Flesh Pirates

I awoke.

I didn’t know what year it was, let alone what day or what hour.

I was ravenous with hunger. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten, but I needed to feed now with an urgency that threatened on obsessive.

My joints creaked from lack of use, my vision dulled and blurred on one side. Perhaps I had suffered sickness while in cryo sleep? It wouldn’t matter soon. Soon, my hunger would be satiated.

I remembered the days when I never suffered from illness, from when I was a capsuleer. They told us we would live forever. They lied.

Things had changed when Empress Jamyl Sarum I married Tibus Heth. That was the end of immortality for all of us. What made things even more interesting was the fact that our bodies then began aging at an accelerated rate. The top scientists of the Union (the new name given to the merging of Caldari State and the Amarr Empire) couldn’t find a cure.

Many of us believed this genetic virus had been engineered all along by Sarum towards the extinction of all capsuleers. Not surprisingly, very few Amarr capsuleers took ill, and none suffered this genetic mutation condition.

When we had fled New Eden in our Hel carrier, there were only a few hundred of us; time and necessity had seen our numbers grow.

The alarms blared. The attack had already begun. By now, some unsuspecting vessel would be locked in our tractor beams, having already been disabled by whatever fighter drones we still had functioning. Our existence was a risky one, jumping into high sec for a quick ambush, then retreating into the nearest wormhole we could find.

We were always cautious. Our scouts were very thorough. Over the countless years we had learned what could happen if we were reckless, having had our wormhole collapse on us previously, leaving us stranded in high security Empire space. CONCORD was quick to react to our presence, and it took us decades to restore our ship to fully operational status. Many lives were lost that day, but it was fewer mouths to feed in the end.

Still, maybe today we would be lucky. Maybe today we would pillage and burn, topping up our cargo holds and stuffing our faces until we could gorge no more.

Limping slightly, I left my room, if you could call it that. Even though we were on an old Minmatar Hel carrier, space was at a premium. There were thousands of us aboard, maybe tens of thousands, it was hard to keep track. So a room? No, more of a storage locker really.

The hallway was packed with fellow crew mates, all of us staggering forward to our posts. We reeked of body odour, not a one of us having had the luxury of a shower since before I could remember.

I made my way to a landing bay. As part of the assault team, it was my duty to get into the enemy vessel quickly once it was within our docks, neutralize any onboard threats, then return to whomever was in command that day. We were not to loot, or feast, before any others.

It was a rule.

My anticipation grew as I entered the main hangar deck and saw what we had captured; the largest luxury cruiser I had ever laid eyes on. There would be thousands of people aboard, enough to keep us going for years. I could feel the saliva building in my mouth, and my stomach growled, audibly chastising me for not fulfilling its needs already.

Three dozen of us boarded the ship.

The electrical systems had been shut down via EM pulse, knocking out not only the ship’s systems, but any energy based hand weaponry they might have aboard. The dark didn’t bother me; it never had.

Immediately upon entering the boarding ramp, we were attacked.

A male in light armour took a swipe at me with a weighted baton. My left hand thrust forward, open palmed, catching him in the muscle of the forearm, twitching reactively of their own accord, his hand opening, dropping the baton. The stunned look on his face was quickly erased as I drove my forehead into the meat of his cheekbone.

I grabbed his shoulder with one hand, his jaw with the other, twisting his neck perversely until I heard it snap. The saliva in my mouth threatened to spill outwards.

I was hit across the back by another security guard, and while I acknowledged the blow, it didn’t hurt. I turned, my one clear eye glaring at the terrified man who was already backpedaling away. He stumbled, falling onto his rump, and I winced a little at the thought of him damaging himself.

He rolled over onto his front, clawing and crawling, trying to escape. I reached down and grabbed him by the ankle, pulling him towards me, eyeing his meaty legs, but my planned attack was interrupted by a fellow crew member diving on top of the man, ripping through his armour and shirt with his bare hands, blood spraying everywhere.

I pushed forward more deeply into the ship.

There was screaming to be heard reverberating in every direction, and it was music to my ears. My heart raced with excitement. It had been so long, too long, since I had been awake. I was going to savour every moment of it.

I turned a corridor and came face to face with a red haired woman. We both stopped for an eternal moment, her horrified at my appearance, me shocked by an ageless memory of a woman I once loved.

She shrieked. My hand snaked out, grabbing her by the throat, hard, stifling her shrill voice. She grabbed at my arm with both hands reflexively, already weakening from my vise-like grip. Her knees began to buckle.

