Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

A Home of Heartbreak

6owDtTCl.jpg


.:Terminus
.:Outer Rim


The firelight illuminated the dark, wood paneling of the drawing room, haunting throwbacks to an uncivilized time. The figure seated in the chair gestured to her, and as she sat before him on the Harswee rug, he uttered one, simple word.

"How?"

The word brought back the memory. It was recent, vivid, and she told it to him in detail.

She knocked. It took a minute for the door to open, and when it did it was clear he wasn't expecting any company. A Twi'lek of some disrepute, to be standing at the door in only his underwear, a frayed bathrobe falling off his shoulders, seemed disappointing somehow. Undignified. Like she should let him close the door and get dressed, or at least get the ridiculous look of surprise off his face. Then she shrugged.

Not her problem.

A ring sounded beyond the audible range of her Hapan ears, but she knew the sound it made in her mind, and it supplied the effect to her satisfaction. Brandished, the twin vibroknives glinted once in the afternoon sun streaming into the hallway, before vanishing as the girl dove between his legs, rolling to come up behind him. One blade cut at his cheek as he turned around, and he grasped it in pain, shouting out. The other lept from her hand as she threw it, burrowing itself into the door panel's controls. It closed with a satisfying whoosh, and the sparks the panel threw out told her no one would be using it again.

The Twi'lek rushed past her, knocking the girl to the ground, wailing as he did so. She hoped the walls were thicker than most. The lush interior and well-kept appearance of the building suggested it might, but she couldn't take the chance. Her work would need to be done quickly, or not at all. Picking herself up from the floor, she sprinted towards the target. He'd found his way around his desk now and was fiddling with some compartment. Probably a weapon. Maybe an alarm.

A threat either way.

Moving behind him, she jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck, and leaning back. The guttural noise of the Twi'lek choking was her reward, and his hands flew up to grapple with hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist to give herself better purchase as she pulled down, cutting off his air as she did. A twinge of a smile peeked from beyond her dead-set mouth as the near-imperceptible sound of her servos whining. The mechanical implants in her arms and legs, barbaric things that enhanced her strength and stamina, activated. Coupled with her vice-grip on the Twi'lek, they held out against the weakening assaults from his hands and flailing head, until she could feel him losing the fight against consciousness.

Down they went, hitting the floor as she unwrapped her arms and pulled back to avoid getting crushed or a limb sprained. Pulling out the first vibroknife again, she wielded its humming blade to make permanent the silence of the form on the floor.

Mission complete.

Extracting the blade lodged in the door panel, she went to the window and opened it. A quick sigh answered her prayers, the ground was only two floors down, an easy jump for her. The implants in her legs activated as a precaution, she sailed out the window, and fled as quickly as she could back to the transport home.
 
The Zabrak smiled, a toothy grin that showed off his yellowing teeth. It sent a shudder down her spine, he only smiled when he was secretly plotting something. Or when she had done something wrong.

"Good, Allie!" he praised, and she visibly relaxed. The Zabrak seemed to take no notice, for Nekor Shim was not a man to easily reveal his emotions. Or, as Allie secretly suspected, he simply had trouble reading body language. Whatever the case, at least he was not overtly mad in this moment, and she waited as he continued muttering, "Very good."

Allie beamed a little, unable to hold in her own emotions so well. At eleven years old, it was hard for her to resist any opportunity for praise, not from Shim. A job done well meant she could sleep soundly, and not fear the spectre of retribution. In times of wrongdoing, her punishment would come without warning, or not at all, such was Shim's nature. She could never tell whether a fib would earn her no meals for a week, or a failed mission simply a pat on the head with stern words of what not to do in the future. But when praise came, it came wholeheartedly and without much fail.

"I have something for you," the purple-scaled Zabrak said, his thin lips barely registering movement, making his voice sound strained. Allie couldn't be sure how old Shim was, she wasn't exactly sure how Zabraks aged, but it wasn't young. Most days she paid it no mind, but for some reason today it was on full display.

Now was the time for her to temper her emotions. Or at least hide them with others.

"You got me a kitty?" She screamed, jumping to her feet. She caught herself before latching onto Shim, that was the kind of affection she reserved for, well, literally anyone else. Still, Shim's gifts were few and far between, and it was an everpresent dream to own a Felinx as a companion.

