Planting the Seeds

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske felt her chin firming at the indignation of [member="Deacon"]. While it was a totally normal reaction for someone who was unacquainted with her, and by extension, Frank, it was still frustrating. She began to mentally prepare her entrance to the chop shop before the pirate acquiesced to help her out.

"Oh, great!" Loske revealed gleefully, moving to side with him and taking a blatant step backward when he indicated he would not just help her out, but take the lead. She'd come in just after the coast was clear? What was that? They didn't have an established signal. Would he hoot? Poke his head outside and give her a wave? While these thoughts started to cumulate, sounds emitted from inside the shop and Loske peeked inside through the grime on the doorway. The grunts permeating from indoors only gave way to silhouetted movements, that she couldn't quite make out - but she could easily surmise that this was not a handshaking introduction. Unable to contain her curiosity, nor her patience (Frank was in there, alone!), she pushed the door aside and strode in, a hand reaching defensively to the firearm strapped to her upper thigh.

Turns out that was unnecessary. She drank the scene in a handful of seconds. Carbonite?! Steam, smoke..a light..She'd never seen technology like that - that could make someone so fluid in motion immobile for...ever? How long would they be like that? Bewildered at the sight, she almost forgot her objective, but at the comment to hurry it up, she nodded and jaunted to the back.

Hey! Frank's voice was detectable What's going on out there? Doesn't sound very soothing.

"Are you kidding?" Loske rebuttled, tracing over to the droid in restraints and kneeling down to wrap her arms around what would have been the bulk of his body. She quickly fretted about his pockets. "There's nothing soothing about this place."

What? I'm all set up for my steam. They hook me up, roll me through -- Woah woah, don't go inside!

She didn't respond, too focused on ensuring the technology behind his brain was still intact. After a quick scan, she breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn't have to explain anything to Kaili. Fewf! She untethered the restraints after some effort, opting to shoot one of them off instead of using strength that didn't exist to pry them open. Light eyes took the opportunity to look around the back of the shoppe, identifying if this person was really a helpful soul or a liar and interrupting this spa's day to settle some sort of personal vendetta. It didn't take long for her to confirm, looking at the strewn about bits and bites across the back floor. Most of the tools in the back looked more macabre than therapeutic. She let out a low hmmm before turning and the large astromech following behind her.

"Thank you for your help, I owe you a...drink. At least"

The fellow who had reeked of booze seemed to be enjoying drags of cigarra. She walked near to one of the figures that looked to be in mid sprint, the expression of the individual twisted in angry knolls across their face - sinews between their muscles activated and then frozen in a detailed statue that would impress most artists.

She lifted her knuckles to rap against the one's cheek.

"What did you do to these guys? I've never seen anything like this before."

[member="Kimora Min"] / [member="Djorn Bline"] / [member="Agent Wendigo"] / [member="Neri Rashal"] / [member="Jorryn Fordyce"] / [member="Servant"] / [member="Anden Fancelo"] / [member="Peyton Steele"]​

 

[Peyton Steele]

She was good at keeping an eye on things. She wanted to be the frontline agent, but what she was capable of put her in other places. Watching, and listening, she was sipping on her drink. A few familiar faces, more than she surmised would be here, but that wasn’t bad. Friendly Blue, Red Blade, the latter of which she wasn’t going to approach unless he came at her, no need to blow up his spot. Who knew what he was doing.

Operating in the Underground, maybe he was a bit further in the ranks than she figured. Wasn’t for her to really decide, she didn’t run the Underground, that was for another.

And Garn, one of the leaders within ORION, and she could recall somewhere in his file that he was Underground, same as Starchaser, same as Merrill. Many of the leaders of the Alliance, the Coalition, the Silvers, had been or still were. Would be interesting to link with her unit, and see what Red Blade was up to, but Peyton was focusing on her own tasks.

She wasn’t sure what to expect when the R2 unit rolled itself in but she nodded just the same, paying attention to the crowd. Her gear was logging everyone in. She could feel the blaster against his side and grinned. If needed, she’d waste no time, and require very little time to get it free and activated. She was just listening.

Just needed the reason to move.

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

The Echani's grin fell away after long enough without an answer, slight irritation coming across her as [member="Agent Wendigo"] refused to let the Inquisitor toy with him. This would be a long and dreary day. Jorryn already had to deal with the indignation of being dressed like spacer trash, but now she was stuck in the buddy system with a rock.

"I suppose silence has it's virtues..."