I punched her in the face, so powerful was the memory of that other red-headed bitch. I drove my fist into her nose, her jaw, watching her lips split, her eyes swell, knowing I was committing a horrible sin amongst my brothers, knowing I was bruising our food, and that I would be punished later.

I didn’t care.

I continued pommeling her as I lowered her to the deck of the luxury cruiser. I drove my knee into her sternum, rewarded with the rushing sound of what little air remained being pushed from her lungs, and laughed as she spit up teeth onto the deck.

She could barely struggle now, and I was so sexually aroused by the indecent act that I was performing, I could hardly contain myself.

I smashed my fist into her face once more for good measure, then leaned close to her, taking in a deep smell of her fear.

I licked at the blood on her face, delighting in its metallic tinge. Her skin was so soft, so lovely. It would look beautiful on me.

Unexpectedly, she reached for my ear, ripping the earring out of it, taking a piece of my precious skin with it. Again, there was no pain, but I was filled with such rage at her defiance.

I drove my fist into her face. And again. And again. I could feel my knuckles splintering, and laughed with glee as her visage became more and more unrecognizable.

The sound of bones breaking, the canvas of blood, I was nearly orgasmic. I knew she was already dead, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted to reach into her face and pull out her spine, sucking on the tangy sponginess of her marrow. I wanted to consume her, strip her flesh, add it to my own.

I was tackled by three of my own crew mates before I could fulfill my dark indulgence. I was furious and turned against them with animal savagery.

It was my last mistake. As a pack, they surrounded me, inching closer, and I knew my miserable existence was at an end.

I had broken a rule.

I cast one more look towards my fair-haired prize, filled with a momentary regret that I would never get to feel her skin from the inside, that I would never get to eat her organs, or suck her bones dry.

With a guttural howl, I attacked fiercely, but was slowly, and literally, torn to shreds.

I awoke.

I was trembling. Aura had gently brought me to consciousness within my pod. My Vigil class frigate had arrived at my preset destination.

I had arrived in 0.0 space.

I tried to shake my mind free of that horrific and disturbing nightmare I had experienced, but failed.

Clearly, there was something wrong with me.

Dread Pirate Wieler

Guardian Angels

UNDISCLOSED 0.1 SYSTEM
ENROUTE TO CURSE REGION

My Vigil class, exploration fit frigate rocked again against the missile volley from the Serpentis ships. They had setup a gate camp on the jump gate I had just made use of.

It was terrible luck really. Had I been travelling the other direction, I tentatively could’ve broken through their blockade and accessed the gate controls before they could’ve locked me down. Unfortunately, it hadn’t gone down that way, and as I had tried to align the nimble frigate towards the next jump gate along my destined path, the Serpentis had surprised me with their competence.

Now I was suffering from my underestimation of them, two Daredevil frigates raking me with missiles and turret fire while keeping my frigate webbed and scrammed, allowing the turrets of the much larger Vindicator battleship ample time to track me.

Aura warned me that my shields had dropped as I felt the metallic structure of my ship groan and strain. It wouldn’t take long for that battleship to incinerate me.

I had decided to head towards Curse Region, following a lead I had received from a contact within Republic High Command. There was growing concern over the Angel Cartel’s technological advancements, rumours they had been reverse engineering Jovian technology and selling it to the Serpentis, whom they were known to be closely allied with. The ramifications of Jovian technology in the hands of such a widespread and powerful pirate ring were staggering, if true. It was my job to uncover what I may, being the poster boy for the Republic’s current “Anti-Pirate” campaign. A victory would further help to restore my tarnished reputation, whereas a failure wouldn’t surprise anyone, and the blame would fall squarely on my shoulders.

I hated the situation I was in. My heart was pure, my motives noble, yet no matter what I seemed to do, the bureaucracy and political machine of the Republic was destined to spin things however they best saw fit to protect their own interests. But was that beneficial to the longterm prosperity of the Republic? Were the secretive directives of a few influential members of parliament really what the foundations of democracy were intended for?

I was beginning to see Shakor as more of an impotent figurehead than anything, and felt empathy for him. Him and I were very much alike, men with the ability to see right from wrong, possessed of the desire to improve the quality of life for our people, to do what was right, and yet surrounded by those lacking the forward thinking ability to enlist true and lasting change.

It was a growing frustration for me.