The Zabrak turned to study her carefully. It seemed a long time before he answered, and Allie grew sullen at the pause. He began moving towards a box set on the counter, wooden and old, containing whatever thing he had promised her. Perhaps she had said something wrong. Her worries were dashed when he answered, "No, but if you'd prefer a Felinx that can be arranged. I'll just give this back."

She danced around him now, poking her head over the counter to peek at the box, as if she could peer inside it. A thought crossed her mind for a moment, that indeed she might be able to with her enhanced vision granted by the cybernetic eyes Shim had implanted. Childish whim and apprehension overruled any form of sensibility, however, and she pranced instead, hopping backwards as he advanced towards the box, pleading, "No, no, I want to see what you got me. What is it? What is it? Whatisitwhatisitwhatisit?"

Shim chuckled, a rarity, and Allie stopped. Now she knew he was set, she could do no wrong now. If there was any weakness she had found in him over the three years she had been in his care, it was that goofing off in moments like this made him far more pleasant and unwilling to hurt her. And that was only ever a good thing, there were far more moments in which she found it difficult to contain herself, to stay disciplined as Shim would so often put it. Letting go now was a relief.

So was seeing what was in the box.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the Zabrak crept towards it, a grin pulling at his lips, his eyes darting towards Allie in a false show of amusement. She didn't care, she was having fun playing along for the moment. Whatever Shim had for her, it was clearly something special enough to let his guard down for the moment. As he reached the counter, and placed his hands alongside the box, savoring the moment. For her part, she stayed behind him, waiting for the final reveal. When Shim moved aside for her to see, Allie approached, taking in the sight as she did.

Within the old, shabby box was a sleeker, more modern utility container. She placed her hands on it, pausing as she had been trained, feeling Shim's eyes boring through her. It felt neither cold nor warm, nor could the girl feel any vibrations within the container. It felt safe, it looked safe, but she couldn't always be sure. Shim's presents had a way of becoming tests of their own. Still, eager as ever, she undid the latch on the front without much ceremony, and opened the box. She didn't cower or duck, the punishment Shim would mete out from that would have been worse than whatever fate the container had in store for her.

This time, it was utterly benign.

Inside the container, a gleaming, shiny weapon was nestled. Leth shaped, with curves and a glossy duraplast exterior, the gun was beautiful. Alongside were several power packs, intended for the gun's use no doubt, a manual and cleaning supplies. Allie ran her hands over the weapon, as long two spans of her outstretched fingers, with a grip just shy of half that. It was big for her, and as she picked it up she felt the heft, heavier than her knives. It was certainly a big addition to her arsenal.

"Whoa!" She squealed, any facade of control gone, replaced with childish glee. Allie turned to Shim, "You mean it's mine?"

He nodded, and stepped behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Let me show you what it does."

 

Progflaw99

Well-Known Member
3ca243bd5269a463520cb4a051bb6d.jpg

One Week Prior to Zero Hour
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Location: Market District, Terminus
Time: Evening
Affected: [member="Allie"] | [member="Sentiri"] | [member="Jude Falkrowe"]
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

A center of bustling night life, the Market District seemed to run around the clock, only shutting down a few times a year for inspections. This evening was no exception, bright neon lights and the sound of voices and speeders filled the narrow streets, vendors peddling their wares aggressively, the smell of food wafting as people moved about. Light footsteps carried a coated woman along one of the busy avenues, a slowly burning cigarette lit between her fingers. The evening chill had set in, hence the coat. Her footsteps could tell an experienced reader of body language much but to the average onlooker it simply appeared as if she were following the crowd but no, this evening she had places to be. Picking up speed the woman made a cut across the crowded street, headed for a small alleyway connected to the adjoining building by way of a solid metal door.

"Hannigans" as the sign read. The exterior of the corner building was rough, worn durasteel, clouded glass preventing an easy glance into the establishment. Outside the main entrance hung a small bulletin board, posters, notes, wanted ads hung there. Around the steps leading into it a couple of people stood smoking casually and conversing, their words adding to the ambient noise of the Market District. The woman entered the alleyway, slipping into the shadows as another large group passed across the entry, one of the group talking about how alive the evening was. It caused the corners of her lips to rise slightly into a smirk. Yes, it was alive, for now. By the next week there would be several inconveniences that would no longer be able to claim that status.