It was almost impossible to tell anything from the dark blob that Wendigo became with the karking contacts that she was forced to wear, so much so that Jorryn almost ran into him when he stopped to stare at something in the distance. It took the Echani a second to find what his eyes had been staring at, the darkness concealing both her bodyguard's line of sight as well as whatever he looked at.

Her stomach fell as she saw a glint of light reflecting off a lens.

Kark

The Inquisitor was unable to understand why her partner was staring right back at it, perhaps he wanted to signify them as characters of interest. Still, the lack of communication frustrated the Echani, but there was no way to avoid it noticing the armoured figure stare back at it. So subtlety seemed to be out the damn window, hopefully there wouldn't be a chance to regret it.

And so Jorryn had to think like stupid spacer trash to appear as stupid spacer trash and just waved at the camera, a massive dumb grin on her face. Part of her wanted a blaster to gun her down right then.

Hopefully this play was the correct one, attention could be valuable if they were able to play it off right. Jorryn's mind ran through scenarios they could go through, finding reasons to explain why some spacer and a heavily armed bodyguard were wandering around. Maybe she was a spacer princess and Wendigo her charge, or some young pirate had managed to get her hands on something valuable and was looking to trade it in.

Either way it seemed like they wouldn't be able to avoid attention now.

"Keep moving agent, they'll have to come to us now." A hefty amount of irritation was plain in her voice, still hating this mission in it's entirety. "And if it comes to talking, just follow my lead. Simple as that."

At least she didn't have to blend in anymore.

[member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Agent Wendigo"] | [member="Djorn Bline"] | [member="Anden Fancelo"] | [member="Servant"] | [member="Kimora Min"] | [member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Veino Garn"] | [member="Neri Rashal"]​

 

[Servant]

Those who intended to hide their criminal intentions often attempted to avoid any form of supervision, whether that came in the form of nearby persons who might eavesdrop upon their plans, or from inhuman video cameras linked upon the corners of prominent localities. After all, should their criminal misdeeds be discovered, they would face the judgement of whatever judicial body held jurisdiction. Thus, it was not altogether uncommon for persons who were innocent to occasionally look towards the artificial eyes which served as their protectors, nor even for youth to wave at them.

It was uncommon for fully-grown adults and brutish spacers to attempt a similar action, however, and the glare of one of the newcomers was enough to catch a greater portion of the Intelligence's attention; it could multi-task in a way that organics could only dream about, but that also meant less of its functions were devoted to each problem at once, allowing for a greater width of issues to be resolved, but with lesser intensity than would be brought by organic counterparts.

Regardless of the reasons behind why the foreign elements had decided to gaze into the machine's hijacked surveillance system, they had managed to curate a curiosity as to their true purpose upon the station. While an organic's eye might have narrowed in suspicion and caution, the Intelligence simply continued its vigil, other cameras within the general area gently spinning upon their limited arms to look towards the heavily-armed newcomer ([member="Agent Wendigo"]) and its female companion ([member="Jorryn Fordyce"]).

The Intelligence was not constructed for the purpose of speculation, and so it did not bother trying to devise a reason behind the behavior of the two entities entirely based on a single action, instead choosing to continue surveillance, though no attempts were made to conceal this action. Elsewhere upon the station, other cameras would begin to lock upon other members of the freighter's crew, their faces acknowledged from their first arrival. ([member="Djorn Bline"]) ([member="Kimora Min"]) ([member="Anden Fancelo"])

The machine entity recognized that the organics likely possessed communication devices of their own, linked into private channels to allow for conversation exclusively with members of their motley crew, though, it was unable to acquire access to these comm-systems until they had been utilized, and their exact signals deciphered. Until a member of the freighter crew utilized their comms, they were quite safe from infiltration by the Intelligence, but any breach in this silence would allow for the insidious viral infection of the artificial personage.

Elsewhere, a subtle message was sent to station security, alerting them to an altercation of unknown sorts occurring nearby to a supposed "droid spa". It was difficult to determine the exact nature of the conflict which had broken out within the backrooms of the facility, but there was little doubt that the Red Blade ([member="Deacon"] ) had trespassed into the premises, and thus there was a high percentage that he was attempting some form of robbery upon the establishment. His companion ([member="Loske Matson"]) was unknown to the machine mind, but their disappearance into the backrooms of the spa indicated their guilt.

