Él Bastardo
By: WitheredWriter
It went straight through, clean and easy. The final round jammed the gun, and so he went on to his pistol’s slide, cocking it back. While he casually does this, he glances up, putting up an unsettled expression in his face, seeing an ominous figure coming towards him.
Then, Silence.
Ignitrasen systems, one of the largest companies to fund many space stations in the constellation of L’anau’n. Most of the stations were built on a frontier of an expanding constellation, bearing either blessings or curses in the frontier. Fast forward to the year of 25XX, where Ignitrasen goes forth with its scientific endeavors, concerning the new frontier, making new breakthroughs from synthesized organisms found in the frontier. As a result of such successes made by the company, some of its stations had expanded, creating new departments and career opportunities to ensure the sustainability of the station. Commissions bay, Medical bay, Hydroponics bay, as well as Security bay were introduced. From there, the story revolves around a contracted delinquent in the Commissions bay. It was that worker from many lightyears away, originating from the initial constellation where humans had originated. He is Fernando. A Spanish descent, probably European. He possesses a square-shaped head, with his short and wavy black hair, a proportionate face with a constant intimidating expression in his face, regular amber-colored eyes that are almond-shaped, as well as a baritone voice. Moreover, he has a slightly bulky frame, and is around the average height of 5’7”. He currently wears his casual, red plaid shirt with its sleeves folded, dark-blue jeans with a toolbelt attached around his waist, worn laced dress shoes, as well as a hazard vest. He sits around a large space of the bay. Its walls are welded with light-gray composite alloys, as well as regular, smooth steel flooring. Surrounding him would be a couple of unclaimed containers from other departments on minimalistic shelves. That was his job, either helping with the logistics or sending unused crates made out of plasteel to sell back to their station’s central command. He was just about sitting idly, with his body bent forward and leaning passively on his lap, a little unhinged but his mean expression that always seems to be stuck on his face makes it less obvious. A lot of things run through his mind, mostly about getting an escape route after successfully pulling off an assassination attempt over the Security bay’s head of staff. From there, he clasps his hands before fondling his hands passively as he goes through an elaborate plan of going silent. A flash goes off Buckled in a space shuttle, proximate to a wide row of comfortable black polysynthetic seats, and with its interior possessing the same materials that compose the commissary bay, except it was plaster white, just scrolling through his personal communications tablet, albeit a modified one, provided by a syndicate organization, among many in the L’anau’n constellation.
Fernando scrolls through his current contract, showing a batch photo of security officers that went to some academy, probably somewhere around the Federal sector. Senior lieutenant H’zaet, the man placed in the hit list, under Fernando’s hands.
He blinks, darting his eyes. He was thinking about it thoroughly as his colleagues passed through, going with their duties with inventory checks. He then finally reached to a conclusion and decided to supply himself with minimal equipment to carry out a very large task. He casually stood up and went to the surveillance room.
A small confine of a monitor-filled room. There were a couple of cameras that are still in service, hence the rooms of the quartermaster, the lobby, as well as the main space for the containers can be seen through the flatscreen monitors.
In front of the monitors is the control box for the cameras and monitors, with a surface to spare to place any items onto the box. A chair is placed neatly to the box, and so Fernando goes over to take a seat. He wastes no time and takes out his modified tablet.
From there, he uses a spacial force crystal to teleport a Makarov pistol, a suppressor, an electromagnetic jamming mechanism, as well as a couple of cylindrical high-explosive sticks.
Still facing his equipment, he then darts his eyes towards the door in front of him. He then scrambles to fit everything in the satchel, spare his Makarov and suppressor, where he fits the suppressor to the pistol and he holsters this in his shirt’s inner pocket.
The door opens from the surveillance room, and Fernando’s head peeks out from it, with his head glancing from left to right.
Not too long after, he goes out of the room casually before his confident composure gets slightly janked from his colleague’s sudden appearance from the corner of his eye, greeting him.
