99 Problems (ORC Podrace Raid - ATTN TGE)

[Jorus Merrill]

TATOOINE
MOS ESPA ARENA

“Y’know, I'm not really in the mood for this. Today's the kind of day I'd rather hang out with Alna and Mara, tweak a speeder I've been restoring…” Jorus looked up from the blaster pistol he was assembling from spare parts. The small and dirty room under the bleachers had served every purpose. Today it was a gathering point for Undergrounders and ORC operatives who'd snuck into Mos Espa.

“...but we're not here because it seems like fun. Job to be done. A lot of the Empire's local support on Tatooine hinges on this lady Venera Stamoss - shipping magnate, water merchant, fingers in every pie.” The field expedient blaster clicked together and vanished into his clothes. He set up a rusty little holoprojector to display the podrace arena. “Stamoss has a private viewing platform, open-air, near the Hutt platforms. There's a rumor she might be a witch of one kind or another, and she'll have guards. Maybe Imperials. Fortunately, the race is going to start in maybe five minutes, so you'll have some distraction cover. Get up there, get her, do what you do, don't shoot anyone that doesn't need it, and I'll pick you up.” He slapped the rusty flank of a repossessed hovercar.

“I know some of you aren't too comfortable with kidnapping. I'm not either, but like I said, we're not here because it sounds like fun.”

 

[Subject 37]

Mos Espa - City Limits

Valerie stood quietly on the edge of the city limits of Mos Espa, thanking whatever deity watched over her that the armor she was currently wearing had environmental controls inside of it.

Tatooine was a planet that no one should ever visit, no one should ever live on. Massive deserts, no oceans, and two suns made it nothing but an inhospitable hellscape that even the most idiotic being in the galaxy should be able to recognize as a place one wouldn't want to live on. Of course, despite this set of facts people still insisted on living here. She didn't really understand it, nor did she want to. Everyone she spoke to here was either drunk, high, or attempting to kill her.

They were scum, every single last one of them.

So that begged the question of what they were actually doing here. The answer was a simple one, and had nothing to do with the ORC's plot to kidnap some merchant. The Venom Guard had been dispatched to Tatooine to chase after a criminal. The man had stolen something of value from one of the Empire's Moff's, and said Moff had just enough influence to see to the deployment of Valerie had her squadron.

The mission was proving to be an extremely boring one, mostly because the smuggler had been idiotic in just where he'd turned to for safe passage. His contacts had all given him up, and Venom had managed to trace his path to Tatooine, and then quickly towards Mos Espa itself.

All they were waiting for now was an informant to give them his last known location, and from there they would seize him and hopefully what he'd stolen.

The entire thing bored Valerie out of her mind, but it was the way of things. The moff had had enough pull to send Venom, but not enough to send Inferno. It was one of those little things, one of the slashes of truth that irked the young Lieutenant beyond all belief. She was a soldier for the Empire. She was supposed to be out there killing Jedi and hunting down dissident, not patrolling useless desert worlds for thieves and liars. She scowled, not feeling at all like her usual self.

This place didn't even have a decent beach to tan on.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Valerie Rein"]



Legs stretched out in front of him in the small, dingy room. He was listening to Merrill's speech about kidnapping being an unsavory business. The other man kept mentioning it didn't seem 'fun' to kidnap a merchant. Judah hoped Merrill was speaking for himself. The potential to get out and kidnap someone seemed one of the most thrilling ideas that anyone had pitched to him in ages.


Not that Merrill had pitched the idea to him. He was already on-planet for the auction, staying at the Arceneau Compound and enjoying the desert heat. Reminded him of his boyhood home in a way. Jorus just so happened to mention the little job to him in passing and he immediately jumped aboard.


He had no idea who this merchant was. Personally Judah had never dealt with her or at least knowingly dealt with her in the past. If she was as big of a deal as Jorus mentioned security was growing to be crawling all over the place. It wasn't easy to kidnap business types - they were already used to the constant threat in their lives.


"What kind of speeder have you been restoring?"


Completely off topic but he hadn't talked to Merrill in some time. Still hadn't caught up on everything - why did his friend look younger, the popularity of the Salvage magazine, raising half-human kids that stood to inherit the complexity of their parent's surnames - you know, normal stuff.


Judah stood to stretch, taking the entire 'five minutes til podracing' sentence as a reminder they should probably think about getting a move on.

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Mos Espa Arena
Private Viewing Platform

"Of all the places to be stranded," muttered Fabian, sitting in the viewing platform with the rest of his crew, out of earshot of Stamoss, who had been kind enough to invite them to watch the races.

"Well, Captain," began Ensign Wills, "Not every day an Imperial war ship is in port for repairs on Tatooine."

War ship was a stretch for the Fatigable, a 50 meter long Intersector-class sloop. The chief engineer told him the repairs would not take more than a few days.