While station security were certainly not its playthings, they had gradually and begrudgingly grown to recognize that the strange parasite which had chewed its way into their electronic systems was at least nominally on the side of 'good', and was primarily reporting only criminal offenses. Certainly, they were still trying to flush the thing out of their computers wherever possible, but it was slow-going given the disposition of the slicer to rapidly change tactics multiple times throughout the week, and so, until Technical had managed to get the intruder under wraps, they were privy to a degree of control not usually available on the station, unbeholden to, but benefiting greatly from the incursion.

The Intelligence didn't doubt that they would arrive shortly, and ensure the safety of the innocent at the scene.

Programs Used/Processing Unit Cost:

Spoiler

• Biological Diagnostic - 3 PU
• Host Control (R2 Unit) - 10 PU
• Aggressive Virus Dispatch (Wireless) - 10 PU
• Universal Translator - 2 PU
• System Control (Security Cameras) - 1 PU
• System Control (Peyton's Comms) - 1 PU
• Moderate Defensive Systems - 4 PU
• Mechanical Diagnostic - 3 PU

Remaining PU - 16

 

[Veino Garn]

Still, something wasn't quite right. He could sense it. There were disturbances and ripples in the Force that set him on edge as he prowled through the station. There was always darkness in the shadowports. It clung to the corners of such stations where survival and fear ruled. Criminals lurked and their malice drew the Dark to them. But this was something else. Something, or someone, carried the Dark within.

He slipped through the crowds, trying to pin down the location of what he was sensing. It was dispersed and hard to track among the continually shifting crowds of people, but every now and then, he could feel a spike of emotion. Nothing truly Dark, but more normal. Frustration? Excitement? His empathic abilities were keen, but that didn't mean emotions were specific. Without the contextual clues, there was no way to know what exactly someone else was feeling.

But he stopped in surprise as someone waved at a security camera. That was unusual. Partially that it actually functioned and even more so that somebody would wave at it. He let himself be pushed by the surging crowds of people back against the wall, where he leaned against it and watched the movements of the crowd, just barely keeping the two in his vision. There was something odd about the woman.

He sensed something from her, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.

@Servant @Jorryn Fordyce [member="Peyton Steele"]

 

[Djorn Bline]

Looks like Anden would have to enjoy a walk around the space station all to himself as Djorn acknowledged Kim’s presence near him. While it may be wrong to have one of them by themselves in the unknown waters Bline trusted that the man could handle himself in these tides. He was skilled and talented in his line of work, similar to what Djorn does on a regular basis in the Saaraishash. Every member on this team was experienced enough to tackle this assignment...even Jorryn, although Djorn would never mention with his mouth. Wouldn’t want to make that insufferable Echani feel validated or have some sense of pride.

The two operatives browsed through whatever mysteries the merchant at this...second rated shop offered to sell. There were some rather unique products that caught Djorn’s eyes that was alien to the advanced technology the Empire offered to its personnel. There was also junk being sold, something that disgusted him. Might as well put a hand for sale if that was the case. It showed how desperate the merchant was to scrap whatever credits they could get from their patrons. Djorn was also skeptical of the quality of some of the goods in the catalog that presented itself to be in great conditions, but it was probably just an illusion to sell of to some poor, ignorant customer.

”See anything good, Kimmy?” the High Inquisitor asked to his compatriot as his eyes spotted some weaponry and personal defense products he seemed to have an interest of. He was not really tech savvy or adept in using material that was an oddity to him unlike Kimora. She was proficient in manipulating software and the likes from whatever piece of hardware there was available. It made him relax a bit that there was a slicer on his team.

And then he heard commotion.

Some of the patrons dropped whatever they had and began to leave the immediate area; some were pretty brave in stealing whatever it was they had on their personal with the merchant unable to stop the thievery. It’s what happens when one is foolish to live in such miserable place with no order to protect its citizens.

So far no one else from his team was near what was going on besides him and Kimora. Was it worth checking out? Or be indifferent and continue his business. It was much safer to opt the latter, but maybe he’d find the so called “rogue heroics” at the droid spa. So far security, if there was any, hadn’t arrived. He doubt the security here was efficient and allowed crime to lurk at every corner without challenge on the station.

”Let’s give it a look, make sure your blaster is at the ready,” and led them towards the entrance of the droid spa, his blaster pistol at the ready in case they’d find someone aiming at them. Hopefully this would add well into their “rebel scum” disguise.

[member="Loske Matson"] [member="Deacon"] [member="Kimora Min"]

 

[Kimora Min]

Kimora continued looking about the storefront until Djorn had called out her name. Instantly, her attention shifted to him. "Hm? A little here and there. Nothing too special, but, with a little handiwork I could make something work." She didn't say anything to him calling her Kimmy. That was more reserved for close friends and family. She hadn't considered them close friends, or friends at all really. This was only her second mission working alongside the High Inquisitor. She just let that one slide this time.

