Nightfall [FO/GA]

Adder · Aug 30, 2017

[member="Kiyron"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="Zmej Ren"] | [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Jamie Pyne"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Isabella Fonti"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

“I, ah—” green eyes danced away from Aela to the Queen. Shet. Did she know about it? Could she tell her? Was she allowed to tell—

"But, how do you know about that?"

Well. That was one worry less.

Her brow remained furrowed as she glanced between her friend and the young noble. So very, very young. The one time the universe had actually listened to her had to be now, when she’d wished for some crap to happen so she wouldn’t have to… eh, kark it.

Rubbing her forehead, Adder simply keyed in a sequence into the datalogger on her wrist. Several authentications later, she flicked the mic on, and played back the message from the SIS agent in the street.

Faster that way. And it saved her the trouble of explaining.

“That ain’t no smuggler shuttle, ma’am.” Shet. “Your Majesty.”

Before she could bury herself completely, a massive suit of armor barreled in. And— fffffffffffffffeth. Who the hell was this man? How did he know?

Her face and neck took on the vivid color of her hair, and her gut tied itself into a taut knot.

“I—” Adder stammered for the fifth time in as many seconds, trying to swallow the heat burning her throat. She licked her dry lips. “Who are you?”

The Major · Aug 30, 2017

While Agent Ravel worked her peculiar brand of inept aptitude, the other agent generally referred to by the moniker "Major" -since finding out her real name was about as easy as asking her- pondered if the op. leader whisked about like this on purpose. After all, it was a little better to work from a place of underdog than full blown hero. Or, possibly, Emilia was just young, which was something that tended to prevail the ranks of the First Order. Not that the Major was any better herself. Her haughty youthful pride summed up her chagrin with the situation all in the glare of her eyes. It was almost. . . annoying that this operation was fraught with so many painstaking mistakes.

Orders and sitreps were exchanged. Meanwhile the slicer on board prepared a number of electronic deceptions that would aide them in the coming hours. Always attentive to her surroundings, she feigns pricking up her ears when Officer Ravel begins to address Mr. V and the four eyed wonder.

It wasn't exactly the greatest speech in history, but the Major was truly a compassionate soul, and empathized deeply with the human struggle. Generously, she decides to help her op. leader further.

"Very well." She flatly said with an annoyed huff.

"I'll follow you into the palace, watch your back, and make sure you get out safely. But keep your blaster in your pants. Attention is more deadly than any single enemy right now. How about you, Mr. V? Attention would suit you very well right now with that kit."

Could it be? Was there an encouraging tone rising up in the Major's voice; one that would inspire Emilia with the confidence that was camaraderie? Bonds of steel that would never be broken, even in the end of bloody combat or torture at the hands of the Galactic Alliance.

Sure.

There was no need to mention that the safest place to be would be in palace. The further in this motley party could get, the more likely the Major could assume another role or steal an identity if things went terribly wrong, fading away into the background and total irrelevance with the aid of illusions and immersion until she could make it back to the First Order. Of course, she would love for her fellow agents to make it. She truly was rooting for them. Yes. Go team! Assemble and fight on! However, the Fallanassi fully anticipated not to burn on this mission tonight.

A smile spread on her face.

Perhaps this agent was focusing in on the objective.

Dresden Verbrennung · Aug 31, 2017

Dresden swore and lit up a cigarette. It wasn't very tactical, but frankly, that was the least of their concerns.

"If either of you think you're making it into that palace, you're off your meds. I just had to abandon all of our heavy weaponry, the city is almost surely on alert by now, and unless I'm a lot more deaf than I realized, you just shot someone in the middle of the frigging city. Someone who is almost surely going to alert palace security. I've been on some Grade A Charlie Foxtrots, but this takes the friggin cake."

Dresden's voice was a low, menacing growl, his speech so heavily accented, it would have been hard to make out if he wasn't taking care to speak slowly and carefully.

"Now I don't care that you're some kinda hotshot commo specialist," he said, taking a step closer to Emilia. "I'm sure you put in all kinds of good work in that department, but that don't mean a Force damned thing out in the field. You ain't much of a field agent, and that's the Lord's own truth. If you were, you'd have your skinny ass in a hole somewhere, waiting for the heat to die down so you and your team could get off the frigging planet. Y'all all might as well pop those little blue pills right here and now if you got notions of trying to carry on. At least then it'll be quick and painless."

"And you," he said, whirling around to point a finger at Miss S. "You ought to know better than to encourage this sort of nonsense. I'm sure you're feeling some kinda way about sneaking into the palace and all, but this ain't the time and this ain't the place for your crap. Use that head of yours for something other than a hat rack. It don't matter what kind of tricks you've got up your sleeve. If you get that girl and her people killed, I'll make damn sure you burn if it's the last thing I do."

How he managed that speech with the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth the whole time was anyone's guess. The cherry bobbed up and down as he spoke, a steady stream of smoke leaking from his nostrils.

"I can't stop either one of you from going in there. Miss Ravel's the team lead, rank be damned. But I'd highly recommend getting your asses off the street and into cover. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to burn half the city down just so you have a chance of sneaking in. Prolly have to kill a couple thousand civilians to make it happen. That worth it to you?"

