Reincarnation: Capture and Revamp.

[Makoto Neosis]

It was close to midnight on Coruscant.

Makoto was awake, as usual, cleaning his array of weaponry. All over the walls of his two bedroom apartment blasters and slug throwers hung on steel pegs, currently the sniper had a PSG 1 littered over the worktable across from his bed. The rifle had been dismantled and oiled which gave Makoto the job of reconstructing the weapon and going for the next.

Snapping parts into place, The Sniper checked the bolt action before standing and strolling over to an empty set of pegs and placing the rifle in sync with the alighment. Satisfied with the placement, the sniper went to the next weapon on the rack: the SIG SG 550 Sniper.

Taking his favored rifle from the pegs, Makoto retraced his steps to the table and restarted the progress…

He had no clue what was about to happen….

[imported_Altered Beast]

More specimens...more specimens for the master...that was all the Altered cared about. All they could focus on, see, smell, taste, touch, all they lived for was to acquire new specimens for the master. They had found one. He lived alone in an apartment. He carried guns. The Altered didn't fear guns. They weren't afraid of anything. Ten of them burst through the windows of the apartment, knocking guns from their racks, shrieking.

"You...are...the...latest...specimen...come..."

[Makoto Neosis]

When the windows exploded inward and less than a dozen monsters flooded into the bedroom, Makoto quickly stood up and spun around from his seat, knocking down the wooden chair and dropping half of the SIG's frame.

"You...are...the...latest...specimen...come..." They hissed?

"Go where?" he asked, reaching onto the table where a loaded pistol rested behind him. Without giving time for a responce, the Sniper swung the small slug thrower around and fired a succession of five shots before dashing to the door which led into the living room.

More monsters were in the apartment other than the few behind him, dropping the pistol in favor of a 50-round FN PC90 Mako opened fire on the first few of the beings to leap at him...

[imported_Altered Beast]

They charged onward, despite the bullets. Some fell dead, others paused to shriek in pain before moving steadily onward. One leapt in a long arc, taking Makoto between the shoulders.

"No...fighting...back..."

[Makoto Neosis]

Makoto was propelled forward by one of the Being's tackling him from behind. The added weight pushed the sniper to the floor hard and knocked the breath from his lungs as well, coughing and taking shots at the monsters infront of him as the one perched on his back tried to halt it.

As more and more of the creatures fell to the rain of subsonic rounds, the weapon finally ran out...

click/click/click

Mako gave a surprised look on his face as more of the beings grasped at his arms and legs and pinned them together, still fighting they dragged the sniper out...

[imported_Altered Beast]

Though his ammunition was depleted, still he struggled. A stray punch rendered the sniper unconcious. He awoke as all the new specimens did, strapped to a table. He was alone in the room, with a free view of the tools of their master's trade.

[Armaiil Kryatir]

The echo of tapping shoes floated into the room, an omen of what was to come. The creator Armaiil walked into the chamber and glared at Makoto.

"This was the best they could do? How pathetic..."

[Makoto Neosis]

When Makoto awakened, he tried to lift his left arm to rub where one of the things had landed a suckerpunch. It was then he found out that he was laying bound hand and foot to a slanted steel table.

"What the?" he spoke, straining against the restraints fruitlessly. Then the clopping echo of shoes filled the dark room, and a voice which spoke with a hint of distaste.

"Who the hell are you?!" Mako shouted, raged at the predictament...

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"I am the creator. That is all you need to know."

He started to put on some gloves, then thought better of it and threw them over his shoulder and into a garbage can.

"What to make of you..."

He studied Makoto. The man was in excellent physical condition, senses already close to the peak of human performance...

"A lycanthrope."

[Makoto Neosis]

A lycanthrope?! What's this madman thinking? Mako thought as The Creator ran his gaze over him. Glaring with peircing ruby eyes, Mako again jerked at the restraints which only providied a slight slit in his wrist letting a trickle of blood to flow.

Oh boy, once he got out of this... well... the creator had another thing coming...

