Private Broken Angels

[Lucien Dooku]

Underworld Marketplace, Colony One, Ylesia
[vibes]​

The job was simple enough in his opinion. The plan more or less consisted of getting in, getting out, and preferably avoid getting his head blasted, cut or somehow removed from his torso in the process A Hutt crimeboss that he considered a personal friend of sorts [if being a friend with a Hutt crimeboss was truly possible, that is] had given Lucien a tip on a smuggler crew that had burned themselves bad enough to make their cargo fair game. The crew themselves applied to this motion as well, but if possible he preferred to avoid conflict whenever he could. Truth be told, Lucien could've took out their captain a good week prior to his current-day presence on Ylesia. He'd tracked the group for several worlds throughout Hutt space, carefully ensuring his presence was little more than a ghost the entire time.

They were natives to the region from what he could tell; their leader definitely had a family back on Ziugen, the first-mate a Twi'lek girlfriend on Rorak 4, and their mechanic seemingly grew up on Affavan at some point. He deducted the last one, if he were to be honest, but it wasn't that often that his intuition was far off from the truth. His time shadowing the fools had given him a decent enough insight into how the group operated, their habits, some of their favored choice of cargo, and even the connection the lot shared with eachother. The sympathetic kid within him started to empathize with his targets after a while, and that was something he couldn't let happen. A job was a job, and no matter how humanized they had become over the past week, it was a fact that the majority -- if not all -- of the men and women that made up their crew were scoundrels of the finest variety. The Hutt that gave him the job made sure to press onto Luc that they counted murderers, not just thieves, among their ranks. The thought made him chuckle in the present; Even a killer was nothing more than your average person on the day and circumstance you looked at them through a lens.

He wouldn't have to tackle the crew and his thoughts on his own, at least. His 'friend' passed him the information to a man that did the occasional odd-job for him whenever he was in-system. He couldn't tell him what he looked like beneath his mask, but he was an effective gun-for-hire, smuggler, or whatever else you needed him to be. His name was odd, but Lucien wouldn't judge a man who could show him results. Their meet-up was brief and it resolved itself right there on Ylesia a few hours prior to the current time and place. Lucien gave him the run-down on the job, but only enough information to not get him killed for no reason.

It was a test for the man named Wimbly as much as it was a favor for Luc's friend. Well, a friend of Luc's friend. Those Hutts were tight enough in that section of the galaxy that it was impossible to know one without them knowing more than a dozen others in the same region of space. Currently the two men were enjoying a casual stroll through a large marketplace located in the eastern fringe of Ylesia's Colony One, the de-facto capitol of the ocean-covered planet. Their assignment had stopped their to pick up the last of their cargo and were planning to leave the world for one of the backwater planets on the edge of Hutt Space from what he'd been told. Their ship had docked in a port not far from the marketplace itself, but unfortunately he'd lost track of the exact location through the hustle-and-bustle of the city's streets.

Luc's hands rested in his pockets as he strolled casually down the kilometers-long walkways that comprised the bustling marketplace. Wimbly was to his side, and until that point the dialogue between the two of them had been nonexistent for the most part. A dozen meters head of them, the group's head mechanic wandered through the marketplace, a crate of parts in his hands and a pair of service droids trailing behind him. Their current prey would lead them right to the spaceport, and from there it was just a matter of forcibly acquiring both their ship and cargo before making a daring escape off-world, traveling back to Silver Jedi space and delivering their cargo to his Hutt-friend on Keldooine. The pay-out was substantially worth the trouble, for both of them, and for Wimbly it was well-worth the extra benefit in connections too.

Until then, the two of them had a bit of time to kill while their target led them to the next step of their plan. Luc activated the HUD with a blink of his eyes, the Cyber lenses locking onto the mechanic and his droids with a trio of red "blips" that filtered through the mass of people around them. It was safety measure in-case he managed to lose track of them, as he wanted to focus his attention elsewhere until the situation called for more focus. Afterwards he shifted his attention over to the masked-individual next to him, a smirk curling onto his lips before he raised his voice and spoke. "It's been bothering me for a couple of hours now." He began, a hand exiting his pocket and tapping at his chin. "Is Wembly really your name? I mean-- if it is, that's totally fair. Just, uh, can't say I've heard a human with a name like that before."

