Meschi, commander of the XPGs, finished running down current specs for the Dark Prince. Once they reached Xizor's personal chambers, he was relieved from his escort duties and returned to his daily activities.
Meschi turned down the long, dimly lit, hall towards the training facility. He spent an average of ten standard hours training per day. He spent an additional five hours daily in the absorbing chambers. These chambers were specialized facilities, which allowed the XPGs to absorb information at a rapid pace. Basically they pulled up what they wanted to learn and the computer base within their brain absorbed the information at alarming rates. Earlier this day he had already learned two new languages and the customs of a wide array of worlds.
However, as with most warriors, his first ambition was toward the combat arts. He entered the large training arena and moved to the wall quietly. Removing his gun belt, he replaced it with a training model. Various training weapons and whatnot about him, he moved into the simulator booth. Each weapon was specially fitted with reading and output devices that interacted with a computer simulation. This allowed the XPGs to practice on enemies who were a match to them, without harming one another. Even so, Meschi began to grow bored of the simulator. He no longer found the challenge in it he once did. The computer generated opponents seemed slow and flawed. However, he continued to push himself to his limits of speed, endurance, and skill. None shall defeat him in combat, when the time should arise.
Just as he began the day’s exercises, his wrist comm. rang with a communication. Evidently there was someone on the Dark Prince's level who was not cleared to be there. This did not sit well with the XPG. His training weapons quickly discarded, he retrieved his own and headed to Xizor's personal level. Whoever was on it had clearance codes to be there. They did not, however, have clearance to be there now. Someone would pay for this outrage. Someone would pay for interrupting his training.
Someone would surely die.
Meschi stepped from the turbo-lift and looked down the hall.
A stealth suit, he thought to himself. Certainly not a welcoming gesture. He tapped his wrist comm., calling for the hall's power to be cut. In the dark the assassin had not chance of escape. Meschi's eyes instantly shifted to infrared. The heat signature of the attacker was quickly given off, due to his nervous state. Meschi moved with blinding speed, however failed to make more than a slight breeze echo as he moved. Flawlessly his hand powered forward into the larynx of the attacker, who quickly fell to his knees. Meschi had the man disarmed almost before his knees hit the ground. His right arm wrapped around the neck of the other and he quickly pulled off the hood of the stealth suit.
In the turbo-lift, Meschi held his grip on the infidel's neck. Throwing him from the lift and to his knees once more as they reached the main level. Meschi had already called for the staff to be assembled in the main congregation area. This would be a public display. This would be a lesson.
Dragging the man, who began to fail to fight back, he reached the communal area. He threw the man to the center. The employees and guards alike were aghast to see one of their own in such a situation. Meschi removed from his back an elongated sword. Curved slightly, and tuned to razor sharp, he stated to his 'spectators'.
"Disloyalty will not be tolerated. This is the penalty."
With that, his blade lowered in a motion so fast that many of the normal races had trouble following it. For a moment it appeared as if he had missed his mark. As if he had issued a warning. However, that moment passed and the brutality of the action became apparent. The man's midsection slowly parted and his insides became outsides. A gruesome display as his entrails were spilled upon his lap and his bowels and bladder loosed their contents.
With not so much as another word, Meschi turned and made his way back to the training area. His daily training had to be finished. He did not give the incident so much as another thought. After all, it was warranted.
To offend Xizor was to die.
