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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Cerulean_Wings" data-source="post: 4211093" data-attributes="member: 55060">Star ClashPart I Killing is easy: you point your plasma pistol at someone’s face, say “Blow up, will you?”, pull the trigger, and that’s what they  do. What’s the best part? The sound of sweet, sweet victory. That’s the sound I’m looking forward to when I find Rayne and blast the bastard into nothingness.The corridor leading to the Seventh Heaven pub is just like all the others I’ve been through: white, with dozens of highly detailed multicolored paintings of pure beings. The Ascendants’ insatiable desire to make building walls look remarkable seems to go hand-in-hand with their insatiable desire to prove themselves better in any way than the rest of us “normal” humans in the galaxy.Rayne Zetrus, leader of Sacred Earth as the Crest of Purity, better known as the Righteous Nova. He could be the King of the Universe, for all I care; He’s going to die as soon as I make it to his bar where he’s having a drink, probably celebrating another planet of “alien scum” being destroyed by his guild. Another guard passes by as I walk forward. He grunts at me, sounding disgusted rather than awed at my presence. Not surprising, since my reputation as the Scourge proceeds me practically everywhere in the galaxy.Siding yourself with the Triumvirate does that to you.My microcom beeps once, loud enough for only me to hear it, but I ignore it; I told my crew that I would be gone for some hours, and that they shouldn’t try to contact me. It seems like my simple request has been disregarded in the record time of twenty minutes and forty seconds. They worry too much; It’s not like I haven’t pulled off this whole “go in all by myself and kill the bastard who sabotaged our operation” deal before.I turn to the right, following the golden sign that points towards my self-righteous victim’s location. Seventh Heaven may be under control of Sacred Earth, but I’ll be damned if that’s going to scare me from doing what needs to be done. My posture is straight, completely erect, a grand display of confidence and composure, with rage simmering right below the surface, ready to jump out at my call. Still, the fingers in my left hand, the shooting hand, twitch, and I’m forced to steady them by flexing them slowly. Up to this date, no one who messes with Arken’s Zealots lives for long; I make sure of that with the help of my Leviathan X3, one of the best plasma guns in the galaxy, securely attached to a holster on my hip.  And more to the point, no one messes with me, Arken Shane, and brags about it for more than a solar cycle before I bring down the hammer on the fool who dared to cross my path. Ah, there it is! The double megatanium doors leading into Seventh Heaven (which is going to be renamed to Seventh Hell once I’m through with my business there). No sentries at the entrance, of course; Sacred Earth wants to make it look like they don’t expect people like me to want to go in and make a slaughterhouse out of their bar. Maniacs, all of them.  The nigh-impenetrable doors slide open in the blink of an eye as soon as I approach, and the smell of incense greets me like an overwhelming host who just loves to please. The place is nice, but in an Ascendant type of nice, so not nice at all for me. Exotic shaped chairs with extra pillows and drapes of all colors, tables designed to resemble halos, holographic candles on top of actual sources of light, and more things than one could possibly register with a quick glance.There’s patrons everywhere scattered around the tables of the large pub, but mostly orbiting around one, that of their beloved leader: Rayne. Too bad their proximity will get them caught in the impending blast. Y’know, I’d tell him that his security ‘bots just plain suck if it wasn’t for the fact that I want him gone from the face of the galaxy; I can spot their stealth fields several feet away without the help of my gizmos.“Excuse me” I say casually as I slide through waves upon waves of patrons, each dealing with their own affairs, each completely oblivious with what I’m about to pull off, what no other has dared to perform before. It’s like a magic trick that no illusionist is brave enough to perform, but when one daring mage does it, he becomes a legend, a star. That’s the history of famous people, or at least that’s my take on it. Try as I might, I just can’t stop the nagging fear deep in my mind that warns me of my victim becoming even more famous in death. Aw, to hell with it; Rayne Zetrus is a dead man. And if I’m wrong-nah, impossible. No point in worrying about “what-if”s. Thirty feet. Getting closer, oh so slowly. Die Rayne, die.I can see the bastard from here: tall, skinny, shoulder length fire-red hair tied in a ponytail, short moustache and beard, and although his coat that identifies him as the Crest of Purity is pearl-white, it’s more like a bulls-eye for me. I walk around in order to get him from behind.Twenty feet. Rayne is dead.I hear the buzzing of plasma weapons being drawn and activated, ready