You're My Mission

[Astin Vero]

Music

Unspecified planet​

Fringes of Republic space​

​

All he had was a face and a locale. There was no need for any sort of dossier, or any real personal information. This was just another target, though one of arguably more importance, given that they were a known Jedi. But he had killed Force sensitives before, so this wasn't much of a different mark. Still, the mission had been scripted as one of high importance, and so from the very beginning he treated it with more of a purposeful edge than the others. Methodically he armed himself, holstering a slugthrower pistol at his waist, one of the semi-automatic variety complete with a magazine holstered nearly between his shoulder blades, and two combat knives sheathed at the base of his spine. The only extraneous weaponry he carried was a rifle loaded with three bullets, meant to be left behind. It was of no specific make, with no rifling within the barrel or other clues to lead to its origins.

The final thing he did before departure was don the mask covering the lower half of his face, pulling on a pair of tinted goggles that would suffice to assist him in lining up the rifle's sights. Not long after he was deposited on a nearby rooftop, a light breeze blowing his hair back as he stepped closer to the edge, observing the civilians milling about below. This was his starting point, and somewhere down there was his target. None of them knew what stood meters above them, and the danger his singular presence held. But they would soon. He positioned himself so he was laying prone, priming the rifle's scope and peering through it, allowing the inherent magnification to assist him in the search for his newest mark. After a few minutes, a shock of blonde caught in his sights, and he instantaneously honed in.

He shifted slightly where he lay, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, a quiet whine sounding as he flicked the weapon to fire, the small indicator in the upper right of the scope switching from green to red, marking it as live. Again his focus turned to the crosshairs, and he centered them at the hollow of the woman's throat, waiting for the crosshairs to flash green before he pulled the trigger twice in succession, sending two bullets downrange. Quickly he reconfigured and fired a third time, this one meant for the abdomen, hoping to wound and slow down rather than reap near instant death. And just like that he seemed to disregard the previously useful firearm in its entirety, setting it to the side and pushing himself into a crouch, waiting for a moment as the pedestrians below continued to scatter after the shots had rang out in a once peaceful afternoon.

Once again he was at the edge of the rooftop, and this time he stepped off the edge, landing none too gently on top of a speeder, durasteel caving visibly beneath his weight, glass shattering. Almost absently he stepped to duracrete, his stride purposeful as he pushed his way through the remnants of the crowd towards where he had last seen his target, not quite drawing any of his other weaponry just yet. It was prudent he confirm either a kill or some kind of hit, and only then would the real fight begin, if indeed there was one at all. Whatever the outcome, he was ready, though some part of him was hoping for a fight to finish out the day. At heart, he was still a soldier. Just maybe not for the right side.

[member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

Stephanie didn’t know where she was. She’d taken the first transport shuttle to the nearest planet in the Republic. Was it Umbara? Taboon? She didn’t know, and she was alone. With the cracked and dirty shield under her am, blaster in her thigh holster, the solider walked along the carriageway from the spaceport, mingling through the crowd and looking for something – anything – to say where she was.

Turning around, her steps faltering, she looked out into the distance. Eyes narrowed. Was she being watched? She had a horrid feeling that was never wrong. She carried on walking, glancing to her left and right as she carried on.

A few more steps and something told her to act, and it was a feeling she didn’t question. There was a horrid sound that touched her ear, and without thinking she winced and brought up the shield as fast as possible which was a fraction of a second quick enough to deflect two gunshots.

BAM! BAM!

It was enough to send the passers-by screaming and running.

Another shot BAM! kicked up the ground where she had stood, for Stephanie quickly dived to the side and the shield clanked down as she grabbed it and looked ahead. The assailant made himself known, a masked man looked desperate for a fight and armed, with a striking cybernetic arm. He was heavy enough to smash the speeder he landed on from the roof-block above, but yet he didn’t LOOK heavy at all.

