Dogma Part I: Parts Unknown

Monstrous Daemons hunted the humans with a Slayer in pursuit. Three Hellhounds, all black with matted fur and slobbering jaws giving shrill cries in the cold, Khispari night air. As the colonists fled, screaming for their lives, the sound of gunfire rang out from the forest. With a yelp, one of the hounds went down and collided into a tree.

The other two scattered, attempting to flee from their pursuer rather than continue to chase these humans that had begun to climb the trees in an attempt to escape. As they panted, thinking themselves, safe from the creatures, one returned after making a turn around a massive boulder and clawed its' way up the bark of the tree, growling impatiently to reach the colonists.

Another gunshot signaled the fall of the climbing beast, which landed with a hard thud against the Khispari grass. As the Slayer emerged from the foliage, pistol-drawn, his cat-like, sea-green eyes scanned the area for the last beast, which made its presence known by pouncing upon him. Embedding its teeth into the man's arm, it was surprised to find its teeth did not puncture it.

The arm's sleeve, torn by the creature's teeth, revealed the arm of the Slayer to be made of a strong, sleek metal alloy. Aiming his gun with his left hand at the hound's head, the Slayer fired and blew its brains out of its head and onto nearby flora. He climbed out from under the thick, matted monster and holstered his weapons, looking up at the group huddled in the tree.

The small family looked down at their savior, and when they saw his green, Daemonic eyes, they showed no sign of gratitude. Only fear.

## No Man's Land

The Reach, the wild, wild west of the galaxy known as Aeos, wrought with piracy, slavery, gang strife, and danger. A *Pilgrim*-class transport vessel, the *Miriam*, was making its' way from Serenity Station to the port-city world of Silren, where the passengers of the transport were either bounty hunters delivering "acquisitions", traders hoping to make a fresh start on a prosperous new world, or shady characters looking to get away.

One such character, "Winters", sat at the bar within the transport's lounge area where alien singers and dancers grooved to spicy Zuli-pop on the dance floor. Winters was a white-haired human with sea-green, slitted eyes and a dark longcoat with gloves and combat boots. He stared down at his honey-colored drink, with ice clinking together within, as if watching some distant event unfold within. It was here that his journey would take a turn, for better or worse.

At the other end of the bar sat perhaps one of the most well-known bounty hunters - though most of his jobs would make him an assassin in all but name - in the galaxy, perhaps even beyond, code-named Shade. Without his gear, however, he was free to move about without suspicion, without the weight his reputation forced him to bear daily. Ebony black hair framed his face. His left eye was a slate gray color, his right was covered by an eye patch. He wore a loose-fitting t-shirt and a pair of black jeans, along with black boots. Indeed, he looked like an average person, and sometimes he wished he could be, but the pay was too good to pass up. Besides which, he knew it was his calling. Taking lives came second nature to him, his hands could take anything and create a deadly tool.

He sat in silence, lightly sipping on his drink, always minding how much alcohol he consumed at any moment. Just because the vast majority of the passengers aboard the ship didn’t know a talented killer sat among them didn’t mean there wasn't a few who had more than a hunch. And he could never afford to let his guard down too much.

Winters could smell trouble as if it were sitting in the room with him. Turning quickly in alarm, he caught a glimpse of its source - a lumbering Gisdan tromping through the dance floor alongside two Jhili minions. Gisdani were 7-foot tall, muscular humanoids with thick layers of leathery skin that ranged from brown to green in coloration and four small, beady red eyes. They had no hair on their bodies and three thick, pudgy fingers and toes on each foot. They were known for their strength and often acted as enforcers to gangs or guards at nightclubs.

At the jolly green giant's side were two Jhili, ashen grey, fishy-looking people with spiky protrusions jutting out of their scaly bodies. They had blaster pistols strapped to their hips while the massive monstrosity leading them sported a small shotgun at his back. They moved to the mysterious figure in the corner of the bar, with the Gisdani greeting him with a forceful jab at his shoulder "Oy, fuckface. That's *my* seat."