to fire their cargo at any time; seems like the organic bodyguards around Rayne are smarter than the ‘bots, since the latter still haven’t made a move, remaining in their useless stealth fields. As I pass by another table I “sneeze”, seizing the moment to cast a quick glance around, counting the guards, robots excluded.Ten feet. Ten guards. Rayne is no longer with us.Still no movement from any of the bodyguards, surprisingly. Are they that confident? Is Rayne that confident? They all look my way with empty looks, and I pretend they’re as fascinating as black holes; I can’t allow myself to become distracted, not now when I’m so close. Mister Purer than Thou is sipping his beverage just like he would any other day; it doesn’t seem as if he’s aware that his lifespan has been reduced to mere seconds because his sentries allowed me to get this far. Five feet. Goodbye Rayne, it wasn’t nice knowing you.The nut case whirls about with his chair one hundred and eighty degrees in order to face me, although I don’t remember intending to give him the slightest hint of my presence. He’s smiling that big, serene smile that begs “Punch me, you’ll feel good about it”, and it’s with impossible self-restraint that I refuse to yield to that compulsion.“Arken, what a surprise. What brings you to my humble abode?” he asks, never leaving those gray eyes of his from mine, one hand still holding his drink. How I manage to not jump over him and bite his face off amazes me. “I’ll give you a hint” I begin, clenching my fists and jaw at the same time, my tone barely concealing the surge of violence beneath “Your cronies messed up with the air tanks of our Colossus Plates, replacing them with poisonous gas. Imagine our surprise when we realized that just after a Vestii squad reached my ship with murderous intent.”He doesn’t respond, or at least not initially. Rayne shakes his head slowly and sighs, a very condescending gesture. “My dear Arken, how could you come up with such a preposterous notion, hmm? Sacred Earth would never do such a thing to your combat equipment. We only confront space vermin, for the benefit of the galaxy, as you should already know.”“Along with everyone else who dares defend aliens from your blood-stained hands!”. The words come out harder than I intended, and I have to straighten myself, for my upper body is leaning forward, my face mere inches from my nemesis’. Rayne looks amused. “Sacred Earth doesn’t like the Triumvirate and their ‘play nice’ policies that include aliens, humans and Ascendants, that’s no news” I go on, keeping my anger in check. “The Vestii couldn’t have sabotaged anything since they don’t believe in subterfuge, only in getting rich by killing other species”.By now nearby people who have (or want) nothing to do with this give some worried glances in my direction, and some even go as far as moving to another table as stealthily as possible.I extend my right hand with my index finger pointing at Rayne accusatorily. “Who else but you, Rayne Zetrus?”. Of all the things he could’ve said and done in retort, the bastard chose to clap his hands and chuckle at my detective prowess. “And you came all the way to my bar in order to tell me this, hmm? Arken, dear Arken, if you knew this for a fact, why bother coming to the wolf’s den, instead of taking the hint and finding a hole deep enough where I can’t find you and your Zealots?”    Ah, so the curtains are lifted and the charade blown away as quick as lightning. I guess it’s my turn to tell him that…“Nobody messes with me”. My Leviathan X3 is out and saying “hi” to Rayne’s forehead as soon as I finish pronouncing the first word. He doesn’t even flinch; typical of a man who considers himself invulnerable. The guards and robots, on the other hand, all react as one and make a move to take aim with their respective weapons. A split-second later they realize that such actions won’t be beneficial to their leader, not with my weapon mere inches from his face. Rayne still looks amused, never ceasing to smile. Someone yells in surprise somewhere in the tavern, and the sound of patrons getting up hastily emerges at long last.“Arken the Scourge always comes for those who cross his path, Rayne, as you should already know” I state, using his earlier words as my own. A drop of sweat descends from the back of my head like a lone raindrop to the canyon wall that is my back. My muscles feel like they’re made of jelly.What the hell, this should be easy; I’ve done it like a thousand times, why is this one any different? Why won’t he stop smiling?Time comes to a standstill. Rayne’s life hangs by a rope which I’m holding with a finger, my trigger finger, and he knows it. Yet he keeps looking at me as if it was all a very entertaining performance. So be it, then: let this be the end of the show for Rayne Zetrus, the Righteous Nova. I pull the trigger of my Leviathan X3. There’s the low hum that comes a split second before the shot, followed by the white and gold beam of light emerging from the tip of the weapon.And then there’s sound of sweet, sweet victory.</blockquote>

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