"Sorava, you shouldn't overeat so much."
-Elder Saleria
Tuesday, May 31, 2022
Alliason Manriol
Legal Name: Alliason Menrik Manriol
Aliases: Unknown, The Skullbuckle
Sex: Male
Species: Human
Age: 35
Place of Birth: Haradia VI
Legal Status: Citizen of Alpha Republic (deceased)
Occupation: Cartel member, philosopher, dictator
Allegiance: Albanto Paslik, Unknown in alternate timeline
Height: 5’9”
Weight: 180 lb.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Marital Status: Single
Known Relatives: N/A
Vehicles of Choice: N/A
Weapons of Choice: N/A
Creator: Pyrodox
Voiceclaim: TBD
A native of Republic Core World Haradia VI, Manriol was a relatively unimpressive human male. It is conjectured that he was an acquaintance of infamous drug lord Albanto Paslik since their days in school. He acted as a hanger-on to Paslik as well as an apprentice to the latter's science officer, Henrol Amarag. This, along with his educational background imparted a utilitarian viewpoint onto the young man.
Manriol remained an obsequious underling to Paslik for years until a raid on their cartel by Rebecca Mallory and Pyrodox resulted in their demise. Before his death at the hands of Pyrodox, Manriol abandoned his master in a desperate attempt to save his own skin. Having been cornered by Mallory, Pyrodox gave her what was left of Manriol’s body: a skull. Unfortunately, she was unable to cash in on the bounty as the tissue was found to be over 4,000 years old. Pyrodox then reclaimed the aged token and sent it back in time using an artifact on planet Omiron, keeping the fresh skull for himself. He revealed to Mallory that in his youth he had gotten a message from his own future informing him that it was his destiny to kill this man. Pyrodox used the old skull as a signature belt buckle and exchanged it for the fresh one after the events of Coroba. [1]
It is unclear how many cycles this time loop had gone through, and it is unknown, even to Pyrodox how Manriol’s life played out during the prime timeline. Pyrodox is aware of the skull’s age beforehand, and himself disagrees with Pyrodox Prime’s decision to alter the past by sending the first message to his past self, but he felt duty-bound to keep the current loop active.
It’s implied that Manriol Prime had later in life broke free of his adherence to Albanto and, with the knowledge gained from his apprenticeship under Amarag, bedame an infamous dictator whose reign resulted in the slaughter of countless innocents, thus warranting his bounty in the first place. When Zucca Xerfantes performed a psychic scan of Coroba, he found anomalies from many of its residents, suggesting that these are lives who would have been dead by then in the prime timeline if not for Pyrodox's actions. [1]. In current timeline's however, he died a relative nobody.
STRENGTHS:
Intelligent: Manriol is well-educated in philosophy and also science, thanks to his apprenticeship under Amarag. He possesses political savvy to spot opportunities to thrive in positions of subservience and power.
Charismatic: Manriol is able to talk his way into positions of comfort under people like Paslik, and was able to sway many people to gain power as a dictator in his prime timeline.
WEAKNESSES:
Cowardly: Manriol flees from physical confrontation and will only take a position if it is socially safe to do so. He did not hesitate to abandon Albanto when the latter was under attack by Pyrodox.
Weak: Manriol possesses almost no strength or fight skills to speak of.
POWER GRID
Intelligence | nnnnn |
Charisma | nnnnn |
Strength | nnnnn |
Speed | nnnnn |
Durability | nnnnn |
Combat Skills | nnnnn |
BEHIND THE SCENES
Bio by Pyrodox
Image by Pyrodox
Grid Average: 2.4
[1] "The Loop"
In most pictures of Pyrodox, Manriol’s skull depicted as expressive and, for obvious reasons, usually in great discomfort. The Skullbuckle’s expressiveness and cognizance is intended to be non-diegetic, although there are some continuities in which this may not be the case.
Elder Saleria
Legal Name: Saleria
Aliases: None
Sex: Male
Species: Reptoia (cyborg)
Age: 48
Place of Birth: Reptois (?)
Legal Status: Member of Church of Revenance
Occupation: Priest
Allegiance: Church of Revenance
Height: 3’8”
Weight: 60 lb.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Marital Status: Single
Known Relatives: N/A
Vehicles of Choice: N/A
Weapons of Choice: N/A
Creator: Pyrodox
Voiceclaim: Kelsey Grammer
Elder Saleria presumably hails from Reptois and is a member of its native race of dimunitive lizard-like sapients. Little is known about his origins other than at one point in his youth he was involved in a grisly incident which disfigured him and left him dependent on extensive cybernetics for survival. At some point he was inducted into the priesthood of the Church of Revenance, where he displayed an aptitude and enthusiasm for studying history and philosophy.
