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Makoto Neosis
Oct 7th, 2002, 06:36:56 PM
1600 Hours, May 19th.

On a massive high rise building, within the durasteel jungles of Coruscant, a family sat down at their table to eat the evening meal. A Father, wearing casual white clothes and having a stubble across his chin. A Mother, quite nicely dressed and clean. A Son, a little babe barely into solid food, merrily bouncing in his seat.

Before the trio, a grand display of food loitered apon table, even making the most weathiest groan in desire.

Like they would be able to eat it though.

Within a flash, a heartbeat.. a focus of the eye. Their door exploded inward! Several mobsters flooded into the house and opened fire with blasters. Killing the family is a massive bloodbath..

Or most of them... they thought. The Father lay, still breathing, on his back with a black scar on his left side where his heart should've been....

He Mourned..


May 15, Year After. 0800 hours.

Neosis awoke with a start, throwing a stuffed pillow off the side of the bed while rumping the satin sheets in a frenzy. The Sniper was drenched in sweat, the dream kept reacurring night after blasted night. The Night where his family was slain, Kiznah (his wife) and his little boy Tobias.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and resting his head in open palms, Neosis took a few minutes to calm himself down before standing and taking a quick shower in the refresher. Coming out, he doned a black pair of slacks, white shirt and leather jacket.

On the way out of the simple apartment, Makoto had retreived his boots as well as the caddy for his portible weaponary. The Caddy kept two small pistols tucked neatly under his arms for quick draw or such if the need showed itself.

A dozen or so sets of minutes later, 0934 to be exact, Neosis sat in Yog's Bar and Grill sipping on a cup of black coffee. The Fateful day kept haunting the Sniper, would they come back to finish the job? If so, Neo was ready to go down blasing...

Shrugging it off, Makoto glanced up at the TV in the corner which continuously brodcasted the GNN. Nothing worth watching anyway and people kept talking too loudly... it had been nearly a year ago where his heart was torn apart. Thus begining his career as a freelance Sniper, Neosis used to just take jobs from whoever and signed up with corperations frequently. Now he just took jobs that came with writs. Still... the gangsters which had broken into his house on that fateful day had not turned even one hair up.

"Hey, Neosis, you need a refill on that joe?" The bartender asked calmly.

"Yes, Please," Neosis responded, sliding the cup torwards him casually before glancing behind him and around the room...

imported_Grev Drasen
Oct 7th, 2002, 10:21:30 PM
“Milk.”

Yes, even Sith drank milk. Drasen preferred to avoid the consumption of alcohol, it tended to delay the response of his reflexes and considering his current location - a Jedi bar of all places, a slight delay could cost him dearly.

Muffled, yet demanding, the voice moved up behind Neosis as the origin followed suit; seating himself in a stool adjacent to the sniper. The milk was served, and credits were paid, and the apprentice awaited. His stare jolting from one end of the tavern to the other, before easing on the tankard of white liquid before him.

No sight of him.

Makoto Neosis
Oct 8th, 2002, 09:06:01 AM
"You look like your looking for someone," Makoto calmly spoke, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the newcomer as his cup of java arrived.

imported_Grev Drasen
Oct 8th, 2002, 02:37:58 PM
“To look for would mean I sought after, in which case I’m not,”

Drasen hadn’t bothered to look up; probably another overcurious Padawan.

“I’m not looking for anyone.”

imported_Terran Starek
Oct 10th, 2002, 05:39:23 PM
"A soul is always seeking something," a soft voice spoke behind the man. He had not yet turned to see his face, but he could feel the glow of a smile on his back. "Whether it is a person, an object, or maybe just knowledge, it seems that the soul never quits searching."

He dare not touch the man--he would not invade his space. Not to mention the fact that Terran could sense a dark aura to the red-haired stranger. He wanted to lay a hand on his shoulder, to sooth him. He guessed it was just his own sense of empathy.

Terran flashed a look at Neosis. Having never met the man before, he hoped he wasn't imposing an unwanted presence. He had joined the conversation merely to spark an intelligent discussion. He bowed his head, respecting the other, and the look in his eye told Neosis that he would leave at any point if his company was not desired.