Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Deafening Silence

Art-of-Ghost-in-The-Shell-8.jpg
The abandoned shopping center was an unfortunate part of a man's dream that met the economic reality. Currently, however, it was the site of a massacre. Coruscant was home to many criminal syndicates, and Karsan Calnov- had just more or less wiped out one of them. There was a loud ringing in who remained ear's- from the massive explosion that Karsan had set off. He pumped his shotgun as he sauntered forward, a grimace plastered across his face, determined to finish what he started.

The only remaining Twilight member was standing in front of a fallen chandelier, holding weakly onto her blaster, as she warbled to a standing position.

Exactly Two Minutes Before
The meeting had been called out of desperation- and thanks to six broken bones, two broken ribs and a wired jaw, Karsan knew where it was going down at. The gang gathered was known as the Sons of Twilight, a Swoop gang that traded in arms. They had heard of the arms cache that had been discovered, and the massacres that came with it. They were gathered en masse to discuss whether or not they should go for it. If they went for it, it would elevate them from a petty street gang to a contender to be part of the Black Suns, or a larger syndicate.

Karsan was on the upper level, wearing his usual black tactical attire. No Beskar'gam. No identifying marks. Nothing to tie him back to himself. He tapped his watch twice, waiting patiently. They were nearly where they needed to be. He waited again, and counted to ten, to check over the railing again, eyeing the position of the Twilight gang members to the explosives placed on the ceiling, and walls.

The explosives, low-grade IEDs that were filled with nails, buckshot, steel balls- any projectile that Karsan could find, were tied to a series of wires that were on an incomplete circuit. Karsan was holding the two wires that would complete it. He tapped his watch again, bringing the screen to life again. The timetable was running low. Any more coming and it would be a problem.

If any of them left prematurely, he wouldn't be able to cripple them. He looked over at @Thrandis Jorn, before touching the two wires together. The explosive effect was massive, projectiles spewing from the ceiling, and wall. The actual detonation was very low in structural damage, the shrapnel is what was the main factor in killing his targets.

The steel balls, nails, and other hastily-made projectiles tore through the Twilight Sons like butter. No armor, no preparation and for a mostly humanoid crowd, there was little protection, if any, from the projectiles. Karsan and his partner jumped down and hastily finished off the wounded, or the ones who managed to escape the hail of Shrapnel with suppressed slugthrowers. The efficiency at which the two worked was surgical, scalpels instead of swords- however they both made it a point to not go for the usual MO of a well trained professional in terms of accuracy and precision. He turned and looked at Thrandis when he swept the room, finding only one of them alive, near the fallen chandelier.

Now
The woman attempted to raise her blaster. Karsan could see the black veins in her arm from where he was. She wasn't human, but humanoid. Couldn't tell in the dim light. She didn't even manage to raise it above her waist before she fell to her knees, and looked at Karsan for half a second.

Karsan shot her in the throat and let her keel over. He turned to look over at Thrandis. He climbed back up to the second level, and threw him a black bag, filled with spent slugthrower casings, favored by other gangs. The Coruscant Security teams would be here soon, even at this low of a level in the city.

"Spread them around, make it look sloppy. Then we'll move on."

Karsan was making a power play- and nobody had yet to interfere too much. The man he was with could be trusted at a distance, if anything he was more loyal to the potential payout than the dream Karsan was chasing. But for now, they had to make it look like another gang-on-gang violence, not two trained professionals wiping out at least two dozen assholes. Karsan just hoped this time nobody else would come and try and impede his plan again- he had been nearly killed or captured by a Jedi.
 
He had to admit, there was something about [member="Karsan Calnov"]'s work that was just impressive to watch. Wordlessly the second man clad in black caught the bag, reaching in and spreading its contents about the room. He left the casing in fairly large groups, emulating the aftermath of the criminal element's tendency to simply hold down the trigger until the weapon ran completely dry.

From behind the mask drawn up over the bridge of his nose he sneered, the Sons of Twilight, like the half dozen other groups he'd seen Karsan put to the sword, continued to impress him with their choice in muscle. He dropped several empty shells near a Togruta who'd been blown open in more places then he cared to count. He knew this one from when he'd scoped out the swoop gang, the man was an idiot, a drunk, and a for all his talk of being impossible to get the drop on incredibly uncareful.

