Hit and Run [Azula]

[Runi Verin]

​

Corusca Sector; Coruscant
The Slippery Nerf Cantina
Level 1216
[member="Azula Yeshevsky"]

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Coruscant. It was easy to see why the sprawling ecumenopolis was once the shining jewel in the crown of the Republic and the core worlds. Not even the presence of the Sith empire could rob it of its former glory, readily apparent by the gleaming duracrete spires that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Truly a testament to both the architectural prowess and the unrivalled affluence that the former galactic centre once, and perhaps to a degree still did, possessed. Of course, the veneer began to chip once you dropped below the first hundred or so levels, revealing the twisted and misshapen core that was the planet’s true form.

Down here, amongst the perpetual twilight created by the shadows of those same gleaming spires, life was a very much different game of sabacc. A game where the buy in was cheap, but the stakes infinitely high in comparison to the meagre pot you came away with. If you came away at all. Even before the Sith broke the back of the Republic, countless sentients had ventured to the galactic centre each year looking for their fortune, only to instead find themselves sinking further and further into its seemingly bottomless depths. The strong managed to survive living off the scraps that filtered down from above, etching out a meagre existence well beyond the protection of the world’s security forces, while the weak found themselves gradually disappearing, falling victim to the incessant dangers that lurked in the shadows of the Undercity. Like its twisted parody, Nar Shaddaa, crime was the only thing that seemed to truly flourish at this level.

Fortunately, however, unlike the Smuggler’s moon, the Coruscanti underworld had no real dominant power since the empire had rolled into town, making it an opportunist paradise for the more independent minded criminals and factions. That single saving grace of a fact was one of the few things that could tempt Runi to venture this far from the Outer-Rim territories that she usually worked. Although, as she sat across from the scarred face Devaronian that Dasooga had sent her to meet, she was seriously starting to rethink that choice.

The thing leered, its greasy lips curling back to reveal the sea of broken and stained teeth of a pyrepenol addict. “Twenty thousand,” He spat, jabbing a clawed finger her way. “And not a single credit more. Even then I am cutting my own throat, yes? You take.”

“Twenty?” Ru repeated flatly, her face doing little to discard the disbelief that colored her words in the face of the man’s attempt to rob her blind. Either born out of simple greed or the pyrepenol finally rotting what little brain cells the Devaronian had left, the salvager-cum-smuggler honestly couldn’t tell any more. “The agreed price was thirty, Dakko. I didn’t haul it through Sith and Republic lines for twenty thousand. You know Dasooga won’t take any less than that.”

“This my problem, cheeka?” The creature now identified as Dakko let fly a laugh at his own joke, one that broke the realms of both shrill and piercing with equal measure. "I deal with kajidics long before Sith crawl out of shadows. Before your mother deem it prudent to uncross her legs and grozit you out. I think I be doing so long after you have faded from memory. Take twenty and be glad of generosity. I will not offer it aga―”

Before Ru knew it, her cybernetic fist had slammed down on the table with a hefty crunch of splintered wood, causing Dakko to flinch and the men behind him to reach for their weapons. She paid them no heed, eyes squarely boring into the horned hut’uun before her, anger singing a war song through her veins. “Ne shab’rud’ni, Dakko” She ground out between clenched teeth, her native accent shining through. “If you don’t want to trade, fine. I’m sure your brother would be more welcoming. I hear he at least puts on a meal before trying to feth you over. Give me the thirty thou or I walk.”

There was a pregnant pause as her words sunk in, Dakko watching her intently for several long heart beats before he let loose another laugh, one just as grating as the first. “Ahh, such fire, little girl. If I was not married, eh?” He slapped the table again appreciatively, the bells on his horns jangling softly as he shook his head. Not even once did that sick smile fade from his face, not even when he waved his men forward with a flick of his wrist. “A counter proposal, yes? I take the cargo, free of charge. You? You we dump in the undercity, let Cthons eat flesh and gnaw bones. Tell Dasooga you double cross, steal his shipment and escape. All round better plan, yes?”

‘No, not really,’ Ru thought absently to herself, her hand already straying towards the blaster on her hip, a futile gesture in the grand scheme of things. The men behind Dakko were at least a second or two ahead of her in that regard, already moving to draw bead on her before her hand had even touched the weathered butt of her pistol. That was about the time the world promptly went to hell.

 

[Nymeria Vizsla]

Resting rather comfortably across her belly, Azula Yeshevesky watched through her scope as the deal went down. The assassin snuggled herself in a window a few hundred feet across from her target and waited for the perfect moment to execute another contract, end another life. By now Azula must have been following him from the shadows for the last hour and thirty some minutes, and she was getting a little trigger happy, so to speak.

