Hunter Hunted (Fook)

[Codename: Abaddon]

Keppaa Brens, Carshoulis Cluster

A burned out stim joined it's brothers in an ashy grave filled with their corpses. Their bodies unceremoniously snubbed into naught against the bottom of the ceramic bowl. A set of delicate fingers withdrew and immediately dip into the package for another, and like his brothers before him he was inserted between a pair of thin lips and then set on fire. The brief flame lit the dark warehouse floor, revealing the well dressed woman sitting behind the folding table; it's only other occupant the rapidly filling bowl. The flame was reflected in the large shades that obscured half of her face. Still, one would not miss the telltale stripes and pointed ears of a Cizerack. A middle-aged female, at that.

After a long drag the stim was removed and carefully balanced between two fingers on a hand left to rest on the tabletop. At the edges of the dim light one could make out shapes moving among the pallets and racking; large silhouettes build of muscle and sinew, and accented with the glint of metal. The door into the warehouse floor was unlocked. A guest would be arriving soon. The woman is calm. This is not the first time she's done this. Extreme circumstances call for desperate actions, and it always inevitably comes down to this. Violence was never the option, but sometimes it was an acceptable final solution.

[Li Ho Fook]

Bounty hunting was a difficult profession to maintain. Most who entered the Bounty Hunter's Guild lasted less than a year, and you were considered a seasoned veteran after four years in its ranks. Even still, the drop-off rate skyrocketed beyond five years, with many hunters either catching a blaster bolt by that point, or bowing out of the profession for fear of doing so. Those who made it beyond five years then fell into three classes: The lucky, the unscrupulous, and the damn good. Li Ho Fook liked consider himself a smattering of the three, with an emphasis on the latter, as he belonged to a truly elite club. He had served the Guild for eleven years of full-time work. Such distinction was rare in the Guild, and with it came access to jobs most lower-ranking hunters would never even know about, often because it was above their level - and their pay grade.

This was not to say that such jobs were snatched up by the distinguished few in such a circle, as with the increased payouts came vastly increased danger, or pushed limits of morality some of the more noble hunters did not wish to stray into. The only reason Fook even clicked on the posting in the first place was because it was marked as "Live Capture," - well, that and the truly handsome payout which came with it. Disappointment set in immediately as almost no details about the target were available. In his experience that often meant something shady was going on, or it was such a high-risk target that the buyer didn't want to risk tipping the target off. Fook sat back on his purple, crushed-velvet couch, mulling over the posting.

It had been sent only to those with ten years or more experience, it was fresh, and the payout was massive - the sort typically reserved for an assassination job on the kind of person who would surely have a goon squad set on you if you pulled the trigger. Everything about it told him he shouldn't take it, that he should move on to another listing and just cherry-pick the best of the normal postings available. He hadn't survived eleven years in his profession by being foolish, after all.

And yet, a few hours later, the 36th Chamber touched down upon cold duracrte, and Fook strode out of its access hatch. Gone were his typical flashy clothes, gold chains, and diamond-encrusted bling, replaced by a uniform of black leather with duraplast armor plating, and hints of orange thrown in for flavor. Sneakers had been traded out for boots, while a networked harness held a pair of blasters on his thighs, and numerous bits, bobs, and accessories scattered around the rest of his body, while his ringed tail bobbed freely behind himself, and a heavy, dual-setting blaster rifle was carried in his black-furred paws. It was far from his typical look, but for the price being offered, Fook had found it best to show up prepared. Despite his short stature, the wah carried himself with all the menace of a rancor.

In through the unlocked door, as his instructions had said, Fook paused, beady black eyes peering into the darkness beyond. The pause was momentary before a pair of goggles were pulled down over his eyes, and the interior of the warehouse was revealed to him in near-monochrome purple low-light amplification. Crates, pallets, large bodies, he scanned his surroundings until he found the thing which didn't belong, then began his march directly toward it - a woman gently pulling a drag from a half-burnt stim at a table.

