Freelancers

Unknowing

Space is cold, dark, and unforgiving and the ARC Orbital Prison was no different. Deep within its metal walls lay countless numbers of ruthless men and women awaiting their fate. Shrieks of pain can be heard as far as the docking bays - the result of inquisitors following standard procedure. Alarms echoing through every hall, however, were not standard procedure. Klaxons blared loudly and red warning lights danced across the cold metal walls. It was dark and the pulsating red lights gave him a headache.

This was supposed to be a simple recovery mission. Now the entire prison guard will be swarming my position. Where is she?

Heart pounding in his ears and adrenaline coursing through his body, he knelt down in the hallway and a quick pat down assured him that his equipment was accounted for. He secured the helmet on his head, and ran a system check through the onboard display. He was not too fond of armored combat suits since they limited his mobility, but considering the odds he was facing he could not complain. Ahead, he could hear the click-clack of the prison guards' armored boots as they rush towards his position. This was supposed to be a snatch-and-grab. Simple, but rarely was it easy. They may corner him, but he was a resourceful man. With a click he arms a Banger. It may not be as elegant as the military issued CN-1X concussion charges, but he was no military man. This was a bare hallway. No doors for guards to show up unexpectedly, but no alcoves to utilize for cover either.

Great.

He heard the muffled sound of shouting voices and nervous men behind a steel door 10 meters away. Clearly these men were inexperienced riot guards, as each order their commanding officer barked was another piece of intel to his advantage.

How unprofessional.

Still kneeling, he used his free hand to unholster his blaster. The door blasts outward with a loud explosion, pushing smoke and sparks into the air. Cerulean blaster fire began streaming relentlessly through the new opening with a few glancing harmlessly off of his chestplate and vambraces. Jag rose and, in one swift motion, leveled his blaster towards the first three unfortunate guards who step through. He squeezed the trigger and the first two dropped to the floor with smoking, fist-sized holes in their chests. A single, well placed headshot dropped the third. Jag fell to his knees to dodge the next barrage of bolts and activated the flash shield on his helmet. He threw his body laterally to the opposite side of the hallway and hurled the Banger towards the next group pouring out. A loud explosion echoed in the room beyond, and dust and debris kicked out into the hallway.

Dazed guards trip and fall through the doorway, and were easily picked off. Jag ducked into a roll under the next hail of bolts as three fresh guards with renewed resolve push through. They were heavily armored and armed with sizzling batons meant to beat inmates into submission. Jag allowed a smile to wipe across his face at the new threat. He holstered his blaster and reached back to withdraw the telescoping vibrostaff from his waist then thumbs the switch on. As his first assailant reached striking distance, he swung his staff horizontally and connected with his attacker's cheekbone, shattering it.

The next guard swung wildly at him with the sizzling stun baton. Jag pivoted backwards on his right foot to dodge the strike. The smell of ozone filled the air as the baton harmlessly electrified the air beside him. The guard's momentum carried him forward and off balance, but a swift knee to the chest and a hard elbow to the spine accelerated his descent to the metallic floor. Jag finished him off with a quick hit to the back of the head with his staff, and he lay in a crumbled heap on the floor. A third guard rushed forward to avenge his fallen comrade. Jag settled back comfortably into his fighting stance, cool and alert. The guard seemed equally at ease, and his posture conveyed some measure of martial skill.

He's confident, experienced even.

Jag snapped out of his analysis when a wide swing nearly grazed the front of his chest. Jag took a few steps back to open up the space between them, and raised his armored rear leg up in a snap-kick towards his opponent's head. He ducked. Jag retracted his striking leg and feinted left, then went right. He brought his vibrostaff around in a circling attack meant to catch his opponent's head, but he clearly anticipated it and dropped down on his haunches. The guard exploded upwards in a motion that brought the pommel of his shimmering blue weapon to connect with Jag's solarplexus. He stumbled backward and the assailant's second swing caught Jag across the shoulder. The air around his shoulder smelled acrid and his charred shoulder plate threatened to fall off. Moments later he felt the shock of a million fires ignite across his body. He stifles a scream and attempted to channel that energy into his next attack.

What was that?

Clearly no longer facing stun batons, Jag raised his vibrostaff to meet his attacker mid swing. His eyes widened in disbelief as the baton snapped his staff in two. He dropped the remains of it and quickly drew his blaster. He was not fast enough. The baton connected against his hardened Kerren Assault helmet. He stumbled backwards in a daze and landed on his head with a sickening crunch.

All he felt was searing pain, as his helmet disintegrated around his face. He lay on his back writhing in pain, trying to peel the helmet off of his face. Darkness was rapidly approaching at the edge of his vision. The footsteps and shouts of guards approaching him grow louder. He could not stop here. He had to fight.

Then darkness consumed him.