FO Dominion of Manpha | Corruption Has Its Consequences

[Dominic Craig]

Dominic ran through the engine room, as a wall of volatile heat followed him. Flames lapped at every corner, and engulfed all in its wake. The vessel shook, as the engines either overheated, or fell victim to the engulfing flame. Dominic sprinted in and around the vessel, trying to escape an early grave. And that was when he saw his avenue for escape. The viewport, in the distance. That was it, his only chance. The FOSB Officer sprinted toward it, breathe becoming heavy with smoke. His entire body, now aching. Leaping forward, Dominic's mass shattered the porthole, and got him in.

Special Agent Craig however didn't have the momentum to carry himself through the window, and had to physically pull himself through it. Reaching out, Dominic did just that, sliding through, feeling heat lapping at his souls, as the explosions increased. Quickly, he slid out, and onto a back deck of the vessel, his body hitting the deck with a dull thud. He was out. But by no means had he escaped yet. Starring in and around, searching for any guards, Dominic now moved to his escape.

[member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Isobel Nakano"]

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Path of the Toad
With: [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Castor Ren"]

Kyrel moved quickly as darts came zooming in from the trees. It had seemed the Shadwa Ubb had not taken their trespassing so lightly, and while he had clearly thought that they would remain passive. Not bringing a weapon to harm them, and yet here he was wrong, one of the darts broke through his armorweave cape, hitting the armor before falling off of it. It wasn't strong enough to penetrate his armor but knew from Castor's reaction that it still wasn't something to be taken lightly that is. Still the weapons they possessed while primitive, still posed a threat to the Ren. While Kyrel always looked forward to a fight, he wasn't that eager in this particular situation, he wanted to know why they were being attacked other than being outsiders.

Seeing Castor's face as one of quick awareness, looking around as if to guard against the next attack. "That was quite unexpected I did not think that they would attack. Hmmm let's see if we can try to reach out to them." He paused before moving to the trees for a moment, in all likely hood it was not a good idea, although he had thought that it would be better than nothing, perhaps by talking to them, they would not need to be on guard constantly. Perhaps it would give the team an advantage over them that is. He called out in a cold tone. "We do not wish any of you harm, and we do not want conflict! We know you are all out there, we ask of you to come out now, and we will not hurt you!" Kyrel stood to wait for an answer, as if it would be unlikely that he would receive one.

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: Path of the Toad
Nearby: [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"]

"Neither did I, yet here we are." Castor snarled under his breath." Displeasure was plainly written across Castor's features. Not only had he been irritated at the slow progress they'd been making on his account, but now also the fact that it was no longer just his feet that were wet. Even as the Knight scowled at his predicament, Kyrel raised his voice to address their assailants. ""We do not wish any of you harm, and we do not want conflict! We know you are all out there, we ask of you to come out now, and we will not hurt you!" Castor was shocked for a moment, the boldness with which the Master of Ren stood - unafraid. Much to his surprise, the man wasn't struck by an onslaught of darts, instead, a croaking voice formed from the mist.

"Why are you here? You carry the presence of death!"

The Knight could only guess that these Toadies, for lack of a better term, had felt the darkness contained within the three of them present. The Dark Side was difficult to mask - and the trio even more so. It was a dangerous situation, one in which the Knights of Ren were at a disadvantage. What would they do next? Letting the Masters do the talking he carefully rest his hand on the hilt of his own blade. If things degraded further, he wouldn't die empty handed.

 

[The Major]

Objective: Suddenly Pirates
Location: Space over Manpha
Allies: First Order

From a deeper, spacebound point came a trio of FOSB vessels which arched downward on an obvious, discreet course for the surface of Manpha. Two of the older patrol vessels flanked a stealth corvette in what could be a second wave of support to aid the operations below.

All was set to be a simple method of gathering further intel on the cargo vessels that were on the path of approach. However, a snag of sorts occurred.