It was small-talk at its finest. Granted it may have came off a little on the insulting side, his tone and demeanor didn't exactly give off much besides a curious spacer out to figure out who his partner-in-crime was. Luc liked knowing who he was working with, and the whole motif of a masked-figure was a bit too impersonal for him when combined with how quiet the man was so far.


Wimbly

 

[Wimbly]

Big cities had always been a hard choice to make. Wimbly hated the big crowds and untold peoples surrounding every street corner and shop, but in his recent years doing less-than-legal jobs around the outer rim, he had also come to love exactly those problems. They offered escapes, alibis, sometimes cover in a worst-case-scenario. It hadn't taken him very long to realize the worth of major ports when it came to jobs, especially ports that specialized in his type of work.

Wimbly was a simple man. He'd take a job he thought he was capable of completing (which was most any that was offered), he'd do the job, he'd get paid, rinse and repeat. There were a few close calls in his past so far, but that was more because he's too proud to quit a job once he's taken it. For the most part, if Wimbly shook on the task, it would get done eventually.

But this job was a little different. He never liked the Hutt, but he brought in money, so Wimbly was willing to grit his teeth a little. Plus this job intrigued Wimbly. Some pretty-boy that looked like he had too much money to be running a gig like this, regardless of how much he wanted to hide it. His description was brief, to the point. We take out the crew, take the ship and its cargo, and turn it in for whatever it was worth. Since the kid was tagging along, this freelancer wasn't about to question too much. If something came up, it'd be on the other guy's head, and thus his job to figure out.

For now, though, the crowds and noise were working to their advantage. Trailing somebody is a hell of a lot easier when they can't make out individual faces -- or voices now -- among the hundreds of others surrounding them. Lucien had piped up some half-wit question to try and pass some time. Wimbly, however, was too focused on keeping his target in sight. He walked along beside the other, not taking his eyes off their quarry as his voice came through the mask, modulated and gruff. "Who ever said I was a human?" Wimbly preferred short answers when he could give them, especially those that he didn't know nor trust very well. He continued walking, the apparent Engineer of their target vessel still passing between stalls and shops ahead of them. He had only his blaster pistol at his hip this time. No sense in drawing attention by carrying around a military grade rifle. His stride was confident and calculated, as if trained to keep his mind on the prize instead of being distracted by the little things around him.

Lucien Dooku

 

[Lucien Dooku]

Luc smirked. "Not me, mate. All I said was I never heard of a human with that name before." He finished with a smirk aimed at his companion. The hand tapping at his chin went back into his pocket, blue-grey eyes shifting between the masked alien and the occasional passerby or two that walked around the pair of freelancers. "But that aside, we've got some time to kill while we're trailing this sorry guy. I've got him and his droids tagged on my hud in case they somehow pull a fast one on us." It was an unlikely scenario considering the aforementioned tracking going on, plus the mechanic didn't strike him as the brightest individual out of their bunch of misfits.

Out of the lot of the smuggler crew, Luc had determined the man to easily be the weakest link in the group. The rest were seasoned smugglers and killers, but this man didn't have the stones to partake in the hard decisions that the rest of his comrades were fine with. That was partially the reason he was sent out to run errands from what he gathered. They acquired their cargo across several worlds, sometimes through legitimate means -- for a smuggler -- and other times through methods so cutthroat that they trailed a thin line between merchants and robbers. The weakest link in their group just so happened to be a damned good mechanic, so they put up with him for better or for worse.

He stopped at a nearby stall to peruse through some more hardware causing Luc to roll his eyes and audibly letting out a sigh. The freelancer stepped off to the side and grabbed a pair Muja fruit off a nearby merchant's stall before rejoining his comrade amidst the crowd of people traveling through the streets. "So where ya' from Wimbly? We might be strangers, but for the time being we're partners." He began, tossing one of the Muja's towards him and taking a hefty bite out of the other.