Winters opted to sip his beverage and stay well out of it. Messing with a Gisdani was generally considered suicide as they could easily bench 4 tons and have been known to crush men's skulls like eggs.

Shade could smell the approaching annoyance long before he was bothered. He cocked his head to the side to face them, staring at the trio that interrupted his drink. He wasn’t keen on being bothered by anyone, let alone someone crude enough to call him fuckface for no reason.“And? Look, buddy...I’m going to warn you once. You do NOT want to start a fight with me, cause two things are going to happen. I’m gonna be pissed and your ass will be in the ER waiting to get patched up.” Despite the hulking size of the Gisdan, his tone was calm, cool, collected. This wasn’t drunken bravado, he knew what he said and he knew he had the skill to back up his words.

If he had one regret, it was having to risk blowing his cover over a petty squabble with a lumbering behemoth and his cronies, all over a seat, but his mood was soured enough as it was. The green giant and his Jhili flunkies were all of two seconds from turning into a perfect stress reliever. “So, what’s it gonna be?” At least nobody could say he didn’t give the trio a chance to walk away from him, to leave him be.

Winters couldn't help but smirk to himself at the kid's words. He had guts, Winters would give him that. The Gisdan growled at the open defiance, warning "You know who I am, punk?! Huh?! I am the scourge of the Reach, Godura! And when I say move, you'd best fucking move!"

The bartender behind the counter was a Felisian girl - a feline humanoid covered with black fur and having bright, yellow eyes. Her head was topped with a pair of cat ears and a feline nose was at the center of her face. Her slender tail shook uncontrollably from being nervous at the nuclear situation, cautioning "Hey, come on guys. There's plenty of other stools in here-"

"Shut up, bitch! We had this spot reserved so we wouldn't have to deal with anyone, and *he* fucking stole it!" The large alien jabbed another large finger at the man accusingly as the two thugs put their hands at their weapons, anticipating trouble.

The assassin had tried to be civil about the whole thing but seeing the idiots being rude to the bartender had irked him, pushing him to action.“You just had to go there.” he growled, his anger showing clearly. He had a few rules that even his murderous alter ego was bound by, more of a personal code than a professional one, and the three had just crossed a line.

In a blur, he stood up and lashed out with a kick aimed at the left Jhili’s right knee, breaking the joint and sending the gray alien toppling to the ground. As the fishy being fell, Shade stepped to his side and stole his blaster, more to prevent it being used in the first place, though he wasn’t against using it to defend himself if he had to.

Before the others could react, he jammed the blaster into the waistband of his jeans and lunged for the other Jhili and in mere moments, he had the poor fool in a headlock with one arm while his free hand wrested the other gun out of its owner’s possession. Once he scored the gun, he used it to bash the alien’s head in just the right spot to knock the poor guy out cold. Setting the body down, he stepped forward. “You were warned, tough guy. Look where your attitude has gotten us. I’m pissed and your goons need the ER. Now, what would a smart guy do? I suggest you apologize to the nice lady for your rude words and get gone. Unless of course, you want to press your luck.”

Despite his size and strength, the hulking brute backed off and bitterly warned as he made a retreat "This isn't over, you son of a bitch! Godura Liga! Remember that name!" He left his unconscious comrades to be trotted off by machines to the medbay.

The bartender, in the meantime, had grabbed hold of a concealed blaster rifle beneath the counter of the bar but after witnessing the man dispatch the two thugs deftly, opted to let go of it discretely. "That was... intense. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Winters, too, was curious of this. Few can boast that they made a lumbering Gisdan run for the hills. This kid had some serious moves... Former Spec Ops, maybe?

Shade smirked as Godura stormed off, pleased that his tactics had paid off and the main threat to his health knew the best bet was to get lost. He set the two blasters aside and sat back down before looking at the bartender to answer her question. “Always wanted to get into fighting for sport, ya know? Martial arts and stuff. Then my dad signed me up for boot camp. My style mixed with the military’s and turned into...that.” he said, half-lying. Before he had become a contracted killer he was a soldier, and that’s where he had found his gift, his calling. Once he was relieved of his duty, he had needed the rush again. He had seen a form of hell and could never escape while still keeping himself sane. Too many bodies piled up in his wake.

