Public Somewhere in the Scar Worlds

[Dante Castillon]

"Don't uhhh... Just don't be get too friendly with 'em CorSec... Occupational Hazards 'ave been met all around in that un."

Jerec swapped his fob for the others, slipping an ident chip with beacon info and general contact.

"You bein ever in need of a job, that's me. Just sendin a beam, ke?"

The older pirate smiled, winking, and turned, flaring the shaggy cloak a bit he wore, revealing almost military-like fatigues under his cloak, as he began his hawking chant again. A salvage ship would save him hours, if not days at the job. Yes, the 1930 was over-trade. But it was too flashy too easy to trace and remember. And that wouldn't do for Daymon. With his re-entrance into things after decades of relaxation, he was looking to do a little good and wipe some red off his ledger. A 1930 wasn't needed for that for him.

Jerec Asyr

 

[Samara Raine]

"I can't pay with coin," she finally warned. "...Song Steel. A small chain." She shrugged as if to say, that's it.

An 'ah, I see,' look came to Samara's face. Payment for services rendered hadn't even crossed her mind nor had it ever nor would it though that might be easier said than done out here in the wilds of the Scar Worlds.

"Well let's not get too bogged down in such things... What's more important is your leg wound is taken care of, hmm?" the Jedi doctor replied to the payment offer, then her sea-green orbs looked around for somewhere to tend to the young Zeltron's injury.

There was a vacant stall not too far away that would do for a makeshift first aid station.

"How about we go over there?" the blonde pointed with her hand, then stepped in that direction. "I'm Samara by the way."

There were several abandoned crates stacked along the back wall. Grabbing a couple, the Liann set them out so Kyra Perl could sit on one and place the leg in question up onto the other. The Liann motioned for the girl to take a seat on her mag shift exam table.

Slipping the strap to her doctor's bag up over her golden head, the healer set it down atop another crate. She took out a medkit from inside and a pair of disposable gloves as there was more than just dried blood splattered on her patient; possibly bodily fluids or tissue from another creature perhaps...

"That's some gash on your leg... So how did that happen?"

 

[Skajin var Imret]

Skajin gurgle-buzzed at the idea of asking Vooltroo to revitalize one of the secret Kubaz survivor colonies — on Khemost for example.

"Bhetterr to give the szeedsz strraight to me, frriend. My people have taken rroot in szome haszardouszz placeszzz lately."

 

[Sam Connory]

The honey blonde reached into a pocket of her long tunic jacket that was worn over a jumpsuit and pulled out a credit coin, then dropped it into a hat that was laid out near the feet of the entertainer.

Samara Raine got a smile as Connory kept singing about a beautiful ghost.

When that song wrapped up, he picked a heartbreaker, the ballad of Sam Jones.

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra grimaced and prompt her leg up on a crate.

"Let's just say krayts are not very good at sharing." Kyra laughed at her own expense ripped her pant leg away, revealing the scabbed up remains of a bite. It didn't look infected, which was impressive given the hygiene of the rest her, but it was still swollen and angry against her pale pink skin. Her skill with the force had only gotten Kyra so far. She was grateful for the hand.

It reminded her of home.

Kyra looked up at the stranger, recognition still missing from her gaze as she watched the gloves be snapped on.

"Are you a scientist then? Can you really fix what's been done here?" A quick glance to the acidic sky said it all. This might have always been a desert but it was near inhospitable now, and not just cause dead crab shells lingered about.

Local agriculture was all but extinct.

Samara Raine

 

[Tyrell Caphey]

A safe port in the Scar Worlds, or what was closest to one, anyway. One torn and scarred by wars, and by all major powers left to fend for themselves, with crime and poverty being business as usual. It's inhabitants severely in need for supplies and aid. Just the right spot for the Antarian Ranger on leave to find a certain jedi doctor. One with the biggest heart he had ever come across, and one personifying the good samaritan in her struggle to help others. Information now said that it had brought her here, to the battle torn Scar Worlds, and to this remote outpost.

Times had changed, and the Silver Jedi along with the Antarian Rangers with it. Samara had left Kashyyyk and set out on a journey of her own and Tyrell had continued to serve the Silvers through his position in the rangers. It had been a longer time apart from each other than he had expected, and many were the times he missed to have the honey blonde jedi in his arms. The question was if those thoughts and feeling were still mutual. Either way, it was now time to find out during this longer leave from the Rangers.