"You the job?" the four-foot, two-inch bounty hunter asked, voice deeper than his stature would have implied. His googles remained on, and would until suitable lighting was provided, if it were to be provided at all.

[Codename: Abaddon]

Vaarranaa shivered in revulsion at what little of the impish creature she could see in the poor light. Humans she could stand to a point. They knew their place in the hierarchy, and just how beneath her they were, but this thing barely resembled a person at all. Still, he would have his uses. Even inanimate objects have worth, after all. Overcoming her disgust was as easy as smothering out another stim. She put on a business face behind her shades and motioned for the creature to take the seat opposite her at the table.

"jYess."

It was all the response she mustered before plucking another stim from it's pack and lit it up like all the ones before it. This time the flame served to illuminate her guest. She knew what he looked like. She'd seen his file before contacting him in the first place. The brief glimpse served to reinforce her disgust and confirm his identity. By the time the flame ended she welcomed the obscuring darkness. She did not want her identity discovered either, if she could help it. It would not be good for business. Stashing the stim between her lips she stuck her hand inside her suit jacket and withdrew a hologram projecter. Setting the small disc on the tabletop she tapped the center and an image sprung to life; a humanoid clad head to toe in body armor and heavily armed, a stim was sticking out through a ventilation inlet in the front of mouth of the full helmet.

"jI want hjim... Abaddon... brrought to me. Aljive. jIt jiss a bountjy hunter and ssometjimess mercenarjy. No Gujild affjiljiatjion. Hjiss sshjip jiss the Nemesis of Reason. jIt... he movess about a lot, makjing hjim djiffjicult to trrack. jYou'll fjind hjim herre on the Alljiance ssjide of the borrderr. jI cannot sstrressss enough that therre jiss to be no grreat hatrm brtought to Abaddon. jI want hjim aljive and healthy. Hjiss possssessssjionss arre not jimporrtant to me. Howeverr, he wjill not hessjitate to kjill jyou. Thjiss..." her stim was once again stashed and from the coat was withdrawn a comm unit and a cred chit, "jIss a ljinked comm to contact me wjith when jyou have hjim, and thjis jiss half the pajyment up front."

"Anjy quesstjionss?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Hunting a hunter. It was quite possibly the worst type of job anyone in the Bounty Hunter's Guild could accept, barring the one exception which helped define just why this job was so lucrative: Abaddon was not a Guild member. That was good on two counts for Fook, as bringing down an unlicensed hunter who didn't pay union dues was always a joy, and more importantly Abaddon wouldn't be able to just check the Guild records and see there was a bounty out on him.

Still, the job brought with it many problems, not the least of which was how this transaction was being conducted. His goggles remaining on, Fook watched his ship's computer run facial recognition against his host, but he said nothing about it. Instead he accepted the comm, while leaving the cred chit alone. "Payment has to go through the Guild," he replied, then withdrew a business card with correct contact information on it, sliding it up next to the chit. "If I take funds directly, that could be seen as underhanded. That, and you'd have no guarantee of work being done. For both our sakes, wire that chit through the Guild."

Leaning back in his chair, Fook then studied the armored man in the holoprojection before him. "Abaddon. Don't think I've heard of this playa. You got a shot of this cat without his helmet, yo?"

The lean was hardly necessary for comfort, instead carried out to allow facial recognition more angle to play with, while his question would not only give him more to go on in his search, but would likely yield more speech to record and analyze. It was a fool of a bounty hunter who did not know who he was working for, after all. Especially when the terms of contract specified that their identity be confidential to the Guild.

[Codename: Abaddon]

A brief smirk tarnished the otherwise empty face of Vaarranaa Kaajaani; fashion mogul of the Carshoulis Cluster.

"jYou arre morre honorrable than ssome of the other Gujild Hunterrss jI have jinterracted wjith."