Suddenly, a small fleet of various mismatched pirate frigates popped in from hyperspace, nearly crashing upon the trio of First Order vessels. Of course, it would be impossible to tell if those interlopers were in fact pirates. Perhaps it was the way that they suddenly started firing on the formation of Supreme Leader’s forces. Aftermarket powered discount turbolasers bounced off of shields and criss-crossed between both groups. A number of fighters were fastened to the bottom of the patrol vessels, and these quickly found themselves sent to help harass and defeat the motley collection of pirate vessels.

These pilots were experts, so when a pair of shipping cargo haulers were identified within the protection of the pirate vessels, they understandably focused their attacks away from that threat.

General distress beacons were activated.

[member="Dante Calgar"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"]

 

[Luther Lewis]

Objective: Dissolution
Allies: [member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Isobel Nakano"] | [member="Dominic Craig"]
Location: Private Suites, Yacht

​

Lewis Goodchild’s cabin, when compared to Carson’s, had a more modest sense of luxury. His wealth was emphasised on the large amounts of expensive food and drink. Such a gratuitous amount of food provided a bizarre juxtaposition when compared to the oil baron himself. The man was skinny, most likely bordering underweight, and had a pallid tone to his skin. He sat behind an enormous mahogany desk that must have been a nightmare to get into the cabin. The man gestured for Luther to sit opposite him, tapping impatiently on his armrest as the agent moved to do so.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Mr Issac” Goodchild said, his voice as soft as sandpaper. “Do you have any proof of what you claim”. The man looked as if he wore a perpetual frown. Luther retrieved the incriminating document, handing it over to Goodchild. The man grabbed the document, retrieving a pair of gold rimmed spectacles from the drawer. Reading over the document, the oil magnate raised his eyebrow.

“You must know how much damage this document must cause me, Mr Issac” Goodchild said, his voice slightly livelier now. “Why would you just hand it over?”. Luther allowed himself to smile slightly. “As a show of good faith Mr Goodchild. You see, I represent the First Order”. That prompted another eyebrow raise. “And we’d like you to work unofficially for us”. Goodchild let out what must have been his version of a hearty laugh, little more than an active wheeze. “Very amusing. While I thank you for delivering me the only means of my doom, I see no reason to accept a proposal that benefits me no way whatsoever”.

Luther shrugged. “That is a shame, I’m sure Wendy will be disappointed her father wasn’t a bigshot with the Order”. Goodchild froze. “What did you say?” he snarled. “I said Wendy” Luther replied, his tone low and his eyes as hard as flint. “Your illegitimate daughter. She’s currently enjoying life in a pretty townhouse on Dossuun under FO payroll, although she thinks the money comes from you. We’re keeping a close eye on her”. Goodchild said nothing, and Luther retrieved a datapad from his pocket. “And there is this” Luther replied, handling over the device. “Scans of the document, already sent out to HQ”.

Luther rose from his seat and started making his way to the exit. Halfway there he turned back to face the stunned oil baron. “Let me make things crystal clear, Mr Goodchild. Either you assist us in Eleanor Carson’s dissolution or we will bring you both down into the mud”. He clicked his heels together and gave a small bow.

“Good day”.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel felt the ship shudder to punctuate [member="Val Kordova"]'s warning. "Are you kriffing kidding me?" she spat in disbelief as the ship lurched. She suddenly smelled burning fuel, and from belowdecks she saw belching, billowing black smoke. "So... we're going loud, I guess," she told Val over the communicator.

She hurried into the hall, unsheathing her blaster from beneath her skirt and hiding it under her cloak as she hurried onto the deck. It was bedlam; people were running hither and thither in a panic. Isobel spotted the married couple towards the bow and hurried towards them. She gave a vicious hip-check to Acklay, tossing her clumsily over the railing. It didn't matter how clumsy it was; Acklay tumbled over the railing to her death on the rocks hundreds of feet below. Her husband rounded on Isobel in shock, and she pressed her blaster to his chest and pumped two shots into it. It evaporated in a spray of super-heated flesh and blood and Isobel pushed his lifeless body over the railing.