[Armaiil Kryatir]

Armaiil smiled.

"Hm...hah...hahaeeheee! You mean to escape? Foolery. Not even my most perfect, precious specimen could escape those bonds!"

He twirled a scalpel between his fingers.

"First change...Let's make you furry...silver hair. By the time I finish with all the other changes, it should be complete..."

He placed the scalpel on Makoto's stomach and moved to a counter covered with jars. On shelves were still more, each labeled in some unknown script. The creator began to take jars down, seemingly at random, and began to prepare the DNA combination that would bring about the changes he wished to make.

[Makoto Neosis]

When the creator turned his back after placing the scaple on Mako's stomach, the sniper let his head fall over to the left and began to tug on the shirt he wore with the corner of his mouth. A few tugs brought the scapel closer to falling off it's perch and closer to Mako's grasp.

The Creator kept himself busiy with something on another table, which was good. With continuous tugging on his shirt, Mako finally made the tool fall handle first into his awaiting hand but the sharp end tapped loudly against the table.

Taking in a deep breath of air, Mako stuck the tool quickly into his back pocket so it seemed that the scaple dissapeared as the Creator whirled around, if he did...

Hopefully..

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"Thank you for holding onto that. When I graft your tail to you I'll have a blade handy."

Armaiil approached with the prepared syringes and twisted his arm, pinning it down so he could not turn it back. The scrawny doctor was surprisingly strong.

"Get ready...you'll feel juuuuust a pinch..."

The needle itself wasn't painful at all, but new DNA never sat well with the old. It traveled through Makoto's bloodstream like hellfire, bringing an intense burning pain that grew with each injection.

[Makoto Neosis]

At first Mako only felt a slight tingle from the injection point, like the pain from a flu shot. Clenching his hand experimentally, Mako gave the doctor a strange glare before an extreme flash of pain racked the Sniper’s body.

With clenched teeth, and an extreme resistance to scream from the pain, Mako strained against the bonds as his back arched and muscles contracted. The new DNA had begun to attack the specific cells that they replicated, replacing the slain with new cells.

Mako’s body flowed into harsh seizures by the time the second Injection had been served, still not crying out.

Self-discipline kept him from doing so, years and years of training to resist pain and to keep himself still when needed. Wouldn’t help if you had been shot in the leg for the pain to cloud your vision from the target….

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"Just like my successful specimen...you refuse to scream."

Armaiil laughed quietly and picked up a pair of scissors, cutting away Makoto's hair in large clumps.

"But he refused to scream out of sheer willpower, as opposed to training."

[Makoto Neosis]

"I--" Mako hissed, twitching heavily, "--bet!"

Growling through clenched teeth as the mad creator cut a bit too close to his scalp and added to the firey pain..

[Armaiil Kryatir]

He cleared two broad patches on the top of Makoto's skull, then brandished the scalpel in one hand, preparing a syringe with the other.

"Care to guess what our next edit is?"

[Makoto Neosis]

"Gee---" Flash of pain, "--- Humor me!"

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"Humor? Oh, I find I have trouble making jokes. We're going to give you a set of ears more suited to your wolfish new lifestyle."
He spun the scalpel between his fingers.

"This will hurt, but only for a moment..."

He cut two gashes in the top of Makoto's skull and pried the flesh apart. He injected the genetic material into the cuts, then released them. This was the part where his usual specimens started screaming...this was also the part where his evil dog had begun his first string of curses all those years ago.

[Makoto Neosis]

The immence wave of nerosinapses snet Mako into another spar of seizures, jerking at the restraints and growling loudly. Like the first, the pain started as a small rock but escalated into a avalanche.

"AGH! FREELLL!" Mako nearly screamed out, but it issued out as a harsh whisper....

[Armaiil Kryatir]

The creator laughed, a high pitched cackle that chilled the weak of heart to the bone.

"You're a lucky one. There is only one more alteration to make."

He filled another syringe and injected it into his arm, close to his first one.

"Rest awhile."