The chit was withdrawn. Disappearing back into the suit jacket. Another long drag on the stim, followed by a flick of ash. The stim was already halfway through. Already she was fidgeting with the box, ready to shake out another.

"No. Therre are no holoss. That sshould not be a prroblem. Abaddon neverr takess off hjiss arrmor, and jif possssjible jI would prreferr hjiss jidentjitjy to remajin a ssecrret. jI would ssuggesst asskjing the Gujild about hjiss wherreaboutss. Abaddon hass a tendencjy of falljing afoul of the Gujild. jI'm ssurre thejy have qujite the dossssjier."

[Li Ho Fook]

For the price being offered, Fook had expected more to go on. There had been no confidential information shared, and the subject of his target's actual identity had just been shut down. Why exactly he had to make the trip out to meet his mystery client in person was becoming less and less clear, as it all could have been handled by a simple holo-mail. His own leather and armor creaked lightly as he sat back up, staring directly into those sunglasses through his single-pane goggles.

"So, my target is some unknown cat in a tin can, could be anyone under that helmet, and you're telling me I should check with my people about where to find him," the Wah summed up the lack of information. "And even when I bag this sucka, you's sayin' I can't pop that top and take a look? How'm I gonna know I ain't just cuffin' some impostor he puts in his armor? Y'all ain't thought this through, homegirl, has you? But, fine, that's what you want, I can dig it. As long as that chit's wired to the Guild within an hour, I'm on it, and I know you know my record, or otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, would I? But one last piece of information I need: what's the timeframe? How long's the window on this job, feel me?"

[Codename: Abaddon]

The half hidden striped face did not so much as twitch at his accusations and questions. The only movement was another drag from the stim.

"jI know jit jisss an unussual job, and that jisss whjy jyou came hjighljy rrecommended asss bejing capable of a challenge. jI cannot tell jyou how jI know, but jI assssurre jyou that onljy the one jI want wjill everrr be wearrjing that arrmorr, and wjill neverrr wjilljingljy take jit off. It'sss a matterrr of prrjide, jI beljieve. You wjill sstjill be pajid. The tjimefrrame jisss asss ssoon asss jyou possssjibljy can. Therre jisss no end on the contrract, but do not usse that asss an excusse to dawdle. Alsso jI sshould add that he wjill be expectjing ssomeone to come lookjing forrr hjim. Oh, and jI have the frrequencjiesss forrr sseverral hjisss weaponsss. Jammjing them wjill put hjim at a djissadvantage."

From her lap a flimsi was produced. It contained a list of mostly legal weaponry along with serial numbers and the electronic lock frequencies for the weapons with the correct tech. The list was quite long. Blaster rifles, carbines, flechette launchers, pistols, a variety of grenades, and something called a Hadron Destroyer.

"jI sstrrongljy ssuggesst ssubdujing hjim asss qujickljy asss possssjible. He hasss a lot of blassterrss, and wjill fjind one that jisss not jammed. Alsso, he hasss a rreputatjion forrr takjing a lot of abusse, sso keep that jin mjind. Asss forrr fjindjing hjim, jI am actjiveljy lookjing. jI wjill comm jyou jif jI fjind anjythjing."

[Li Ho Fook]

Beneath his goggles, Fook's little white eyebrows perked at the offer of weapon jamming codes, and his paw reached out to accept the flimsi. Flipping it over, he scanned down the list, knowing his ship's AI unit would be seeing everything he was through the goggles and automatically logging it all. "Dag, yo, what's a Hadron Destroyer?" the Wah snorted.

His attention quickly turned back to his client, ears drinking in each word. It had taken a while, but he finally had the information he needed to begin his job, and prayed the Guild would have further detail to give him.