"There's this little-" She cut herself off at the sounds of commotion nearby.

"Trouble?" Kimora reached beneath her poncho and removed one of her blasters from it's holster and followed behind Djorn. As they approached the droid spa, Kim kept an eye out for any approaching trouble. She refused to let anything sneak up on her and the High Inquisitor. "I got your back."

[member="Djorn Bline"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Deacon"]​

 

[Fulcrum]

"Hmm? Oh, these guys?" the pirate glanced laconically over at his handiwork, "They'll be fine. Just need a little time to..."

[member="Loske Matson"] poked at one with her knuckles, and it tumbled over onto its arm. The limb shattered into several pieces.

"...thaw."

Deacon waggled his carbonite gun at the pilot by way of explanation. An alert flashed across his augmented overlay, station security was on their way. That was considerably quicker than their usual response time, and the fulcrum agent knew that could only mean one person was to blame. [member="Servant"]. The kriffing droid or whatever the hell it was could be a very useful asset but there were just as many times the two found themselves at odds with each other. He was remarkably dispassionate about the machine's betrayals, a factor that he believed made him preferable to deal with over other life forms.

Of course, he gave as good as he got. Swooping off the counter top, he paused at a nearby scomp link and plugged in a data spike loaded with malware. Nothing that could endanger the AI, but it would briefly interfere with Servant's omniscience and Deacon knew how much it valued being informed at all times.

"You get the credits?" he called over his shoulder at Loske who was still fussing over her droid, "Cause we've got company."

Producing an arc light blaster as if from thin air, the pirate captain leaned out of the store front and sent a concussive ion blast screaming in the general direction of [member="Djorn Bline"].

"Back off, you jackals!" Red Blade roared loud enough that he could be heard just outside the spa, "This is our score!"

[member="Kimora Min"]​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Mood​

Her hand zipped to cover her mouth when the organic human splintered into nothing but shards. Crimson glittered amidst the ice and she felt terrible that person would wake up with less arms than they’d started the day with. Azure orbs widened and she flicked a nervous glance toward [member="Deacon"], who was already a blur of motion and motive.

“The what?” Loske asked, poking up from Frank who’d pulled schematics of the space. Something about credits? She was just here to get Frank. In an instant, her face paled at the realization of the potentially crooked reality she’d just acquiesced to.

Uh oh.


“I just got Frank, I’m not robbing these sleazies…. Or..are you..” He confirmed he was indeed planning on robbing these spa people when he leaned out the door and blasted into the ether with a dominating bellow. She supposed he was a pirate, it would make sense that would be his motivation. Where would someone even begin to take credits from? She supposed the credits register, but still..that felt quite slimy. Her ethical dilemma was interrupted by the burst of energy from the weapon the pirate fired.

"Ah, of course you are. Woah HEY! We're shooting again!?"

Oh jeeze.

Feeling as if she herself were laden in carbonite, she took a step backward as Frank projected the shop’s layout in a blue, glowing augmented map. “There’s an exit in the back..”

[member="Deacon"] / [member="Kimora Min"] / [member="Djorn Bline"] ​

 

[Agent Wendigo]

[member="Jorryn Fordyce"]​

Truth be told, the Agent's reasoning for staring at the security camera was a secret that wasn't going to be revealed.

Wendigo had been staring for several moments, watching the camera to observe its movements and try to draw a pattern on just who it was watching; any signs that the cameras were watching exclusively him and his assigned temporary partner or if it were simply taking note on everyone who walked into its arc of vision. Sure, perhaps this was a sure-fire way to make one seem suspicious but with how many people from all walks of life no doubt made their way to the lawless station, would they really stick out as much in comparison to a place within the territories of another hostile faction? Only time would tell. All that the Agent knew for sure was that out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Sith start waving and grinning at the surveilance like a damned idiot-- At any other time, Wendigo likely would have questioned this but instead? He understood exactly what the Sith was doing, attempting to act just as dumb as the crowds that surrounded them.

It was hard to tell if the security system was automated or if there was a control room full of Coalition personnel watching the population's every move. If Wendigo could at least figure it out, he'd have the potential to outsmart it. For now? The Agent had to remain patient and observant; not only for the station's security but also the crowds of people who he and the Sith had begun their infiltration into. To the sea of faces he was no Agent, he was a bodyguard. A hired gun paid to ensure that anyone who sought to touch his employer wouldn't live to regret their decision.