A Huvic feline. His fur’s tone is colored black, with him wearing overalls and a pair of heavy-duty, digitigrade shoes. He then turns to Fernando, greeting him with a warm smile.
"Fernando! Glad to see ya!”
“Are things good?” Fernando says, standing as casual.
“Oh, just the usual business. We need to meet our quotas unless we actually want to be S’tae’s’aa fodder” Sean prompts, pulling off a baffled look afterwards. It made Fernando grin, breathing off through his nostril once.
“I will be handling the desk and the printer now, just handle the crates for now” Fernando prompts, with Sean moving out of Fernando's sight. “Great! I’ll be seeing you guys around” Fernando then moves about the bay’s facade, scanning the lobby and with its public 3D printer.
The lobby’s design is mundane and the only thing worth noting is the clerk's desk, where a glass-covered counter separates the lobby and the other interior of the bay, leading to the records and operating consoles. Its surrounding aesthetics is similar to the cargo space of the bay, with its usual composite materials and steel flooring. People are piling up at the front of the clerk’s desk, and so Fernando goes ahead and manages the queue.
Being an easy and reasonable person, he approved of the crews' orders and told the whole queue that their orders were on the way. The workers were glad to hear it and started chatting among themselves. Fernando walked back to the supply room afterwards, and picked up a couple of tools, and spare parts in order to do a slight modification to the public printer.
The modification will make the printing process faster, and efficient when it comes to material costs. With the spare materials in his hands, he wastes no time and goes through the machine, with some of his colleagues in the background, on forklifts, moving the crates to the facade.
Fernando was on his left knee, disassembling the console, trying to re-route wires and overriding the machine's motherboard. Before he could completely fix the console, a constable barges in.
"What's the meaning of this?" He asks. The lithe, tall man in smart casuals: white shirt and a tie around it, blue slacks, and good looking dress shoes.
"It's okay. Relax, officer, I'm just fixing the machine." Fernando says candidly.
The constable doesn’t seem convinced, forming a puzzled look on his face.
"I don't think so, come with me."
Fernando stands up, forming a slightly snarled face.
“Warrant? Do you have a warrant to arrest me? This is against my rights, you know."
In a nick of time, an attorney -- in bureaucratic wear-- happens to stroll by and chimes in when he overhears Fernando’s argument. He then peeks over the lobby, bending his upper body, seeing Fernando and the constable sorting things out.
"Woah, woah, woah, settle down, constable. You're tarnishing the guy's rights" The attorney said, barging in the scene as he comes close right next to Fernando.
"You're getting stressed out from a technician doing technical work? Seems arbitrary to hold this guy for a detainment process." The attorney sternly remarks.
The constable calms down a bit, seeing the point of the attorney.
"This shall be noted" The constable remarks
."Oh sure, suspicious is the technician working on ACTUAL MACHINES, but okay" The attorney scowls, with the constable pausing for a short moment before it leaves.
The attorney turns back to Fernando, and pats him on the shoulder with his left hand.
"Sorry about that. A rookie, psch. Don't worry, you're fine now" the attorney pauses, fishing through his inner coat.
"Here's my card. You know where to find me" The attorney says as he passes his business card. "Gordon Jameson, at your service. I will be in my office if you need legal advice." Gordon prompts, flashing a short grin.
Fernando, still looking a bit rustled, darts his eyes before his composure goes at ease. He then gives a short sigh. "Gracias", with Gordon responding: "De nada." and smiling afterwards before he strolls off back to his office.
Fernando stands there idly before going back, to modify the console. Sean sees this and was impressed seeing how skilled Fernando is with this. "Nice!" Sean beams as he looks at his work.
"Not too hard, it's just another day for me" Fernando responded as he screwed the last screw on the console before turning it on again. The catalogue lights up, signifying he had succeeded. He browsed around the console's catalogue, confirming the success of modifying the printer. Without any other expression but Fernando’s cold glare onto the machine, He remarked: "That's about it"
"Hey, got any more plans aside from this?" Sean queries.
"Just a short break I guess, I think it will be fine if you'd go to yours" Fernando responded.
