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The Last Armegedon

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  1. This world, it held a bitter darkness to it. Shiro could feel it, taste it, smell it. It almost as if it pulled at his soul. And it waned as of it wanted to swallow him whole. Shiro and Dunstan took point as the group traveled forward, Dunstan seemingly unaffected by the planet's call as Shiro noted. But Shiro remained on guard, ever steady as each step of his foot pressed down into the sands, almost as if he was walking in the steps of another. And follow he did, even as the lifeless void presented its self to them all, his knowledge of this world, this place, unknowing. Shiro had never been one to back down from a challenge, but even this place, the feeling it gave him, told all his senses not to tread. Yet tread he did. If not for himself, for the sake of his men, even as the pain this place carried called to him in echoes of days past, his glowing crimson eyes darting about. Adun-Levennia... This is what they called this place, the darkness running his blood ice cold even as he drew near and first set his gaze upon it. His gaze darted between the two, these Sith and their grave artifacts, digging into pasts forgotten. He heard the tales, but never truly pictured it. The intrusive one knew of it. The elusive one delved in it. And Shiro feared it. An unholy trinity had converged upon it, and through them, awoke it. Swaying his mind away from it, Shiro ordered his men to begin setting up camp, he and Dunstan remaining among the two Sith as Saldana remained with the squad, her gaze carefully watching over the two in secret. But something here drew Shiro's mind, called upon it like a siren's song, and it made him uneased and yet unable to look away. Dunstan saw this and placed his hand upon Shiro's shoulder, bringing the Armegedian back to reality. "Come. Let's leave them to it."
  2. Valhalla Model: Centurion Class Battlecruiser Class: Battlecruiser/Capital Ship Length: 1,200 Meters Crew: 7,400 Troops: 600 Armament: Medium Turbolasers(6) Heavy Ion Cannon Batteries(6) Light Point-Defense Laser Cannon Batteries(6) Tractor Beam Batteries(3) Description: Still encrusted with the clay soil of Dxun and the fossilized bones of Dxun's infamous predator, the Drexl, the 11th Battalion 7th Imperial Marines have claimed the massive ship not only as their home, but as their presence in the overall Sith Fleet with the recommission Battlecruiser, using updated hardware and requiring less man power while providing an hardened stance to their "Truth of War" motto. History: Once entombed on the jungle moon of Dxun during the Battle of Onderon during the Mandalorian Wars, it sat the millennia that followed as a testament and memory of the old ways until a group of Sith Marines located and rebirthed the massive Captial Ship as their own symbol. Despite the years it sat as no more than a shrine, due to the clay soil and harsh elements that Dxun presented, its entirety was well preserved with little restoration needed. Recomissioned as the Base of Operations of the Onderonian 11th Battalion 7th Imperial Marines, also known as the Knights of the Blooded Drexl or House of the Rising Gaze, the Battlecruiser stands as a living Temple and Testament to their creed of Truth through War.
  3. 11th Battalion 7th Imperial Marines "Knights of the Blooded Drexl" Motto "Peace is a lie, there is only War." Through War, I gain Truth." "Through Truth, I rise." "Through my rising, I see the Horizon." "I am born of the Master of Truth." "I am born of the Blooded Drexl." Valhalla Valhalla was a Centurion Class Battlecruiser once forged in the fires of the Mandalorian Wars, but sat abandoned and entombed by the earth it crashed down upon for the last few millennia. Recomissioned for the 11th Battalion 7th Marines, it rose anew, the Imperial Marines breathing new life to the ancient beast. A spearhead for the Knights of the Blooded Drexl, it serves not only as their mobile home, but also as a testament to their "truth through war" philosophy, rising from the ashes of old just as they have. Standard Issued Gear Armor - Modified Sith Armor with vacuum sealed armorweave, rebreathers, magnetic boots, and personal shield. Allows for combat both on the ground and in open space. Weapons - Infantry specialists are equipped with E-11 Blaster Rifles, Imperial Issued Vibro-dagger, and KD-30 Dissuader. Heavy Infantry variate with either a Z-6 Rotory Blaster Cannon or Heavy Assault Blaster Rifle. Tactic Specialists are equipped with both an E-5s Sniper Rifle and DC-17m with an assortment of explosives from Grenades to Mines. Medic Specialists are only equipped with an E-11 Blaster Rifle and Imperial issued Vibro-dagger along with an assortment of Medical Supplies. Specialized Equipment - Outside of their modified armor, Infantry and Heavy Infantry Specialists possess a modified HUD unit within their helm with infrared and night vision readouts and automatic targeting systems. Tactic Specialists have a separate HUD that charts elemental and atmospheric readouts. And Medic Specialists have a HUD capable of reading vitals and X-ray scanning.