[member="The Major"] [member="Emilia Ravel"]

Madelyn Lowe · Sep 1, 2017

Up until that moment, Emilia had been afraid. She'd never really shook the nerves that had set in the day of the briefing on Bespin. She saw it clearly now. They saw her as weak, a joke. To them, she was a nobody officer, who didn't know what she was doing. A nervous wreck that couldn't stand up to a stiff breeze. Maybe some of that was true, but she'd be damned before some hyper-paranoid Station Chief derailed this mission.

"You're out of line, Dresden." She spat. "I'm not some pen pusher out on assignment for the first time. We have our orders, I've consulted command. We're hitting that palace, and we're doing it tonight. With, or without you. I understand your desire for caution, but you're risking the entire mission with this bickering." She was up in his face now. He stood an entire foot above her, tall and lanky. But her white-hot anger seemed to raise her above him. She was practically shaking.

Emilia stepped back and took in a shuddering breath, forcing herself to calm down, slowing her heart rate. 1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10... She looked back up at Dresden. "Think about it, we have a dead agent with a lullaby in her stomach, and a shuttle bristling with bombs. We need to make a move while we still have the advantage of surprise, and before the situation escalates."

She looked at the two agents pleadingly. "We will never get another chance like this. Never. In the next hour, RSF will discover the bombs, and the equipment in the shuttle. They've already found Agent Rosa's body, and its only a matter of time before a medical examiner gets to her. Not to mention she was carrying a forged palace access card. By tomorrow security on the palace will have increased tenfold, and it'll stay that way."

Running her hands through her hair, she looked between The Major and Dresden. The anger was fading now. They were capable agents, but by the Force they were skittish. She cleared her throat. "Right, I'm headed for the palaces East Wall. There's a section that's only covered by a single camera because of the crown of a nearby tree. That's where I'm going over." She turned away, already walking across the street. Special Agent Magnus followed her quietly.

As she walked away, she paused, and turned back to face the two agents. "Oh, and Dresden? Put out that cigarette. You can smoke when the job is done."

Dresden Verbrennung · Sep 1, 2017

Dresden's eyes grew distant, his face hard. His hand reached out and grabbed the shoulder of one [member="Emilia Ravel"] before she could walk away.

The team was in trouble. The mission to Dantooine had been a disaster from the word go. Nonetheless, the team lead, one Rachel Montague, had insisted they press on. She was a tall woman, with a burnt umber complexion and eyes the color of molten copper. She had an easy laugh, and the fastest draw he'd ever seen. She could make a pistol appear in her hand as if though by magic. It wasn't her eyes that kept him awake at night, nor the feel of her flesh pressed against his. It was her laugh, golden and bubbly, the way it lit up a room, sent shivers down his spine.

That laugh was the last thing he ever heard from her.

The infiltration team had been made on the way out. Most of the team was dead, or dying. Dresden watched the whole thing through the scope of his rifle. He was on overwatch. His rifle cracked against his shoulder again and again, each shot dropping one of the charging soldiers. Rachel was the last on her feet, a pistol in each hand. Her mad, joyful cackle crackled over the comms. They had never been in more danger, but she was having the time of her life.

And then, he appeared. Dresden never discovered the identity of the Force User that shoved a lightsaber into her back, through her heart, and out through her chest. One second, it looked like she was home free. The next second, he simply appeared out of thin air. Dresden couldn't see Rachel's face as she fell. Would never see her face again. As her heart stopped, the suicide device at the small of her back, the one Dresden had built, went off. The disruptor beam reduced her to ashes on the spot.

The echo of her laugh still rang in Dresden's ears.

Without thinking, Dresden pulled a white phosphorous grenade off of his vest, pulled the pin, and wrapped Agent Ravel's fingers around the spoon.

"Do it," he said, his voice a muted by a dull, aching wound in his soul. "If you're going to go through with this, the blood of everyone who burns tonight is on your hands. It's only fair you start the first fire."

There was no mistaking his tone. The former mercenary was deadly serious. If the grenade was thrown, he would allow the team to pass without incident. If not, they could either follow him to safety, or they would have to kill him. There was no way that Dresden was about to watch another team die on his watch. It wasn't like last time. He sure as hell wasn't in love with anyone going into that building this go round. That said, the only way they stood a chance of getting in was if everyone was too busy worrying about the city to focus on the palace.

That was, after all, part of the plan. It was also part of the plan that they abort if it looked like their chances had grown too slim. Which, of course, they had in his estimation. If they carried forward at this point, he had no choice but to follow through with the original distraction, faking a terrorist attack. If he was going to become a mass murderer, damned if he was going to be the only one.

But hopefully, the team would stand down. If he had handed the grenade to Miss S, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she'd chuck it. Probably find an orphanage or something. But Agent Ravel? He was betting she didn't have the stomach. Only one way to find out.

[member="The Major"] | [member="Adder"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Jamie Pyne"] | [member="Kiyron"] | [member="Isabella Fonti"]

Luther Lewis · Sep 2, 2017

It might have been mere minutes, but it felt like hours before the medical team arrived. They were a no-nonsense sort of group, immediately tending to the wounded. Captain Rodgers was with them. "The situation is being handed by Commander Braxton, who's in a much better position to decide what needs to be done". He hesitated before he said the next part. "Isabella, I appreciate the help you have given us-" Isabella interrupted him "But I'm an SIS agent poking my nose in where it doesn't belong. I understand, I'll make my way back to the palace". The Captain gave her a surprised look. "I was going to ask for your help again. Granted, your presence complicates things a little, but..." he gave her a sheepish look. "I only recently joined the RSF. I was a soldier before this, I'm not used to this cloak and dagger business". Isabella gave him a small smile. "I appreciate your candour, Captain. I'll investigate the site of the blaster shot on my way back to the palace. That way I can both help, and avoid pissing off your CO".