"Not a bad idea. Hey, I'll catch you later I guess"
He says to which Fernando replies: "I'll be around, no problem, no problem".
Sean leaves the bay, leaving Fernando by his lonesome, just pacing shortly around the main interior for a short while before he heads to the main halls, in order to intercept and observe the head of security, if he gets a chance to do so.
Fernando leans onto the light-green composite wall behind him, and crosses his arms. The faint and or choked sounds of crowds over the distance fills the atmosphere, as well as regular, trashy pop music. Proximate to him would be the station’s cafeteria, with some of the crew going through a beeline between their respective departments and said place.
Gordon, emerging from the cafeteria’s entrance spots Fernando, with Fernando possessing this reserved look in his face. Gordon walks over before he leans onto the wall, right next to Fernando, with his hands in his suit’s pockets.
Silence was broken, with Gordon smoothly asking: “Huvic ladies, are you waiting out on the gals?”
Fernando didn’t break his contact with the cafeteria across from him, but he did dart his eyes to Gordon once, and back to the cafeteria once more.
“Maybe... maybe yeah, maybe not.” Fernando remarks.
“Security and bureaucracy. It ain’t like brie and wine, but it in a sense, it’s like gin and tonic” Gordon says.
“It works though?” Fernando remarks.
“Sometimes if the security bay is hiring unregulated security personnel. That’s where I save you guys, from their hands, yeah?” Gordon remarks, looking over Fernando.
“I guess… but the frontiers, you people in suits are better off with the Valsir sector, no?” Fernando says.
“I mean, I scared off an alleged unregulated cop earlier” Gordon remarks candidly.
Fernando takes his sight off from the cafeteria, and towards Gordon. He then goes off from the wall, giving out a stern posture and looks up to the lawyer, with Gordon slightly acting aloof.
“I can handle myself” He pauses, darting his eyes around before he glances down, patting Gordon’s right arm once. “Though I appreciate it, if it means to a drone and to a man on a silver pedestal” Fernando thanked, giving off a stern look, facing Gordon. Gordon gives this beamed look, eyes glistening a bit.
“No, it does mean something to me” He reassures, smiling.
“Thanks” Fernando flashes a grin in a split second, nodding his head a couple of times.
A choked sound of a blast tears through the mildly beaming halls.
The halls rumbled.
Suddenly an announcement goes off: "Alert, alert! Scrubbers are getting backed up! Close the air scrubbers this instance!".
"Fuck" Fernando blurted, with the two scrambling for their emergency, portable breathing masks.
“I’ll get you something good in the cafeteria after I deal with my client” Gordon prompts, before fully wearing his mask.
Fernando buckled his mask, trying to attach the pocket oxygen tank, before remarking: “Another ordinary shift. If the station is still in one piece, then let’s get smashed with C-C’s permission”
“Yeah, it’ll wait! See you!” Gordon blurts, scrambling off, not before he waves once to Fernando, before fully scurrying off.
“¡Hasta luego!” Fernando exclaims, before he goes on with his mask. Knowing that the station will be scrambling for the scrubbers, Fernando takes advantage of this, and tries heading to the halls leading to the security bay, while adjusting his breathing gear.
Crews were running in the halls, trying to get to their bays to get the scrubbers either have its vents shut or forcibly shut it by welding.
Then there it was, with Fernando going through an intersection, a huge rush of dangerous air envelops from the left halls and onto the intersection. Fernando closed his eyes and made his way to the other end of the chemical screen. Fernando rubs his eyes from partially getting chemical in it. Fernando grunts as he tries to shake off the pain from his eyes.
Suddenly, another figure from the other side of the hallway emerges. Fernando then faces up, looking at the figure from the chemical screen, beyond him. He freezes up, mouth slightly ajar, thinking whether his eyes are deceiving him, but the man that emerged from the chemical screen seemed to be... Fernando himself..!
He rubs his eyes again and this time his sight improves, seeing more clearly.
"¡Hoy, hoy!" Fernando shouts before his doppleganger sees him.
