The sound of blood was all that she heard, flooding her senses completely. She saw them, each of them, lying before them with broken limbs and scattered body parts. Heads split wide open, the origin point for all that red fluid. It was a sight she had become used to. She thrived on that sight, craved to see it. It was the only thing that confirmed to her safety.

Not this time. This time, they wouldn’t stay down. No matter how many bullets had been put in their bodies, they only shrugged it indifferently. Panic didn’t ensue until they were five feet away. Then three. One foot from her position. Rapidly moving towards her crouched form, arms outstretched to take vengeance for her cruel doings.

She opened her mouth to scream, willed her legs to carry her away. Neither action happened, leaving her defenseless as the first of the crowd struck. They held onto her throat with the intent of crushing her, fingers digging into the exposed flesh. Bruises and marks coated the skin immediately.

She gasped out desperately, clawing at their faces for salvation. To be saved from this living hell. When they held the bullet to her lips, she struggled harder. She knew what was to happen. For every corpse was a bullet. Every bullet would be force-fed as punishment for her crimes.

She gagged as the first point of metal was slipped in, throat constricting around the ammo of war.

Sable blinked.

Her breathing was irregular, sweat forming across her head. The rifle was still clutched in her steady hand and ready to fire upon their target. If, of course, the target was still in sight. She had spaced out again, and this time it was more than just a second.

One second was all that it took for her to be discovered, to be dragged out and shot on spot. She was lucky to be alive this time. No doubt Atreides was screaming at her on the other line of her earpiece, snapping out orders for her to take the shot already.

Gulping to catch her nerve, she looked into the scope of the rifle and located her target again. Good. He was still in sight. With robotic movements, she aimed for his cranium before silently pulling the trigger. She was unfazed as the bullet skidded into the man’s head, spraying blood out into the open air.

The color of it reminded her once more of her day dreams.

Colonel Atreides was watching the vitals that were being reported from the kit that Sable was carrying, noting her detachment from reality. That was not a good thing, and while he was not yelling, the soft speaking sniper officer was firm with his subtly accented drawl, something akin to old Earth southern.

"Sable, welcome back to the land of reality. Good shot on target, I'll take the last one."

The older man rose from his position, unslinging a far smaller rifle than his partner and apprentice used, but always seemed to keep up with, at worse. Much to the chagrin of many. It was far more readily handled and agile, and he crept across the rooftop of his location, settling in a different spot and casually setting his rifle sight for maximum distance. Which was quite a ways away, if one thought about it, but it was one of those kind of shots.

Some corporate clowns had went and backed the big dog for the hopes of scraps from the dinner table, but thse same fellows were not the kind of resources that certain fellows would want them having. So this one was the last, and from the panic, it was clear that they were expecting the shot to come from within the range of the sound barrier breaking, and the noise it crated, keeping up. This shot, not so much, as he zeroed it in on his target, making adjustments as needed. Wind, nil, gravity, already accounted for. Distance, several ticks up on the sight, he was locked in.

The rifle kicked against his shoulder as it fired, the round moving in agonizing slow motion, agonizing to some. He knew the shot was going to connect, so he watched the round spin slowly through the air, eventually burrowing into the last man's head, carrying the remains of his head and brains out the back, and Atreides exhaled, time resuming its normal speed. It was a sense of time that was as many parts natural as it was learned, and he had it bad. Just holding his breath made everything almost stop. Good for split second moments

"That is that, come on back over Sable. We need to talk."

“Alright,” Sable answered back over her earpiece.

Moving up for her crouching position, she didn’t need to see the sight of their former targets anymore. She knew that Atreides had no doubt taken care of the rest with quick precision. Now all that remained was to bear the scolding she was convinced her mentor would give her.

Slinking along in the shadows, Sable glanced up at the sky above. The night sky was blotted with lights, stars and other mismatched things found in the void of space. The surrounding area was the badlands located outside all the cities. It was a merciless desert of sorts that threatened to consume both traveler and bounty hunter alike.

They had made camp not too far away for this particular task about two days before. The mission was simple. Take out the men and steal the treasure they were hoarding. Probably manufactured weapons deemed illegal for civil warfare among one planet alone. Rumors of a super weapon being built by Unitech had been what inspired the two killers to pursue the empty outlands alone.

Deep Ground was but a joke in reality. Something to keep the public gauged with hope and delusions of freedom. In truth, they consisted merely of Atreides and Sable herself. No heroic rebellion. No self-governed militia. No actual chance of escape.

Still, Sable let the people believe what they wanted to. She had been the same way once upon a time….thoughts of her latest day dream caught up with her, making her tense all the more in anticipation of Atreides’ speech.

