No Mercy, No Compassion, No Regret (Closed RP: Typho + Scynthe)

The two partners slowly made their way through the streets, always on-guard, and checking every corner. After their little debacle with the Bothans back in the cantina, Typho was sure that there would probably be an ambush attempt on them. What the attackers wouldn't realise, is that Typho had with him probably the best hunter of the GTC, and that no force could ever ambush Scynthe.

They continued walking for a while, before Typho's instincts, enhanced by his battle helmet, portrayed a thermal image that had two heat figures in the building to his right, a tall office building, and two more bodies in a building to his left. No doubt that they would be part of the gang that Typho and Scynthe had met earlier.

The Comitatus Vigo held up a clenched fist, signaling for them to stop. He was sure that Scynthe already knew about the hostiles, but it didn't hurt to make sure.

"Four contacts, two in the building left of us, and two in the right. They aren't very skilled at hiding. Take the two on the left, I'll handle the ones on the right."

Quickly, Typho hoisted his blaster rifle to his shoulder, and took aim at his enemies.

Typho immediately unleashed a volley of blaster bolts from his rifle, spraying the windows with blue light. The windows shattered, glass raining down on the ambushers and forcing them to move away into better cover. Typho pressed his hand up to his helmet and comm.

"I'll draw their fire, and keep it off you. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep their fire on me, so let's do this fast."

Before his enemies could recover, the Commander slowly ran to a durasteel trash compactor, large enough to keep his entire body out of harm's way. As Typho ran, he kept a contant rain of blaster fire upon his two contacts, keeping their heads down. One of the two tried to pop his head out of cover, to get a shot, and was met by a hail of blasts ripping into his skull. The man fell back, completely and utterly dead.

Typho immediately spun around, taking his aim off the remaining hostile in his allocated building, postive that the man would keep his dead down, lest he receive a fate like his associate.

"Affirmative, Scynthe. I'm on it."

Typho once again looked down his sight, and quickly spotted the contact that Scynthe was talking about. He was slowly moving towards Typho's comrade, keeping a steady aim in case Scynthe moved out of cover to open fire. Typho homed in on the enemy's position, carefully positioning his aim so that it had a clear shot at the man's chest. He did this in a matter of milliseconds. With an air of professionalism, the Comitatus Vigo eased his finger to the trigger, and sent off three rapid blaster shots, two to the man's chest, then quickly moving his aim up to spin one into the hostile's head. The man didn't know what hit him as he was flung off his feet, inevitably dead. Typho nodded, satisfied, and returned his vision to the remaining man, making sure that he hadn't tried anything.

"One target remaining. I want him alive. I'll keep his head down while you enter the building and disable him. Move."

"I read you, brother. Moving to your position."

Typho quickly made his way over to Scynthe, making sure to check any more ambush points and covering his advance with the cold edge of his rifle. He dashed from cover to cover, always stopping to peer out slightly and check for hostiles. An experience soldier never ran directly to hit target location. He always made sure that he kept himself and his men safe, always prompting for the safer route, even if it happened to be slower.

Typho walked over to Scynthe and their hostage, after arriving at their location. He nodded his approval to his brother-in-arms.

"Nice use of that flashbang. Caught him completely off-guard. Now, let's go have a nice little chat with our friend here."

Typho bent down, slinging his assault carbine over his shoulder as he did so and grabbed the prisoner roughly by his shoulders, dragging him upright. He sent a backhand to the man, making him snap out of his semi-conscious state (thanks to the efficient pistol-whip executed by Scynthe).

"Alright, my friend. I have some questions for you. Answer them truthfully and you won't experience more pain. Lie to me, and then we'll have a problem. Understand? Good. Now, first question. Who are you, and who were you and your colleagues working for? Remember to answer me truthfully!"

Trilo's body slumped and flew to the left as the blaster bolt entered his skull and passed out the other end, leaving two smoking, blackened circles on either side of his head. Typho reflexively jumped backwards and aimed his rifle towards the area that the blast came from, but no other shot rang out. The assassin must have gone. The Commander looked down at the dead shape of Trilo and then glanced at Scynthe.

"Well, this just got a lot more interesting. Something isn't right about this. The Intel we received prior to the mission stated that Valian Gryn didn't have any men working for him. In fact, it didn't really give us much information about what happened. Well, regardless, I still think we should head to our current objective and find out what Ma'atho has to tell us. Just be extra careful. We can't trust anything or anyone right now. Let's move."

Typho slowly slammed a fresh clip of special 7.62x51mm NATO bullets into his Eradicator XT-750S Blaster Rifle, releasing the blaster bolt cartridge from its holder. The Eradicator Blasters were unique in the fact that they were able to utilise metal rounds as well as blaster bolts. The 7.62x51mm NATO rounds would leave huge holes in their enemies' bodies, and even larger exit wounds.

The Commander looked over to Scynthe, as he pulled the slide on the rifle back, signifying that the weapon was ready for action.

"We go loud, weapons free. Give them no time to prepare. We'll be outnumbered, so we need the element of surprise assault with us, otherwise they might be able to get a defensive position set up before we create a breach. Let's do this, brother. You take left flank, I take right. Move."