***

The Captain and a solitary medic accompanied her to the approximate position of the shot. She was grateful for the company. Her back was itching, expecting a blaster bolt between the shoulder blades. Fortunately, no shot came and they made it to the site unharmed. A few others had gathered around, making sure the area was secure. At the sight of a commanding officer, the guards snapped to attention. Rodgers received an update from one of them and approached Isabella. "Reports indicate there was a clash between a group of unknown assailants and a SIS agent named @Kiyron". Isabella raised her eyebrow at the mention of another agent. "Apparently there were two shots, though only a few of the guard heard both. We have a dead attacker around the corner". She nodded as she took in the information. "Right, let's review the evidence".

The first team had gathered a few pieces of metal shrapnel and, curiously enough, a silver lighter. She left it un-touched for forensics and moved onto the body. "Medic, we'll need a post-mortem". The medic nodded and donned surgical gloves. With practiced ease, she investigated the body. "She has a large blaster wound in her abdomen. I can't tell without an autopsy, but looks like it hit a lung". The captain grimaced. "Is that the probable cause of death?" The medic paused for a moment, frowned and shook her head. "The victim wasn't killed that long ago, her body hasn't undergone rigor mortis. But her face is very blue". She examined one of the arms. "There is bruising on this arm, very recent, hasn't had a chance to heal." The medic thought for a moment. "Looks like there was convulsions before death. That, and the cyanosis, suggests cerebral hypoxia as cause of death". Isabella shot a look to the Captain. "Sounds like Lullaby to me". The medic looked up, confused. "Lullaby?" Rodgers looked sick at the thought, so Isabella answered. "It's a suicide pill, causes almost instant brain death. Organizations all over the galaxy use it to silence field agents. It's pretty common-place, unfortunately".

The medic finished up by frisking the deceased's pockets. They found a standard issue blaster pistol, a decent forgery of a palace ID card and a container that likely held the Lullaby pill. Isabella cleared her throat. "Looks like they had the palace as their destination". The Captain's head snapped up and his eyes darkened. "You don't suppose the team is in the palace now?" Isabella shrugged. "Who knows? Most likely they scattered to the wind and found a rock to hide under. In either case we need to head back to the palace". She turned around and strode away. She was desperately trying to ignore the cold, dead, unblinking eyes that watched her leave.

| [member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Jamie Pyne"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Adder"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"] |

The Major · Sep 2, 2017

There are critical moments in life where one proves to be a hero. Such are the caliber of action that leads to song and legend. In other instances, we have the cowardly, selfish choices. Perhaps past experiences flash before one’s eyes —regrets and failures slashing into your core.

However, there are those ultimately humanizing moments, when the proverbial white phosphorus grenade was flying into your face.

What do you do?

You make a stupid looking face, and compliment it with a wince. The world appears to freeze as not even your brain functions. Like an idiotic slab of meat, you gape in awe at the fragility of both your existence and the universe around you. If you survive, these are one of those humiliating situations that you remember on a depressing night.

What did you do?

***

It was definitely a reaction sparked along the lines of reflexive practice. After all, there was danger just a foot away. The Major set out on this operation with one primary objective: monitor and record the actions of the First Order representatives. Helping them was secondary but still was a useful boon, like accruing useful credit for later use. Right now, right here, there were too many unknowns at play, and it was beyond her scope of expertise to fix the problem. Fallanassi were truly a skittish bunch: a trait inherited after generations of being hunted or sought for favors. Maybe Dresden and Emilia would resolve this and could continue on the mission or escape. Maybe they would kill each other on this very spot. Whatever the case, there was a bloody primed grenade involved. She wasn't going to burn here. And especially not literally.

Her hands go up as she backs away instinctively from danger. Take a wink or so later, and suddenly she was gone. Punch your hand in the spot where she was, and it would hit nothing but air. Neither footstep on cobble sounded, nor rush of air detected. These White Current followers were particularly effective in their craft because they specifically used illusions along with a technique known as Immersion to completely nullify their presence. Not even an echo of the person existed.

As something with a semblance known as thought started to flow back into the Major’s brain, she figured that it was best to leave them both to figure out their plights alone. And just in case they did both go up in flames, she could carry on the mission and bug the palace herself. Problem was, that she probably only had two or three more good illusions to tap into tonight before the powers and use of the Force wore her out completely.

[member="Emilia Ravel"] [member="Jamie Pyne"] [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] [member="Adder"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Isabella Fonti"]

Madelyn Lowe · Sep 2, 2017

He wasn't serious. Was he? Surely a highly trained station chief wouldn't press a live grenade into the team leader's hand. This would make two operations in a row where she'd been manhandled into using dangerous weaponry. Hopefully this wasn't the start of some sick streak.