Nevertheless Azula had her eye on the prey like a cat watches mice; in other words she had no plans of letting it's gross, slimy head stray from her bows sights. However an unidentified obstacle was presenting her with a problem. A young female with brown hair, skin, and eyes. Whom had yellow markings across her face, causing Azula to believe she was kiffar decent. See, she was unexpected. And in this line of work, unexpected was another term for annoying. And the way this was falling apart it seemed she would have to be apart of the collateral, another unnamed target.

Yet Azula would wait, as the cat that kills the mice is patient, and never takes risks. Currently the Devaronian seemed to be getting in bad with said obstacle, or more likely the other way around. Azula couldn't hear a word but she figured so as the kiffar started to show signs of anger and stress. At this Azula grinned under her mask, her eyes falling specifically on the kiffar.

Hmm, feisty are we? She thought, her eyes slightly rolling.

It was a shame she was going to put an arrow through her head.

She then noticed from her scope that the kiffar started reaching for her blaster, in any case, this was bad. Assassinating was a hard job period. When everyone started running around shooting one another it was a nightmare. Azula quickly aimed back on the Devaronian named Dakko. All she could think was 'there goes the perfect kill'; as the contact specifically said to make it look like an accident. Hell, there goes 100k as well, all thanks to this 'obstacle'. It was annoyances like these that made her life stressful.

Azula then pulled an arrow and positioned it across the string. She drew her bowstring and closed her left eye, squinting the other.

There was a gust of wind and it seemed that all noise had ceased and time stopped. The murmur of conversation and sound of ships flying all around, gone.

The assassin then let go of the string. And everything returned to normal.

A quick 'thwip' sound occured as it left the bow and made its trip through the murky undercity air. Azula couldn't hear, but she assumed the sight of a brain being ripped in two would be a pretty gut-wrenching thing to see.

The sith assassin didn't have time to think though, she couldn't be sure the man was dead as his falling put him out of her sights. To comfirm the kill, she would have to go down there herself. Azula let her training act alone as she grabbed another arrow from the quiver that was attached to her side. This one was special though, she took the rope from her pack and tied it to the top of the window, pulling it tight with her teeth while her free hand drew the string and launched the razor tipped bow into one of the larger guards in the room. Azula then hooked her belt on the rope and hopped out of the window, she was easily light enough to make it across before the man on the other end fell of the ledge. Most would see this as risky, but a girl like Azula made the calculations minutes before she executed them.

Once she landed on the platform, the assassin eyed the room. Now that she was able to get a 360% view, she quickly applied her tactics, a fine escape route, and who she needed to kill to do it. She had a moment to look at the kiffar as well. She locked eyes with her, meeting the brown eyes and discovering something she had never expected. Her eyes told a story, they showed her determination. This was something the echani could appreciate, as this was a trait she had as well. Though, Azula had no time for her, she was a witness of the crime after all. The assassin then reached for a knife, but before she could get her hand on one, one of the guardsmen grabbed her arm. In defense, Azula swung around and punctured his face with the edge of her boot.

As the others had surly drawn their blasters by now, Azula wrapped her arm around him and used him as a temporary shield to get back to where the kiffar was.

Locking eyes with her once more, Azula decided then and there that the kiffar stayed alive.

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

Things seemed to slow down Runi faced off against Dakko and his goons, as if the passage of time had become mired in Zelosian treacle, forcing her to watch on as her blaster failed to clear her holster in time with a painful clarity. She should have known that this job would be the death of her. Working for the Hutts, the Besadii kajidic no less, it was only a matter of time before one of their ‘little’ errands punched her ticket. Never thought it would be on Coruscant, however. Ever since she was a child, she’d always pictured her end in one of the crumbled, trash filled alleyways back on Kol Atorn. Made what was about to happen almost tolerable in a twistedly morbid way.

It was at that point Dakko abruptly sprouted a third horn, one he seemed just as mystified about as everyone else in the room. He turned to glance at his men with blank incomprehension, giving Runi a chance to glimpse at the broadhead sticking out of the back of his skull before he toppled over. A dull silence blanketed the cantina once more, punctuated by the appearance of yet another arrow, this time streaking its way through the chest of the weequay enforcer on her left. Like Dakko he was dead before he even hit the floor, a death rattle gurgling on his thin lips even as [member="Azula Yeshevsky"] crashed onto the scene, a phantom of death and darkness.