  4. Shiro's gaze averted in a semi-horrified look as the Sith mentioned his true last name, something even his comrades knew nothing about. For in the Imperial Marines, he was Shiro Seven of Odik II, and that was who he intended to remain. Turning his gaze away, he smirked toward Dunstan and Saldana, as he finished gathering his things. Within moments, he felt their rocketed decent, the other Sith imposing a horror filled plummet that mimicked the entrance of the Mandalorians of old, likely to intimidate and inspire fear. And as they touched down, Shiro exited the ship with very few words as he passed the first @Telperiën Ar-Pharazon. "I am Shiro Seven of Odik II. That is all that needs to be known..." His words were not expressed in defiance, but of informance. He withheld his true name but for only a sole purpose. And if this one was that observant, then he wondered how much longer he could keep up the ruse. With his words spoken, he disembarked behind the second with Dustan, Saldana, and the others in tow, the group fanning our at the forefront to gain the advantage should the locals grow intrigued. Two scouts were sent out while the rest remained to set up camp. But his mind echoed of the two Sith, the first's knowledge of who he was and what words she questioned, and the second's elusiveness to his own. What were their true goals here?
  5. Shiro's gaze only shifted for a moment as it met the other's arrival before it shifted back to the Sith he aided on the prison ship. Taking another sip, he silently tore open his rations and ate them as they were, stale, crumbly, and bland. But he wouldn't give either of them the satisfaction in this moment. With a hard gulp to swallow, he licked the access from his teeth as he turned toward the newcomer. "My anger is reserved for another." He spoke, his crimson eyes glaring at both as it shifted between them. "But do not worry. Your transgressions will not be forgotten." With that Shiro turned back to his meal and was about to take another bite when the klaxons erupted their familiar sounds, and Shiro shoveled his meal down and quickly flushed it with the Stimcaf as he stood and exited the commons, tossing its empty contents in the bin as he did. It wouldn't take him long to return to his group. "Dunstan, status report." Shiro barked, Dunstan recognizing Shiro's disdained look and rushing to his feet. "Not completely field ready, but I'm good to go, sir! Shiro glanced a brief glare, seeing the bacta patch being removed and his boot placed back on as he stood. With a grin that both knew all too well, he nodded. "Good. Gather the men. We've arrived to whatever hell hole these priestesses have brought us to."
  6. As the ship barreled through hyperspace, Shiro remained with his men. A simple anger roared in him as he shifted his gaze down the hall and back to Dunstan, his crimson eyes aflame as they shifted. His own stupidity almost cost his comrade his life, and yet, his foolishness ate at him more as the time passed. Partially blaming himself, partially blaming those two Sith that claimed his life as theirs. If only he was stronger, if only he weilded suxh power as them. Then he could have shown them the error of their ways. But he did not, and he could not. So all he could do was let the stew simmer within him, his intent to gain freedom and the power to weild only growing stronger with each encounter. First the slaves, those who bound him in iron and chain. Then the Tsis who bought him and taught him the rules of the Arena. And now his life as an Imperial Marine under the rule of the Dark King, enslaved again at the hands of those who say they follow his rule. It was almost sickening the hypocrisy he was finding himself subject to. With a subtle sigh, he forced himself to take a seat, his legs jumping in irritation and anticipation. Yet, he remembered the life he had been given at the Arena at Krayiss II, kindness recieved through combat and proving. It mimicked these two very well, as if he was nothing but fodder to them unless he showed them otherwise. But did they deserve it? Were they worthy of the devotion he put in proving himself in the Arena? For all they had shown him were tantrums, the spoiled simplicity of power granted and not gained, just as any spoon fed adolescent would reveal. Almost as if they had forgotten that in order to rule, you had to have the respect of your followers, not out of fear, but out of mutual benefit. He spat to his left as he stood up and paced more as his gaze shifted to Dunstan's being cared for. Soon the aroma of stimcaf graced his nose and he felt the gurgling of his stomach as him form ache for substance. It had been a long day and the last meal he had had was before the Battle of Coruscant even began. So he turned and made his way toward the galley where the smell originated, a familiar presence creeping up his spine as he grew near, causing his anger to boil evermore and the hair on the back of his neck to stand on it's end. He was about to turn away when a voice resounded, and knew he had been noticed. “Stims on.” Walking in, Shiro shot a subtle glare toward her as he turned toward the press, grabbing a nearby cup, a cup crusted with whatever remnants remained from its last use, and with a quick swab of insides with a cloth, poured a cup full. Looking over the stale rations, Shiro grabbed one and made his way to the table. Letting the silence linger, Shiro began his meal, taking a sip from the caf as his gaze shifted briefly toward her.
