Time-check (FO's Dominion of Elrood {Hex L-51})

[Petra Vitalis]

"I'm ready!" Petra called back over the screaming of the engine. Her fingers gripped the firing and aiming controls in a similarly white-knuckled grip.

The speeder shifted as it barreled across the cityscape, and Petra wished for a moment that the antiquated speeder was equipped with crash webbing, especially when the speeder sailed across the front of the compromised safehouse on two wheels -- or repulsor banks, she supposed. But she didn't have the time or inclination to dwell on it. Instead, she took advantage of the opportunity provided by [member="Atlas Viridian"] and his fancy driving. Before the firing arc was even lined up, Petra was holding down the triggers, spinning up the rotary cannon on the back of the speeder, her eyes tracing the targeting screen and aiming with the joystick. The rotary cannon tore a path of destruction across the street.

Duracrete bricks and plasteel panels melted and spat sparks, and windows splintered and shattered. The bolts spewed across space, hard light screaming across the street at the First Order forces in front of the safehouse. In theory, the force of the cannon should be sufficient the stormtroopers with enough force to induce some serious exclamations. She kept the fire going, moving the joystick in a sweeping motion back and forth across the front of the building, spraying death at the stormtroopers in front.

[member="The Major"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"]​

 

[Elena Lowe]

Objective 1: Repel the rebel counterattack.
Location: Outside the remains of the rebel safehouse

Shattered windows were the only obvious sign that the safehouse had been compromised. Shards of glass, flung out from the detonation, littered the courtyard below. Inside, there was carnage, but here on the street, it was quiet, the troops guarding the front made uneasy conversation, looking over their shoulders for any superiors ready to give a scolding. A light breeze would occasionally whip away their words with a small gust.

Overhead, the sun was high, the sky clear and the air comfortable. Leah's jangled nerves were slowly settling. Her first field mission in the Bureau, and with the Director present no less. She'd been nervous, her hands had shook when she geared up, her stomach had wrenched when the landed deposited them near the target. But now it seemed the worst was over, and they'd made it through without disaster.

Letting her rifle hang from its strap, she leaned against the wall. Her gun pressed against her, pressing against the thin armoured vest she wore under her layers of loose, dark clothing. She took a deep breath of fresh air, her eyes wandering. Things would be wrapping up now. The rebels were dead, the safehouse destroyed.

The high-pitched whine of rapidly approaching repulsors caught her attention, and through the gaps between apartment building she caught the form of a landspeeder roaring towards them. Leah straightened up, slowly, unhurriedly taking out her commlink to report the vehicle. By the time the communicator was in her hand, the speeder was upon them.

There were sudden shouts as the vehicle turned without warning, exposing a mean-looking rebel and an even meaner rotary cannon. Not a moment later a stream of fire erupted from the speeder, and the soldiers outside dived for cover. Many didn't make it in time, and they were struck down by the sudden flood of fire.

Leah ducked down, flinching as the shots tore chunks out of the mortar above her head, and fragments rained upon her back and shoulders, battering her. She took cover behind a low stone wall, as did a trio of stormtroopers, dragging a wounded comrade to the relative safety of the position.

After a few moments of terrified confusion, the stormtroopers began to return frantic fire. Leah hunkered down, speaking rapidly into her communicator.

<: "We have hostiles outside the safe house. Repeat: Hostiles outside the safe house!" :>

[member="The Major"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="Petra Vitalis"]​

 

[The Major]

Objective 1
Allies: [member="Dresden Verbrennung"], [member="Leah Kaban"] and the First Order
Enemies: [member="Atlas Viridian"], [member="Petra Vitalis"] and his accomplices

Defiance was good. The terrorist showed his mettle when facing his untimely demise, and she was enraptured by the drama of the moment, losing focus of the world outside the dusty, debris strewn room. In it she swore she could hear his heart pounding in his chest. So thrilled she was that even Dresden’s question went unheeded, costing the troopers outside a valuable chance to properly set up before being ambushed.

Playing now with prey, she continued her sashay up to the level of the rebel’s side and then promptly fired twice into his hindquarters and lower back, no doubt sending the target into a trembling, nerve fried shock puddle for his last few excruciating moments.

::♪We’re all alone now. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.♫::

It would be their little secret. As Sybil peered down she did something she tended to save for the loneliness of nights and began to pool the Force and aim it like a spike into the brain of the pinned man, violating the barrier of his awareness and peering into the euphoria that was the elusive film reel sequence. Opportunities to get to know someone so intimately came very rarely for the Director. Of course, there probably wasn’t a much more vile disregard for an individual than what she was doing by connecting their consciousness like this -but she would justify it by internalizing the act as the ultimate way of learning what made a person exactly who they were. In a way she would be able to carry Oren’s torch better than even his most trusted of confidants.

