Private Double Trouble

[Oshin Jantu]

Music OOC

Spoiler

​

Nar Shaddaa. Smuggler’s Moon. Home to thugs and to criminals, to jugglers of corruption too.
An ecumenopolis, a worldwide metropolis whose cosmopolitans were diverse galactic citizens.
No tada or fanfare, the moon's used to life and death night and day, with murder in an instant.
The urban surface was infested with a nest of criminal elements amid polluted streets so strewn.

Bright lights from orbit, orange, a city deceptively vibrant, but with an enthusiasm for violence.
Muggings, killings, by way of a wayward sign, spice dens and drinking establishments nearby.
Congested buildings, sky spires sticking out like sore thumbs beside those skyslums so high.
Flashing billboards begging souls to come inside, strip club on the right, fighting pit on left.

It was night as speeders sped by, whizzing within a lattice of bridges and patchworked platforms.
Vehicles like flies, ships swooping in amid the traffic, highlighted up high in chrome orange haze.
On a surface, if somewhere halfway between the ground streets and tower peaks, one soul came.
Another victim of the cityscape’s poison, drifting along the skywalk, but she didn’t quite conform.

Just a lone figure in the masses of pedestrians, walking with them, those denizens of that world.
Black boots on her feet, tip-tapping on duracrete, a black leather jacket reaching past her knees.
Two arms in its sleeves with two arms concealed underneath; four arms for the Codru-Ji species.
Hair loose in the breeze, an intoxicating scent of fumes; mold smog, old exhaust, cigarette curls.

Homeless man sitting at her left, pack of pirates pacing at her right, the woman just walks on.
Ever aware of her surroundings, open eyes in a maze, ears tuned in to passing conversations.
Someone needed a blaster, another needed women in his lap—words fade as faces are lost.
Ignoring the looks upon her own by those who don’t know that she is a shark in the ocean.

On the prowl, on the hunt, on a mission, swimming in the sea of city streets, and stalking.
Following her target, one man further ahead, keeping his head in check, as he is walking.
Inconspicuous amid the throngs of faces and scents, she keeps distance with her target.
Marches, maintaining visibility with his entourage of guards, across moon’s city carpet.

Where her mark goes, she does not know—whether he will stop at a building left or right.
An arms dealer, perhaps on his way to make a transaction or for a club to spend a night.
Tailing him, Oshin Jantu, an assassin, will introduce herself at the right moment, in time.
She'll find a location best suited to her profession, sneak on up, and take the man’s life.

Coze Zaco

 

[Coze Zaco]

Double Trouble​

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tags: Oshin Jantu

Spoiler: Currently Equipped

TBD

She was never a fan of this city. Or planet for that matter. Coze Zaco moved about the streets, her form still holding strong as she walked, grey skin reflected off the cheap lights and flashy adverts. Eyes seemed to notice her, but thankfully for their sake, they kept hands wide away from her. The attire she wore was befitting of a smuggler, though she could change her clothes into whatever the hell she felt like truthfully. She was here for business however, and upon thinking about it, she turned into an alley, and....corrected her choice in clothing. Now instead of dark colored leather, she wore a vibrant velvet skirt with a obsidian black blouse. She grinned at the ease of her change, and stepped back onto the streets, eyeing the meeting stop just a bit ahead.

Before, she was usually the person that was arranging these sorts of meetings, but now, she was the one being asked to them. Of course, the bastard didn't know what was coming. Coze's real job was to take out the Weequay businessman that had contacted her. The idiot had been caught running pirating raids too close to a Hutt's Cartel trading route, and now, she was going to ensure it never happened again.

Of course, he thought he was paying her to sabotage these said ships....

It would be a fun surprise for the both of them. As she entered into the meeting space, a modest hotel near a cheap tourist trap Casino, the moment she made eye contact with the Twi'lek Hostess, she knew she was in the right place.

"Yes ma'am, Miss Zaco, Mister Nitmo is waiting for you upstairs-" She began to lead Zaco on, a pair of Trandoshan guards spilling out of a doorway with rifles ready, and she had to suppress a laugh. Until, she realized, that they were holding sonic rifles.

Did that bastard really come prepared to kill her?