Wimbly

 

[Wimbly]

Even though he knew it was obscured, Wimbly made hidden eye contact with his partner, studying him for a brief moment. Then, he turned back to get their target back in sights. His only response to the statements of the human was a low grunt of acknowledgement.

At the sigh of his coworker some several minutes later, Wimbly decided he'd relax a little bit. After all, it's not the war zone he had managed to escape. He reached out a hand to catch the thrown fruit, giving it a quick once-over before tossing it in the tattered bag slung over his shoulder. A snack for when he was in private, perhaps. "Likely some place a lot rougher than you, kid." After a brief moment of silence, he spoke again, though didn't bother looking at the human. "A backwater scum called Reuss." He cut off there, not bothering to elaborate any further at this point. Instead, he pulled his blaster out passively, giving it a quick inspection to ensure it was loaded before dropping it back into his hip-mounted holster.

Lucien Dooku

 

[Lucien Dooku]

"Likely some place a lot rougher than you, kid."

Luc couldn't argue with that. Wembly knew nothing about him, and as such it probably was unlikely that he was even remotely aware of the details surrounding his upbringing. "Ha, You got me there mate~" He replied with a grin, his hands raising into the air at either side of him in an exaggerated sign of defeat. "I've heard of the Reuss system- never been there myself, but the general consensus is both six and eight are hives of scum and misery of the highest caliber." In all fairness to the man, the Outer Rim was filled with hundreds of worlds that were equally as terrible. Surviving the dangerous game of life on a most of the hellscapes that were the poorer rimward planet was a tremendous feat in itself. Luc pondered on the thought that in doing so, many of his fellow scoundrels were almost destined to taking up an occupation where illegal activities were the whole job description.

Those who came from the more prosperous worlds on the Rim might've attempted to empathize with someone in his shoes, but Luc didn't have it in him to show empathy for someone who clearly made himself into someone who didn't need empathy to get by. Wembly was a survivor, and Luc respected that feat enough to not disrespect him with pity or words of kindness to sugarcoat what truly came across his mind at the time. "As for me, I grew up on Serreno over in the D'astan sector of the Rim." Granted he wasn't about to and spill the full truth on his backstory, nor did he feel it would contribute positively to the conversation. "Might as well consider it an ivory tower when you put it up against Reuss, butI digress, I've spent the better part of the past decade living on a ship ."

The red blips off in the corner of his sight motioned away from the market stall by then. The mechanic was on the move once more with a few more items in tow. Luc motioned a thumb in their direction before continuing to tail the man and his droids once again. He kept up a slow enough gait to maintain the comfortable distance that the pair kept between them and their target, his mind once more slipping into his thoughts after the brief exchange of words had come and gone. The streets slowly went from covered in the denizens of Colony One to being sparingly populated as they reached the tail-end of the of the market and entered the spacer's section of the city. Smugglers and legitimate interstellar merchants alike were now becoming the norm over the native inhabitants from before The rows of market stalls were replaced with spaceports on either side of the street; it was still fairly busy as one might expect from the capitol city a planet with sparse amount of habitable land.

Their target was no longer out to peruse a merchant's wares, and it was safe to assume he was finally leading them back to the spaceport his fellow colleagues were holed up in. They presumably still had a fair distance to go though, and Luc once again felt disinterested at the lack of banter between him and his comrade. "So tell me, Wembly--" His eyes shifted to the side as he peered at his companion from the corner of his eyes, the blips on his AR-hud moving predictably down the road as before. "Jinnosha said this job should come with a hefty payout if we manage to deliver the ship and cargo intact. We're talking fifty-thousand credits minimum." A generous amount, not including the extra creds they were bound to get once they called in the bounty on the crew's Captain and First mate. "For a guy like myself, i'm hopin' to invest a bit on a lucrative opportunity a buddy of mine sent my way. There's a sabacc tournament up in the Core on Corellia; lots of influential players in our line of work should be there, if you get my drift."