Emilia stepped away from Dresden. The Major was nowhere to be seen. "I... You..." She stuttered, unable to find words to express the panic, the betrayal she was feeling. She'd been right about them. They didn't respect her, and they couldn't be trusted as far as she could throw them. She looked down at the safety lever, her knuckles were white, and she held on tight, not letting it shift even a millimetre. She looked up at the Station Chief. Fixing a cold stare at the tall demolitions expert. Every trace of fear had vanished now. Her legs shook, but her will was iron. Slowly, she raised the grenade.

"I want you to remember, Dresden, that you did this. This is your grenade, and it is with me because of your hands." Emilia swallowed hard. At the last moment she was struck with doubt. This was the wrong thing to do. Deep within herself, she objected to what was about to happen. It was despicable, perhaps even outright evil. Right as she was about to give in to her conscience, another voice piped up. This one she was very familiar with. It lurked in the dark corners of her mind, it whispered in her waking hours, and ruled her mind while she slept. Show them, Emilia. It said. Show them how strong you really are. Show Dresden. Emilia sighed deeply, and brushed aside a lock of Red hair with her free hand. "This one's on you, Dresden." Emilia took a step forward, hurling the grenade over her shoulder.

The grenade arced high over the Station Chief's head, sailing smoothly, and silently through the night. She wasn't the greatest at throwing, but the projectile stayed perfectly on target. The incendiary crashed into window of a house behind them, shattering it. The dull thud of the grenade landing inside was accompanied by the sound of tinkling glass. Three seconds later came the blast. A white hot flash, followed by a loud bang and a cascade of smoke. Already, the inside of the room was in flames, and there were shouts from inside the house.

Emilia turned away, and gestured over to the Special Agent, who'd quietly watched the encounter from behind Emilia. "We're leaving, Magnus!" She yelled, already running full pelt in the other direction. She sprinted for several blocks, eventually slipping into a side alley, and carefully navigating the quiet streets towards the back side of the palace.

Jamie Pyne · Sep 5, 2017

Location: Theed
[member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"]

The night air lit up like a Festival Of Glad Arrival fireworks display. The sound of glass shattering and a detonation tore through the silence. Dozens of lights from ground zero extending outwards for blocks turned on, curious and frightened souls staring out to see the plume of smoke rising into the atmosphere above the city. Those closest to the blast sent dozens of HoloCalls into emergency dispatch services. ComLines all over the city began to flood in. The twin story home set as the unfortunate target contained a family of five. The parents, asleep in the master bedroom on the first floor would never have the opportunity to save their three children, all of which lay quietly asleep as the grenade landed just feet from their beds. The explosion took them just as tiny groggy eyes opened to see what the commotion of breaking glass and soft thump on the floor was.

It was too late.

In the next breath they were gone. The screams of fear, panic, dread, and sorrow filled the home.

Location: Theed Palace
[member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Isabella Fonti"] | [member="Adder"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Kiyron"]

The sound of rolling thunder passed through the young queen's ears, yet there was no storm, no lightning, and no rain. Jamie tilted her head to the side, looking past Adder and up towards the large transparisteel windows above. Not a cloud in sight. For a breath she found herself lost in confusion, at first ignoring Adder's comment regarding the smugglers to debate against herself the source of that brief boom. "Did you hear that?" She asked, returning her azure gaze to Aela and Adder. "It sounded like thunder, but it's a clear night." Jamie had yet to even notice the rather large armored man standing before them now, bearing the symbols of the Omega Pyre, a protectorate nearly as old as she. As a child she had seen a few of their rank, but not in many years. Over time their presence had dwindled, as the Alliance retook the region from the interim government that proceeded the Pyre. Much of this had happened while she was just a youth, still quite learning the ins and outs of Naboo's planetary government.

The blonde craned her neck upwards to look at the armored soldier. "Hello?" While she recognized the symbol, she knew next to nothing of the man, what he wanted, or why he was there. "Protectorate?" It was the only word she could think to speak, given the set of circumstances at present. The situation was becoming rapidly complicated now. "Would someone care to explain what is going on?"

Aela Talith · Sep 5, 2017

[member="Isabella Fonti"] | [member="Adder"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Kiyron"] | [member="Jamie Pyne"]

What in the fuck was going on?

Aela of course recognized some of the people in the room, the large armored man, some of the agents, but other than that? Well it seemed like a small army had stormed the palace while they were standing here except that small army was on their side and...something was happening.

The Jedi Master frowned, then glanced at Jamie then at Adder and then to the different figures in the room. "Seconded."

Aela said as she pointed to Jamie and confirmed what she had just asked. What in the seven hells was actually happening right now? It seemed that everyone and their mother had decided to show up and crash the plans she'd had for her friends. Was this normal on Naboo? She knew there had been some troubles lately but this all seemed like a little bit much. A frown pulled at her lips, and her head cocked to the side as she tried to place the sound she'd just heard.

An attack? Maybe, but they needed an explanation before anything else.

Sarge Potteiger · Sep 5, 2017

"OmegaPyre" He explains, in response to both [member="Jamie Pyne"] and [member="Adder"]. Casually, he adjusted his grip on his rifle, pointedly maintaining trigger and barrel discipline for the moment, even though the peal of sound was already filtering through his helmet. Turning to look out the nearest window, he looked down to [member="Aela Talith"] and the Queen. "Explosion." He remarks, "The theoretical would place it as a grenade, but in a city like Theed the practical could be anything from a transformer going to someone's gas container lighting up."