My travels had been surprisingly quiet through most of lowsec; there seemed to be a mass emigration towards Empire space recently, though I couldn’t be entirely sure why. Did it have to do with the very thing I was being sent to find out? I supposed only time would tell.

The battleship landed another heavy salvo against my frigate, penetrating my hull, venting oxygen from my ship’s life support systems into space. I had Aura seal off those sections immediately. The ship wasn’t responding at 100% anymore, and scanning the damage control systems, I knew I was done for unless I took drastic measures.

I had finally managed to align to my intended gate, and fired an ECM burst. I knew the Vindicator wouldn’t be in range, but I was hoping to at least shake the two frigates long enough to make the jump to lightspeed.

I felt, more than heard the burst, and was elated when I watched both frigates lose target lock. I was free, and made use of those precious seconds.

Moments later, my ship shook violently as I sped through warp, and I encouraged the ship verbally under my breath to just hold on long enough to make it to a station.

As I half-expected, there was another gate camp setup, awaiting my arrival. I blazed forward, Aura activating the jump gate, and I was away without further incident.

Three systems later, I docked up at a relatively non-hostile station, and engaged them for repairs to my ship. They overcharged me, but given the remote location I was in, I was more than happy to pay their fee without argument.

During the forced downtime, I reviewed my intelligence reports on the Guardian Angels. I had transferred every piece of RSS data I had been provided onto my NeoCom, and while most was vague assumptions and spun yarn from aging pilots, I put together a disturbing theme: from all indications it did look probable that the Guardian Angels had indeed advanced ancient Jovian technology.

My mission objective was clear. Achieving that objective would be an arduous task, and I had no idea what was going to happen next, but if anything, I was sure it would prove interesting, as life often was.

[OOC]Curious Case of Roc Wieler

When I started EVE Online I didn’t know that once I created my character’s appearance, that would be it. I’m sure many of us made this same mistake.

Please understand I came from Star Wars Galaxies. In SWG, you could change clothes, wear accessories, have every facet of your appearance changed by an Image Designer for an ingame fee.

Even though EVE Online is all about internet spaceships, I foolishly assumed that I could change my character later on.

So Roc looks like he does.

Then I started messing around with Roc in 3D, as many of you seen, and I’m really pleased with the results. So much so, that I used an empty slot on an alt account to fool around some more with how I think Roc Wieler should look ingame.

Here’s the results:

roc1

This looks a lot more like his high resolution 3D representation. I like these lights because of the Minmatar feel they give to the image.

Then there’s this:

roc2

I like this one as well because it has darker glasses, and overall gives a more ominous feel.

The bottom line is that I’m considering paying CCP to have my avatar redone. Do I wait for Incarna? Does it really matter? Does anyone care?

Fill out today’s poll and help me make a decision!

The Hive

UNDISCLOSED SYSTEM – MINMATAR WARZONE

Some people relax with a nice cup of tea. Others enjoy the luxury of slowly sinking into a thermal spa.

Brutor are an odd people this way; many of my pilots enjoy an extreme workout session at the gym, or going bare-handed bear hunting, or engaging in martial combat training, or any other number of equally aggressive, physically demanding outlets.

For me, I had decided to wind down a little by making use of the newly acquired skills I had picked up during my adventures pursuing the truth of the Wildfire Khumaak, namely Analyzing, Hacking, and Archeology.

To that end, I purchased a Vigil class frigate, and put together a quick exploration fit with my chief mechanic. We both agreed it was definitely not the ideal configuration, and that neither of us really had any expertise with this particular aspect of ship usage, but just the same, he surprised me, as he often does.

“You should be puttin’ a drone in the bay, lad. Least gifya a fightin’ chance.”

I looked at him incredulously. It had a drone bay? I thought to myself, not recalling ever having seen a frigate launch a drone.

He chuckled heartily to himself at my bewildered look.

“Ach, laddie; are you completely daft? They build some of  ’em with drone bays. Be why tis best ta leave the flyin’ to ya, and the brains ta me.”

With that, he started mumbling to himself as he headed off towards our drone supply warehouse, his hands expressively gesturing until he was gone from sight.

I had never trusted drones, but was slowly starting to understand their value.

Within the hour, I had departed from Dal, not sure of my destination, but anxious to hone my exploration skills.