Accustomed to a military life and limited to the wardrobe he brought on his u-wing, Ty had stuck to a well worn woodland battle dress uniform with unbuttoned shirt showing an olive green t-shirt underneath. Being a soldier he wasn't travelling here without some sort of firepower, with the SHG-001 Ranger Field Pistol resting in its holster on his right side. He threw the done cigarette on the ground and made his way into the market.

In the crowd of mostly aliens, two heads stood out from it. A deep red one and following a blonde one that stood a little taller than the red one. Honey blonde, by the looks of it. Ty wasn't about to swear that it was Sam, but he would soon find out. He cruised through the crowd and the voices from the women became louder as he approached the stall. He recognised one of the voices, and instant relief spread inside him, glad that he had found her and that nothing had happened to her. His green eyes observed the two for a moment, the young zeltron woman might have noticed him before Sam did, but his face and posture told her that he was a friend. A surprised but relieved one that was.

''Sam...?''

Samara Raine , Kyra Perl ​

 

[Samara Raine]

edit

 

[Arianna Belasko]

Wearing: Diplomatic Gown

Armed with: Subverter's Blade

Objective: Covertly establish market ties.

Arrived in: Cathedral Yacht


"Are you enjoying your tea?" Countess Arianna Belasko inquired, lounging in a white seat in an all white room with matching furniture. Draped around her neck was a large amulet studded with diamonds, and a large, circular ruby at the center, each hand bore a clear emerald on a engraved golden ring. Her earrings were fine strands of silver studded in fire diamonds, terminating in black Naboo night Pearls.

Herzog, a middle aged freighter captain in an armored bronze Flight Suit with a cap on his head looked up from his half drunk cup in fine Naboo ceremic.

"It tastes very good." he answered.

"Truthful. But not what I asked..." Arianna replied. "Please keep in mind a truthful response is always favorable when dealing with us."

Herzog thought a moment. He took a sip.

"No." hs answered.

"Truthful. Why not?" Arianna asked, popping a small chocolate into her mouth.

"I've heard stories about you." Herzog answered.

"Oh? What sort of stories?" Arianna asked.

"They say you're some kind of Witch. One who practices terrible dark magic."

"It is true that I am a Sorceress within the CIS. As for terrible dark magic, all magic can be terrible and Dark if focused to those ends. And we all have different scales of what is terrible..." Arianna replied.

"I want to make it clear that I didn't support what the Black Knight was doing the past few years. I thought she was a maniac and I still do, especially after what she did at Rhand."

"If the Black Knight is a Maniac, then the Major Factions are outright Psychopaths for how they've conducted themselves the past few years." The Countess replied. "Xiphos does what she can to mitigate the damage, but some times hard choices must be made."

Herzog's head dropped a little lower.

"I know all about hard choices. Like the one I'm about to make..." Herzog admitted.

"The Chancellor sure is a power player, making that announcement." Arianna said, sipping her tea.

"He's trying to squeeze out all the weapons manufacturer's who won't bow to the Alliance. My company was on the Fortune 700 yesterday...now it's in freefall because I don't want to sell weapons exclusively to them. I was using my profits to help rebuild around here. Now the stock is in freefall. Soon I won't have money to afford the repairs to my forges. But I don't want to work for the Alliance. But the tax breaks the others are getting are causing the rest of my shareholders to lick their chops."

Arianna smiled.

"Do you want to get a bailout."

Herzog nodded.

"My men are hard working honest sorts. We always dealt within the limits of the law. But that doesn't seem to be enough now."

"I'm sure there are plenty of companies who could have offered you a loan..." Arianna mused taking another sip.

"Yeah, and they would have gouged us when it came time to repay it. But you got feth-you money." Herzog answered, tone mildly scornful.

"That is true." The Countess of Khemost replied.

"Way I see it, they wanna give tax breaks to any company who wants to be their lapdog, than I shouldn't have to play by the rules."

"I can cover you. But there are things I want, things that the people I work with want. Not repayment except in very small amounts, but the main thing I want is to place intelligence operatives with covers in your work place. You will also be required to allow us to barrow your forges from time to time, and distribute our own weapons through your company. One credit for every sale you make."