It took some time to get to the rendezvous point. Sable was first, as always. Crossing her arms, she glanced to where the two trucks had been parked, eyeing the fresh corpses that were only a good twenty feet away.

“He’s late as always,” she muttered to herself.

"Sable, I am here precisely when I intended to arrive."

Standing behind the apprentice was Colonel Atreides, standing behind Sable like he had always been there the whole time. A lit cigar was firmly held onto by the man, who was puffing smoke out in the cool air of the lot they were meeting up in. The entire worldly possessions that he carried around were firmly on his back, all concealed with some minor tech upgrades. Nothing fancy, just kept people from noticing the unusual. But they could not hang around, even in an agreed LZ spot, and with a nod, motioned for her to follow along. They could not afford too much attention being drawn on them or the organization, which was joke but a hope spot for folks, so it was left as is for their sake as much as their own.

"That dreamer routine you got going is not healthy, rook. What's the problem?"

The Colonel was concerned for Sable and her well being on both a personal, as a mentor, and professional, as fellow comrade in arms, level. They could ill afford either of them not being able to focus on the situation at hand due to strange day dreaming occurances. Another situation, he would be burying his partner. And that would not sit well with the veteran sniper. The man was not one for speeches, not without a damn good reason for it, they generally wasted time and were far wordier than any of them had any interest in dealing with. He could do the same with fewer words, therefor, it was more efficient and better than some big damn speech.

If the whole resistance movement was larger than both of them, he would consider more speeches or better ones already, but that was for groups. This wasn't a group, it was a partnership against a corrupt corporation, simple as that. Well, on paper, simple. In practice, it had been quite rough for both of them a couple times, got far too close to detection of capture. But they lucked out either way whenever the cards were down, and they kept slipping the noose whenever it fell around their necks. How long that would last, though, was anyone's guess.

"There is not any more work for us, not today, so we will have to hunker down then. And go into far greater detail on your day dreaming.""

None of it was a question, the Colonel was not needing an opinion on taking cover and night ops when he was assigned to both on a highly regular basis he cannot discuss. Not in this case, although he would routinely defer and let the rook think for herself and figure it out. It was a good skill to have drilled into one's head, as few times as possible. It was a long time ago, however, and now all it helped with was controlling and fighting corrupt corporations and organizations. Useful for where it came from, at least.

“You really need to stop doing that,” Sable commented dryly, noticing the self-imposed colonel spring up behind her. “Disappearing acts like that scare away potential recruits. In any case, it’s none of your business Old Man. The day dreams I mean. Just got caught up in the moment. Nothing special.”

Sable said all this even as she followed her mentor to their camp site. An abandoned wreckage of a large military truck served as their temporary stay for the night. The public didn’t know it, but they alone had been responsible for raiding the vehicle and stealing the supplies. The corpses had been disposed of a long time ago with only silence and darkness remaining.

Stepping inside the large truck, Sable noted its rather spacious interior. A small kitchen along with two restrooms and some bench couches were all that was here. No beds and no leisure. In hindsight, it almost resembled a traveling van families used to use on long trips and vacations.

So Sable was told.

“I’ll take the first shift,” she told Atreides, already setting up her rifle at the window pointing towards the cities to the west. “My gun will wake you up if something happens. And the day dreams? Forget about them Old Man. They won’t distract me this time.”

The planet's sun set over the horizon as a small but incredibly speedy shuttle darted across the waste land, only 20 meters off the ground. It's cargo was an Outer-City Patrol Unit. Heavily armed and armored, each man among them seemingly had enough fire power to level an entire (small) building. All of them had seen some form of action in the frontiers, battling against rebel groups. There where four altogether, none of which Jooker really knew, save for the Patrol Officer...Heinz?...Heynz?...it didn't really matter, who sat idly to his left, occasionally fidgeting from the jerking of the ship.

"Three clicks out gentlemen.", the pilot said over the sound system.

The Patrol Officer took his eyes away from the speaker, turning his head to the other Patrolmen, "Alright, check your primary, secondary, specialization. Tapdown your suits!".

All of the men began checking and rechecking all their equipment. Folding guns off their backs. If Jooker had been a deep thinker, he might have contemplated his life leading up to this point. But he didn't; he simply ran through procedures and readied his gear.

"We're dropping the scout.", as the voice rang out of the cockpit a subtle unlatching could be heard beneath the shuttle, "Scout dropped and inbound to hotzone.", the speaker cut-off.

Jooker thought about where they where going; probably some abandoned buildings, who they where killing; rebels...if they could find any, or whoever was unlucky enough to be around when they hit, why was he here; because people consider him pretty good at killing, so what else should he do?