Coze's brow twitched, but she held herself composed. This would be dealt with one way or another.

 

[Oshin Jantu]

Music OOC [Recurring]

Spoiler

​

Forward, onward, toward the kriffer assigned to her, ever keeping her distance from him.
Pakor Nitmo, that was the Weequay’s name, with a mark on his face fit for a blaster’s kiss.
Whether dagger or whatever, an assassin had more than gun and blade as she moved in.
Casino up ahead, maybe he aimed to gamble his life away, yet then again he already did.

Nope, skip it, he went for the hotel instead. It looked innocent enough, but just as much a lie.
Was probably a drukton of dirty business going on inside, like prostitution all day and night.
Either way, the assassin wasn’t one to complain while she watched from a corner and waited.
As Pakor entered, she observed, counting windows and storeys, for the shark was ever patient.

Floating in the ocean, drifting in the sea, until finally she dropped enough eaves to now move on.
Velvet skirt in front of her, apparently a stripper. Could take her out, don the blouse. A nice disguise.
No need for it tonight, Oshin wasn’t suspected, neither expected, in a public hotel establishment.
Just another pedestrian, a potential resident, she walked in behind as other guests moved along.

Reception desk, Twi’lek hostess, cigarette-smoking man on the left, a couple kissing on the bench.
Two Togruta women picking through a vending machine, Bothan leaning against a pillar, reading.
Oshin took it all in after walking in, nonchalant, roving corners, looking for cameras, to any extent.
Could be one of these fish was a guard who might not look it whether standing, sitting or leaning.

Velvet skirt at the desk, black jacket approaching, appears behind her for more eavesdropping.
Conversation begins the moment Oshin wonders which room her prey might have checked in.
She had devices to find him, tricks up her sleeve, didn’t want to be seen but could afford to be.
At this point, there was an open door after the hostess gave that skirt a name as if next of kin.

Waiting for you upstairs, eh? Sometimes the assassin had to climb a wall and enter a window.
Other times the key to the door stood before her. This was one such occasion with the woman.
Oshin glanced over her shoulder to watch her being escorted by two blaster-toting Trandoshans.
“Can I help you, miss?” Smiled the hostess. Oshin could wait a minute, play in it—open and close.

“Need a room. Upper floors will do.” Generally somebody like Pakor felt safer the higher a floor.
Not that it really mattered whether lower or higher. Oshin was given the keycard and her way in.
Passing thanks, she gave the hostess her back and followed the skirt toward the elevator doors.
Guard gave her a look to take the other. No worries. Sure thing. She idled, waited, ever patient.

Noted where the skirt’s elevator number stopped and hopped on the other lift and punched it.
Inside, all was quiet save for that rhythmic hum. All alone, Oshin hummed with it, raising fists.
Good moment to check her weapons, two pistols, and another pair for two hands in jacket.
Knife in boot, other knives too, grenades, ways to eliminate, before two arms are hidden.

I am a shark in the ocean. Tapping a finger on her leathered thigh, drumming to the humming.
Chasing fish trying to swim. The doors opened in time to spot a threesome pacing the hallway.
A threesome is potentially why one room echoed with muffled moaning as Oshin passed its way.
No assassin, she’s a hotel guest finding her room behind skirt and Trandoshan. The shark is coming.

Coze Zaco

 

[Coze Zaco]

Double Trouble​

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tags: Oshin Jantu

Spoiler: Currently Equipped

TBD

Having ignored the other individuals in the hotel, Coze had no idea of the assassin that followed in her wake. Nor would she particularly care even if she knew; it would just be another method by in which to escape. No, what troubled her, was seeing all the men with sonic weapons. That bothered her. It was difficult to kill her as she was now, but sonic was still one of the few things that 'hurt' her. That being, blowing her molecules back into liquid. She could always reform, but the pain at times, was unbearable. It was always a matter of willpower in these things, and while she did have quite a bit, her nervous system could still be overcome by pain.

Stepping onto the elevator, she had thought the meeting place to be a mild conference room, but no, one of the Trandoshan's clicked the second last floor with a pointed digit, and Coze merely glanced up to her escort. "An executive suite? He must be showing off." She remarked coolly, but got no response from the two guards. She watched as the floors ticked by, until it stopped at the twelfth floor. The doors opened, and Coze frowned as she found even more men with rifles- three of them to be exact- lounging in the hall. Again, these men had sonic rifles and, was that CyroBan?