He looked…familiar. Standing up as the street started to become empty, Stephanie held her shield out, looped through her left arm, and she held out her right.

”Stand down at once!”

Rooting herself to the ground, she braced herself, because he wasn’t stopping, and made her feet light, ready to move.

”Stand down!”

[member="Astin Vero"]

 

[Astin Vero]

The only thing Astin truly registered in that moment was that she wasn't dead, which meant he wasn't done yet. It was plain that firearms would have no real effect with the shield she carried, and so he opted for getting inside her reach entirely. Wordlessly he drew one of two combat knives, weapon flicking between his fingers fluidly as if it naturally belonged there. With his left hand he reached up to remove the goggles so as not to impede his vision for the clash ahead, letting them fall to the ground, their purpose having disappeared in the last few seconds. Now there was just this fight, here, all notions of what had previously been a sniping mission fading away so as to be replaced by one far more up close and personal.

As she called for him to stand down his pace only seemed to quicken, and the blade nestled itself in his grasp in a final reverse grip. In those few seconds before the first strike he analyzed everything about her stance and the weaponry visible on her person. Naught but some kind of firearm and the shield, the latter of which she seemed to favor above all else, which meant he wouldn't have to worry overmuch about a potential close-range shot to the head. When it came to countering the shield his objective was simple: get inside her reach in order to ultimately render it useless. She might have been a Jedi, but in demanding that he surrender rather than instigating the offensive she had already made her first mistake.

And then he was upon her, and there was no more thought devoted to anything other than the fight. Instantly he attacked in a flurry of flashing metal, cybernetic limb poised in order to switch hands with the blade if it proved necessary or otherwise deflect a counter or defense. There was no choice for her now but to act, because he wasn't of a mind to stop until she lay dead.

[member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

The assailant didn’t stop – even when he dropped his goggles – and Stephanie saw that roguish look she had seen in the Republic facility. But, no time to piece the puzzle together. He was on her, the striking arm of chrome and the knife in his hand.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed forward and raised her arm, letting the shield absorb what hits she could from the flurry of attacks he gave, the metallic sound chiming out and the force of his blows sending shockwaves down her arm.

She pushed outwards and up to the left, using the shield across her left arm as a lance to strike him against the face to render him out cold.

[member="Astin Vero"]

 

[Astin Vero]

Every movement from the both of them was rendered from instinct alone, with no thought devoted to processing their movements before they were made, this allowing for a greater range of unpredictability in some instances. And said moment of unpredictability didn't waste any time in manifesting, that same shield emblazoned with the emblem of the Republic lashing out towards his face. With no excess movement he stepped back in order to avoid the worst, though it still caught him on the edge of his jaw, momentarily disorienting him and sending a shock of pain radiating outwards through his head, originating from that single point of contact. Even then his weapon remained firmly in his grasp, a penchant to his training.

But it served to accomplish one thing, and that was knock the mask from his face. He reached up to rub out the pain from his jaw, making no moves for the next few moments as he shifted his feet shoulder-width apart, eyes narrowing as he watched her. Something pricked at the back of his mind that told him there should have been an instant spark of recognition, but there was only a void where that would have been. A vague sense of simple knowing resided within his subconscious, but nothing more. This momentary confusion was evident on his face. He knew her from somewhere, but was ultimately at a loss for why and how. The chances of that stopping him were slim to none, but for now he only had one thought: who was she?

​

[member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

Stephanie crouched, ready to counter and move for another hit as the man recoiled with her attack, and it sent his mask rolling onto the ground.

When he faced her, she saw the full face; the eyes of one lost, the long hair like curtains, the sense of innocence and confusion. He was one she had shared conversation with, even a training session outside in the facility gym track.

”The Republic facility. The weapons project. You were there, remember?” she said over the shield, still held across her chest. ”It’s me, Stephanie Swail!”

