When you wanted someone dead, and you wanted it done clean - no mess, no trail of blood leading to your door… you hired Tyr Anasazi. Everybody knew it, though no one could say why… His reputation in this regard was impeccable, though no one could prove that he had actually killed a soul. Still, there were drawbacks. The usual ones. A Nietzschean couldn't be trusted to see the job through if the job jeopardized his own survival, and Tyr was no exception.
So when you wanted someone dead, no matter what the consequence, you didn't hire Tyr. You hired the Ogami. As mercenaries went, they were largely sloppy. To hire the Ogami meant that you wanted the person dead, and you didn't care who knew it. Their single minded devotion to the task at hand meant that no matter how many people died in the process, in the end, your mark was one of them. The drawback? You can't undo the hit. When they accept the job, its as good as done. It was very hard to turn the sisterhood from a mission once accepted. It usually required the death of all who knew about the mission in the first place. And Ogami are very hard to kill. Many a soul committed suicide on the rumor that the Ogami were out for them. It was always better to choose your own time of death, when death was certain.
Which was why Tyr was upset. It had been months since the Ogami had attempted to assassinate Dylan, and there was no sign of them. Their lack of follow-up was so atypical, that it warranted suspicion. To the best of his knowledge, none but he had any. The ship, he knew, assumed that he had ordered the hit, and then changed his mind. He smiled at that. Good to have an intelligent warship believing that you care more for the captain she idolizes than you do for anything else. It was an image worth nurturing, so long as he didn't get killed for it.
Reviewing the flexi in his hand, he came to one conclusion. He needed answers, and he didn't have any. His survival, and the survival of the mission, and his own agenda depended on him getting some. Fast.
"Ship. Release the slipfighter from docking bay c." Andromeda's visage flickered in front of him. "What for?" she asked, her arms crossed in front of her.
"Just do it!" Exasperated, Tyr walked through her image, and stepped into the craft. "I'll be reporting this to Dylan, and tracking your motion."
"I'm counting on it." Tyr replied. The docking bay opened, and Andromeda's projected image disappeared.
So when you wanted someone dead, no matter what the consequence, you didn't hire Tyr. You hired the Ogami. As mercenaries went, they were largely sloppy. To hire the Ogami meant that you wanted the person dead, and you didn't care who knew it. Their single minded devotion to the task at hand meant that no matter how many people died in the process, in the end, your mark was one of them. The drawback? You can't undo the hit. When they accept the job, its as good as done. It was very hard to turn the sisterhood from a mission once accepted. It usually required the death of all who knew about the mission in the first place. And Ogami are very hard to kill. Many a soul committed suicide on the rumor that the Ogami were out for them. It was always better to choose your own time of death, when death was certain.
Which was why Tyr was upset. It had been months since the Ogami had attempted to assassinate Dylan, and there was no sign of them. Their lack of follow-up was so atypical, that it warranted suspicion. To the best of his knowledge, none but he had any. The ship, he knew, assumed that he had ordered the hit, and then changed his mind. He smiled at that. Good to have an intelligent warship believing that you care more for the captain she idolizes than you do for anything else. It was an image worth nurturing, so long as he didn't get killed for it.
Reviewing the flexi in his hand, he came to one conclusion. He needed answers, and he didn't have any. His survival, and the survival of the mission, and his own agenda depended on him getting some. Fast.
"Ship. Release the slipfighter from docking bay c." Andromeda's visage flickered in front of him. "What for?" she asked, her arms crossed in front of her.
"Just do it!" Exasperated, Tyr walked through her image, and stepped into the craft. "I'll be reporting this to Dylan, and tracking your motion."
"I'm counting on it." Tyr replied. The docking bay opened, and Andromeda's projected image disappeared.