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Lucius Kane

Bounty Hunter, Space Marine

135 views · located in Taylor's Bar

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by NotAFlyingToy

Description

Rise Against wrote:Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time,
Turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach.
Another clever word sets off an unsuspecting herd,
As you step back into line, the mob jumps to their feet.



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Personality

I’ve crawled out of every scum-filled rock you could ever dream up, and I crawled out of them swinging. I’ve taken every scar, every bruise, every beating that you could dish out and I’ve walked out laughing my ass off. I wear every one of those death-filled days with content, with damn-near happiness to be along for the ride. So don’t talk to me about no war. I’ll give you a war.

See, these rebels… pirates, what have you. These are the warm ups. The space pirates that zip around the galaxy blowing up ships and stealing fool’s gold. They ain’t the real threat. Not hardly. The real threat shows up on our motion trackers and disappears. The real threat can zero in on a squad of fifteen men and have it cut down to the strongest in a blink of an eye. Carsius V, Titanus, Lupin. These planets fell to the real threat.

Funny how I’ve visited them all.

So you go fuck up some pirates, boyo. You take them and you stomp on them with all your might until something gives. You divert necessary troops to that worthy cause; keeping the galactic government safe.

I’ll be here, polishing my gun, doing my rounds, running, jumping, lifting, anything that will give me the slimmest chance in combat with the real threat. And when I’m done, I’m going to pack my gear up, go out there, and kill them.

I’m going to kill them all.




[font=Courier New]The following is from a database that the Agency keeps on all of its

Equipment

Excerpt from Military Journal 2011, Present-time.
Subject: Dr. Thomas Light, Doctorate, Roboticist.
Article Published: October, 2010


"...and now on to the Sledgehammer, one of my favourite pieces of technological marvel. This sleek black design doesn't just look pretty; chemical and theoretical tests have proven that the Sledgehammer Mk. II is one of the toughest combat-materials around.

Made of solid Pandorantheum; a metal recently discovered by American miners, this set of combat-armor exists for one purpose; to take a beating. The result of the eleven-year Sledgehammer project combined with the new discovery led to the Mk. II. As of this writing, it has been used on four major fronts by one of our most esteemed test subjects, one Lucius Kane, and has sustained even the toughest attacks. One such attack came in the form of a bear; a massive creature whose razor sharp teeth managed to scratch at; but not dent the Pandorantheum. It has endured rocket blasts with mere soot remaining, countless bullets, rocks, fists, and plasma bolts. The result is a fully functional suit of armor with a need of a new paint job. Nothing more.

The patented design allows the user full 360 degree use of all of his limbs, with the application of specially placed insulated padding at all major joints. Inside the armor, our B-Safe gel quickly assists in the rapid healing of wounds in case of suit breach, putting the afflicted areas into a state of numbing coma until the time where medical specialists can be contacted. The suit also allows for metal clippings for weapons; two on each thigh for pistol use, two on upper back for sniper rifle/assault rifle, and one on the lower back, designed for shotgun use. These clips work well with other Pandorantheum weapons, but are coated with magnetic chemical for other weapons' easy access. This is one design flaw that I find impossible to overlook, however. If one were to use an older style weapon, such as the M14 or the AK-47 with these clips, they have an extremely high chance to jam.

The only other flaw I can forsee going into battle wearing the Sledgehammer Mk. II is the rubber seals. These seals (located on the knee joint, the elbow joint, and near the groin area) are virtually undefended. If a stray bullet were to graze them, the punctured suit (or in case of the groin area, punctured testicles) could result in a lower combat efficiency, or even a mortal wound.

All in all, the Sledgehammer is a remarkable piece of technology with..." -Continued on Page 2-

So begins...

Lucius Kane's Story

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Another day. Another boring, arduous day of a mysterious caller, telling him a time and a place. Honestly, the only way it could be worse, and more cliche, was a call from a fucking phone booth. Still, it paid well, taking care of other people's problems. Especially troublesome problems.