"Sounds good," Fook nodded. He then reached up to pull his goggles up and rested them on his fuzzy forehead so that he could look upon his client directly. "Just gotta know one thing, Mrs. Kaajaani," he said, dropping a name she clearly hadn't given him, "Under that suit, human, or Cizerack? Makes a difference for chemical concentrations should I need to gas homeboy, here. Guessing you don't want his ass brain-damaged, and all that."

[Codename: Abaddon]

A flick of the stim betrayed nothing to the little cretin.

"jI assssurre jyou jI have no jidea what jit jiss. jIf jI knew anjythjing about blasterrss I wouldn't be hjirrjing jyou. Underr the ssujit jiss a mjyssterrjy, but jI assssume human. Averrage hejight and wejight."

Lifting her hand she snapped her fingers together, but the sound betrayed the subtle motion with it's intensity. From behind a stack of pallets a large armed Cizerack male emerged. A beautiful specimen of the species; rippling with muscle through his tall, wide frame. She emphasized her coming point by running a hand across the barrel chest, her hand looking delicate and small in comparison. Her hand withdrew, but not before dipping inappropriately low.

"A Cjizerack would neverr fjit jin arrmorr ljike that."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Unless it's actually a woman," Fook shrugged. The display of overt masculinity didn't faze him, as he knew he could take that big meatwad in a fight, and mop the floor with him. Good things come in small packages, so the saying goes. Especially when those small packages have large packages. But that was neither here nor there.

When it became clear that no more useful information was to be gained, the Wah pushed back from the table, his chair grating across the duracrete floor. Quick paws snagged the holoprojector and flimsi, pocketing both before taking up his blaster rifle once more. "I'll take the job, yo. But if that chit ain't wired through the guild within an hour, y'all best find yourself a different hunter, feel me?"

With that he turned his back and tugged his goggles down over his face, the interior of the warehouse illuminating clearly in shades of purple before him. The job proposed would not be an easy one, even with the full power of the Guild library and connections at his disposal, but he'd accepted it, so he'd see it through - providing payment cleared, of course. While he was many things, Li Ho Fook was not known for selfless charity.

[Codename: Abaddon]

"Don't worrjy about the pajyment. jIt wjill be therre ass ssoon ass thjiss meetjing endss. Jusst rememberr that Abaddon jiss to ljive. jIt jis verrjy jimporrtant that he ljivess, and he won't make jit eassjy."

She pulled hard on the stim, burning down the rest of the shaft and reducing it to ash that was dashed into the bowl with enough force to thump the table. When she spoke next she let the smoke billow out her mouth like smoke from a dragon's maw.

"Good luck."

[Li Ho Fook]

Luck was not something Li Ho Fook believed in. You either were good, bad, or worked your tail off to get things done. Fook liked to believe he was a combination of the foremost and the latter.

"I'll keep you updated, yo," he called back over his shoulder, raising the provided comm in one paw as he made his way to the exit. Hunting an unlicensed bounty hunter was the kind of job you hoped you'd never get in his line of work - especially when the subject had to be brought in alive - and yet he'd taken it, possibly foolishly. Pocketing the comm, he then tapped a button on his wrist computer.

"Yo, G-Dawg," he addressed the small, holographic face which projected itself above his wrist. "Comin' back now. Hella whack job, homie. Open the rear hatch, and open a secure line to the Guild, feel me?"

"DONE AND DONE, SIR!" the small, holographic human face exclaimed with bombastic glee. "WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO START UP WATER FOR TEA, AS WELL?"

"That'd be dope, homie," Fook nodded.

Once out of the warehouse, the Wah pulled back his goggles and started into a run to his ship, the 36th Chamber. The one-time Squib light freighter would have typically stuck out like a sore thumb with its chrome orange and metallic lime paint job, and mirror-gold windows, but discretion was always the better part of valor when meeting a new client, so its active camouflage was engaged, coating its electrostatic paint with a matte black finish for understated style. Charging up the back ramp, Fook paused only long enough to remove his boots and stow his blaster rifle before the hatch closed behind him.