Herzog thought a moment.

"Will any of my actual employees have to assist in your operations?"

"Of course not."

"How do I explain where I got the money?"

Arianna smiled again, stood up, removed her earrings, then her amulet, then her rings, placing them all in separate jewelry cases and bringing them over to him.

"You sold inherited Jewelry from a relative. That should cover all your expenses for the next four years. Let me know if you need more." The Countess answered. "One final Condition. You manufacture a small shipment of DC-15's every year.

Herzog picked up the cases. "Agreed."

"Are you still frightened of me?" Arianna asked.

"Yes."

"Good." Arianna said, taking a seat next to him in the white couch. "Because know this. House Io backs all it's allies as much as it can. But we are equally adept at prosecuting those who betray us. If you start feeding others information we take you into our confidence for, we will find out, and you will be punished...I will take the betrayal personally..." Arianna said pleasantly, still smiling warmly.

"And should we have an encounter under those circumstances, you will not find me nearly so pleasant. Because the stories you have heard are correct. I do practice terrible Dark Magic, which I absolutely will use upon you with great enthusiasm if you compromise us. If you stay loyal, keep your head down, remain competent and focus on selling your weapons, as well as fulfilling your small concessions towards us, you will never have a better friend. I will be delighted to have you aboard my ship each and every time."

Herzog nodded. "I understand. Funny thing, that's more direct than any corporate husk would put it."

Arianna continued smiling warmly. "I'm so glad we understand each other, Mr. Herzog. Loyalty to the House will take you very far with us. Now would you like to stay for cake? It's cheesecake with strawberries. Wonderful Martini on the side."

Herzog finished the last of his tea. "No thanks."

Arianna shrugged.

"Unfortunate. I've found your honesty greatly refreshing. What else do all those stories say about me?"

"They say you're some kind of Demon from The Gulag Plague called The United."

Arianna developed an intrigued expression. "Who said this?"

"He's a friend of mine. I'd rather not tell you."

"That is a name I haven't heard in a long, long time..."

"It true?"

Arianna stared at him with piercing blue eyes.

"Would it make you any less willing to take our money?"

Herzog thought a moment.

"No."

"Then yes, I was called The United, and I was a powerful Sith. 'Am' a powerful Sith. But that was before your time. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Now..." Arianna asked. "Are you absolutely sure I can't persuade you to try this wonderful cake?"

Herzog shrugged. "Sure. Why not..."

Arianna snapped her fingers and servant droids came in with the cake...

Present...

Arianna Belasko walked the streets of the planet, escorted by a pair of women in dark green metallic catsuits, apparently twins. They were both armed with laser sight equipped DC-15S Carbines with undermount 40mm grenade launchers, Echani Vibroswords, and a belt of 40mm Plasma Grenade rounds, while Arianna wandered the market place with only her saberstaff equipped.

Places like this...were ripe for House Io's influence. Planets slowly rebuilding. Lots of time for snakes to crawl into all the openings exposed at such a point.

Arianna could already see the potential. Land and real estate opportunities, all purchased via third party proxies...such as Mr. Herzog...

The Countess strode forward through the crowds, already intent on sampling every good possible...

 

[Percival Io]

A transport rolled up to the crappy little makeshift market, startling a few of the locals. It came to a stop and a pair of women got out, opening the back. They started to unload their cargo—box after box of supplies. Food, medicine, blankets, clothing, the works.

Soon a crowd had gathered 'round. One of the women opened a box. Her movements seemed impossibly slow and methodical to the onlookers, starved faces staring with wide eyes at the piles of stacked crates. "Please form a line for the distribution of aid," she said, and with her companion still unloading more boxes, no one bothered to protest or make a grab for the goods.

More vehicles arrived carrying medical equipment. White-clad doctors filed out to tend to the sick and injured, loading the worst of them into mobile bacta tanks. A ship landed a few meters outside the shell, garnering still more attention as they offloaded even more supplies.

Percival stepped out of one of the vehicles, his gaze sweeping over the market and the pitiful vendors it harbored. This shithole represented the most desperate members of the surviving population, reduced to haggling and trading for basic needs, or trying to take advantage of stranded spacers looking for salvaged ship parts. It would be almost too easy to convert these people to his cause.