Every corpse in the room belonged to people who'd never been properly trained to fire a blaster, or rig a trap, or operate in any kind of conflict, and that was a part of the reason why they were all dead. That and Karsan made a hell of a bomb.

The Mandalorian vigilante had reappeared as he'd speculated, and the underworld shook in fear. In response they bought more and more from arms dealers who in turn bought more and more from the Empire. Calnov was making waves, reshaping the underworld, and in turn was making it all the more easy to exert control over. Though of course Jorin wasn't open about that, he played the part of a man hungry for reward, a soldier turned to crime after his wars all ended, leaving him with an angry heart and an itchy trigger finger. Perhaps it wasn't an act at all, but it didn't matter.

"Anyone in particular you're looking to pin this on?" He asked, emptying the last of the bag's contents and throwing it over his shoulder. The scene looked like a gang dispute, but Karsan's work had always been professionally done, Thrandis was sure there were at least ten other cases that had been Calnov's work but literally no evidence had been left behind, now it looked like the man just might have been trying to start a war between the criminals in the underground.

And that, that would be interesting.
 
"Anyone who's anyone will pin this everyone else. We let them simmer and then we make the next move."

He strung the bag across his back, and checked his handiwork. On cue, almost- but forty seconds late, the sirens of the speeders of the security forces were inbound. Karsan motioned for his partner to follow him further into the shopping center. The construction that was abandoned in many stores left a lot of entrances and exits that were not finished, and the duo took one that led into the densely populated streets, into a barrier that separated the construction from the rest of the buildings. Karsan ditched his tactical gear and wiped his face free of the face paint, and dumped it into the bag. He waited for his partner to do the same, before tossing the bag over the railing.

Nobody went to the underbelly of Coruscant. Things fell all the time- and by Karsan's estimation, it would've landed near what was supposed to be a home for wayward children- but now was a pile of ashes, thanks to the Republic and One Sith's war. Coruscant never really rebuilt- it just built on top of already existing structures. Made things easier to forget when you put them below you.

He turned and looked at Thrandis.

"We wait a little while- nobody makes a move or puts together that it wasn't another gang, we move for the weapons cache. Then we take it for ourselves."

Karsan's plan was ambitious, and required on a myriad of factors- chief among them being a lack of opposition. Here's hoping that [member="Seamus Valik"] didn't show up again.


[member="Thrandis Jorin"]
 
Coruscant was the most unfriendly and artificial place Baiko’d ever seen. Pulling the rich burgundy hood of her coat over her head, she wove through the Coruscanti traffic and sidled beside [member="Karsan Calnov"] and [member="Thrandis Jorin"].

She didn’t know Thrandis, but after Calnov ensured her Mandalorian battle-brethren and herself didn’t die in the vacuum, Baiko figured she’d get some fresh air. The Coruscanti underworld had bearings across the Galaxy, and that alone was reason enough to follow Calnov into whatever scheme he worked up next. Besides, Mandalore was stifling.

It was time to crack her neck and do what needed doing. “Intel on the weapons cache. We’re a go, I left a side entrance open. I can cover you from there.”

Baiko handed Calnov a data chit with her scuffed knuckles. A cut spread on the back of her hand, which she covered with a glove to match her velvet coat. Velvet may have been low tech, but it diffused the light, and in dark places made one nearly invisible. “I scrubbed the sec cams for the next quarter mile. Best use the anonymity while we can.
 
Well this was an unexpected turnout.

Blue light bathed Koenrad's face, accentuating his features and giving him and almost gaunt appearance. Not that there was anyone around to notice. He flicked a switch on his dashboard and display popped up in front of him, lighting the interior of his cockpit even more and informing him of the recent law enforcement's immediate movements. Another switch and a few typed commands and he could hear their comms. Dozens of Twilight Sons, slaughtered like livestock, and the perpetrators seemingly having vanished. There were more dead than the flatfoots had even known were a part of the minor swoop gang and with the amount of carnage present, they had reasoned that there was no way anything smaller than a team of hitmen, bounty-hunters, could have been responsible. More likely, it was large scale gang violence, but the detectives weren't there yet, so they were going on hunches.