"So you don't want her dead," Lucius had said, his fingers rubbing restlessly over the hardwood table, staring at the plain-faced man.

"No. What happens to her along the way is... necessary, but we don't want the target dead."

Lucius rocked forwards on his chair, facing the man, his eyes suddenly interested. "What about if I get me an ear?"

There was a long pause on the man's end. He steepled his fingers, pressed them to chapped lips, eyes squeezed shut. Finally, he spoke.

"We have no immediate issues with that."


The weather outside was overcast and grey, with leftover mud that sucked at his boots. He decided that he should stealth it, today, and not call attention to his alloy plate armoring, covering it in a longcoat that was belted around his waste. The moisture on his shaved dome glistened in the dim bar light as he strode towards the bar, his eyes narrowed. He peered towards the small staff-only doorway, raising an eyebrow. He waved the bartender over.

"No, no drink." He said, with a dismissive flick of his hand. "I'm more interested in your staff. Could you let, uh, Lena Jamison off early today? There's a guy, said his name was, uh, Jaryd, looking for her."

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He scratched his shaved head, looking at her in shock. "He's never mentioned me? Patrick! Patrick Sharp?" He sighed, looking deflated. "I mean, I guess I've never really been a friend to him - more like an acquaintance, I should say. But there was that one time - I think... I guess you could call me an associate. Yes, that makes sense. I'm an known associate, slash acquaintance, of Jaryd."

He paused, and then started, as if he was aware he was wasting time. "Ohmygod why are we talking about this! Jaryd was heading into Wing City General, like, five minutes ago! Bullet fracture, they say, left shoulder. Some guy - big guy, grey eyes - was waiting for him, and he - oh god, Lydia, can I call you that - he shot him. Said something about a girl - 'Meena? Feenas?' Doesn't matter. I told him I'd come and tell you!"

His patience, ever near the end, was running thin. Still, he put all of his old student into the act, the man who had been found in his bathtub, heavy slashes through his wrists. He had been murdered for cowardice, and justifiably so. Lucius' fingers in his left pocket thumbed the paper harder. If this last feint failed to get her outside, he was going to have to go with Plan A.

Come on, you stubborn bitch. Let's get a move on.

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He nearly laughed at his success. There it was, the non-thinking instantaneous reaction that he had expected from the get-go. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe she was as weak willed as he had initially assumed, though quite possibly far more intelligent. He started fantasizing about what he was going to do with the money as he attempted to bring his knee up against her midsection, to seperate them a little. He knew that he could finish this with his range, keep her on the defensive. Her knife would cause some damage if she struck one of the rubber joint-pieces of his armor, though.

After the knee-jab, he would attempt an open palmed smack, to the throat, though he was terribly off balance.

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The momentum aided him more than he could ever see.

He allowed the kick to shove him, even as the second guy (where the fuck did he come from!?) burst into the bar, making some sort of... bull charging noise. Or maybe it was his imagination. Whatever.

As he fell backwards, the knife grazing the tip of his nose, he pivoted, transferring his momentum away from the second man. As the man's foot came out (Dude's blind - this must be Jaryd) he twisted, making it hit him in the upper shoulder. The cane went wide because of his manoeuvring, grazing his closely shaved head.

He finished his downward motion, supported on his hands. With a snarl, he lashed out with his foot, attempting to sweep Jaryd's leg from underneath him, marvelling at the bastard. He was unable to see, and yet could pinpoint his location with ridiculous ease. He'd have to be careful.

Plan A wasn't looking so hot, anymore.

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The kick to his knee dropped him like a sack of hammers, and he instinctively rolled away from the blow. The stool shattered on his left shoulderblade, the head of it hitting just under his protective padding, and he winced hard. That would bruise in the morning.

He leapt to his feet without using his hands, wincing slightly at the pain in his unarmoured back knee. He shook his head, and put his hands to his sides, his smirk dissappeared as two revolvers hissed into position in their holsters.

