Private Way Down We Go

[Kaska Arden]

L E V E Lㅤ1 2 6 8ㅤF R E I G H T Y A R D S
C O R U S C A N T ,ㅤC O R U S C AㅤS E C T O R

Elpsis Kerrigan

A fierce, unseasonably cold wind whipped through the gaps that separated the containers, bringing with it the promise of rain from the uppermost reaches of the sprawling city block. It was hard to imagine the sky this far down. Even beyond the towering rows upon rows of rusted, faded red containers of the freight yard, there was nothing but cloudscrapers and megablocks as far as the eye could see. Stretching up into the thick, smog like haze that separated the affluent upper levels from the impoverished lower slums.

It was the second time in as many weeks that Kaska had ventured below the upper several hundred, crossing the very real, unspoken poverty line that divided the ecumonpolis. Every world, city or place had its margins. Places where the law crept away into the shadows and hoped it wouldn’t be noticed by what crawled out to fill the void it had left behind. Despite what the upper crust would have you believe, Coruscant really was no different in that regard. If anything, the shadows found as you descended towards the lower levels became longer than most. Darker, more twisted. Shaped by the recent decades of Sith and Faschist occupation alike.

White mist formed in front of the Jedi’s face as she valiantly tried to breath some warmth back into her cupped hands. The thin spacers leather jacket she wore doing little to ward off the early morning chill that was rapidly settling in ahead of the storm blowing in from above. As if the four hours - going on five - spent huddled against a precarious stack of crates hadn’t already made her regret her choice in attire.

The client was late.

Nothing unusual about that. For a world that liked to live life in the fast lane, no one was ever punctual on Coruscant. A fact that was as true down here as it was above. The small time smuggling cartels that unofficially owned and operated most of the shipping terminals down here were even more renowned for it. Seeming to delight in making their clients sweat as they stood around nervously, jumping at shadows and every passing siren as if the full weight of the Coruscant Security Force was about to come down upon them. But that was just part of the game.

Smugglers were late, clients were not.

Kaska let out a faint hiss between clenched teeth. An uneasy feeling welling up in her stomach as she continued to observe the supposed hand-off site. The smugglers - the self-styled Red Hooks down from Level 1327 - were starting to look understandably squirrely themselves as they continued to wait. Frustration and anger lacing their body movements as the seconds and minutes continued to tick on by with no sign of the client in sight. More than a few starting to trade sidelong glances and motioning suggestively towards the cargo. A few more minutes and they were liable to cut and run… Taking the cargo and the only lead she had been able to scrape together over the last three weeks along with them.

‘Karking Olev.’

She tapped the implant behind her ear and was rewarded by a pop of static as the communicator protested being forced to whirr back into life. An old school series twelve from Traxes BioElectronics that she should’ve replaced by now, but breaking in a new system was almost as bad as putting up with an outdated one. The vision in her right eye swam as the synched contact lens brought up the fuzzy, squashed looking face of the aforementioned C.I. shimmered into view, layered upon the surroundings in a ghostly outline of electronic blue.

“<<\ Arben! />>” The Lurman’s voice buzzed excitedly in her ear. As shady, unscrupulous informants went, Olev was the closest Kaska had come to finding a reliable source without tipping her hand to the CSF. Drek couldn’t get her name right, however. “<<\ How is my most favorite client? Calling to thank dear Olev for another job well done, yes yes? My motto is satisfaction guaranteed, all the time, every time for a reason, yes yes!! Not even the Bando Gor-- />>”

“Might want to start rethinking that motto, Olev.” Kaska cut him off, struggling to split her attention between the ever shifting and bobbing fuzzball and the increasingly impatient smugglers prowling around beyond her vantage point. “I am at the hand off site, but beyond a few pissed off looking Red Hooks, all I have got to show for your ‘satisfaction guaranteed’ information is an impending case of frost bit--”

There was a muffled explosion from the far side of the freight yard. A metallicalised doompf! that juddered its way through the surrounding containers as the shockwave rippled outwards, forcing Kaska to place a hand against the crates and steady herself with the Force to avoid losing her balance. A badly assembled stack toppling to the side with a louder, ear splitting crash a split second later, kicking up a dust cloud that joined the black stream of smoke that was rapidly starting to spiral up from the smoldering remains of whatever had exploded.

Stunned, the flat footed smugglers stared blankly at the source of the commotion, each other and then finally the cargo before they sprung into a flurry of motion. A greasy looking Weequay quickly taking charge and yelling out garbled orders and thinly veiled threats in a combination of broken basic and Huttese. Clearly they weren’t about to stick around to find out.

The Jedi let out a curse. Catching the client mid transaction had been a priority, but she couldn’t let that cargo hit the streets. She tapped the implant once more, not even bothering to bid the Lurman farewell as she dropped down from the crates, hand straying for the lightsaber strapped to her thigh as she landed in a crouch.