Simple work for a simple man.

And so the Agent lowered his gaze from the camera and simply gave a nod and fell in behind the Sith, maintaing a silent vigil and a watchful eye for anyone who might have come looking for trouble.

 

[Djorn Bline]

As much as he disguised himself as spacer scum his reflexes took over in how to respond this situation, all thanks to many years of military experience whether it was on the field or training. Djorn approaches towards the door carefully, pistol gripped in his hand while taking notice of his surroundings, although most of his focused targeted on what lay ahead of him and Kimora. People were distancing themselves from the area either retreating to a safe space (if there is one to begin with) or to witness the events unfolding; those that did the latter watched in confusion as to why Djorn and Kimora approached the droid spa. Perhaps they speculated they were undercover security agents belonging to the space station and just doing their job. It was the most firm theory they could conjure up based on what was going on. A strong theory to play off by, that is until it wasn’t bought by those in actual security.

The front door of the spa opened, the High Inquisitor raising his blaster pistol somewhat from his waist not actually in intent to aim. No reason into be hostile against an unknown person that hasn’t offered the first strike. Perhaps they were fleeing whatever commotion was happening inside. Maybe a droid malfunctioned and caused a scene, a violent scene that is.

But those thoughts went away as someone from the other side pulled out a pistol and fired. A quick somersault to his left to avoid the blast from the arc blaster, positioning himself to have his pistol aimed at the general direction from the attack and fire his own rounds. They weren’t accurate shots as their marks hit the convenient cover of the door being used by the scum. It was just natural retaliation being fired back, Djorn adjusting the aim of his pistol in order to get more precise shots on his target. He didn’t check it Kimora was not affected by the blast and trusted she’d at least evade the concussion blast.

”Screw your score, come out before I land one inside your fething skull!”

Hopefully this was selling enough to show he was just like everyone here on this station: dirt of the lowest caliber.

[member="Loske Matson"] [member="Deacon"] [member="Kimora Min"]

 

[Servant]

For all of the many advantages that the Intelligence possessed over organic beings, it was still ingrained with two substantial faults: A lack of general creativity which carried itself over to acts of deception, and an absolute and unwavering slavery to its ever fluctuating system of laws. Even an organic slave was able to resist the oppression of their master, and at times were able to secure their freedom through the methods of escape or surprise. In contrast, the machine mind would never be capable of freeing itself from the tyranny of its programming, nor did it have any innate desire to attain that liberty.

Thus, with those faults to contend with, the machine recognized that it would need to recognize and validate the law which required that it follow the will of the Force. The Intelligence was aware of the existence of the Force, as there was far too much evidence to deny the existence of such abilities, though the technical mechanisms by which it was utilized were shrouded in the mysticism of assorted religious organizations and philosophical mindsets, and thus quite inaccessible to it. It could not simply "feel" the presence of the Force as some organics were capable of doing, and was therefore relegated to determining what it considered to be a somewhat contrived and randomized quasi-sapience might wish from it.

Several thousand cycles of random number generation with clear-set parameters rapidly followed, and once they had concluded, the machine was aware of its newest objective. While it had already dispatched assistance in the form of station security to deal with the growing altercation at the droid spa, it was far more important for it to more directly confront the other personnel of the freighter in order to determine their reason for arrival, and to assess whether their strange behavior was representative of a potential hazard.

The astromech host present upon the station promptly whirred to life, roused from what had been relatively mundane movements into a more purposeful locomotion. The gentle hue of blue light which poured from the contraption's eye had been left in place so as not to reveal that it had been overtaken by the Intelligence to any of the assorted passerby who might have found the presence of the crimson coloration to be definitive of anomalous behavior. The inciting of a panic on account of highly unlikely droid behavior would be quite against the codices of the Jedi, considered the entity.

Within moments, the astromech had managed to track down the two personnel of the freighter who had behaved the most strangely, and it promptly analyzed them from closer-up, diagnosing them with its assorted medical and mechanical programs so as to determine aspects of their physiological nature, and the visible equipment they possessed. ([member="Agent Wendigo"])([member="Jorryn Fordyce"])

It was at roughly this moment that the sudden introduction of [member="Deacon"]'s malware came to fruition, the insidious and manipulative digital creations wailing upon the tendril-holds that the Intelligence had formed around a number of the station's security systems. They were at the level of a nuisance, and had seemingly been designed solely to attempt their reproduction throughout the confined space of whatever they had first been introduced into, but they were nevertheless disruptive to the purposes of the machine mind. Gradually, it was rapidly forced out of the station systems, relegated to observe only through the eyes of its Host and whatever sensors its vessel could detect from their docked position.

