The Arbiters: ASA Dominion of Monastery

[Raziel]

The experienced operative looked over his equipment. It had been difficult to get these items through customs, now he had to choose the correct tools for the job. The laser microphone, a product from InnoteQ would be perfect. The device worked on a microwave band and could bounce off metallic objects through several walls and “listen” to the sounds in that room by measuring vibrations.

A single shattergun would be his main defence. The weapon was tuned to fire slugs at a low velocity and was near-silent. Far better than a black-powder weapon or blaster. He picked out a pair of palm-guns too. Finally he selected six splinter knives and slid them into a holster.

His clothes were almost typical civilian, but a select few shades of grey and black. He would be hard to spot in the shadows – almost impossible given his skill – yet he could dump his weapons and barely stand out in a crowd.

Raziel strapped the brace of knives to his left wrist. The shatter gun went into a fold of his jacket. The two quickfire-2 holdouts were kept close to hand on his belt. Finally, Raziel decided to take his sabers. If there were still Templars at work, he would be remiss to go without them.

 

[Raziel]

It had been a long time since Raziel had been required to do a dirty bit of night time rooftop work. The Spymaster had other people to do that now. He was busy building his web. The web was an ever-growing network of operatives, assets and influence. He could pull stands and have someone in a position of power dangling on a string and dancing to his tune within days. He could find out what a government body was doing on the far side of the galaxy with a few messages. He wasn’t really doing this for the ACA, he simply gathered power on his own. It was instinctive to him, natural. It was also a challenge.

By contrast there was something pure about skittering across the slate rooftops without making a sound. Checking his surroundings for onlookers and then launching himself to the next building. The air was cold and fresh on his skin as he flew through the air. It was simple work. It was freedom from responsibility and the constant never-ending power grab.

It wasn’t long before he was overlooking the building of this cult. His senses were tingling, there was danger here. When he reached out with the Force, he sensed a keen and alert mind nearby. There was a sentry on the roof of the building. Odd behaviour for a small cult.

Raziel melted back into the shadows and retreated. He returned back to the far side of his building and looked for an entry. Locks and security mechanisms were of little consequence to the skilled infiltrator. He had an extensive knowledge of their workings, and always the Force or technology could be applied to undo them. He gained access to the building within moments. Letting the Force guide him, he made his way to a window overlooking the cult’s building and started to set up the laser microphone.

 

[Raziel]

There was a faint beep, indicating that the laser had found a suitable surface. Raziel left it in place. There were quiet noises in the earpiece, but nothing of use. He tracked the microphone back and forth, finding two more suitable surfaces. Again no sound. Taking a look through the window, Raziel noticed an illuminated window on the second floor. Searching there with the invisible beam it found one more surface. There was static and then it slowly calibrated to give him clear audio.

"Timelines have changed, that's why," the first voice was deep and gruff.

"The ASA don't know we're here, why should their invasion..." the second voice was higher in pitch, it sounded human. Raziel wasn't sure if the first was human or not when he thought about the two.

"This is nothing to do with the ASA. The locals have put two and two together, we need to clear the operation."

"But Ackoam was hoping for more." the second voice sounded distraught at this. Ackoam, the name meant nothing to Raziel, but he made a note to follow up. The recording was being streamed across the holonet to a spynet drop server. As he scribbled some notes in his datapad, they were sent as well.

"This will do," the first voice replied authoritatively.

"Well, I wasn't really ready to get out guests shipped out so soon, but it can be done."

"Excellent. The Force is justice."

"Its will be done."

There were footsteps and a closing door. This was followed by what sounded like the rhythmic tapping of keys. Odd, none of this really made sense yet to Raziel. He decided it was time for a closer look.

 

[Raziel]

Heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe, Raziel moved through the entrance lobby of the building silently. A simple wireless kit had disabled the civilian-grade infrared detector. The floor was polished marble. Behind the desk ahead of him great gold letters spelled out the name of this particular cult. There were rooms off to either side of the lobby, he ignored them. Back behind the desk was a much more solid door, the electronic lock on the side signifying something more important behind it.