Inside the 36th Chamber, the massive holovision which dominated one wall flared to life, and Fook dropped onto his purple, crushed-velvet couch. "Yo, G," he said aloud, though there was no one else onboard with him. "Need everything the Guild has on some whack-ass so-called bounty hunter that goes by the name 'Abaddon.' Details, history, movement patterns, last seen. Everything, feel me?"

Upon the screen, the visage of a human of Asian descent appeared, sporting a long black beard and a comically historical green silk hat. "INDEED, SIR!" the face boomed.

"Meantime, let's get this shit off-world," Fook leaned back, then fished a seatbelt out from the rear crevice of the couch. "Nice and easy."

Leaning back, the Wah felt his ship's engines start up, while its AI manned the helm. Less than a minute later the 36th Chamber had left the planet behind and plotted a lazy course among the stars, content to cruise until funds posted to Fook's account. Work never started until the meter dropped, after all.

[Codename: Abaddon]

APPLICANT: "Abaddon"
STATUS: Denied
Notes: Applicant has applied for the ninth time to join the guild, and was denied again. Attached are the files for "Bloodshriek", "Nightsaber", "Bigus Dickus", "R34PER", and more. All are previous identities of the same individual that date back several years. Charter cost was paid but ultimately the candidate was rejected based on observed hyper-violent tendencies, a lack of tact and maturity, and a habit of extreme collateral damage. Candidate was twitchy, overeager, and obnoxious. Abaddon does have a record of many successful bounties. His personal style involves a lot of noise and attention, personal injury, and destruction of private and public property. It is not the sort of culture that we wish to cultivate within the Guild.

I recommend rejecting further applications from this individual unless a serious change of character has taken place. No doubt he will return as soon as he recoups the charter cost.
<align=center>Hunt Master Gaellen Arturus, Moss Espa 442 (4 days ago)</align=center>

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook stared at his holovision screen, finally blinking before glancing over at the picture-in-picture of Guan Yu. "Seriously? This is the sucka that stripe-ass wants?" he groaned.

A black-furred paw reached up to rub his forehead as he reviewed the entry again. "Dag, yo, what kind of dumbass just don't dig after nine rejections, dawg? G, ping the Guild, see if they've got any leads on locations, or ship registration manifests for his whip, yo."

Unfastening his seat belt, the Wah slipped down from his couch and paced over to the 36th Chamber's kitchenette, where a kettle of water was just about to reach boil. From a drawer a low, iron teapot was pulled, and a pinch of loose leaf tea added to it before the kettle was poured in so that his tea could brew and steep. As he waited for the perfect color and flavor to be reached, Fook mulled over a half-dozen plans, anything from deception to outright pursuit, and yet one idea kept forcing its way back to the forefront of his mind.

"G-Dawg, another message. Send this to the Guild:

"Hunt Master Gaellen Arturus, this is Li Ho Fook. Bounty order has come in on applicant 'Abaddon.' Request to cancel the refund of applicant's charter cost, and a message be sent to the applicant instead. Message to read as follows:

"'Applicant Abaddon. further review has been made of your latest application for Guild status, and we see possible promise. A second interview will be required. Please confirm your continued interest, and a meeting will be arranged for you at a convenient Guild office.' End message.

"G-Art, I'm gonna need Hunt Master status reactivated just for this job on my Hung Lo ID, dig? Gonna lure this sucka in, pretend to do a follow-up interview, get him all relaxed, then bag his ass. Given the subject's propensity for violence, this seems like the safest route for all involved. If he replies, need to know his location so I can jet to the closest Guild office, feel me? Fook out."

Guan Yu nodded upon his screen. "MESSAGE SENT! ALSO, THE FUNDS HAVE POSTED TO YOUR ACCOUNT WHILE YOU WERE RECORDING. A MOST TIDY SUM, IF I DO SAY SO!"