[member="Astin Vero"]

 

[Astin Vero]

"I'm not..." The muscles of his jaw ticced after he spoke, and he shook his head firmly, attempting to dislodge any recollections from his mind. "Praev. My name is Praev." An unspoken question was evident in his eyes: How do I know you? Astin wad adamant that he didn't know her beyond that vague recognition, simply because there wasn't a reason for him to. He had learned long ago not to trust his memory, and this was no different. There had been no program other than the one he had been subjected to in the recent months, nothing to do with the Republic other than the missions he had been sent on to kill their operatives or Jedi like her. The only way he knew her was through this assignment. Nothing more. Nothing.

His left hand clenched into a fist, brow furrowing in anger and frustration, and once again he lashed out violently in another storm of attack, not granting her any opportunity for recompense other than those few moments of confusion. "I don't know you." That seemed to be his battlecry, and he was hellbent in proving it in these next few moments, when he finally stood over her wounded or dead form. But familiarity rang throughout the entirety of his mind now, and there was no ignoring it. But he refused. He had no friends. There were no others. It had always been him.

[member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

She rose as he tried to speak, and held her stance, but he soon came back for more.

He was leading the attack, and she could only block with two arms holding the shield, and hit after hit after hit....and it cracked. The pressure Stephanie was using to hold herself up collapsed with the shield as it split in two and she fell forward, into the man called Praev. His fist landed right in her chest, and she folded over it, breath knocked out of her.

She fell onto her knee and held her hand him, wheezing - it was a hit, and one she'd never experienced before. In fact, this was he first real taste of violence and a volatile enemy.

”Please,” she panted, ”Stephanie Swail - we trained in the Republic Echo....Park. Outside, we ran laps around the Echo Fountain. Bred, for the Republic...”

The sheild was in two parts, one each side of the soldier, and she was desperate. She wasn't ready for this. He was going to kill her.

[member="Astin Vero"]

 

[Astin Vero]

Astin had been trained - or rather, retrained - over time to ignore pleas for mercy from those he faced, but this was one that struck a chord with him in ways he hadn't quite experienced before. Because, regardless of whether he readily remember or not, his subconscious still knew her, and refused to let that go. He took a few steps backwards as flashes of memories played through his mind's eye in the span of seconds, leaving him disoriented and uncertain of his place. The Republic. The super soldier program. He remembered, yet refused to at the same time, that paradox making it impossible to discern truth from fiction, and he questioned whether any of it was true at all. He knew her, yet he didn't. But he had to, didn't he?

"Steph, I--" The stone cold wall behind his eyes seemed to break down for a moment, betraying childlike hope and wonder at reconnecting with the closest thing to a friend he could reasonably remember. At the same time, however, all of this felt distinctly wrong and out of place, and he still couldn't decide which feeling was the correct one. And so he went with what he did know: that he wasn't Republic, that they were the enemy because they had caused him to lose his memory and his arm, that the Sith had found him and made him better than he once was. Even that seemingly perfect reality was beginning to fracture, piece by piece, his whole world collapsing about him in the span of this single mission.

His hand tightened around the hilt of his knife, and resolve returned to his form. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, forcing himself to steady and remember why he was here. This woman on one knee before him, seemingly nearly broken down after his two consecutive assaults, was a threat the galaxy would be better off without. "You're my mission." Wasn't she?

[member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

His mission? He wasn't even on the right SIDE of the mission they were selected for.

”No, no I'm not.” Stephanie rose slowly, hand out, and right hand moving to her side, to the blaster. She wasn't totally stupid. ”Our mission hasn't been set. We - you and I - we were attacked by Sith soldiers. The facility is gone. We are what's left!”

She took a step, hearing a cry of exclamation in the distance, but ignored it.

”They've broken you.”

Another step, and a glance to the knife.

”Let me help you. We'll find our place and finish what they started, ok?”

The hand turned from palm out, to palm up, a hand to let him pass the knife over to.

