will prove a mild challenge without any conventional weapons or armor, but when your body is a lethal weapon in it's own right, who's complaining? He rose and uppercut the man, knocking him out and continuing his spinning motion, he performed a reverse roundhouse on some other pirate who has just raised his weapon at him. The hard sole of his dress shoe shattered the man's jaw, putting him out cold as well, though it was the force with which his head slammed into the ground that killed him. The Force alerted him to danger from behind and he quickly spun around, his left arm pushing the disruptor carbine to the side while his right hand thrust an open palm into his nose, driving the bone right into his brain. The disruptor had gone off by then, converting some misfortunate pirate into a smoking heap of ash almost instantly.
There was one more pirate left, further away, he must have been running in the midst of the slaughter and was reaching for a communicator in what he thought was a safe distance away. He thought wrong. Before he could react, Horror had closed that distance. If that man alerts any of the other pirates about what has happened, there would be too much commotion and his target could get away. Nothing a crushed windpipe can't fix. He promptly jabbed the pirate directly in his adam's apple and watched, amused, as he fell to his knees, choking, wheezing, retching and gagging pitifully and softly. Horror reached forward and grabbed the pirate's forehead, searching through his mind with the force for answers to why they were there, how many of them there are, where they are and who commands them.
"[member=Flora Burn]? Looks like some aspiring amateur got herself way over her head trying to take my bounty. Her funeral."
He lets go of the pirate's head, relaxing the flow of the force through his body as he surveys the sight of his work. Meh. He could have done better. With a clench of his fist, the last pirate grasped frantically at his throat before falling over dead. Spreading his wings, Horror silently flew to the roof of a nearby building and accessed his hidden armory. Within seconds, he was suited up in more appropriate attire, his Practical Suit, and sliding the electro-staff into the hoop on his back, he finished loading his weapons. He watched through a yellow tinted vizor on a skull-shaped helmet and waited for Rave to exit the building, once again stalking his prey.