The Commander walked up to the large Cantina entrance, where two Aqualish bouncers were situated, stun sticks grasped in their hands. Typho opened a secure comm channel in his helmet, so that only Scynthe would be able to hear what he said.

"Take the one on the right down. No noise. Aim for the head."

Typho didn't even bat an eyelid, or so much as hesitate over what he was about to do; he was too far down the path of a killer to care. Without warning, and with a cold, hard, emotionless precision, the Commander raised his XT-750S Blaster Rifle, aimed it at the Aqualish bouncer's head, and fired off a single round, which entered straight between the alien's eyes, and coming out through a large hole in the back of its skull. Knowing that Scynthe had the other one covered, Typho kept moving, stepping over the Aqualish's unmoving body and into the Cantina.

The Commander stepped inside the Cantina, quickly scanning the environment. All manner of aliens and humans inhabited the smoke-filled, loud, stinking establishment. A circular shaped bar was situated in middle of the Cantina, with three Twi'lek dancers spinning around erotically on a raised podium in the center of it. All manners of shaped and sized tables were sprawled around the building, with drinks of every colour imaginable standing on them, their owners talking or playing Pazaak.

Typho finished viewing the establishments, and instantly took up the common, half-crouched, half-standing combat position, Assault Rifle already shouldered. No doubt many, or all of the inhabitants here would be armed, and the Commander cared not which were which. They all were in the two GTC agents' way, and therefore would have to be eradicated.

With an uncaring, murderous calm around him, Typho opened fire, spraying bullets in every direction, shattering glasses and ripping into the drinkers, blood spurting out and covering the walls and tables in all sorts of shades of red, blue and black. Already a dozen individuals were sprawled across tables, chairs and the bloody Cantina floor, their bodies shaking, twitching, or otherwise deathly still. More and more inhabitants were being flung backwards or sideways, 7.62x51mm NATO rounds smashing into their largely unprotected limbs and torsos.

The Commander surveyed the massacre, his cold blues eyes and battle-scarred face emotionless behind the combat helmet. Dozens had been slaughtered, many with drinks in their hands or to their face, and had been unable to even react before they were gunned down. It meant nothing to the brutal, ruthless criminals, and the two men began slowly walking forward, undisturbed by the carnage that they had just wrought. Not even the dancers had survived, their bodies lying where they had, up until barely a few moments ago, been lively and active, their now-still hips swaying as they danced.

Typho smiled cruelly, thinking it ironic that these smooth, sexy females, who probably had never even touched a weapon in their lives, had been so carelessly and thoughtlessly murdered in cold blood. It was irrelevant to the Hunter and the Soldier, their minds only on their mission. The Commander stepped over the body of a Weequay, its lower half covered by a table that had been overturned. It looked dead, but as Typho passed it, it opened its eyes, and reached out, its hand fastening around Typho's armoured ankle.

It was unarmed and unable to move its legs, but the fact that it had impeded Typho in his mission was enough to warrant its death. The Commander lashed out, his foot smashing the protected boot into its nose. Blood spurted out from the shattered bone, and it loosened its grip on his ankle. The Commander looked down, before slamming a fresh clip of bullets into his XM8 Assault Rifle and firing a single round into the alien's head, another wave of blood splattering out and coating the lower half of Typho's leg. A large, gaping hole appeared on the Weequay's craggy face, and it fell back, very much dead.

Without so much as a hesitation, the Commander turned away from the bloody scene, and marched forward towards the hallway, intent on following the Bothans.

Typho double checked his Assault Rifle, removing the clip, then slamming it back into place, to make sure it wasn't jammed or empty. he pulled the slide back, his gaze moving up to face Scynthe, a half-smile forming behind his helmet and he nodded.

"You know me too well, my brother. Rules of engagement are Weapons Free. Give them no warning or chance to surrender. All contacts are hostile... Let's do this."

The Commander lightly punched Scynthe on the arm, hoisted his XM8 Assault Rifle to his shoulder, and slowly moved forward towards his current objective.Typho held his body in a half-crouch/half-straight position, giving himself a more accurate aim, and protecting his body more, at the negative effect of moving more slowly. However, in this situation, that was more of an advantage.

Typho soon reached his door, situated on the right side of the corridor, and check its locking mechanism; it was deadlocked. All of the Cantina doors were hooked up to one single Command Terminal, and if that had been set to deadlock, then every Cantina door would be as well. The Commander opened a secure comm channel into Scynthe's comm unit, and began a transmission.

"Brother, they've put the place into lock down. We'll have to proceed using explosives."

Typho reached into his utility belt and retrieved a Breaching Charge, which would blow a door off its hinges as well as simultaneously blinding any hostiles hiding behind it. The Commander quickly latched it onto the door, and stood back, off to the side, and pressed down on his detonator command control. A deafening explosion ensued, causing smoke to billow out. Before it cleared and gave any hostile behind the one intact door to recover, Typho charged into the branched off corridor, his rifle blazing.