- Joined
- Sep 30, 2011
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Pain...
Red, pulsating waves of agonizing pain... Flashing through his mind like burning cold shards of ice. Something warm seeped down his forehead. Blood. All over his face. Gradually, sounds began snaking their way back into his ears. A screaming, howling emergency signal. Flashing red lights. He coughed. Blood stained the dashboard as he did. Opening his eyes, he blinked hard, but all he could see was a fuzzy double image of the ruined cockpit of the Cydonian Claw. He tried to breathe, and coughed. The air was thin. As if there was no oxygen left, or very little of it at least. His lungs were burning.
Gutterson gradually became aware of the surroundings. There were dead bodies on the floor, wearing the camouflage painted armors and the unit insignia of Carrion Crow, the mercenary unit he had built with his own two hands. Limbs detached from their host bodies, blood staining the copper colored metal floor, the walls, the dashboard - even the windshield To his right side sat the sparking remains of what had been Jeeves, his bodyguard and assassination droid. There was a big crack in the windshield in front of him, and sparks were raining out from a broken piece of wall, where wires were hanging out. There was more smoke than oxygen in the air. A fire was burning somewhere. In front of him, a flashing display on the dashboard said;
Life...support system...failure?
Slowly, he began to truly grasp what it meant. As he did, his memories came flooding back. A mission to Mandalorian space. It was a ruse...a trap. There had been a bomb onboard the Claw. He could smell iron in the air - blood. Lots of it. He groaned as he tried to stand, but fell backwards to the floor when agonizing pain rushed through his right leg and his stomach, all the way up to his spine. As he fell backwards, he coughed up blood, and his hands wandered, and realized there was a piece of razor sharp shrapnel prodruding from the side of his torso. The pain hit him like a heavy fist right in the head.
"Ugh....caff...." He gritted his teeth, stained red with blood, and slowly managed to pull himself to his feet despite the burning pain. He slumped back into the chair, punching a button. Nothing happened. The world around him was getting darker and darker. The flashing red light died out as well when the last ounces of electricity onboard faded away. The howling signal continued. He wasn't sure how this was possible. He didn't care.
In the darkness, suddenly a tiny flame appeared, only to disappear again moments later, leaving behind a single circular, glowing piece of fire. Gutterson took a breath on the cigarette, and exhaled. He gritted his teeth as he did. Even breathing, even inhaling tobacco hurt like one would not believe. He looked down, and realized he was literally drenched in blood. He prayed it wasn't his own - but judging from the piece of metal sticking out his side, chances were it was. That was a lot of blood for a man to lose...
He leaned his head backwards and closed his eyes. The time had finally come. It was his turn. Throughout his career as a mercenary he had seen thousands of people die. Thousands of brothers in arms, fellow mercenaries, die in battle. He had always survived through skill or just sheer luck. He even survived the bloodbath on Coruscant. So many missions. But not this time. His time had finally come. He would die there today. He had come to terms with it. There was no way of escaping this time. His friends, and brothers in arms were dead anyway. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.
He took another breath on the cigarette, leaving it in his mouth, teeth gritted in pain.
Suddenly, he spotted something outside the window.
It was a ship.
A Mandalorian war ship.
Well, shit..., was the only thing he could think.
His hand managed to grasp the slugthrower in his leg holster, and pull it out. He wouldn't go down without a fight.
Red, pulsating waves of agonizing pain... Flashing through his mind like burning cold shards of ice. Something warm seeped down his forehead. Blood. All over his face. Gradually, sounds began snaking their way back into his ears. A screaming, howling emergency signal. Flashing red lights. He coughed. Blood stained the dashboard as he did. Opening his eyes, he blinked hard, but all he could see was a fuzzy double image of the ruined cockpit of the Cydonian Claw. He tried to breathe, and coughed. The air was thin. As if there was no oxygen left, or very little of it at least. His lungs were burning.
Gutterson gradually became aware of the surroundings. There were dead bodies on the floor, wearing the camouflage painted armors and the unit insignia of Carrion Crow, the mercenary unit he had built with his own two hands. Limbs detached from their host bodies, blood staining the copper colored metal floor, the walls, the dashboard - even the windshield To his right side sat the sparking remains of what had been Jeeves, his bodyguard and assassination droid. There was a big crack in the windshield in front of him, and sparks were raining out from a broken piece of wall, where wires were hanging out. There was more smoke than oxygen in the air. A fire was burning somewhere. In front of him, a flashing display on the dashboard said;
[WARNING! LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM FAILURE! WARNING!]
Life...support system...failure?
Slowly, he began to truly grasp what it meant. As he did, his memories came flooding back. A mission to Mandalorian space. It was a ruse...a trap. There had been a bomb onboard the Claw. He could smell iron in the air - blood. Lots of it. He groaned as he tried to stand, but fell backwards to the floor when agonizing pain rushed through his right leg and his stomach, all the way up to his spine. As he fell backwards, he coughed up blood, and his hands wandered, and realized there was a piece of razor sharp shrapnel prodruding from the side of his torso. The pain hit him like a heavy fist right in the head.
"Ugh....caff...." He gritted his teeth, stained red with blood, and slowly managed to pull himself to his feet despite the burning pain. He slumped back into the chair, punching a button. Nothing happened. The world around him was getting darker and darker. The flashing red light died out as well when the last ounces of electricity onboard faded away. The howling signal continued. He wasn't sure how this was possible. He didn't care.
In the darkness, suddenly a tiny flame appeared, only to disappear again moments later, leaving behind a single circular, glowing piece of fire. Gutterson took a breath on the cigarette, and exhaled. He gritted his teeth as he did. Even breathing, even inhaling tobacco hurt like one would not believe. He looked down, and realized he was literally drenched in blood. He prayed it wasn't his own - but judging from the piece of metal sticking out his side, chances were it was. That was a lot of blood for a man to lose...
He leaned his head backwards and closed his eyes. The time had finally come. It was his turn. Throughout his career as a mercenary he had seen thousands of people die. Thousands of brothers in arms, fellow mercenaries, die in battle. He had always survived through skill or just sheer luck. He even survived the bloodbath on Coruscant. So many missions. But not this time. His time had finally come. He would die there today. He had come to terms with it. There was no way of escaping this time. His friends, and brothers in arms were dead anyway. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.
He took another breath on the cigarette, leaving it in his mouth, teeth gritted in pain.
Suddenly, he spotted something outside the window.
It was a ship.
A Mandalorian war ship.
Well, shit..., was the only thing he could think.
His hand managed to grasp the slugthrower in his leg holster, and pull it out. He wouldn't go down without a fight.
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