"Better be, for this job," Fook snorted. There, that was enough time for his tea to brew, and he poured the steaming, clear-brown liquid into a simple ceramic cup before finding his seat once more. If his plan worked, it would be the easiest job he'd had in ages. If it didn't work, he'd just have to do it the old-fashioned way.

[Codename: Abaddon]

Mos Espa, Tatooine

Tatooine was a horrible planet. It had sand, for starters, which had a way of worming it's way into your armor lining despite it's triple sealed underlayer and built in environment protection, but it was also hot. Not just hot, but like crazy hot. The twin cooling units were working overtime and still it felt like he was slowly turning into sweat soup inside this tin can. To make matters even worse there was hardly any shade to be found. What little there was to be found was high value real estate and already filled with market stalls and street peddlers.

That meant that he, Abaddon the Black, or the Great, nah just Abaddon; was left out in direct sunlight. The blacks and dark grays of his armor were doing very little to reflect the heat. Burnt out stims littered the sand around his feet and in his hands was a flimsi advertising his services. "Bounty Hunter. Looking for work. Need credits to get home. God bless." So far there had been no takers, and credits were dwindling low. So low that he was going to have to choose between stims and food again, unless another little old lady happens by and gives him twenty credits. Fat chance of that on a miserable planet like this with everyone walking around with perpetual swamp ass.

Fuck, why does this keep happening? He was so sure he would make it into the Guild this time. I mean, that Hunt Master didn't even look at his Hadron Destroyer. What else could he possibly want? It's all bullshit, that's what it is. God damn, none of this would be happening if he still had remembered to fill up his fuel tank before giving all his credits to the guild. Nah. It wasn't his fault. It was that Hunt Masters fault. If he had gotten into the Guild he would have gotten fuel rations, and jobs right off the bat to put credits back in his pockets. Bunch of assholes.

His drooping helmet perked up when a couple of sunburned Rodians walked by. Clearing his throat, he tried his best Rodian, his voice heavily filtered and altered as it passed through the air filters of his helmet.

"Yo holmes, you need some gringos jumped? Two hundred creditos. Yeah? Keep talking in your nonsense words, fucking bug eyes! Best keep steppin'!"

Pulling his comm from his belt on habit to check what time it was, despite having a chrono on his helmet HUD, and also to see if his farm crops were ready to be harvested yet, but instead was greeted with a message left. Swiping his armored finger several times across the screen trying to get the motion to register, he finally opened the message. It was from that goddamn Hunt Master, guy can die in a fi- oh. A follow up interview? FOR REAL!? Fuck yeah! That's right. He must have come to his senses. Probably had some of his buddies point what a kickass gun that Abaddon guy had. Yeah. That's right. I'm the boss.

A reply was thrown together, not proof read, and riddled with typos, time saving abbreviations, and animated emoticons.

---

Not even an hour later Fook's console lit up, indicating an incoming message.

"Greetings, Li Ho Fook. I have extended your invitation to Abaddon, and he has readily accepted. He is still here in Mos Espa. If you can provide your ETA I can set a time for the meeting. I do hope you know what you are doing. I would be very disappointed if any damage was to befall my office. We only just repaired the walls from the last time Abaddon was here. Temporary Hunt Master status has been applied to your account. I will have a few hunters keeping an eye but most will be evacuated for their own safety. I have prepared our old armory for you to reduce the collateral damage." - ​Hunt Master Gaellen Arturus, Moss Espa 442

[Li Ho Fook]

Several hours later, the 36th Chamber touched down upon Tatooine, and its pilot embarked, catching a rickshaw to the Guild office. Gone were his street clothes, and instead of donning his mission armor and gear, Fook had instead opted for a different sort of uniform: the one of the unimpressed corporate middle-man.