"Two against one ain't fair." He said, drawing the weapons. He fired a hail of bullets wildly at the couple, hoping to drive them apart, give himself some breathing room. The blind guy he would have to watch out for.

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He had been watching her.

His eyes had never travelled far from her form, and this time he threw that 'appreciative' crap out the window. There wasn't room for attraction anymore. This wasn't a game. What he should've done was parked himself across the street with a high powered rifle, aimed through the window, and smeared the walls with her blood. Any sane man would have said 'fuck the rules' and just shot her in the leg, dragged her into his van, and drove off.

But he wasn't sane. And he needed the money.

So that's why he found himself in his patched up suit of armor, a pain between his legs that had only recently turned to a dull ache, and a scowl almost permanently on his face. He had his usual kit, including solid rubber casings reinforced with molten plastic along each and every joint.

He was ready for her, this time.

As she slunk over to the bar to order a drink, he finished his whiskey, straight. He didn't bother with disguises or accents. The whiskey sat in his stomach and made him mean, made him angry, adding to the fire of fury that he had been nursing ever since a certain gunshot was released from a certain female.

There would be no introduction, he decided, opting to make his move.

He stood from his perch at the front of the bar, and began walking towards her, his footsteps steady and heavy, his eyes bloodshot and bagged. With one hand, he shoved her upper back, moving to push her face onto the bar, as the other hand drew his Glock and pressed it into her spinal column.

"Get up," he hissed.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Gambit's Hotel, 10th Floor

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He had chosen this place because he wanted to instill fear. He wanted to make sure she knew that she wasn't safe anywhere; not even in her own room. He would find her and brutalize her in every manner save the few that had been denied him. So when he dragged her in front of the wooden door, he thought a good start would be to use her as the door opener.

With a mighty heave from his grip on the back of her hair, he slammed her face into the space where the doorjamb met the frame, watching with some satisfaction as the door popped open. With his gun hand raised, he stepped into the room, squinting down the barrel, his face a hard mask.

"Shall we begin, pet?"

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He didn't answer immediately - at least, not with words.

He raised his pistol, smirked once, and fired three rounds at her leg in rapid succession. He fired another one at her other leg while moving towards her.

"I want you to suffer." He said through clenched teeth, his eyes blazing now, emotion conquering him. "And suffer you will."

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When she had been thrown to the floor, combined with the force of himself being thrown upon it, had knocked off a bowl of strange powder, littering the wooden floor. The bowl was upturned, the black contents in a dark pile up and to his left.

He didn't answer her immediately. Shit, he wouldn't answer her at all if he had his two cents. He just scooped up a handful of that black powder in his fist, lurched forwards in a quick and agonizing move, and overhanded the powder right towards her face, watching it spread in the air.

A less damaged man would've completed the crouch-roll he attempted next, utilizing the forward momentum, but Kane was not a less damaged man. The result was a half flop on his stomach, that he managed to turn into a roll, hoping to get out of her line of fire should the powder fail.

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He was completely shocked by the move, and almost dropped her in his surprise. She was limp. Did he choke her out?

He lifted one hand and slapped her across the face, sharply. When she didn't stir, he nearly sagged with relief. She had taken a hell of a fight out of him, to be sure. He stared down at the limp figure, once again admiring the nearly flawless skin. He grinned to himself, deciding that he'd deal with this then and there. Collect that goddamn money that he had been owed since day one. And oh boy, did he fucking need to collect.

He turned, and unceremoniously threw her onto the floor at his feet, kicking her once in the head for good measure. Briefly examining her, he idly wondered whether or not he should take his prize. Her hair had fallen just so, and those marvelous shell-shaped ears were just begging to be taken.

He held himself in check, turned around, and began looking for some duct tape.

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He rolled on his hands and knees as the knife struck him on the jaw, leaving a jagged line cut up his jawbone, ending at his ear. With his one hand, he wrapped fingers that felt too heavy around the hunting knife, and slowly, agonizingly, pulled the knife out of his shoulder. With a final roar, he ripped the last two inches out of his arm, foam, blood, and pus falling out of the room in strings of liquid that shimmered in the low light. He started a low chuckle.