“I’m just glad it was me and not somebody who couldn’t fight back.” he said before taking a drink of his beer.

The girl nodded with a sigh of relief that the tension had passed. She asked with a curious flick of her ears "Well, I'm glad things ended quickly before they could turn ugly. What's your name?"

Winters finished his own glass, turning to the mercenary to ask a better question "More importantly... are you for hire?" His blue-green eyes trained on the man, his pupils mostly dilated but still noticeably cat-like. He wore a dark red Longcoat lined with pouches and ammunition packs.

“My name’s Andrew Baker.” Shade said, using one of his near-inexhaustible pseudonyms. If one was found out, he could all but become a different person with only a little foresight. Even his skin would only reveal one identity and with the right chemicals, he could change even his superficial DNA so that only blood could ever properly trace back to his real name. Some had called his over-preparedness crazy, he preferred to call it tactical brilliance. He was a hired killer, the more ways he could obscure himself the better. He had learned that early on in his career of bloodshed

When the white-haired man asked if his skills were for sale, he smirked. “Oh most certainly I’m for hire, at least once we land and I turn in my current job. But of course, we can always talk shop and hash out the details now, get them out of the way.” he told the man, wondering how serious a job could be if such a show of his talents was enough to warrant his hire.

Winters introduced himself "Frost. Slayer, 52nd regiment. Pursuing two rogues out here in the Reach classified "Geno" and "Cide". Separate, they're dangerous. Together... they can bring an entire civilization to the ground."

His file he had back in his cabin was vague enough for a pair of Blacklisted Slayers, but still. Winters couldn't imagine two renegades with such power being let off the Central Defense Agency's leash.

Name: REDACTED
Codename: Cide
Slayer ID: E-05
Notes: Target has unusually high concentration of Mana in body. Expert Mage with knowledge of Blood craft. Mana purge tactics advised. Injury cautioned as blood can be manipulated and used as fuel for powerful Magicks.

Name: REDACTED
Codename: Geno
Sayer ID: E-06
Notes: Target is highly deranged and volatile, capable of absorbing and redirecting Magick-based energy directed at him and is trained in use of martial and projectile weaponry. Ambush tactics recommended, stealthy heavily advised - target lethal at over 2 km.

Shade turned white when he heard the names of their targets. Nobody in the bounty hunting business worth their salt didn’t know at least a few stories of those two, and if even half the stories he knew were true, then he was really in for the worst job of his career. Compared to himself, they were like monsters that only pretended to be human, effective at what they did but monsters all the same.

When Winters informed him that the two could bring a whole civilization to its knees, he chalked it up to the same sort of hogwash that earned him a title he never lived up to, or lived down knowing the truth of it. He had no doubt the two were dangerous but capable of that much? That’s where he could tell there was speculation “So, you want my help taking down those nutjobs? I’m gonna be blunt, a job like this, I’ll be charging a bit extra for obvious reasons.”

Winters nodded with a smirk "Naturally. You'd be serving entirely as a support role - I'm the one bringing them down." A spare gun would be handy, and mercenaries were a credit a dozen. If this "Andrew Baker" was killed in action, then he didn't have to pay anyone. If he lived through the mission, then CDA credits would compensate him.

"If you're down for this op, meet me in the crew quarters, sub-section C. We'll talk more there." declared the Slayer as he downed his drink and inserted a card into a terminal at the bar to transfer the necessary funds to the ship staff for the drinks. Upon finishing, he collected his things and left calmly.

The Felisian bartender grimaced awkwardly "Those Slayers... always a strange bunch."

“Strange is an understatement, but even I can’t deny they’re at least good at what they do.” Shade remarked, finishing his drink and paying shortly after. “If those numbskulls come back and try to harass you at all, you let me know and I’ll take care of it.” he told the bartender before walking off. He had a job to sign up for after all.