Someone must have tipped him off, because Nitmo had paid alot of money for his thugs to be armed. Especially with gear that could actually harm her. Now she was less amused, more towards angered. Still, she was lead forward, noting the three morons were too distracted by the Pazzak game they were playing to pay the party any mind.

Being led down past the three men and their card game, she was taken down two turns, each one complimentary of its' own guard, these ones thankfully only sported standard blaster rifles. Least Nitmo's budget is showing, she thought to herself in amusement. When the reached the end of the second corridor, a rather elegant double door loomed before them. Which was promptly opened by a Gamorrean this time, a small vibro-axe clattered against his hide. Peaking in, Coze felt a scowl coming, as the room seemed to be set for some manner of party. The far wall was a one way glass it seemed, showing the city-world of Nar Shadda in the background. A large pool formed across the back part of the room, with an artificial waterfall built along the sides of the room. The only safe haven for Coze, seemed to be that up ahead, a pavilion adorned with a large table, filled by several rough looking characters, and heading it, was the unmistakable image of Pakor Nitmo.

Coze managed a tight smile, taking not of four additional guards around the area, all equipped with sonic rifles and those damned cryo grenades. Nitmo's guests were too busy chatting to take notice initially, but as she neared with her escorts, the mans unmistakable annoying voice rose up. "Well, well, well, is that Miss Coze? I believe it is! Friends, friends, hold a minute, our guest of honor is at hand!" He cackled, rising up from his seat as Coze stopped at the end of the table. Then realized that she knew the faces of the men gathered here.

These were all former contracts she had taken.

Nitmo leaned over, giggling to himself as he pressed something on his end of the table, and the holoprojector in the center came alive. The image on the other side, was again, one of Coze's contracts. Namodo the Hutt, the bastard who had hired Coze to kill the Weequay.

"This is quite a gathering." She said, her voice very much lacking in amusement.

These bastards were double crossing her it seemed.

 

[Oshin Jantu]

Music OOC

Spoiler

​

Doors. Floors. Corridors. Oshin had been through these before, and more than a hotel or two.
Maybe not this one, which was named Who Gives A Kriff, but she had spilled blood, Ms. Jantu.
The last hotel she was in had a target, a bit of a di’kut, a Mandalorian with a penchant for guns.
Pretty little things. Decorating the wall. She thought as she walked. Until my own blasted the punk.

Then his corpse had decorated the floor. Doors. Left and right, either side, as she walks along.
Keeping her distance from Skirt and her target’s servants, spotting other guards further armed.
Looked like this portion just past the entrance was still public enough as an assassin moves on.
Corridors. They turn to her, a murderer, as a pair of guards spot her, whose blasters could harm.

Yet, even as they step, they don’t know that Oshin is a shark, and this woman owns the very ocean.
“This section is off limits, sweetheart,” said a Weequay with a grin like that Devaronian’s beside him.
Oshin looked left, looks right, eyes into eyes. Bunch of chumps. “Sorry, I’m lost. I have a keycard. It’s…”
She held it. One observed. “Hall behind you. Now move.” Oshin smiles. Spots the entourage in motion.

They disappeared behind the right corridor at the end of her current. “Thank you so much, my good man.”
He licked his lips at that. “How good do ya think I am?” Oshin stroked her keycard like it was his own back.
“Well…” His eyes burn into her, hers flirt and dance, searching, observing, counting. Just four in this corridor.
It was likely the rooms flanking her had more guards who could run out at the sound of a blaster or more.

As it was, there was this pair of morons standing in front of her and another pair at the end of this hallway.
They faced each other, leaning against the wall, smoking cigarettes and laughing at each other’s ugly face.
“...Oh, let me show you…” Oshin stepped closer to the Weequay, with her lips curved as if locked in a kiss.
His friend chuckled. Oshin leaned in. “Always wanted to dance with a big bad man...” Her lips onto his.

