Few things energized him more than the hunt. The hunt to bring down criminals posing a threat to the Galactic Imperium, and those within its protection. The hunt of those running from the grasp of justice, running from their inevitable fate. Running, from him.
As he plugged a thin blue cable that was resting amid the myriad of small robotics in his chest keeping him alive into a matching port on the front of his holovid, a smile crossed his face. Just this month, he had apprehended three more criminals aiding in hiding Aetherials, and even managed to catch and kill one of those bastards. They may be magical, but they certainly weren’t omnipotent or immortal. That, he was sure of.
The holovid blinked to life, showing his vital signs as stable, no anomalies remained from the damage his body sustained in his last encounter with an Aetherial, and the core that powered the mechanical limbs on his body was fully charged. He unplugged it, let the cable retract on its own into its little compartment, and then donned a black shirt that he had hanging in his closet. Never one for fashion, he had many black shirts in there, as well as his Galactic Imperium outfit, pistols resting in their holsters, and shoes, which he had taken pride in shining the night before.
A beep in the device implanted within his left ear alerted him to an incoming call. He pressed an inconspicuous button below his ear, and greeted them. “Demico here. What are the leads today?”
A gentle but firm female voice responded. “Good morning, Captain. I hope this isn’t too early.”
Never too early, if it involves…
“It’s an Aetherial, Captain. Two soldiers reported they ran into one of them yesterday.” She said, without waiting for a response. “Spotted outside a dilapidated bar called…what the hell was its name…oh yeah, Rock Bottom. It’s down on the ground level of District Thirty-Nine. Facial recognition was only able to pull up a name and where the Grid lists them as residing. His name is supposedly Kai Stormbringer, a middle-aged human male who we have traced to a large multi-species apartment complex a couple blocks from that bar.”
Of course, this Stormbringer would be hiding there! It was so obvious, that it’s incredible he hadn’t thought to start checking all the local watering holes for wanted criminals. Their numbers must be so low they are getting desperate and careless. Then again, if I were wanted by the most powerful military in the galaxy, I would probably be drinking my life away too. I wonder if this is the last of the Aetherials. I hope not, because the hunts sure are exciting!
“Thank you, Rodriguez. Ready my squad. E.T.A. is twenty; we will depart for District Thirty-Nine in twenty-five. Mission is Codename: Stormbringer.”
“Roger that. E.T.A. is twenty and I will personally make sure they are prepped and ready for Codename: Stormbringer.” Aetherials could be a tricky foe, should the squad not be completely prepared for all possibilities. Their varying abilities and stages of mastery could make them a Rhonar’s plaything, or a deadly combatant.
“Oh, and one more thing Rodriguez.”
She paused, a growing hesitation creeping into voice. “Yes Captain?”
“Thank you for the good news.”
“You’re welcome, Captain. See you soon.” If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn he heard the faintest sigh of relief after he graciously showed her gratitude that very few received.
The call disconnected and he was left with only his thoughts as he dazed off for a moment in thought, still staring at his uniform perfectly folded in front of him on a slightly angled display. The black breastplate with gold trim showed signs of wear, but it reminded him of how far he had come since the day everything changed. It had been eighteen years, but not a day went by the fire inside his soul didn’t burn to see all the Aetherials dead or otherwise disposed of. They were a nuisance, a plague that needed to be eradicated; vermin, that needed to be hunted down like the monsters they were. He didn’t just want them dead, he wanted them to suffer, like they had made him suffer.
He picked it up in his reconstructed hands, and pressed it to his chest. What sounded like tiny drills and locks clicking into place could be heard momentarily, before he rotated his arms to ensure it was firmly locked in place. Unlike other soldiers, his uniform wasn’t just worn, it was part of him. And for that, he was thankful. It allowed him to dedicate his life to the one solemn being in this galaxy who gave him a chance to survive and make a difference: The Holy Emperor Tenon.
Next were his similarly colored greaves, which he laid them in place and heard the same series of satisfying drills and clicks, before he slipped his shined brown boots over them. Also, still unlike other soldiers, he refused to wear protection over his arms, instead electing to intimidate his prey with a clear view of his bulging muscles baring scars from years of training and hunting. Though they were reconstructed after the attack that nearly took his life all those years ago, they were still the most human part of him, besides his head of course.
The pistol holsters matched his boots, a dark leather that each clipped onto a side of his waist. Finally, he retrieved his pistols. Their long barrels and extended plasma magazines allowed him to pour on the firepower while still maximizing the damage of every shot. The fruits of his labor were marked with tallies on the sides of his pistols, and with over twenty tallies between the two golden guns, he was satisfied with his trophies. Though, as a self-proclaimed hunter, there was never such a thing as too many trophies or a lack of enjoyment in the game.
He was a player in the Aetherial War game, as the common folk called it, and he played to win.
After running his hands through his steel-colored short hair, he deemed himself presentable for the mission ahead. No mirrors would be found in his small apartment, only a bedroom with a closet, a tiny dining area for a single individual, and a toilet with a shower. He didn’t need any more reminders of the tragedy so long ago. His hair could be a disheveled mess, and it likely was, but he would never know.
The disfiguration of his face and body used to bother him, but now, he embraced it. Their stares gave him confidence to know others were terrified of his appearance, though they never dared to utter a word about it to his face.
They knew what he was capable of if they whispered about it in his presence, and it gave him power.
You’d better be ready for the hunt, Stormbringer. Because I am. And I’m coming for you. I hope you put up more of a fight than the last one. They were so…disappointing.
He walked out the door, a rare smile on his face, because today, today was a great day. He had a date with destiny, and its alias today was Stormbringer.