Snow blanketed the ruins of the city, as if trying to cover the scars with a featureless array of white. A clean slate or a new start of sorts. Anything to mask the devastation of a war that had raged for far too long. Unfortunately, it wasn't working.
Nikki Damir scowled at the landscape, noting the jagged edges of buildings that jutted up out of the snow, which had been turned an ugly gray-brown from the smoke and ash in the air that always seemed to hang over the planet like a shroud. She hefted her rifle on her shoulder absently, taking the familiar weight of the sniper rifle with relative ease as she slogged through the snow after the rest of her team.
They'd given up putting out the fires ages ago. She couldn't remember if it had been months or years. Didn't really matter, anyway. They'd never been able to keep up with them, not with rebels bombing the crap out of anything that still stood and setting fire to anything that might catch. Better to let the districts burn out. Standing structures could be repurposed. After all, if it was strong enough to take a bomb hit and survive, it could handle a huddle of soldiers sitting inside, planning their next move. Or so she hoped every time her squad hunkered down in its own makeshift shelter. They'd heard rumors of buildings collapsing, taking out entire squads and making life that much easier for the enemy. Still, the shelters were better than trying to brave the cold, and so they all ignored the stories as best they could.
Nikki ducked beneath the sagging frame of what had once been a massive building, long since destroyed by either airstrikes or fires, she couldn't tell. Either way it looked like a gentle gust of wind could be enough to bring it crashing down, as she grimaced as she stepped lightly through the rubble, glancing ahead at the rest of her squad. None of them seemed even slightly concerned. Her eyes scanned the group, lighting on their silhouettes with a comforting knowledge. She mostly only knew them by their codenames, given to them years before. It had been a long time since any of them had used their given names, and so it was second nature now.
Kretch ambled on in front of her, tall, gangly, and toting his assault rifle casually over his shoulder as he told his sixth joke to Viper. The redheaded woman's stoic expression was one of the many constants in their group dynamic, and it didn't change now. Nikki wasn't sure why Kretch kept trying, but try he did, every time they went out, and always with the same result. Viper had punched him once, having gotten particularly tired of him that day. And Nikki didn't blame her in the slightest. The two women on the team had crafted a quiet friendship from their second week on the squad, and while Nikki was far more amiable than the straight-faced woman, the two had gotten along well.
Further ahead, Shadow and Shriek walked in step together, ignoring the banter behind them. Shadow had joined the team fairly recently, and had earned his callsign during one of their many night missions. Nikki still impressed by how quickly and quietly he could move through the rubble that had once been a city, though he was bar far the most vulnerable of the team. He'd been outfitted in simple cloth armor to allow him to move fast and quiet, leaving the team to be sure he didn't get shot in the back in the meantime. And then there was Shriek. Formerly Shriekhawk, the team had affectionately shortened their leader's callsign to the least noble of the two possible nicknames. Team leader and father figure to all of them. They'd follow his orders into a blackhole. Had basically done so, more than once. Each of them owed him a personal dept after this whole world had fallen apart.
When the government had fallen, the planet had gone into utter chaos. The barracks had turned into a civil war, with soldiers shooting those who had been their closest friends only hours before. It had been a nightmare, and Shriek had pulled them all out of it. Given them a goal. Purpose. They all owed him a lot more than simple obedience.
And not a single one of them seemed worried about setting foot in a building that looked like it could fall if one of them happened to brush up against a wall.
Nikki grumbled under her breath, planting one hand on a crumbling wall and vaulting up and over it. The whole building didn't collapse on her in punishment, so she continued forward, weaving back and forth slightly to cover all angles for the team. It was Viper's job to make sure they weren't about to step on a buried mine, a task she performed by unceremoniously shooting the snow at her team's feet, sometimes without warning, but it was Nikki's job to make sure they weren't about to walk into an ambush. As team sniper she had the furthest vision, and so often pulled her rifle from her shoulder to make sure the team was clear to progress. Thus far, there hadn't been any signs to the contrary, and the team was moving unimpeded.
They'd run into two groups of looters so far, and one band of rogue soldiers. Both had been taken out with no damage to the squad and they'd left the bodies where they fell in the snow. Nikki had circled back each time under the guise of checking their flank for any who thought to retaliate.
She'd closed their eyes against the flat gray of the snow laden clouds, covering their faces when possible. Shriek would have given her a tongue lashing for it, but the city knew enough death. Looters or not, they deserved to face death with some dignity, rather than staring up wide-eyed at the sky, searching for some sort of hope that wasn't coming. It was what she hoped someone would do for her when she ate a bullet one day. Snipers only lasted so long out here, and death would hand her its calling card soon enough. She hoped she got to greet it with some measure of dignity on this backwater world she called home.
Blue light washed over the bridge of the ship, contrasting with the orange glow provided by the data scanners currently running on board. Both sources of light reflected off of a T-Visored helmet, set carefully aside on the display port. Dents and scratches adorned the painted surface of the helmet, including one large scorch mark on the left side, a testament to the less than luxurious life led by the man who now listened intently to a flickering holograph.
