[hider= Beauty in madness - The artist at work.]

"Yeah that was one hell of an operation, should have seen Giles when the artist came out... We get asked alot if that side of him is a liability, fuck that nonsense - let me tell you guys a story of how the artist makes our job 10x more fun, and 10x easier!"
Virtak had successfully entrapped his audience around the table, a number of patrons in one of the many bars on the Citadel - the group had been taking some time off and spending some of their hard earned credits, and Virtak being himself refuses to buy his own drinks, and gets them via storytelling.
Oddly successful at it too.   

"So... it begins when we..." Virtak began a large vulpine smile on his lips.
[hr]
[h3][i]-At an undisclosed system in the Traverse- Year:2181[/i][/h3]
The Mercenary band had finally made it after traipsing half way across the galaxy chasing one goddamned ship, it had managed to land on one of them many numerous seemingly dis-interesting planets that scattered hundreds of systems throughout the galaxy, perfect place for those whom don't want to be seen doing what they do.

"What's the info we have on this piece of rocky shit?" Virtak asked their pilot; the Turian in the cockpit replied with "Nothing interesting about it in any files or records, its orbiting a G class star at around 9.2 Au, barely got any atmosphere, but what it does have contains trace amounts of methane and nitrogen, means if you're outside you gotta wear a helmet; surface is cold as fuck too, -134 Celsius, I don't recommend going for a stroll; get in, kill them all, get out."

All's the pilot got in response was a growl as Virtak lumbered off to assemble the crew.
Within 10 minutes they were all outfitted and ready to go.

Their landing was fairly smooth, it appeared that the enemy knew they were being chased and offloaded their cargo as swiftly as possible before getting inside the bunker that stood before the 7 mercs; Giles had been off long before arriving on the cold rock that was this planet, and no amount of medication that he took was making him feel any better, everyone knew what this meant, and that meant Giles himself.

After the airlock was hacked open the mercs moved in and waited for depressurisation before removing their helmets, the first room they entered had been cleared mostly of clutter but its design offered a fair bit on what the rest of the place would be like.
It was a recent construction and clearly a very expensive build, this place was a veritable bunker designed to survive bombardment, the naturally hard surface outside helped as well, clearly they were dealing with one paranoid fucker.
As they prepped to siege the next room - since Giles' recon mine outlined several hostile entities inside, it was then the episode started.
[hr]
[h3][color=red][i][b]The Artist awakens![/b][/i][/color][/h3]

[color=red][i]"NO! THIS CANVAS! IT'S. SO. DULL! PLACID AND DEPRIVED, IT NEEDS COLOUR, IT NEEDS A BREATH OF LIFE IN ITS SOULLESS HUSK OF A CORPSE: I MUST, I NEED, I WILL GIVE IT LIFE! I WILL PAINT IT WITH CRIMSON REDS, BOLD BLUES, STARTLING PURPLES AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COLOUR OF THEM ALL! IN VERDANT GREENS!"[/i][/color]

The Artist stood, in front of him stood his audience, they always stood and observed his show's they were loyal, they respected his work they cheered when he began his work, they wept tears of joy when they seen him place his brush down when the work had been completed and above all the always returned to watch him perform again, they had beautiful colours in them, they'd make a fine painting, but he enjoyed admirers of his work - alas what is the point of art if there is none to admire its beauty?

The big one spoke "Giles, blow the door, its time to to get to work." 
Ugh, his voice was so crude, it hurt his ears to listen to it, but he spoke of something that mattered greatly the performance was to begin, the curtains were in front of him, the only colour in this world that he in stood a shocking veil of velvet red curtains, and on it was one of his brushes, something he used to splash many a colour across a large area of the canvas, in his hand there lied the magical ability to commence the show, to draw back the curtains and begin his show, his performance of perfection, his symphony of death, so much paint and colour lied ahead of him, and he most make them pour it free.
His hands shook with anticipation, a mad smile covered his face, his eyes wild with excitement.

[color=red][b]"It's time to begin the performance! This, will be my greatest work of art as of yet!"[/b][/color] And as he finished his sentence he blew the door of its hydrolic locks and hinges, a tonne of metal flew free from its hinges and crashed off a pillar within the room behind it, his audience moved forward to take their seats, he stopped to take in a large gulp of air, and drew his most prized instrument, this brush of his, it was unique in that it was capable of creating the best colours, nothing - no other instrument did he ever have at his disposal create the same dark and deep colours as this did, he caressed its smooth surface and cool metal as it began its tune of unlocking, it was now truly an instrument of which he would sow the seeds of death, and with one stroke reap its harvest.

He moved swiftly, moving onto the stage and within mere seconds clocked his first target, setting up his instrument of beauty he peered closer at it through the scope, this target, large and unsightly was its exterior but insie he knew, it contained that precious colour that he needed for his first stroke - an Azure blue, a perfect rendition of the skies of Khaje.
This colour, he needed it, he must use IT, it was time to dip his brush in the paint, and begin the work of a master.

He pulled the trigger back, it giving its master no resistance as he did so, it begged to be pulled back as both he and his instrument wanted the same thing.
And the Choir began their hymn, the barrel shook as their voices pierced the heavens and the projectile was unleashed from its captivity.
It blazed through the air, and as the choir hit its crescendo the bullet pierced through its target spilling forth in large quantities life's most precious liquid.  
Giles' eyes watered at the sight, it was the very incarnation of perfection, the first kill, the first stroke of the brush it always moved him the most, joy bloomed in his fragile heart and he buried the memory deep inside him, with all of the others, every other first stroke he had made.
The painting had begun, the performance in full swing his audience begging for more.
He would have to continue, he had to to ensure that they were sated; his work was in high demand and he would gleefully fulfil that demand.

Giles danced around the room, with every step he sowed further seeds of his perfection, spilling more and more essence of life that painted this tawdry setting.
His work was getting more and more complete, every step that dawned closer to the finish of this artwork made his eyes swell with tears of pain and sorrow, but equally his lust for more increased, he wanted nothing more to see the end result of his work to see the perfection of his art and the mastery of his strokes.
For every stroke on this painting meant it was always one step closer to the next painting he would make.

As his performance drew to a close he his from the crowds eyes, concealing himself! One of the beings in front of him held that alluring Crimson red that he loved - he used one of his other tools for this one, activating a cain mine he placed it on his target before revolving around with incredible speed and unleashing a powerful kick into its chest, sending t flying over towards another person whom held a dark but soothing light green.
The explosion that ensued joined their colours together and splattered them around the area, truly outstanding, the perfect merging of them blossomed into a cascade of colour; it was like the flowers in Thessia coming into bloom.

There only lied one last are he needed to paint, and only one person held the final colour, a navy blue, it would complement his work nicely and add the perfect finishing touch.
Leaping to a piece of cover he prepared his main instrument of artistry and executed a perfect shot, it punched through a piece of the theatre and into the head, exploding to release voluminous amounts of paint.

Giles placed his weapon on his back, swivelling on his right foot as he did so, and falling to on knee he raised his hands to the heavens, outstretched as if to hold the gods themselves, and with a voice filled with joy he stated to his audience.
[color=red][b]"My work is complete! Truly my best work to date, its magnificent colours blend perfectly together, there isn't so much as a single blemish, upon its once pale canvas; I have restored it to life! I have bestowed upon it the greatest gift any can be given..."[/b][/color]

[center][h1][color=red][u]PERFECTION![/u][/color][/h1][/center]

[center][img]https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8266/8686435039_af6113c82e_b.jpg[/img][/center]

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