Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Private You Got Larceny




19242328-0-image-a-7_1570093014387.jpg


En Route to Foerost
"I WANT TO WATCH MY LITTLE ROPO! MY. LITTLE. ROPO."

The kid directly next to her in the aisle was throwing a fit. Screaming. Kicking things, including her mother. Now there was a throwing of CIS Value Brand Talon-Os, the little circles of cereal being tossed into the aisles. One landed in her hair, Delila reaching up to pick it out of her flame red hair and popping it into her mouth. She was normally a fan of Wookiee Crisp, highly unhealthy and just sugar laden little 'cookies' disguised as a healthy breakfast food.

As the child continued to scream, Dells looked at her chronometer. Only one glorious hour left in their flight, then the real work began. The work? Laying the groundwork and eventually pulling off the theft of a vessel from a massive shipyard. Yes, she was taking public transportation to steal a craft.

Not that the company would miss it. From what she could gather the ship she was after was older and in their 'scrap heap' program so to speak. She would be trolling the large private salvage yards owned by the company containing vessels contracted for governments. The redhead assumed they kept some vessels around to draw from in case the contract was renewed or someone with big enough pockets came along and demanded the same model be made. It was perfect for someone like herself. Older models fit in well in the areas she frequented. Had to fit, move about seamlessly.

Yet this wasn't a solo venture, that she knew from stealing ships before. Hence why she hired someone from what she understood was the Rogue Protocol. Made her nervous too when she met the contact - it was a kid. Well, a kid in comparison to how old she was. If she had known, probably would have backed out of the deal all together. It wasn't the type of job to exactly mentor someone on, but maybe she got lucky with a street urchin instead.

Elbowing the kid, she grinned and inclined her head past, at the slumped over man in the third seat, snoring extremely loudly. It was starting to compete with the Ropo Girl in volume. Another wave of Talon-Os was volleyed in their direction, raining small discs down.

"Having fun?"






 
Keyrunner: White Noise | Echo-ID: WN-0 | Undervine Alias: WN0IZ | Race: Nagai | Assistance: ID Scrubbing and Network Ghosting
Team Status: Solo Run + Contact
Tag: Delila Castillon Delila Castillon

A new keyrunner meant a new risk, a bad idea in an already risky line of work. But when a fresh alias, White Noise, pinged him at his apartment, he took the op. Savant, their Chiss, had mentioned him before, which meant he was probably safe, and likely mind-numbingly dull.

Mostly, he just wanted time away from the crew. Trix dying had been hard to get ov—THWACK. Right now, all that mattered was dodging the stray Talon-Os careening through the cramped cabin. He let out a bolt of laughter. Damn, it had been too many nano's since he'd laughed like that.

"Having fun?"

Ghost glanced at the snoring guy beside him, silently praying to whatever half-cut netgods were still taking calls that the man wouldn't list further sideways onto his shoulder. He shoved some hair out of his eyes, renewing his Talon-O screening efforts, then subtly raised his shoulder like a makeshift barricade.

"Like a trip through the Titan Sprawl on 12,"—District 12—his lips curling between nostalgia and exasperation. "Get anything you want there and plenty you don't." He flicked a Talon-O out into the aisle with a grin. The kind of place where you'd find homeless hawkers unknowingly selling spire-tier tech under a pile of scrap, or lose a kidney to a stormjack ripper for taking a wrong turn. "You ever run it?" Like one planet's district, and one broken-down oversized mall was the center of the universe. "Sprawl like that teaches you quick to hustle or ghost." Convincing himself, like some 17-year-old playing at being 60 that these words meant anything outside of their crew or denon-slang, but maybe their meaning did.

Kids lived fast on Denon. Most street-runners didn't make it past twenty. You could see the work in the subtle implants along his cheek and temple, the small port at the base of his skull. He wore a cyan-ribbed, black herdon-leather jacket and pants. Ghost's fancy deck was tugged into his hands, definitely on loan. He'd never been through what slicers called a Hardline Anvil, the rite of crafting a custom rig and proving your worth on a high-stakes slice.

Fingers moving faster than thought, he punched up something on the crisp interface. A sharp announcement crackled through the cabin speakers:

DING DUMG DING: Three for two on Bothan Tugwhippers at the transport refreshment droid. About thirty percent louder than it needed to be. The snoring stopped. He shoved some loud, over-paced music in his ears—something he could have done from the start. Frag it, the little anarchist in him kind of wanted to wake the guy up anyway. Sickle's influence.