The flickering light cast deep shadows onto his face, hiding some features one moment only to reveal them in the next. Drey tilted his head, squinting slightly against the harsh light emitted from the projector. Fiddling with the controls had done little good to improve the connection, and so now he was taking apart the entire array as his contact continued to speak. The Twi'lek pointedly ignored the times Drey ducked out of sight with hydrospanner in hand, only to reappear moments later.
"You sure Mandos are on that list of the dead?" Drey asked finally, nodding to a datapad his contact cradled as if it was worth more than his very life. In some circles, it undoubtedly was.
"Positive," the man's voice was tinny through the poor connection, something that hadn't been present before. Drey frowned, moving to tighten a connection. "Three of your kind have gone missing, presumed dead. No way to confirm it, not without boots on the ground, but…"
Drey sighed, nodding to placate the irritated Twi'lek. He could already see the broker's headtails twitching in annoyance.
"But your intel is solid. It always is," Drey acknowledged. "What in haran is happening on some backwater planet that means three Mandos are presumed dead?"
"A generations long war," Drey's contact answered. "Used to be nothing major. But lately, it's leveled whole cities. The planet itself is a mess. Thousands dead. More dying every day. The governor called for Mercs, but apparently rebels are shooting down any shuttles that get too close to the surface. In short, nobody has a clue what's going on down there, and that needs to change. Fast. Since it's your people getting killed and suicide missions are your thing, figured I'd give you a call."
Drey stopped fiddling, arching one brow pointedly. "You started by saying this was a routine job. Nothing special. When did that turn into 'suicide mission'?"
"I'm a pessimist. Anything that involves you landing on a hostile planet is probably a suicide mission. I'm just hedging my bets."
"'Cuz that makes me feel so much better," Drey retorted dryly. He sighed again and set the hydrospanner aside, grimacing and rubbing his aching knee as he considered. He didn't need the credits, not really. And it would probably be better to let his bad leg rest up a bit. He'd pulled it pretty badly back on Ord Mantell, and it was only just starting to recover again. His buir would be less than pleased if Drey ended up in surgery a second time because he couldn't stay off the injury for longer than a week. But if Mandos were going missing…
"What're the coordinates?" Drey asked finally. A series of numbers flashed across his second screen and Drey punched them into one of the many panels spread out before him, adjustments to the now half-disassembled holo system forgotten for the time being.
"Osik, what're you trying to do, ensure I freeze to death?" he accused, studying the planet's stats projected into the air before him. Sub-freezing temperatures seemed to be the norm, coupled with heavy snowfall.
"You have an environmentally sealed suit, Mando. A little snow won't kill you," his contact replied calmly, unruffled by the reaction.
"You do know I got shot, right? In the fierfekking knee?" Drey asked, craning his neck to look up at the projection of his contact. The Twi'lek just shrugged.
"Do you want the job, or don't you? You need a place to lay low, get the Black Dawn off your back for a bit. Nobody will be looking for you there."
"Yeah, because they're too shabla smart to go crawling around a massive snowball looking for a beroy'a with an osik leg. Only a di'kut would land on that ice ball willingly," Drey retorted.
"… So that's a yes, then?" his contact asked finally.
Drey sighed, running one hand through cropped blonde hair.
"Yes. Fine. But if I die on that ice ball, you get to be the one to tell my vode," Drey warned. His contact smiled noncommittally and ended the call.
"Chakaar," Drey muttered. "What do you think, Ka'ra?"
A quiet thump thump was his only response, and Drey looked back to see the dog wagging her tail as if in agreement. A long, spotted tongue dangled from the massive black dog's mouth as she cocked her head to the side, studying her master with a loyalty Drey had yet to see rivaled. He chuckled, shaking his head as he ruffled her pointed ears.
"Buir was right. You really aren't dignified enough to bear the name of a Mando'ad legend."
Ka'ra barked once as if in agreement, watching him as he punched in the coordinates to the planet his contact had pointed him towards before following him out of the room. She padded into the main compartment of his ship after him, meandering off when it was clear she wasn't in for a second meal. Drey let her go, ducking his head to avoid the low doorway of the ship's armory.
A large assortment of weaponry was spread out in the multiple lockers, chests, and shelves scattered throughout the room, but Drey crossed to one locker in particular. The door opened with a hiss, and Drey pulled out a set of long knives, snapping two into the heavy gauntlets on his arms, and proceeding to stash the rest in pockets and against the thick plating of his beskar armor. If he was going to a war torn snowball of a planet, he was going to have every weapon he could carry at his disposal.