His doppleganger dashes through the maintenance hall and so he went for a hot pursuit. The floors clang with every step that Fernando takes, as well as the doppleganger.
When Fernando successfully catches up to his doppleganger and grabs hold of it, it sliced him with its arm blade, diagonally. With his machismo frame, Fernando turns his heels, curls his knee and does a round-house kick to the doppelganger, causing it to tumble down, furthering its distance before the doppelganger bolts off while being partially disoriented.
Once more, Fernando went for a pursuit. The doppelganger stops from its trail, rapidly turning and faces Fernando.
"Doppelganger!" Fernando shouted, pointing at it.
The doppelganger hissed and bellowed, charging right at Fernando. Swiftly enough, Fernando takes his silenced Makarov from his chest and shoots the monster, landing four or five shots at it before it slams its shoulder against Fernando, sending Fernando a few feet away, while causing the doppelganger to lose its stamina, making it kneel.
Fernando rolled around, facing right-up, only to find the doppelganger trying to escape. It was so fast, it disappeared in the darkness, leaving Fernando wounded in the hulls of the station. Fernando had this uncomfortable look, glancing over his cut chest, and back to the dimly lit, unsightly maintenance halls.
Fernando then stands up, immediately pockets his gun and flees the scene.
Bang! Clang!
Fernando stumbles over, and leaned against the worn and gnarly walls of the maintenance halls.
Debris. Of whatever luck the station is having to that day, it really seemed bogged, with all of the threats so far. Fernando then gains good composure of himself, before he snuck in to the left, leading to the halls near the medbay. Once Fernando opens the airlock, he checks whether or not the place is clear of security patrols. There was no wandering, at least.
The light-blue facade of the medical bay shines before the halls that are toned with red, being covered with the emergency lights, with a patient or two being admitted, being pulled with stretchers. Grimacing, in pain, Fernando cradles onto his open wounds, trying to look for a medical doctor.
Fernando had no luck whatsoever, with every medical staff attending to patients that were either gassed from the scrubber incident or hurt from the debris hitting the bay.
Buam!
Speaking of which, it still is going as Fernando shuffles around, losing blood. Eventually, he steps into the treatment hub, where the pharmacy is nearby. The treatment hub holds only a handful of medical beds, divided by now bloodied sterile curtains, but by that shift, the treatment hub had already reached its maximum capacity, with some of the doctors treating patients on stretchers instead.
With such luck, the chemist that handles the pharmacy leaves a couple of healing patches for public use. Fernando then goes over to the counter and takes a patch.
He applies the small patch on his chest, with the patch merging in his skin and binding whatever blood vessels, muscles, and skin that got mangled. Fernando has his face twisted from the excruciating pain, grunting and clutching, using his left arm and onto the counter. Once the wound closes completely, the pain resides slowly, gradually giving Fernando relief. He gives off labored breathing, leaning his body slowly against the counter.
From the back rooms, where the surgery rooms are, Gordon emerges and goes over to the pharmacy counter. His gray suit from earlier was gone, and he now has his white shirt left, bloodied, and with its sleeves up.
He goes past Fernando, patting him once on the back as he takes a couple of healing patches. Without breaking eye contact to the healing patches, Gordon chats with Fernando.
“The debris caught up to you too, huh? My client’s doing worse so… I don’t know” Fernando tries fixing his composure, facing Gordon, with discomfort written all over Fernando’s face.
“Listen… I have found a--”
Gordon puts both of his hands -- while the other hand filled with patches -- onto Fernando and prompts as quick:
“It’ll wait. I gotta fix my guy before this pirate band takes on the station. Let me at least grab my client outta here first, and we’ll talk about it in… "
He pauses, breaking eye contact with Fernando, before darting his sight onto Fernando again.
“Central? I think. I don’t know”
He says before Fernando moves his head a bit sidewards, giving a puzzled look to Gordon.
“Huh… Pirates?”