Val had arrived over a week ago, her cover as a traveling mechanic dropped the moment she'd exited the spaceport in favor of a transient spacer. Mira. It was eerie, the way Valerie was able to flip between personalities, 'legends' as they were known with as much ease as changing clothes. It was part of the reason she'd been selected by the First Order Security Bureau for Agent training. She'd excelled and after several well executed field ops, she'd been promoted to Special Agent, working closely with assets on the ground and coordinating ops with command. This particular operation needed to be conducted with subtlety, a precision that was trusted to her. Angling to the metal door she dropped her cig to the ground, stepping it out as she approached. With a gloved hand she knocked twice, the metal door rattling slightly. Moments passed but they felt like hours. Mira didn't like being this exposed.

A soft click could be heard as the locking mechanism disengaged, the door opening a crack as a gruff voice spoke from the dim hallway inside.

"Down the alley, take a left. Red door."

With a resounding clang, the door was shut. Was that a signal she was on her way or was that a signal for masked men to come forth out of the night to make her disappear? She bit her lip. Mira forced down the anxiety, why was she so flighty? Part of it she was sure had to do with the fact that this was a stepping off point for a deeper enterprise, a long term goal of the FOSB but the other part undoubtedly had to do with the sheer complexity of the upcoming operation. By next week the political landscape on Terminus would be vastly different, at least as far as this portion of the underworld was concerned. She'd been tasked currently to develop a working relationship with an underboss belonging to a criminal organization run by a Zabrak, Shim. The underboss had been identified as particularly unhappy by a cursory intel gathering trip and Val along with Sentiri had taken advantage of it, planning the op in quick order.

As the woman proceeded down the alleyway and made her way around the corner she scanned left and right. Here, between the buildings it was silent, the ambient noise of the streets replaced by a steady dripping of pipes and rustle of garbage. As she approached the red door, it swung open, a masked figure beckoning. This was it. It was here she would coordinate the delivery of First Order supplies, weapons, tech to the underboss and his cronies. The underboss himself? Troska Garen. A particularly large Trandoshan. He was one of the smarter of his species, able to play the game of politics and had risen in the ranks of Shim's organization quickly not only due to his strength as an enforcer but his sharp mind. Mira was taken through a series of corridors until she ended up at an office, the dim lighting casting shadows on shadows. They shuffled her into the room and as her eyes began adjusting, she could see a dark form behind the wooden desk. The amber glow of a lit cigar burned brightly as the Trandoshan took a drag before resting it in an ashtray on the desktop.

"Sssooo... Mira..." he said before flipping on the translator hanging around his neck.

Trandoshans could verbalize the most basic words and phrases but for more complex wordplay they required an automated vocalizer.

"I hear you wish to provide me with opportunity?"

The Trandoshan flourished his three clawed hand in the air, wafts of smoke and haze still hanging in the air. The plan had been agreed upon, it seemed the Trandoshan was posturing, trying to see how much more he could milk out of the deal and that could not be allowed. He had to understand his place in things.. but again, this called for subtlety. Taking a breath, she reached to the inside of her leather jacket, her fingers first resting on the small slugthrower she'd concealed there and then to the datapad. Carefully eyeing the two men in the room posted behind her Mira removed and set the device on the desk, sliding it nimbly towards the Trandoshan.

"These are the terms we have agreed to, I think you will find my employers are prepared to provide what you require. So long as their needs are met, these..." She motioned towards the readout. "...are yours to keep."

Outlined on the screen was a manifest, weapons, gear, tech. All was currently in an unlabeled cargo container on a freighter in orbit. Assuming the Trandoshan didn't try to push his luck too much, he might even walk away from this one. Well, that was what she wanted him to believe, his fate was no longer truly in his hands. With a deep growl Troska grinned. He was pleased.

"This is good. We will agree to your terms."

