[member="Miss Blonde"][member="Middenface McNulty"][member="Dean Letham"][member="Brent Smith"][member="Yula Knezevic"][member="Lucien Galtier"][member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"][member="Darth Ferox"]@Tirgenis[member="Darth Abyss"][member="Onley Xiangu"]
Martial Law, the pinnacle spectacle of the dime a dozen Military States across the Galaxy. These indolent displays were lacking pizzazz, they were tired and dull. Not to mention so inordinately extreme it was an honest wonder how the people of this world had not simply revolted on their own and overthrown this flabby, ham-fisted Regime by now.
Look at the reaction a handful of Criminals managed to harness just from the mere whisper of their presence on Planet. Fleets were getting rallied, distress calls relayed through the disc for aid, radios and HoloSets crooned endlessly:
Report Suspicious Activity.
Your Rights Are Hereby Revoked.
We Control You.
Sure thing, chum. It'd already become abundantly clear that the case was pointed towards the opposite side of the spectrum. Your Administration failed, your people thought you a bore, your Faction was left as ash at the bottom of the fire barrel. Perhaps next they would bombard the planet from orbit, that seemed to be such a positively smashing tactic that did not cause any type of civil unrest or hard feelings.
Certainly an entire population would not complain that for the actions of so few, they all were left with Jack Boot to throat. After all, ain't the Military State great!? Hail the Overlords! As if further proof needed to be issued about the total disregard the people of this World had for the the Fascists in office; The thrum of music stirred from back street pathway.
The Bloody Sabercat.
It was a local establishment with a reputation of wanton, carnal depravity. A little local dive of a Cantina Club for the more temerarious sort. It's patronage largely Alien and nefarious, the typical hive for the scum and villainy of the Galaxy and those that would call this Goose Stepping Orb their home. With such a wildly massive human population, it was a sanctum for the third-class blow ins.
There weren't nothing Patriotic here. Except for the two dozen or so Military Cadets from Cross-City Brainwashing Mills. Lured in like insect to glowing bulbs, they'd stormed the indecent den of vermin to broaden their horizons and exert their Human supremacy against the sickening dregs that inhabit this abyss of filth.
"Send us the girls!" 20 year old, Brennt Heenan demanded over the boisterous bedlam.
"GIRLS!! Don't need us to report this dump, do y'all?! We might could just let this sleight against our World slide."
"It is indeed'y past that curfew, Chief!"
"Way, way past. All I needs to do is make one call and they'll come and hang you mutts." Brennt said stiffly, grinning like the piece of poodoo he was. That type of brat you just wanted to slap to the ground and stomp some respect and sense in to.
The Rodian Barman gazed carefully at the entitled wights before him. He knew exactly what to do for them. With head turning slowly left, he gave a nod. A number of Cafarel arriving but moments later. As the deliciously curved, pink bodied goddesses strode out. They carefully lured the boys to a large, rounded reserve at the back.
"Now we are talkin', boys!"
"Hot damn!"
"Zeltrons! Yyyeesssss!"
Discarding a large drinking mug that he'd been wiping dry, the Rodian watched his girls convoy the humans in to place.
"Ittu, " He cursed the boys, picking up his HoloCommunicator to place a call to a pair of individuals he knew would really spice up the life prospects of these hairless apes.
"That's it. . . " Brennt sighed slowly as his girl straddled lap.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zqjd7jJ57p0[/youtube]
Her hips, full and perfectly rounded, gyrated with an incredibly powerful lilt, capturing the power of the jarring music that vibrated the sunken den of sin. Both palms pressed to Brennt's chest, arms stony, urging the Cadet to recline on the softly cushioned couch. Left, right, forward, back she strode pelvis against him excessively.
"Here, Daddy." Said another of the Zeltron girls, stretching over to offer him a line of spice while one of his comrades from Academy rolled face fervidly between a deep crevasse of pink cleavage.
"Don't be scared of it, " A third voice spoke, girl bowing between his spread thighs. She most certainly wouldn't, it was anything but monstrous. Barely even average.
It was all just for show, really. A final distraction for anorexic lives that had skipped out on the darker, more excessive existence. There was a whole Galaxy out there, playing good guy on a backwater world like this was such a misuse of that spark of animation and consciousness that one could hardly feel sorry for the karking, xenophobic sithspits.
Thoughts and minds vanished under the sweltering haze of sex and music, hands and mouths trespassed over mountainous curves and full lips. That hammer of musical notes bludgeoning spiced out gray matter to flummoxed daze.
They had no idea what, or whom was coming for them.
Two strangers descended in to the glossed up, radiant, purple glow of the Bloody Sabercat. Both were large, though one considerably more so. The cloak that covered his pendulous white fur looked as if it'd previously found itself shielding a luxury sized speeder from the outside elements.
A number of local and outlying Alien patrons acknowledged the arrival of the two. Touching hooked index fingers to right brow as they tipped heads low, nodding a show of respect before they took to flight from the establishment. Fully aware of what was about to happen inside the buzzing Cantina Club.
The Rodian behind the bar motioned with his head towards the back enclave. His girls still twisting and writhing with purpose on the would be victims.
It'd only take a few minutes to finish, figuratively and literally for these swine.
The Droid and Grigoran plod towards the back, those not in on the plot quickly began to become aware. TripB shoved a local Spice Dealer aside with such ease it'd made the man internally question his life choices.
"Mmnff. . . what's up baby, where you goin'. . " Brennt coo out in to the lyrical assault, his hands bound above his head, eyes blinded by silken cloth.
"Rrrphfkk!! Ughhhnph!" A pair of bilious grunts hurdled out, followed by a distinctly warm wet pool that flood the couch seat under Brennt's leg and back.
"What, the Sith. . . what is that?!" He grunted, if someone puked he was so not ready to process that right now. He knew he should have come alone.
"By EMPEROR!!!"
"Yeah yeah. . . get it, my man. Babe, take this damned rag off my eyes!" A pair of lips pressed forward on to his, he met the lean with forward pressure of his own. Moments later twirling head to side with an aggrivated gag, "What the Empire is that!" Brennt grunted, using his tongue and try and scrub the taste from his mouth.
His blindfold came loose and was pulled away by the Zeltron girl that had rode him so temptingly. There, hanging afront his face, the Droid dangled the open mouthed head of his friend adjacent.
Several words turned to salad as he tried to spit them out, a garbled heave of syllables that not even Six-O could organise in to any type of cohesive statement.
"Yoonula su pacuuho?" The collosial Grigoran breathed with hefty laugh. "Hu dapuulun?" He had raised the Phrik Blade up once more, ready to strike.
"Do you like long slacks, or shorts?" Six-O translated.
"Uh. . . what?! WHAT?! What does that mean, Droid?! Chill, we was just havin' a good time here!"
"It says it prefers shorts." Six-O concluded evilly.
"Dapuulun! Esulloo!"
With blade hoisted high, the large white alien hacked both of the mans legs from body with a single heave. Chopping the limbs two inches above the knee, very cleanly.
"Yrraahhhggllll!" He cried, an outburst of blood spraying like broken fire hydrant from the sudden rupture of his weak body. Staining Xoorurm red with gore.
"The Commonwealth has failed, we send our regards." The Droid informed, lobbing severed head to the side before pumping a round in to the Shotgun he clutched in opposite claw.
Point-blank he thrust the muzzle of the weapon in to the mans groin before letting loose a powerful bang! Sundering what meager machinery this creature was wielding behind it's pants. Every Cadet that entered the Bloody Sabercat that night was ruthlessly murdered.
And every Cadet that died would be left, bodies abused and despoiled, for the whole city to see on the Morning news.