They kiss. Her fist is against his solar plexus. His hand reaches back to grab her ass. Then he gasps.
The blade was as fast as a lightsaber before it retracted back into her sleeve, puncturing his heart.
The Weequay dies in an instant, falls where he stands, as the Devaronian is oblivious to the dance.
Oshin moves past, swipes her hand, slashes her adjacent blade, ripping her target’s throat apart.

By the time both men fall, she’s already rushing forward, in time to catch the eye of the other pair.
The remaining two guards at the other end of the corridor. They suddenly catch on and they stare.
It was a blink of a moment, Oshin’s arms are like bolts of lightning as she’s gliding, spreading them.
In an instant, with a wrist-flick, smaller daggers not attached to her limbs come flying, kiss of death.

The blades penetrated the heads of her enemies. They die with their brains wondering who she is.
She is Death, is the last enemy they will ever see, as she pressed her back against the wall to see.
The second corridor led to a rather elegant double-door. Hugging the wall, peering ever silently.
Hmm, Gamorrean. Bloody ugly pig. Six guards, seven with him, though they don’t make Oshin panic.

The corridor was a dead end which meant that her skirt-toting friend was behind those doors.
It also meant her target, Pakor Nitmo, the tit, was in the room nestled at the end of the corridor.
Oh well. There was more than one way to play this but no need to hide death as she’s done before.
In Nar Shaddaa, crime and corruption was the light of life, the element, with blood on every floor.

Time to mosey... The assassin promptly told herself as she felt the leather of her lethal garments.
An outfit that hid weapons of every sort, blades and grenades, a variety of daggers and blasters.
Make a bang at the wrong time, however, and she’d find herself surrounded by all the armed men.
Women, droids, or whoever was waiting to emerge toward her, the assassin had to be much faster.

Fasten the rebreather, her eyes are already seas of mystery, not so naturally, not so biological.
Take out the grenade, take to a knee, roll the ball along as the guards watch with their eyes full.
The object spins quietly across the floor, slow and steady, as the idiots realize what it might be.
Before they could scream, the grenade breaks, sprays smoke in every direction, but they can’t see.

They’re choking, coughing, as something is rushing toward them, ominously, boots thudding.
From the coat that’s her cloak, the assassin lashes at them with what might be two machetes.
Slashing throats, penetrating chests, whirling like a whirlwind, slaughtering, painting a hall bloody.
Falchions, another word in definition, if shorter than the former, though proven to be no less deadly.

Floor. Corridor. Doors. Oshin, the assassin, is at them, and will barge in at any moment.
No booming grenades, no blaster fire and no roaring, she had caused little commotion.
A hotel, and with doors made of metal, and the only cameras were her slain opponents.
Lacking security feature, but the guests don’t want to be seen either. Can’t hide from Oshin.

Coze Zaco

 

[Coze Zaco]

Double Trouble​

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tags: Oshin Jantu

Spoiler: Currently Equipped

TBD

Entirely unaware of the havoc breaking out behind her, Coze frowns at the little reunion that had been collected before her. All the damn scheming bastards that she had broken bread with now stood her to ride themselves of her. The fething nerve. Namodo spoke first, the oversized slug actually speaking basic, as the guards around the room readied rifles at her. "Coze Zaco, you have proven an asset to many of my rivals in the many years of service you have provided, but alas, it seems your contract has come to an end. The Hutt Cartel is aware of your past, and, we know of the schemes you keep deep within that warped, malformed head between your shoulders."

The first burst of sonic rifles struck, and she tried in vain to avoid, only to be hit by two of them. The ripples caused her to scream, her right half breaking away into gel, as her body crashed into the floor, Coze already attempting to reform as a numbing pain consumed her mind. "That is why we have all gathered her, to bid you farewell." Nitmo joined in, laughing in glee from his end of the table, just as another sonic shot went off, bursting Coze's head as she was just managing to take form.

Her liquid mass quivering in agony, her body attempting to reform once more, as it was shot again, and again, bits of her breaking off and spraying against the floor, and immediately attempting to rejoin.

The funny thing was, they weren't wrong. She planned on murdering members of the Hutt Cartel. But the only way they could have known would be....

Casdin. The name filled her with a rage that nearly matched the agony that consumed her body.

