First Reply GIG: Artificial Red

[Amea Virou]

Sarvod Dravis

This was the part that was inevitable in some ops. There were several unexplored paths that the operative, Sar, could have taken before resorting to explosives. Undoubtedly there was some form of way to force the door in a more discreet way, but Amea was not there to babysit someone through the process of jimmying a lock. She was here to give information and hand out pay, that was all.

As the blasters came into play she began to tense up. Sar proved he was as capable under pressure as he was in the shadows, but that didn’t mean they were through yet. He asked for escape routes and Amea glanced at the hologram before her.

“Roof. You can drop into the back alley and get a head start on your escape.” She said and spun it around. “Or you can try to distract them with another explosive.”

She sighed in frustration to let the tension go. “Roof for a trickier but faster escape, front door for a more dangerous but easier escape.”

“I suppose there is also option C.” Amea said and cleared her throat. “Blow a hole in the wall into the back alley and make a run for it from there instead. Hell, might even level the place if you’re lucky.”

Or unlucky, depending how you look at it.

 

[Sarvod Dravis]

The roof, the front door, or an exit of his own making. Not a bad selection, all things considered.

Rounding a corner at a steady pace, the shouts behind him were confused, angered... and pained. At least one shot had been nonlethal, maybe he was getting sloppy. "Roof it is." Despite his hurry, he kept to a light jog rather than a full sprint; even with his implants, the fog obscured his footing enough that a run would be reckless. A fall would cost him more time than a reasonable pace.

Using the operator's guidance, he skirted around any rapidly scrambled search parties, a task made easier by their reliance on their internal comms. If only they knew. Rounding another bend, he spotted the roof vent he'd flagged as his exit point... and the looming form of a security droid.

Within a fraction of a second he'd aimed and fired - and the droid had done the same. His bolt struck a photoreceptor, the droid's frame shuddering in response, while its crashed into his torso, piercing his armourweave jacket. Crashing to the ground, he lay there, limp, as the machine moved closer. Just as it prepared to grab the case, however, a rolled to the side - barely avoiding the blaster bolt fired in response - and thrust his dagger into a leg joint.

A leg, then a knee, then through the "neck" into its central processor. Panting heavily, he rose to his feet and moved towards the vent.

"Subdermal armouring. Best damn investment I ever made."

Amea Virou​

 

[Amea Virou]

Sarvod Dravis

Swift, fast, precise. Amea’s expectations going in had been low which had led her to be happily surprised at everything she had seen so far.

“Nonono, no!” Amea exclaimed in worry as the man toppled over under the droid. As he stirred and got back up again she put her hand to her chest with a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness.”

He disposed of the droid, made for the vents as the floors down below lit up and the massive garage doors opened up. With flashlight beams held high to check the incoming forces corners. But by the time the flashlight shone towards the downed droid Sar was already gone. The light thump of feet in a ventilation shaft echoed against the backdrop of the formerly quiet warehouse.

“The vents!” One of them exclaimed as blaster bolts were fired off towards the metallic shaft above. At least they had at first before, “Oh sh-”

A scream of pain called out as one of the shamblers lurched at one of the guards with a firm bite into his neck. The shots taken at the vent stopped for a moment as the guards began to open fire on their former comrade who continued to stand up and stagger towards another one. His arms latched onto their shoulders, scorch marks and exit wounds riddled across their body before they finally collapsed.

“Where the hell did that schutta go?!” The guards called into their radios. “Spread out. Find them!”

And that, was when Amea figured enough was enough.

“Disconnect from this channel immediately.” She broadcast, but not to the channel that Sar himself had to her but to the one she had been let into by Sar. If he was clever he’d do what she said, as little more than a second later a high-pitched screech began to spread through the buzz of comms.

People writhed in pain, ears bled, and with that Amea disconnected as well and reconnected with Sar.

“That should keep them occupied for a bit.” She laughed. “Now, meet me at the Shrinking Nexu. I believe we have a matter of payment to discuss before we hightail it out of here. Separately.”

 

[Sarvod Dravis]

He'd made it to the vents before the cavalry came crashing in, thank the Force for that, but for a moment it looked grim anyway, blaster bolts ripping through the vent through which he crawled at semi-random intervals. As quickly as it had begun, however, it stopped - and not long after his operator instructed him to disconnect; used to following orders in the field, he did so immediately, and a bloody good thing too.

The sudden lack of blasterfire lending to the assumption that whatever she had done worked as intended, he smiled softly, slipped out of the vent, and upon seeing the mobile-device-user from earlier squinting uselessly off the side of the roof actually chuckled.

"Lovely, see you there."

---

He hadn't taken the most direct route - but then he was carrying a stolen item with an obvious blaster burn in his jacket. The latter had been taken care of by switching it out for a different jacket from a street merchant, and the former... well, it wouldn't be his problem for long.

Distinctive case hidden within a duffel bag secured from a different vendor, he strolled into the Nexu like a thirsty man with nothing to hide, shifting his mannerisms to resemble an off-his-luck travelling businessman more than a mercenary.

Approaching his contact with the greasy smile of someone trying his best to score on a schedule, he slid into a seat a bit to close to her, leaned forward, and promptly flashed her a sardonic smile. "One package, neatly-wrapped and awaiting delivery."

Amea Virou​

 

[Amea Virou]

Sarvod Dravis

A man stumbled in on a mission, made his way over towards Amea’s booth with a queasy smile that made it all too obvious who she was. Well, to Amea at least. She had just helped him through a small-time heist after all. He dove into her booth and the amused smile on her lips quickly turned into something more uncomfortable. He was too close, even if she was supposed to keep cover.

“Excellent.” She swept the case into her hands and scooched away from the man as she pocketed it in a satchel she had kept close at hand. It was clear she did not like proximity, at least not unless she had given the go ahead first. The almost sickened grimace on her lips made that much clear, but it eventually faded into a more neutral stare.

“And here’s four-point-seven-five-kay from yours truly.” Amea nodded at Sar and slid a credit chit across the table. “You are free to see the extra two-fifty as more of an extra incentive, should you require a job in the future or if you happen to pass my way on another delivery.”

“But for now, I trust that our business is concluded here?” She grinned and looked around the bar before her eyes set on the man again.

 

[Sarvod Dravis]

It was hard to tell whether his approach actually made his contact genuinely uncomfortable, or whether she was simply a good actress; in the end, it did not matter all that much. They were both professionals, momentary discomfort was nothing next to the promise of a prompt payday.

Slipping the credit chip into a hidden pocket, he hefted his now-empty bag once more, doing his best to seem offended.

"That it is - and the incentive is noted. Safe travels." Making one last use of his subvocal comms as he left in a huff, Sar made his way out onto the street, checked for pursuit on habit more than anything, and proceeded to recover the gear he had hidden before taking this job. A date with a smugger was waiting for him this fine evening, a paranoid bastard who'd refuse anything but physical credits - it would not do to be late.

Amea Virou​