"Kill you..." He panted, shuffling towards her on his knees. His eyes burned bright, now, his gaze roving over her face, examining the damage, imagining what else he was going to do. "Kill you, kill you... Kill you..." it became a chant through the huffs of laughter, picking up steam as he crawled, using one hand for leverage, the dripping gore from the knife hitting the floor in time with his jerky, frustrated movements. His laugh became a rolling cackle, rife with pain and anger, the knife driving high above his head.

"Fuck the money!" He roared, and attempted to plunge it into her the side of her ribs, his face open and exposed with the aggressiveness of the gesture. The gore on the knife made it slick, and it began to slip before it reached its intended target.

The setting changes from gambits-hotel-10th-floor to Dark Woods

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Code: Select all
"Shielding at twenty-two percent and falling. Left thruster knocked out. Speed at forty-five... fifty... sixty five..."


Kane shut off the annoying fucking voice, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply as the Prison Escort Rabbit plummeted earthward. Gritting his teeth, he fought with the pilot stick, desperately trying to gain altitude as his last thruster gave out with a sputter. Smoke whirled behind the ship and the instrument panels sparked and flickered, changing a multitude of colours they were definitely not designed to do.

He glanced behind him, towards the storage compartment where his partner rested in Cryo sleep, their cargo across from her in chains. It had taken a lot of good men to capture the bastard, and here they were; spiralling out of control on some planet because of a lucky shot on takeoff.

Kane took a single moment to glance towards a small device, strapped into the co-pilot's chair. He had a decision to make. He wasn't landing - not easily, with the storage compartment intact. They'd promised each other. The device was the priority.

With a muttered curse, Kane pressed the "Awaken" button, and then flipped the eject switch, and the storage compartment released with a hiss, letting his partner and the cargo fling off, earthbound without thrusters. With the lessened load, the cockpit straightened slightly, still crashing, but a much more pillowy landing.

"Sorry, Ariel," he muttered, as the Rabbit soared over the Dark Woods.

The setting changes from dark-woods to The Ruins

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"Shielding at twenty-two percent and falling. Left thruster knocked out. Speed at forty-five... fifty... sixty five..."

Kane shut off the annoying fucking voice, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply as the Prison Escort Rabbitplummeted earthward. Gritting his teeth, he fought with the pilot stick, desperately trying to gain altitude as his last thruster gave out with a sputter. Smoke whirled behind the ship and the instrument panels sparked and flickered, changing a multitude of colours they were definitely not designed to do.

He glanced behind him, towards the storage compartment where his partner rested in Cryo sleep, their cargo across from her in chains. It had taken a lot of good men to capture the bastard, and here they were; spiralling out of control on some planet because of a lucky shot on takeoff.

Kane took a single moment to glance towards a small device, strapped into the co-pilot's chair. He had a decision to make. He wasn't landing - not easily, with the storage compartment intact. They'd promised each other. The device was the priority.

With a muttered curse, Kane pressed the "Awaken" button, and then flipped the eject switch, and the storage compartment released with a hiss, letting his partner and the cargo fling off, earthbound without thrusters. With the lessened load, the cockpit straightened slightly, still crashing, but a much more pillowy landing.

"Sorry, Ariel," he muttered, as the Rabbit soared over the Dark Woods.

The ship skipped once over the rocky ground of the ruins area, before skidding to a halt in the hard earth.

Cursing and spitting, Kane kicked open the cockpit, dragging himself out of the cockpit, slowly filling with biofoam to prevent fires. Landing on his back, he stared at the sky, breathing hard.

"Fuckin' money ain' worth it." He muttered. "Fuckin' nothin' worth it."

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With a lurching stagger, Kane made his feet with the help of his assault rifle, his movements slow, as if he were afraid of breaking something. Finally gaining balance, he rubbed an armored hand over his short cropped hair, examining the damage. This fuckin' thing would probably never fly again, looking at how crumpled the hull was and the damage to the thrusters after taking off. Groaning slightly, he kicked the hull in frustration before wandering around to the side.