Standing atop an emptied crate, he addressed the crowd. "Where are the other transports delivering aid?" he asked, just the right amount of disappointment and righteous anger in his tone. "Where are the field hospitals, the soup kitchens and the refugee camps? Are we really the only ones coming to help you with an open hand, rather than a closed fist?"

The crowd was silent, save for a few stray coughs and the wails of an infant, but Percival sensed he had their attention. Some of them, anyway—many were totally numb by now, so far retreated behind the walls they'd erected against suffering and death that they were unreachable. He wasn't talking to them.

"I don't see any Concord, Alliance, or CIS relief workers here, though I seem to recall that they all made vows to help rebuild the Scar Worlds. Even the Eternal Empire, whose Empress pleaded so valiantly for an alliance against the Drael scourge, have failed to deliver on their promises of assistance." He set his jaw and hissed with a sudden spike of rage. "Has the entire damned galaxy forgotten about you? Even the noble Jedi would rather rush off to the glory of their next battle rather than care for the innocents they claim they're fighting to protect!"

Now there were murmurs rippling through the ranks, radiating outward from the firebrand in their midst. Percival crouched down to their level, his inhuman green eyes piercing the crowd.

"We have not forgotten you. You will see in the coming days how House Io keeps our promises. We will give you what the politicians and their corporate lackeys have denied you, and more. If they will not rebuild this world, or any other that suffered under Tathra's genocidal vanity project, we will. You will have your homeworld back, and life will bloom again on these shores. And for those of you who love justice, true justice, you will have it against the hateful Draelvasier who remain..."

Arianna Belasko Jerec Asyr Dante Castillon Samara Raine Kyra Perl Tyrell Caphey Vooltroo Skajin var Imret Vetru Atlas Drake​

 

[Alessandra Io]

Location: Fallen Siege Crab Marketplace, Unspecified Scar World - Wild Space
Attire: Magenta and White Kimono
On Person: House Io Citizen Energy Sword
Objective: Give Back
Tags: Percival Io Arianna Belasko

They were rich.

Perhaps not by the standards of the galactic superpowers, but certainly relative to the crowds of downtrodden, desperate, and forgotten Wild Space denizens within this marketplace and many others like it across the Scar Worlds. The Nuetralizer gazed through the windows of the transport as she took in the diverse array of beings in the market. Aliens of seemingly all variety made up the vast majority of the crowds. Her eyes shifted from Jawas selling scrap to muscle bound Abyssin gangsters collecting tithes, then towards a small group Weequay pirates hanging around a makeshift cantina, and finally, a pair of tiny Anzellans who were performing the delicate labor of repairing a hyperdrive for a wealthy Keteerian crime lord, if the quartet of massive, voulge-wielding Bufopel forming a protective cordon around him were any indication.

When the transport came to halt, the diminutive Nuetralizer stepped out after her brother, Percival, who in his gray robes, stood out from the groups of feminine, catsuit-clad Bio-Organic Nuetralizers who unloaded various supplies and crates from the transports. While Alessandra attracted a few idle stares in her magenta and white kimono, Percival was the iconoclast of the group, drawing the most attention as he addressed a growing crowd on top of an empty crate.

Where he was the firebrand preacher, she was the gentle confessor.

Alessandra moved with the grace of water through the crowd as her brother preached, set on a course towards the group of powerfully-built Abyssin gangsters from earlier, who lingered around the edge of the crowd, seemingly with intentions that might be less than pure.

“Gentlemen, is there an issue? Is there anything House Io can do for you?” The diminutive, seemingly non-threatening Nuetralizer queried in a precise, Coruscanti accent.

“Public displays of this nature are unauthorized in Anakkona Cartel territory, of which you are in.” The leading Abyssin, who was also the largest of the group, spoke in a brusque manner. “We’ll state this plainly, miss; move this whole…circus outside city limits.” He hissed, his cyclopean features shifting in annoyance as he spoke.

“We have no intention of undermining your authority, sir. House Io is here to assist in any way we can.” Alessandra replied.

“Regardless, a display like this disturbs the peace and ferments rebellion. We might also draw…undue attention if we harbor your organization, intragalactic terrorists, if I’m aware, in our territory.” The gangster said.