An honest cleric, he was often exploited by his more corrupt and ambitious superiors. Saleria finds himself saddled with tasks beneath his dignity or above his authority, but he usually fulfills them dutifully, albeit with some level of snark.
Not completely willingly, he is assigned as a personal confessor to a few Ministers, beings who serve as spies and assassins for the Church, most prominently Pyrodox and Sorova. In addition to being a difficult and unstable patient to work with, Pyrodox has a decidedly keen at sensing dishonesty, so obviously this dirty work is left to one dutiful enough to stick with it. Throughout the years, Saleria has formed a mutual respect with his wayward and sometimes insecure patient. Sorova also seems to be a good match, being very honest and faithful in her own right, although Saleria finds her a bit overly enthusiastic in her work and wishes she would not overeat as much. He was also briefly considered to be a confessor to Damien Dove, but he found him far too fanatical, and recommended he be removed from Ministerial duties.
One unexpected assignment that Saleria took well to was the management of an orphanage in one of the Alpha Republics’s rim worlds. He was very satisfied by the prospect of helping poor children, and was beginning to break out of his introverted shell. Unfortunately, this project was cancelled due to the alleged scandals brought about by Wendell Roussimoff, who had just landed a job as a prominent pundit and “journalist” at a major media channel. As a result, the usually calm and peaceful priest harbored a burning hatred for Roussimouff, at one point culminating in a “fight” which could only be called such due to the subjectivity of its participants. The experience caused Saleria to retreat back into studies on the Church’s secret homeworld, where he still provides counsel to Pyrodox and Sorava and, whenever possible, working on his writing.
STRENGTHS
- Intelligent: Saleria is well-versed in Church history and philosophy, even working to contribute to some of it himself. He can read others very well, and can predict their actions, which is why he can match and exceed people like Pyrodox and Zucca in games of wit. He can be very eloquent at times, even when he is frustrated. He can be very persuasive to people with an open mind.
- Honest: Saleria is nearly incorruptible and has a strong moral code which he rarely breaks.
- Stoic: Saleria believes that he should endure hardship as much as possible. His past disfigurement offers little to no permanent trauma and he tends to find the bright side in many things. We is likely to avoid violence whenever possible.
WEAKNESSES:
- Physically Weak: Due to his size and past injuries, Saleria is very weak and has next to no fighting skill. His closest semblance to martial competence appeared during a fight which Roussimoff, in which he was at least able to keep the latter from fatally pulling his neck tubing. Then again, that could be more of a testament to Roussimoff’s own incompetence.
- Push-over: Saleria takes his stoicism too far sometimes and is easily exploited by more corrupt clerics. Pyrodox and sometimes Sorova attempt to advise him to stand up for himself sometimes.
- Occasional Temper: While mostly calm, Saleria can lose his temper and will often express his self-pity through snark. Wendell Roussimoff, however, is the only person who seems to have angered him to violence so far.
POWER GRID:
Intelligence | nnnnn |
Charisma | nnnnn |
Strength | nnnnn |
Speed | nnnnn |
Durability | nnnnn |
Combat Skills | nnnnn |
CITATIONS/BEHIND THE SCENES
Bio by Pyrodox
Image by Pyrodox
Grid Average: 2.17
Sunday, May 15, 2022
Species
SAPIENT
DRAGON
HUMAN
CONGLOMERATE
RATHI
Aries Passadar (wolf)
Wendell Roussimoff (dog - poodle)
Doc Mallory (ferret/fox)
Sorova Roussimoff (snake)
REPTOIA
NON-SAPIENT
The Loop - Part 3
“What a waste,” Mallory grumbled as she made away from Lomoll’s complex, so frustrated she did not notice a slight glitch in her instrumentation. Apparently, the dragon was right; she might be able to sell the trinket to some museum. Something was still not quite right about this, though. The DNA test had to mean something. Perhaps a better, more trustworthy scientist from the Mercenary Guild could give her some answers. There was no way this millennia-old artifact could possess living genetic code to the specific extant that it did. Unless…
Suddenly, a silver wedge cut in front of her with a demonic shriek. Almost immediately she realized how a ship could evade her sensors without making everything in her scopes disappear: a Jam-veil. Designed to simulate normal ship traffic, it had to be planted beforehand on an unsuspecting vessel that was to have its sensors jammed. That insane charge in the courier ship. That’s when he planted it.