One day she would have to thank her old Master for this gift of empathy….

The crimson caped operative suddenly brought down her axe on the fallen’s neck, beheading him neatly and sending him off to the great beyond of the void. Shaken by the experience, she was a little wobbly in the knees as one of the other troopers reported shots outside.

Then came the urgent report from the distressed Agent Kaban, not to mention the roar of the weapon going off in the streets below. It snapped her out of her reverie but already precious time was lost.

::Confound it! V, do you have a shot from here?:: She turned to the other troopers. ::You lot, get suppressing fire on that gun crew now.:: They obliged, and the Major meanwhile looked for a window that didn’t face out towards the blaster fire, possibly looking to flank the presumed rebels from another angle.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

​

[Former] Rebellion Safehouse | Operations Center Elrood​

Status: Compromised | Zeta Protocol Enacted​

​

- - -​

​

Oren silently watched as the woman sauntered towards him - the eerie gait with which she did so sending a final, cool chill down his spine. *This is how it ends.* he thought. For a moment time seemed to slow, freeze even. Thoughts of home flashed before his eyes, of a time before all... this... and just as abruptly his thoughts were cast into oblivion as the loud report of the blaster weapon echoed in his ears. He hadn't even registered that he'd been shot at first but then the pain came. Overwhelming.

He tried to fight the urge to scream but the pain gripped him. Once, twice - beyond that he couldn't feel anything but the violent burning of the plasma as it melted flesh and scorched bone. Oren's body collapsed unceremoniously to the floor, slumping onto his side as he gasped for air. Shuddering he struggled to crawl across the floor, blood smearing from the smoking wounds. Unable to continue he pushed himself up in one final act of defiance. Almost as if he had been struck by some invisible force, his body shook, violently seizing. Like invading roots, tendrils of pressure exerted themselves upon his mind, boring through his memories and experiences, forcibly torn from his very being. If he could have screamed he would have, but all Oren managed was a cough and a gurgling sound as his body finally failed him. As if the pain the woman had inflicted upon him hadn't been enough, she elected to deliver the final coup de grace. With an almost melodic ringing as the blade sliced through the air, Major's songsteel axe separated head from shoulders and soul from body. Thus was the death of Oren Oske, Rebel to the end.

​

​

[Former] Rebellion Safehouse
Status: Ambush Sprung, Approaching​

Targets: Chrome Dome ([member="The Major"]) | Solid Snake ([member="Dresden Verbrennung"])​

Objective: Rescue Oren, Sian | Inflict Casualties on First Order Troops​

​

Beside the pilot he could hear the muffled grunts as the occupants of the speeder were thrown from side to side, the air saturated with fire from the mounted turret. As Atlas glared through the viewscreen he could see a few troopers immediately go down, their armor scorched in one, sometimes two places as the hail of blaster fire ripped through them. His own blaster paled in comparison to the onslaught of the mounted weapon - but for how long? Even now, bright flashes of heated plasma tore into the metal hull of the speeder, carbon streaks beginning to obscure his view through the glass in front of him. Soon the troopers they'd surprised would figure it out. Atlas didn't expect the speeder to last much longer once that happened. It was reckless, dumb, and perhaps even suicidal, but it was the only option if they wanted to save the rebels inside.

"Hold on tight, and get ready to jump!" He yelled.​

​

White knuckling the controls Atlas ducked low in the speeder as he gunned it forward. At first it seemed like he might just make another pass at the entrance but as they accelerated past the point of no return, his intent became much clearer. He meant to send the speeder directly into the enemy positions. Taking one hand off the controls and gripping his blaster pistol tightly he locked the throttle in place, preparing to jump at precisely the right moment. Blaster fire rattled the hull, the staccato reports against the metal sounding like raindrops in an empty bucket.

"Now Petra! Jump!"​

​

Throwing himself wide of the speeder he tucked his shoulder. *Oof*. Despite his practiced roll, the hard contact with the ground knocked the wind from his lungs and as he came up to a knee, scrambled behind a small fountain. Atlas fought to catch his breath, a fire burning in his lungs with each breath. In less than a moment the speeder would reach its destination at full speed - he hoped Petra remembered to stay low.

[member="The Major"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Petra Vitalis"]​

 

[Petra Vitalis]

As the speeder swung around, the First Order troopers returned fire. Blasterfire pinged off the hull and armored windscreen, momentary infernos erupting where the blaster fire impacted the metal. Petra tried to shout back a response to Atlas' instructions, but she found herself gritting her teeth and unable to respond as the speeder banked and jolted under the attack. She released the controls and flexed her legs, shifting them closer to under her, poised like a cat ready to leap. All she needed was the signal.