They thought they had her dead to rights, were going to kill her?

No. But she would damn sure kill them.

Another burst struck at center mass, blowing Coze into four sections, all of which immediately lashed out at her rifle holding attacking. Inky tendrils coiled about, squeezing and aiming to rend bond and muscle, as the hired guns began to try and fight off their new attacker. The display was enough for the guests at the table to rise, some grabbing weapons, others looking for a swift exit.

The remaining guards, three still unaffected, moved to protect the VIPs, though to Coze she didn't care. Once she got done strangling these goons, everyone in this room would pay.

One of her copies grabbed hold of the sonic rifle firing off a wild shot that burst the glass of the main door of the room.

That was enough to send the rest of the gathered group in a panicked rush.

 

[Oshin Jantu]

Music OOC

Spoiler

​

Elegance, even an assassin could be graceful and be stylish, like the VIP suite’s entrance.
Elegant engravings, like vines spiraling; a fashionable steel of midnight blue end to end.
Two doors, tethered together, closed with a line down the middle as if to give challenge.
Daring one to try to open them, taunting them, unbent, unbroken, for an uninvited guest.

Here one was, with a keycard in hand, facing hotel suite, ready for those doors to retract.
Thanks to a Gamorrean who suddenly lost his head, he no longer needed the key he had.
Standing in a pool of blood, red and green beneath boots, a headhunter garbed in black.
Spattered in liquid, finger grazing face, wiping away, and no more delay, swiping a hand.

In a moment, those doors are open, sliding into the walls, like a mouth bearing its maw.
A lone figure at the entrance, breaking it, she doesn’t wait, she is swift, breaking the jaw.
Storming in within an instant, she doesn’t hesitate, hands on handles, with a crow’s caw.
No more blades, swords or daggers, she is handling blasters, whose voice is not so raw.

Amid a cacophony of chaos is a symphony of mayhem, hand in hand, but the dance is off.
Entering into the room, Oshin Jantu moved to shoot, while discovering something’s wrong.
Two arms raised, training pistols, as eyes rove over a broken window, the wind howling on.
She spots the pavilion with a flipped table, bolts flying over it, as people are running along.

An instant of observation, just enough for that assassin to catch one, two, three, four more.
No, these weren’t men or women, not even droids, but something else; a dark ooze in form.
Kark. It was all that Oshin thought before her blasters erupted in a barrage across the floor.
Multiple attackers, masses of goo fighting off the guards, as Oshin stepped from the doors.

Bolts soared as she burst forth, flying to her right, while a couple of thugs caught onto her.
Lasers faded away as they struck the wall behind her. Her assailants missed. It was her turn.
Bolt to the skull, enemy down, with another round to one other’s chest. It lands and burns.
Glancing to her left where more henchmen are contending with sludge something-other.

Whatever the kriff it is, it was not Oshin’s immediate threat, and it worked as a distraction.
Just then, someone rushed her with a scatterblaster; Twi’lek in a suit too rich for a minion.
He pulled the trigger just as the assassin dove away, landing in a roll, standing to action.
Exit to her side, the way she came in, where one Duros was escaping, of another faction.

Oshin spotted him in her peripheral vision, leveled a pistol and blasted a bolt into his back.
He fell from the corner of her eye, giving that Twi’lek her attention, other pistol still in hand.
She was quick but she missed, striking just his shoulder, as bolts came at her from her flank.
That pavilion, with shooters hiding behind the table for cover, likely where her target is at.

Pakor Nitmo. Oshin recited as she twirled away, slamming her back against a bookcase.
The other side of it was hit with a hail of bolts, proven ineffective against its metal base.
Crouching low, knees and elbows bent, pistols to the ceiling, craned her neck for a gaze.
Turned out her target was with acquaintances, but what was up with the ooze, anyway?

Coze Zaco

 

[Coze Zaco]

Double Trouble​

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tags: Oshin Jantu

Spoiler: Currently Equipped

TBD

Coze struggled to pull her four parts together, straining as she tried to pull the four bodies together, feeling her mental fortitude nearing an end, only to find two of her attackers to drop dead.

She wasn't alone.