With no more than a handwave he pushed the datapad back towards Mira. The delivery location and time had already been agreed upon, truthfully this meeting was more of a formality, a seal of approval between the two parties before the final exchange was made. While tangible on the side of the crew, Mira's side of the deal was to be an act, carried out within the week, carefully prepared and orchestrated by the crew with the aid of modern technology. Rising from where she sat, Mira was escorted out of the office, gently brought back to where she had entered the building. They would meet once more, the day of the event. Until then, Mira would square away their own plans. Checking her chrono on the way out the door back into the street she mused. She had a check in to make.
 
That unnamed freighter.
Terminus Orbit.

"Mmmhmm, this sub ain't bad at all." Jude munched on joyfully the rather rich in calories and very tasty sub that had been provided to him in the mess hall of the freighter. "I should've signed up in the Navy. Look at this food, straight out of Go'rdon Ramsee's kitchen on Coruscant."

"You'd never pass the preliminary, Jude." Once again out of nowhere, Jade appeared in the mess hall where the blonde was talking to himself. "I am not even sure if they'd let you to the preliminaries. Did you hit the gym today?"

"Whoa!" Jude almost choked on his food. "Stop popping in like a ghost. Besides how would you know ? Navy heritage much ? Never covered Dad's requirements so you became overambitious and went to the Bureau. Show Daddy that you're more than capable, huh?" Jude spat out chuckling to his superior to which she responded with only a frown and diverting from the topic.

"Did you hit the gym today?"

"Yes." Jude honestly lied as he swallowed a large piece of the sub. "Alright, what's up ? You never appear without a reason and I am sure the gym is not one of them. Did V end up screwing up the whole ops down there on Terminus and I got to clean up after her ?" The man's signature smirk never left his face.

"No." She responded slightly irritated. "V's actually done pretty good. You might as well just learn from her a bit." To that Jude responded with a laugh.

"Please. Let's be honest here, I-"

"Sentiri's summoned you." Jade cut him off and made her way towards the exit. "Now." The doors slid behind her and with a disappointed sigh Jude left his sub on the table and made his way to where the Deputy Director's quarters.

Manners left somewhere in first grade, the agent entered the quarters of the Chiss lady with no warning.

"Tell me, honestly now, Blue, V's gone karked up down and you have to interrupt my enjoyable meal so I can go and fix things." Jude smirked as he leaned on the door frame folding his arms. "Again."


[member="Sentiri"] | [member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Allie"]
 
Image after image floated by, all featuring holos of ships in orbit of Terminus. Even the space above the planet was a datamine. There were whole classes of vessels that were seen nowhere else in the galaxy on Terminus, the biggest trade hub as close as it was to Wild Space. Some of the ships were independent; some arrived in fleets. Scores of the vehicles were a mystery: how did they function, who made them, where did they came from? Terminus was a place where those disparate entities came together and, despite the vast variety of differences were present, still managed to trade commodities with limited hassle of a government body.

For Sentiri, the product she valued most was information. And these ships were just a taste. Any freighter pilot could catalog the types and numbers of vessels, both registered and unregistered, on a simple flyby. But the other questions, those were not so simple. The people of Terminus had a wealth of information to offer, and Sentiri would get all of that data at a discount. Within the week, she would be the one bartering information, the person through whom all of the data of Terminus would go. And without a significant government body in control of the world, it wouldn't be long until Sentiri was the one in control. Knowledge was power.

Though getting to that point was anything but simple.

The Deputy Director's irritation picked up the moment she heard a voice behind her, interrupting her thoughts and her work, conveniently forgetting that she had requested the man's presence. The Chiss woman didn't even turn around to look at [member="Jude Falkrowe"]. "Phase one is complete. Move to phase two. Get us planetside. Contact Garen for delivery. Make no mention of my presence. Ensure that the bugs and hidden cameras we want them to find can be found, and the ones we don't want them to find won't be found." Sentiri did not even bother to dismissively wave off her subordinate. She continued to key her holoscreens as if he had never entered her quarters in the first place.

The Terminus operation was being run in an unorthodox manner. Truthfully, only a select few of her higher ups knew that she was conducting the mission, and no Security Bureau agents save for Jade, Jude, and [member="Val Kordova"] who had arrived separately. With her recent appointment to Interim Director, there was some concern that Sentiri's active involvement in such a mission was a risky maneuver. However, always the perfectionist, there was no one else she would trust to see this through. The Chiss woman had never officially been a field operative with the First Order, but that didn't imply that she was incapable. If this world was to become a second office for her, she didn't just want second hand information. The Deputy Director would be her own source.