  7. Power... Shiro could feel it surrounding him, its weighted pressure pressing down upon his form like gravity as the girl with violet eyes stepped forward, her gaze locked with his own deep crimson. He could feel Dunstan reaching for him, almost begging for him to stand down. But these creatures, these Sith, gazed upon him no better than those his family was chastised by his entire life. Fear or not boiling within him, he held no reservations for backing down. If they wanted him, they will have to claim him. Even as he felt his form being squeezed by her power, his neck and spine frozen in crushing pain, he simply gazed at them in defiance. He would not be dismissed so easily. He was no pawn to be disregarded and disrespected, even if they held knowledge of their power where he was lacking. Yet, a part of his mind worried about Dunstan, his already injured form taking the same brutality as Shiro. And this was something Shiro was not fond of. "Cowards..." He managed to grasp out as he heard their words and spat upon them. "Fine." Shiro spoke again, his breath leaving his body as he fought to grasp another, his agreement leaving a distasteful sour in his mouth as he spoke them. But he would not let Dunstan's death be caused by his hands. "I will do as you wish. But remember this day." This was the day that Shiro began to understand why he was told to enlist rather than go straight to the top, these Sith before him no more than children with gifts like his own. The only difference that separated them was the different path that had been chosen for him, and it was a path that would rise even above their own. His gaze ablaze with tempered thoughts, Shiro demanded. "Let us go." The was the first truth he began to understand. Corrupts...
  8. His crimson eyes ablazed with fire as the arrow graced its presence, his gaze staring with fear filled intent at the first of arrivals, Dunstan at his side mentioning a subtle mellowtone doze of 'told you' as he shifted his form to a makeshift attention despite the hindrance of the crutches. But then Shiro's gaze shifted as the second arrived, his attempt to show no fear only stenched by its foul oder emanating around him as his crimson gaze met the violet gaze of hers. "Neither..." He spoke, his gaze shifting briefly between her and the arrow as he coarsely swallow a careful gulp before it returned to her. "Your comrade was injured.... I was worried." It was a half truth, but a subtle one to hide his own interests and the knowledge of his sensitivity that drew it. Here, in this moment, he knew he should have listened to his more experienced companion. But such was the way of curiosity, prideful as it may be. Still, he did not waver in his stance, even as he felt the tightness around his throat as the Sith he was following made her own approach, instead fortifying his convictions by not even bothering to fight against it. …Their blood can be useful in our charge… The words yet again tore at his mind, causing him to flinch against the tide of them as he felt the release and the ache of his body sliding against the durasteel flooring. Without thought or action, he recoiled, rushing to Dunstan's side to ensure his condition before he turned his gaze back toward those who considered themselves better and heard their words cross his ears in bitterness. A hiss to his voice, Shiro replied. "Only Imperial Command can issue me such orders. If you want me and my men, get them."