He made his way to where Winters wanted to meet. He didn’t know if it was the thrill of possibly bringing down two legends or the knowledge that for once, he was actually going to face a challenge, but he was excited. It was maddening, the rush that only a dealer of death could ever know, but he still kept his cool, focusing the intoxicating feeling, telling himself it’d be worth it sooner rather than later.

“Alright, I’m here.” he said when he found his soon-to-be employer. “There’s no way I’d turn down a golden egg like this.”

Winters had been tapping away at a datapad while sitting on a bench next to a sleek Etiquette Auton, who swiveled its metallic head to face the mercenary and greeted in a posh and refined manner "Oh! Goodness, the mercenary Master Frost enlisted! Let me the be the first to welcome you: I am VIC-07B, though many take to simply calling me 'Victor'. How do you do?" He bent down to offer a formal bow to the rogue, with Winters giving an idle wave as he swiped from screen to screen on details of the area they'd be surveying.

"Yeah, Vic's our help. He'll be maintaining the arms and armor, supplying food, all that. I trust you're fine with Minnersian hot rice and Phelkan beef?"

The Auton gave a synthetic chuckle and bashfully waved off the Slayer's comment "Oh, don't mind him, sir. Master Frost is always a slight acerbic before a big hunt. It's just his way."

Shade was surprised to see an Etiquette Auton working with them on a mission to dispatch two of the most extreme Slayers around, though the extra hands helping out in any context was well worth it as far as he cared. "Nice to meet you, Victor. I'm doing well enough all things considered," he replied to the droid.

When Winters mentioned that Victor would be maintaining their armaments, he shook his head. "I'm not against the menu but with all due respect, my firearms are...well, not standard issue and take a bit of care that only I can give them since I built almost all of their mechanisms personally," he said calmly. His weapons were his babies in a way, much like one cared for their cars. It didn't help that the guns he carried were rather like his signature and as such could blow his facade apart if their workings were outed to the wrong crowds.

Smirking, Winters noted "Illegal arms, I take it? Don't worry. No Chindara Security out here to confiscate 'em. Most you have to worry about are the Illimari, but unless you're a pirate or a renegade, they tend to not give a shit." The Chindara were the Core's main security force, apprehending everyone from drug merchants to terrorists.

The Illimary did much the same thing but operated close to the Reach, protecting the border territories between the Core and the Reach from various threats, ranging from the Org tribes, the Velkar Cartel, slavers, raiders, smugglers, and most of all - the Krand, a technologically advanced group of warriors.

"Yeah, yeah... let's get a move on, why don't we?" demanded a short Kelvaran directly behind Shade. Brown-skinned with amber eyes and large horns, the girl stood at roughly 5'4" and wore a dark longcoat similar to the one Winters himself wore, though she had a white arm band around her upper left arm with the symbol of the Trikon Corp. Her hair was short but soft and sleek, appearing silvery in the bright lights of the ship's hall.

The Trikon were the main field medical officers in the Chindara, dispatched on just about any assignment with the Prime's involvement. This was evidence that the Core as a whole had a vested interest in securing the Geno-Cide brothers.

Victor reprimanded sharply "Honestly, Ms. Zikar! You could stand to treat the newest member of our party with some more courtesy."

"That's Dr. Zikar to you, bolts, and as far as our trained gunman here is concerned, I am known as 'Yes ma'am' and 'No ma'am'. Do I make myself clear, lone ranger?" retorted the medical officer curtly to both the Auton and Shade, with Winters giving an amused smirk.

Shade let out a pent up sigh. “What a relief,” he replied. No Chindara Security was a small blessing given his real line of work. With them out of the way, he had a lot more leeway to do what he did best in accordance with his own ethics and methods.

When a voice came from behind him, he spun and instinctively reached for where he would normally have kept his personal sidearm, remembering only a fraction of a second later that he had left it locked in his quarters while he masqueraded as a civilian, which he was thankful for. The last thing the mission needed was a case of friendly fire gone wrong.