I was always pragmatic, and it didn’t take long for me to settle upon the idea of scanning down anomalies in lowsec war systems. My first scan revealed a Major Minmatar Stronghold in the currently contested system I was in. I informed the militia channel, waited for interested pilots to arrive, then having neither the engineers onboard nor the need to oversee these newer pilots, I continued onto the next leg of my undetermined journey.

Several systems deeper into lowsec warzone, I finally got a positive response from my probe. There was a 6% strength anomaly insystem.

I felt a sense of youthful excitement at the find, and quickly set about launching five more probes to help me narrow down the exact location of the occurrence.

50 minutes later I realized I had to get better at this. With one eye continually on my overview, the other eye straining against my scan map overlay, I was relieved when a 100% sensor strength ping turned green, informing me I was ready to go.

I sent out the retrieval command to my probes, and as I waited for them to return, quickly brought up all the relevant information on the anomaly.

Rogue Drone Complex – DED rated 5/10, definitely beyond the means of this ship. Still, after all the efforts I had put into finding the damned thing, I was at least going to take a peek. In a worst case scenario, I could bookmark the location and come back in the Onslaught. Having made up my mind, and verifying my probes were securely returned, I warped to the complex.

A single acceleration gate beckoned to me, enticing me inwards. I happily obliged and felt my small frigate shutter as the gate’s tractor beams seized my ship, accelerating it onwards at warp velocity.

I fully expected to drop smack dab in the middle of a hornet’s nest, well, the rogue drone equivalent. I was ready to hear the sound of target locking alarms, of Aura’s voice warning me of incoming hostiles, and dozens of other equally unpleasant scenarios.

I wasn’t ready for what the reality of it was; the complex was empty.

Shipwrecks and debris littered space for hundreds of kilometers around me, stripped meticulously clean. My overview picked up several biomass signatures, frozen corpses floating throughout eternity, their faces forever etched in the terrible moment their lives were extinguished. Even within my pod, I felt a shiver work its way down my spine.

I was presented with a choice of two acceleration gates; one identified as an ancient acceleration gate, the other as a plasma acceleration gate. I had never heard of such a thing before, so naturally directed my ship that way. The whole point of exploration was to discover new things afterall.

The Vigil was a fast and nimble ship, and with the additional burn from my afterburner, I was clocking 1620 m/s, which was pretty impressive to me. Only my Firetail, the Renegade, matched those speeds from within my personal fleet.

Once within range of the gate, I had Aura activate it, but she rejected the command, citing I would require higher Plasma Physics skill to operate this gate.

In a day and age where everything was mind-controlled artificial intelligence, I was a little put off. That, and the notion of Roc Wieler, Plasma Physicist held no appeal to me whatsoever.

And yet I was stubborn and dedicated to my task. I was exploring, and therefore I would explore.

I had Aura pull up a quick search of the regional market, and coincidentally found a copy of the Plasma Physics skillbook insystem. Since I had barely started into the rogue drone complex I figured I might as well take some time, acquire the book, have Aura feed it directly into my subconscious mind as I continued exploring, and when she felt I was at an acceptable level of scientific expertise, come back to the gate in question.

Not long after, I was back in the complex, having driven forward through the ancient gate to whatever laid beyond. Again, I was anxious returning to normal space, my combat readiness felt by the adrenaline raging throughout my system. Nobody liked to be caught unaware.

Again, I was greeted with the inky blackness and eerie silence of nothingness. There was a joke I had heard among fellow capsuleers, “Nobody can hear you scream in space”, and it came to mind uninvited, its very premise haunting my logic.

Several unmarked containers littered the scene, many near small drone outposts, surrounded by more ship debris. Still, I had to know everything about this mysterious place; I moved the Vigil towards the nearest drone outpost, angling for a container.

My hands flexed subconsciously, my senses eager for battle at a moment’s notice, and I could feel my temperature rising within the warm comfort of my pod’s life supporting gel.

I launched my drone towards the nearby container, feeling the bay shudder and clang as the drone released. It reverberated throughout the small ship, making the hairs on the back on my neck stand on end.

There was simply something not right about this place. It was almost a graveyard, but there were no indications of whom would visit or care for these dead souls.

My drone opened the container, and I squeezed my hands once more, expecting some unknown alarm to trigger a swarm of rogue drones from the nearby outpost.

Nothing.

My drone quickly scooped up the contents of the container and proceeded back to the Vigil, unloading its prize into the cargo bay before returning to the drone bay.

I could feel every movement, could hear every action. This ship had thin walls it seemed.