“Well, debris had to come from somewhere, and something tells me that the debris that struck us might’ve come from our own, and so you better prepare, go on and find an escape pod, we’ll both catch up after the operation!” Gordon prompts before he turns and walks briskly to the back rooms.
Fernando then steps out from the medical bay’s interior and out in the facade, trying to regain orientation. With all of the commotions getting thrown, left and right, all he had on his mind was his one objective: fulfill his task of assassinating the chief of staff.
"Delta alert!
Follow all instructions from authorities, any unrest shall lead to prosecution, follow the rules accordingly" The system blares its warning.
The void outside the station suddenly gets occupied with a small fleet of boarding ships, jumping from many lightyears away, and into the vicinity of the station. It only took a couple of blasting caps to breach the main halls. From there, S’tae’s’n’s and Slavic pirates poured in, wearing a variety of long coats, old European hats, as well as boots, while armed with rifles, mostly bolt-actioned and with bayonets fixed at the end of each and every barrel.
The security force was clearly outgunned.
Panning towards the Starboard side of the station, the station’s security sets a perimeter where it serves as a chokepoint for every personnel that wishes to go in and out of the station. Every constable, every war veteran, they poured into the chokepoint. Armed with energy rifles as well as semi-automatic defense rifles, they would meet an incredible force of marauders, armed with obsolete weaponry.
He was making his way through the line of defense, crouching. He then groups up with the warden as well as the jailbird, with their rifles mounted onto the sandbags. H'zaet, with his energy pistol in his hand, points it over the halls where the sounds of war cries fill.
FUOCO!! PYIW, BAUW!
Choked sounds of war fills the halls as Fernando makes his way through the ruined halls, the same halls that lead to the cafeteria. He surveys, moves his head around, seeing nothing but destruction in his wake.
Thinking that the head might emerge from the security bay anytime soon, Fernando makes his way to the halls leading to the intersection that leads to the chokepoint, as well as the security bay.
Sounds of blasts and bullet ricochets tears through the halls as Fernando paces forth. Before he could reach the hallway that leads to his task, a group of S’tae’s’n’s barges in with their rifles, making its way through all directions.
Fernando then encounters a rushing S’tae, rushing forth with its Mosin that has a bayonet. In a nick of time, he strafes, stepping backwards, before he socks the assailant. A loud thud follows after a hefty blow onto the fighter’s face, and from there Fernando takes the assailant’s hat and rifle, while the assailant was trying to regain its consciousness, writhing.
Building momentum, Fernando moves forth alongside the boarders, mixing in with the sounds of war cries, boots clicking onto the ruined steel floors, and the same sounds of small arms that rips throughout the station.
Wiring and pipes came crumbling down from the ceilings.
Residue continues to get strewn all over the security bay’s facade, with the bay’s front looking far from its fully-fortified aesthetics. The reinforced walls that divide the interior and the other confines of the station are partially torn down, with a couple of security guards armed with automatic shotguns leaning over the walls and shooting against the assailants. The cells and the blotter desk that is proximate to one another is torn down and unmanned, allowing some boarders to charge inside to ravage the inner confines.
Fernando emerges from the security bay’s passage, alongside a couple more boarders.
As the chaos unfolds, he looks from left to right, seeing nothing but halls that are being entered by the pirates.
Eventually, Fernando bumps into a Slavic pirate after turning back to leave the interior.
“Shto, nu, shto te takoy?” Fernando just stares at the Pirate saying nothing, before he tries to move forth, only to be blocked by the Slavic person. The Slav with a baffled look goes and puts a hand on Fernando, glancing up and down.
“Oy, shto ty!? Rabochiy k’a Ignitrasen?”
Fernando then struck the Slav’s face, knocking the Slav down. A S’tae then rushes forth, with its rifle’s buttstock pointing. Fernando seizes the pirate, doing a backward round-house kick. Causing the pirate to fall down and slide forward, just next to Fernando.
The stress caused Fernando to remove his hat, throwing it onto the ground, and spitting afterwards. Suddenly, two more officers emerge from the backroom, armed with riot gear and automatic shotguns.
