A New Type of Mission

[Fyston]

OH COME ON, thought Krom as he continued to scrub his armor. To most people, it seemed in perfect condition, though the Epicanthix noted where the remnants of carbon scoring had ruined his paintjob. In order to properly repaint the piece, the entire plate had to be cleaned and this one spot had been impossible to remove entirely.

Taking a break from what was going to cause him to go insane, Krom looked out of the window at the setting sun with a look of sheer boredom on his face. His last mission had been completed and he had returned to Concord Dawn, though he hated the rural nature and the ever-present chores. Having to do manual labor from sunup to sundown limited his time for killing and, as he hadn't had a chance to kill lately, it was all that filled his mind.

As people walked back and forth outside, each preparing for supper or finishing up the day's tasks, Krom couldn't help but imagine how he would kill each and every one of them. He would never act on his urges, though it gave his mind something to focus on as opposed to cleaning his armor. No, it was something that he had learned to do when he was first told he couldn't simply kill everyone he saw and such mental exercises kept him sane when he had no chance to hunt.

The Mandalorian sat the piece of armor on the chair as he stood, hoping to find a better solvent that could remove what he saw as imperfection. As he made it halfway across the room, however, the alarm for his cookies went off, signalling that they needed to be removed from the stove. A slight hint of a smile appeared on Krom's face as he imagined dipping the succulent morsels into the fresh bantha milk that he had picked up after he collected his mission's reward.

The smile all but disappeared, however, when his intruder alarm, a series of low but annoying beeps, sounded that someone was coming to visit him. Letting loose a few choice words, Krom opened the oven and thrust his hand inside. His armorweave bodysuit and thick gloves protected his hands from any burns and the Mandalorian gently sat the cookies on the stovetop. Turning to face the door and bringing one of his B-8R pistols to bear on where center-mass would be on a standard being, Krom raised his voice to ensure that he was heard by whoever was approaching his door. "Come in, it's unlocked!" His door was always unlocked, though Krom tended to try to kill anyone who simply entered impolitely.

 

[Prudence]

Concord Dawn was a ways for the Mandalorian Duke to travel, but this was worth it. He'd read the files on the man that he was about to meet with, and where the man had come from. Honestly Kalan was surprised that the soldier had previously been allowed within the GAR, with his history, but that was no longer a problem. They had torn the Republic apart despite those who had doubted them, and now the Dominion stood on its own two feet. They had sent a call to every corner of the Galaxy, beckoning the sons and daughters of the Dominion to return, and return they did. The Mandalorian government now had an impressive standing army of the most impressive soldiers in the galaxy, one of which was living in the small house before him.

He pushed the release on the door, sliding it open, and stepping inside. He could hear further within the structure an alarm sounding to alert the occupant, or occupants, that he was present. Though he was wearing his CCT MK II armor, he could still smell the distinct smell of... cookies? Yep that was definitely cookies he smelled. Kalan's interested was piqued as he stepped through the corridors leading towards the voice that told him to come in. He had known that it was unlocked already, as he hadn't exactly waited for permission to enter.

As the Duke turned one last corner to reach he voice, he came face to face with a B-8R pistol pointed towards center on him. His lips twisted into a smile behind his helmet, as the reaction further solidified the opinion that this was the right man for his job. Kalan spoke very coolly, trying to keep the volatile commando from unloading on him, "You must be K." he turned his hands over, showing his palms to the commando as to prevent an aggressive gesture, "I am Duke Kalan Ordo, of House Ordo. I have something I'd like to talk with you about... that is if you're interested in getting your hands dirty."

 

[Fyston]

Kill
​

The thought crossed his mind as soon as his visitor turned the last corner. Being a psychopath killer meant that K had an impressive speed when it came to shooting and he could make a semi-automatic seem like a machine gun, if only until the bolts ran out. It was such a skill that he would have used, emptying the entire clip into the chest of his visitor before he could have uttered a word. He imagined the first bolt or three denting and then destroying the chestplate, the remaining bolts entering the soft flesh of the man, cooking him from the inside out and leaving his face and outward appearance mostly intact but rendering the inside of him a scorched, disgusting mess. A brief rush of endorphins flooded Krom's body and his trigger finger twitched rapidly in succession, tapping against the barrel of his pistol but never entering the trigger guard.