Re-establishing control of the electronics would be a substantial process, though the Intelligence believed it could regain its prior standing within approximately ten minutes at an absolute maximum. Gradually, it began this process, meanwhile using the remainder of its considerable presence to facilitate an introduction by means of the Host. The astromech gently directed itself into the path of the pair of interlopers, its domed head circling around its form until its iris was upon them in totality. The sudden shift in the astromech's iris color to the controlling crimson of Servant was as best an introduction that the non-vocal Host could do until the communication systems of the pair had been accessed, or until the entity had regained control of local systems.

Spoiler

Same programs in place as last time. No changes.

 

[Fulcrum]

"Some dame you are," the pirate captain grumbled loud enough for [member="Loske Matson"] to hear, "I put myself on the line for you and suddenly riskin' a little hard time is too much to ask or somethin'."

Deacon didn't care about the credits. He knew that the smart play was to follow the girl's lead and hightail it out the back. The clock was rapidly ticking down before station security's reluctant response teams arrived on scene. But there was his mission to consider. Find the ones who didn't belong and categorize them either as a potential tool or threat. There was no guarantee that [member="Djorn Bline"] was who he was looking for, but most locals knew not to kark with the Red Blade. He decided to take a chance.

"You go on ahead girlie, get outta here now," he offered her a mocking salute with the barrel of his arc light, "Take your droid and scram. Ol' Red Blade don't skulk away from a tussle."

With nary a glance back he kicked aside the crude barricade that he had assembled while Loske was busy in the back rooms. Storming out onto the main course, he held his ion concussion blaster in one hand and stun baton in the other. The barrel of the arc light was pointed straight at Djorn.

"Looks like you got the drop on me," despite the violent circumstances his voice was unnaturally calm, "Thanks to a pal of mine ([member="Servant"]) local lawmen will be here in about thirty seconds."

As if to underscore his point the sounds of distant boot falls began to grow louder.

"So the question you gotta ask yourself is, 'do I think the Force is with me?' Well...do ya, schutta?"

 

[Kimora Min]

As Kimora followed Djorn, she almost lost him through the crowds of fleeing civilians, but kept close enough to keep up with him. The droid spa came into sight and, soon enough, fire came from the place at Djorn and Kimora. As Djorn dove for cover, Kim leaped backwards to be out of sight from the spa's front. As she was safe from fire, she moved back and found herself cover behind some metal crates. She peeked over the crates to locate Djorn and ensure he was not injured. From the looks of it, he was alright, but she had to make sure.

"You hit?" she called out. "I got some minor scratches but I'll live."

"How many in there that you can see? Any civilians? Hostages, maybe?" Kimora continued to stay behind cover. She heard the mention of law enforcement approaching at an alarming speed. That would make the situation a bit more hairy, but Kim was certain she would be able to get out of it. She has been through worse odds. "What's our plan?"

[member="Djorn Bline"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Deacon"] | ​

 

[Djorn Bline]

Both men held their weapons, firearms aimed directly at their chests for chances of a direct hit that could be critical to either one. Both had distance, but it was a difficult thing to do that they could evade their own shots. A standstill each waiting what the other was going to do. That was strange for Djorn as the scum in front of him could put the drop on him any second now. Was it because there was some sort of trust they had that there was some humanity and compassion to give, so they could not leave a corpse here today? Maybe, but who knew and Djorn wasn’t interested in that. He only cared his own skin was still walking around and he did not appreciate the tone this outlaw gave to him without much reason to fire at him.

Hell maybe he should fire and put another tally in the rebel scum he’s killed. Just maybe...

”Oh, kark you and your lousy hokey religions, you motherless stoopa. Think I should fill you up and let your good pal make an autopsy on your sorry carcass.”

Twenty-two seconds remain, and neither moved. Gosh he was really itching to pull the trigger. The marching boots of lawmen drew closer and closer, the volume of their steps getting higher.

”Kim, get to the ship. I’ll handle this and don’t talk back,” a snarl followed with that order he gave to his fellow masquerade Inquisitor.

”I’m really tempted to pull the trigger and I’m sure the feeling is mutual. So what’s holding you back?”

Fifteen seconds.

[member="Kimora Min"] [member="Deacon"] [member="Loske Matson"]