Targetless

[Zephyr]

Targetless


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A grimace sat underneath the mask. Agony terriorized the creature's mind as he stood a top the bridge between the floating buildings. Cloud City was marked with beauty unimaginable. The architectural design could only be affilated with gracefulness and artistry. Yet, in all the unmeasurable feats of work around the being, he stood motionless without care and a firmness that made the armored figure into more of a statue than a living organism.

Gold and brown mixed between the platings along the being, while the cords for purified oxygen screeched to life. Distortion came to the statued figure as the arm lifted. A quietness could be found in the movements. Excercised skill, and acute hearing wouldn't decipher the hush that accompanied the hunter's hands turning into a grip onto the railing.

Eyes behind the visor peered off into the distance, and then down into the endless clouds below. The heights were those so high no vessel without a skilled pilot could remain at for long. Quick springs to space, or downward could be heard around as the being watched. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on this day. No one seemed to be involved in violence, beside the basic thefts and absurd attempts at bars and cantinas. The news was minimial, with deaths coming of more natural causes than sadistic. Truthfully, the stioc figure seemed more stagnant out of boredem than purpose.

Another weezing signaled a harsh sigh from the purifiers.

The old warrior armor struck fear in visitors. Folks passed the bridge with caution, while some didn't even dare dash pass. Fright sowed the hard, brown jacket together in a battered hue that warned of any close-range combat. The gold of the helmet brought eyes to a crown of warning. A vengeful 100% tint visor stared out, embedded in the helm, made to scare any fool who dare gaze in it's direction.

Quiet as kept, the armored beast gave only the occasional glance at a datapad at the waist before continuing a stare into the distance of fluffy cotton balls mistaken for clouds. Time had painted the fluff-balls into a pinkish hue that the peering hunter could not enjoy in the slightest.

This thing was waiting for somebody.

[Raurn Tarplas]

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The stare was harsh.

The air even harsher.

Gungans are born to the water, not the air. The slimy, big-eyed creatures were anything but flying birds. Flights were even a subject to adjust to in the late days of the Old Republic, and space travel new to the reformed race, but Bespin was something different entirely.

All the dynamic planets of the galaxy bore unique traits, but the old Gungan's visit was anything beside refreshing. Many times before he had strolled the high-leveled halls of Cloud City and mingled with the fake and phony folk, it wasn't fun.

An impatience had come with years. No longer did he meddle long, or speak extra. Concise and certian, the old Gungan did anything but mess with time. much had passed in his many years, with experiences that gave his hotty personality the fuel neccessary.

Step after step sent him weaving through couples and crowds with hard, flat feet beating against the cool surface. Complaints could be heard from those he bumped into, but his mind wasn't on the moment.

Bulbous eyes fliciked as he re-focused, glancing about. Adorn with his native garbs, the elderly Gungan sported a black guardsman wear, with a brown smock covering his chest. A shiver rushed over his skin as another draft blew in from the nearby window. Once again the Gungan had something to grumble about. The murmurs caught little attention, though, for everyone was drawn to some silly poster pasted by a fashionable bar.

Day time was drawing to an end, and with one glance out the open window the Gungan was certian to hasten his pace. A few quick trots through the crowds and he was to the bridge, staring at his creation stilless as ever. In many ways, he was the co-creator, but he wanted to take the credit. He was raspy, groggy, and loud as he shouted from his side of the bridge.

"Wake up, you fluff-bucket!"

[Za'in]

Cloud City, now that is a place to remember.

All the fun I had the night before was enough to style a smile, but there was business to mind. Restless at the bed side, I felt the cool of the carpet under my bare feet as I sled out for a stand. The groggy sounds behind me was the one I forgot to tell last night, but it was no concern of mine. If the Zeltron wanted to stay longer, she could, but I had to do some things.

One hop, skip and jump was all that was needed for my shower. Deep in the bowels of the refresher, I felt the steaming waters drench my body. I tell ya, there isn't a better place than Bespin hotels. All the fantastic eateries, fashionable architecture and beautiful girls was too much for this small city boy, but I loved it all the same.

Certian to keep myself on schedule, I whipped out the shower and back into my clothes in a matter of minutes. In a quick dash, I sped out the room without opening the gals eye. Hopefully when I got back she wouldn't be gone with my stuff, not that there was much to steal, but I did hope she was at least gone. All night she had played stalker as I tried to mingle at the private party I had surprisingly been invited to.

Truth be told, I dont normally meddle in such high, umm...classy affairs, but this rare occassion was worth the time spent. Another remarkable night went down the drain though, because an early morning wake. Although the water had woke me, I still felt the linger of slumber in my eyes. They drooped heavily as I slumped through the corridor and into the streets.

Cloud City is a great place, but weird also. Streets really aren't streets, the city is far too high in the sky to have concrete, or any sort of real walkways, but that is what everyone calls the hallways. Also, another thing, people are always out and about. No one seems to sleep, except me, and that girl, its a bit awkward. I could never live in such a place for long, too lively for my short stamina.

Exhausted as ever, I finally reached the lift. A single click was all that was needed before stepping in the shifting chambers. I was only moments away from meeting the associate on this business deal. Hopefully the destination would take a little more than a blink, because I needed a minute nap so that I could sound more human than Wookiee when I finally spoke.

[Zephyr]

The lift sounded off to the right, and the Gungan's agonizing voice bellowed from the left. Stuck to the middle of the bridge, the living creature felt the barrage of senses bulk in his mind as a disturbed grimace marked the beings face behind the menacing mask.