[member="Allie"]​
 
Laconic. Straight to the point.
Standard Sentiri.


Jude chuckled as he pushed himself from leaning on the door frame and made his way out of the Director's quarters. The agent made his way towards the cockpit wondering, as always, whether all Chiss were like that or was it her specifically. Perhaps a visit on Csilla could be an enlightening trip and considering the news of war coming from there, who knows ? Perhaps Jude himself may be sent to gather as much intel as he could. Perhaps learn more about those odd blue skinned Chiss.

"Get your ass ready, Jade. We're onto phase two." The blonde said as he passed by where Jade was sitting. She immediately stood up. "I assume you actually know this."

"Correct."

"Alright, are y'all stuck up and laconic in this damn bureau all the time or is it some facade you put on for some odd reason. ?" Jude snapped half jokingly half seriously.

"You've been here for a while now, are you not used to it ?" Jade replied calmly as ever.

"Ugh. Forget that I asked." Jude waved his hand way as he sat down on the pilot's seat. He went through the preliminary system checks and took the ship out of its 'parking spot'. The blonde adjusted the bearing and increased the thrust of the freighter. Immediately traffic control hailed at them and Jade accepted the transmission.

"Terminus Traffic Control. Unknown Freighter, state your business."

"This is the Happy Maiden and we are here for mercantile purposes."

"Confirmed, please transmit your slave-circuit code."

"Done."

"Got it. We're hooked. Dock number is 3784. Prepare to be inspected by the customs. Traffic Control over and out." The transmission ended and Jude turned to Jade.

"Ready ?"

"Always."

--

"You're good to go." The grumpy customs officer disgustingly played with his tongue on his lips as his eyes pierced Jade. The latter did not feel any discomfort. Talk about being a professional. Jude's thoughts wondered if she had ever done stuff with men disgusting as the one who had just inspected their ship for the sake of succeeding in a mission. He waved those thoughts away as he was becoming tempted to dig through he mind with the Force.

"Let's go. Load up the arms crates on the speeder and we're good to go. I will let Sentiri know." Jade instructed him as she left him to do the heavy work.

"Yes, m'lady." He grumbled jokingly.

With the help of a heavy duty droid, Jude's job was made by far easier and by the time Jade had gotten back they were already waiting for her on the speeder. The wayward agent had already lit up a cigarette and as soon as he saw the woman, he tapped on a remote to open the ramp of the freighter. The moment Jade jumped in, the engines roared and off they went into the air space of Terminus. Jude tapped a few buttons on the music terminal of the speeder and music blared out.

"I did not know you listened to those old things ?" Jade raised her eyebrow and fell right into his trap.

"Oh, look, someone's interested in my personal life ?" Jude laughed and she frowned realizing that she was played. "Seriously, though, yeah. I like all sorts of old school stuff. All the new shit that's out there is garbage." He took a glimpse at Jade who already seemed uninterested. "I assume asking you what you listen to would result in you telling me to focus on the mission."

"Correct." She bluntly replied and Jude sighed with a smirk.

The duo's journey through the air space of Terminus would lead them towards the outskirts, the suburbs, where control was less and people such as Troska Garen can easily conduct dirty business. He was certain the Trandoshan had a large presence in the city center but obviously the physical delivery of goods between parties would be conducted away from prying eyes.

"Let Garen know we-"

"Already did. The meeting place and time is the same."

"Hmm, I would've expected it changed. Maybe V did good a job of gaining a bit more of his trust."

"Not surprising. She's been working down here for a while now."

"Indeed. Oh well, I want to get there before 'em, so..." The engines roared as Jude accelerated drastically and diverted away from the main lanes of traffic towards their designated meeting location.

--

"All good, all good. Good, good, Garen, very pleased, good." Could he stop saying good ? Perhaps it was the Weequay's only knowledge of basic. The bowcaster wielding Weequay by the name of Jarez was the representative of the Trandoshan crime lord. Jude kept his smile on but within a scowl began to form. They hadn't found the bugs ?