Unlike the humble little craft she previously encountered, this one was a match for hers. It viciously pursued her with automatic laserfire, hitting her enough chew away at her shields and slow her engines down. Presumably the rapid fire was a psychological move. She had trouble shaking the sleek ship, but she managed to get enough of a glimpse to identify its model: a Sigil Industries Ermine-class light yacht. Looks like she’s had some work done, too. No doubt he must have had the faulty transdrive replaced on it.
Had she not been taken by surprise, Mallory might have put up an even fight, but eventually a couple ion bolts nearly disabled her ship, forcing her to the ground. The Ermine landed fast enough to rob her of any time to mount a ground defense. By the time Mallory had unbuckled herself, her foe had already blown a whole in the main cargo hatch, and she heard abdominal stretch of a dragon’s preparing to breathe fire. As the main hold was filled with flame, she was forced to pop her canopy open, provoking some suppressing fire from its port side, and jump out on her starboard. Unfortunately, the dragon was suspecting this move as if he had intentionally cornered her into it. His axe-like tail hooked onto her feet on the way down, and he flipped her dismissively onto the soil. She attempted to get up and despite a strained wrist, but the brute disarmed her with his tail, knocked the air out of her with a kick, and checked her against her ship. He then propped her up against the hull and began to smother her with his massive stomach. Mallory had no hope of breaking out of this; in desperation she bit at the rolls of fat that threatened to engulf her face.
“OW! Dammit!” Pyrodox yelled as he reeled back. What a wuss. After all I went through and a little nip gets a reaction from h- Mallory screamed in pain herself as the dragon kicked her leg in rage and pinned her against the hull more dramatically than last time as his little arms flailed impotently at her. Soon enough, he regained his composure and calmly put pressure on Mallory’s neck until she lost consciousness. Mallory woke up with a splint on her leg and a bundle of credits for her troubles. She was just in time to watch the bulbous stern of the Ermine disappear into the sky. The skull was gone.
There was one way someone could have pulled that trick with the skull. Mallory’s uncle knew of a long-forgotten, ancient shrine on a distant planet. He had shown it once to her and her adoptive father. Armos T’Coan. The Well of Time. But how could anyone else in the galaxy know of it? Let alone without her uncle’s knowing? Unfortunately, those two were busy on some sort of timeline related…thing. No matter. She just wanted to make sure of something. And she didn’t want to risk letting her association with them get found out.
Orimon was a distant planet that few people ever visited. No remaining civilization tended to its ruins. Most likely whoever lived here had somehow gone extinct before mastering space travel. Mallory entered its icy caves and proceeded down one of the paths she was sure a dragon would not be able to fit through. She eventually found the medium sized room, decorated with deteriorated stone arches and housing a stone font. She was about to case the area when a deep drawl saved her the trouble.
“I was wondering if you would find yourself here,” said Pyrodox as he emerged from one of the larger doorways. He was now wearing a skull identical to the relic, albeit fresher-looking. “Don’t bother with your weapon. I have no quarrel with you, girl.”
“You broke my leg, damaged my ship, and took my bounty.”
“So much aggression. I was only lovingly witnessing to you about how I am not one to be fucked with.”
“You set up my comrades for death.”
“Please. I thought I made clear to you that my only sin against them was flattery.”
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“No, it belongs to me. And it always has. You see this skull in some ways has always been my destiny…”
“Why Manriol? Why him of all people?”
“You know, I don’t really know myself.” Pyrodox looked up for second. “Well, I might have known…once upon a time. Perhaps he was destined for bigger things himself.” Considering Manriol’s “philosophy” it was probably good that these “bigger things” would never come to fruition. The dragon looked pensive and advanced toward the Well. “You know, I would destroy this occult abomination if I could.” He sighed, looking distracted in a way that Mallory knew better than to trust. “All I know….is that when I was a young boy…I received that skull as gift. With it was a single message:
This is Alliason Menrik Manriol of Haradia VI.
Born 458379.
You will kill him. You will be feared.
It assured me that one day I would make a name for myself. That this man’s death… was my destiny.