Frowning beneath his helmet, he fought the urge to pace. "Assuming the theoretical is true - the flurry of comm traffic among your staff would suggest such - a high probability exists that Theed is under attack, or very soon about to be.

Assailants unknown at this time. I trust you are all ready to defend the Queen."

For all the more urgency he put in his voice, he may as well have been ordering his morning tea. "It is most certainly a good thing you are sober, Adder. Today is a good day to die."

Armand Temi · Sep 8, 2017

Rumor has it that the man had practically crawled into the headquarters of the FSOB on Dossun, emaciated, broken and barely able to stand. But he possessed a veritable trove of knowledge about the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium, stored on a data chip which he’d held out in a trembling palm. He was whisked off for medical attention, debriefing, possible deprogramming, all of which took nearly a year given the condition he’d arrived in. There were whispers of entrenchment, the worst kind where a living soul was fed a concoction of algae and cells in order to remain alive for years to power their military technology with the energy generated by his very own energy and blood. And then the scuttlebutt ceased, operations continued as normal, agents were assigned, prisoners disappeared… the usual.

**2 months later**

The Scarab-Class Corvette touched down upon a landing pad in a small spaceport near to the Theed Palace. A diplomat from neighboring Arbra named Ellor Tyrnith provided the proper credentials to customs and for all intents and purposes awaited a limo speeder to whisk him away to the palace.

He wasn’t sure where the FOSB agents were in the Operation Nightfall pipeline nor if they were alive. His orders were extraction.

He activated the hidden commlink which sat in his ear hidden by a lock of dark hair. “Agent Klev calling all personnel. Meet me at Waterfall Spaceport. You have three hours.” He tapped his chrono as he waited, smiling at the passing fellow foreign diplomats and Nabooian residents returning from vacations offworld. No one could tell that behind his dark hazel eyes, he turned over and over a small pocket of memories, much as someone would finger a piece of smooth sea glass, visions that would make sentient and empathetic beings blanch with fear or disgust.

OOC: Ezra is here to extract the FOSB. But feel free to engage with him.

Madelyn Lowe · Sep 9, 2017

9:34 pm, two-and-a-half hours after the beginning of Operation Nightfall.

Emilia was running headlong into a suicide mission, and she knew it. Every part of her body, down to her very core, was screaming for her to stop, for her to take a deep breath of the fresh night air. To really think about what she was doing, and turn around. She didn't though. Another part of her was in charge, and that voice said it was too late to go back, to make things right with Dresden and go home. She kept running, ducking around the trees and bushes that surrounded the outer wall of Theed palace. To the right of her, the faithful Special Agent Magnus followed a few steps behind.

Inside her, two sides fought for supremacy. On one side, her logical brain knew that the risks of the mission far outweighed the rewards, but at the same time this wasn't even about the mission anymore. This was about her. The burning sense of shame from her humiliation by the agents on Bespin had never faded, and ever since she'd been consumed with the desire to prove her worth. It was beyond sense, beyond reason. She would show them that she could do it. She wasn't some push-over that belonged behind a desk. She was an FOSB officer dammit.

Still, the reality of the situation was not lost on her. When she arrived at her point of entry; a section of wall covered by a tree, creating a partial blind spot to the palaces cameras, her stomach churned in fear. Teeth chattering, she tried to give a reassuring smile to Agent Magnus, but he appeared to have it together more than she did. Shakily, she pulled out a tech chip from her pocket. It was a handy jammer courtesy of The Major, and it would be enough to temporarily disable the nearby cameras for just long enough for her to climb over. Fancy tech did not distract her from the fact that she was about to climb into a hornets nest of hostile targets, and waltz around like she owned the place. The heat inside her that had been generated from her encounter with Dresden was fading. The thick smoke that billowed up from the rooftops a few blocks away filled her with guilt and dread. Her willpower was stretched thin, about to break. No longer could she hide under a guise of false confidence. She slumped down against a tree trunk, trying to get her breathing under control.

After a minute or so, she stood up. For what seemed like the millionth time she slowed her heart rate, concentrating on taking deep breaths. The night here was exceptionally quiet. The small woodland around the palace acted as an excellent buffer to the noise and bustle of the rest of Theed. Even at night the streets were quietly alive. Not here though. Here there was only the sound of the wind through the canopies. Emilia pulled out her communicator, sliding in The Major's chip. A moment later, a small light on the top of the device lit up green, signalling that the tech was working properly. Hopefully, the cameras covering the area around this segment of the wall had been jammed, causing a looped feed for a minute or so. Next, she motioned to Magnus, who stepped up to the wall, pulling a small grappling hook from his bag.

Clank! Emilia winced as the grapple struck loudly against the iron spikes that ran the length of the exterior wall. Magnus pulled on the rope, dragging the hook up and over the wall. It didn't catch, and Emilia turned away, running her hands through her hair. The grappling hook sailed over again, this time impacting with a dull thud as it struck the stone wall. When it was pulled up, it caught two prongs on the top of the railings, secure enough to climb. This was it, there was no backing out now. It was time to enter the palace.