“I understand. The realities of the galaxy are harsh, unfortunately.” She answered. “I suppose, we will have to make this worth your while…”

 

[Arianna Belasko]

"Y'know, we shouldn't really even be speaking..." the Merchant said. "Whole lotta people would pay to see the head of your boss on a Pike. I could get in trouble with the local gangsters just for talking to you."

Arianna smiled, immaculate looking as she stared at the Merchant, sitting across the table.

"Is this why you got into the business? To take orders from thugs? To try and hawk used Bryn'adul weapons surplus? To try and sell everything else you actually do make to a populace that can barely afford more than its basic essentials? You would be better selling to us under the table. And as for the gangsters, well, I have people working for me more lethal than any gangster. Even our protocol droids are deadly. House Io welcomes battle with criminals. Not as stimulating as killing full blown warriors. But if we can kill Bryn'adul, aka the ones who turned this place to what it is, what do you think we'll do when some gangster tries to kick us out? Any gangster? An *army of gangsters?" Arianna asked with a smirk.

"Do you see the Alliance helping this place? The CIS? Anybody? No. The Alliance is offering tax discounts to weapon companies. The people I work with actually want to see this place recover. We'll even take lesser cuts of the profits. All we really want is a few permanent operatives working at some of your outlets. We'll pay you what your stuff is worth...and any gangster makes a fit we'll buy them out. Any gangster that cannot be bought out will be cut out. Violently, if necessary."

The Merchant took a puff of his cigar.

"You'll keep the gangsters off of me?"

"They will die by my hand personally if they give you chit." she assured.

The Merchant was still skeptical.

"We can never have it acknowledged that we do business."

"But of course..." Arianna said pleasantly.

"Alright...I'll give you a shot. I got bundles of armorweave and whatnot. Toolkits. Medpacs...Heavy repeating blasters..."

Arianna smiled. "All stuff we are always seeking more of."

14 minutes later.

Arianna left the merchants out post, having purchased crates of Bryn'adul weapons. She would have it examined aboard her Cathedral Yacht.

In the meantime...

Arianna walked through the streets, a pale vision among dirty masses, her beauty and glamour unsettlingly out of place as she came upon her adorable grandson Percival Io preaching to the masses.

Her daughter had gone out of her way making the chaplain Nuetralizers to be charismatic. The Galaxy's first Droid Spiritual Leader. When Xiphos's designs raised even Nine's eyebrows you knew she was on to something.

Arianna waded through the crowd, taking note of her Grand Daughter Alessandra Io having run ins with similar gangsters. Criminal scum must be either controlled or disposed of. She hoped Alessandra didn't go soft. Arianna had dealt with this sort for years.

 

[Percival Io]

Percival’s attention was drawn toward the thugs lingering at the edge of the crowd. Alessandra had already gone to speak to them, but the discussion didn’t look promising. If House Io had seen any value in working with these cartel types, his programming would have barred him from so much as uttering a word against them… but scumbag criminals such as these were worthless. If anything, they should be used to set an example…

“Behold, the mighty Anakkona Cartel,” he growled. “Afraid of a crowd of the sick and the wounded, the hungry and the homeless.”

Hopping down from the crate, Percival approached the Abyssin gangsters without fear. His empty hands hung loosely at his sides, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Unlike his sister, he had no intention of compromising with these animals, nor would he stoop to bribery.

“Perhaps if you had done what we’ve come here to do, you wouldn’t live in fear of rebellion.”

Arianna Belasko Alessandra Io​

 

[Dante Castillon]

As the new arrivals came in, they would find by and the crowds didn't change. Those more desperate, with families and the like, flocked to supplies and more. Others though, simply did as Daymon did. Eyed the rich people throwing around pity-money and rolled their eyes, straightened their shoulders and got back to the job at hand. The Scar Worlds were a loose identity before, but they had been forged into something almost iron-hard by their tragedies. And it would take much more than a handful of credits and a care package to be seen as anything more than arrogant and privileged rich folk showing pity to the destitute to make themselves feel better about failing in the first place.

Daymon knew that might not be these people's case. But they sure weren't going about proving otherwise very well.

