War of Corporations: Foray

[Khendon Sevon]

The Reborn Spirit was a beat up, hunk of recycled computer parts and spare durasteel. She reeked of musty, raunchy caf and sweat from her past occupants, which had come to a cold end by Khendon’s hand. The vessel was commandeered several weeks ago by a special operations team for the role it would now play in the ever-expanding war of corporations.

Unlike Khendon’s designs, the Reborn Spirit was not streamlined, nor did it have an angry edge to it, in fact, the sight of the partially crippled shuttle in Khendon’s personal transport, the Quietus, was enough to bring the most stolid to laughter. Khendon shook his head, probably for the tenth time that day, and walked out of the cargo room, his military combat boots silent on the normally resonating durasteel floor.

The imposing, black clad Khendon walked into the cockpit, waving away Mark from the controls and silently speaking into the communications system, “Leader to team, prepare for departure, we’ll be exiting hyperspace in ten, you should all be in guise now and have weapons ready.” Khendon shook his head, yet again, not inspiring words, he had thrown away a speech he had for the occasion, all of the agents being deployed were his friends, and as such he would spare them from more political propaganda.


(OOC: If you wish to partake in our RP, please contact me over AIM/MSN/or E-mail first so that we can work things out, we've been planning this one for a while.

AIM: ietib MSN: Khendon@hotmail.com E-mail: Andrew@bewildrocks.com

Thanks!)

[Mark Fenix]

Mark, now sitting comfortably in the passenger seat, gazed out the main viewport of the tattered old shuttle. The stars in the endless night skyline of deep space sparkled... the heavenly bodies serene in their places in the galaxy. Mark used the scenery to sooth his mind. The mission they were about to pull off wasn't necessarily a very difficult one; however, Mark had been out of action for quite a while, and aside from training himself daily, had not been in any type of actual combat. This was going to be quite the night indeed.

His partner was a man he had never worked with. A newbie to the UIT, but has an extensive background in covert operations, undercover operations, infiltration; everything Mark could ask for in a partner tonight. He had only spoken a few words to him eariler, but had intentions to get to know the guy before setting off on the mission.

Originally, Mark had been in shock when he discovered he and Vapor were not going to be working together. Vapor and he had been friends for years, and had been together since their early days in the Sith Empire. Khendon explained it was a matter of having a person he knew more in each scenario; not that he didn't trust the new recruits, but he felt more comfortable having someone he knew well in each mission, knowing that either was capable of getting himself and his partner out of any situation.

Mark drew his gun from his holster. It was no blaster, simply a shell-firing handgun. Based on very old technology, his hand-made revolver housed a six-bullet cylinder, which he flipped out from the cylinder lock. While extremely outdated, Mark had grown to love this handcrafted weapon more than any lightsaber he had ever built (his latest was strapped to his arm underneath the sleeve of his outfit); and even began to use it in place of a blaster. With his marksmanship, any weapon in his hand was effective enough to keep him alive.

He placed six new bullets in each shaft. Each bullet he had he had also made himself; finding ammunition for a weapon that had not been used in hundreds of years is no easy task. He had several rounds with him, stored in different pockets on his outfit. He clicked the hammer around and the cylinder spun into place. He returned it to its holster, regularly hidden by the overcoat he had becomed accustomed to wear.

The organization they were infiltrating greatly lacked style in their choice of outfit for security guards. However, in a mission that called for absolute secrecy, you had to look like everyone else would. Going undercover, infiltrating an enemy base, risking it all... it was the adventure-filled aspect that made Mark love this business.

[Damien Routhe]

Damien Routhe sat quietly and to himself while he prepared for the upcoming mission. The situation had been a new one, Damien could not remember the last time he had felt nervousness. His life had been a virtual one, his training had essentially taken place inside his own head. When not training for physical condition, he had been through several training missions in Virtual Reality. Throughout the several months with Foxhound, he had been put to the test in all sorts of scenarios in which he had to execute difficult tactics of stealth and infiltration. However, in the case that anything had gone wrong (and in some times it has) the option to abort had always been available. Today was not so.

He zipped up his sneaking suit, a state-of-the-art monitoring system that could adapt to its surroundings to provide its wearer with the most comfort possible and keep the body in the best condition possible. The internal lining could keep the wearer cool while the temperature was hot, and vice versa. It made sure that heartbeat, breathing time, and even mental patterns were all in regulation levels, and could stimulate the body with vitamins and nutrients if the need arose. Thoughts of his past drifted into his mind.

Damien remembered his early days of Foxhound. A covert operations team specializing in anti-terrorism, the group had recently disbanded. However, Damien was in it long enough to get a good level of training. Besides that fact, he was working with Mark Fenix, top agent in the UIT. Was there a chance of him coming out in one piece?

"I'm sure of it," Damien thought to himself. He got a slight boost of confidence from his mental "pep talk," and strapped his silenced USP pistols to his waist, two on the right and one on the left. He slipped on his disguise over his suit, and calmly sat down to think about his future with the UIT.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Towards the back of the Reborn Spirit, Lok s'Ilancy sat, leaning her head against the bulkhead, eyes half shut as she went over the mission plan. A hand reached up to rub absently over the connection ports at the back of her neck; Kyry had upgraded the hardware lacing s'Il's nervous system so that her download time would be twice that of what it previously was.
Pulling at the neck of the uniform she was wearing, she frowned. *And this is why I don't wear these things, damn starchy necklines* she thought idly.
Leaning forward, she cast her metallic gaze toward the front of the ship. She was ready.

