[i]In silence, he watched. Their technology probably wouldn't be enough to pick him up with his suit's dampening and cloaking devices on, but none the less, he did not want to run the risk. Moving cautiously, he headed towards the transports and the loading bay. [/i]
English
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"Heh, would you look at this?" [b]One of the men picked up Plasma Launcher[/b] "The Feds won't be expecting this." [b]He put it back in the crate[/b] "Let's get them inside." [b]They reseal it and four men begin to take it into the warehouse[/b]
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Edited by Trashcan Jesus: 2/6/2016 12:40:09 AM[i]He follows, waiting, making note of every movement they make. Slowly, he unsheathes his sword, and tails. Entering the main room, he waits to see the layout, and how he plans to do this from the inside quietly. Even with his invisibility and silence, he hides in the shadows.[/i]
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[b]The men stack the crates in the middle In the area, there are about 21 rebels assembled, chatting or resting They all carry rifles, always ready for danger[/b]
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Edited by Trashcan Jesus: 2/6/2016 1:13:16 AM[i]With that, he uncloaks, and spins his sword in hand.[/i] Look who's selling contraband behind the cafeteria! [i]Dropping three nine-bangers, he disappeared as the rapid flashes and resulting bangs overtook the room. In seconds, his blade was protruding from the chest of one of the men. Ripping it back out, he swung at another, the edge of the blade tearing across his throat. Drawing one of his magnums, he fired. Once, twice, thrice, four times, five times, six, and six men laid on the ground, a clean hole in each of their heads. Backing off for a moment, he disappeared, and reengaged his cloaking.[/i]
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"Where the hell did he go!" "Eyes open!" "Ross is down!" [b]They were thrown into disarray, firing at the slightest creak They began to surround the crates, forming a shield[/b]
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[i]Mere moments later, one is pulled forward into the darkness, and the man's scream is abruptly cut off with the snapping of bone. Another drops to the ground grasping his throat, a deep gash leaving his jugular spurting. Another follows into the shadows, the same snap following his futile screams.[/i]
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"Shit.... forget the crates!" [b]The remaining five rushes towards the loading dock, attempting to escape in the transport[/b]
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[i]He teleports, and momentarily is standing directly in front of their exit.[/i] Going somewhere, gents? [i]His sword is still in his hand, covered in blood. Crimson was streaked across his chestplate as well. Drawing his other magnum, he fired 5 final shots, hitting each man in the head except for the last, who he shot in the stomach. He needed them to find one, for he wanted to send the Rebels a message. Approaching the man who had been shot in the stomach, he holstered his gun, and spun his sword as to get the blood off of the blade.[/i]
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[b]He moved backwards, crawling[/b] "You.... bastard. Th e Feds sent you, Eh?" "Heh. Then maybe you can send a message back." [b]He hears a whirring sound[/b] "Hell is coming." [b]He shows a grenade in his hand, primed and about to explode[/b]
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[i]He jams the sword into the man's throat, and pulls sideways, severing his jugular as the grenade went off. Wolf's energy shielding absorbed the realitively small blast, and he stood over the mangled corpse.[/i] Allahu Akbar much? [i]Again cleaning his sword's blade, he sheathed it, and bent down next to the man's neck. Dipping two fingers into the blood pool that had formed, he scrawled a message on the ground near the entrance.[/i] [b][i]Who's Your Judas?[/i][/b] [i]With that, he walked into the building, and uncloaked. Quickly, he made contact with the man who had contacted him from the Federation, making sure that his channel was encrypted.[/i] Your little insurgency's got some big new toys out here... Plasma cannons, by the looks of what's in these crates.
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"Plasma Cannons...Hmph. A decent success, Wolf. We'll be better prepared in engagements in the future. Federation forces are in route to Julipse, and your payment has been transferred. If you find anything else, contact me. Null-1, Out"
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Roger that, you'll hear from me. [i]With that, he quickly looted each of the men he had killed, and disappeared without a trace, leaving his work to speak with his message. [/i]