The office is sparsely furnished. A small desk with a chair behind it, worn and contoured to the back that spends so much time in that seat. The desk has papers everywhere, in neat little stacks and some sit in boxes, for this or that. There is otherwise a painting on the wall of a family, two rickety chairs face the desk, and a bookshelf. There are few books on the shelf, however.
The bald head that can be seen over the chair belongs to Jackal. A large Raven swooping for prey sits forever mounted on his head in ink. His scarred face has an almost constant grimace. The scars pull at his lips and eye on the one side.
The scowl on his face now could freeze dry ice. His eyes almost glowed in fury.
He set the reports down, smacking the desk, making it rumble. Thinking to himself, 'Why? Why can't he simply keep his nose out when it will only cause us more hassles? He knows this. Yet he feels it is ok to do as he will. It is so easy to simply sit back and wait for your prey, yet he wishes to call it to him. Even when when told to stop. To use stealth and patience.' Jackal pulls himself out of his reverie to make sure the small but powerful blaster he keeps under the desk is pointed toward the chair across from him. He moves the other chair to a corner and puts paperwork on it. His countenance never softens while he works through the rest of the replies he needs to make. Still trying to figure out how to handle this once and for all.
Jackal is almost through his mound of paperwork when his second walks through the door. No knock, or attempt at respect shown. He moves to stand in front of Jackal's desk and strikes a defensive posture. Obviously he feels wronged by this calling by Jackal. Not even moving to take the seat offered, hands on his hips.
"You wanted me?" The man spits, acidly.
"Yes, I did. I wanted you to stand by me and Help me forge this into a force unstoppable by any in this sector. Instead you go ranting and raving all over Sirius and getting into as many scrapes as you possibly can along the way. I know you yearn for combat. I do Too. But you Knew we were almost in the clear and Still you couldn't bring yourself to actually help." Jackal spits right back. The vehemence clear in his voice. The crevice in his furrowed brow clearly attesting to the rage going through his body. "How DARE you stand there all impertinent. As if you have done Nothing wrong. You've almost DESTROYED single HANDEDLY I might add, ALL that we have worked for...NO, I have worked for. Weeks of talks and flying all over Sirius trying to clean up after you." Jackal stood, raising to his full height. His visage a mass of swirling anger and pain. He quietly said, "You are hereby clipped. Your wings revoked and your ships will be turned over for decommisioning. Your status and welcome here at Cape Wrath are hereby Revoked. You are again, alone. Now get out of my office." Jackal all but fell back into his chair. Never dreaming he would have to do this, to his mentor and friend, or so he had thought.
Sorrow's face dropped, the plain surprise quickly replaced by rage of his own. "You DARE to tell me MY wings are clipped? I MADE this wing. I AM RaVeN. Without ME you have Nothing...NOTHING! Do you hear me?" The now screaming man was spitting everywhere as he bellowed at his former comrade. He never heard the shot, nor the second or the third.
His body flew backward from the first shot, an automatic response to the shock of the blaster bolt hitting him square in the chest. The second ripped through his shoulder, leaving just a mass of red mush, where bone and sinew had been before. The third imploded the front of the screaming mans face, exploding out the back and into the wall, in a spray of blood and brain matter.
Jackal slowly put the blaster back in its secret holster under his desk, sighing loudly. He sat forward and buried his face in his hands. The sobs wracked his entire frame as he mourned the loss of a good man. A friend. A mentor. A madman. Nothing he told himself could change that he had made the right decision. No amount of friendship was worth the lives of his entire crew.
He had killed his friend, to save them all.
Long minutes passed as Jackal mourned his friend. Eventually he pulled himself together and punched the button on his intercom and called for a cleaning crew. He ordered that proper burial would be done for the man he'd just murdered. In cold blood. That his office be made to seem as if nothing had been done. Then, he went to find and tell his men. It was better that they heard it from him personally. He owed them that much. As he walked out of the room, he knew that he was now on a path that couldn't be changed. Nothing would stand in his way for making this wing a force to be respected and feared. His face was grim as he pulled on his flightsuit and made way from Cape Wrath. Death on his mind.
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