She rippled in glee, the two halves of her body ripping free of the now dead goons, and joining with her greater parts, giving her enough power to strangle her attackers while the ongoing mayhem behind her ensued.

Sonic blasts fired off, as Coze forced her body back together, her ooze form coiling around like a noose and ending the two men, then began to reform her body just as it splashed onto the ground.

Someone had just given her a hell of an opportunity, and she wasn't about to waste it.

From the rippling puddle of ooze, she took form again, two sonic rifles in her newly formed hands, body finally forming just as blasters began to train on her person. Her skin sizzled, pain flashed across her mind as bits of her inky form bubbled and popped, but it didn't stop Coze from unloading the rifles into the table. The recoil knocked her aim upwards, shattering glass, and light fixtures, before a wildly thrown cryo grenade forced her to retreat.

Her body slunk back into goo, and immediately began to roll away, narrowly avoiding the icy prison that flashed in her wake.

She could see that Nitmo and his companions were already starting to panic, weapons now discharging towards her and this new attacker.

The same one that Coze intended to bubble up besides, the black ooze rolling about across the broken glass, squeezing under the opening, and forming up besides her 'assistant'. Gone was the business formal attire, now she emerged, low neck dress and all, her right hand a clutch of talons, her left one akin to that of some sort of blade. Her lower half was still forming, though she formed at a low crouch. "I suppose this makes us co-workers for the time being?" She asked, her body solidifying, though the ongoing blaster fire would no doubt drown out her words just a tad.

Hopefully this one wouldn't try and kill her too. She could really use an ally in this situation.

 

[Oshin Jantu]

Music OOC

Spoiler

​

Blasters fired off all around her, while her own were presently kept close to her chest, and quiet.
Pinned down, Oshin would have to find her moment, but for now kept her focus off to one side.
A sonic boom from a weapon she had been spared from, and it seemed well suited to the goo.
The latter began to bind her form together, using their weapons against them, while glass blew.

What is this kriffing thing? Apparently it was of some species that the assassin had never yet seen.
Safe and away from the shattering debris, someone threw a grenade, yet far from her own feet.
It was a big enough suite but Oshin didn’t feel like getting blown open to burst into smithereens.
No explosion, not really, more a shower of cryogenic chemicals that sprayed toward The Thing.

Kark me. The assassin could be fast as lightning but was robbed of reaction time in that moment.
A discombobulated blob of inky tar bubbled across the carpet to materialize right beside Oshin.
She had seen a lot of things in her days and nights as a killer for hire, but this was a new devilry.
Visibly stiffening, tensing up as if she was about to be eaten, ready to level pistol at the beast.

No mere creature, it seemed, as the uncannily lithe female figure stared at her, face familiar.
Hair, eyes, lips, it was a face Oshin had glimpsed not long ago, but she was wearing a skirt.
Those lips spread, like her clawed fingers beside her veiled breasts and scythe for an arm.
“...Uh…” Was all Oshin said in response, still debating whether to blast the thing into stars.

“...Nice…dress..?” Coworkers. Sure. I guess. She offered her guest a shrug like whatever the kriff.
Miss Tar Tits evidently didn’t want to give Oshin a kiss which was something she can work with.
More importantly, neither one had the seconds to contemplate as their enemies showered them.
Trapped, cornered, a woman in black leather and a woman in black goo, bolts raining overhead.

“WE’RE GONNA BURY YOU”
Cried some angry di’kut dude.
“I AM GONNA EAT YOUR PUPPIES”
“That’s kinda weird.” Another argued.

“PAKOR NITMO.” Oshin called across the floor from behind the bookcase.
“WHAT IS IT, MISS!?” Nitmo sounded confident and yet a man in a panic.
“I’M COMING FOR YOU.” Oshin ran her tongue over her fangs as if to taste.
“WHO THE KRIFF IS THIS!?” Fingers into fists, craning head. “YOUR DEATH.”

She waited, anticipated, gripping pistols, as another grenade flew over their heads.
She moved, with or without the goo, but not into the spot her enemy would expect.
A cryo-grenade exploded again where Oshin once was, intending to drive them out.
To the open middle of the room, to be caught by a sudden barrage and sonic pound.