“The funny thing is…we’re all slaves to some design beyond our own. Even our choices are part of it. Maybe the first time around I was arrogant enough to think I could change my past with this message. But life…and my family…had other plans for me. Plans that didn’t work. It took forever to find my place, to make a difference. But the whole time I knew that I had to find him, and I had to send him back. Because that’s the way it always was for me.”
How many times had he sent that skull back in time to himself? How did it happen the first time? He had no way of knowing exactly who he was then.
“And now I no longer have to worry about what I knew was already written for me. Well, at least I-I don’t have to worry about it. And now I’m free.” He then looked directly at Mallory. “I suppose we’re both free to fight over this. But I’m warning you. As I said before, I am sentimental.”
Mallory could see him tense for battle. She suspected that this was not worth her trouble. “I have other jobs to deal with. I trust they’re not sentimental enough for you to get your fat ass involved.”
“Depends, what kind of jobs?”
“None of your business.”
“You already told me much of your business simply by coming here,” he responded as they began to part ways. “Oh, and by the way…tell The Traveler I said ‘Hello.’”
Mallory discussed the matter with her uncle when he was available. Amazingly, he had never heard of this Pyrodox. In the following months he scouted Coroba, sensing temporal anomalies surrounding many of its inhabitants, regular people who originally should not still be alive. A new religion was beginning to take root among the populace…
An elegant silver space yacht penetrated the labyrinthine space storm and arrived at the dark, mysterious planet hidden inside. It flew into its perpetually stormy atmosphere and landed in the hangar of a large, monolithic temple which was adorned with ornate reliefs, most of them skeletal in nature.
Elder Saleria greeted the dragon as he disembarked from the vessel, knowing that this particularly troubled disciple would have some sins to confess. He would secretly prefer to be left alone with his studies and translations, but he dutifully carried out the role of Confessor and guide to this particular layman. It wasn’t too subtle that the other elders took advantage of his meekness to saddle him with a problem child, but all the sheep need guidance.
The dragon looked down at the slight figure garbed in a robe and skull mask. “The situation on Coroba is proceeding as planned, Elder. I trust that the donations of the Faithful have spurred missionary work in the area?”
“They have, my child, though I trust you weren’t too dishonorable in your way of going about it?”
“That’s something I might need to talk to you about.”
“I see. I’m not comfortable myself with this nation-building, either, brother Wynfrith.”
“Especially considering the UGA’s recent track record.”
“Yes, yes…”
Pyrodox was not comfortable with the Church of the Skull’s doing anything that could be mistaken for the UGA’s policies, but they had to start somewhere. He walked toward the sanctuary with the priest who had become his trusted mentor. “You know, I think I’m starting to make progress on some of your advice, Elder.”
“Hm?”
“I think I started making friends today.”
The Loop - Part 2
“Of course,” Paslik continued, “since you have expressed such interest in me, it’s only fair that you introduce yourself.”
“Maybe Nolan can tell you. Wait, where did he get off to?” Mallory looked around in mock confusion.
“Don’t be cute.”
Mallory generally saw no harm in using her professional name publicly. ‘I go by “Squire.”’
“Well…Squire…looks like you’ll never make knight.” Paslik’s cronies pretended that was funny.
“I suppose n-“
The conversation was cut short by a loud bang, which shook the building and almost immediately knocked the power out. Mallory could hear Paslik and his minions’ being rushed out of the room. She couldn’t help but notice that Manriol ran to the exit by himself with more impressive reflexes than the others.
“Turn on the backup generator!” Paslik cried.
“That was the backup generator!” Crannol answered.
Amid the confusion Mallory overpowered the two guards restraining her and followed her quarry through the darkness, but she was too late to keep a track of them. More sporadic laserfire followed by that all-too-familiar eye of the hurricane. Guards rushed past taking no more action against her than an occasional potshot. This must be bad. Mallory had a feeling that flight was the best option, but there was no way she was forfeiting this bounty. Not after all that work.
She followed the chaos to a large room. Flickering lights and smoke added to the dread. A chorus of frightening chatter swelled up into screams of terror. Gunshots rang out. A few guards ran out of a dark passage, too panicked to attack her. One even screamed “Run!” At her. She was about to enter the ominous corridor when she noticed a rapidly brightening cerulean glow from around a corner. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively dove out of the way just in time to avoid a massive fireball.