"Now Petra! Jump!" And there it was.

She coiled and sprang, leaping from the moving speeder. She landed hard on the street and rolled until she ran out of momentum. She ducked behind a duracrete planter and reached under her jacket to draw a blaster pistol, which she used to return fire. She ducked back into cover and shimmied along the length of the planter, two meters to her left, and turned her head to look up at the buildings. Shop awning, window ledges, roof. Drainpipe, roof. Access corridor, stairs, roof.

Her attention to possible escape routes was drawn when the speeder collided with the front of the building. She used the distraction to dart across the plaza towards [member="Atlas Viridian"]'s position near the fountain. "Nice driving," she said with a manic chuckle, her veins coursing with adrenaline. "Think we got any?"

[member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="The Major"]​

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Objective One
Allies: [member="The Major"]
Enemies: [member="Atlas Viridian"] [member="Petra Vitalis"]

The speeder exploded into a ball of fire, and it was not Dresden's fault. It was a tough old bird, but the hail of concentrated blasterfire from the troopers must have hit something important, because the entire front end burst into orange flames tinged with chemical green.

That, however, didn't stop it careening into the troopers, knocking several aside like tenpins as the repulsors gave way and gravity and friction worked their magic.

::No shot, S. My guess is they're gonna use that fireball as a distraction, hit us where we least expect. Need you to do that voodoo that you do so well on the prisoner, if you get the chance. They mean to take her, and I say we let them have her after I get the parting gift arranged.::

The mercenary wasn't an expert on the mystical abilities of those gifted with Force sensitivity. He knew Ms. S could do some pretty tricky stuff, had watched her rip intel from minds before. If he had any idea exactly how deeply her abilities could probe, he'd probably take to carrying around an ysalamir.

Meanwhile, he set about making life interesting for anyone looking to recover her. No point in making it easy.

From his ruck, he drew out several disks, each one about the size of a CD, only twice as thick. They were painted in mottled shades of brown and grey, dark enough to almost be black, but not quite all the way. In his experience, true black was a rarity. If you wanted to hide something in the shadows, this was a far better bet. Not perfect, but then again, they weren't meant to be.

On one side of the disks was an adhesive strip. He peeled off the protective liner and affixed them to a couple of random doorways, a window or two, a pair on the stairwell, and one on the air duct for kicks and grins. Each disk, once placed, fired a hair-thin microfilament tripwire at the nearest surface, took up the slack, and settled in for the wait. Much like the bomb used upstairs, the casings were made of fiberglass. When the wire tripped, the bursting charge would pepper everything within a meter and a half of the disks with tiny shards of glass. It was nearly useless on armor, and was harmless outside of the meter and a half radius, but anyone who stumbled into one was likely to have a bad day.

The charges weren't all that hard to spot to a trained eye, but that wasn't the point. The point was to make it look like a hasty reception had been planned, which, in all fairness, was exactly what happened.

Mission accomplished, Dresden fished a handful of marble-sized spheres from his pack and shoved them in the Devaronian's mouth.

"Swallow," he instructed. "Don't chew."

Without the drugs, the prisoner would have almost certainly been unable to complete the task, but the potent brew injected into the side of her neck took care of pesky things like a gag reflex. And, judging by the puddle spreading around her as she gazed blissfully at the wall, bladder control.

The microgrenades weren't all that impressive, really. Each one only packed an ounce or so of detonite, enough to make one hell of a bang, but not enough to hurt anyone more than a couple of feet away. Pack a few of them into someone's gut, on the other hand, and the results tended to be spectacularly messy.

Would they kill the enemy agents should they recapture their mark?

Probably not.

Would the sight of her torso disappearing in a geyser of blood cause lasting trauma and line the pockets of therapists for the remainder of their natural lives?

One could only hope.

"Oh man," Dresden said with a chuckle. "I am a bad, bad person."

 

[Omari Ngao]

Obective: BYOO

The trio began their trot through the shipyard, weaving in and out of packs of people and other times letting them move out the way on their own volition. But most of the time it was Omari leading the way, avoiding knocking people over. In other positions, his fireteam was rotating around the port to get eyes on as many escape routes as they could manage. That part of the port was quieter, fewer people, so on their approach they slowed down gradually until they came around a corner and were out of sight.

"Get motion trackers down."

In the sky, there was a shuttle that was in the process of its landing. From the underside, repuslors could be seen activating and well... They did what they're supposed to do.