Fernando freezes as he watches the two approach, doing nothing to him and instead, the two start blasting their way out, just past Fernando. Bodies of rugged pirates fall down near the facade and its entrance.
Behind the ruined walls, the remnants as well as the two new officers emerged and manned the front to repel more boarders.
In the midst of chaos, Fernando emerges from the facade, making his way through the carnage to seek the head’s head. Pushing forth through the ruined halls, now strewn with bodies and weapons, not to mention the thick screens of smoke that violates the halls, pouring in rapidly. Fernando stops on his track before he spots a silhouette behind the smokes, with its back turned.
It looked familiar to him, and the guess he’s having at that moment calls his gut feeling.
The shifter from earlier, but with a rifle’s bayonet embedded against the foul beast, being severely weakened, stunned in the middle of the chokepoint and carnage.
With a stern, combat stance, Fernando furrows his brows, pulls a Makarov out with his free hand, and shoots the monster.
The monster bellows whilst being struck a couple of times, but the unnerving, otherworldly bellow resides after Fernando’s last decisive shot struck the beast clean.
It went straight through, clean and easy. The final round jammed the gun, and so he went on to his pistol’s slide, cocking it back. While he casually does this, he glances up, putting up an unsettled expression in his face, seeing an ominous figure coming towards him.
H’zaet, with his face partially torn open stands before Fernando, only a few feet away. H’zaet, with his limited sight spots Fernando with a syndicate item, and strolls forth.
Fernando, seething with anger, grunts and ditches his pistol, grabbing his wrench from his toolbelt.
The head of security sprints and knees Fernando’s abdomen. Fernando lets out a groan, disorienting only for a moment, before Fernando swings his Wrench to H’zaet’s head, striking him, only to no avail of weakening H’zaet.
In turn, H’zaet steps back and does a swift roundhouse kick to Fernando, with Fernando blocking the kick with his arm in futile of reducing the might of a kick that possesses great energy, which knocks Fernando off his feet, making Fernando lose all of his breath.
H’zaet towers over Fernando, before he takes Fernando’s collar, lifts him up, and slams him against the floor, with a sickening thud occurring.
H’zaet then pulls Fernando’s back collar and strolls by casually over residue and ruins, trying to reach the departures. A corner stands between the intersection of the station, and so the head of security moves to the southern part of the wing, which was on his right.
When the head of security crossed the corner, a beefy S’tae’s’n, half-naked and holding an energy gun was scavenging the remains of the fallen security guards.
Time slows down, with the head of security glaring over the space pirate. A quick draw was initiated, but the head of security found itself lacking pace to match the space pirate's reflex. With both hands on the energy gun, the space pirate pulls the trigger and blasts the head of security. The shot caught him in the shoulder, and sparks flew from the impact. The head of security clutches his shoulder, rolling to the ground, losing consciousness.
The space pirate had already had enough with its boon, and so it makes its way through its beeline and bolts off.
From there Fernando lies in the halls, with the halls being filled with distorted sounds of combat that never seem to end, as well as malfunctioning wiring that flickers violently, protruding from the ruined walls and ceilings, that breaks serenity where Fernando is at.
Out of the blue, a couple of clacking shoes is nearing Fernando, before an arm grabs Fernando just to his armpit, lifting him up.
“Client’s gone. They stormed the bay…” Gordon explains as he lifts Fernando up.
“They.... they stormed the medical bay” Gordon blurts, with his voice trembling.
The both bloodied crew members limp through the halls that lead to the departures, where the emergency pods would be.
Other crew members went past through the pair, with some being pushed onto stretchers, and with some being lifted with their limp feet dragging against the floors. The moans, groans, sounds of panic from assistants, customs agents, even the remnants of the security forces fills the halls as they pour in, with all of them armed with a variety of weapons, spare the severely wounded.
Red lights shone directly onto the two as the carnage unfolds, with loud blaring sirens tearing through the once glorious, colossal station.
Darkness...
The sounds of emergency sirens got cut down.
Fin.