[member="Astin Vero"]

 

[Astin Vero]

"Mission report." Those two words were only dimly registered, with no response being offered. He was still trying to process what was quickly becoming an information overload, and one he didn't know how to begin to sift through. This was beginning to become too much, and, similarly to the Sith he felt some kind of skewed loyalty to, he commonly reacted with brazen anger and frustration, though his was of a more slow buildup. "Mission report." Again those four syllables were uttered, the inherent command they held far more evident the second time. This time he became instantaneously annoyed at the voice of one of his superiors, and tore the earpiece out of its proper place, crushing it in his cybernetic grip and letting the pieces fall. No doubt a decision he would later regret, but in the moment he couldn't have cared less.

Again Astin shook his head, less adamant but still holding that same sentiment of denial and simply not understanding. "I have my mission. There isn't a 'we'." There had never been, as far as he was concerned, yet another part of him thought quite the opposite. But that part was wrong. It had to be. He looked to the knife shortly after she did, considering the weapon and the deadly potential it held in the hands of one who had been trained such as him. The sight of her hand drifting towards her pistol seemed to trigger something within him, and assuming he was unimpeded his form would shift into a kick meant to take her legs out from under her. "I'm not broken!" Following that exclamation was a punch aimed for her head with his left hand, more than capable of shattering duracrete.

Inherently he knew that a one-man gunship was no doubt on its way, carrying the one that had spoken to him through the comms and two of those he had come to know as wardens in order to return him to the facility due to apparent mission failure. But that wouldn't be for a few minutes, and he was still hellbent on completing what he had come here to do, and erasing all inklings of self-doubt from his mind. Because he already knew where he belonged, and had found his place long ago. And if one thing was certain, it was that it wasn't with any kind of Galactic Republic.

[member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

Stephanie furrowed her brow slightly at his muttering - mission report? They HAD no mission. At least she didn't.

Then, he swung out with a fierce amount of power, and with that she acted with her training; she may be alone, and uncertain of things, but she knew when her life was in danger and how to fight back.

Her open palm swung up to clasp his clenched fist, and as it struck, it stung. Gritting her teeth, she clawed down at the fist to pull it down, and with that she pulled back her elbow and jabbed it violently towards his face - more precisely, his nose.

[member="Astin Vero"]

 

[Astin Vero]

When she managed to catch the punch thrown with his cybernetic limb he was momentarily caught off guard, though he still instinctively pulled back the best he could with his fist in her grasp as the elbow shot out towards his face. Even then he wasn't fast enough, the crack of broken bone sounding upon the impact of her elbow with his nose. To his credit he didn't entirely vocalize the pain, a gritting of his teeth biting back a cry. In that instant Astin forcibly wrenched his left hand from her own, pushing himself to his feet and raising his right hand to his nose, crimson coating his fingers once they were pulled away. Reaching up with both hands he straightened the break in a fluid motion, the muscles of his jaw visibly taught as he did so.

His blade had been dropped when her strike connected successfully, but that was the least of his concerns in the moment. Winning was. Momentarily he scanned the surrounding terrain for any feasible advantage, stepping over to where the broken shield lay and picking up one half with his false limb, turning near-instantaneously and throwing it towards her at a speed inhuman for the average sentient. Then again, neither of them exactly fit that bill anymore.

[member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

Crouching, like a panther ready to spring on the prey, Stephanie was engaging in full combat mode; this man was broken and needed to be subdued for any chance of them leaving in one piece. Watching and studying the man for his next move, he moved for the broken shield half, and launched it.

Turning her back, arms up to protect her head – for a strike would take it off – the shield cracked her shoulder, impacting up her arm and clattering to the floor. It was a powerful throw, and it cut into her skin and knocked her forward to the ground with a gasp, hands skidding along the grit of the floor.

He was too strong – he was fuelled by a rage she hadn’t seen before, and he wasn’t stopping.

As he came closer for the kill, she swung over and scrabbled up, spinning sideways with a powerful roundhouse kick for the gut. It wasn’t the fastest of moves, her body was wracked with pain, but she had to do something.

