[right][h3]Noname - Beck's Skiff, Jundland Wastes[/h3][/right] [hr] The sky above the skiff was the color of blood, painted with a soft brush. The sandstorm was rapidly approaching and visibility would not last much longer. Staring out at the charming wasteland that was Tatooine Noname did not need the gift of her people to sense the impending danger. Trouble was imminent. Violence was unavoidable. It would not be long before the sand ran red with blood. Czerka blood and Czerka bodies. If Noname had any say in the matter. And she did. She always did. Noname had heard the rumors about Doga the Prospector that swirled through every dusty tavern of Tatooine. The Mayor of Mos Vaada. The newest enemy of the Czerka Corporation. He was a Hutt with fresh ambition. He was a Hutt with a plan. And he was a Hutt with a mercenary named Beck standing at his side. She did not trust the Hutt. She did not trust Beck. She did not trust the other mercenaries. They were weak men of little skill and ambition, almost to a man. But she shared a common enemy with the Hutt. She shared his hatred. She had felt it rolling off of him, a dark cloud of calculated fury, when they had first met. She trusted hatred. She believed in anger. She had signed up to protect the water caravan in Anchorhead. Tam had mentioned that Beck was looking to hire mercenaries for a big job. A rush job. Exactly the sort of job that wouldn't ask any questions. The other hired guns kept their distance. They knew enough. They had heard the stories about the unnamed gunslinger wandering the wastelands. They knew what she had done. They knew what she could do. She had killed. And she had fled. She had fled halfway across the Outer Rims killing along the way. Criminals, cutthroats, and pirate scum. It made no difference. The dead did not weep for murdered villains. No matter what the Jedi said. Corporate killers did not deserve a trial. They did not merit mercy. Hatred was power. Anger was fuel. Violence was the true language of the galaxy. To deliver death to the guilty was righteous. To bring destruction to the corrupt corporations was divine. Justice had no need for politics or politicians. Noname was not done. She had just started. Her revenge had only begun. She would purify the galaxy by fire. One evil, one villain, at a time. Thoughts did not dull her awareness. Memories did not hamper her focus. Recollections of her purpose did not distract her. Her lavender eyes scanned the horizon, watchful of any motion. Her left hand grasped the guard rail of the skiff and she moved expertly with each motion of the ship keeping a stable base. Her free right hand rested on the butt of her heavy slugthrower. Not idly waiting, but constantly moving. Shifting, stretching, and tapping a familiar pattern on the metal frame. Noname was ready to draw the ancient firearm at a moment's notice. She was prepared to put large holes into anything that threatened the safety of the water-laden hover train. Noname readjusted the bandana that covered most of her face. She knew who she was. She was nobody. She had no name. She had no past. And she had no future. [i]She had no name.[/i]