RPG – Snatch the Diva (Page 2 of 2)

NAME: Devik Meejen

SPECIES: Spiner

SEX: Male

AGE: 26

APPEARANCE: Large, vaguely-canine humanoid. Roughly similar to a Bothan or a Shestavan, but for the countless quills covering each Spiner’s body. Spiners are more or less humanoid porcupines, even possessing the ability to eject these needles with considerable force by flexing various muscles. When not agitated, Devik keeps the needles laid flat, flush with his body. In this way the spines are hardly noticeable, instead appearing to be a segmented, glimmering coat. Devik in particular is rather small by Spiner standards.

WEAPONS: None

PERSONALITY: Devik is quiet and brooding, decidedly far too serious for his young age and limited experience. From the day he threw his first spine, he became fascinated and obsessed with mastering his genetic gift. For hours on end he would skewer makeshift dummies and pierce hand-drawn targets, dead-set on utilizing this ability to its fullest potential. After expending his body’s spines, the period of regrowth and waiting (about 1-2 days) were usually met with depression and impatient anxiety to resume his self-imposed, rigorous training. Even after finally being content with his skills, Devik was dismayed by the lack of use for them. Being what the Spiners would go so far as to consider an “expert” marksman, they tended to discourage violent or destructive uses of their god-given talents, fearing that the Galaxy would come to view the rapidly dwindling Spiner population as a virtual band of living weapons (not a very political move for a species lobbying for galactic aid to save their soon-to-be extinct species). Disappointed and a little disgusted with his species’ adoption of pacifism, Devik left the Spiners’ new home-world, Elrood (the original Spiner home planet was destroyed when the system’s sun went super-nova), and wandered the galaxy searching for a way to use and profit from his unique mastery of his species’ gift. Somewhere between then and now work changed from security, to strong-arming, to bounty hunting, and then to assassinating. The Spiner feels himself particularly qualified for the current assignment – Jaylah’s life – due to his ability to remain distanced yet deadly while on a planet that forbade the possession of weaponry.

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Devik sat patiently at the open bar set against one wall of the Yellow Crystal Arena’s meeting room. He hunched over his drink, trying to make it less obvious that his gruff, harsh visage had no business being in such an illustrious place as this. Or rather, he certainly did have business here, though none of it good. Or legal, for that matter.

The Spiner’s employer was uncomfortably anonymous on this job. After being given nothing more than a small advance payment as assurance of the sponsor’s legitimacy and a comm channel, Devik had been receiving his orders and details by short, concise text messages, which would then assumedly give him a drop location where he’d receive his payment. The system was unnerving, but the money was unbelievable, and the quill-thrower was willing to take a certain amount of risks in return for such a huge payday.

His plan was brutally simple. Wait for the show, get within striking distance, hurl a spine through her chest, and escape in the ensuing panic. The price of admittance was an unfortunate setback, but hopefully it would be nothing more than a drop in the bucket after his reward. In just the short time he’d been sitting and sipping his drink, he’d noticed a number of interesting events transpire around the meeting room.

Jaylah had been nearby not long ago, and it was all he could do to keep his youth and eagerness in check. She was in sight but not within range of his quills, and her Trandoshan bodyguard would likely feel some kind of way about someone getting up and rushing his employer; and Devik’s needles would be but hail on a rooftop to the reptilian’s thick scales. And so the Spiner waited, checking his chrono in obvious boredom. This show couldn’t start soon enough.

The only other notable occurrence was a tall man in conspicuous Mandalorian that had abruptly stood and thrown a dagger at some small device on the meeting room wall.

Way to be subtle. As if that accomplished anything. Devik had thought, shaking his head at the insignificance of it all, it’s the meeting room of one of the largest theater’s on Alderaan, of course there’d be security devices. All you’re doing is showing everyone on this peaceful planet that you’re armed, and inciting hostilities right out in the open, in broad daylight. Not to mention now whoever was monitoring these cameras before he destroyed it knows his face and that he’s hostile. How stupid.

Just a moment later the same man leapt forward, drew a knife, and slammed a man against the wall, pressing the blade to the surprised man’s throat. Devik thought the man might’ve said something about calling AlderSec, but he couldn’t be sure from this distance. He strained his ears:

“Yes, you can…but you won’t.” The tactless knife-wielder threatened. Everyone in the room couldn’t help but notice the blatant offense taking place, and watched on in horror as the armored figure left the room.

Maybe he won’t, but the dozen or so other bystanders will. Devik scoffed; he had no doubt that the police would catch up to the man with such an obvious description (not many men walk the streets of Alderaan in Mandalorian battle armor) before too long (and indeed they had, though in the end it was Kraddassk who would suffer for it).

Since then not too much had transpired, although the Spiner was sure others would be working to end the Jizz singer before or during the concert. For now he had to have faith that the diva and her escorts would keep her safe until Devik could make his move. He sipped again at his drink and sighed. Waiting was the worst part of his job