"Keep your eyes open, we never faced Jedi before." Turning to look back to the two assets, he nodded to them to go on ahead to the ship. And like robots, they did as ordered. Their voices fed back through their own open mic system and through the fireteam's comms.

We take em in, or we eliminate them.

 

[The Major]

Objective 1
Allies: [member="Dresden Verbrennung"], [member="Leah Kaban"] and the First Order
Enemies: [member="Atlas Viridian"], [member="Petra Vitalis"] and his accomplices

A window off the side of the building shattered outward and out peered a shiny chrome dome looking down street to the chaos unfolding down below. Not everything was visible, but a partial angle down to some kind of obstruction on the street showed that blaster fire was pinging at the First Order elements down below. A good shot wasn’t available from here, but if the intrepid Major could get behind the rebels…

Dresden’s suggestion came through the comms, but Sybil wasn’t a nexus of the Force. Her abilities within that sphere were limited, and she didn’t exactly like putting on shows of it to strangers. It’s one thing to commit an act in shadow where it was a little ambiguous. After all, to a trooper without training it may have just looked like she was playing with her food before smiting it with righteousness.

::There’s no time for that. Fall in behind me or stay with our capture. I’m going in.::

A detachable grapple module was pulled from her left forearm and aimed to a building past the square, and behind the source. With an audible pop the line whizzed out and embedded itself above street level. The other end did the same somewhere on some unlucky tower away from this ruckus, and then by using her axe as impromptu bar the chrome clad hunter zip lined down into fray off to the rear of the enemy’s location, dropping with some anticipation and rolling while stowing the one melee weapon in order to pull out her rifle in continuous motion.

Obviously, this maneuver probably garnered some attention, but considering the amount of credits that went into her suit she was pretty confident in ignoring cover or discretion: plus it might take away some of pressure from Agent Kaban and her crew.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

​

[Former] Rebellion Safehouse
Status: Ambush Sprung, Approaching​

Targets: Chrome Dome (The Majorhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/11097-the-major/http://starwarsrp.net/user/11097-the-major/) | Solid Snake (Dresden Verbrennung)| [member="Leah Kaban"]​

Objective: Rescue Oren, Sian | Inflict Casualties on First Order Troops​

​

Current situation aside, Atlas smirked at Petra's comment on his driving. He'd been struggling to catch his breath, cursing himself for making such a rash decision, none of it really mattered now. Raising the blaster up above his head and towards the face of the building, he fired blindly. If nothing else, maybe it would give them chance to find better cover. All hopes of that were dashed however as a violent flurry of blaster fire erupted from where the First Order soldiers had been. Thanks to the explosion of the speeder, the fire had died down but now Atlas could tell that they were recovering quickly. They'd have to move quick if they expected to use any remaining advantage they had. Several blaster bolts slapped into the fountain above Atlas' head, chips of stone and mortar raining down on the pair huddled there. They couldn't do this alone for much longer. Where were the others?

Scattered fire coming from the edge of the block suggested the other rebel fighters had taken refuge before exposing themselves in the courtyard, leaving Atlas and Petra to go it mostly alone. *That's what I get for trusting the locals.* thought Atlas glibly. Some of them had given the appearance of staunch fighters, so why now did they hold back? Did they see something he hadn't? Firing off a few more quick blasts he shouted to Petra over the din.

"What's taking them so long - they've got to have our position by now!"​

​

Atlas' eyes turned to the sky as if looking for something, a wide grin stretching across his otherwise concerned features. A near silent answer to his own question, it took him a minute to realize the gravity of what he was seeing, and what exactly it meant for the rebels. *Oh feth.* he mouthed silently. A barely audible pop followed by a thin line of wire shooting overhead caused him to raise an eyebrow, realizing only just too late what was happening. In the next moment a shimmer of chrome armor crossed over the fountain, the trooper's shadow dimming the rebel pilot's features. They were in a pickle now.

High above, the small speck against the sky quickly grew larger. Behind them, now standing tall as laser fire danced around her intimidating figure, the soldier so affectionately referred to as "Chrome Dome" now advanced. They couldn't stand up due to the incoming fire from the face of the building. They couldn't stop the chrome monstrosity, even as they watched several stray blasts from the First Order soldiers pinged harmlessly off the chromium surface. There was only one way to do this, only one more thing that might save them in time. Without a word, Atlas threw his body into motion.

Two rapid fire blasts erupted from the man's blaster pistol aimed at the reflective trash can's visor, hoping to buy them only a second or two more. Without waiting to see if his shots found their mark he reached an arm over, wrapping it around his companion and shoving off the ground with as much force as he could muster. In an instant both Atlas and Petra found themselves up, over, then down, settling roughly in the basin that was the fountain. Curling himself into as small a ball as possible, Atlas shouted a single word of warning to the woman.