It took just a minute for the slicing kit to get through the electronic locks. Raziel was no slicer himself, but he knew ho to use some simple tools and programmes to get through basic defences. There was a mechanical lock as well, he realised. Gently, he pulled back the latch with the Force. He held it there in place against the spring as he gently pulled on the handle and opened the door. He wedged it in place behind him, replacing the lock would potentially make a noise and he wouldn't have time to slice the electronics again if he needed to flee this way.

Disappointingly the next room was simple office space. Rows of desks and chairs in neat lines with several glass meeting rooms against the outer wall. The spymaster slunk through the shadows towards the sign for the stairs.

 

[Raziel]

This was not an office space. The walls on this floor were smooth, bare and polished. More akin to a medical ward or laboratory than the public home of a religious sect. Even in the darkness there was light reflecting from further down the corridors. A light turquoise background, with occasional flashes of other colours. Cautiously, Raziel crept through the plain corridors until he reached a door. The light was escaping through the two glass windows of the polished metal door. The view wasn't clear through the window, so Raziel twisted open the handle ever so carefully.

This room really was a medical bay. Wide metal tubes ran down the walls on either side. Each around the length of a human-sized bed. Each had a misty glass pane, from which the blue light was emanating. Displays sat next to each tube, with readings flashing across the screen. They looked suspiciously like health monitors. Raziel approached one of the tubes. A small sensor he carried didn't detect any security fields, so he rubbed the condensation away from the window. There was a human female inside. Eyes closed, completely motionless. Clearly in some kind of induced sleep or suspended animation.

He checked the other tubes, each was occupied by one sentient creature. Most were humans in their early twenties, some were children. Were these the "guests" ready to be shipped out? These were obviously the abductees. But that still didn't explain what they were doing here. He could guess though. If he could access the systems, he would place money on discovering that the Templars were rounding up Force Sensitives. It made sense given the activities of the cult, proclaiming to help those disturbed by strange feelings and emotions. A tremor from the Force prevented him from carrying on. Danger. Raziel turned and slipped back down the stairs. There was no sign of anyone as he escaped the building, but the trepidation carried on building.

 

[Raziel]

The tremor in the Force was subtle, but his mind was focussed on his senses. He slid flat onto the tiled rooftop and felt a faint breeze of air against his neck. Something crashed into the tiles above him, sending ceramic shards tumbling down towards him.

The assassin pushed himself back onto his feet, legs pumping as he climbed the tricky ground. He stopped as another missile shot out of the darkness towards him. It slammed into an air conditioning vent with a metallic “clang”. It was a brick. A brick thrown with enough force to nearly punch a hole through sheet durasteel.

Raziel raced away, using the Force to leap to the next rooftop. The darkness was his ally, but now he could sense his pursuit homing in on him. Force users, he could feel eddies in the flow of the Force in their wake.

One hand gripped a splinter knife as he skittered across the flat roof of an office block. His senses reached out ahead of him, searching for a route through the urban jungle. He barely perceived something in the darkness of to one side. He flicked his wrist and sent the knife spinning into the darkness. There was a satisfying thud, following by a cry.

Raziel didn’t even see the object coming from his left until it was too late. He raised one arm, but this assailant clattered into him, dragging him to the ground.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel was dragged down to the ground, his mind barely registering the pain as several blows landed on his torso. What did register in his mind, was that the opponent he was rolling across the rooftops with was trying to incapacitate him without killing him. That gave him the advantage, he had no such qualms.

His opponent was larger and stronger than him, but an upbringing in the back alleys of Nar Shaddaa would even the odds for Raziel. He was all elbows, knees, teeth and heels and they rolled. His opponent grunted as the damage was done. The moment his grip slipped Raziel’s hand had a blade, driving it home several times. Hot blood soaked his clothes and his opponent stopped striking back.

 

[Raziel]

For the first time Raziel got a good look at this enemy. A human man in his mid-thirties. He gurgled blood one last time before his eyes glazed over and his presence receded from the Force. There was a Templar signet ring on his hand.

As the Spymaster got back to his feet he sensed another missile approach. Too late he reached out and tried to push back with the Force. The brick hit him square in the chest sending him tumbling. His rolled and slid down the sloping roof, desperately trying to grab for a handhold. He felt himself slip off into open air, his spinning view now showing the dark sky and concrete floor alternately as he fell.

Everything went black.

