She Halts When She Hears A Distant Shot. Climbing Out Of The Abandoned Ship Shes In She Pops Up To Inspect

She halts when she hears a distant shot. Climbing out of the abandoned ship she’s in she pops up to inspect what it could be. She can’t see anything for miles for there was nothing but red sand. But the one sound was enough to indicate this place was no longer safe. That she had to leave so that she wouldn’t be next.

Disappearing back into space, she reemerges a couple moments later with everything she had with her. Jumping out onto the red sand, the instability of the sand pulling her in. From there, she makes the trudging journey through the red grains because her talons cannot grasp such loose footing. 

Through the loose footing, she eventually climbs her way onto the red hills, hoping to gain sight of her ship. She sees her grey ship stand out against the red. But she looks around to figure out where the sound came from. She wants to make sure where it is so she can avoid it. She assumes either it’s someone blasting or someone being blasted. She didn’t want to find out for herself.

crimson red is all he sees, like bright blood staining crimson sands underneath a salt surface; he remembers Crait like he remembers his name, ingrained into him like an angry scar, vivid and defined- but this is all rough edges, all violence and dark memory. 

he is stronger than this- a descendant of the Empire, a soldier of the Order, empowered by the memory of the Sith, he is stronger than this, and he will soldier on, come hell or high water, through anything the worlds have to throw at him, with the rusty taste of hot blood in his mouth and the sting of salted sweat in the wounds; he will always, always keep going, until the deeds are done.

so To hefts his blaster, drags himself up from the ground, ignoring his busted nose from where the butt of the rebel blaster smashed into his visor and knocked the tinted transparisteel into his face, and aims. squeeze the trigger, he tells himself, and shoots down the fleeing rebel. score.

“Well, you did take on someone else’s name with the legacy behind it. Of course, it’s gonna get heavy.”

“But when I do, I’ll let you know.”

“I guess this is ‘see you later’.”

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She came in her black trench-coat and her signature black leather eye-patch. She had her working attire underneath but only because of the cold was it buttoned all the way. She fooled herself thinking she wouldn’t have to deal Russian-related missions for a while. But no, some idiot had to go and steal something and ruin her Monday. 

Up until now, she’s never heard of nor met a Kingsman. The only reason she’s able to meet one today is because of the merit she’s amassed over the years. The same merit (being dedication and the capability to break some skulls) that’s given her missions like this. She could complain about this later after this mission was done.

“Tristan, right?” She inquired at the man who she believed to be her partner for the time being. Extending a hand to shake with she introduced herself, “Dana Glass. You’re partner for the time being until this mess gets sorted out.”

Despite working for military intelligence in Britain, she was indeed american. Something she hoped wouldn’t be a problem during their allotted time together.

“Maybe. Maybe we don’t have to do this vigilante shit alone. Not just for if and when the time comes.”

“Maybe you don’t have to carry your legacy alone. All this is possible. I’ll just have to think about this.”

“But then again, I’ve been doing way too much of that as of late.”