Still, Wills had a point, they should try to enjoy it while they could, but Tatooine was awful. The sweltering heat left Fabian dripping in his uniform. All in all, Fabian could not wait to get back to the cramped, overcrowded interior of his vessel.

"True enough. It looks like they're about to begin."

[member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Valerie Rein"] | [member="Judah Dashiell"]

 

[Anjin Kent]

“We choose to serve.”

So DT-1600 quelled mutiny and settled Zeta-1 into assignment. The six men and women were bolt-holed in a converted safe house now rigged with a refurbished console array granting them broader surveillance through Mos Espa’s tight, untidy merchant quarters and through a neighboring shanty-town nestled close to the arena venue. Quarters were a sole living space, a narrow kitchen, a privy that was questionably functional, sparse furniture, all settled on a rough throw-rug that had not been cleaned in the past century. The Death Troopers of squadron Zeta-One kept from sprawling, either hunched over the console banks, cleaning kit, or simply waiting in a half-awake meditative mode that Anjin encouraged since squad formation.

Temperatures were rank hot, and despite on-board thermal regulation, a brassy odour permeated the closed-in house. Anjin raked through his hair and regarded a grainy video pict showing the Arena’s south quarter. Civilian traffic was nominal, and predictably untoward. A hundred ‘curious’ characters had passed along, under unknowing scrutiny, Zeta-Lead cancelling squad requests for ‘pick up and interview’ on a few choicier profiles. He allowed natural complaints over their surveillance tasks. If outside interests did not interfere with Ms. Stamoss’ stewardship on Tatooine, local forces would buck and grate in turn. What did Imperial authorities gain in keeping the system leashed? Ahhh, Anjin thought, Tatooine attracts its own brand of culture and sees fit to manage its own affairs without overt Imperial influence. They enforce their own unspoken hierarchies. We’ll never keep the settlements under thumb and anyway, does not ATC keep a branch of headquarters here? Do they not have the means to police and circumvent the worst local elements? There’s a loathing here that’s scared to break the surface tension. And the heat saps both courage and gumption.

“Sir,” Four-One sounded. Anjin broke from reverie, sliding his helm over his matted scalp. He leaned over a singled out pict feed.

A nondescript speeder with nondescript aftermarket modification had ripped through a handful of intersections, slicing through foot and slower ‘pulsor traffic. His brow knotted, noting the pilot had swerved deliberately through camera blind-spots and audio dead zones. Anjin pinged Six-Two and Six-Three, shouldering his E-11D, rechecking harnesses and kit.

“Four-One, you have the watch,” He said, slinging on a mottled sensor-cloth poncho and a shemagh wrap around his helmet. Six-Two and Six-Three followed him out into a small back courtyard of sandstone and adobe brick, Anjin leading to and mounted aboard a narrow four-seater hover-craft. He drifted them out into Mos Espa, following after the mark. Midday heat cooked the dust and puddled the air with mirages of shimmering rain.

[member="Fabian"] | [member="Judah Dashiell"] | [member="Valerie Rein"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond C’artyom sat atop the arena bleachers with a pair of spie glasses. He idly lifted the magnification glasses to his face and peered down at the racers below. As usual Inferno One accompanied him. Their uniforms and weapons that marked them as elite troopers were left behind today, instead opting to dress in civilian attire. That’s not to say that they were not armed. Each trooper had a holdout verpine shatter pistol tucked into his waist and were well versed on how to use them. On a place such as Tattoine it was foolish to go unarmed.

Desmond had graciously provided his old pod “Christine” to be used by the Imperial sponsor in the race. He smiled as he watched the young pilot marvel at the pod before entering the cockpit. It was fast and sleek, fueled by isotope 5, probably the fastest pod on the track. Desmond and his squad were in the same shaded booth as miss Stamoss. Several guards patrolled the bleachers discreetly and Desmond wondered if they were really necessary. He knew Mos Espa could be dangerous, but he doubted such a show of force was required. Perhaps the woman sought to intimidate the Baron, or perhaps she was simply paranoid.

Desmond merely shrugged and went back to watching the racers prepare themselves. As he did so he spied another Imperial who did not seem to be handling the heat very well. Desmond smirked a little and grabbed a glass of water from a nearby tray. He walked out of the booth leaving his squad behind and approached the group of Imperials.