 

[Raziel]

His eyes blinked slowly as he tried to bring everything back into focus. His eyes weren’t cooperating and Raziel had to try and make sense to the blurry image he was presented with. He was in a small dark room. Not a prison cell, but the red flashing light next to the door seemed to indicate it was locked. There was a strong pain in his chest, it took him a moment to recall being hit by a telekinetically launched piece of building material. Brought down by a flying brick, how embarrassing. He could feel none of his weapons left on his person, he’d been stripped of everything and then redressed in different clothes.

Then he realised. The Force, it wasn’t responding to him. He couldn’t extend his sphere of influence, couldn’t sense anything except with his physical abilities. His damn mind was still foggy, and his vision still blurred. It was like thinking through treacle. There were voices outside.

“They found Arndo, he’d already bled out,” the first said.

“Feth. Selencia is still being treated by the doc, small wound but she’s been poisoned. Doc is treating her when he should be prepping the recruits for transport,” came a second, lower pitched voice.

“We sure he’s secure?”

“Yeah, he’ll be under for a good hour more, but we’ll give him another dose now. His abilities will be completely suppress if he does…” there was a click and the door started to slide open. Raziel bowed his head and feigned unconsciousness. “…wake up.”

 

[Raziel]

There were footsteps. One moved around behind him, the other stayed in front. There was a clicking sound and risked opening an eye to see a man getting the air out of a syringe filled with bright orange fluid.

“Hold him still,” he instructed. A hand rested on Raziel’s shoulder and forearm. He saw the Templar signet ring in his peripheral vision. As the needle came towards him he leant down and bit down hard on the arm. There was a distinctly feminine scream. He tried to launch himself forwards, only to find his chair was bolted down in some way.

A quick backhand from the man in front of him sent him reeling. He had already been woozy and now he was close to slipping away from consciousness. He tasted blood in his mouth, unsure if it was his own on the woman’s.

“Hold him!”

Raziel struggled, but it was no use. He felt the sharp stab of the needle and pain lancing up his arm as the drug spread to his system. Normally he could use the Force, turn his focus inwards and fight back, but the Force did not heed his call any more.

“He’s going back under, you can prob…”

Raziel’s awareness faded to black again.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Haserian Sector​

Monastery​

[member="Raziel"]​

It was dark, cramped and he had the distinct feeling something was running up and down his leg. Not a good place to be, but sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, this time it meant crawling through the vents of a certain building, infiltration was an art some would tell you. Partially right, partially it was a cesspit of sweaty nights and stressed weekends, the evenings where you were able to play as Bond made up for that though… sorta.

‘Boss.’ Agent Queen whispered. ‘Boss!’ he whispered even more urgently. They- well Raz was in a room, strapped to a chair with needles sticking out of his skin, with Queen sitting in one of the vents trying to catch his attention. ‘Damnit, man. Wake up.’ he tried a last time, before starting to riffle through his gear in an attempt to find anything useful.

Finally he found the servo driver and began to remove the bolts which held the vent screen in place.

 

[Raziel]

The sip of tea had slightly harsher tannins than usual. The nobleman only realised why a few moments later as the pain blossomed from his chest. Poison. Through a haze he saw his loved ones crowding around him as he coughed and wheezed. He panicked when he saw the blood on his hands. His legs gave way beneath him and he saw his hand pulling the table cloth as he went down. By the Force this wasn’t how he was going to die.

“Get Mary and her medbag!” he tried to say. Instead there was just a raspy breath. The pressure behind his eyes built and darkness started to encroach on his vision. Oh feth, this really was the end of him. The darkness took him and he slipped from consciousness never to wake.



The tray of drinks slipped from his hand. His business partner stood before him, but was now a different person. The eyes showed the change even before he pulled the garrotte from his pocket and advanced. How could he have flipped like that, it was like the assassin had been wearing a different skin. He turned to run, but felt something clip his ankle and he fell.

Before he could protect himself he saw hands descended on either side of his head. There was pain like he had never felt before as the slender wire bit into his neck. Futilely he tried to grasp the wire. He twisted, bucked and struggled, but the exquisite pain intensified. His hands slipped off a table he tried to grab, slick with blood. The pain started to ebb away, and for just a moment before his brain started to completely shut down, he knew it was because he was dying. Sadness, not fear took him as he came to realisation. Regret for all the things he would not do.