The moment the Kelvaran addressed him, he took a bit of offense at being referred to as a mere gunman but he held his tongue, outing himself as one of the most dangerous men alive was not something he wanted to do. There were perhaps only enough skilled marksmen in the entire sector who could rival him to be counted on one hand, an estimate he considered generous. “Yes ma’am.” he responded dryly, not wanting to give the new arrival a reason to get on his case.

“I hate to be the one to ask but just what kind of payout are we expecting? I’m not officially signing on to this until I know what I’m getting out of it.” he asked Winters. He really did hate to bring up the obvious but he knew his place was a hired hand, a glorified mercenary waging a battle against two of the most dangerous maniacs to ever live.

Winters set down a single, small bar of Karbonium, used in the making of Core credits. The bar's weight equaled to about 1,500 Core credits. The Slayer remarked "Down payment. The rest will be delivered after the brothers are secured. Seven-thousand CDA creds."

A standard bounty in the Core rounded at about 500 credits, so this "Andrew Baker" was getting a real bargain, especially due to the fact that he didn't exactly have to *hunt* their targets. Just secure them.

Dr. Zikar asked sarcastically while folding her arms "That enough to buy your service, wayward warrior?"

Shade’s eyes widened when he saw the bar of Karbonium. The lump of metal alone would have bought him easily twice over, maybe more, but then Winters’ next words sealed the deal quite firmly for the gunslinger. With such a large payment coming, he would be set for quite some time even if future work became scarce for a short season or so.

“That’ll do just nicely actually,” he remarked, weighing the bar in his hands. At least he was getting not only paid handsomely for his efforts but he could always use the capture of two renegade Slayers as leverage in his dealings. “With that out of the way, you can count me in after we land. Anything else that needs discussing?” he asked the others.

"Your death." answered a pale Heskran male sporting luxurious attire near the group. Flanked by him were a pair of elite Auton guards with blasters attached to their wrists, poised at the four. Behind them was the Gisdan, Godura Liga, the very same thug Shade had bested in the bar.

The lumbering brute pointed a thick, pudgy finger at the bounty hunter "That's 'im, boss. The little shit that sent Kirsy and Volgo to the medbay!"

The Heskran had dark, slicked back hair and dark rings around his eyes. He had light grey skin and faint Heskran tattoos lining his face and down his neck. His outfit was sleek and made of thin leather accented by dark green lining.

His voice was smooth and aristocratic as he spoke, bellying a cold and threatening intent "I understand, you blithering fool. You there, Slayer... is this a companion of yours?"

Winters glared at the alien. The Heskrans were a bitter people after the Great War left them in a state of unofficial genocide. The NIV Agent left the Heskrans sterile, so that theirs would be the last generation of their kind. *What happens when you pick a fight with the Nirvaan* Winters thought to himself.

"This Bounty Hunter was defending himself." he replied.

Dr. Zikar folded her arms impatiently as Victor hid behind her.

Facing the newcomers, Shade sighed. He hadn’t expected to deal with Godura again quite so soon after his crushing victory over the alien and his cronies. Two Autons and the Heskran rounded out the threat, not that the master assassin was deterred even with what he faced. Instead of fear, he was thinking only of following through with his prior threat a second time. His breathing was calm and measured, there was no sign he was thinking of anything aggressive at all, concealed by a facade of calm.

“I wasn’t defending myself at all. I didn’t want it to come to violence, but I didn’t quite care for how the big guy talked to the bartender. Had he done what I asked and let the matter drop, I wouldn’t have put those other two into the medbay the way I did, but he couldn’t just leave her out of it.” he told the Heskran. “That’s when I started cracking skulls. Now, why don’t you two take your Autons and walk away? I don’t want to show off again.” he offered, letting them make the first move.

Winters discretely reached for his blaster as the Heskran scoffed at the group. Turning as if to leave, he shot an arc of lightning from his fingertips with a thunderous 'bang', the ripple of destructive Magickal energy surging towards the Hunter quickly. In the meantime, the Autons readied their own blaster rifles and began peppering the area with red plasma. Quickly, Winters pulled Zikar and Victor behind a nearby couch and began returning fire.