The injection would put him to sleep for ten minutes, during which time the doctor could turn the man over to graft the tail.

[Makoto Neosis]

The pain that constantly racked the sniper began to slowly deaden as the chemical raced through his bloodstream, his eyes fluttered and his breathing calmed as well as the thrashing..

Quite quickly, the pain stopped as all the nerves deadned and the sniper fell quietly to sleep. Pale and unmoving..

[Armaiil Kryatir]

Armaiil unclasped him and turned him on his back, then refastened the straps. The work of preparing the rest of the genetic material was quick, and soon the sniper stirred.

"Welcome back...are you ready for the last of the pain?"

[Makoto Neosis]

It was all a hazy dream until Mako felt his nose pressing painfully against the cold steel. "W-hha?"

Turning his head over to the side, Mako watched the crazy doctor out of the corner of his eye. The Creator twirled the scaple ambidexterioustly and talked about something the sniper couldn't comprehend in his drugged state...

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"Don't think ill of me for this. I was married, until my wife was killed by one of my creations."

He made a cut at the base of Makoto's spine and pulled the flesh apart, then cut further past the muscle to the bone. Armaiil injected the genetic fluid, trying to think if there was anything he'd missed.

"Oh, those human ears will have to go."

He reached over and cut them cleanly with his scalpel, then threw the tools aside. He unclasped Makoto and called in his Altered.

"Take him to the holding cells. Keep things dark. We will change his way of thinking as well as his appearance."

[Makoto Neosis]

As the being drug the sniper off, the change had already begun…

8 Days Later. Midnight.

In the perfectly cubed prison, Mako sat on the steel bunk with his head down. It was too dark to distinguish anything about his form, but…

He saw… oh yes, he saw. His arms and torso were covered in a short gray coat of fur, his face deformed slightly so it seemed that the sniper had a muzzle of a wolf, a pair of ears perked out from under his matted head of dark hair, where the doctor had cut him open…

He would kill that man. Slowly

A light flashed open, Mako shutting his eyes as he heard the flick of the switch and the altered beings stormed into the room like a honor guard. He glared out of the corner of his strange eyes, the teal blazing color boring into each creature…

The clop of shoes he had not heard for the past week filled the room…

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"Heeheeeeheee...PERFECT!"

Armaiil fairly salivated at the results of his alterations.

"Do you approve of my changes?"

[Makoto Neosis]

Mako stood, his booted feet clopping against the transparent floor as he stood at the glass.

"No." He growled with narrowed eyes, the tip of his muzzle nearly pressing against the glass. The predatorial instict of the wolf in motion, "Do you?"

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"I do, very much so...Let's make a few more..."

The cell was basked in darkness once again.

"Makoto Neosis...sniper for hire...cold-blooded, nigh-emotionless..."

The creator's voice rang from all directions.

"Let's take that to the next extreme!"

A probe droid hovered through the back wall and held Makoto in place. It fitted itself over his head, monitoring his brainwaves. It stuck him with a needle.

"Tell me, Mako, how do you feel?"

[Makoto Neosis]

As the probe droid pulled Mako back and fitted itself over his head, the sniper gave a quick snarl before wincing as a hair thin needle spiked through his skull and into his mind.

Pulses flowed through the grey matter, giving his whole thinking progress a tinge of something...

"I feel like when I get out of this cell, your going to be painted on the wa--" A sharp spike exploded in his mind, making his whole body convulse. Quickly, everything he knew about himself: Gone. His personallity: Gone.

Everything he knew, with exeption of his skills, whiped clean...

"--llahg..."

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"Yes, I hate that feeling. Tell me, do you feel angry at all? Sad? Happy? Do you feel?"

[Makoto Neosis]

Before the Creator could think about he asked, Mako tore the probe droid off his head. The needle broke at it's origin base on the droid's frame, with the droid removed he chucked it into the wall before diging the needle out with his fingers and tossing it to the floor.

A normal person would've gone through hell of pain to get the droid off...