 

[Wimbly]

After getting away from the thugs of his old life, Wimbly had decided silence would be in his best interest. Keep a low profile, do the jobs he was given, get paid, and move on. No chance for creating bonds that could be used against him, minimal threat of betrayal, and less information for those that would wish to ruin him down the line. It seemed like the optimal option. Being mysterious was certainly an over-used trope, but there were very clear reasons such a tactic was so useful, particularly in activities directly countering laws.

But this particular companion didn't seem too keen on allowing him such simple pleasures. Wimbly had to admit, he missed the bonds and rivalries he'd created with some of the assholes back home, but he had a much better life now. Why ruin that for a little socializing? Regardless, he thought he'd give his comrade the bare minimum so he could avoid putting a bullet in one of their brains. "Gambling on sabacc? Risky game to pick. I prefer more stable means of losing money." He kept their target in sight, making sure the predictable path remained as such. Not much chance of change, but you never know with smugglers.

Lucien Dooku

 

[Lucien Dooku]

Luc gave off a sly grin, his eyes briefly coming to a narrow as his shoulders scrunched up into a shrug. A 'tch' left his mouth, though it wasn't as much of a scoff as it was a natural reaction to Wimbly's response. "High stakes Sabacc, Pod-racin' tournaments, Underground fighting and even hangin' around a seedy cantina-" Luc began to speak, his head turning on the swivel enough for Wimbly to comfortably sit within his peripheral. "They're definitely risky activities, i'll give you that." He chuckled, his arm raising forwards and lining up with the target who was too stupid to figure out he was being tailed. He pointed a finger-gun at the back of the man's head, his thumb igniting the figurative trigger whilst the rest of his hand performed a jerk at the imaginary recoil. "But, all of 'em are just as risky as wet-work, or even smuggling if that's your primary trade. Our friend over there and his friends are the prime example of this, and on the other hand, it's always a possibility that we might end up an example too-- if we suck at our job."

He lowered his arm after the end of his speech, a wink being directed at his companion with the eye closest to him. Luc wasn't giving him a lecture in the slightest, and it was reflected in the lack of matter-of-fact from his tone and the clear blase attitude that flowed with every word coming off his tongue. Life was a gamble in itself, and his philosophy was to live every day however you wanted to with a clear disregard for cultural or societal norms if necessary. "Granted- If your interest in stability is where you sit more comfortably, more power to ya' my friend. I'm just sayin'- stability, much like everything in this existence we call living, is a matter of relativity."

Their target finally came to a stop after what felt like a good hour or more of trailing his every move. Luc wasn't a bounty hunter, which meant that he wasn't keen on the whole tracking people for hours on end thing in order to complete a job. Regardless, they did what was needed, and finally the spaceport, and the meat of their job, was here. "But what do I know. I'm just some kid who's running from reality and having fun while making credits~" He shoved his hands back into his pockets, his signature expression returning to his face as he turned his gaze back towards their target. The trio of red blips entered the multi-level spaceport a few seconds later, though leaving the pair's visual range mattered little thanks to the handful of tech Luc kept on his person. Bounty hunter or not, the kid had enough tech on him to really make the occupation viable, even if it wasn't his thing.

Luc gestured towards the automated doors ahead of them with his head before strolling forwards as calm as his usual self was. "He's got a headstart, but that means nothing besides the ball has shifted into our court; and I believe we have the advantage in this game of cat-and-mouse." One of the lenses within his eye pulsated with a visibly bright shade of blue, allowing his partner to distinguish it as the device that he'd been insinuating on actively using since long before they'd exited the market. The unaware crew of blacklisted smugglers wouldn't have a clue about the storm that was soon to befall their little family unit of cutthroats and scoundrels, and that made the anticipation all the more exciting as the clock continued to click.

Wimbly

 

[Wimbly]

Wimbly didn't break a stride as he moved towards the door beyond which their quarry lay. It wasn't that he was being impatient. In fact he was generally quite the opposite, contrary to what many would think given his upbringing. (That is, if anybody were to ever learn of his upbringing in the first place.) Back to the doorway though, his confidence and lack of hesitation was more because he didn't want to give the enemy any time to get settled in and ready should they receive any unexpected guests. He wouldn't let them have any more time than was necessary. His right hand rested very near the handle of his blaster pistol the entire time, ready to draw it at any threat.

