Eating away to himself with extra snacks brought up from downstairs, it seemed the takeout wasn't enough of an energy resource for what Jordi had in mind for the rest of the night, as many and more of those carbohydrates were expected to be burned through within the first hour of his attempt to infiltrate the Sorannis compound, and the Kandaran needed every last reserve of strength and cardiovascular fortitude to achieve his aims without having to rely on second and third-man external factors. Massad wanted this to be solo from the start, and in knowing what these men were incapable of, especially when working in the field together, so the Imperial had no real trouble accepting both the risks - nor any trouble with the doubling of his efforts to prevail. These were just the things Jordi knew he had to deal with if he wished to gain a gleaming track-record, such that put him in a position that was strategically-workable for Don Belkora's plans going forward, but none knew it was the journey of the upward trajectory on it's own that Massad seemed to love about it most of all.
With all the snacks then finished to the bottom of each and every container he was given, Jordi briefly went to the bathroom, washing his hands and giving his face a cold splash before returning to the same place he'd been sitting for three hours, on a footstool by the window - in complete silence.
Planning his steps, where he would go to reach the center of the compound itself, the Kandaran was able to get a good read on where every gangster was stationed through his long-range binoculars, nightvision/thermal goggles and rough guesses as to how they would protect their interests beyond that point. Not the Imperial's first rodeo, as life on Kandara had forced him to make such moves before, but purely out of desperation alone; Jordi didn't have sniper support waiting in unaffiliated tower-blocks all around the compound then, nor did he have the benefit of having a full stomach then either, none of what would fuel his success that night had been available to him in his term as a paramilitary. All that the Kandaran had back then was his switchblade, a silenced disruptor-pistol and his adrenal drive to kill everyone inside without suffering a single shot, slash, stab or shock in the process.
Remembering this, Massad then decided it was a perfect opportunity to do the same, reigniting an old fire within himself to achieve something COMPNOR HQ would be talking about for years after that night. It all felt quite befitting of a man who'd forced himself to live another life, far from the life he knew, to once again go through what he went through last time in the field. Life was willing to force him to experience his first solo compound-raid once more, and thus he found himself praying on the floor, facing with the view to the Sorannis compound directly behind him, like did five times a day in his formative years. Even if it seemed like everything was coming full circle in existential and strategic matters alike, the Kandaran would still draw strength from the tangible rediscovery of his faith regardless, something that Jordi believed would keep him safe from harm in the following hours.
'The fuck you lookin' at, sunglasse-'
A clean swipe, biting through carotid, jugular and deep into the windpipe - the Kandaran-Durasteel switchblade had done her nasty work. With the same ease as cutting through butter, or perhaps even with the same ease as cutting through cake. The first victim at the gate, strong and brazen though he was, still seemed a little jowly underneath the collar of his overly-tight shirt in the end.
'Answer? A waste of good, breathable air, Kuffar! Now please, die quietly if you can.... I'm heading in to murder your friends now, understand?'
The look of rage that contorted into wide-eyed, frenzied loathing Jordi received was all the answer he needed, responding,
'Good boy, and the Muntar send their regards by the way.', in kind, spitting in his foe's face and pacing off towards the parking-garage gate. With absolute disdain for everything around him, with rucksack filled to the brim with the explosives that were previously resting in the briefcase compartment beneath the rifle parts, Massad knew he would be readier for this raid than he ever had been for any before. Then the Kandaran suddenly stopped himself in his tracks, realising that he still had work left to do if he hoped to keep everything running as he planned, including last efforts to endeavour on the outside before Jordi could even hope to gain entry unnoticed, and that first phase would be the only part that required the Clawdite brothers' assistance - much to Massad's relief.
<"Scimitar to Daurinn! Hide that! Rain should do the rest, just get him away from prying eyes.">
<"On it, Scimitar! Also, never trust the rain on disposal matters. Even with late callouts, rain is rain is rain. Prone to stopping, prone to making it easier for investigators.... Doesn't matter, we have it covered and you're COMPNOR anyway. "Carte Blanche", as the Anaxsi say, freedom to do whatever the fuck you want! Daurinn out!">
He does seem to have a point though, maybe I should use all the explosives. Take out everyone who runs to their speeders, easy as that.
Reaching up to disable the camera-system from outside, Massad would implement a rather cheap, old-school form of sabotage for a rather cheap, old-school form of security-system; simply pulling on the reinforced cable, Jordi would then use the same knife he'd just used on the goon at his face, but to cut at the rubber cabling to expose the conductive metals beneath, the rain would do the rest as the Kandaran calmed himself further so he could focus on patching through to Don Belkora. If this was to be Jordi's first masterstroke, then the first and only person the agent would ever want to get in touch with, especially on the very precipice of being unable to turn back, was the wily, bantering Tetan he'd grown to consider a lifelong friend. Since day one, when Jordi first landed at Ravelin's spaceport, met at the terminal by Don Belkora's subordinates, then on a Holonet call with Don himself, COMPNOR as a whole had offered nothing but kindnesses to the Kandaran - kindnesses Massad would've fought, bled and died for if he was given the order.
<"Scimitar to Little Angel! Moving in on the Sorannis Cartel's compound now. Wish me luck, as I plan to make quite a lot of noise tonight.... Either way? Probably going to be a hefty butcher's bill tonight, sir. I'll be at this a while. Scimitar out!">
Alright.... It's time. I shine for COMPNOR tonight, or die in the attempt!
Chuckling to himself as he prepared to open the door to the parking garage, Massad was beginning to feel like a truly auspicious night awaited him, briefly pausing to exert strength to yank the door open with a grunt before exclaiming to himself,
'Alhamdullilah! Either way, blessings await the audacious!', with one last glance to the street around him to be sure no prying eyes from the SIA were attempting to put their work in. Drawing his silenced pistol as his periphery caught the sight of Daurinn's speeder approaching to his right, the Kandaran turned back towards the parking-garage inside, leaving the Muntar goon to his work as he corrected his pistol-shooting form, making sure not to make errors like the one he made in the dark alleyway a couple hours prior. Outside the Muntar of all places, proving that Jordi was better off making that mistake in the first place, as the approach to that moment of moments may have looked a whole lot bleaker otherwise.
'Who's that? FUCK OFF, YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE!!!!'
THWACK-THWACK
'SHIT!!!! CALL FOR BACK-'
THWACK THWACK.... THWACK-THWACK
And so began the largest recorded killing-streak of the Kandaran's career so far, and not a single alarm had been raised, not even after seeing two more making for the Holonet terminal and the alarm on the north side of the parking-garage itself. The first shot in their direction had seared through the throat of the nearest runner, and both eyes of the other, the luckiest shot of the night so far; from there, it was just a simple case of finishing the job on both to keep them from suffering, judging them to be braver than the others as he scanned the rest of the parking garage for hidden threats. Only a coward remained, and Jordi made quick and quiet work of him before any screams of anguish could be allowed to reverberate to other parts of the compound, for dangerous are cowards under duress, at least in their own strange, bleating ways. All that remained after that was to put the bodies in the trunks of some of the vehicles, vehicles of which Massad fully intended to rig with the explosives in his rucksack, explosives he intended to detonate with all the desperate Sorannis leadership fleeing inside them.
I want them believing they can escape, I want them to have false hope before the end.