Instead, Oshin jumped up, kicked off the top of the bookcase, and flew through the air.
The grenade impacted at her back with a bang and a blast as blasters drew elsewhere.
Team Crapsack focused their attention on the center, as expected, but she wasn’t there.
She dove above the floor, black crow over white dove, soaring toward a table laid bare.

Airborne, even for a moment, suddenly her enemies were open, as twin pistols shot them.
A bolt of fortune popped Puppy Eater's skull open in a split second and he dropped dead.
Oshin’s two hands on her blasters, something else flew from her coat as she dove forward.
Rounder than the cryo-grenade, louder, they shouted “GRENADE!” and they scattered forth.

Pakor Nitmo, all his associates and his henchmen hastened out from behind the table and ran.
Meanwhile, gravity called toward the assassin, as did a coffee table while landing on her back.
It was situated to her side, positioned in between her and her enemies stampeding in the room.
Maddened, panicked, blasting anything black, whether leather, goo too, as Oshin Jantu came to.

Coze Zaco

 

[Coze Zaco]

Double Trouble​

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tags: Oshin Jantu

Spoiler: Currently Equipped

TBD

The ensuing blaster fire and chaos behind the pair was surely quite the display, but Coze managed a soft and genuine giggle at the woman's comment. An assassin with a sense of humor. How fun. "Now's not the time for flattery, I'll be right behind you, yes?" She suggested, her ink manifested weapons loomed, ready to begin the carnage, though Oshin would have to distract from most of the oncoming fire. Coze was rather tough, but in truth the bursts from those damn weapons had taken it's toll on her; she could only handle so much of the pain.


When Oshin moved, Coze moved to the opposing side, her inky body seemingly fused to the floor, though she roiled across at blinding speed, she was not spared the oncoming blaster fire, though to her credit, her attackers were not spared when she broke off bits of herself, firing off sharpened bits of her own body towards them. The inky fragments did little more than dig into the skin and clothing of several of Nitmo's men, but it mattered not. Her body shifted mid air, being drawn in to group of gunmen via her own fragments, and shifting her form to begin the process of constricting them, her body grasping tightly at the men's forms, as she reeled back, taking and crushing their bodies, as she violently dragged them across the floor, before running each of the men through with quickly formed ink spears.

She was quickly forced to drop her new kills however, her form again a mobile inky puddle, as she rolled and dodged across the room, leaving it up to Oshin to start to capitalize on her little distraction.

 

[Oshin Jantu]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

Amid the commotion, the assassin had risen, ready for it, with two weapons in her grip.
Her blasters fired, twin pistols that kissed, presenting herself with lips spread into a grin.
Death squeezed the life out of that inky lady’s victims, enemies impaled with vengeance.
Meanwhile, for her part, Oshin Jantu moved, darting across the room. It’s time to end this.

Her blaster bolts plugged into skulls. The enemy returned fire, a trail of energy tailing her.
She ran fast as the lasers dispersed at her back. Quick as the wind, Oshin sprang upward.
Boots moved from floor to wall, defying gravity for some heartbeats, but still trading shots.
She withdrew from the surface, some of her enemies already distracted by the black glob.

Back on the floor, one opponent moved toward her, a big man blocking her view of others.
Oshin had just one target though his henchmen and associates just had to get in her way.
A Trandoshan came close, swinging his weapon for her throat; a sword with a mean blade.
The assassin ducked low, shot forward along the floor, rose, poked guns, squeezed triggers.

-POP!- for the Trando’s chest. -POP!- for the Trando’s chin. Then he fell but his killer held him.
His back was riddled with bolts as a pair of pistols rested beside him. This was a good position.
A bit of blind fire to keep her targets suppressed for a moment, then Oshin gave Trando a kick.
He flew backward. Oshin flew upward, kicking off from a smaller coffee table into a quick flip.

Coming overhead, the assassin landed behind an upturned table that was Nitmo’s cover.
Now it’s hers. Trapping the other team in between both women, they were flanked in turn.
Oshin erupted a barrage from her guns, shooting anyone still left standing and in the open.
In moments, with nowhere to go, there were only three beings alive. One of them is Oshin.