"Feel?" The reborne creature spoke, his mind wiped totally away, the concept of pain, love, emotions... gone...

Standing, the sniper again traversed up to the wall between the two. "Who are you?" He spoke, experimentally while running a hand down the glass before rearing back and punching the wall solidly for experimentation.

Caressing his hand, the sniper turned his back on the Creator and his creations. Mako stalked back over to the droid, glancing down at it...

It was like everything in the past twenty-six years had never happened...

[Armaiil Kryatir]

Good. The man was a clean slate.

"You know, of all the world's creatures you are the most shunned. The most reviled. They hate you, though they know not why. It's never bothered you. Not in the least. You don't care, you've never known anguish, pain, anger, sadness...nor do you know happiness, joy, love. You, friend, know no emotion, and have but one goal..."

At this, the creator sneered.

"Those who hate and mock you must perish. Kill them mercilessly, or they may escape to hunt you down!"

[Makoto Neosis]

It worked as programming, the Creator's words did. Mako watched him speak from over his shoulder, looking down at his bare shoulders as the man finished speaking...

"Who do I report to?" Military training showing through, instict like.

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"Yourself. You have no bosses, no higher ups to report to. You owe alleigance to no one, save myself."

[Makoto Neosis]

"No ranking officer..." Makoto whispered to himself the aloud, "... Negative."

Turning on his heel, the sniper rose his hand to his forehead in a salute while standing at attention. "Sir. In the absence of a commanding officer, A non-military personell may be asigned the role under NRSF Code 199 paragraph 3."

"A Marksman, Code 927 paragraph 8, is restricted from the duty while in service," Obviously, the military training stuck true on Mako's subcontious, making the sniper related back...

"Sir."

[Armaiil Kryatir]

Armaiil raised a brow and pondered this.

"Very well, report to me if you must...but remember that ultimately, the decisions of who to kill, how to kill, what times and places are ultimately yours to make."

[Makoto Neosis]

Still at salute stance, Mako gave a firm 'Sir, Yes Sir'.

[Armaiil Kryatir]

The creator reached to the side and pressed a button. The transparisteel cube hissed slowly open. Before Makoto could react the Altered swarmed him and knocked him unconcious, then carried him out on their shoulders.

"Another success...I'm having so few of those these days..."

The Altered deposited Makoto in an apartment, not unlike the one he'd lived in formerly. The creator had loaded it with the tools of Makoto's trade, so he might begin his new task immediately. The beasts left him and disappeared, it would be hours before the man awoke.

[Makoto Neosis]

When Mako woke up, he found himself laying on his stomach on soft creme colored carpet in a new place. His teal eyes flicked around before he hoisted himself up to a stand. On the coffee table, surrounded by black leather furnature, a folded garmet lay with a black portable phone on the top.

Cocking his head, Mako set the phone aside and unfolded the robe. It was woven out of red fibers, a darker front clasped together with golden chains. The bright fibers shimmered slightly in the dim room, Mako let a smirk cross his face before putting it on and adjusting it so it fit like it was made to.

Making sure that not one crease matted the robe, Mako turned and glanced over several wooden crates with NRSF branded on the side and tops. Just as he was about to force one open, the phone rang...

[Armaiil Kryatir]

"Settling in?" came a familiar voice. "You'll find all you need in this room. Consider it your "base of operations". Do not use this phone to contact me. I will always contact you. Your goal firstly is to find those who would stop my activities and kill them."

[Makoto Neosis]

"Yes Sir, -click-" The phone went dead as soon as he spoke the words. Dumbly looking at the buzzing peice of technology for a heartbeat, Mako pocketed the phone into the robe before busting a hole into the closest crate and ripping it open. Ontop, a wrapped box lay over what looked like alot of guns.

Removing the box, Mako gave it one swift glace before putting it down and opening it. A plain sword, as apposed to what he thought it was, rested comfortably..

It would do it's job well enough until needing ot be replaced... But... who was the sniper to kill first? The Commander had'nt specified anyone inparticular...