He moved calmly into the spaceport, not bothering to see if the companion was following or even leading. He had caught a glimpse of where the engineer had gone as he crossed the doorway, so that's where he was headed. After presumably getting a little ways ahead of his companion and unfortunately losing which direction the target had gone, he finally stopped, allowing the other to catch up in his leisurely way. Wimbly simply stared, offering a minute nod in the last direction he'd seen the target go. "Lost him. Guessin' yeh still got the trail though, yeh?" He seemed to have dropped his previous accent of well-pronounced and understandable Basic, though seeing as Wimbly hadn't talked much anyway, it was more of a tone change than anything else noticeable. His emotionless mask awaited a response from the younger man, but his shoulders slumped ever so slightly as if a little disappointed.

Lucien Dooku

 

[Lucien Dooku]

Luc dialed back his strut as his partner-in-crime surged forwards ahead of him after the soon-to-disappear group that they were tracking. The trio of organic and droids crossed the threshold, entering into a doorway that connecting them to the spaceport's lobby of turbolifts from what he could assume. The red blips on his AR-Hud surged upwards several levels, after all, and a short trek towards the aforementioned door would confirm his suspicion in any case. "Lost him. Guessin' yeh still got the trail though, yeh?" Wimbly said, to which Luc responded with a nod and a quickly said "Of course". The man's dialect changed into something a bit more natural, though Luc shrugged it off as he dealt with his own dialect coming out at times as well. "Looks like they went up to the fourth level- i'm guessing bay five or six, without an actual layout of this place's schematics."

Pointing towards the middle of three turbolifts, Luc moved to call it back down from the panel off to its side. "We take the middle lift and it should bring us smack-dab in the middle of the level." He said out loud, the lift's whine eventually coming to a halt as it reached the bottom floor and opened up for them to get into. Luc stepped in first, taking a spot that allowed him to lean a foot against the back of the wall behind him. He removed his jacket, tying it around his waist and ensuring his shoulder-holsters were tightly strapped onto his body. "Once we get to their bay, we're running in their mostly blind, outside the three that i've been tracking." Luc said, using the lull they were given to get a bit of useful information out there on their plan.

It would also be evident to Wimbly that Luc perhaps was not all that he seemed. The pair of holsters beneath his shoulders sported an ornate dagger in one, and an all-black lightsaber hilt in another. The utility belt that had been partially concealed was also revealed to have more than its fair share of items attached to it before the tied-up jacket covered them up fully this time around. "The boss wants the Captain and his first mate preferably alive, although dead wasn't implicitly implied to be a breach of the contract. The point being-- we get paid more for transporting them back to Keldooine in one piece. I doubt their crew will simply let us commandeer their leadership and their vessel, though. So yeah-- Expect the worse, but let's try and plan for the best, all gunfights aside, yeah?" He smirked, the turbolift doors opening to reveal a single Rodian who he recognized immediately as one of seedier elements of their target's crew.

A hand drifted across to his holster within the blink of an eye, his arm whipping forwards as the ornate vibrodagger lit with energy, cutting through the air and embedding itself through the front of its neck, the blade emerging from the back as it struggled to form any sort of comprehensive word. That same hand closed into a fist, jerking back towards Lucien's form as the Rodian was dragged through the air and collided into the back of the turbolift -- in between him and Wimbly, that is -- before his lifeless form had the opportunity to stain the spaceport's floor with anymore of its blood. The vibrodagger was removed from the corpse, the blood wiped onto the back of the Rodian's jacket before he shot a glance across to Wimbly, his free hand reaching into his pocket as he tossed the man a holographic tracking fob.

"Our targets visual profiles were graciously provided before the mission. In any case, go ahead and keep the fob, I don't need it~" He chuckled, a finger pointing to the glowing lens which covered his eye. Afterwards he stepped over the Rodian's corpse, peering out into the corridor to ensure it was clear before finally crossing the threshold into the open. The trio of blips were eight bays over, not five or six like he assumed. "Bay Eight." He said, correcting his previous assumption for his partner to hear. "Care to take the lead on this one?"