"Down!"​

​

The speck that had grown in the sky now cast a shadow over the courtyard, and as the shape began to take form, violent bolts of red energy began to fall like hail. The distinctive X shape of the wings told those in the courtyard all they needed to know, and some things they'd probably not wanted to know. For example, how it felt to be hit with the full power of a laser cannon. The strafing run hit the front of the former safehouse first, dirt, rock, and debris cast into the air at the rapid staccato of the blasts. Then, as if the pilot above had heard Atlas' prayer, the cannons turned their mark onto the shiny reflective target which had begun to stalk towards the rebel's position. In a final flurry of blaster cannon fire towards the shimmering soldier, the roar of engines could be heard, shaking the street as the fighter came in low and blasted off once again. Atlas didn't know if the fighter jockey had hit his targets, but he sure hoped so - but he fought the urge to look immediately, that was asking to get his grape shot off.

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

"SO MUCH FOR AIR SUPERIORITY!"

Dresden's outraged shout barely reached his own ears over the cacophony of the snubfighter's attack run. He didn't bother to aim his rifle at the bird; no rifle, no matter how impressive, was going to shoot down a shielded snubfighter on an attack run. Pissing into the wind would be safer, and far less embarrassing.

He had scaled the rooftop, looking to provide overwatch for Ms. S's attack run. She was a far better close in fighter than he could ever be, but she wasn't invulnerable. Now, he was looking at a full on massacre in the courtyard below, only it was his side doing the dying.

There wasn't time to reach into his pack for anything that might have dealt with the bird, either. He had a few gadgets that, when used correctly, might just be able to shoot it down, but not without time. And that was one thing he didn't have.

What he did have was a laser pointer.

Specifically, a Class IV infrared laser pointer. The damn thing was so powerful it almost counted as a weapon in its own right. It could start fires from over a klick away, given enough time and dry kindling, and could burn out retinas in a split second. Typically, Dresden used it in conjuction with guided munitions. Illuminate the target, wait for the smart bombs to make it go boom.

Dresden had had the thing for years, long before he ever joined the First Order. It was a totem, of sorts. You never knew when you might need to drop a bomb through a particular window, and besides, it was good luck.

There was no guided bomb here, but that was okay. The IR laser also happened to resemble a targeting laser for AA emplacements. He shined the beam at the X-wing and thumbed the power switch.

If all went well, the pilot would instinctively break off to avoid being targeted. If they were that dedicated or suicidal, well, there wasn't much he could do.

[member="The Major"] [member="Atlas Viridian"] [member="Petra Vitalis"]

 

[The Private]

Location: Cockpit Special forces TIE
Objective 2

Flashing lights reflected off the glossy black of his flight helmet as he entered patrol pattern delta. The steering yoke was still stiff on the newer models but the response time was as near to perfect as he could find. The churning war machine of the First Order had once again outdone itself.

The TIE streaked through the darkness of the infinite black like a hunting hawk on the wing as it circled the nearest civilian station. The remaining members of his squadron lurked like patient vipers as he completed his scout patrol. He could feel the vibration of the engines in his feet through the actuators as he manipulated the attitude adjustments that gave the fighter its incredible maneuverability.

"Tee en zero four nine six, to squad leader." He said over the squadron comms, "No visible armaments on this station. Escort boarding shuttles is a go."

"Solid copy, Six." The woman replied as he continued to circle, "Monitor activity, we're moving in."

"Copy that, Leader." The Private replied.

The pilot focused his short range sensors on the station and waited for updated orders as the Trooper shuttles and squadron escorts closed on the station.

 

[Seto du Couteau]

Location: Elrood, Outskirts of Capital City
Objective: III (Setting up the Trap!)
Tasks: Trap the Alleged Antarian Rangers

The devilish smirk eroded quickly as the sound of intense communication funneled through his ear piece, Seto nearly chucked away the damned thing as he switched himself to a different channel. A more quiet channel. Seto winced as more traffic only continued to fuel into the line, but at least it was understandable, or rather, those on the channel were talking at a much slower pace. His mind sorting out some key information, deeper into the city there was raid ongoing and if these new facts were to be believe, it was turning into quite a brawl. A small feeling emerged in Seto to possibly get involved, but with more information coming through he soon guessed that perhaps he should avoid the area for the time being.

Regardless though, his overall objective of confirming the existence of a 'particular' book took precedence and Seto had made decent headway. The last shopkeeper was one of the last few stops left in Seto's list and quickly the targeted area was getting smaller. While he did not overtly enjoy the term 'cornering a rat', it did fit aptly for his situation. The duo Antarian Rangers had learned to hide their tracks well, but more often than not mistakes happen and when pushed into tight time constraints, even small can happen and when they do Seto was ready to pounce.