Alessandra Io | Percival Io | Jerec Asyr

 

[Alessandra Io]

Location: Fallen Siege Crab Marketplace, Unspecified Scar World - Wild Space
Attire: Magenta and White Kimono
On Person: House Io Citizen Energy Sword
Objective: Give Back
Tags: Percival Io Arianna Belasko

“And so, we have an understand-” The Abyssin gangster nodded as he pocketed the credits the diminutive Nuetralizer had passed to him, before the sharp, fiery voice of Alessandra’s brother cut a lightsaber through the air, casting fire on the group of Abyssin gangsters at the rear of the crowd. Surprise was laid bare across Alessandra’s features as he approached, the diminutive Nuetralizer giving him a cautionary glare in the process.

Unfortunately, her warning came far too late.

“Perhaps if you had done what we’ve come here to do, you wouldn’t live in fear of rebellion.”

And yet, the hulking Abyssin gangsters were unfazed by the comparatively puny pair of Nuetralizers set before them. Instead, confusion took the place of fear, generating a period of awkward silence as the leading gangster scratched his bulbous skull, cyclopean features manifesting bewilderment at the young preacher’s furor, then anger when he realized that the boy had insulted the cartel.

It would take far more credits than he had already received to tolerate that.

“Well, there was a deal on the table, but I think-”

“There was no deal, criminal scum.” Alessandra lied, her words just as firm and unrelenting as those of her brother. Now, it was important that they spoke with one voice. The miscommunication would have to be dealt with later. “None of these people made a ‘deal’ to be squeezed for all their credits while still struggling to pay for basic necessities.” She hissed, her articulation a sharp departure from the conciliatory tone she had taken only moments before.

“Be very, very careful, little one.” The Abyssin warned. “Now, we can still work this out peacefully. We’ll just need a little more…kickback. Or else, this little circus will be disbanded.” He threatened, as his men slowly advanced on the pair of seemingly frail, weak Nuetralizers. “I know your...family, has plenty more where this came from." The gangster continued, shaking the credits in his hand as he did.

"We’ll just need a little more…”

 

[Draco Miles]

Ah, the scar worlds… Draco knew these well, practically having lived in them for a couple years due to training or missions. Cartel members she knew like cattle: boring, and only good for shit. She had been instructed by Arianna to attend to the relief efforts and as such, found peace in dealing with gangsters. The 6’11” draconian woman with muscle silently stepped behind the gangsters, her movement muffled by the sands and making it easy for her to slip up. She put a hand on one of their shoulders while her other hand moved her lightsaber between them. One press of a button and they will both be impaled

“Credits does not talk as well as Violence. Go back to your hideout, or I give the crowd what they want and splatter your brains on the sand.”

 

[Percival Io]

Percival quickly realized he had interrupted Alessandra’s attempt at bribery. Thankfully she took his side when the gangsters tried to shake them down for more money, but no doubt there would be strong words later. Or at the very least, he expected some degree of annoyance from his sister about the incident.

The gangsters were not intimidated by the two Neutralizers. Then, Arianna’s new apprentice, Draco Miles, jumped into the picture. Percival’s eyes flicked to the lightsaber she held between the two thugs. His own weapon's hilt slid out from the sleeve of his robe and into his hand, where it remained unactivated but ready for action.

He wanted to kill them. Badly. House Io were the gardeners who would make this planet bloom again, and criminals like these were the weeds. Better to cut them down here and now than wait for them to spread further. But he would wait and see what they would do first before he struck...

Arianna Belasko Alessandra Io Draco Miles​

 

[Alessandra Io]

Location: Fallen Siege Crab Marketplace, Unspecified Scar World - Wild Space
Attire: Magenta and White Kimono
On Person: House Io Citizen Energy Sword
Objective: Give Back
Tags: Percival Io Draco Miles Arianna Belasko

Oh, there would be words. Strong words.

For the sake of singing a single chorus, Alessandra had played her part in escalating the situation and now, she wanted to figure out how to resolve it peacefully, without paying the gangsters more than she already had. Like any Nuetralizer, Alessandra was a dangerous combatant, programmed for violence and moreover, her body itself could be harnessed as a weapon, with electricity-projecting organs in her arms, tractor-pressor organs that could effectively mimic a Force Push or even a deadly Crush, and an organ that was essentially a miniaturized sonic cannon in her throat. Alessandra had killed before, including Mandalorian warriors on Panatha and Drengir on Abherin. However, those were different contexts, transpiring in urban battlefields or dense, infested forests full of creatures that were trying to eat her.