"One click out. Prep for drop!", at this each Patrolmen turned to face out the open shuttle doors. Jooker got a good look at the abandoned relic of civilization they where going to be sweeping through. It was coming up fast as night fell over the hemisphere.

"Merely those who would not have the nerve for this kind of work anyways, dreamer. And frankly, it is my business. I won't see my teachings go to waste because you lose yourself to those again, and someone makes a canoe out of your head. Clear?"

That was the closest the older sniper would get to showing concern or affection on a usual basis. Atreides wasn't the sort for that kind of activity, and as she claimed first watch and continued on about him going ahead and forgetting about the day dreams, his head lifted and turned to the side, seeming to dismiss his apprentice for a few moments. He then unslung his rifle, checking to make sure it was loaded and ready for engagement. He heard the patrol craft before he saw it, which was not surprising considering how loud those things tended to get on a usual basis. Not too far off either, from the sounds of it, and he gave a brief aside to Sable before vanishing into the surrounding rubble.

"Patrol craft, probably a full compliment. I'll clip her wings, soon as I find her. You stand by to start nailing soldiers. Seems our little stunt got some attention after all, eh dreamer?"

The Colonel vanished into the rubble and woodwork of the doomed landscape, not even a ghost amongst the rubble, moving to avoid even giving the illusion of a spirit, long dead and gone, moving through the landscape. They wouldn't send rookies this fast, not the system he had rebelled against. No, a high profile hit like that would warrant the corperations demanding some good, well trained men be sent in. So he wouldn't treat them like fools or rookies. He never did, but now was more so a reminder of this then ever. He settled in an almost uncomfortable looking position, staring at the horizon through his binoculars, the scope of his rifle far too narrow to scan with readily. Before long, he caught sight of a familiar craft. Fast moving shuttle, low flying to prevent detection, smart in all senses of the word. But when hurtling right towards a sniper who had been applying his skill for the better part of well over 40 years, one saw a suicidal desire in that approach.

Setting his rifle back out, the aging Colonel zeroed his sight in on the fast moving shuttle, taking into account windspeed, velocity of both shuttle and round, likely composition of the front screen of the thing, rotation of the earth was negligible at this range, and other various factors one might have to worry about. Drop included. Breathing steadily, his mind zeroed in on the zone, as some called it, where everything seemed to crawl to a standstill, and a squeeze of the trigger sent the round out the barrel, recoil kicking into his shoulder as he watched the round fly outwards, losing tracking of it. The shuttle pilot would not see it coming, but the rest of the shuttle would no doubt realize what had happened to their pilot when that ride got a whole lot bumpier from the sudden loss of pilot. He exhaled, sounding off over comm to Sable.

"Pilot is KIA, watch the shuttle for survivors of the impending wreck. Let me know what you see, I'm relocating."

And with that, Atreides vanished into the rubble again, intending to move to a new spot rather than risk detection from using a second shot from the same spot, even if the odds of them realizing where it came from were next to nil. No taking unnecessary risks and chances, especially with so few of them around rebelling.

"Deploying in Twenty-fiv-", the Officer's orders where cut short as the shuttle jolted violently, it began careening forward at an increasingly unstable acceleration.

"SHIT PILOTS VITALS DROPPED! SHOT TOOK OUT AUTO!", the Officer relayed to his men, "BRACE, BRACE FOR IMPACT!!!", he screamed out to the subordinates.

Sitting at Jooker's twelve o' clock , Sergeant Derdan, met his eyes, just as the plummeting craft began a violent tailspin, before he was ripped from the improperly secured strappings, and was hurled like a rag-doll into the night. Jooker shut his mask, and clasped both arms to his securings as tightly as he could. While the world spun around them, Officer...Heinz blurted out something which was all too easily muffled by the chaos that had ensued. Directly across and to Jooker's left, specialist McLower yelled as if in some sort of agony. Jooker just stared up and watched it all fall away, normally this wasn't like him, but he had discerned there simply wasn't a thing to be done. He would worry after the dust settled.

Both the specialist and Officer took the hard-landing fairly well, not too many bumps and still hanging onto cognizance, Jooker however was totally incapacitated. In his dreaming he missed the Specialist's freak out, which ultimately led to him being shot as he tried to scramble from the wreckage. Which in turn took the Officer who was attempting to stop him. Honestly Jooker would've been pretty remorse had he been awake to perceive any of this.

Sable narrowed her eyes at her partner’s words. They had attracted attention? All they did was take out a supply vehicle and nothing else. Still, it was probably another round of Outer-City Patrol Units scouting out and hunting down rebels like herself. The assassin nodded to the commands, moving away from their temporary home to flank the incoming vehicle as best as she could.