I broke out in a small perspiration of sweat, noticing on my status HUD that my heart was accelerated. I forcefully pushed aside my growing fear; it wasn’t welcome, it wasn’t rational. My heart rate slowed to more acceptable levels.

The joke about the silence of space sprang back to mind. Nobody can hear you scream. The words were stuck on an auto-loop in my brain.

I checked the militia channel, always conscience that I was in the warzone, always aware that at any given moment the Amarr might ambush the unsuspecting. There was no traffic in the channel.

I switched to the TLF Intel channel and experienced the same thing; nothing but static. I put out a quick private comm to a pilot I knew that Aura had confirmed was plugged into their pod. Nothing.

An increasing sense of dread and isolation pushed in at me from all sides.

I physically shook when Aura interrupted with the notification that I had learned the equivalent of Plasma Physics basics. After laughing at myself and my own senseless uneasiness, I headed back towards the plasma gate.

Once within range, I activated the gate. Aura gave me the same warning, that I did not possess the skills necessary to activate this gate. I cursed silently, and asked the simple question. What do I need to know, Aura?

She stated I would need the equivalent of level 4 training in Plasma Physics, an advanced understanding of the relationships between the presence of a non negligible number of charge carriers that make plasma electrically conductive to respond to strongly charged electromagnetic fields. She was right; I had no idea what that was.

I bookmarked the gate, citing my notation to read “For future investigation”, then headed back into the complex.

It was a perilous cycle. Each new gate I warped through offered choices. Each choice led deeper into the mysteriously dead or abandoned facility. Each area was littered with an increasing number of shipwrecks.

But the loot was good. It gnawed away at me more and more at how effectively the ships had been stripped, and how organized the containers were. I had never even heard rumours of drones behaving in this methodical a fashion. Granted, I wasn’t a drone expert, rarely employing myself until recently. I knew there were those that swore by their drones, but I had always been wary of drones, for this exact reason. I didn’t trust anything not under my direct control.

I had heard horror stories of capsuleers venturing into the Rogue Drone Regions, never to return, their clones inexplicably failing. These tales were enough to convince me to face living, breathing opponents, not manufactured ones.

Hours later, I was still pushing deeper and deeper into the complex. It was a dark labyrinth of never ending options. My cargo hold was long since full, but I dared not leave for fear of never being able to find my way this deeply again.

This particular area was within a poisonous nebula, reducing visibility to almost nothing. I relied entirely on my instruments as I navigated towards the only acceleration gate out of here.

I had given up maintaining a normal heart rate, and noticed even my breathing had quickened, becoming shallow. I was genuinely and irrationally afraid.

The final gate sped me forwards, and my fists clenched to the point of pain as I anticipated another unexpected drone assault.

My jaw dropped at what I saw next.

hive2

I wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but it was massive and daunting. I had Aura perform a thorough sensor scan, and reactively readied my drone for launch as a precautionary measure.

I was mesmerized by this technological monstrosity. I thought I was able to recognize dozens of different parts from ship types I knew intimately: rifters, punishers, hurricanes, taranis, megathrons; there were pieces of everything put together here. Armour plates, engine clusters, shield generators; at least I knew what had become of all those stripped ships.

Aura had analyzed it and identified it as a Rogue Drone Hive, indicating a grave threat level to me. I scanned for hostiles, finding nothing. I wasn’t going to be put off having come this far, so swallowing deeply, I pressed forward to see more of this hive up close.

hive3

My mind staggered as I approached it until I was directly underneath what was geometrically its center. No matter which direction I looked, my HUD was filled with the hive. Its enormity beggared description. I cleared the HUD to get a better view, pushing ever nearer, inexplicably drawn to it.

My fear had subsided. My reservations didn’t exist. I wanted to be part of this hive. I needed to be closer to it. I didn’t even hear the warning alarms from Aura as a stream of dozens of drones spewed from the hive, instantly locking my small frigate.

I continued to stare, dumbfounded, as the stream of drones raced towards me. It was only then that I regained my faculties, but by then it was too late.

The Hive had locked me with three points, my velocity was held to 4 m/s. I couldn’t align in time. I couldn’t warp away. I could feel the drones reaching out to me, as insane as that sounds, then could physically feel the rear of my ship buckling, as my own drone responded to their call. It thrashed around in its cargo bay, weapons blazing, and I do not know which had sealed my fate; the rogue drones about to destroy my ship, or my own drone rebelling against my commands from within.

hive4

So much damage was done by the combined volleys of all those drones, that even my pod shook, taking peripheral damage. I feared I would be too late, and that the hive would respond before I could, locking down my pod, adding my body to one of the many littering its perimeter as surely as it would add my ship to itself.