As they closed in on their destination, he peeled back his tunes. The landing sequence kicked in, passengers shifting and getting ready to exit. He gave Delila a sideways look. "You know my handle. What do I call you?" Not the tag they'd fed the system, what they wanted to be called. Frag the rules or protocols. People first. He'd follow where she led on the op from the start, but who was the operator?
 
Last edited:
"You ever run it?" Like one planet's district, and one broken-down oversized mall was the center of the universe. "Sprawl like that teaches you quick to hustle or ghost."

At this, Delila gave a quick, sharp laugh. She was always amused by folks who thought her life as a soldier meant she enjoyed high adrenaline activities. Or would be good at such things such as piloting and running mazes on a speeder bike or just anything with a high amount of thrill and hand-eye coordination.

"I'm still alive, so no. I can barely pilot so I don't typically do anything risky. Hazard of being in the military for ages - someone has always flown me around the most part."


Shoulders shrugged. She could fly but anything fancy? That wasn't in her wheelhouse but she still needed a vessel. Hence why they were out and planning on liberating one for her use. She couldn't do it on her own and it was cheaper to pay the kid to help than to buy a vessel legitimately. Picking up a Talon-O off her shirt, she popped it into her mouth, thinking.

"Don't need a handle, you can call me by my name. Delila or Dells. Depends on your mood."
Head inclined to those shifting around, getting ready to get off the transport. "Look at these idiots, thinking we're going to deboard faster. Give it a minute, we'll be the last to exit then we can find where we need to be from there."

GhostKey GhostKey
 
"Yeah, we’ve got a girl who flies us around too. But don’t you ever miss it? Hands-on the controls, thrusters screamin' on full, punchin' in a heading, just.. doing what you want to do, and going with whatever comes?" He made a takeoff motion with his hand.

Music blared in his ears, and when Delila turned to speak again, he pulled free an earpiece to listen.

"Dells." He grinned wide. Weird—actually talking to a person and not an alias—felt like he was always dealing with monikers and ghost-tags. Almost giving her his name as well, almost, but he held it back.

"Look at these idiots, thinking they’ll deboard faster. Give it a minute. We’ll be the last ones off, then we’ll find where we need to be." She’d said

Ghost shifted in his seat, fingers restless, knee bouncing, rapid taps against the deck plating. Waiting was a foreign concept to someone who lived at lightspeed, it physically pained him to sit still in this crowd till the end! Not when he knew the next job was right here around the corner. Watching the flow of bodies shuffle toward the exit, he hadn’t been idling, waiting till they weren't overheard.

He handed over a keycard, then kept a second, decent enough forgeries. "These should slip us past their outer door. Won’t crack their inner security, but it’ll get us inside their hangar. Then the ship’s another problem." One he told himself he could handle. Foot pressed down, fingers flexing, eyes scanning. Too much downtime made him itch. About to jack in and search for ship models and more info through the holonet, as if he never put it down and used his actual eyes anymore.

Her job, her calls. The young thrillseeker was set to follow a wiser tempo for once. And little known to him, she was already a good counterbalance of maturity, experience, and common sense. Where she led, she could assume the young slicer followed.

Delila Castillon Delila Castillon
 
Delila raised an eyebrow, staring at the kid as he spoke about racing and flying at high speeds. She elected not to say anything as she never indulged in such activities. Youth was certainly wasted on the young. Of course, don't remind her she did idiotic things she did in her younger years but that was here nor there.

Pocketing the keycard, there was a small nod.

"I'm not concerned too much about the shipyard. Getting us in is most important." She paused, looking around before speaking again. "Let's go, its clear enough."

Standing, Delila stretched a little and slipped her knapsack onto her back in one smooth, practiced motion. They were some of the last out of the transport as the cleaning crew started to enter to do a sweep. The redhead gave a small nod to the attendant as they exited into the terminal. She hadn't been here before and it took a moment to get her bearings. Off to the left they started to walk, quiet for a second before speaking again.

"So, you have done this before? Or anything similar? I have...one and half times? Twice? I mean, like on my own. Military was a completely different story, we tend to call that 'liberation' in the same of peace and security. No one questions you until decades later on that front, if at all."

GhostKey GhostKey
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom