“They call themselves the ‘Shotgun Ninja’, can you believe that? Where the hell are they recruiting these people??”
I had heard that, right from their mouth in fact. Bar tending in a rebel station meant I was bound to meet the galaxy’s weirdest murderers.
“Everyone needs a name, I suppose.” I said it seriously but I’m sure my smirk gave away what I really thought.
In all honesty, I probably would have called myself something else too if my name was Fornax Alphecca. It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, not like the Shotgun Ninja does. And at least it’s an informative nickname.
Nobody took them seriously at first, but they were quite serious themselves. Right after they were recruited, they showed everyone in the bar their shotgun - unloaded and safety on, of course - and said it was from their mentor. Apparently she had died and her last act was to gift this shotgun to Fornax - they pointed to a stain that looked suspiciously like rust but they claimed was her blood.
People began to take them more seriously once the bodies started piling up though. We all knew war was bloody, that this wasn’t a pretty job for any of us. But Fornax…well, they seemed to take it to a whole new level. Shotguns were one thing but in their own words, “the way of the gun is the last resort. A true ninja lives by the blade.”
It sounds silly when I write it down, but the aftermath of their jobs were anything but. They nearly always hijacked the entire ship, killing everyone on board. Every addition to the fleet was worth it, but I wouldn’t say that to the people who had to clean up the mess.
Not every ship made it back in one piece. The story of how they “slew an entire crew in less than 30 seconds” appeared to be true, based on the timestamps in the logs. But the multiple explosions from damaged engines and rigged crew members told a story of panic rather than skill. And it was a hell of a repair job.
Still, they were merciless and effective. The results were messy but obvious, and made us rebels look like we might be an effective resistance after all. Systems joined us one after another, practically jumping and waving their hands with excitement. It was working, and Fornax was leading the charge.
One day they showed up to the bar with some kid in tow, marching them around and saying “This is my kid, don’t they look just like me? Can you believe my kid was dumb enough to get caught? I had to save them you know - hardest mission of my life.” We all rolled our eyes, including the kid.
But after that, things changed. Fornax seemed desperate to write their name into the very fabric of the galaxy. The jobs kept getting harder and Fornax kept showing up with fresh wounds and more bodies. And the legend grew.
Their desiccated corpse was tracked and recovered not too long after, and the video logs from their ocular implant showed a frenzied slaughter, somehow both gleeful and desperate. Then a stray shotgun blast, an explosion, and that was the end.