She found a set of ruined stairs, barely holding up in the abandoned complex. Leaping onto each step, Sable rushed to meet the top of the decrepit building for a vantage point. When she did reach her spot, she moved her rifle in position, lying down on the ground and setting her shots up.

As expected, Atreides had already taken care of the driver and was on the move. The passengers would no be scrambling around and trying to figure out the origin of the bullet. Her right eye rested against the gun’s scope, ready to pick them off one by one as they exited the now out of control shuttle.

“Engaging target,” she relayed to Atreides robotically.

This was the Sable that was feared among Unitech’s ranks. The one called the "Silent Bullet". As cliché as that sounded, her actions spoke louder than her words ever could in more ways than one.

Sable clenched the gun, finger hovering near the trigger. She breathed deeply, waiting for the moment the men would jump out.

Steady….

She fired. One down. The sound of rounds clinking against the ground filled her ear. She fired again. Another one dead. Two more to go.

“Two more in sight,” she told Atreides, voice devoid of emotion. “Shifting positions from possible retaliation…now.”

Jooker stayed in his seat, secured by all the strappings. His head lulled about tipped right, as this was the direction the derelict craft tilted. The primary assault rifle had fallen from his grip, now resting flat upon the ground just outside the shuttles interior. He drooled a little from inside his closed mask; it simply could not be helped.

In his head, a fevered dream swept by, carrying a torrent of memories, at a sickening pace. Jooker remembered being held down and spit at as his lunch from "home" was stomped on, and he remembered hitting one of the offenders over the head with a rock. He remembered her embrace, her dark hair nuzzled into his right pectoral, she smelled so nice. He saw the light as cybernetics where quickly cut into his body, little robotic arms moving about his form. Falling, re entering gravity, pushed up against the webbing of the seat going planet side. Dashing into the night as rounds streaked overhead. His friend stumbling towards him, his left eye gone, horribly torn up, Jooker held him shaking.

Consciousness crept back into Jooker and he lurched his head up. "Eugggghhh...", he felt sick.

The Colonel overlooked the wrecked transport, and he could see it had not gone down nicely. Moving fast, the aging sniper was able to get into overlook to see the next two patrolmen get nailed by his apprentice. Good, and from the sounds of it, two more were left from her report. Slinging his rifle over his back, he produced an ancient looking weapon. It was still a single action revolver, that much was not wrong. However, the weapon was firing a modern ammunition, the closest analogue for quick thought was a gyrojet ammunition. The weapon fired with little recoil, only the kick of the munition rocketing itself out of the weapon, which made itself a rather high accuracy tool. Slow firing, due to its nature, but it was deceptively designed, and that had saved his life when modern looking firearms would not have been able to compare.

"Copy, two left. Approaching the wrecked craft now, let's see what's left inside..."

Sliding down the rubble, he trained the pistol on the one man who was left taking cover from the directional fire that had come from Sable, pistol barking as the round whizzed through the air, punching clean through the armor the man was wearing, the spinning and design of the munition burrowing through the armor and carrying well through it. Easy day, that one. No one else was surrounding the craft right now, just a bunch of corpses, and he moved towards the ramp, next round chambered just in case there was trouble inside the transport, someone hiding in wait to ambush either sniper if they came to smoke out any more survivors. He found a survivor alright, but from his position and groaning, he was in no position to really fight right now.

"Got a survivor, barely conscious currently, sweep and clear, then catch up. We take what we can carry and bug out."

Lighting a cigar the Colonel kept his revolver trained on the remaining trooper, not letting himself get distracted by the commonplace thoughts of how a man in such a position would be no threat, which usually preceded said 'no threat' turning around and blasting whatever was foolish enough to think that into pieces. RIP, indeed. But taking a trooper alive could prove useful, if for no other reason than information and bait. So he kept the weapon trained on the trooper, voice decidedly lacking in accent as he addressed the man as consciousness found him.

"Wrong day to come to work, son. No flashy, sudden movements. Hell, you can stay right where you are right now. Listen to me, and you might get to see someplace warm and safe again before the afterlife."

His head wobbled about, slowly bobbing in the direction the voice had come from.

"Heuh....ugh...", the sounds limply rolled out of his mouth. "Well aren't you just the kindess old soul then? Hehehe....", he still wasn't entirely sure about the emotions he should be feeling, rather he was running through all the possible scenarios to put down the bearded assailant.

But from his current spot; none existed, which wouldn't wind up with a bullet through his head. Best to comply and keep the enemy guessing as to how much of a threat he was.