Emilia clung to the rope, slowly working her way up with her arms and thighs. The wall was too slippery for her boots to grip onto, so it was hard work. After a short while, she reached the spiked railing, carefully navigating herself over, and dropped silently into the garden below, straight into a bush. She stood up, brushing dirt and leaves from her dark clothes. She craned her neck towards the top of the wall, where Special Agent Magnus was still climbing over.

Her worst fears were realised when she heard a yell. "Halt! Stop right there!" Emilia spun around to see a TCPU operative running towards them, blaster already in hand. She ducked down, scrabbling to grab her DC-17. Above her, Magnus pulled out his blaster, but was scarcely able to raise his arm before the TCPU had fired three shots to his chest. He fell forward, already dead, and slammed hard into the ground next to Emilia. She stood up, whipping out her pistol from her bag and fired two shots wildly at the TCPU operative. Both went far off target, almost half a metre to the left and much too high. She stumbled backwards, pressing her back against the wall of the complex. She was trapped.

Helpless, she watched the man raise his blaster rifle. It must have happened over an instant, but, much like in the alley, time seemed to stretch endlessly. She saw the whites of his eyes, the quiet concentration and determination on his face. He was a soldier, she was not. She realised that now, she belonged on her ship, analysing messages, breaking codes. If she could go back, she'd have been more careful, and taken Dresden's advice. Now, it was too late, far too late.

The shot left the man's blaster, the red plasma crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. It struck Emilia in the side, and she was slammed against the wall once again, transforming her world into one made purely of noise and pain.

Kiyron · Sep 10, 2017

"Commander," Kiyron said as he strode into the RSF commander's office, giving a quick salute as he entered, although it was hardly orthodox, as he was partially in and partially out of his armor, with the helmet clutched in his other arm. "I hope you have been informed about the seriousness of the situation. "

He paused to finish strapping on the last of the armor, with just the helmet still held in hand. "Team of individuals were clearly scouting the palace, disguised as cleaners. And shot me." He shrugged at the last one. "I think you know what that means."

Not far away, an explosion rumbled through the night, accompanied by screams, and after a moment, sirens. Kiyron tilted his head, listening. "I am not here on official business or with authorization." A faint smile flickered across his face. "Actually here for a funeral. With your permission, I would like to assist you in the operation to sort this out. You will find my record and expertise in this area quite helpful."

He slid a small data pad out of his pocket and offered it to the commander. Kiyron had to respect the woman who had shot him. She had guts and steel in her spine. That was something special. And he didn't know who she worked for, but she was wasting her time with them. If she made it through alive... He fingered a playing card and tucked into a pouch on his armor. She would have some decisions to make. And he had been young once, new to their line of work. It was brutal. He had looked up to anyone who had survived longer than he had.

Luther Lewis · Sep 10, 2017

Isabella had a pounding headache. "I think that is enough excitement for one night" she complained. She wasn't sure what spooked her more, the intricate web of traps left behind or the ellusive owners of said artifices. Captain Rodgers walked next to her, accompanying her towards the palace. He was frowning hard, so hard that Isabella was worried he'd permanently furrow his brow. "What are you doing?" she said with an exasperated sigh. "Thinking" he replied. "A dangerous pass-time". He ignored the jibe and looked at her. "Doesn't something seem off with this whole situation?" He had somehow managed to deepen his frown and risked spilting his face in two.

Isabella's first instinct was to mock his paranoia but something nagged at the back of her mind. She hesitated before saying "I agree, something doesn't make sense. The set up at the shuttle, the lack of evidence on the body and the lullaby pill, they all point towards an organised movement. But the mines were shoddy, they were made of nails. They also abandoned one of their comrades. Not sure about you, but that strikes me as the work of amateurs". Rodgers nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

The sound of an explosion cut through the quiet of the night. Her head snapped to her left as a column of roaring flame rose into the night sky. She sat there in stunned silence, staring at the blazing inferno. The Captain wasted no time, ordering his troops to call in the emergency and to gather fire-fighting equipment. He said something to her, but she just sat there staring until he grabbed her by the shoulders. She could see the flames reflected in his eyes. The throbbing in her head subsided a little and she started listening to the Captain. "- and my crew will help with the fire. You make your way back to the palace and let them know what is going on". She nodded dumbly and shuffled off.

Some small part of her was saying she was in shock. Something had broken in her head and a thick fog had settled upon her mind. A thought cut across her mind, sharp as a knife. 'Get to the palace, find help' it said. She held onto it dearly, even as it cut her mind apart. She broke off into a sprint towards the palace.

[member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="The Major"] |[member="Kiyron"] | [member="Jamie Pyne"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Adder"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Ezra Klev"]

The Major · Sep 13, 2017

Once again this evening someone had to rely on close quarter combat techniques to neutralize an opponent, and once again this was a result blaster shots being exchanged openly without a regard to the delicate nature of the operation. Immersed and invisible by the aid of the White Current, the Fallanassi stalked her team members like a mantis -quickening her pace over the wall when she heard a guard issue a challenge. A moment later plasma pops echoed. . .

By Lady Maria, this was cursed! [member="Emilia Ravel"] was cursed.

Subtlety was now again a non-issue, and the Major inelegantly thud-rolled on the other side of the wall and sprinted to the source of fire. Turning a corner revealed the gruesome flesh and cloth singing scene. The TCPU guard was facing away, bearing down to either finish off or further inspect Emilia. Our Four-eyed freakshow of an FOSB agent sprung to action, causing the illusion wear off. Noise cover always went first, and the guard would now hear the telltale “klomp-klomp” of boots hitting the pavement. He turned, but not quickly enough.