This was a peaceful, civilian marketplace.

The Chaplain had no desire to earn a bounty on her head or worse yet, the ire of some intragalactic cartel, if the Anakkonas were in fact, a subset gang of a larger, more powerful entity. By the same token, her brother was in no mood to negotiate with the gangsters.

Neither was the Countess's apprentice, it seemed.

The puny Nuetralizers were perceived as being of negligible threat to the hulking Abyssins. Nevertheless, the gangsters were set on edge due to the presence of the crowd. As such, the towering, colorfully-scaled draconic woman was quickly picked out as a potential threat. Just as she moved to close in, three of the Abyssins placed themselves in front of her, intending to block her path to the leader.

“That’s close enough, miss.” One of the gangsters said.

All the while, the leader glanced back to the apprentice, before shifting his position so that the two Nuetralizers and the draconic woman were in sight of his cyclopean gaze. While the Abyssin were normally characterized as a brutish, violent people, the veteran gang lieutenant had learned over a hundred years of service to various criminal organizations that more often than not, it was better to seek the peaceful solution, rather than resorting to violence outright.

“The option for peace is still on the table.” He said. “I’d hate to make a scene.” The gangster sneered.

“Failing peace, you’ll find that House Io is not afraid of or inept in violence.” The short-statured Chaplain hissed.

“If it's violence, then I like my odds.” The lieutenant answered coolly.

“If you like them so much, then why hesitate?”

 

[Skajin var Imret]

Percival Io Alessandra Io Arianna Belasko Draco Miles

Between one heartbeat and the next, knockout darts sprouted from the gangsters' necks or neck-analogous body parts. The darts had the juice to drop a Drael. The gangsters fell hard without a shot fired.

"Badly done, frriendsz." Skajin emerged from a shadowed niche in the carapace. "Confrronting the carrtelsz put only the localszz at rriszk — prride overr tacticszz. Laerrtia would be embarrrasszed. Pleaszze leave, and tell her Skajin var Imret szendsz hizz favourrrite teacherrr hizz regarrrdszz. What comeszzz nexzzt herrre isz ourr prroblem, not yourrsz. If you trrruly want to help the Szcarr Worrldsz, give gunszz and money and sztop sztomping arround."

 

[Draco Miles]

Draco was about to dispatch the leader’s lackeys before bug man trainquilized them. She saw them drop to the floor and nodded. Interrogation was now the most viable option!

“Thank you, mister… tranquilizer man… I’m going to take them somewhere else, so that they don’t get trampled by the crowd or stay here.”

Trying to keep the fact she was force sensitive hidden, she grabbed the bodies of the gangsters and began pulling them out of the way, into the dark alley, there she could choose to dispatch them or keep them alive. She did not know what information each of them had, and any little bit helped. She tied up the gangsters and brought them further into the darkness so she could interrogate on locations of their operations and places of interest. She used the force to speed this process up, using a mind trick on the group to get them to cooperate, whether they liked it or not

 

[Percival Io]

Before the bodies could hit the ground, Percival had whirled around to face the unseen attacker. The Kubaz who had tranquilized the gangsters spoke, his speech slurred with a thick accent.

"Confrronting the carrtelsz put only the localszz at rriszk — prride overr tacticszz. Laerrtia would be embarrrasszed…"

Percival’s grip on his lightsaber hilt tightened with a spasm of blind rage. How dare you. How dare you intervene—how dare you speak as if you had any authority—

But once the name Skajin var Imret was uttered, unlocked information in his databases barred him from further violence. The Kubaz was indeed one of Mother’s former apprentices, and one that remained in fairly good standing at that.

The crisis had passed, and Percival’s tension unspooled with it, having no aim for his wrath. Draco seized the unconscious bodies of the cartel gangsters and started dragging them away, apparently meaning to interrogate them.

Percival wasn’t sure if the Kubaz would take issue with her actions, but he made no move to try and stop her. For a moment he glanced at Alessandra, as though waiting for a lecture, then he turned to Skajin. “Where do you want the guns and money, sir?” he asked, his tone only slightly bitter. “Is there already an organized rebel force on this world? Or do you perhaps intend to lead these people in an armed uprising?”

Arianna Belasko Alessandra Io Draco Miles Skajin var Imret​