Their gaze met for a single instant, warm brown matching cold amber, surprising etching across her face even as the spell that had settled in over the cantina broke. Whoever the brunette was, she wasn’t her enemy. She knew that then and there, although would be hard pressed later to explain why. Regardless, she had brought Runi the time she had needed to draw her blaster, turn and train it on the still shocked guards.
Whumpf. Whumpf. Whumpf. The chopped down carbine-cum-blaster let fly a trio of blasts in quick succession, lancing wide across the cantina as it blastscored furniture and sent the former Dakko’s men diving for cover. If they had been a touch more observant, they might have noticed that the blasts never once came within a foot of them, but then men like Dakko rarely hired their underlings for their intellect. A fact that suited Runi just fine in that particular instance. The dumber they were, the great chance she had of getting out of here in one piece. Or at the very least vertical and under her own power.

“I don’t know who you are,” The Kiffar squeezed off another shot to ensure the goons were kept in quiet contemplation of their navels, another following suit a second later that smashed the bottles stationed behind the bar and sent a wave of glass cascading across the cantina. She glanced at the assassin, “An’ don’t know I care to neither, but the way I see it you’re probably my best bet of getting out of here while I’m still breathin’. Figure I’m probably yours, too, ‘lek?”

A blaster bolt flashed wide as if to underline the point she was making, warranting a response in kind from her own weapon. Once again a little too wide, but enough to by her a second or two of time to start backing up out of the cantina, jerking her head at the other woman as if to tell her to do likewise. It wouldn't be long before Dakko’s men either rallied or got it into their heads to try something stupid. Nor would it be long before Dakko’s employers, crime bosses far beyond Runi’s scope, caught word of what was going on and sent men to deal with the interlopers. “We’ve overstayed our welcome, dontcha think?”

 

[Nymeria Vizsla]

While the Kiffar was speaking, Azula was slightly paying attention and slightly not, as three, or maybe four guards ran towards them. One intelligent man decided to jump over the table and attack from 'above'. Although, before he even hit the ground the vigilante took her SC-4 blaster and sent a shot right up his chin. He then fell flat on the table and with this Azula blew her bangs out of her eyes. The wig she had chosen to conceal her identity, while very cool looking could use some adjustments. This was expected though, not the circumstances of how this affair was turning out. No, the costume. It was only the third night she was wearing it.

"You, maybe, I still have business here." She said in response to the Kiffar, her attention still focused on the incoming henchmen. See, Azula's real assignment here was not only an assassination but also a info grab, she needed to 'talk' to Dakko about a bigger operation going on. Considering how things worked out though, she would have to make one of these henchmen work. And by the way they were acting so loyal to their fallen boss, a few of her questions were already answered. Normal thugs would have run off by now. They were protecting something.

While she was semi lost in her thoughts Azula was nearly stabbed in the heart from the side. Just barely seeing the blade she made sure to make good use of her skills in Valanarian boxing to quickly block his attack. Grabbing his hand she cracked it out of socket and rotated it, thrusting the knife into his gut. She would let him bleed out, suffer so the others remembered her image. The last man then approached from the kiffar's side, this one was easy to see coming though, she simply raised the blaster in her hand and put a few holes in him. While she wasn't so proficient with the SC-4 yet, she would have had to be blind to miss a shot that close.

The last man that came was the only left, the others had ran off. Probably to call for help, backup. Azula would be long gone before then though.There was also the chance they ran out of fear, that thought put a smirk on her face.

As the final man reached a few feet from the table, she stood. Relieving herself for him to look upon.

If this were a movie, perhaps this was when the epic music would blare for all to hear.

She was clad in a black suit, with a red cross running all the way across the front. She wore a scarlet wig which was very long, and on her face was a black mask with two pointed ends coming off the top that may have appeared to some as ears. She also made it a point to paint her face so white she appeared as a ghost. Additionally, running around her waist and legs was a brown-coat utility belt, painted red of course. Two katanas were attached to both sides of the belt and a blaster strapped onto her leg. Many other tools were on her belt, as well. Most notably the grappling spike. Perhaps though, the most technically advanced, and also Azula's personal favorite was the long cape that came from her shoulders. She didn't even know entirely how it worked yet, she simply described what she wanted to her employer, whom was the young woemn's father, [member="Darth Vaildra"]s . She did know what it was capable of though. She very well knew she was equipped to do what she had to. The real question was, could she find the confidence to believe in herself, to become the image she intended to be?

There she stood, the man, probably 3 meters away from her. The man in front of her was young. Hell she couldn't even tell if he was a man yet. Probably 18, maybe 17. Azula took her blaster, and carefully put it into the holster. She then looked up, meeting his young eyes, and she reached her hand out for him. The other hand, almost as if it was lightning fast grabbed her grappling gun and launched it right at him, the hook latching onto his leg and pulling him right into her strong grip.