The assassin was in the vents this time, Raziel realised. Again he was going to have to experience one of his victims final moments. Through another’s eyes watch himself kill again and share the emotions and pain of their final moments. It was his punishment. The Jedi Master was an exceptional empath. Ever since he had been a child he’d subconsciously latched onto other minds and changed his entire persona to fit into any situation. He was a mimic, reflecting other’s perceptions and expectations of the part he was acting out. And he had spent years using that deep emotional connection to kill. Reparations had to be made for the blood he had spilled.

[SIZE=10pt]‘Boss[/SIZE].’ Agent Queen whispered. ‘Boss!’

[SIZE=10pt]Wait, that didn’t make sense. Raziel shook his head, trying to clear the fog. No use. He looked back up to the vent as something else was said to him. Words were so difficult. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“Agent?” he tried groggily. [/SIZE]



[member="Adrian Cassidy"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Raziel"]

‘Agent Queen reporting for duty, boss.’ the Agent answered far too smugly for a guy under the cobwebs and dirt, he eventually managed to remove the last bolts of the vent and crawled out of that particular nasty situation. He scratched his ass for a moment, eyes studying the environment and considering what they were working here with.

Then when the itch on his ass subsided and all the details of the room were taken in by the intellect of Adrian he finally spoke once again. Perhaps he wished to share some knowledge, intel, or even propose a way for them to escape this wicked place.

‘I will want a raise, a big one, and a new car, boss.’ Well, one should always hope, no?

The Agent walked over to the Spymaster and began to work on his shackles and such.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel strained his faculties to try and break through the drug-induced stupor. It was no good, he slipped in an out of full awareness, having to remind himself frequently of the situation he was in.

"A raise, yes of course," he mumbled like a drunk. "You work so hard: so much research, all that training. Better that way than to cheat and...and...suffer the conlekwenshes," he continued.

As his hands were free they snapped up in front of him. A more instinctive part of his brain awoke. The survivalist that reacted and fought without bothering the consciousness that got in the way. If he could manage to walk he would need a weapon.

[member="Adrian Cassidy"]

 

[Neskar A'toll]

"Hang about." Neskar voiced, glaring with eyes of suspicion. Events most foul had transpired, with the stench of treachery hung low in the air. The five had commited themselves to acts of subterfuge, yet this felt almost ineffective due to the extraordinary chaos tearing through the renegade stronghold. Factions had swiftly drawn themselves into lines and ideology and had swiftly been obliterated by the rest. The radicals, wishing for new space. The old guard, desiring the adages of old. Moderates were few and far between; too insignificant to have a true impact on proceedings. It seemed strangly ironic. Traitors tearing themselves apart, all accusing each others of being traitors themselves.

Time to move on. Further action would dictate the events of the day, not meaningless musing.

"We move into the centre. There should - should - be some form of command centre. I think. I think we destroy it. Yeah." He rose quickly. From a crouched position, on top of a roof, he could see the fierce combat from around half a mile away. The decent vantage point allowed him to quickly decipher where to strike with calculated precision. In and out, was the plan. They'd never even know Neskar had been there.

From the roof, the motley company hopped over a waist high wall and landed heavily on the ground below. Cracked concrete and aged facades met them. From what he could tell, the base was ancient. Quickly glancing from left to right, there was a maze of stockrooms and barracks, laid out in a twenty by twenty grid, if the plans were correct. They had stopped somewhere in the south-east quadrant, and had to move to the west to the command complex. Five minutes, maximum. He raised a hand to signal forward movement, jetting off at a quick pace. Resistance would be unexpected.

Yet, Neskar still kept the grip of the ripper hand-cannon close by.

Couldn't be too careful.

 

[Neskar A'toll]

The shot ripped past him. It collided with the aged concrete construct next to him, launching chunks of concrete the size of a grown man's fist. Almost instinctively, Neskar cut his motion of jogging forward and used the momentum from it to throw himself backwards. The swift interchange moved him from the path of a much more accurate shot. Further fragments of concrete shattered from the wall, showering the small company in dust and small particles.