  9. Intrigue had bested the young Imperial Marine Corporal, and he could turn his gaze from the Sith Mistress before him. His questions had mostly went unanswered about the reasoning and why behind their invasion of the Prison Transport, and a part of him felt that the answers could lay within this Lady of the Dark, as fearful as he may have been of her after her display of Power. But what had drew his vision the most was the torment and pain that she had inflicted upon herself despite the Power that it drew upon her. Part of him understood it. Long had he relied on the infliction of pain and fear to motivate himself within the Arena of Krayis II. But never had he seen such intensity as the enhancement he saw her unfold upon herself as she withdrew herself. And so, in silence, Shiro followed. Despite the fear that dragged at the young Marine, he couldn't resist himself. She was Sith. Powerful and Dark. The very reason he had enlisted, to make his way through their Ranks and find his place amongst the Echelon, unbridled and free of his slaved and imprisioned past. It was because of this that he let his curiosity gain the upper hand in the battle waging within his mind. Tempted as he was to enlist the aid of their Medic as they passed his men, he waivered the call, knowing her to be Sith and possible of knowing a means to deal with her wounds, and so he continued to tail her. To understand her, it was possible he would in turn, understand himself and the power that laid in rest within him, dormant and stagnant. But that would have to wait, just as he would, as she turned into the refresher. Quickly his mind rushed with the possibility that she had caught wind of his following, a dangerous task in it's own right just as Dunstan had forewarned. But at this point, he did not care in the depth of his mind. Whether confronted or not, the answers needed answering and she was the first he had came across. So as she disappeared into the refresher, Shiro stepped aside and found his perch upon the durasteel halls amidst the shadows, his mind wandering in wonderment. What was it to be Sith? What was it truly like to wield this gift the Sith called 'The Force'? He played her actions aboard the ship through his mind again and again, his skin crawling each time, just as it did that day on Nar Shadaa when he was first captured and brought up for sale. And even then, his mind could not attempt to grasp an understanding at what the Force was and why he was sensitive. Sure, he knew the basics that all knew of the Force, the Jedi, the Sith, and it's tales of mysticism and magic. But even that was lost in translation, only false knowledge as evident in her plight aboard the death trap they had barely escaped. So what was it exactly? His thoughts were interrupted as four other women past, briefly causing his gaze to shift away from the refresher and his thoughts as they passed. Shifting his weight as they approached the refresher, Shiro's glowing crimson eyes illuminating his silver hair into a deep pink hue amidst the shadows of the bulkheads, his gaze focused upon them as the Sith and the new arrival met and conversed briefly before disappearing themselves into the refresher as well. Shiro's hair stood up on ends at the thought of having been caught, and he almost bolted. But something asked for him to stay, and without question, he did so. At least, until Dunstan showed up on crutches, his wounds patched and wrapped, looking a lot better. "You are playing with fire." He whispered, causing Shiro briefly to jump. "We are not welcomed in their world unless asked to lay our lives down for them." Shiro's gazed shifted to Dunstan. "Why is that?"
  10. Shiro boarded the ship with Dunstan on his shoulder, carrying his comrade up the ramp with haste, the others boarding behind them just as quickly. So many were lost upon this frigate, this deathtrap forged to keep the criminals within and yet unable to stop those outside from getting in. The horrors played back over and over in his mind as he sat Dunstan down, his gaze still fixated upon the Sith as she moved down the hall toward the cockpit and out of sight, the Imperial Marine unable to discern which of them were capable of more death, the Cabal or she. "Will you be alright Corporal?" Shiro inquired as his crimson gaze shifted away from the Trooper toward where the Sith had trekked, following the Pilot from before. "I want to find out what's going on exactly." "I will be now." He replied, placing a hand up on Shiro's shoulder, causing Shiro to gaze back at him and then to the others, only twelve members of the original assault remaining, the rest ghosts upon this ship now. "Be careful Shiro. The Sith are unpredictable, even under the leadership of the Dark King. Only his power binds them together." Shiro's gaze remained on Dustan and his warning resounded through his thoughts as he stood and headed toward the cockpit where he caught the form of the Sith huddled against the bulkhead and the pilot taking the helm. Cautiously he approached, unsure what to think of her or what she might do, too many questions for both swimming about in his mind to make sense of anything at this point. <<Will you ignore me...>> Shiro heard an otherworldly voice pierce his mind as his gaze briefly caught her form scramble for the nav-chair as his eyes ached to fade and his head ached to split for a simple second, his crimson eyes glowing as his form fell toward the bulkhead its self. Catching himself, the moment passed and Shiro shrugged it off, hoping whatever it was had passed and went unnoticed as he entered the cockpit. Catching her gaze upon his, he shifted them away as the pilot finished prepping the preflight check and offering his warnings when he heard the Sith speak, his attention turning back to her and Bakra. "Speaking of deathtraps..." Shiro spoke, his gaze fixated mostly upon the Sith's, but shifted toward the pilot as he finished his question. "What was the purpose of our mission here?" Shiro still held the missive that spoke of the Imperial Seal, but he felt that was just a secondary goal. If it was, then what was the true goal?