In a quick glare, the head shifted to the left to find the Gungan standing in his formal wear. The contrast between his comment and attire were apparant, and nearly laughable, but no giggles could be heard coming from the stioc figure.

Almost robotic in motion, the rigid body pulled from a lean on the rail and stood straight. Firm, once more, in a stance, a resemblence was captured to that of a militant in the ready stance.

The chest of the hunter poked out with a prowess that demanded attention and wary eyes. A bandolier along mortal's frame was laced tight to a strong chest, but only grew tighter as the bosom lifted. Vented lips fronted the mouth on the helm, yet no sound exited as the body adjusted.

Gloved fingers binded into balls of fist, as the fury that wasn't erasble in the mask remained pointing at the Gungan. The visor did not reveal the eyes in the slightest, but if they had the stare would be dumbfounding. A rush of anger boiled under the mysterious garbs, only to be relieved with a roll of the shoulders. Suddenly, the being was calm, and the robotic symptons of the body halted. In replacement to the mechanical posture came a light hunch as the hands lifted to the helmet.

One soft sound clicked at the neck; gas splashing out as air swarmed in. A heavy breath escaped the exposed person of the mask before an affirmative voice alerted the two visitors.

"Now, lets get to business..."

Zephyr had been unmasked. The entrances were closed off, and windows shut. No one could see the man behind the disguise besides the two.

[Antä]

The air brought life, and with it a smile. Underneath the hard shell of a helm stood I, the boy from far off lands with a pleasant smile. At the least, I was attractive, ya know? Unlike the outfit, I could actually draw people to me willingly.

From all the past experience, I was certian I wasn't some hideous freak, or anything worth being depressed about in terms of looks. Yet, the galaxy kept spinning and new ideas of "handsomeness" came and gone. Basically, I didn't care either way it spun, I was still that little boy from my homeworld that stood out with the awkward dialect.

Helmet under my arm, I glanced over at the two once more. For a second I found no shock in their faces. Why, one might ask? Why wouldn't they be surprised to see Zephyr unmasked? Well, because they invented Zephyr. Who else beside me would fit the role better?

Neither carried the ability to fulfil Zephyr's mystique and skill physically, so I stepped in to accomplish a guise that would absorb more attention than a gundark on the Coruscan't streets. So far, all had gone as planned until today. Recent rumors had spread of Zephyr's abscence of casualities, and clean missions. Although a formidable hunter, this Zephyr guy was supposedly soft...I didn't like those kinda comments, yaknow?

All the chatter could get a guy uncomfortable, especially with a weggy the suit kept giving me. Nothing is worst than getting shot at by a barrage of blasters with some cloth stuck in ya rear...

But, I guess, that is beside the point. The message was real clear from the surroundings, but the problem was I would not kill. Long, long ago, in a galaxy-I mean, on a world far away I had seen death. Demise wasn't a pretty thing. No one wanted to marry it, and I certianly wasn't attracted to such a traumatizing life to even put my eyes on it again. So, I had decided before I stepped into the suit that guns would be used for submission instead of commission. Yet, a conadrum in the profession's "recommendations" was arising, and my comrades needed to talk it out.

Basically, this was a staff meeting between officals. All department had been lined up. The manager, and public relation specialist all had come to communicate on this problem with their employee, which would be me, and we were not going to leave until everything had been mellowed out. Not that I wasn't mellow. I'm always mellow.

"Whatta we gunna doo bout this o' shoot 'em, kill 'em, bit, aye?"

[Zephyr]

1 Year Later and Months Later

More than a year had passed.

The galaxy changed, and so did Zephyr. The business had been remodeled. Zephyr was made better. Antä had been dropped and picked up more times than a Gungan slop, bu business was still as usual. Za'in still was at the helm, and Raurn was handling the contracts. Everything was at tip top shape.

A few big names had even don the uniform. It had became a house-hold name for handling illicit behavior, and the odd couple had become the benefactors. Many wondered how they manage to stay together, but the beautiful armor manage to keep their ties strong and evident. Despite all the directions they flew in, they always came back to one objective: Zephyr.

On this day, the uniform had been hung up in the back of Za'in's hotel. Usually the armor was held in a safe house on Spira, but times had changed. An Empress was at the head of the Empire, and the Rebellion was still revolting, but the underworld was still revolving. A lot of people had gotten suspicious of this private merc/bounty operation Za'in was handling. Before he was a simple no name, but somehow he had gotten connected to a Gungan and gone big on the bounty circuit.

This was a potent period, and Za'in had to handle the moments onward carefully.

He couldn't slip. One misstep and the whole operation could fall. The purpose of maintaining the mystique was the interest of business. If everyone knew they were going through a middle man here, and not the actual hunter, then the profit wouldn't be as good. Truly, Za'in and Raurn were getting paid for the up keep on the armor and equiptment, not the actual missions. So, in turn, as the holders of the main goods they were managing to take in far more than they deserved....

...And it was working so far.

It only made sense that when a few curious eyes were shot their way Zephyr disappeared from the circuit for a second or two. Too much pressure could burst some pipes, and although the contracts of the hired hands explicitly required their mouth remain close on the operation there was no telling what someone might do for credits nowadays.

So, Zephyr went targless for a while.

Operation Zephyr was going to have an in-house meeting...very soon.