"Criminals need to be lucky all the time, but for me, I just need to be lucky once," Seto muttered to mostly himself as he checked on his data-slate. While all the transmissions were being monitored, quite aggressively Seto might add, he wasn’t expecting to pick up any calls from any actual Rangers. The goal for him was to limit these Ranger’s operational capability and shrink any logistical help they might have had at one point in time. Carrying heavy equipment and trying to maneuver in an increasingly hostile world would only serve to increase their likelyhood of making a mistake.

The bustle of people moving about gave this part of the city of new life and energy, something Seto hadn’t realized he had missed. He enjoyed the hustle of crowds, the street performers and conman setting people up, all in all he felt more at home. To be among the many faceless of this galaxy.

A red warning light lit up his data-slate, his smirk grew and tugged across his lips.

​

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Praetorian Initiate
Objective I
Equipment | Training Lightsaber, Throwing Knives, Binding Wires
Location | Office of the Grace of Elrood, Daya Grand Plaza, Elrooden, Elrood
Allies | First Order
Status | This gives me an idea...

[SIZE=11pt]The crackle pop of the comms indicated that the person on the other end of the line was about to revert to her. Reluctantly setting down the crystal as she listened to the directives, Marriskcal accepted the data the agent forwarded to her datapad. A blue map replaced the influx of continual reports and updates on the screen, and a diamond winked into existence. The numbers and data that was constantly counting down indicated that a vehicle was on its way to the back alley of the Perma.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Well, I’m sure that you’ve all heard what has been relayed to me. Time for us to take a trip to the Elrood Capitol Building.” The implications of her words were clear to all the officials in the room. Elrooden is slowly, but surely falling into the First Order’s ever-ravenous maw. Pushing herself off the edge of the desk, Marriskcal landed lightly on her feet and gave the group a bright smile. “And I’m also quite sure that you don’t need me to remind you that any attempts at escape would end up being unpleasant.”

Nodding to herself when they all gave her some form of their assent, the blonde initiate made her way to the heavy double doors, pushing it open before gesturing them out impatiently. As this was a concentrated effort by central command, there were several disguised air transport located at key points within the city, ready to collect any and all secured persons of interest. According to the diamond, theirs would be arriving in approximately two minutes.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Their footsteps were quiet against the plush carpets that lined the floor. Outside the meeting room, every other person were incapacitated, lying prone on the ground or slumped over their desks, their consciousness suppressed by a touch of the force. While she could have easily overpowered them with a hit, she used today as an opportunity to test and exercise her abilities to influence the mind of other beings. While it had worked out for her during her first operation with ALPHA unit, the youngling knew it was due more to sheer luck than skill.

With a quick sweep of her surroundings with her senses to ensure that she was clear, Marriskcal chivvied the small group into the turbolift.[/SIZE]

 

[Suki Klev]

Objective 1, Post 2
Allies: [member="The Major"] [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] [member="Max Fel"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"]

There was no answer in Suki’s commlink which meant the other agents were too busy with their own targets, or her hardware wasn’t working again, but feth, this wasn’t Dagobah. Elrood was a civilized, highly populated planet, the center of the capital a major manufacturing hub. Unless the FOSB had been interfering with the planet-wide communications there was no reason her broadcast wouldn’t have been heard.

“Another song, lass!” came a yell from the crowd.

Sighing, Suki cocked her hip and rested her elbow against the bar, side eyeing her targets. A shot appeared before her, sent by an enthusiastic fan, likely the drunkie who kept bellowing for her to sing another tune.

“That was my last set,” she weakly protested.

“Encore, encore!”

“Very well,” she acquiesced, hesitant still to take the two rebel marks down by herself and buying herself more time. What would Captain Ash think of her cowardice? Would he think she prudent, the raven-haired Siren of Avalonia, belting out another song in order to stall for more backup.

Taking the stage once more she smiled and said into the microphone: “This next one was a sweet little love song I grew up singing on Byss.”

“You give me heart palpitations like Palpatine himself.
Luckily you won’t kill me, but if you did it just might help.
I’m so crazy for you, it’s like cardiac arrest.
Everytime you come around and give me a kiss.”

Whistles and cheers and again, the anemic golf claps accompanied the first verse of Suki’s song.

“They say the Emperor has a black heart but mine is beating red.
I feel like I might die of love when you surprise me in my bed.
But when you leave the next morning, my heart turns black and blue.
But still it beats, I’m incomplete and I know she’s back with you.”