  11. "Understandable Petty Officer" Shiro spoke in jest, offering a hand up. "But given the hell hole that's pressing down upon us, retraining a Squadron are the least of my worries. Between the these feral beings and this cryptic vessel, I'll be happy to simply survive." Shiro left the words rest upon the air as the Petty Officer turned and disappeared into the fog of war as he turned to face the Sith before him, her movements almost as if not her own. Curious, he cautiously approached as his men continued their search, Dustan nearly completely patched up when he saw Shiro approaching the Sith. Barely able to move Dustan stood and rushed toward Shiro as best as his body could move, but Shiro could only see the milky white of her eyes as she fell forward, bile excreting from her foaming mouth as he reached out to aid her. And then came the shriek, Shiro unable to comprehend whether his form flew from Dustan's embrace or the power of her fury before he landed hard of what remained of the durasteel plating. Picking himself up and helping Dunstan stand, the white haired marine looked upon the display of power both in horror and confusion, Dustan's ineligible words garbled by the ringing that still stung at the Armegedian's ears. A few seconds passed before they finally able to reach the young Corporal. "Shiro! Shiro!" Dunstan yelled, Shiro flinching against his tone as his hand cupped his now bleeding ears. "Not so loud Dunstan." Shiro replied, his crimson gaze shifting to his comrade. "What was that?" He questioned. Dustan stared at the Sith with an all knowing look upon his face as he turned back to Shiro and only uttered what he knew. "The Power of a Sith Lord." Shiro's tanned face turned almost a ghostly complexion as he darted his gaze from the Sith to the missing deck plates to the revealed ship, and then back to the Sith all in a fluid motion as he tried to comprehend both its possibility as well as his own potential. After all, his whole purpose behind enlisting was his knowledge of his own sensitivity as well as his true heritage. But now, in this moment, he began to second guess it all. Was he truly capable of such actions? As the ship skidded across the floor toward the gathering group, all he could do was stare and hold Dustan on his feet. "Come on. Let's go" Dustan spoke, bringing Shiro back to reality. Aiding his comrade, Shiro began making his way toward the freighter just as the rest of crew began to return and board as well, all the while Shiro finding himself unable to take his gaze off the female Sith.