His right arm rose to convey surrender, "Uh sorry about the other one...I think it's broken. You can shoot me if you think I'm lying, dying an honest guy can't be too bad."

Though Jooker's words displayed a calm disinterest towards his situation it only served as a mask, concealing the fear hidden much deeper down. Whoever these people where, he guessed them veterans in their respective career; experts. Jooker knew he was dangerous on some level but he'd never gone up against any real big contenders. This might be way out of his depth. Play it safe.

Sable watched the entire thing unfold even as she ran to a different location. Better to keep the enemy guessing her position to prevent them pinning her. However, she quickly discovered that Atreides had taken care of all but one. A possible bargaining chip or maybe even something more.

“Alright,” Sable replied back, emotion creeping back into her voice again. “Stand by. I’ll join you two shortly.”

The assassin leaped down ridge after ridge, descending down the abandoned ruin and eventually making it to the bottom. Night had completely fallen at this point, the moon giving off an eerie light in the badlands. Night predators were always an issue, though they tended to avoid spots of loud gunfire. Sable was more concerned about this survivor than anything else.

“Had to play the negotiator, huh,” she commented to her mentor after finally making it to his location. She gave Jooker a cold glance, swinging her rifle around steadily and aiming the muzzle straight at his chest.

“Go ahead Old Man, do your thing,” she said, not even acknowledging Jooker. “One move, and I rip a bullet through his body.”

The mask's red tinted visors regarded the girl, then back to the man, and again to the girl.

He put the question to her, "Do your thing?".

He had to admit; if anything put fear in him, it was the thought of being subjected to rebel torture. He'd heard the stories among other Unitech Army dogs about what happened to members captured alive. Brutal stuff. A shiver ran down Jooker's spine.

"Hey hey if it's info you're after I can already tell you I don't have a lot to offer. I-I'm just a dog. So if that's what you're looking for I'd appreciate a quick death.", he said regarding both the snipers.

It was at that very moment, where life had gone topsy turvey, Jooker began to think deeply. This was unusual for the man as of late, his thoughts being mainly centralized on the day to day necessities and or sleeping. He thought about each of the individuals who had just been lost. Reviewing how they had met, what they'd talked about, and the terms they had departed on.

Specialist Mclower, Frederick Mclower, he was about six-foot tall, was a lighter shade of brown. He'd always seemed fidgety, not quite manic just paranoid. Jooker had trouble recalling a definite age, but he pinned it to about twenty-five. Over the three months they knew eachother it was strictly professional. However two weeks past they had managed to talk for a good while, bordering on something of an aquaintance.

Sergeant Derdan, ??? Derdan, he never got a first name from him. Actually he never got anything from him, save for what could be seen. Derdan was tall and muscular, his skin a much darker hue. His green eyes where always tense, there wasn't much fooling around as far as he ws concerned. None of the former Patrolmen had known him in all good honesty. He kept his life and his work seperate.

Officer Heinz, Gerry it is Heinz, was the closest of the group to Jooker. Unlike in most military set-ups Gerry's title as Officer was not a preventative in fratrenizing with his men. He was roughly Jookers height at around five-ten, but his years showed. At the ripe age of thirty-six Gerry Heinz was a five tour veteran of the frontier. His skintone was similar to McLower, being a light brownish, and his hair had a kind of retro-look to it, all while being within regulations. He and Jooker got along without a hitch. They weren't close friends but they knew one another well enough to forego awkward meets.

All these thoughts swam about his head, as he stared off into eternity below his visor. The emotions started to take center stage as he realized his reality. It all came tumbling down as he lost his focus on the current, forgetting his enemies existence. God did his left arm hurt.

Boon-Pads, 3031: Corporal Jooker, Guireman. Army Heavy Infantry 87th Division, Gorgeous Company, 3rd Squad. Day 22, Log 9.

Just as the on base physician said, a Doctor Hoerez Xanders, I'm keeping tabs on the number of sightings and run ins with baby face. It'd been about four days since he last popped up, I was surprised I hadn't seen him for that long. This one wasn't anything special, same tree, same clothes, same porcelain baby mask. As always he just sat there and lectured me on more incomprehensible bullshit. I know for sure it's me under that mask, the doctor agrees, he says it's probably a genetic ghosting, a memory from the original copy manifesting as a warped dream. He says it's a way for my mind to make sense of info I never actually gathered through my own conscious life. I'm still not to worried about this honestly, and the way Dr. Xanders talks about it only helps to reinforce that these are pretty regular things to happen with Old-Genes. In about 500 hours, after EMR, I'll be headed to the Doctor to report the incident.

End of entry.

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