Taking a deep breath, Krom slowly lowered his pistol as the man spoke, carefully placing it back in its holster. The voice that told him to kill spoke to him in the back of his mind, though K focused on the cookies to avoid having to listen to them. The visitor spoke again, introducing himself as Duke Ordo. Krom had heard of the man, though his ears visibly perked up when Kalan mentioned getting his hands dirty. A grin crossed Krom's face from ear to ear and his white eyes lit up with sheer happiness. As if a kid in a candy shop, Krom's week was made and he couldn't help but get excited at the idea of killing again.

The Mandalorian grabbed two plates and two cups from a nearby cabinet and, adding a few cookies to each, Krom carefully filled each glass with a healthy serving of bantha milk. He handed a cup and a plate to his visitor and gestured for him to sit down. While he knew he should speak lest he be considered weird, Krom was focused on the mental images of killing that ran through his mind. He grabbed his own plate and his appetite only heightened as visions of sugarplums murder danced in his head. He sat down near his armor, the grin still etched on Krom's face.

As Krom spoke, he couldn't keep the excitement from his voice. "It's been a minute since I've gotten my hands dirty, who am I killing? Do I get free reign on how I do it? Where are they at?" Straight to the point, Krom wanted the details. He normally spent the entire trip planning on how to kill his target, meticulously going over every detail. While some thought that it ruined the fun, the security in having a detailed plan, complete with contingencies, allowed Krom to safely toy with his target and enjoy every second of the kill. While he waited for his newfound friend to reply, Krom dipped his cookie into the milk for a few seconds, allowing the milk to soak into the cookie without rendering it a soggy mess before eating the milk-soaked portion.

 

[Prudence]

Kalan was slightly confused by the warrior that he was meeting with. He'd read the file on the guy, and had known that he was an absolute basket case, but it was almost as if he mentally was a deranged child, trapped in an adult's body. Kalan accepted, warily, the cookies and milk that he was offered, and absentmindedly dipped and ate them as Krom enthused about Kalan's offer. He had thought the man would be quite the fit for Kalan's secret army, and it was panning out more and more that he was right. The Duke leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers and thinking over his words before he replied to the psychopathic killer that sat across from him.

"You get a lot more than that Krom." Kalan took a sip of the milk, wiping the milk residue off of his lip with his armored finger. "I'm not just hiring you for a job here. I'm putting together an organization, one that will operate out of the shadows and do the things that we cannot officially do, for red tape and public opinion." He fished around in one of his pockets and brought out a small datapad, and began flipping through it, speaking as he did, "Did you ever hear of the old Death Watch Krom? The scourge of the Republic? That burned through the Outer Rim and took back Mandalore? They were terrorists, yes. They were also violent and psychopathic, but what they did needed to be done."

He set the datapad down onto the table and turned it towards Krom, keeping his hand atop it for now though, "We need that in the Dominion. We need people who are able, and willing, to get their hands dirty for the sake of the nation, and for the sake of ending this manda forsaken war that's about to start." He slid the pad across the table to Krom now, "And that involves killing people, a lot of people. On that pad you'll find the information about a terrorist attack that needs to occur within Sith Space. A lot of people will die, not that I suppose it would be anything you might enjoy partaking in..." he feigned reaching for the pad to take it back, due to a perceived lack of interest from Krom.

 

[Fyston]

Krom nodded as Kalan mentioned that this was far more than one job. He had heard of the Death Watch, if only because Krom had fond memories of fighting them. Well, fighting in general. He spent a lot of time in the brig for fist-fighting during lulls in the fighting but the Epicanthix probably had numerous scars from fighting the Death Watch during their campaign to retake their home. It was part of the reason he had sought out the Dominion and was why he was here today.

As Kalan continued to speak, Krom listened and watched as the man slid the datapad across the table and, as soon as he could, Krom picked it up. He was extremely interested, as even most Mandalorian leaders had found him too unstable for having such responsibilities. It wasn't that Krom didn't know when to stop, it was that he had a different definition of what was too far. His white eyes took in every detail about the proposed terrorist attack and it was due to being so immersed in the datapad that he missed Kalan's approaching hand until it was too close for comfort.

In one smooth motion, Krom had again pulled his pistol from its holster and aimed it at the chest of his friend while also bringing the datapad closer to his side. At the same time, Krom spoke erratically. "No! This is mine now! I'll do it! Give me some time to prepare and I'll promise you you'll love watching the news." Having somewhat come back to his senses, Krom tapped his pistol on his head, clearly frustrated. He returned the pistol to its holster and sat the datapad back on the table, enabling Kalan to take it if so inclined.