The Sons were by no means a dangerous player in the game that was contraband smuggling, but Koenrad needed stronger influence in this sector and so had intended to approach them. The plan was just to get them to start running his spice in tandem with their own business, for a cut of the profit. If they had decided against it, he would've had them removed. It seemed, however, that he had been a bit late to the party. Someone had already beat him to the punch, and since he hadn't even had the courtesy of speaking to the street-rats beforehand, Kunz was irked. Someone had taken an opportunity from him, and worse, without his foreknowledge. He docked the Black Orchid, before programming it to go and re-dock in one of the higher-end space docks hanging in orbit. He didn't like leaving his ship grounded, not in Coruscant's underworld. He lazily sauntered down the loading ramp, priming his double-barrel and the palm blaster he kept hooked on his wrist. He unholstered the DT-29 from it's chest holster, loaded the gun, and flicked off the safety before re-holstering. The moment he stepped off of the ramp, it began to rise and as he walked away into the noisy throng, the low thrum of the engines loudened to a roar. The ship took off behind him, pre-programmed for the dock, while he made a beeline for a contact who might know the identities of the people responsible for his missed opportunity.
 
"Wait for my signal. Lots of preparation and a lot of people died for this. Mostly by me."

Karsan smirked at the last part of his statement. He gave an appreciative nod towards [member="Baiko no Kaho"], then turned to @Thrandis Jorn, and motioned for them to go. They needed to leave, fast- in order to make it to their next drop off point. The gear they were going to need to break into the cache was in there.

"Move to the armory, but keep a distance. Half of Coruscant knows where a cache of untraceable guns from the One Sith sits- and all ready to go." Karsan had an intimate knowledge of the damage their weapons could do- and had plans for them. The numbers in there could fill the coffers of a small planet for a while- and that was to the lowest bidder.

But Karsan had other plans. More ambitious plans.

Back at the massacre at the shopping center, the Coruscant Security Force concluded that it was probably a gang-related incident, thanks to the cruel, improvised nature of the explosives used and the way the ballistics were matching up. The ballistics report said two shooters, maybe a few more. It was hard to tell with the explosives mixed into the scene of the crime. The only conclusion that the Security Forces had was that someone had lead them here to a trap, and then massacred them in bulk like they were from a superstore.

The question became less of how, and more of why, as the investigation continued.

[member="Koenrad Neistov"]
 
Thrandis said nothing, he left the scene of the carnage without another word to [member="Karsan Calnov"] or his tag-along [member="Baiko no Kaho"]. Jorin was in the business of not asking questions, so he didn't inquire about the Echani, Calnov wasn't the type to bring along those that would slow him down, so the woman had some sort of talent that would be useful.

As casually as he could manage, the scarred man headed out into the streets, blending with the crowd in a matter of seconds. He was just a man wearing black, nothing more and nothing less. Even among the sprawling sea of people he kept mental note of where Karsan and Baiko were, if one of them went down then they'd been exposed and it was time to bail, or fight.

It depended really.

All that mattered tonight was the guns, and if one of them didn't make it, that was acceptable, though not ideal.

[member="Koenrad Neistov"]
 
Baiko nodded with a slight upturn of her lips, just enough to appreciate the violent way a man like [member="Karsan Calnov"] dispatched those who simply needed killing. She moved off from the others, disappearing in the streets of Coruscant as if she’d always been there, or come from some café after tea with a friend. Neither man looked genteel, nor could she foresee the farce of ‘hanging off their arm’ as some form of sweetheart. No, it was better to separate and move. [member="Thrandis Jorin"] went his way, a chill threaded down Baiko’s spine. What would she see if she touched his primary weapon with her bare hand?

The Atrisian worked her way around on an illogical path, checking constantly to the bead in her ear. Coruscant Security Force chatter, local newsies getting in on some form of scuffle, any and everything which correlated to the keywords she punched into her slicer gear back on the ship.

A click in her system. Someone else was listening in to the CSF’s chatter. Of course there was. It could be anyone from newsies to enemy agents, there were probably many listening into the system. Baiko grit her teeth and thanked her stars she didn’t have self-audio, that all she did was patch in. Still… the difference between coincidence and death was paranoia.

She caught Calnov’s eye and signalled with her hand. Someone was listening to the CSF chatter.