Something flew out of the smoke toward a developing phalanx of newly-arrived guards, hitting one of them and inspiring perturbed babbling from his friends. Mallory glanced at the offending debris only for eyes to meet Nolan’s. She had a feeling she’d meet him again sometime. She has half right. In the next instant another massive jet of blue flame shot out toward the group, burning some and scattering the rest, some of whom were picked off by frighteningly accurate laser fire. The flames had not yet dissipated when out from them burst the fattest (male) dragon Mallory had ever seen. He was dark slate with long black hair and his massive stomach was encircled by a spiked belt with a skull on it. She ducked out of from the sights of his pistol before he sent a bolt down her way. Vemesol S89, she observed as the bright blue beam exploded nearby. Matches the belly. He immediately attempted to bring his axe-like tail down on her, but she dodged and found concealment far enough away for him to downgrade her in this threat assessment. The dragon continued to massacre the guards who remained foolish enough to confront him. She observed that he wasn’t terribly agile, but he could make good use of his bulk and short-distance burst speed. Being covered in fangs and spikes helps, too. She tried to take advantage of the fight to rush across into the hallway leading to Paslik’s panic room, but was knocked aside by her competitor’s wall of flesh. After finishing off the last of the guards, the dragon turned his gun on her as she returned the gesture. Mallory knew the only way she could quickly neutralize her ventripotent foe was a headshot; the layers of fat surrounding his body, much to her awe, actually were thick enough to stop small arms fire. Meanwhile he had the advantage of her whole body. “You know,” she smiled nervously, “How about I just go after Manriol, and yyyyyou can get the rest…”
The dragon’s face dropped with the exception of his widened eyes. Before Mallory could get a word in edgewise, he turned away and moved with surprising celerity toward Manriol’s private quarters. She blinked in confusion for a second and then ran off to the panic room. There she found inches worth of transparent synthesteel separating her from her bounty. Virtually indestructible to any substance this side of the UGA. No doubt it was self-contained and could only be opened from the inside. There was no way she could get in.
“You should leave,” Paslik told her through an intercom. “Reinforcements should be on the way.”
“You’re right.” The least Mallory could do was wait for the dragon to arrive for a second opinion on the door.
“You and your friends set this up real well, didn’t you?”
‘Didn’t seem to work out for most of those “friends,” didn’t it. Besides, I don’t even know the guy.’
“You’ll pay for this,” Paslik snarled. “You cost me millions of repairs and manpower. Not to mention by best employee.” Crannol spread his arms at this.
“Not to mention your best friend. I saw the way Manriol ran off. How does that make you feel?”
Paslik glared at her for a second then looked past her. “Better that about that, I suppose.” Mallory turned her head to find the dragon squeezing into the room with Manriol’s body in tow. Scowling, he walked up to the portal and growled.
“So, big guy, you got a solution to this?” Mallory spoke at the same time as Paslik was reciting some prepared speech about how the shield was indestructible and how his cavalry was coming. The dragon ignored them and carefully scanned the edges of the vault door. Then, after a strenuous snorting sound, coughed up a medium-sized container. “You set us up, didn’t you?” she accused as he concentrated on unlocking it.
“Actually, I was expecting much better out of you people,” he answered with a rather intimidating baritone. He then produced a large limpid mine and stuck it onto the synthesteel wall. He adjusted the timer and armed it.
“Excuse me, did you listen to a single word I just said?” Paslik said (“No,” the dragon replied over him). “This vault is bomb-proof! You won’t be able to collect any bounty on us, you corpulent buffoon!” The mogul’s face dropped when a distinctive whine began to emanate from the bomb.
The dragon looked back at him and with a bored expression. “I’m not interested in your bounty.” He picked up Manriol’s body and strode out of the room as the whine loudened and everyone inside the vault began to scream. It was a Neutron Separator. Who the hell has that kind of hardware? Mallory desperately wanted to disarm the device, but she couldn’t recognize any of the controls or machinery once she cracked the outer shell. She had to get out of there, and fast. She was fortunate enough to find an airship in one of the hangars.
As the compound exploded on her six, she figured that, with the extra speed of her personal ship, she had enough time to acquire it and then intercept the dragon at Paslik’s nearest secondary airbase. She arrived at that area just in time to track a beaten-up Komdu Aetheria-Class light courier taking off from the nearby citiport.