"Boss, boss, bad, bad. Come, bad, bad." A Selonian jumped out from the speeder's baggage area and approached the Weequay who pierced Jude and Jade with a grimace. "Bugs, bugs. Police, police."

Swiftly, surprisingly swiftly, a hold out blaster was in the Weequay's hand and touched Jude's gut with the muzzle.

"One good reason not to kill you and your girl, now."

"Do it, boy." Jude challenged him equally. His mind opened to the Force and the numerous thoughts around him and feelings surrounded him. The few new bloods that were pointing their arms at the duo of agents were shaking within. It was their first time in such a serious situation where death could be the outcome. The Weequay was a hardened veteran, though but an idiot. You never have your gun so close to your enemy. Yet, the man being an idiot made him more unpredictable. The agent surgically dug through the Weequay's mind and exposed him to fear and reason. Jude saw the Weequay's grip of his weapon slightly ease, his mind was now flooded by questions of what would happen if he pulled that trigger and the only answer that he would receive was a bad one. "Come on, boy. Shoot me. Shoot her. Let's see where that leads." His mind touched Jade's and he felt slight uneasiness within her. She was reading the Weequay's body language and knew that the criminal looked decisive enough to kill them both here and now. Yet, her calm demeanor was still there. Questioning what Jude was doing and at the same time trusting him. His fellow agent was torn between trusting his actions or not. The unpredictable asset.

"What do you think ? We'll just give you all this without some more leverage for us ? Open your eyes, fool, we're criminals. Just like you. Let's see what Garen thinks, ey, after you blast us to bits." Jude proceeded to hammer the man with doubt both verbally and mentally until the Weequay put his blaster down and ordered the Selonian to take the bugs off and destroy them.

"You live." The criminal brute commented as he turned his back towards the duo. "For now." Jude kept his eyes on the Weequay's back untill all left. That's when Jade immediately reported to Sentiri what had occurred. Would Jude be questioned of his actions by Jade and maybe even Sentiri after ? Who knows. They knew who he was and how he worked.

[member="Sentiri"] | [member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Allie"]
 
She woke before the dawn. No alarm or light prompted her body to end sleep, only a conditioned response. In the Hutt Jabrukka's harem, Allie had to hide and be quiet before any of the Hutt's minions woke up; they had a habit of taking advantage of the slave women who cared for Allie, and their night time visits were a constant source of fear over whether one of the Hutt's inebriated goons saw Allie as a target of their conquests. With some luck, few had laid a hand on her, and none had gotten further than that thanks to her ever-watchful carers. Still, as the girl rose from her slumber, she was instinctively aware of her surroundings, and breathed an audible sigh of relief as she realized she was alone.

It had taken a year to dispense with the urge to find somewhere to hide in addition. For whatever evils Shim had done to her, mutilating her body with surgical implants, breaking down her spirit and building up her body with hard training, and sending her on heartless mission after mission, he never once made an advance on her or let anyone else do the same. Shim was no saint, she knew well, but he was hardly a monster.

If anything, he was her savior.

Shim had rescued her from that Hutt's palace, where her fate would have surely been the same as her harem sisters. Or her mother, perhaps. She had the attitude for it, the sassy mouth and petulant lips, lips that turned out at Shim often enough to visible enrage him. Sometimes to the point of moving to strike her. Once, he did. It was a mistake on his part, and Allie realized only later that his hand only stayed now because of his own fear of her. Of what he had made her. Of the simple power she held over him.

Sometimes it did occur to her just how easily she could kill Shim. Her mind would often play out scenarios in times of boredom or idleness, just to see if she could. Other times, she convinced herself it was an exercise to keep her mind sharp and her skills ready for the next mission. There was rarely a chance to plan in advance for those missions, so running through different scenarios on her own gave her options to use on the fly. Or so she told herself.

Perhaps the reality was much simpler than that.

Perhaps, Allie wondered as she sat across from her savior, her master, Shim, at the table over breakfast, she was just waiting for the right moment. The right time to dispose of him and walk out on her own. Or, she sometimes wondered, perhaps to take over his organization. Being a former Black Sun vigo, Shim's empire stretched throughout the underworld of Terminus, from the black market, to legitimate fronts and even the backing of several local government officials. There was money to be made and power to be had in the seat of Shim's empire. Those could seriously attract someone looking to take over, looking to usurp the Zabrak from his throne.