The air was bitter cold, a harsh reminder of just how long it had been since she'd scrambled to her perch far above her team. Two hours of hiking through the skeleton of what had once been a thriving city, her city, and they'd finally been given their orders to spread out and wait for the enemy. The rest of the squad got to hunker down out of the snow, keeping their positions while staying out of the elements. Nikki, on the other hand, had the unenviable role of laying on the ice cold duracrete with sniper rifle in hand, allowing the snow to drift down and cover her as she waited for the perfect shot paired with the order given.
Nikke flexed her fingers slowly, one at a time as she tried to regain some feeling in the near-frozen appendages. She was careful not to move too far for fear of bumping her rifle or otherwise shifting the sight picture she had so painstakingly set up.
The small camp below her moved sluggishly, its inhabitants few and more than grudging to head out into the snow and cold. Not that she blamed them. So far only two of the four targets had made their way into her sights, and Shriek had yet to give the order. So she waited, watching her breath cloud the air around her, knowing she was too far above to be given away by it.
She ignored the way the jagged edges of the duracrete dug into her elbows, her own fault for being unwilling to use a shooter's mat. One more thing to haul around and less stable than just the hard, solid ground.
Nikki's comm crackled to life in her ear and she stilled, holding her breath in anticipation of the order.
::Nice and warm up there, Scorpion?:: the voice was jovial and Nikki answered with an irritated growl, recognizing her callsign and Kretch's voice.
Who had given him the fierfekking comm? Or had he hacked the thing again, leaving the squad leader out of the comm loop? It wouldn't be the first time, and it would explain why Shriek wasn't telling him to shut up.
"Can it, Kretch," she growled pointedly, knowing his callsign hadn't been of his choosing. It was a sore-spot she was more than willing to take advantage of at the moment. She wasn't in the mood for his jokes. In fact, she could completely understand why Viper had punched him out before. Shame she hadn't done it this time. "I've got a stun mode on this thing and I will use it on you."
::And risk blowing the op? Doubtful.::
"At least then I wouldn't be sitting up here getting snow down my back," she retorted, earning a snort in response.
Nikki rolled her eyes and settled back into position, trying to ignore her numb toes. Being squad sniper was a definite disadvantage when the rest of the team got to be running around, staying warm while she provided cover from above. One of these days Shriek was going to have to get her an insulated suit or she'd freeze to death. Not really the dignified end she'd been thinking of. Though at least her eyes would be closed…
::Squad, we've been given the green light,:: Shriek's voice cracked over the comms, ignoring the banter as if it had never taken place. Kretch had definitely hacked it, then. Nikki's attention snapped back to the camp below. ::Scorpion, choose your target and take the shot. Squad will follow,::
Nikki took a long, slow breath before letting it out, holding it at the very last second. Her sights steadied, settling square on the tallest of the targets. The cold was all but forgotten as she tightened her finger on the trigger. The frigid breeze pressed against her gloved hands, trying to find a way past the thick leather of the left hand that supported her rifle, nipping at her ungloved fingers on her right. Nikki blew a strand of gold hair out of her face distractedly, grateful for the breeze that caught the strand and angled it away from the eyepiece of her sight.
"Confirm order, Shriek," she spoke through her headset, eyeing the target. He was covered in cold weather gear, a thick cloak pulled up over the lower half of his face. Still she hesitated, waiting for the confirmation of a kill order. That action was something that couldn't be second-guessed or taken back. Once she pulled the trigger…
::Target confirmed, Scorpion. Take. The. Shot,::the words had more than a hint of irritation in them, bordering on anger. Nikki bit her tongue at the temper in Shriek's words. He'd been on edge for the past week, taking it out on the squad whenever one of them miss-stepped even in the slightest. It seemed it was her turn this time.
Nikki's finger tightened on the trigger and she drew in a slow breath, exhaling evenly as she waited for the subtle shake in her sights to level out. The crosshairs steadied and Nikki held her breath. This was the most crucial part, and she had to fight the tension that always threatened to take over her muscles in anticipation of taking the shot. Her target was still, a rare event, but not one she was going to complain about. She could steam curling out of the cup of caf he held in his hands, coiling around him like some sort of flimsy shield. It was the perfect shot. Still, her finger wavered over the trigger.
::Confirm, Scorpion.::
There was a moment of silence as Nikki watched through her sights, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.
::We have our orders, Scorpion,::Kretch's voice this time, a warning in his tone, all humor gone. He'd known her the longest, since the beginning. He knew her moods, knew when she was hesitating. Losing faith, even for an instant.
Nikki hesitated a moment longer, feeling the tension heighten. One slow movement of her finger caused her two-stage trigger to hit the trigger wall, a small pressure point built into the trigger mechanism meant to warn her that any more pressure would cause the weapon to fire.
"Confirmed, Shriek," Nikki answered finally, the moment of indecision passing.
She pulled the trigger.
A/N: Just a quick shout-out/thank you to those who have patiently waited for Hunter of Shadows to finally get off the ground. I'm incredibly excited to introduce Nikki and Drey (and Ka'ra, of course), as well as some later characters down the line. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!