Dust was brushed off his charcoal gray slacks as he stepped from the rickshaw, then straightened the black necktie around the collar of his short-sleeved, white button-down shirt. A pair of thick-framed black glasses, and a black briefcase completed the look, though he would not be wholly mistaken for a moisture farm output regulatory inspector. On his belt was clipped his badge, a pair of blaster pistol power cells, a couple small pouches, and at the small of his back was holstered his stun pistol. Around his left forearm was wrapped a wrist computer vambrace. Clearing his throat, Fook stepped into the air-conditioned halls of the local Guild office, via the employee entrance.

It was a simple matter to check in, as he was expected, an once he had done so, the attending secretary made herself scarce. Fook and Abaddon were given the place to themselves, as it were, with the armored wannabe bounty hunter shown on a security monitor feed, simply sitting in a small conference room.

Fook let him wait for another twenty-seven minutes.

When he at last made his entry, Fook did so with his briefcase and a clipboard in one paw, and a mug of stimcaff in the other, not paying Abaddon any mind at all as he crossed the room to set his things down, have a seat, and take a sip from his mug before thumbing through a few flimsis attached to the clipboard.

"So, Mr... Abandon, is it?" Fook greeted him without looking up, voice dripping with corporate apathy. "I'm Hung Lo, Hunt Master with the Bounty Hunters Guild. Due to the number of applications you've made, and been denied, the head office has sent me to have a chat with you. It says here you want to be a licensed bounty hunter, is that correct?"

Only then did Fook look up from his clipboard, beady black eyes peering both through and over those thick-framed glasses at his quarry. This was going to be much, much too easy.

[Codename: Abaddon]

Could he have walked to the complex? Yeah, he could have. Like a chump. The Guild was calling him back, that meant he was getting in for sure this time, and that meant credits. Bookoo credits. He didn't need what little he had left. Nah. That was well spent on the cab ride over, and even then he was short a few credits. Wasn't like that driver was gonna do something about it, not when his passenger has a Lastech V2 Hadron Destroyer (http://conceptartworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/DUST_514_Concept_Art_11a.jpg) in his hands. Yeah, the guy yelled still, but Abaddon fired back with instructing him to bill the Bounty Hunters Guild. That shut him up real fast.

The facility here in Mos Espa was more than just an outpost. It was a training facility. Lots of land out here and not enough rich neighbors to complain about the noise. Firing ranges at the back looked out over the dunes. Obstacle courses to the east and to the west was an older building. That was where he had been instructed to meet with the Hunt Master. Must be a more private office. That's what a hot shot like Abaddon the Great and Powerful deserved. Although, he had to admit that it sure looked like an armory, what with the reinforced durocrete walls, retainment fence, and the fallen sign that said armory. Nah. It couldn't be. There was a big armory building on the other side of the office. He'd seen it, because he unsuccessfully tried to shoot through it to prove the power of his weapon.

Them Bounty Hunters really knew how to build a solid armory.

Stepping through the heavy, reinforced blast door he found himself in an empty room populated with empty racks running along every wall and a single table in the center of the room. Taking one of the two chairs he leaned back into it, rocking it back on it's hind legs. The Hunt Master was taking his sweet time, but that was fine with Abaddon. Queuing up his favorite hard synth jizzcore mix he let the waves of hard thumbing bass wash through his helmet while the outside world lived in dull, boring silence. The crescendo came, with that sweet bass drop and hard thumping follow up, right as the door opened. Silencing the music he lived for a moment filled with the ringing of his ears as his eyes watched the strange creature walk in.

"Yeah, yeah. That's all good and all, but first what are you?"

The thing was like nothing he had ever seen before. A little furry man, dressed in a suit. This had to be a joke, but any sense of anger at being stooged like this was lost in the bewilderment and wonder that came with seeing such a creature in the first place. It walked, talked, and could read. If it was a pet than it was the fucking coolest pet he had ever seen. He wanted one. He would dress it in a slick leather vest, give him a blaster, and they would have adventures together. He'd need a cool name, like Lil' Slasher, or Hobnob The Fur Goblin.