From Emilia’s perspective black clad limbs would appear to materialize from a void. Grasping unto the guard, he writhes but his legs lose balance as they are swept out from under him. An arm wraps about his neck, and suddenly he is slammed backwards -both his blaster and helmet bouncing away as his head careens into the pavement. The resounding yelp and crunch sounded worse than it was, for the guard was only knocked out.

Now the Fallanassi completely melted into visible reality, frowning deeply at yet another dead agent. At first she thought Officer Ravel to be dead as well, until the red-headed disaster on a pair of legs stirred while pinned to the wall. The Major closed the distance swiftly.

“Move your hands from the wound, please.” Now by no means was the operative a certified doctor, but almost all field agents of Bureau had at least some training in first aid -specifically for combat sustained injuries. Fortunately she had kit with necessary pain killing medicine and bacta patches. “Listen to me carefully. . .” Her voice was tender as she carefully applied a large bandage over the wound.

“You’re a liability. And now you’re wounded. Return to the evac shuttle.” She placed one of her hands upon the shoulder of the op. Leader. “I’ll finish the mission. Are we clear?” For some reason despite the calm voice, empathic expression, and gentle reaffirmation of her left hand, her right hand was poised to flick out and grip upon a long blade hidden within her sleeve. Why, it was the same she had used to stab that police officer earlier.

Dresden Verbrennung · Sep 13, 2017

It was all Dresden could do not to vomit as the screams beckoned from the flame scorched building.

He knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that Agent Ravil would return the grenade to him. She simply didn't have it in her to be a murderer. Oh, sure, she could kill an enemy. Just about anyone could, under the right circumstances. But he didn't think she had it in her to throw that grenade, not for one single second.

But she had. And he had given it to her.

The bile rose in his throat, threatening to send him retching onto the sidewalk. The former mercenary fought hard to swallow it down. It was a near thing, but finally, he succeeded.

There was a job to do. There was time to contemplate the blood on his hands later.

It wasn't like he didn't know that people would die for this distraction. Despite what Dresden had told her, he had planned to put mostly empty buildings to the torch. There were always night crews, usually janitors or what have you, and you could never really know how a fire would spread. The estimated death toll for this contingency was between 20-40, all total. Theed wasn't a city easily burned, after all, and even in what passed for slums, all the white phosphorus in the world wouldn't cause the sort of blaze that would have turned, say, Nar Shadda, into an abattoir.

He tried not to think about the fact that there were at least that many people in that one building, and instead, took off towards the spaceport on foot. The gun and tac vest went into a dumpster; they would do more harm than good at this point. If something went wrong, the dagger strapped to his forearm and the small slugthrower at the small of his back would have to do.

He wasn't trying to be sneaky. Sticking to the shadows was asking for some security type to get suspicious. Instead, he moved quickly, and with a purpose. In a time of crisis, a man who clearly knew what he was doing was rarely stopped for questioning, especially if the crisis in question wasn't known to be the result of enemy action. No one would expect enemy agents here, in Theed. That was absurd.

Well, the security forces and police might, if they were the suspicious type, but Dresden was careful with his route. He couldn't be sure that no one would spot him, but certain routes, certain conditions, things like alleys and streets with poor lighting, they naturally appealed to the suspicious nature of law enforcement. A criminal on the run tended to think like a rat, staying out of sight and avoiding crowded areas.

What they didn't do was walk right into a crowd of partygoers and join in the fun. It was a long shot, but if he was very, very lucky, he could get close to a data port.

[member="Emilia Ravel"] [member="The Major"] [member="Jamie Pyne"]

Madelyn Lowe · Sep 15, 2017

Emilia writhed in agony, pain shot across her body from the wound in her side like white-hot lightning. The force of the shot had slammed her into the wall, and she lay slumped against it, head lolling, her brain like putty. Beside her, about a foot away, was the body of Magnus. He lay there peacefully, at least his end had been quick. Emilia's ears were ringing, and her eyes swam will tears, her mind was dulled. Occasionally, dim thoughts swam through the waves of pain, but were drowned out by her suffering. She sobbed wretchedly, clutching at her side. In the corner of her mind, she realised she was forgetting to something.

Slowly, her brain began to kick back into gear. Hot tears streamed down her face, and her shirt was already drenched with blood. Slowly she turned her head, and realising what it was she'd forgotten: The TCPU officer. The man walked purposefully towards her, his gun didn't waver for a second. This man was prepared to kill her. He'd just proved that. Emilia's fingers scrabbled in the dirt, reaching for a blaster, a knife, anything that she could use to defend herself. But it was no use, her brain was fuzzy, her fingers wouldn't obey her. She looked up at the soldier, trying to stare up in defiance. Then he turned away.

Maybe it was that she'd just been shot, but it seemed to Emilia that [member="The Major"] had just stepped out of thin air. The bespectacled woman had materialized a few metres from the TCPU, already at a full sprint. Emilia blinked in shock as the Supervisory Special Agent ruthlessly rammed into the officer, slamming his head into the ground and knocking him unconscious. I am hallucinating, surely. She thought. I'm just going to lay here and wait for death. She closed her eyes, waiting for a moment before opening them once again, sighing resignedly. The Major crouched next to her, and pulled out a first-aid kit. Her touch felt very real, and the pain of the antiseptic certainly was. This was, in fact, not a hallucination, she decided.