<< React! >>​

​

Neskar tore the hand-cannon from its holster, raised, and shot. The blind fire was aimed somewhere in the direction the original shot came from, an attempt to force the shooter back into cover and allow the company to adapt further. Another shot rippled from his hand-cannon. Another. This time more accurate. In a moment of daring, he popped his head in/out and glimpsed light shining from a darkened entrance to a storeroom, around five blocks away. The shooter had an advantage over them. For now. It was entirely possible to flank, or indeed, be flanked. Neskar's back was to the wall. A third shot rang out from the shooter. It collided with the structure of the store-room, breaking away further. Neskar moved away from the wall, crouching down near to the nearest concrete structure. He snapped his head around, motioning for two of his men to come near him, and the other two to begin flanking around. Equipped with standard bolt-rifles, the two men began laying down suppressing fire on the shooter. Neskar himself popped out every once in a while to keep him occupied. No doubt there were more, but the other two were more than capable to deal with any trouble.

This small skirmish was minor at best, a insignificant firefight in the midst of a colossal battle. How many are here? Two thousand? Three? One less won't harm anyone. Except him, I suppose. Manda, I better get a pay raise after this. A knighthood. Planets named after me, that kinda shit. Might be marshall if I play my cards right.

 

[Neskar A'toll]

It was a tight-run thing. A very big risk of becoming very close to the big empty, it definitely was, crouched behind a wall exchanging fire with hidden gunmen. It had to be said, they were merely small fish in a sea, but Neskar still felt pressured, ominous feelings of doom threatened to cave in over him. He was rarely wrong. He had to accept it, he supposed whilst being peppered by limb shattering slugs. Life was hectic. He couldn't kill everyone in the galaxy himself, so it seemed a natural progression to, at the very least, aid the combatants in slaughtering each-other. Yeah. An arms company. Not just an arms company. A galactic corporation! A'toll Industries: Call Us At 0800-RIP-YOU-OFF! He could see the glamour already. Baby steps, Neskar. First of all, he had to survive the day, then the day after that and so on. But still, the profit available made his mouth water. Put it in Corellia, yeah, a special kind of homecoming. Neskar wondered if he could create anarchy so his profits would increase. God-damn, this is making me happy. I wonder if I can buy a swimming pool filled with mone-

Ker-chenk!

A solid grapefruit sized concrete chunk slammed into the side of his helmet, knocking him silly. His world span on a pinpoint, and he felt a sickening need to vomit. Thankfully, the solidness of his 'mando' style helm saved him from a crippling injury that would've sent him into a spiral of hospital trips and a great training montage while he got back to full strength of a period of a couple of years. Silly Neskar, this is written science-fiction on a roleplaying board! A creeping wave of self-conciousness numbed Neskar and he frowned. Too much ale, he assumed and had a chuckle to himself.

Who would even pretend to be a fictional character on the internet?

Some kind of weirdo?

 

[Raziel]

[member="Adrian Cassidy"]

Raziel stumbled as he was led out of the room. It was still like thinking through molasses. Nothing was clear, basic tasks werent happening on their own without full conscious attention.

His hands, his hands were fine on their own. The slender black knife was held deftly, and even as he slipped he kept it ready. He grunted as they headed down the stairs. They needed to...to escape and come back with soldiers and stop the Templars.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Raziel"]

Agent Queen led his boss through the tight corridors, slipping in and out of cover whenever it was necessary, though it didn’t look like they were meeting heavy resistance. Perhaps the battle in the other locations of the skirmish weren’t going as well and they had to divert resources, either way, it was a good sign of faith for them.

Eventually they reached a corner, where Cassidy sighed and finally made them stop for a moment.

‘This ain’t no good, boss. Want me to give you some umpf so you can fight?’ he was referring to the syringe that he had on him, it would give Raziel a surge of energy for the coming confrontation. He’d pay for it of course, but rather have a huge headache than play dead corpse.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel starred at Adrian dumbly for a few moments, taking a moment to process the question. The Spynet had a number of stimulants in their arsenal, often loaded into false teeth or syringes disguised as datapad stylus'. Perhaps something like that might counteract the drug given to him. Maybe, maybe it would mix or...or... Raziel decided it was too much of a challenge to attempt to think it through.

"Hit me with it," Raziel whispered.

[member="Adrian Cassidy"]