Despite the one, two, maybe three Elroodians in the crowd who seemed to enjoy the tune, Suki thought, what an awful song. No wonder it wasn’t one she sang very often.

 

[Petra Vitalis]

Petra plunged into the bracing water of the fountain, struggling to keep her head above water until Atlas shouted for her to stay down. She plunged into the water and opened her eyes, bracing herself on the tiled basin of the fountain and its curving walls, forcing herself to stay under the water. Chlorine burned her eyes, and she could feel the fine fabric of her jacket getting bogged down in the water. The long cloak, fashionable as it was and well-suited to the chilly atmosphere of space and Galidraan, was not made to be worn underwater. The crushed fabric, beautiful and finely woven, became heavy and constricting, and the young woman struggled to shuck it. She twisted this way and that, letting it drop to the bottom of the fountain, revealing a black waistcoat and a white blouse beneath.

When she couldn't stand it anymore, she allowed herself to bouy to the surface and suck in the air, ionized by the blasterfire and acrid from the smoke and fumes of the crashed speeder. Her attention was momentarily drawn to the skies when an X-Wing fighter flew overhead, laserfire screaming from its cannons. She didn't dare pop her head over the side of the fountain to see what had happened, but the plumes of fire that reflected in the windows opposite the safehouse building told her that at least some had hit home.

"That's one hell of a pilot," she called, but she was unsure of whether Atlas could hear her. She turned to find him, swimming easily across the fountain and put a hand on his shoulder. She turned her head up, wiped her burning eyes with her fingers. "We need better cover," she told Atlas over the gurgle of the fountain. "They're getting onto the rooftops - if we stay here much longer they'll pick us off!" She pulled him towards the center of the fountain, where they could use the central pillar as makeshift cover for the time being, at least until they could regroup.

[member="Atlas Viridian"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"]​

 

[Omari Ngao]

Objective: BYOO

The shuttle landed in the starport, and Omari felt as if everything around him had stopped moving. That the only things that mattered were all in his immediate vicinity, just this mission. Just his squad. Nobody else. Just here in the now.

The pouches around his belt were checked as the ramp to the back of the ship was descending. And then he waved forwards the two Intelligence assets ahead.

"Don't give anything away."

In response, they did as they were told, the duo marching up to meet the two that had come out of the ship to meet them.

From his hidden position he couldn't hear that well. Not even through the open commlinks of the assets. What he did discern however was that there were others on the ship, but he did sound as if things were getting heated, because of his calm compatriots. He heard a raised voice and by the time as he was moving out into the open to see what was going on, a crimson bolt flew out and hit the plate of one of the assets and they flew back to hit the ground. Hard.

Feth.

 

[Aren Graves]

OBJ. I

Location: Grand lobby of the Grace Of Elrood, Elrooden, Elrood

Equipment: Full set of stormtrooper armor, F-11D blaster rifle

Allies: All FO members, [member="Marriskcal Lati"]

Music: (Act Of Aggression)

Aren frowned under his helmet as he waited patiently for the men needed for questioning by the FOSB. Apparently the officials were being escorted by a Ren Initiate, which Aren was not informed of until only a few hours ago. He would have much rather preferred this affair to remain in the hands of the typical military. He wasn't very fond of the Ren since his last encounter. He took a moment to snap back to reality to scan the room with his eyes. His men had already brought every security member in the lobby to their knees, literally. There were only about seven in the lobby, lightly armed. They didn't put up a fight but, when met by about forty stormtroopers it was understandable.

He could have just had his men take them outside so they could detain them but, Aren wanted them on their knees held at blaster point to be displayed to their masters. Aren pointed to the remaining troopers in the room and gestured up the glorious stairs in the middle of the marble filmed room. "Detain all staff members and take them outside for questioning. Relieve all security forces of their weapons. Move!" The faceless men and women immediately charged up the stairs and into the any other entrance into the inner sections of the building.

Aren stood silent in the center of the room, his eyes darting between both of the turbolifts on each side of the gold accented room. It was an odd picture to him, such an elegant room, built by men and women rich beyond measure. Now they were under the thumb of the Order, their very guards on their knees in the corners of the room. Suddenly one of the men tried to run for it, bolting for the double doors leading to the streets outside. Before any of the troopers could open fire, Aren had slammed the stock of his rifle into the mans chest knocking him to the floor. The mans groans were ignored by the stormtrooper who brought his heel against his jaw, sending several bloodied teeth onto the floor in a small puddle of blood and saliva.