She wasn't someone. She was Allie.

"Something bothering you, my dear?" Came the thin voice of Nekor Shim from across the table. Allie looked up, her mouth hanging open with a half-chewed bit of egg inside, her thoughts violently interrupted by the question. The scales on the sides of his head pulsed in time with his heartbeats, and in her mind a vibroknife suddenly appeared between them. She closed her mouth, chewed a few moments and then swallowed.

Smiling sweetly and blinking once, the girl tilted her head to look at him. "Why," she said, "Nothing at all."
 

Progflaw99

Well-Known Member
concept%20art%20machinery%20warehouse%20barrels%20interior%20spaces%20broken%20wall%20philip%20straub_www.artwallpaperhi.com_99.jpg
One Day Prior to Zero Hour
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Location: Warehouse District, Terminus
Time: Late Morning
Affected: [member="Allie"] | [member="Sentiri"] | [member="Jude Falkrowe"]
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

The sun had risen hours ago, the sounds of heavy machinery and the constant ebb and flow of delivery shuttles and speeders filling the narrow and complex system of causeways in the Warehouse District of Terminus. Val had once again assumed the identity of Mira Volantis a transient day worker, travelling from planet to planet in search of any work that would put credits in her pocket and food in her stomach. She'd arrived on a cargo freighter carrying primarily video game equipment, a particularly odd shipment to be sure but then again, Mira had little time for luxuries
like electronic gaming so perhaps not that odd after-all.

A loud rumble shook the street as a particularly overloaded shuttle thundered by where Mira stood. She'd been leaning against the alley wall, foot propped up against it as she smoked a cigarette. That was the cue. As the shuttle continued on its way she stood, dropping the cigarette to the ground and grinding it into the duracrete. Turning on her heel she stepped briskly across the small street and headed towards the warehouse with the green roof. It was a curved roof like many of the warehouses around her but this one had once been a burnished bronze but years of use and neglected upkeep had tarnished it, a green hue slowly taking away the shine. She could feel the eyes on her as she proceeded towards it, the cameras hidden to the casual visitor the Terminus' Warehouse District but to a trained eye such as hers they might as well have been advertised. She noticed them but continued on her way, taking care not to look at any of them directly.

Peripheral vision had been one area she'd particularly excelled at during her evaluations as a Field Agent, able to pick up on subtle movements in the very corners of her field of view. As she rounded another corner she'd seen a flicker of movement from a nearby warehouse, someone was peeking around the corner. Not human. Mira had not been followed, that she was sure of so this must be one of Troska's men. Dismissing it she set her sights on a small admin building ahead. The meet here would also be short, but it was required. As she approached two men appeared through the doorway to the small shack.

Last time she had been a mere messenger, this time it was to instill the fear of what would happen should he double cross them. Ironic she thought, that she would deliver a message about betrayal given the circumstances. She smiled at the two men as one held up his hand. Of course, the customary weapons check. That was the thing about FOSB Agents, specifically Val. She was the weapon. Blasters, knives, poison, they were tools to finish the job but the real weapon was the agent itself. As the guards patted her down they found no weapons and gave her a careful stare. The larger of the two reached out and swung open the door for her. Smiling she walked past them into the small structure.
- - - - - - - - - -​

Troska grinned. He'd been pleased with the hardware, even gotten to test it. Arguably, not nearly as long as he would have liked to but it seemed in good order. The Trandoshan was a fairly high level boss in Shim's organization, helping with logistics and moving assets from place to place, usually under the local authority's nose. Well, technically they were the authority. Maybe not in name, or legality but out here in the streets they were the law. At first it had held a decent amount of prestige but Troska wasn't happy anymore. Sure, he'd seen great success and even had a sizable nest egg in case things went south for him but he craved power. He was tired of always having to look up the chain... soon that would change.