Her cold amber eyes and looked right through him.

"Who did Dakko work for?" She asked, her thick accent shining through her voice.

He simply shook, his legs kicking at her, she then grabbed his hand and broke it at the wrist. Taking hold of the other one and letting a grim look appear on her dark red lips.

"Look, kid, you better tell me before I break every bone in your body!"'

"Do it, do it you queen! I ain-"

At this Azula threw him to the ground and turned away, growling under her breath and almost instantly turning back around, kicking his head right to the floor. Nothing severe though, she simply knocked him out. Worst case scenario is he would get a migraine that would last a few days. She couldn't kill a kid.

With a sigh Azula then looked back, surprised to see the kiffar hadn't run off by now.

A grimace smile then formed upon her lips as she broke the silent stare.

"Normally stick around to watch vigilantes beat up cartel members, or is this a first time?"

[member="Runi Verin"]

 

[Runi Verin]

[member="Azula Yeshevsky"]

Runi had been no stranger to vigilantes or associated acts of violence, even before she was inducted into the ranks of the Wardens. After all, once you get far enough from the core, the only justice you’ll find is the kind you can exact with your own two hands. Or the two hands of anyone in your employ if you had the creds. Such justice was often as visceral as it was short lived, brutal as it was vindictive. The redhead before her, however, was something else entirely. Something new and aggressively wild. Neither petty retribution or Hierogryph styled good deed, this was a whirlwind of destruction and chaos personified. A woman on a mission.

Her attention snapped back to the present just in time to block an incoming haymaker with her elbow, gritting her teeth as the blow rattled her teeth and caused her to stagger slightly from the impact. Undeterred, the weequay that had struck her just grinned savagely as he sought to press what little advantage he had left, holographing another wild swing at her head. With her focus firmly back on the here and now, intercepting the blow again was almost painfully easy, making that earlier missed blow that much more embarrassing. She lent voice to her irritation with a quick snap punch to the man’s stomach while he was still off balance, putting a little Force behind it to really drive the blow home, following up with vicious elbow to his chin as he doubled over. Between the ruptured spleen and the broken jaw, he was out like a cheap light before he even touched the ground.

Hardly an elegant solution, especially when compared the self-proclaimed vigilante’s antics over there, but then few could rival the simple, violent beauty of the echani style, albeit an obviously bastardised version. The Stava she could understand, appreciating a vicious follow up as much as the next girl, but Valanarian boxing? The kiffar’s mouth crinkled in distaste as she continued to observe the woman work the room, keeping the bulk of her attention on any other would be assailants. Fortunately, the Redhead was presenting them with enough of a target that she hardly had to worry.

In fact, Runi could have slipped away then and there, no one the wiser. With Dakko dead and a cargo of illicit contraband currently burning a hole in her cargo bay, it would have been the smart play. Check out while the going was still… Well, good wasn’t quite the right word in this situation, but things weren’t completely unsalvageable. There were plenty of other bosses on Coruscant that would pay good credits for Dasooga’s goods. Dakko’s aforementioned brother, for instance. No, if Runi was smart, she would have left before hell well and truly descended down upon this cantina. Except she stayed. Like a karking idiot, she stayed.

“Maybe I like watching people get their just desserts.” Runi countered hotly, not sure if she was angry at the woman, Dakko’s inevitable betrayal or herself at that particular moment. For getting into the situation and sticking around like a dullheaded nerfherder. “Or maybe I was dumbstruck by that ridiculous fighting style. Seriously, Valanarian boxing? You do realise you only have two arms, right? I mean, I know I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you can count that high...”

She shook her head as holstered her blaster, her messy dark locks swaying irritably in the loose ponytail she’d seen fit to confine them to. The woman might have very well saved her life, but that didn’t mean Ru was about to be pleasant about it. Besides, judging from that little failed interrogation attempt, she was here for much bigger reason that saving some sorry assed fringer from becoming a kiffar shaped cthon chewtoy. She didn’t owe her anything. Only she did. And worse still, she knew it, too.

“Juxquin.” She said softly, glancing away towards the cantina door, mentally cursing herself for not walking through it that very second. “You wanted to know who Dakko worked for, right? His name is Juxquin. Juxquin Karkin’ Danere. Never dealt with him myself, but I hear he’s some big shot Gotal that used to work for the Black Sun. Now he runs most of the import, export business for the 1200s, making him one of a few people on this sithforsaken planet Dasooga’s willing to do business with. Well, until now. I figure he’s probably gonna reassess that after word gets around about Dakko over stretching.”