<a class="postlink" href="http://i255.photobucket.com/albums/hh144/metalkaos/Futuristic_Assassin_by_yingshoa.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/>Hired gun gear (post firing)<br/><a class="postlink" href="http://i554.photobucket.com/albums/jj422/mike44nh/Decorated%20images/Hunks%20and%20Studs/EZ-on-the-eyez.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/>Out of suit<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Hans Jaeger, one of the most well known among his colleges in 2170's National Police Force of America (NPFA) as the cover-man. Born to a military father and an entrepreneur in Berlin, Germany, Hanz dreamed of being like his father. When his family moved when he was six and he got his wish at the age of 20. As a marine, he had traveled across the world promoting Capitalism and Democracy, advocating its salvation to countries in need of freedom. At first, he was always the artillery, but two years in he found his calling. He got to shoot his first sniper rile.<br/><br/>After a year of special forces training, he was sent out to assassinate the enemy target as cleanly and as accurately without being detected. He was good at it. It was the greatest high in all the world. No drug, no matter how chemically altered and enhanced, was enough to top what he felt as he stared at his target from a mile away before he squeezed that trigger and blew that son of a bitch to hell!<br/><br/>But after his service ended after three terms and he was honorably set free, he chose to serve on the homeland's front lines with Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT) in an attempt to fill the void. He loved it, not as much as when he was in the military, but enough that he got by. He kept himself sharp and clean cut, just as he would in the military to avoid running 10 miles on top of daily physical training. He did well and prospered, until one misstep sent it all crashing down.<br/><br/>His target was the kingpin of a powerful gang that ran the slums of his city, selling dope, whores, and guns in order to build an empire. His mission was to take out the target and escape without gang detection. He was alone, left to pull from all of his training in order to pull out this big score. He memorized the target's specs, the movements of each guard, and the entire layout of the target's hideout. Easy enough to get a fat guy with lazy security and in an obvious penthouse sweet. What he didn't know was that a crooked undercover cop would be there.<br/><br/>He got the target, but the crooked cop who showed up reported several other murders of innocent citizens in the area. Hanz was framed and that was it. His career was over. The next day, he was fired as punishment and his ties to all that he knew was severed. Fortunately for him, there was another sort of business that could use a guy with his special talents.</span><br/><br/>Hanz kicked back in his living room chair smoking a cigarette as he watched the news. An influential politician had just been found shot once to the head with no bullet fragments, no cartridges, no physical evidence whatsoever. As he watched, he relaxed and eyed the phone as if waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone to call.<br/><br/>As if by some supernatural occurrence, the phone rang.<br/><br/>"You see the news, Jimbo?" he said in his deep German accent as he put out his cigarette in the nearby ashtray. He stood and moved to the nearby minibar and pulled out a tiny shot of whiskey. "So am I in?" He pounded the shot back and waited for an answer. "Nein! I don't do partners! You know that, Jimbo!"<br/><br/>He huffed after minutes of listening to the yelling voice on the other line. He slunk back to his chair and slumped into it, leaning his head back in an exasperated manner. "Fine, fine. I'll do it." He paused again as he listened to his employer. "They'll be here in the morning. I get it. Abschied."<br/><br/>He hung up and groaned in disgust. Another fucking partner. Just great.