To my bewilderment, the drones abruptly stopped, suspended in space. A few moments later, they returned to the hive, and somehow I noticed my own drone among them.

I was powerless to do anything but watch. I could feel the pushing presence on my mind, the peace and comfort it exuded. It wanted me to stay as much as I wanted to stay, but there was something deeper within me that rebelled at last; the need to survive.

I had programmed Aura earlier on with an escape vector in case of ambush. All I needed to do was will the auto-pilot to take over.

But I didn’t want to leave. I needed to leave. I wasn’t going to leave. It was time to leave.

My mind couldn’t focus enough to give the command, at war with itself.

Survive. It was a thought of growing importance as the Hive opened its lovely mouth to my pod, inviting me to come be a part of it.

Survive! Together with the hive I could become more than I ever could dream of, and that sounded just lovely.

SURVIVE!

And as had happened many times before, and many times since, the core of who I was, of who I still am, took over.

I was Minmatar. I was Brutor. I was Roc Wieler!

Aura warped the pod away, and none too soon. The hive screamed its anguish at my departure. I screamed in my pod at having to leave. So intense was the pain in my head. So intense was the pain I had inflicted on the hive.

I screamed, but nobody heard.

Several minutes later, I awoke, my pod hanging suspended in space, much like the drones had been at the hive.

The Hive. I had no idea what the hell had happened, or how drones could’ve developed the technology to interact with capsuleer minds on an electrical level, but sure as shit I was happy to be away from that thing.

As I gave the order towards the nearest friendly station, I filed a full military report on the Hive’s location, advising quarantine to all pilots until High Command could better understand the nature of the place.

Days later, I still couldn’t shake the feelings that encounter had left me with. No amount of showering, no amount of working out, no amount of Amarr corpses would make it go away.

I needed help, but didn’t know if help existed.

I was still afraid.

New Loki

RENS VI – MOON 8 – BRUTOR TRIBE TREASURY

It was good to be back in familiar territory. While the last few weeks had been revealing, I could tell from the amount of traffic in the Militia Fleet channel that I was needed back here.

It was time to take the fight to the Amarr once more.

Kade Jeekin, CEO of Kinda’Shujaa, was active again, and trying to breathe life into the corp, and I felt an obligation to him as well.

Fortunately, the two objectives weren’t mutually exclusive.

Nathan Carver had also extended an invitation to wormhole space, and with the recent hacking and analyzing skills I had learned, as well as my growing confidence level in the Onslaught, I considered that it might be time to try that for a while also.

Finally, Sapphrine, CEO of Ushra’Khan, our parent alliance, had been encouraging me to come out to nullsec and take up the Fleet Commander mantle.

Needless to say, my life had options.

Regardless of all that, I wanted nothing more at that moment than to reward myself with a new Loki Strategic Cruiser. Given my last Loki had lasted 20 minutes before dying in Rancer due mostly to my own stupidity, I wanted to do this one up right.

  1. I was buying this one in Rens, not Jita. While it might be a little bit more expensive, it wasn’t as expensive as losing the ship and fitting itself.
  2. I wasn’t in a hurry to fit it. In fact, I was going to get the input of many pilots I knew and respected as to what the ideal fits would be in their opinion, for the different roles I wanted to use the ship for.
  3. I wasn’t going to be flying it around just to show it off.

FIT # 1 KANDJAL

My life tended to be a nice mix of capturing complexes while engaging Amarr pilots. It was a challenge to fit for this in my mind, as I wanted to stick with a PvP fit, but sometimes a PvE fit worked better for complexes. I was looking for a good compromise. Below is what I came up with.

kandjal

High Rez version HERE. This is the standard PvE fit, but I could easily swap out the Invulnerability Fields for a web and scram.

FIT # 2 MSHINDO

I started my military career doing a lot of recon. While some viewed that role as lonely and boring, I enjoyed the solitude. And with a ship like Mshindo, I might even have fun if I was to catch someone unaware.

mshindo

High Rez version HERE. I had played with these fits for weeks, trying to optimize to the best of my ability. And while I was a firm believer in not making your ship fits public, I needed to rely on the input from those with vastly richer experiences than myself.

Below is what the best pilots of New Eden had to say (in the comments section).