[ WP ] Dragon . Wanted Alive . No bounty paid for a corpse .

'Whose fucked up idea was this?' 
 
 This captain of the mercenary militia had never been a particularly intellegent man. A man who enjoyed the hunt and even more so, the kill. He was especially good at killing. 
 
 CAPT. Charles'Char' Handel's forearms bared centimetre long scars, self inflicted in a spiral and in incredible number from his wrist to his elbows on both arms, each a notch marking a completed bounty. There were few killers in the Verse as practiced as Char... though this was not a termination contract. 
 
 His men were nervous... so was he, though his X.O. suppressed all signs. 
'It's going to see us Cap.' came from behind. 
'Why are we waiting?' from the left. 
 But Char had learnt long ago that the more time he had to size up his opponent, the better. 
 
 The beast was uneasy, moving sporadically, sniffing the air as though it knew something strong was close. Char grinned at this thought. It sped out from underneath an outcropping of rockwood and stopped abruptly in the centre of the valley. It stood the height of his entire company, 50 men stacked head to toe. Stunning emerald scales covered it's body and fractured the little light that streamed into the stoney valley and for the first time since he had recieved the ticket on their homeworld, Char knew why this'collector' would pay so handsomely. 
 
'Status report' Char thought to his second in command. The reply came through his implant as a feeling rather than words. He knew his men were where they should be: split in three at equal distance from their prey. He switched to global comms and broadcast his signature pep-talk. 
 
'The journey here was boring as fuck, our X.O's have been waiting for us, for action. We have our contingency plan, but the bounty calls for death first. You are here for currency, do n't forget that. There are hundreds back home who are waiting for a chance to take your job and your cut. On my mark, we will see if they are going to be needed.' 
 
 As adrenaline surged through his body his heart rate momentarily sped but his X.O. suit responded to this change quickly and restored his vitals to resting rate, though the adrenaline was still there. His senses peaked. And with a thought his X.O. swelled out of stealth to full power. 
 
'Let's stomp this blue-balled gecko' 
 
 On Char's command all three teams lept into action, the Ion drives of their X.O's leaving arcs of green light streaming through the dry night as they fell. Their mark was now aware, and was angry. 
 
 At once the militia fanned out to surround the monolithic being and motioned their X.O's leg servos into action, speeding in a circle around their mark. Jetting upward in opposite pairs they shot their cable-cannons into the beast, some into the ground on their opposite side. 
 In panic, the Dragon pushed off from the ground, hissing and roaring and spitting great tornadoes of blue flame, each surge of it's powerful legs tore those who were in the air toward it and into range of its razor sharp claws. 
 
 Swipe, slash, burn. This mark was a trophy. Char broadcast his resolve, his... amusement. 
 
 The air began to fill with screams and the smell of burnt flesh. Blackened body parts and blood, steel and sparks and green fluid all piled and tumbled away from the dragons throws... but still, Char's men circled. 
 They were well trained and well motivated: they were poor. 
 
 After half a home-hour of circling, jumping and shooting, a great net had been formed over the beast and its powerful limbs were beginning to falter, its throat glands dried of incendiary chemicals and it's shimmering blue bulk rested still and defeated but for the expansion and venting of its chest. Unsure, but confident at face value in front of the 20 left in his company, Char marched through piles of cooked Merc and smashed X.O. toward the pinned dragon and stood before the towering height of its cheek. He disengaged the X.Owrap from his left arm, unsheathed his dagger and sliced a notch low on his bicep. There was no more room on his forearm. 
 His men threw up a loud war cry as he lifted the dagger to wipe the blood on the dragons lip. 
 
'SHHHHHHHHH' He broadcast'Cryo this lizard fuck, salvage what's left of those X.O's and get ready for launch. Tonight, we get paid.' 
 
 
 
 
 TL; DR Sci-fi is way cooler than fantasy because it's actually possible. 
 
 If you bothered reading this, please let me know what you thought... I'm not interested in Karma I just like constructive criticism. 