She rose again, stepping over the table, keeping both of her pistols trained at her prey.
The Weequay still had a blaster in his hands, though he knows he’s trapped. This was it.
“Drop it.” Oshin commanded. He looked left, looked right and decided to drop the weapon.
“You got me.” Her target admitted casually, grinning, but there was fear painted on his face.

“Pakor Nitmo.” His death spoke. “I’m here to collect your head.”
“Whatever you’re getting paid, I can triple it!” Dimwit promised.
“Perhaps you can. I don’t give a damn.” She shrugged. “Honest.”
“Then whaddya want!?” This tit really is an idiot. “Got a question.”

Oshin’s blasters didn't look away from him even as her eyes did.
“You.” The assassin’s icy gaze was placed on that other woman.
“You here for the same reason as me?” Was often competition.
Yet the creepy goo thing could be some expensive experiment.

Whether this creature was another contractor, she couldn't say.
The two had partnered in the fight but now the fight was over.
Unless the other woman gave Oshin a reason to pull a trigger.
Competition or not, it only took one life to dig Nitmo's grave.

Coze Zaco

 

[Coze Zaco]

Double Trouble​

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tags: Oshin Jantu

Spoiler: Currently Equipped

TBD

To say she lost herself in the mayhem, would be an understatement. By the time she calmed herself, her limbs were still puncturing into the bodies of the bodyguards and guests, the stinging pain of blaster shots had ebbed from her mind, as did the desire to lacerate and mutilate the bodies of those gathered here.

The murderous orb slowly melted back into a singular humanoid being, though Cuze's arms still remained bladed and shaped, her gaze leering into Nitmo, fuming over this whole ordeal, though she didn't put Oshin out of her mind. She eyed the woman, with a look that seemed as distant as a star from the surface of a planet, but Coze didn't forget how dangerous this woman was. She had killed her fair share of people after all, though...could she kill her was a question she didn't want to risk answering. "I came to kill the wretched cur, yes." She said coldly, bladed arms tensing, wanting oh so badly to just swing down, and remove this man from existence.

She formed an 'x' with her bladed arms, and extended them just a few inches further. "Do you intend to stop me?" She asked, curiosity in her voice.

 

[Oshin Jantu]

Spoiler: Music OOC

​

Amid the mayhem, the chaos and carnage, Oshin, the assassin, had killed her fair share.
That much was for certain. This hotel was decadent and yet this luxury suite was spacious.
Enough to have plenty of opportunities for some dead bodies amidst its waterfall and all.
There were the guards in the room, the guards from the hall—tenacious, then smoke in air.

Oh, Oshin had O so covered the room in an ocean of the dead, bolts painted on chests.
To chins, to heads and on stomachs, on legs, she had swept, swam, danced, like a shark.
She had even run across the wall, hopped and flipped, to take lives and to steal breath.
She had cast her blasters, her daggers; but fragments of sharp black ink? Another art.

Oshin’s accomplice, such as she was, had proven to be a weapon in her own vein.
One assassin was a figure clad in black, but the other was black, from lips to veins.
The latter had served as a distraction for Oshin, but the Codru-Ji was no less of one.
Pistols pumping, keeping the enemy pinned, the ooze of midnight killed just as much.

Was the shapeshifting mistress here to kill Oshin Jantu’s same target? Yes.
Was she here to kill Oshin herself? Undetermined. Then another question.
The inky lady was ready to slay, blades in an X. “Do you intend to stop me?”
Pakor Nitmo, the tit, could only gulp for his soul, raising his hands to plead.

-POP!-

Coughed a bolt to bury into Pakor Nitmo’s skull.
“Nope.” Oshin answered as death took its toll.
The Weequay’s body dropped, no further sound.
His assassin shifted her pistols—yet no frown.

“Do you intend to resent me?”
It kinda depended on the assassin.
Whether the other one’s on a contract.
Or just had unfinished business with his ass.

If Oshin had just stolen her counterpart’s target then Miss Pitch Black is welcome to get back.
Some operatives didn’t like it when others claimed their marks, but Oshin had her own contract.
For now, she leveled her blasters toward the tar, or whatever she was, but more as a precaution.
This room wouldn’t stay quiet for long—but Oshin didn’t want to get eaten by ink, being honest.

Coze Zaco