The Mercenary (App)

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IC Name: ?????
BYOND Key: Rhetorical Writer
Race Name: Alien
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Rank Alignment: ???

RP Goal: (Waiting on IC interactions to make one)

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RP Sample of Social
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Rain.
It came down constantly...
Staining the very atmosphere at this forsaken city.
The many of the populace wandered it, each member devoted to their own destination-- Their own lives...
Umbrellas in the rain... All, aside from one, cloaked in shadow-- In hood and shrouded mystery.

While the many abroad had their lives to enjoy... This one, had only a mission to carry out.
Where they moved without the slightest reason of concern, one moved with cold, focused fashion.
There was no reason to fear, for their mission had never faced failure to date.
Not a single hint indicated reason for one now.

--And so, with time, the individual paused before the individual of interest.
Their ruby pupils reflecting the back of their prey, glaring into them, ever silently.

"So... You came." The stranger spoke, pivoting slightly to acknowledge the cloaked individual.
"It took you long enough." The silent interloper held his glare, attempting to get a good read on his target.
"You'd think the whole exaggeration on your speed would make you a little more timely." He jabbed, aiming to rile a response out of the mysterious figure.

"It's no exaggeration." They responded solemnly.
There was a brief pause, the staring continued-- And what would've typically been an awkward ordeal had begun to fester an uneasy dwelling from within this 'person of interest'.
The twitching expression on their face was clear, it was getting to them. Before...
"--WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! WALKING INTO -MY- CITY, LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE!" They exclaimed, prying the attention of passerbys, and hastening their efforts to vacate the general scene.

These people knew this individual, which meant that this encounter was bound to turn.
"DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM?!" He growled, growing flustered.
"I AM, THE ONE AND ONL-"

"Scalpel: Mob Boss of East Mercury City. Race: Tsujin. Age: Fourty-Three. Height: Eighty-two centimeters. Bounty: Twenty-two million petals." The cloaked figure interrupted.
Scalpel froze, taken off-guard, but it didn't last too long.
"This is where your story ends. Surrender, and I will make it quick."

. . .
Silence, had never been so tense.
. . .

A shuffle for one's pocket from Scalpel's end, earned the cloaked figure's response in the form of a step forth-- But it was seemingly too late, they had already taken out a blaster. Its trigger readied, and plasma load primed aimed for this would-be bounty hunter's head. "Too slow~." sung the cocky Scalpel, clicking the blaster's trigger with a happy-finger to unleash a sapphire stream of energy.
--To end it, before it could truly get any worse.
That was, but a part of why he was known as he was...
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RP Example of Combat:
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--But it'd result in, what he was remembered by.
For the blaster's shot, pierced the forehead of the bounty hunter...
--and soon, the image split asunder: disintegrated; merely an afterimage.

"Wh- What?!"
Confusion and wonder galore... But so curtly cut off by the condescendingly calm tone the hunter played off flawlessly.
"I told you, this is where your story ends." He assured.

He sidestepped it? With such speed, it couldn't be recorded by this poor man's eye.
"The difference in our leagues is simple. You will not survive this." They pivoted to fully face their target before leaning in. Eyes gaped-- and image vanished once more. Scalpel scanned the area frantically, too panicked to think straight only to have the image of the assassin materialize behind him. Slowly they rose an arm, fingers straightened for a clean chop for the back of the neck.

Reared, and ready... And finally, he swatted...
--But it appears that not all is as it seemed, for in the moment of his swat, came the moment of Scalpel's seemingly crazed pivot: Blaster-first.
Did he... Know?! He knew that the assassin would try this?
"A strike from behind?!" They exclaimed almost ecstatically, "THAT'S THE MOST CLICHÉD TRICK IN THE BOOK!"
The chop wouldn't connect in time, and the click was all one needed to know in that moment and time.

That... Was when it should've ended...
That... Was when the stream of energy should've shredded through one's skull...
That... Was it. The moment one had waited since the beginning: Sweet release.
Only one remained now.

Opening their eyes to bestow their gander upon the now-deceased, was a knelt assassin, piercing Scalpel's figure with the same hand-pose formed earlier: sharpened nails acting more like a unified lance in unison with his fingers and right arm.
Somehow, he dodged a blaster shot from point-blank!
Even moreso, managing to reposition himself to strike in the same moment?
Time couldn't allow it...
Time... wouldn't allow it.
Time...

"Time's up." The nameless assassin looks into the blank eyes of his victim: Mission accomplished. He picked himself up, heaving the body off with his shoulder, so that gravity may take it down-- easing the removal of his arm from the corpse.
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Backstory:
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????? is a member of the Kaytoss race. Their ilk known to have a psychic entanglement with the space-time continuum. So strong in fact, that it serves the limited number of their kind, the ability to toy with their own pocket dimension. Despite the fact that their manipulative grasp on such is extremely limited, it still allows them to initiate extremely impressive feats, such as briefly transporting between it and their original dimension, and even skipping, storing or slowing time.

Their kind is solitary, leaving many and few far between. It is a rarity for two to usually meet, and even more so that they associate with one another. Their long lifespan however, keeps their population from dipping too low. Though, they lack much extensive and abstract grasp on technological advancement- thus, it is unlikely that one should ever surface with viable scientific knowledge to showcase.

As to the intentions of ?????, it still remains unclear.
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