One of the other troopers ran to bring the man to his feet. "Stand him up!" The troopers began to the take the man outside but were halted by their commander. "Do not remove him from this room. As soon as those turbolifts doors open I want him being beaten to a pulp in the corner! I want those officials to see what their can be if they play their cards wrong..."

 

[Robogeber]

Objective: 2.
Location: Bexley Shipyards Command

The command centre of the shipyards sat at the highest point of the command station. It was a hexagonal room, which was surrounded by viewports, and consoles which acted as a form of border. There was an inner ring of computing equipment, followed by an even higher platform which sat, overlooking the entirety of the deck. It was from the centre of this platform, behind the door of a turbolift, Carlyle Rausgeber emerged with his escort. Rausgeber's cold pallid gaze examined the scene which sat before him. It appeared the centre had been damaged in the security operation. Disappointing. But not unforseen.

His attention turned to those that below in the inner ring. Several figures, sat on the floor, hands bound, and heads bowed as they sat They were all of disimilar species. Two Mon Calamari, a Sullustian, a Rodian, an Ithorian, and finally a duo of humans. But what bound them toogether was two things. Firstly age, they were older individuals. Far older than what Rausgeber had naturally managed to live, and even longer than the droid continued his legacy. Each man and presumably woman, carried the slow decay of age. Be it through discolouration of pigmentation of their skin, the greying of hairs. But age did not solely join them. Uniformity also did. They were attired in the same uniform jumpsuits. All of them attired in the same, blue and grey.

"I presume these are the senior engineering staff?" Rausgeber inquired drily as he examined each and everyone of them. He could see that some, the humans and the Mon Calamari were battered. Bruised and in the case of the human, bleeding quite profusely from his nose. A stormtrooper captain, identified by her red pauldron nodded. "I presume these injuries are your work?" Rausgeber added in a bemused tone. Sitting at the lowest ring of consoles, the captain, easily nodded again in response. She eagerly clasped her rifle, and held it close to her.

"Siryessir." She barked. Her enthusiasm, and zealotry left a smile on the droids face. "We secured this group attempting to destroy the data collection repository." The captain continued, "I believe they intended to purge the shipyards data." She then gestured at the human male, bleeding, "We caught this one attempting to disable life support systems." She gestured to one of the damaged consoles. It was smeared with blood, and presumably, the tissue of the saboteur. "We arrived just in time to stop them." The captain continued.

"Well done captain," Carlyle mused with a smirk, "I'll see that this goes on your report." He then turned his attentions to the prey he had now snared. "Now," Rausgeber began with a venomous purr, a sinister gaze cast upon the unfortunate souls under his charge. "Which one of you is Chief Engineer Vasily Dubrov?"

 

[Omari Ngao]

Objective: BYOO

Dust rose up when the body hit the ground, but soon it was settling. There was all but silence as the other agent reached out and took the blaster, wrenching it from the first hostile before the second fired another round into the sole standing asset. Omari couldn't bring himself to move, but when he finally did, the scenario had changed. The first body that had hit the ground was rising up to its feet, its blaster rifle in hand before it began firing on the two unidentified souls.

"Bring us explosives, Sergeant." Said one, the second one rising back up to its feet, its faux helmet coming off of its head and its droid head was revealed.

Proxy droids.

He thought to himself as he raised his rifle and sent the order through. "Bring me the charges!" He says hurriedly.

"There are multiple souls on board. We shall handle the interior. Secure the area, Sergeant."

"Uh, yeah..." He said, still slightly dumbfounded while his mind did its best to process what was going on. What was even the point of the trickery? Probably to make it legit, he guessed, but he was still flustered he wasn't brought in on it from the start. His dark gaze followed the duo as they marched up into the open ramp of the ship, blasters raised.

 

[The Private]

Objective 2.


The troop transport and escort fighters closed in and entered docking procedures. Zero four nine six could hear the troops through his helmet comlink. He didn't hear blaster fire immediately so he called that a good sign. His TIE moved out of range of the helmet comms and he decided to make a circuit of the station to ensure that there were no surprises.

He was nearly to the opposite end of the station when a small aperture opened in the side of the station and a large freighter made a slow exit. The pilot adjusted the ship trajectory and moved into an intercept vector. Weapons were armed and online in seconds, and he began to bear down on the moving ship. Two of the other escort fighters noticed his maneuver and broke away from formation to cover.

He armed his TIE fighter's ion cannons and opened fire from the hip not bothering with the targeting computer at the point. The green beams of energy began to pound at the much larger ship's dorsal side as he did his best prevent the ship from escaping. The ship's engines flared then sputtered and quit as the ion drives of the freighter quit their one stupid job and left the ship hanging limp in space.

"Score one for TN-0496." I said under my breath as I continued to hunt for escape.