And from somewhere up above, the rain began to fall like dead bullets.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Kaska Arden

Elpsis had left Coruscant almost a decade ago. Each time she returned, she found she still hated the place. Beneath the pretty facade, it was a dump. It was all fine and glittering on top, but beneath it was a pestilent ruin of crime, decay and misery. She had spent much of her childhood down there. It was the part the upper crust of society liked to pretend did not exist, when it did not suit them to celebrate themselves by throwing a charity ball, before they promptly forgot about it again. No one had ever fixed this shithole and no one would ever succeed in doing it.

Still, the job demanded she go back again. It was supposed to be quite simple. Go down to the bitter cold Level L1268F, infiltrate the freight yards, catch a bunch of low-life and Bando Gora. Natalie's source had said there'd be a big haul. Firemane in general and the Kerrigan family in particular had history with insane cultists. It was ample reason to launch a small purge and crack some skulls. Or rather, as Elpsis preferred, burn them. Elpsis hated the cold. Even with her armour and her ability to use her pyromancy to warm herself, it pissed her off. It was enough to make her want to finally get over with things and...Naturally all hell had to break loose while the team was getting into position.

Shikoba's voice brushed against their minds moments before it happened. "Alert. Cover." The telepatic message was laconic to the extreme, but Elpsis had come to trust the taciturn, somewhat odd Vashyada's judgement. The warning came not a moment too soon, for the freight yard was shaken by a powerful explosion.

The metallicised doompf came from the far side of the yard. Bando Gora? No time to speculate. The expanding shockwave rippled outward. Already Elpsis had pulled the energies of the Force into her to summon a protective cocoon, joining her efforts with those of her team mates. That kept her from her being blown around. It did not stop her from losing her balance. Her bad leg cursed in displeasure. Dust coated her combat suit.

Clouds of smoke billowed into the air. "Everyone okay?" Quickly she received affirmations. Her helmet lacked an HUD since her blindness prevented her from being able to make much use of it anyway, but she could feel her team mates through the Force. All the ruckus had thrown the smugglers into a state of pandaemonium. Then it started raining projectiles and multi-coloured laser beams.

"Someone's crashing the party, Cylix," Natalie Dorne's deep voice came through her comm. Her call sign was Rancor, which was something that incidentally annoyed Nyssa to no end. For a moment Elpsis wondered whether the intruders might be what passed for police, but their auras were dark and vile. That simplified things. It was time to improvise. "Partuz, Rancor, don't let 'em escape. "Maalraas, with me." The squad had adopted the habit of picking animal-themed call signs.

"On it," Natalie spoke. "Partuz, get sonics ready. Then do your hocus pocus." Shikoba could do weird things with space magic that few on the team really understood, but seemed to involve ghosts and putting the fear of the void into people's minds. For her part, the blonde Essionian had drawn a shattergun revolver. They would use the chaos to sneak up close, and lob in a few grenades. Thespace mages would do her thing and Natalie would cap some knees.

Figures burst out of the black smoke when Elpsis and her crew moved to confront them, using the crates as cover. On the bright side, the biting cold no longer seemed to bother her. She sensed Rhea's lust for combat she felt the flame inside her ignite. Alas, with all the rain, she could not her pyromancy effectively, but she had other means. As the first blaster bolts smashed into her armour or bounced off Rhea's Force Imbued blade, a telekinetic blast burst from Elpsis' hands. Amidst all this, she sensed another Forceful presence in the yard.

 

[Kaska Arden]

L E V E Lㅤ1 2 6 8ㅤF R E I G H T Y A R D S
C O R U S C A N T ,ㅤC O R U S C AㅤS E C T O R

Elpsis Kerrigan

Her lightsaber steamed and hissed angrily in the rain as she charged down the now ravaged and increasingly crooked passage ways between the containers, the sea green blade appearing as the last bastion of light within the clouds of dark thick smoke that continued to roll out from the epicenter. Letting the Force guide her when sight alone failed. Confusion, fear, anger and twisted, blood thirsty glee. Smugglers and their attackers. Their emotions betrayed their positions long before they made themselves known, yet more concerning was that somewhere in the mix was a cold, military sense of precision that belonged to neither.

A third party? How did they fit in? Were they the source of the explosion?

A figure - a Rodian - ahead stumbled and staggered before she could find an answer, the bug-like thug choking back the bile that threatened to spill forth from having inhaled too much of the thick haze, their compound eyes a watery mess that blinked blearily at the oncoming Jedi. The confusion clear as day on his face even in the current haze. Quickly fading to alarm as he settled on the distinctive appearance of her lightsaber, but by then it was too late to call out to his friends that were fumbling out of the cloud behind him.

The saber might light work of his blaster, the Jedi cleaving the weapon's barrel in two with a lazy flick that didn't even cause her to break stride, her free hand thrusting out even as the parts tumbled to the floor. A concussive ball of telekinetic energy detonating into his sternum and sending the Rodian screaming back into the form of a Weequay that had just managed to emerge. Both of them vanishing once more into the smoke with a heavy thud.