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook took up a stylus and began jotting down a note. "Immediate disrespect for direct authority," he muttered, then looked up at the blank visage of Abaddon's helmet, unimpressed.

"I am your Hunt Master," he clarified. "My name is Hung Lo. You may refer to me as Hunt Master Lo, or Mr. Lo. We are not on a first-name basis." Another glance down at his clipboard. Fook was wasting time, intentionally dragging things out. He could have simply walked in with a heavy stun blaster and slammed his target against the opposite wall, but where was the fun in that? Besides, if Abaddon had truly applied, and been rejected, nine times before, the Wah wanted to know what made him tick.

"I see you use a Lastech V2," he nodded toward the rifle so conspicuously displayed. "I prefer the recoil compensation and the improved power cell efficiency of the V4, myself, but I realize that an independent bounty hunter like yourself cannot always upgrade to the latest model. Or the one before that. You are aware that we offer a weaponry lease program, here at the Guild, I presume, Mr. Abbeton? Should you pass this interview, I'll be sure to get you the brochure with all the relevant details. We even offer arms and armor upgrade services, at a nominal fee, of course, depending on your tier of membership."

Pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his muzzle, Fook eyed the armored man across the table from him with only mild interest. "For that matter, would you care to walk me through your current loadout? All this you've got on, that is," he pointed with a lazy circle of his stylus. "Your level of equipment is naturally factored into what jobs will become available to you, naturally. While we offer insurance packages, a number of factors care calculated into that algorithm, as is your past experience, and your skill level - which we will test, here, naturally."

Every word was calculated, each one had meaning and purpose, Fook carefully observing from behind a mask of bored indifference. Please, tell me everything about your equipment, sucka, and what you suck at, so I know just how to take your punk-ass down, ran through his mind as he tapped at his flimsi, briefcase still closed on the tabletop.

[Codename: Abaddon]

"Woah, woah. That's only based on the manufacturer's specs. Users haven't posted any benchmarks yet to prove if the manufacturer's claims are true. I'm waiting on some solid reviews before I go dropping that kind of mad dosh. In the meantime the V2 is the way to go, bro. Forget about the V3, that thing is designed for the general public and an attempt to please all the blaster control moms complaining about the raw firepower of the V2. It's a bunch of bullshit. Besides, it's not like I can't mod the shit out of this thang. There's a guy on the 'net that boosted the beam intensity by twelve percent by removing the inner containment shell. So long as you have a heat monitor smart link you don't gotta worry about the thing overheating and exploding in your hand. Only newbs would let that happen."

The subject changed in a whirl, with all thoughts of the previous train of thought immediately unhooked and jettisoned out an airlock as everything switched to a much more preferred subject. Blasters.

"So I gots the Hadron Destoyer, obviously. I also have a DL-44. Heavily modified, as you can see. Had a friend zoop this one up. Bigger pack, more vents, and an extended barrrel with a beam optimizer. Less fire but it does eats armor. I also have this beaut, A310. I had it cut down. More of a carbine this way. I already have all the firepower I need from the Hadron Destoyer. This one is for when your on the move. It's good for that running and gunning."

Each weapon was set down on the table between them one at a time. With the exception of the Hadron Destoyer, the other two were obviously heavily modified to the point of barely resembling their original forms. They had been repainted with blacks and reds.

"I also have some throwables. You know, grenades and knives and stuff. Nothing too fancy. I prefer a straight fight anyways. I have a lot more gear back on the ship. Net launchers, stun grenades, and that sort of thing. If you really like this sort of thing, I even have a disintegration rifle. I don't use it for hunts, duh, but it's super fun to shoot. Really satisfying. Like BOOSH TSSSSSSSSS. And yeah, I know about all those perks. That's why I'm trying to join, homes. I mean, I want to be a legit hunter too but still, them perks are pretty royal, you know what I'm saying?"