[Vapor Kazuna]

Vapor lounged idly across several of the passenger seats staring up at the ceiling of the dingy cargo freighter. Examining several carbon scorches, he wished that he had brought along some of his s'rana cigarettes on the mission, but it wouldn't have been professional. Ignoring the craving for that spicy smoke, Vapor glanced around the cabin, assessing the other members of the team.

Even though he was changed on the outside, Mark seemed to be not much different than when Vapor had last seen him. He sighed and regretted the fact that they hadn't gotten a chance to really talk before this mission came up. Mark still projected the image of a fairly imature exterior overlaying a dependable and serious personality.

Vapor almost laughed at the jumpy and anxious feelings that Damien was broadcasting to the world. Vapor had learned to read faces over the years and could tell that the VR trainee was nervous about the misson. Vapor shrugged and passed his glance over to s'Ilancy.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of the silent young woman with the silvery gaze. The seemed to be calm and composed, almost the antithesis of Damien. Well, he was on her team for this mission, and perhaps he would learn a little bit what she was all about.

Vapor stretched and gave a small yawn as Khendon made his announcement over the ship's intercom. A small smile passed over his features at the faint disappointment he could hear in Khendon's voice about not being able to give a rousing speech. Yawning again, he adjusted his dark jacket and waited for them to reach their destination.

[Khendon Sevon]

The lights aboard the Reborn Spirit slowly faded as the devil poked his head into reality and the Quietus fell from hyperspace; the connection which ran energy from the mothership’s generator to the Reborn’s own heavily modified powerhouse being severed as the bay doors yawned open with a slight metallic squeal of delight beneath the crippled creature.

“Hold on, this is going to be a bumpy ride,” said Khendon over the intercom as he ignited the main engines and tapped the throttle up a notch, using maneuvering jet power to push the free floating hunk of junk from his sleek, deadly personal transport which glistened like a newborn star in the fading light of the Emeriah sector.

“Khendon to ship, activate stealth systems,” Khendon caressed the viewport for a moment in the spot his ship was as it disappeared from all sensors, including visual, being replaced by a barren wasteland of stars; he might not see the picture perfect image of power and beauty again.

“Powering up main thrusters, activating emission cutoffs and countermeasures, preparing to set course for planet Zhou, switching to passive sensors only. Let’s hope they don’t see us,” Khendon looked at mark, holding out his hand in a fist, “Good to be working with you again, old friend.”

[Mark Fenix]

Mark extended his arm and tapped his knuckles against Khendon's. He grinned, retracted his arm, and sat up to proceed to the back of the ship where his compatriots awaited. While walking through the doorway, he turned around to face his long-time friend.
"This will be just like the good ol' days, won't it? It will be great to be working together. Even if we won't see each other till the mission's over."

Khendon grinned back. He casually saluted Mark from his seat, and said, "This will be just like the old days. You do a great job out there. Just promise you'll bring my team back in one piece?"

"You can count on it. Just take care of yourself, too."

Back in the passenger room, Mark met up with his three teammates for the first time in the mission. Nearest to him, Vapor was lounging across several seats, taking a brief rest. It had been over a year since the two had been together. After the exit from the Sith and the brief time spent in Khendon's first, and partly unsuccesful, organization, known simply as The Guild, the formerly-inseperable trio had gone their seperate ways.

They were together again, however, and under most unprecedented circumstances. He knew there was much catching up to be done, but it would have to wait.

"Well this is it," Mark broke the awkward silence, addressing everyone in the passenger cabin. Vapor sat up, Damien lifted his head to look at him. S'Ilancy shifted her penetrating gaze over to him. He cleared his throat, and tried to get used to his situation. For once in his life he had a responsibility. He was somewhat in charge of all the agents of the UIT. It wasn't much; the rag-tag group only did the "dirty work" for the corporation, but they were still lives that he felt he had a duty to keep alive. He wasn't their leader, more like an older brother.

"You all know what's going on tonight. I'm sure you all read the portfolios assigned to you earlier. You all must have checked over the briefings, but does anyone have any questions?" The other three remained silent. "Good. We should be reaching our destination in under ten minutes. Good luck to everyone."

[Khendon Sevon]

Red lights flared to life, piercing demon’s eyes in the sparsely lit cockpit. Khendon cursed and made a quick cross, fumbling with the silver connectors that were attached to his chair, “Hold on, this is going to be getting a little bumpy,” he said, as he finally secured the black bands of his crash webbing.

Khendon turned up the gravitational compensators and flipped several switches; the main engine’s exhaust changing from a clear gas to a bright blue flame which erupted with a growl. Khendon showed his approval for the drastic improvement in speed with a slick smile that faded as his sensors finally registered the amount and type of fighters following him.

“Someone man the rear turret!” Khendon screeched over the COM as he rolled the craft onto its silver belly, the turret he controlled belching three bolts of sizzling red energy, which collided with one of the six ancient T.I.E. fighters chasing his battered vessel. The craft which Khendon had fired upon’s left stabilizer quickly turned to powder under the steady barrage of energy from Khendon’s forward turret and the T.I.E. spun off into space.

Two more of the unwieldy opposing fighters trailed Khendon, firing upon his after shield generator.

“Take control of that turret, NOW!” Khendon yelled, yet again, maneuvering the Reborn Spirit into a tight arc, using his shields to ram one of the fighters, causing it to break up and the pilot to go EVA, exposing the pilot to the “elements” of space. “One down, four to go,” thought Khendon silently.