Their companion was a touch less fortunate. To her credit, Kaska at least allowed the man to bellow a warning for his comrades before she yanked his footing out from under him with a flick of her wrist.
His legs comically sliding in both directions to turn the bellow into a high pitched yelp that was cut off with a heavy rap from the butt of Kaska's lightsaber. The hastily ducking figure of his attacker behind a thick stack of crates last thing he saw as his eyes rolled back.

The reaction to the scream, while by no means immediate, was suitably disproportionate for a bunch of low level thugs with guns larger than their sense. A stream of red and blue blaster bolts piercing through the cloud at sporadic angles as those within panicked and blind fired every which way. The screams of their own comrades - and perhaps some of their former clients - that were caught in the frenzy only seeming to push it to new heights.

The Jedi let her blade extinguish with a snap hiss. Her back pressed against the crates, waiting and listening for the inevitable lull. Straining her senses across the freight yard to try and pinpoint the movements of the third party. Their presence appearing as a quiet, controlled and disciplined lull in the chaos. The eye of the storm that swept around the edges of the battlefield in a much more discrete fashion than she had. Strong, heavy pulses of Force coinciding with their attacks. Too skilled to be smugglers, too focused to match the ragtag description she had heard of the clients they were supposed to meet.

Whoever the kark they were, they clearly meant business.

She clicked her tongue irritably and ignited her blade once more.

That was fine, so did she.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Kaska Arden

Violence and pandaemonium had engulfed the freight yard. Rain poured down from the sky while black smoke billowed upward. Multi-coloured laser beams shot through the air and bodies piled up. Anger, rage, confusion and fear reigned supreme. In such a situation, Natalie relied on instincts. She felt at home here. The suits she and Shikoba wore gave them a measure of stealth. The general confusion helped a bit, as did the smoke.

She heard the distinctive hiss of a lightsabre, but her immediate concern were some smugglers trying to make a break through it while firing wildly into the dark smoke, targeting whoever had claimed the lives of their buddies. The wood elf she had been paired with was odd - sometimes to the point of being plain morbid - but she knew her stuff. Besides, in the Essionian's experience, Force-Users tended to have a few screws loose anyway. Getting high on their 'mystical energy' tended to do that.

Using hand signals to communicate, they fell upon a couple retreating criminals. Having taken cover behind a container, she signalled the wood elf, pulled the pin of a grenade, peeked out and flung it forward, with Shikoba doing likewise. The small explosive travelled through the air, producing a sonic boom. The result? Disorientation and probably a bit of pain.

The Essionian swiftly emerged from her cover, firing a short, precise burst from her revolver. The gun whirred as the projectiles cut through the air before their foes could react. Two criminals were dropped in short order, hitting the ground like sacks of potatoes. One was shot in the chest, the other in the kneecap and shoulder. Flank. She winced when she heard the voice in her head. It never got any less crepy. But she ducked quickly, avoiding the blaster bolt that would have seared her head. A thug, angry and mad, advanced from the side. Suddenly there was an unearthly shriek and pack of spectral crows assailed him, surrounding his face and biting him and seemingly pecking out his eyeballs. He fired wildly, yelling.

As Shikoba strained her concentration, Natalie kicked the blaster rifle out of the Weequay's hands and shot him in the stomach. Quickly, the pair sought some cover behind a crate as undisciplined blaster fire rippled towards them. "A sword of light. Someone else is here," the Vashyada stated in her melodious, somewhat high-pitched voice.
"Bando or not?" Natalie asked tersely.
"Their aura seems Vash." That was wood elf speak for light side, whatever that meant these days. In Natalie's experience, both were more or less equally terrible.
"That doesn't say much."

With all the rain pounding the yard, Elpsis could not really utilise her pyromancy to its full extent. That was annoying. It did not, however, stop a concussive wave of telekinetic energy from slamming into attackers with bone-breaking intensity. It was followed by a blast from her shotgun. Shards tore through an attacker, hitting the man right behind him. Cries of agony ensued. The attackers wore black armour and carried jagged blades and blasters.

Where Elpsis shot or drew upon the Force, Rhea struck with her blade, each moving in tandem. Where Elpsis was not exactly fast, hindered by injury, Rhea moved with blinding speed. Ruthlessly, her blade ripped away the throat of an attacker. If she were an artist, her Force Imbued Blade would be her paintbrush and the mysterious attackers her canvas. One imagined that her preferred colour was blood-red. A bolt struck her and she grunted, using the Force to push his gun away before she cut his arm off. There was something else Elpsis sensed amidst the chaos.

Another Forceful presence. She grit her teeth. Friend or foe? That moment of distraction cost her as invisible energy hit her hard in the chest. Ouch. Her ribs did not like this. Not much time had passed since Bastion. Her shotgun fell out of her grasp. A blaster bolt coming her way was furiously blocked by Rhea. Angered, Elpsis willed air to rush from her with a howl and when the thunderclap hit her foe's ears, she shot him.