The device was gone.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck fucking fuck." He muttered, making sure that the rifle was loaded before staggering off into the distance. Over a short rise, there were three people standing around, hands folded as if they were saying some prayer. Four humans lay around them, strewn in positions that said they were shocked, taken unaware at the time of death. Kane's mind whirred through the fog, deducing that the group were assassins of some stature.

"Anyone seen a metal box aroun' here?" He hollered at the three, his rifle firm in his grip, pointed to their right.

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Kane lowered the rifle to one hand, dropping it to his side as he limped towards the group, wincing with each step. When he came close enough to actually parlay with the three, he glanced around him, taking in the controlled carnage. It was almost bloody artistic, the way that the group had taken out the humans. He whistled through his teeth, his dark eye moving back towards Kolyat.

"Hot damn, but you guys do good work." He said, nodding. "Can you boys help me with something? I

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Kane lowered the rifle to one hand, dropping it to his side as he limped towards the group, wincing with each step. When he came close enough to actually parlay with the three, he glanced around him, taking in the controlled carnage. It was almost bloody artistic, the way that the group had taken out the humans. He whistled through his teeth, his dark eye moving back towards Kolyat.

"Hot damn, but you guys do good work." He said, nodding. "Can you boys help me with something? As you can tell, I'm pretty new to this here planet. I need a medical center, a clothing store... civilization, really. It's kind of a big deal."

He reached into a pocket of his armour and withdrew a card, showing it to them. On it were black bold lettering.

Code: Select all
Government of Kiali, Arghos Ro cluster, Importance clearance Class 3.

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The bounty hunter held both hands out in front of his chest, as if pushing something away. "No thanks. I don' shake hands of people I just meet. Call it caution, but you look like you could snap my arm clean off with or without the stormchaser's armor."

He rubbed his chin with a gauntleted hand, the slight whiskers rasping against the metal, making a slight skitching sound. "More business, huh? Well, tell ya what." He held the card out towards them. "This card is from the government of the system of Argos Rho. That means they're very, very wealthy. The man I'm looking for has offended the system greatly, starting some war somewhere... I'm fuzzy on the details."

"Anyway, galactic importance, blah blah. Point is, they're willing to pay. Willing to pay lots. If ya were t'help me on this quest, I'd be grateful, and so would Kiali." He raised an eyebrow. "Takers?"

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Kane nodded at the three, calculating the way that they looked between one another. They moved as a unit, as if they were bred to kill, maim, destroy. Lethality in every breath, deadliness personified. That's what they were.

They were perfect. But first he had to convince them of it. With a nod towards the three, he began walking in the direction of the city.

"Thanks again," he called, waving behind them. "I anticipate your call."

Walking onwards, Kane fantasized about a few things. The first? A hotel, a hot shower, and some civilian clothes. The second? His hands around Cogor's neck, strangling the shit out of him.

The setting changes from the-ruins to Wing City

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Kane had just finished his purchases - a bomber jacket, jeans, and steel-toed boots - and was putting sunglasses over his single eye when a woman's desperate shriek echoed through the city streets. Whirling, one hand carrying the burlap bag that held his armor and equipment, a mixed bag that was heavy against his shoulder. Adjusting the sunglasses as the woman blew past him, he saw the hulking... shark... men...

Shark men? Oh, shit.

Kane didn't run easily, and in this situation he felt like he wasn't able to function properly in a fight-or-flight exercise. He'd done something to his leg; that much was for certain, a deep ache filling it every time he even attempted to put weight on it. So running wasn't an option, neither was fighting - unless he got high. He was considering the buildings when he realized the Jaws-on-legs weren't shooting, or terrorizing; they were walking. Calm as can be. Like they were looking for someone. His pistol was firmly in his grip, held down to his side, as he began hobbling towards the two, eyebrows raised.