“Aetheria-Class light courier. This is Bounty Hunter ID 446633254. Immediately request that you land and submit yourself to a search.” The small maroon ship hesitated for a second and then careened into the clouds. He must be insane if he thinks he can escape me in that thing. She followed the surprisingly humble craft into a nearby canyon, where she lost track it of it. Suddenly her sensors picked up a contact charging from her in the mist. He is insane. Thanks to lightning reflexes, she barely escaped her opponent’s insane suicide charge. The cockpit readout chirped to inform her that the courier had passed close enough to momentarily encroach on her shields. Crazy. She continued after the little ship, which was unable to outmaneuver hers. After enough disabling shots to the propulsion system and shields, the Aetheria was finally willing to accept defeat and land.
Mallory kept her assault laser trained on the craft’s entrance as she approached it. When the rearward hatch opened, she saw that the dragon was crammed so tight into its little cargo hold he had no room to move sideways. His decidedly skinny upper body looked pathetic in comparison. He could still breathe fire, though. “I want my bounty, dragon,” she told him. “Or what’s left of it.”
“You mean this?” He produced a skull. “I was going to keep it, for…sentimental reasons…” He enunciated words with an almost forced precision, but his deep voice still possessed a recognizable drawl from the A3 Quadrant. An indicator was the drawn-out r’s, as if the “r” sound was so heavy that it dropped from the Northern Quadrant and sunk into some placed in the Southern Quadrant of the Galaxy. “Don’t worry. It’s him. A DNA test will confirm that.”
Mallory caught the trophy when it was tossed to her. She quickly checked it with her OmniScan without looking down. He was not lying.
“Now that you have what you want. I trust you’ll stay put until I leave.”
“Who are you?”
“Pyrodox.”
“What did you want from Manriol of all people?”
“Like I said, I’m sentimental. Goodbye.” His massive stomach knocked her off her feet. He was sucking it in the whole time? He then quickly retreated into his ship and activated an autopilot take-off. “I’m sure you’ll get a good price for it!” he shouted as the hatch closed. Mallory watched as he escaped out of the atmosphere. She looked down at the skull in her hand. At least the day wasn’t a total loss.
Lomoll was a rich man, but not enough to truly afford the job that he commissioned Mallory and her team to do. He did, however, have access to a rather high-end lab. It was this lab that was studying what was left of Manriol. Sometimes I wish these clients would just take my word for it. Mallory waited in the man’s atrium, wanting to admire the architecture but keeping vigil lest fatboy show up to touch base with the object of his apparent charity. Eventually, Lomoll entered with his chief scientist. “It’s about time,” she grumbled.
“An interesting find you have here…” he said.
“And…?”
“Look I’m sorry for what happened to you and your team, but you can’t just give me anyone’s skull and call it a day.”
Mallory was dumbstruck for a second. Could nothing on this day possibly go right? “Excuse me? That’s Manriol, I know it. I did a DNA Test on it. Are OmniScans not reliable?”
“They are,” replied the scientist. “They can even pick up fragments. Which is all this skull had left. And there might be some similarities, relation-wise.”
“How can that be be? If it has his DNA, it has his DNA! It must be him!”
“Miss Squire…” the scientist replied. “This can’t possibly be Alliason Manriol. We did a carbon test. This skull is at least 4,000 years old.”
The Loop - Part 1
by Pyrodox
CHARACTERS
Squire, Pyrodox, Saleria, Manriol, Paslik
The industrial planet of Coroba was seemingly covered in a blanket of rust. Its heavily polluted clouds reduced the sun to a solid gray disc that barely illuminated the metallic landscape. Mallory certainly did not enjoy visiting planets such as this, but this was a particularly lucrative assignment. Not only that, the targets were particularly vile pieces of work, and job satisfaction was important to her.
Dominic Paslik was a truly abominable man. Leader of the Coroban Mining Guild, he had practically enslaved the small planet’s population for its resources. Of course, the low-cost ores produced by this depressing world were lucrative enough for the United Galactic Alliance to turn a blind eye its abuses; in fact, one would think twice before questioning that apathy. Mallory didn’t believe killing Paslik and his minions would accomplish all that much, but it was certainly an appealing prospect to serve some justice. Perhaps these people might even have a chance to take their home back.
Something caught the attention of her heightened sense of smell. Hidden in the stench and filth of the smog something else was burning, something more natural. An incense of some unidentified type. She followed it, rounding a corner in one of Coroba’s jungles of ruined concrete to find a mysterious cairn dug into the earthen floor of what was once a room. Rising from a smoldering pot with the smoke was a wooden stake.
With a skull mounted at its apex.
Chains were draped down from its chapless maw, chains that each ended in a cruel hook.
“Lovely,” Mallory muttered before she put some thought into it and more appropriately added, “Charming.” She began to cross the oddly interminable stretch of ground to get a closer look at it. At the very least she should collect a sample of the strange incense that had stimulated her in the first place. And yet, she was beginning to feel unusually disturbed by the experience, like she was being watched. The room framed the skull perfectly, with tangled rebar seeming to point to it like demonic tentacles. There was no apparent threat, but she had learned to trust her instincts. She decided not to waste too much time casing the area since she had work to do. At least that’s what she like to think that’s what her reason was.
Having scouted the area, Mallory reported back to the safe house with the other mercenaries who had accepted the job. It was a daunting task and it had a surprisingly appropriate number of people working on it, including a small PMC with dropships and everything. She wondered who had managed to raise enough money to finance such a task. The Coroban refugee who was the contact certainly had the motive, but no apparent means other than anonymous benefactors.
She sat down with the others and discussed the plan of attack. With the reconnaissance of herself and a few of the more experienced operators, as well as help from a local police chief, they had a detailed layout of the grounds surrounding Paslik’s compound, as well as those of his accomplices. Mallory of course was assigned to the former, along with the PMC’s largest force. In addition to infantry tactics, the plan included light air support. It was a risky job, but it seemed like it could work. She reviewed the files of the targets that her team would be focusing on:
PASLIK, DOMINIC ALBANTO
Human Male, 46
Homeworld: Haradia VI
Education: Business Certification A, Haradia University
Military Experience: N/A
Entrepeneur. Cartel Lord. Criminal Record includes extortion, fraud. Head of the Coroban Mining Guild.
GORODA, ALLO
Heiscian Female, 34
Homeworld: Heiscian
Education: Business Certification A, The Raman School
Military Experience: N/A
Paslik’s second-in-command and chief advisor. Rumored to be his mistress as well.
CRANNOL
Coroban Male, 40
Homeworld: Coroba
Education: Unit 41 Primary Educational Facility, Coroba
Military Experience: Coroban Militia, Major
Paslik’s Chief of Security
AMARAG, HENROL
Human Male, 50
Homeworld: Centrala IV
Education: Biology Doctor’s Certification, The Central Institute
Military Experience: N/A
Personal Doctor and scientist to Paslik. Reported to perform experiments on Coroban natives, with the resultant research being sold for a profit by the Guild
MANRIOL, ALLIASON MENRIK
Human Male, 35
Homeworld: Haradia VI
Education: Sociology Certification A, Haradia University
Militar Experience: N/A
Friend and hanger-on to Paslik.
NOLAN, EMMIS
XX (Chameleon) Male, 40
Homeworld: [Redacted]
Education: History Certification C, Aslia Academy
Military Experience: Aslian Special Forces, O-3. Experience in Aslian Civil War as well as numerous [redacted] independent operations.
Each of these men’s heads was going for at least 10,000 credits. Mallory decided to retire to bed for some much-needed rest in preparation for the operation, but she had to ask the police chief a question.
“Chief Canas, I would like to discuss something.”
“Yes?” he replied disinterestedly.
“I found something in the urban ruins in sector five today. It was a post, with a skull and chains hanging from the skull. There was incense coming from it.”
“Oh,” he rounded his eyes, “Just some new cult springing up in some circles. We think it might be some sort of expression of rebellion. Nutty human sacrifice stuff or something.”
Like the place doesn’t already have plenty of that thanks to Amarag. “I couldn’t find any precedent for it in Coroban history. And the incense is not found on any records.”
“We’re trying to look into it. Pay it no mind. Just a few desperate savages.”
A few desperate savages. One would not be wise to underestimate a population’s desperation. And Mallory certainly did not want to underestimate the feeling she got from that spot.
The moonless night was perfect for the operation. A few clandestine throat-cuttings (if one was unable to avoid it), and everyone was in position. Mallory’s genetic enhancements, as well as her species, gave her a natural edge in this environment. They all knew that the compound would have the most advanced defense systems available to any private entity. Even the surplus aircraft would give the PMC a run for its money if things got messy. Now was the moment of truth.
Mallory had reached and secured the primary security office with some of the more skilled mercs, and set a time-released deactivator on the compound’s sensor and shield arrays. After clearing out of the indefensible room, assumed cover and waited the for the moment that the sabotage would come into effect. Everybody knew that the back-up systems would be activated within a minute, but that was long enough for the PMC’s AT-120 dropships to insert the cavalry.
When the alarm went off, security personnel predictably rushed to station, only to be ambushed by Mallory and Co. Within a minute the firefight had begun in earnest. Expensive wood splintered into the atmosphere, which was already thickening from the smoke and damaged lighting. Mallory and her partners were making progress toward the targets’ private quarters. Proof of Death, that was the contract. Well, one of the targets was apparently saving them some of the footwork on that; Emmis Nolan had decided to meet them in battle.
With two well-aimed shots, Paslik’s top assassin killed Mallory’s partner, Matthias she believed his name was. He seemed like a good enough guy. Fortunately, she took cover just in time for a laser bolt just singe her hair. The sound of frenzied suppressing fire from his weapon alerted her to one of Nolan’s more aggressive techniques. She shifted soon enough to avoid a knife slash around the corner he had just charged up to. She impulsively shoved her pistol to his head. Too close. He swatted it out of her hand with his empty rifle, prompting her to attain some distance. They stared at each other. Mallory knew she couldn’t risk drawing her submachine gun, and Nolan could not be distracted with reloading his gun. She drew her own knife and pointed it. A couple of armored security guards released the tension by showing up with their guns trained on her. With lightning speed Mallory rushed Nolan, locking their knives together while using him as a shield. In the next instant she unholstered his backup weapon and shot the three guards. Before she could close her gun arm around the back of his head, he shoved her away and with inhuman precision reacquired his pistol from her fleeting hand, flipping it into a proper two-handed grip. His knife clattered unnoticed on the ground. Another genetically enhanced. Mallory spun away from the burst of fire he immediately sent her way, finding cover and time to take out her automatic.
Mallory heard the gunshots die out sporadically. There had also been a few explosions from outside the complex, most certainly gunships. Friend’s or foe’s, she didn’t know which.
“It’s over,” Nolan sneered.
“Yeah, but for whom?” Despite her bluster, Mallory could tell something was wrong.
“You know who. You don’t hear any aircraft making extractions, do you? Or any more movement away from the Inner Sanctum? Face it, bitch, you lost.” He shrugged. “We knew exactly how many were in your party. That’s all it took. (“You’re boring me,” Mallory interjected.) Beef up the security accordingly, keep our bosses in the panic room until it allll blew over.” He eyed her smugly. “You were right not to trust Canas, but he knew enough. Sometimes it’s simple math.”
“I’ll have a talk with him.”
“You’re not going to have a talk with anybody except Paslik. But don’t worry, it won’t take too long.”
The squads of security guards that had appeared on all sides of Mallory proved him right. She reluctantly conceded the point, and dropped her weapons. She was escorted into the smoldering corridor. It was strewn with bodies and scorch marks. She eventually found herself in an opulent dining room. Perhaps a little too opulent. A little too many statues, many of them lying haphazardly across the dining table and floor, their red-trimmed coloration clashing tackily with the plain white of their marble counterparts. Paslik, sat at end of the table, glaring at her and sipping wine in apparent obliviousness to the carnage surrounding him. By his side were Dr. Amarag, Crannol, and a decidedly pathetic-looking man she took to be Manriol. One was absent.
“I believe you and your friends have incurred some unexpected expenses.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. You’re just barely making ends meet, and then your car breaks down.”
“I didn’t build an entire corporate empire simply to be taken out by one measly op.”
“We attacked your secondary compounds. Did you throw them under the bus to beef up security here?”
“Those resources can be replaced. I have powerful friends in the UGA.”
“Replaceable. I take it the rumors of Goroda’s being your mistress were exaggerated.”
“I’m a businessman, young lady,” he shrugged. “Every businessman knows that beauty is sometimes a fair sacrifice for profit.” Manriol giggled at this.
An inappropriately staid butler delivered what was no doubt an exquisite meal to the mogul, who thanked him. “Now, we will have to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m not at liberty to reveal my sources.”
“Nevertheless, you will tell me who your client is. This…mess cannot stand.”
Crannol’s beeper went off. Paslik’s head of security held it up and pressed the transmit button. “Yes?”
“Sir, backup is approaching the compound, requesting permission to land.”
“Very well, proceed.”
“That is a bit…early,” Nolan observed uneasily. “How many craft?”
“You can check yourself, if you’re uncomfortable, Nolan.” The chameleon grunted and swiftly left the room. Mallory didn’t want to let on that they should trust his instincts.
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