Wimbly

 

[Wimbly]

Wimbly nodded silently at the destination, then followed the other into the lifts. He listened to the explanations of their task on the ride up, then watched with cold, calm silence as his comrade killed the Rodian with expert precision and speed. Noting the lightsaber previously, Wimbly wasn't surprised when the body flew through the air only to collide in a heap between them. Wimbly looked down at the crew mate, then back to make eye contact with Lucien. "How interesting." Wimbly thought to himself. "Seems there's more to him after all." Wimbly took hold of the hologram, looking over each target closely to mark in his mind which ones to keep alive if possible. After looking through them, he slid the fob into his pocket, drawing his blaster with a small flourish.

Wimbly nods to the question, taking point on the walk to Bay Eight, the supposed resting place of their quarry. His steps become quick and efficient, though nearly silent on the metal floor. His movement carried him to the target landing bay with everything but his legs remaining almost perfectly level. His aim would be deadly should something come up unexpectedly. The masked figure comes to the door and leans against the wall next to it, waiting for his comrade to approach. "You open, I shoot. I can target however many are in the open, but the cap and his mate are yours, assuming its not just them in there."

Lucien Dooku

 

[Lucien Dooku]

"I doubt it'll be." Luc said off-handedly as he shifted to the let side of the door and pressed his back against the wall. A hand traced across the wall while Wimbly himself moved into position, settling on top of the keypad that barred access into the hangar. "The manifest I was sent pointed to a crew of ten at most. They're workin' off one of those old YT-freighters; it's fast, don't get me wrong, but it ain't all that spacious for an outfit of their size." He finished with a grin, then returned his attention back towards the keypad beneath his hand. With one of their comrades bleeding out on the floor a couple dozen feet away from them, that was one less scoundrel that they needed to deal with. He wasn't concerned with their engineer or the other new additions on their list, but the core of their crew would not be as easily pressed into bowing down once the bolts began to fly.

His fingers tapped against the first three series of digits upon the keypad as he shifted a gaze towards Wimbly. "Ready?" He asked, returning his eyes towards the door and entering the last set of numbers needed, an affirmative tone emanating from the pad itself being followed by the tell-tale slide of the door itself. A number of individuals were revealed once the door fully slid back into the wall; the crew were scattered across the facility, busying themselves with loading a number of crates into the cargo bay or performing maintenance on the aging vessel. Luc paused for a moment, an open palm being brought close to his chest but pointed towards Wimbly in order to signal the man to stop for a moment.

They expected to go in the room guns-blazing, but between the noise and spread out positions of the crew, there wasn't a single soul who picked up the door sliding itself open on its "own". He shifted his hand towards the door, a finger pointing towards the nearest stack of crates to the immediate left on the inside of the door. "Let's set up." He said quietly enough for his partner to hear. Afterwards he pointed towards another covered position on the right, then gave Wimbly the signal to proceed inside first. Lucien followed after once the masked-man made his entry into the room, a low and quick dash towards a separate pile of crates on the right being his choice of positioning for their ambush. The door behind them slid closed once the two were in, and Luc peered from over the crates to see if they'd caught their attention as of yet.

"We're clear." He said over his commlink now that a bit of discretion was needed to succeed in their plan. A pistol entered his hands as he peered across the facility and counted off the number of people that he could see ."I count eight, maybe nine." He continued. "Not including the Captain, the first mate and the dead Rodian outside." Including the missing members, their total crew count was a bit higher than his sources had estimated,, but out of the group that were present, only a few appeared to be the hardened thugs that they were warned about. While the entire crew appeared to be armed with at least a blaster, Luc was able to spot a couple disruptors being carried by the handful of men who walked with more confidence than the other.

"Well, there's no turning back now, right? Let's clean up their heaviest hitters first and make sure this turns into a milk run." He chimed in again, a hand reaching down to his belt and unclipping a spherical object into his hand. "Make the move and i'll follow."