She lost sight of Calnov as her slicer kit worked to backtrace the origin point of the other listeners. Weaving through the streets, she ducked to her position, where a bag of gear waited taped to the bottom of a random stair.

Baiko climbed to her nest, took out the sniper rifle components, put it together and looked through the scope. She was in position.
 
Tisha couldn't tell him who or where his quarry was, but she could tell him about the Sons of Twilight, and more importantly, what had been their next move. Anyone with ears and half a brain to use them had heard recently of a cache of One Sith weaponry sitting virtually in the open, right here on Coruscant. It seemed that no one had gone for it, for fear of either repercussion or being the second ones to go get it. Kunz could bet that there were more eyes on that cache than there were on all the Twi'lek girls in all the nudie bars under the sun. Or perhaps, the blinking neon, more appropriately. And these individuals he was after had just killed a group of desperate gunrunners looking for this cache. If he could find these people anywhere, he'd most likely find them there.

Koenrad leaned against a concrete wall whose paint was chipped and had underworld tags sprayed across it. Down the street a river of bodies, crashing and jostling, moved ceaselessly. Men and women all rushing to go somewhere, none of them really seeing what lay ahead or paying attention to what followed behind. He couldn't expect this placidness of his targets. One could not conceivably set up a hit like they had, and escaped from it the way they had, and then immediately forgot how to dust away their footprints. He had no doubt he would be found out if he followed them further, if he wasn't already. With that thought, he pushed off the wall, coat flapping behind him as he strolled into the crowd. He had somewhere to be. For a few moments all was fine, simply him pushing his way through a crowd of foreign aliens - tourists, perhaps, but ex-convicts more likely - and local ghetto trash. Across the street was a set of alleys he could shortcut through, according to Tisha, to get en route to the supposed area of the Cache. He would've liked to go to the crime scene beforehand, see the carnage he'd heard about from both the scanner and now from the hushed voices of informants scattering across the underground. Everyone who was anyone would know about what had happened before it aired on the Holonet tomorrow morning. Didn't make much of a difference down here, anyway. This was commonplace, if not in such spectacular fashion, or in such large numbers. Unfortunately, the CSF had the site locked down, and he wasn't prepared to do time for something like suspected involvement in a crime he didn't commit. Even if he had, petty murder charges were not the way he wanted to be remembered going under for, if he ever did.

He had almost crossed the crush of night-owls and urchins, when he felt a grasping hand at his belt. Nothing would be found there, because he wasn't some naïve tourist, but the audacity to steal from him sparked anger. Kunz was already in a foul mood... but this stoked his simmering irritability. He felt for the thief with the force, found his target, and spun on his heel to grab the boy. He wasn't about to oust himself as sensitive in front of this crowd, but he was about to show them what he did to thieves who tried to steal form him. His gloved hand clamped around the thin bicep of a beige coloured Zabrak boy. His horns had just began to poke through his crown, and based on his size - malnourished weight not withstanding - he appeared to be in his early teens. The boy had a small moment of fear, terror at being caught and immobilised, before defensive aggression shone through. He tried to kick Koenrad, ragged sandals smacking against matte black shin plates. A quick jab bounced off of Koenrad's chest plate, but the Zabraki didn't show any pain. Respectable, this child's tenacity. If he hadn't been a thief, or if Koenrad hadn't been previously engaged, he might have recruited the ankle-biter. The teen pulled back his fist for a second blow, but Kunz lunged his off hand at the boy's throat, clenching underneath his jaw. He lifted the boy, toes scraping the dust before swinging wildly for a heartbeat - and then he threw the child to the ground in front of him. The kid collided with an older Rodian woman before sprawling in the dirt.

Koenrad scowled, walked forward and in the same motion brought his heel down on the thief's hand, crunching the fingers beneath his boot. Broken, not crushed, and with medical attention, the kid would heal properly. A painful reminder, though impermanent. Without breaking stride, Kunz pulled a ten credit piece from within his jacket - where he actually kept his wallet - and tossed it to the gasping boy. Credit where credit was due; he liked the kid, but consequences still existed. Before the boy had even regained his breath from being winded, Koenrad vanished into the now startled crowd. He found the alley system Tish had recommended and to the boy's cries of pain, he strode into the dark.


[member="Baiko no Kaho"] [member="Thrandis Jorin"] [member="Karsan Calnov"]
 

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