"This has been quite the day," He muttered, before stopping in front of the two. "Evenin', gentle... uh, fish." He said, sheepishly. "You look like y'ain't from around here. Can I ask ya somethin'?"

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Kane chuckled as well, though his own was a tad darker. After all, a bunch of massive sharks did just point their guns at him, and he wasn't appreciative of it. Though, he supposed, if a random man came charging up to him waving about and saying that he had questions, he probably would have reacted the same. The way that the shark men held themselves sparked something, now that he was in close. He'd initially assumed they were some kind of mutated Terran shark, that had gained flight somehow - maybe stolen a ship? But up close, he recognized them from his travels.

The Derith. From the looks of things, a squad, which meant that there were more nearby. The gears of his brain began turning slowly, thinking of how he could use this to his advantage.

"Of course, and I have questions of my own." He said, puzzling over why they would be looking for him. And then the whole crashing-ship thing dawned on him. "Er, do you want to do this here, in the middle of the street? Or somewhere less... uh, open?"

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Kane shook his head. "All due respect, but I've learned my lesson when dealing with ships. Never go on another man's ship without good backup." He gave the shark a lopsided grin, heading towards the building, leading the way. "Better this way. Neutral ground. Neither of us can pull funny business. That is, of course, assuming you don't have snipers everywhere." He shot the man a bemused expression as he entered the doorway of the dark building, waving his hands at a homeless man.

"Scram, kid. I got hungry sharks with me."

When he was inside, he turned back to face the shark-man. "Fire away, chief. I'm all ears."

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Kane poked a burned out barrel with the toe of his boot, lifting it to check for grime. When he found it satisfactory, he kicked it over and lowered himself on it, straightening out his bum leg and rubbing it absently. He grinned up at the shark. "Straight to business? Alright, I like your style. My name is Lucius Kane; I'm a bounty hunter, currently on contract for a world in the Argos Rho system. The job, along with eight other bounty hunters, was to subdue and apprehend a dangerous suspect who threatened Galactic peace. Nobody knows his real name, but he operates under an alias; Cogor."

The word was spat from his mouth like a poison. "Needless to say, Ariel and I were the only survivors. Something fucked up in transport, though; our thrusters pushed us into the atmosphere of Terra and held us here. By the time I had overridden the locks, they quit on us, and sent us crashing here. Now we're stranded, and Cogor's loose on the planet. We need to get him back, get paid, save lives. The whole shabang."

He paused. "Though, you should know. The criminal had a list of planets; what he saw as a "hit list" of places he wanted to systematically destroy. Deri was on that list."

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Kane blinked. "Well, the first priority isn't the man himself; Cogor's a dangerous son of a bitch with a sadistic streak, but by himself he's just that: dangerous to people. He has a weapon, though; a device that even UCON scientists can't crack. It amplifies Cogor's abilities, makes him stronger. We're not sure how, exactly... but he can... control people with it. It's hard to explain. When we found him, he had an army of minions that just threw themselves at us, delaying us until he could get into a better position."

Kane ran a hand across cropped hair. "The device was lost in the crash; and that's my priority. We'll get the bastard, but with this device, nowhere is safe. Not even the farthest reaches. And especially not Terra."

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Kane shook his head. "Ariel can handle herself. And if she can't, hey, more money." He said, simply. He rose to his feet, testing his bad leg. "Right now, our full attention should be on that device. If we get it, Cogor can't. If he does, this situation gets a lot more..." He searched for the words, distracted by a spiderweb crack along the ceiling.

"...Interesting." He finished. "I'm at a disadvantage, my friend. You know my name, but I don't know yours." He stuck a hand out, palm open, intending to shake.

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Kane nodded quickly. "Alright. I'm gonna go get this leg looked at. How about we meet up tomorrow - at dawn. I'll be in the Hotel Wing City; meet me there, and we'll begin the hunt. I have a few ideas of where to start." He said, grinning.

"It'll be good working with you, Captain."