"Do we have eyes on -- whatever the hell he's called?" Isobel demanded as she turned and scanned the deck. Luckily, the other passengers were too concerned with the yacht's rapidly-approaching demise to notice her murders.

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: Dissolution
Allies: [member="Isobel Nakano"] | [member="Dominic Craig"] | [member="Luther Ando"]

Before she could get the shot off, Mockingbird watched with amusement as the elegantly clad Lotus nimbly hip checked Acklay over the edge. Why take the risk of a missed shot? Val smiled. With rising admiration for her fellow agent, Val watched the artistic flair in which Lotus weaved and bobbed through the madness on deck, mentally checking off targets as she watched her work. It was a sight to behold. The chaos of it all drew her glass across the deck at the mention of 'the other guy'. *Chit.*

"Mynock. It's Mynock. Locating now, standby." Scanning right to left she searched the lower deck rail. *What room was it.. what room was it..* She tried to remember the room she'd seen the Mr. half of the St. John's enter. *One One Six? One Seven One? One One Seven!* Tracking along the rail Mockingbird tried to glimpse sight of the number or their target. Biting the inside of her cheek she scowled. She needed to locate him, if he survived.. no, he couldn't survive. Her heart stopped for a second, the familiar features of Mr. St. John greeting her eyes as she stared through the glass. *No hesitation.* VWAPP!

The shot was off. Several miliseconds later she watched a crimson flower bloom in the center of the man's chest, his facial expression one of shock, of disbelief, and then nothingness. Before his body even hit the deck Mockingbird was calling it out. "Mynock down. That's a wrap - recommend you exfil, stat." she alerted Lotus. Things were heating up, literally and figuratively as yacht security began to make an appearance on deck - armed security.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel quickly turned when the security came on board and she dumped the pistol after Mr. and Mrs. Temple. If anyone found them, her prints would be gone and so would Isobel, onto her next hit. "Nice one," Isobel muttered into the microphone, and she could almost hear [member="Delilah Graham"]'s sardonic smile as she began typing up the after action report noting the success of her op. Isobel adopted the tone of a panicked yacht guest and followed the crew's instructions. Lifeboats were being loaded at the aft of the yacht -- small, 4-6 person dinghies with small engines at the back. As the yacht continued to burn, the Security Bureau agent joined the queue, nervously ticking down time as the yacht's list continued to grow.

By virtue of her gender -- thank goodness -- Isobel was sheparded to the front of the queue by chivalrous gentlemen, and she took the hand of the crewman offering it to help her into the boat, then settled onto one of the uncomfortable seats. She was joined by another pair of women and then the old, deaf Colonel. Even in crisis, she couldn't be rid of him, somehow.

An explosion rocked the yacht as the dinghy pulled away. "Huh? Whassat?" asked the Colonel. Isobel rolled her eyes so hard they hurt behind her lids and said: "THE SHIP'S EXPLODED!" over the roar of the engine. She pointed over his shoulder to where it looked like the yacht had lost power to maintain its position, and was teetering at the edge of the falls. "God help whoever is left on board," she muttered to herself. Then, sensing the Colonel's question, she repeated herself in a bellow.

[member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Dominic Craig"]

 

[Dominic Craig]

The water slapped against the Special Agent's body, making him grievously wince when he made it through. His body sank, weighed down by clothes and his attire, and for a moment, he sat in stillness in the bog water, until he seemingly reawoke. Arms flailing, Dominic struggled to get himself to the surface, and when he did, he swallowed a mouthful of the bitter, almost sulfuric water. He gagged, but kept afloat. Before him, the boat continued to explode. Flames and smoke lapping at the sky with each fresh detonation.

Helluva a job on his part, if he didn't mind saying so himself of course. Still, he had to get to shore. Who knew what creatures stalked these waters, and more importantly, this was a prime opportunity to get rid of any survivors who tried to scramble ashore. Perfect opportunity. Looking at the distant land, Dominic Craig, slowly and surely went to paddle. His body ached, but his spirit felt something of a high. He had triumphed, and the others had failed. And in doing so, now he was sure of his victory.