  12. The hall strobed with the flashes of crimson and emerald fire as Shiro and his men firmly stood their ground, some bolts recieved while most were given. Thankfully, none of the wounds gain were critical as the combination of adrenaline and determination boiled with them. Shiro stepped to the front, Dustan following his lead as they attempted to push forward through the flooding green of the Cabal and into the open, fire in their eyes mimicking Shiro's own crimson gaze. It was the field of battle and the drums echoed the pulse of their hastened hearts. And for Shiro, accompanied by Dustan, it was more than just life or death. They were the leaders of this marry band of brothers, chosen specifically by each of their comrades to replace what they had lost in this hopeless cause, not just to have orders given, but in the chance of survival even if it remained slim. And both chose to take it to heart, their men more important than themselves, and what they stood for in each of their eyes. They were to stand as examples, and truly lead by it. Step by step Shiro and Dustan began the push forward, their men guarding the rear as well as the front as they marched, a unit of few choosing to face death with a smile rather than a cowardly whimper. Their boots soaked in the blood of the Cabal and the green smoke that had settled upon their hidden forms twisting together beneath each step they made over the strewn bodies. Shiro felt the burning sting graze his cheek, and Dunstan nearly fell over as one tore into his calf, but neither of them faltered in their assault even as those behind him wrapped his arms around them and carried him forward out of the bottleneck. And in moments, the open arena welcomed them. Shiro's Z-6 whirled as the clip emptied, the young Armegedon stooping down as the two behind him continued their fire, giving him just the few spare seconds it took to eject the mag and clasp in another as they emerged from the hall and into the hangar, the group fanning out amidst the chaos that had ensued within the hangar. Unleashing the holy hell fire that rested in the new magazine, his gaze shifting toward the two combatants that the Cabal fiercely fought against ( @Fieldgrey, @Bakra). It was madness that he saw, the Force User ripping forms apart and reveling in its bath while the pilot looked to be nearly overcome by injury. And as the battle began to die down, Shiro glanced at Dustan and both gave a mutual nod toward the other. "Alright men, fan out. See if any of these ships are salvageable for our escape." Shiro ordered, his men quickly crossing the hangar to search the ships to see if any were worthy of flight. As the Sith rose from over the Pilot, Shiro approached alone, Dustan being tended to by the medic in his group. The white haired boy gave a subtle bow to the Sith, his crimson eyes glowing against his tanned skin even in the darkness of the hangar. "Ma'am. Corporal Seven of the 7th Marine Battalion. Are you two alright?"
  13. Turning another unknown corner, Shiro ordered a full halt to the team as his face went ghost white in comparison, the metallic plates beneath his feet echoing of a small tremor that rolled through the ship's vast form. He knew the concussion of explosives, felt them in the arena when those stupid enough to use them against an opponent did. Everyone knew. And those who didn't, didn't live long enough to learn such a mistake... if they were lucky. In the brief second, his memory turned back to a veteran he had befriended, legs lost to amateur who decided to use such a crude means of winning. But Cho was quicker, and managed to save most of his form in his escape. For the arena was large, but not for explosives. And by the way these felt, Shiro knew they were in tandem, rolling along in the belly of this beast they had found themselves upon. "Frek the Seal." Shiro mumbled under his breath, his words mainly aimed at Dunstan until he whistled and circled his hand in the air briefly as he called out to his group. "The ship is lost. Head to the hangar. Double time it!" And with that, the group spun around and headed down the opposing corner from wince they had came. Even as they ran, the rumbling of explosions and the heat of fire sifted upward from beneath them, Shiro himself stumbling a few times from the sheer force rolling levels below them. And to explain it in simplest terms, it could only be described as the ore beneath their feet rolling like waves. Shiro knew the importance that this Seal held for his superiors, but it was long lost to them now, even if they properly gave their lives to retrieve it. The Hexa was going down and there was no stopping it now. By now Shiro and Dunstan had taken the lead, the learing weariness of what laid behind them growing a distant memory as their survival Instincts kicked into overdrive and their determination grew tenfold. But as they neared the hangar, a ghastly sight forebod them. Piercing through the mixture of green gas and moving forms came a mask as it turned to meet their sight, the beastly Cabal turning his weapon to rain death upon the group. But this group had changed. Though most were considered fresh recruits, their hearts and minds echoed of hardened veterans as their will to survive overcame fear and doubt in a simultaneous bearing of arms. Before the other Cabals could even attempt to face them, a barrage of crimson bolts lit up the hall in a tandem unison. Confined and with little room to move against the squad of Imperial Marines and Troopers, they never stood a chance. Only those in the open that would use their comrades as meat shields would have time to react, but neither the Marines nor the Troopers would relent their pursuit of survival to even give them a chance. Time was of the essence and the explosions were growing near.
  14. Shiro's eyes burned with both anger and fear as he listened to the missive, his grip upon the datapad tightly squeezed as fractures began to cross into the video he gazed upon. Not only did the fear of the unknown set a weight within his heart, but the newly added weight of his comrades in arms now sat squarely upon his shoulders caused his neck to ache from the thought of their loves solely placed in his hands. He was a fresh recruit, barely out of basic training, and the only experience he had outside that was saving his own skin in the Arena on Krayiss II. This was a whole new league for him to be thrown into, and if the enemy contact they made previously was any suggestion of truth to the missive, things were about to get even more serious. But if it hadn't been for the anger boiling in his blood, Shiro's level of anxiety would have sent him straight into a hyperventilate state. Shiro was a descendant of a POW, political prisoners locked away for lifetimes and generations by an ancient Imperial order that died out long ago. And for him to be thrown into another prison as an enemy soldier of another faction that hid it away from public eyes, one who supposedly served its public, infuriated him beyond belief. He knew the truth of politics, but this was beyond that. This was the same devil his ancestors knew assuming a different name and persona. Perhaps Shaq'teel knew this when he sent Shiro to join the Imperial Legions, to discover this truth for himself and offer a way for him to change it. Shiro's mind was ablaze with the information and possibilities that now presented themselves. And despite the fear, he knew his purpose now. He was an Imperial Marine, and he would serve loyaly to change things. "Prepare to move out. We've got our orders. Dustan..." Shiro began to bark out orders, his blood boiling with anger and the missive fresh on his mind when he noticed Dustan messing with the terminal. "Its pointless. Comms are..." Was all he managed to mutter before an eerie message began bellowing across the ship, its automated voice repeating a cryptic sign. In a burst of anger, Shiro grabbed Dustan and shoved him against the wall near his men, rifles shouldered and at the ready by all. "What did you do?" Shiro blurted out, his glowing red gaze inflamed by the fire in his chest. "You've likely just alerted the entire enemy's army to our position." Shiro couldn't believe the stupidity, but at the same time, he couldn't help but understand that if the roles were reversed, he might have done the same thing. So he released the private and ordered all to lower their weapons. "What's done is done. Prepare yourselves and move out. We certainly cant stay put any longer. We continue forward and pray to whatever Gods we worship that we dont run into anything. Double time it men!" Turning back to Dunstan, Shiro dusted off his armor and handed him his weapon. "Forgive me. Tensions are high right now and this missive only confirms the worst. Let's go." Allowing Dunstan to follow his fellow Troopers and Shiro's Marines, Shiro took up the rear, his Z-6 at the ready. Turning right out the room, the group began their trek once again into the unknown, the cryptic and eerie message on a constant repeat as it bellowed across the ship, echoing in the darkness of its holds and around every corner. Turning his gaze to Dustan once again, Shiro spoke a simple question. "Where is the Seal located?"
  15. Shiro stared back at the injured man, his stance seemingly cold and calculated, despite the gaze of sorrow he felt as he watched one of them make the long approach. It felt like an eternity in the moment and a part of him wished it to be over. But Shiro had called for the best of actions, and because of it, he felt he shouldn't turn his gaze away. He could see the breathing shallow, notice the body tense and go limp as the mind fell in and out of consciousness, and he could see the movements of the man's comrades as they grew ready for the moment just as Shiro did. And then came the glow of crimson as the bolt buried its self just below the jawline, most everyone jumping including Shiro. And in that moment, Shiro heard the familiar gurgle of death as the former sentient was released from his pain eternally. It's only natural for anyone to second guess a suggestion or to wonder if they thought right along the process of logic and reality. And for Shiro, it was no different, his hands and body trembling as he watched the man expire. A part of him wondered if he could have been wrong and he just suggested a being's life to be taken. But there was also the half that knew better, knew the outcome no matter the routes taken and the luck granted. Shiro sighed and shook his head. He needed to think clearly and rational if he and the others were going to make it out of here alive, his glowing crimson eyes catching each of their stares as they began to look to him for guidence. And then the Trooper made his approach. "Please, its Shiro Seven." Shiro spoke in return to his question, his gaze shifting in sorrow toward the Trooper who still held the body of her fallen comrade. "New recruit in the Imperial Marines, Private rank as well. We got pinned down just down the corridor by a few green men and a rancor sized beast wielding a cleaver. This direction was our best retreat." Shiro pointed in the direction they had came from near the engine rooms where their Staff Sergeant intended to storm the bridge using the service lift, but before they could reach it, they were led into an ambush. And now, like these Troopers, they were leaderless and alone behind enemy lines. Not the best combination for fresh recruits. "Our Staff Sergeant was KIA'd and I've been doing my best to keep us alive."
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