[member="Astin Vero"]

 

[Astin Vero]

The kick drove the breath from him and drove him backwards, his impact denting the metal and cracking the glass. Shaking off the daze of the hit Astin straightened, again moving towards her. This time he took off at a light jog, ducking into a roll across his shoulder so he could fluidly grab his discarded blade and keep up that same pace once he found his feet again. In the next instant he spun into another sequence of slashes and stabs with the knife, his enhanced speed matching hers. Just as before his left hand remained in a position to switch grips with the weapon in order to continue his assault. Certainly he still had firearms readily available, but this was far more a personal fight now, after everything.

Within the next few moments a gunship touched down mere meters behind him, and two well-armed men exited before the third, their position clearly something akin to bodyguards, while the one behind bore more of an official countenance. "Praev." This utterance of his designated moniker wasn't quite enough to get him to stop, and so in response one of those two supposed guards drew a pistol, the sound of a safety disengaging something he intrinsically recognized, and without looking he knew the weapon was aimed directly at the back of his head, steadily following every move he made. Again his code name was spoken, this time with more force, "Praev."

This time he halted instantly, sheathing his blade as the two guards stepped forward, each placing a hand on his shoulders in order to guide him to where the vessel was waiting. At their unwarranted touch he instinctively recoiled, knocking one down with a sweep kick and turning into a punch intended for the jaw of the other before that same pistol was pressed against the base of his head. For the final time he relented, taking his mask that was shoved into his grasp and placing it back across the lower half of his face, settling for staring down this woman he somehow knew.

[member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Stephanie Swail]

He came at her, with a relentless glare in his eye, and the blade was back in his hand, and all Stephanie could do was keep her arms up to counter the strikes, and move back and sideways to avoid the blade.

The knife caught her arms twice, cutting through the blue jumpsuit and drawing blood. All she could do was work past the pain, and the swirling frustration of having a Force ability, but somehow feeling scared in using it.

When the gunship came, she used the arrival to leap backwards and crouch down, holding her arm to stem the seeping blood now coming through her fingers. She looked up, face set in stone at the loud gunship and the agents seemingly on the side of the assassin.

But they weren’t focused on her, and didn’t even pay her any attention.

She just watched him, as he took his mask from the floor and returned the look. Stephanie shook her head, before lowering it, a little afraid of what he may do in the following seconds.

[member="Astin Vero"]

 

[Astin Vero]

"Mission report." Astin ignored the command originating from the man standing in front of him for a few moments too long, and his head was jerked down by his hair so he was looking this supposed superior in the eyes. "Mission report, Praev. Now." His jaw remained stubbornly clenched for a few moments before he deigned to speak, voice taking on a tone that was best described as far more automatic and nearly akin to a droid more than a sentient being, "I fired three shots at the target with the rifle from the drop point, moving down from the rooftop after it proved unsuccessful and engaging at a close range with a single knife and later barehanded combat. The shield she carried broke, and I was able to capitalize on a few hits even after she broke my nose. Soon afterwards, you arrived."

"And why weren't you able to complete a successful kill?" At this inquiry his brow furrowed, as in truth even he didn't really know the answer. "She said I know her." That was the only response given, as if it somehow answered the question. "Do you?" "I don't know. She said something about a Republic facility, how we trained together, and I--" "The only thing you have to thank the Republic for is losing your arm and your memories. Nothing more and nothing less. Do you understand?" He conceded, lowering his head slightly, but the look in his eyes communicated the exact opposite. But now wasn't the time for arguing that point, when there was still so much about this that was impossible for him to even begin to grasp.

It was then they began to lead him to the ship. "What of the target?" "Another day." Silence again, and he cut a quick glance back towards the woman, that same childlike confusion having taken root again behind his eyes. Because now he was beginning to become just as unsure of his identity as he was hers.

[member="Stephanie Swail"]