Boundless

Whiplash

Lar'jar was standing behind his brother, at the deck commend, paying attention to the whole conversation between the Enforcer and the elder leading the Hunter packs residing in the other Yautja's ship.

Overall, the culture of their people could be considered one and the same. Differences among clans, generations ago, could be mostly pinpointed by customs that would vary according to the environment of their homelands.

Nowadays those divergences could be perceived in other aspects: if the clan would also push females into hunting, protocols around mating during the mating season, host and guest relationships and expectations, how communal life of child bearers would be, how the clan would deal with eventual bonded pairs, and so on.

As an Enforcer, Ah'kaedh had a very unique role: hunting his own people. Not for the glory or the sport. Nor for the renown. He did it because it was his duty.

It was not uncommon to hunt Bad Bloods from different clans: once disgraced, those Yautjas were no one. Their clans would not reclaim their remains.

(Elders and Matriarchs would prefer to take care of their own garbage, that was true enough. Soothe their displeasure employing violence).

The irony of it all: Ah'kaedh was not a sociable individual. His coldness and stoicism made him fit to play the part of executioner, yes, but... the social part? Not so much. To compensate for his lack of soft social skills, he learned about protocols and customs in detail, of each and every clan.

It was expected of Enforcers to keep cordial relationships with elders, leaders and matriarchs - and Ah'kaedh banked politeness to be able to build rapport and deal with such personalities.

It worked rather well, but... it was time consuming. A charming and easy going personality would probably be done with communications already. But Ah'kaedh still had some people to contact.

Which, in this case, was a blessing. Hopefully Ho'kan would be on his way back before the Enforcer had the opportunity to notice the Kid's absence.

***

Why can't I get a fucking break! Why?

Lance eyed the recently departed mercenary, reloading her pistol. She still had 4 bullets in that magazine, but it was better to change it now than go empty mid-shooting.

She put 3 bullets on that motherfucker, two on the chest, one in the neck.

Lance knew there was another person dogging her heels. The dead guy was not alone when she noticed him following her.

***

Ho'kan had found the ooman, alright. He recognized some of the features, sure, but the smell? Yes, it was her.

Which was part of the reason Lar'jar tasked him with retrieving the female. His brother didn't want to force her? Fine. But Lar'jar was not willing to risk his sibling's sanity in order to indulge Ah'kaedh's ideas of courtship (or whatever else was going on that head of his). The Medic would do it - except he couldn't.

Because there was a chance the Medic would end up with the wrong ooman. And if walked in with the wrong female? There was a fair chance the Enforcer would resort to violence.

You see, after witnessing his brother's frustration upon losing her trail, the Medic knew bringing her onboard was not going to be as simple as he previously thought. Yes, he found the whole situation utterly amusing (Ah'kaedh would never live it down), but misleading his brother was not easy business - hell, he was a fucking Enforcer, and a good one at that.

Enter Ho'kan: the other Yautja who could actually identify her.

If they were both missing for long, Ah'kaedh would surely become aware of the Medic's plan before they could fetch her.