His thoughts were interrupted as he ran his hand across one of the many heavy duty transit cases he'd received earlier in the week. For months now he'd been plotting and scheming, trying to make the numbers add up but always he ran into a problem. Shim's guards were always equipped with the latest gear, the newest weapons. Despite being an upper level boss, he was still in the little leagues, never really being allowed to flourish without 'giving his due' to Shim. It was a raw point of contention for him, always feeling like he was the one doing all the work for less gain. Above where he stood inside the warehouse a small metal staircase led to the attached office, on the landing was his contact. He had known her only as Mira. Normally he would have held far too many reservations but he'd had a run of bad luck lately and he was desperate.

Waving his clawed hand towards the woman she began descending the stairs towards where he stood. As she did so, he unclipped the clasps on the case, raising the lid. Inside, neatly lined and set in impact resistant foam were blaster rifles. Not your run of the mill castaways from the battlefield or found in back street stalls being sold for cash. The only similarities with their 'street' counterparts were the neatly filed serial numbers. They were clean... and powerful. If he wasn't mistaken, the supplier must have had connections, these were the newer F11-D Blaster Rifles.

"You speak truth. Good weapons. " the Trandoshan spoke in basic as best he could. He motioned at the brand new weapons, his teeth showing as his reptilian eyes sparkled. He ran his scaled hand over the rifles and turned to face the woman. As she approached she spoke.

"Of course, I told you my suppliers were good for it. Now all that's left is to carry out your part of the deal. This could be quite beneficial for both of us, as discussed."

The Trandoshan nodded. This time speaking through a translator, his strange language sounding with a slight pause before the actuator kicked in after speaking.

"Your people bugged my shipment, why I should not shoot you now?" His fingers gripped a rifle as he pulled it free. He aimed the blaster casually at the woman's chest as her footsteps stopped. He knew well why he shouldn't shoot her, they'd promised more. More weapons, more technology. It would not only help him ascend the ladder but stay there once he took care of Shim. The woman paused, only a few feet from the Trandoshan, the barrel of the raised blaster almost point blank to her torso.

"You and I both know exactly why. Look at that weapon for a moment Troska. I'll wait."

Her demeanor had changed. This was not the same transient he'd met a week ago when their terms were finalized. No, there was something dark hidden behind her unassuming appearance. It made his skin crawl. Nervously his eyes glanced down at the blaster in his hand. That was mistake number one. In one swift movement the woman had shifted, slipping inside the tip of the blaster. The next thing Troska saw was a flash as a blade appeared in her hand and pressed against his neck. Little more than a fraction of a second had passed, all he had time to do was utter a short shout of surprise before the woman was whispering in his ear.

"Let's stop with the games, shall we? It's simple. I need you, and you need these weapons."

In the few seconds that had passed, a few of Troska's guards had drawn their own blaster pistols, the danger of accidentally hitting the Trandoshan instead of the woman the only think staying their trigger fingers. As if to reduce that threat, Troska uttered a somewhat belabored rebuke.
"Stand down!"

He shivered. He had seen it coming and yet he had ignored the warnings.

"You win... Always were going to finish job. As agreed."

Almost reluctantly the woman took a full step back from the now wary Trandoshan.

"Good." With a flick of her wrist, she made the blade disappear. "Then I trust you will do this soon?"

Trosk growled.

"Yes. Tomorrow. You will stay clear as agreed." The translator had kicked in. "We must be the ones to do it, you will not get in our way."

The woman nodded, taking another step back and turning. As she headed up the stairs and toward the office she spoke, a sing-songy tone to her voice.

"You don't need to ask what will happen to you if you fail... best of luck!"

She exited the warehouse. Trosk violently slammed the lid on the case, frustration evident. That woman had just called his bluff, they both knew he was getting the better deal here. Weapons. Tech. A seat of power in the Terminus Underworld. He had pushed his luck. Forcing it to the back of his mind he shouted at the guards.

"Well, you know what to do. Tomorrow! Get a move on!"

There were plenty of preparations to be made despite their plans. He had always planned on carrying out the hit, and even had it pegged for tomorrow but the fact the woman had called him on it had made him angry. She would see. Once he had ascended to the top of the ladder, the suppliers could be dealt with, and by their own weapons. The thought warmed the heart of the Trandoshan, his thoughts on revenge and the events that were about to unfold.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom