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Apr. 17th, 2007 10:03 pmAtton was only mildly surprised when he found someone waiting at the landing pad for him, a skittish looking Rodian who seemed very much like he’d rather be anywhere else but on that landing pad.
They didn’t talk much. With a shrill, unintelligible gibber, the Rodian thrust a datapad into Atton’s hands. Atton glanced at it, scanning it over quickly and sighing.
More anonymous notes, more commands for him to go places. With a vague shrug, Atton set off for the other side of the sector.
-----
Atton could see why anyone setting up a trap would want to use that particular cargo bay. The room was wide, badly lit by a few flickering lights and a couple of tanks of glowing gas. Atton cocked his head slightly, taking a moment to listen properly, over his own footsteps, and the thrumming of the gas tanks.
There was a soft thud, and another. If he listened carefully enough, they became clear, the sound of footsteps, made by people trained to be as quiet as possible.
Something shimmered out of the corner of his eye. A vague shape. Then another, and another. He was surrounded. The hazes shimmered, briefly, the lights went out. They’d realised that he knew they were there. Without any lights, it was almost impossible to see through the stealth fields, and it was practically impossible to smell anything over the choking, noxious fumes that came from the gas tanks.
Something whistled through the air. Eight stealth fields disengaged with a grating crackle and a momentary flare of static. Atton grinned maniacally.
-----
When the lights came back on, Atton knelt to look at the bodies. They were bizarre, at best - Once he removed the cloth covering most of their faces, he could see that they were mutilated.
Each one had curving, symmetrical patterns, almost as wide as his finger, carved into their skin. They didn’t look like they’d healed, properly - They looked, instead, like they’d been deliberately aggravated and altered, somehow, so that they became dark red and bulbous, lumpy and stark against the rest of their skin - Each one of them was pale, almost silvery grey.
Atton peered at their faces closely. Each of their left eyes were glowing, bright, glaring red. He plucked one of them out, watching as the light went out and holding it up. There were wires dangling off it, and when he turned it around, Aurebesh lettering carved into the back of the glass (of some variety), detailing the name and address of the supplier.
He smirked, faintly, and after giving it a quick wipe with the corner of his shirt, tucked it into his pocket.
They didn’t talk much. With a shrill, unintelligible gibber, the Rodian thrust a datapad into Atton’s hands. Atton glanced at it, scanning it over quickly and sighing.
More anonymous notes, more commands for him to go places. With a vague shrug, Atton set off for the other side of the sector.
-----
Atton could see why anyone setting up a trap would want to use that particular cargo bay. The room was wide, badly lit by a few flickering lights and a couple of tanks of glowing gas. Atton cocked his head slightly, taking a moment to listen properly, over his own footsteps, and the thrumming of the gas tanks.
There was a soft thud, and another. If he listened carefully enough, they became clear, the sound of footsteps, made by people trained to be as quiet as possible.
Something shimmered out of the corner of his eye. A vague shape. Then another, and another. He was surrounded. The hazes shimmered, briefly, the lights went out. They’d realised that he knew they were there. Without any lights, it was almost impossible to see through the stealth fields, and it was practically impossible to smell anything over the choking, noxious fumes that came from the gas tanks.
Something whistled through the air. Eight stealth fields disengaged with a grating crackle and a momentary flare of static. Atton grinned maniacally.
-----
When the lights came back on, Atton knelt to look at the bodies. They were bizarre, at best - Once he removed the cloth covering most of their faces, he could see that they were mutilated.
Each one had curving, symmetrical patterns, almost as wide as his finger, carved into their skin. They didn’t look like they’d healed, properly - They looked, instead, like they’d been deliberately aggravated and altered, somehow, so that they became dark red and bulbous, lumpy and stark against the rest of their skin - Each one of them was pale, almost silvery grey.
Atton peered at their faces closely. Each of their left eyes were glowing, bright, glaring red. He plucked one of them out, watching as the light went out and holding it up. There were wires dangling off it, and when he turned it around, Aurebesh lettering carved into the back of the glass (of some variety), detailing the name and address of the supplier.
He smirked, faintly, and after giving it a quick wipe with the corner of his shirt, tucked it into his pocket.