The Major delivered her usual abuse as she worked, and Emilia took it all in, trying to distract herself from the waves of pain that racked her body. Dutifully, she removed her hands from her wound allowing the other agent to work her magic. It seemed to Emilia that maybe the Agent had a heart somewhere within her cold exterior, but, then again, maybe it was just in her best interests not to kill Emilia then and there.

As The Major applied the last of the bandages around the bacta strips, Emilia bit hard into her arm, burying the tortured scream born from having the cloth rasp against her ravaged flesh. Shaking, she sat up, nodding along as The Major advised, no, ordered her to exfiltrate. Emilia looked at the woman, wiping heavy beads of sweat from her brow. "I agree we have to extract, and I'm in no position to continue the mission, but..." She paused, her vision swimming. "We need to get away from here, there will be more security forces on their way. We'll be overwhelmed."

With assistance from The Major and the palace wall, Emilia stood up, gasping, and almost blacking out several times. She leaned heavily on the other woman for support. Groaning, she indicated towards a small access door to the rear of the Theed palace proper. "In there, we can hide out while we think of a plan." She pointed to the unconscious TCPU. "He'll have a keycard."

In a matter of moments, they were inside a small drawing room. Comfortable chairs lined a large fireplace, and in the back was a cart full of glasses and bottles of expensive liquor. Emilia staggered into one of the chairs. The exertion of moving from the garden had ruined her, and she hovered on the edge of consciousness, black spots dancing on the edge of her vision.

Jamie Pyne · Sep 16, 2017

Left hand raised, gently massaging her temple, eyes looking down at the gentle marble coloring of the palace floor. "No rest for the weary, it would seem." The words were spoken softly, almost a whisper. Just how many times would terrorists lash out at one of the galaxy's most vibrant beacon of freedom and democracy? And for what purpose was their aim this time? To shake the populace into panic and alarm? To send a statement to the Alliance? The monarchy? The more the armored Pyre soldier spoke, the more her concerns raised, though her appearance notably soured at the mention of being defended as if she were some sort of helpless damsel that needed to be whisked away from the sight of a wayward blaster bolt.

"While I admire your concern, if Theed is to be attacked, I will not sit idly and watch my home burn."

Her gaze drifted from the rather large man to Aela and Adder, "It looks like your plans have to wait this time." Raising her comlink she first radioed for the commanding Jedi Knight of the TCPU. "Sigrunn, something is going on within the city and potentially aimed towards the palace. Signs are beginning to point to an attack of some sort. I would ask that you gather all TCPU officers and Jedi. Begin a systematic sweep of the palace and perimeter." Several seconds of silence passed before the aged Jedi Knight would respond. "Acknowledged." Jamie's second radio would be to Commander Braxton of Theed Security. Before Jamie had even a moment to initiate dialog the officer already began to speak, knowing what the call was about. "Lady Pyne, I already have teams assigned to retrieve and impound the unauthorized vessel. I'm aware of the shots fired in the city. An agent of the SIS was wounded in the altercation and is here for questioning of the incident. Furthermore, there was an explosion that is likely connected to these incidents that occurred nearby the palace. Civilian casualties are likely but are being assessed. A team has been dispatched and all officers, both on and off duty are being summoned. Starport authority has been notified that any outgoing vessels are to be held for additional inspection by TPCU senior officers."

"Understood. Thank you." It seemed she had little need of adding any further comment to the commander's words. He was well seasoned and a veteran. He knew what he was doing and Jamie had full confidence in him.

Azure eyes lifted, drifting between Aela, Adder, and Sarge.

"Let's not waste time. The four of us are more capable of covering the palace faster if we each take one wing. I will organize my efforts in the northern wing as that is my personal chambers, as well as my handmaidens."

[member="Kiyron"] | [member="Adder"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="Lancer Damar"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Isabella Fonti"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

Aela Talith · Sep 16, 2017

[member="Isabella Fonti"] | [member="Adder"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Kiyron"] | [member="Jamie Pyne"]

She felt more annoyed than she had a few minutes ago.

It seemed that something was indeed going on here on Naboo, and that meant the night she had planned was more than ruined by whatever it was. She couldn’t help but scowl slightly as Jamie spoke, mostly because this was starting to get on her nerves.

Aela was beginning to think that every time she wanted to to something fun there was something that would always stand in her way. Perhaps the galaxy was playing a trick on her, perhaps the Force was trying to test her, or maybe...just maybe everything didn’t want to go her way. The Jedi master scowled slightly and turned away from Jamie and the small group, her fingers wrapping around the lightsaber she had brought. ”Fine.”

The Jedi Master said almost indignantly.

”Let’s go find whoever has made their way into the palace.” She waved her hands in a rather annoyed fashion. It wasn’t enough that someone had come here to disrupt their night, no, those people had to hurt innocents as well. Her blood was boiling. ”I hope your prison cells are extremely uncomfortable.”

The lightsaber was plucked from it’s holster on her thigh and shot shot Jamie a look of discontent. ”I need someone to come with me.”

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