“Hello, I thought you might be thirsty,” The Chiss said nonchalantly to the officer. “My name Is Desmond C’artyom. Though my friends call me Des,” He paused a bit as he rubbed his chin, then with a thumb pointed to the booth behind them “Care to join me in my private booth, the AC is on the fritz, but at least it’s shaded,”

[member="Fabian"] / [member="Judah Dashiell"] / [member="Valerie Rein"] / [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Captain August]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

He was here under cover, as training exercise with some of other housecarls. They where not in the heavy power armour, just basic local gear they could get their hands on to blend in. Sure the main gear was in the ship, but this was a walk in park exercise. Turn up keep an eye on Merill, and cover his back when needed. They did have thul infantry balsters on them, as well as good selection of grenades. The idea was to see how well they where at close protection, when the person they where protecting did not now they where around. They hid their weapons under the capes, which where coloured same shade as sand to help keep the heat off. There where twenty five of them in total including him, and he had one men keeping an eye on him through some binoculars.

How did he know what he was upto, it was job to keep track of anyone of note, who had contact with [member="Elaine Thul"] and he had a connection to her. So he kept a tab on him, for security reason, and what not. This was more training exercise for them, keep an eye on him unless all hell broke loose, then ether help or walk away, as he was big boy, and he got himself into the mess, trying to kidnap someone. They where being very discreet about it, as he did not want the TGE to know he was here.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

"What kind of speeder have you been restoring?"

"Eh?" Jorus blinked and looked up from the holoprojector as Judah stood. "Oh, you'd love it, Jude. It's an old Daw Motors number, one of the original Auzzies - AUS-ute model. Same kind I used to drive in the Vagrant Fleet. Not as fast as this sucker I found-" He patted the stolen speeder's flank again. "-but a metric fethton more reliable."

The announcer's digitized whine percolated down through the arena's service tunnels. Cheering rushed after it. The other Undergrounders started winding down their prep. Game time. He glanced around the room, face to face, and pocketed the holoprojector again. "Force be with ya, folks. Announcer's doing the intros. Better get moving. If you don't get in position in time, wait until the racers come around for the start of the second lap, maybe six or seven minutes on this circuit. That's when the most motion and noise and distraction will be happening."

The Undergrounders - a motley crew - started making their way up through the tunnels, and Jorus hopped into the speeder.

"Which way you headed, Jude?"


[member="Valerie Rein"] [member="Fabian"] [member="Anjin Kent"] [member="Captain August"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

For the first time in her life, Dunames entered the Boonta Eve Classic. To be there, racing in the venue where the legends of the sport toiled, includng Anakin Skywalker, Sebulba, Boles Roor, felt unreal to her. Winning the Lanteeb Grand Prix and, more recently, the Phu-Phuii Classic, proved to be stepping stones. Her victory in the Phu-Phuii Classic was even more remarkable because, unlike the Lanteeb Grand Prix, which she won while not starting from the last line on the starting grid, such was the case on Phu. This year around, she was one of the few First Order racers to actually compete in the race. With the support team accopanying the rider, using a flight suit given by the First Order on Thakwaa, the Gyaban 787 is being placed into position towards the starting grid as Dunames began putting on the riding suit that she wore during the Phu-Phuii Classic. Hopefully may she never have to use the F-Webs to shoot down opposing racers... and the flag parade is still about 5 minutes away. Yet near the starting line, this years's favorites were taking up positions prior to the beginning of the race proper and then the flag parade can take place.

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

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Tatooine​

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A Bounty Hunter was a common sight on Tatooine, plenty of bounties were consistently active and the pay was always just fine. Nothing extravagant, but always something relatively commendable. Though Imperials were an odd site at a Pod Race, and Fett couldn't quite shake the feeling he was followed. Sure, he had his contract to fulfil but that had been done and it was almost everywhere that he went an Imperial wouldn't be too far behind. However, it hardly ever affected him enough to warrant a decent reaction. Instead, he carried on with his hunt.

Koda was capable of giving the security, no matter how tight, the slip and enter the pits alongside the Droids, Racers and their Crew. A specific bounty had been put out and it was too kill a Rodian by the name of Thweek during his race. An odd demand but one Fett abided to nonetheless. Whilst venturing around this smaller space, avoiding any direct confrontation he found a Jawa, easily persuaded with a hint of credits. Upon being offered them and a thermal detonator, it made it's way towards the Pod Racer of Thweek, planting such a device specifically where it had been told; the chariot esque seat of it.

Fett himself retreated back into the stands, his detonator at the ready. Thweek was doomed from the start, though he only had himself to blame. Nobody owed money to the Hutt's and go away with it for too long now now did they?

 

[Loto Afu]

Before Jorus could set off the shadow of a warrior came up from behind him. He would also race but his mission was not to win, but rather act as the undergrounds "heavy".

"Got your six boss, any troopa's try and mess with ya i'll split their wigs or rip their arm off their body and beat em like an Ewok on Endor."

Lofa pointed over to the ride he would be flying in the race, a real scrap beast befitting of the outback.

"Ride'n in the "Sinner" today, fast as feth piece of sickness made by Bryce man, fething death trap, gonna be sweet brotha!"

Lofa was not what you would call stable, or even sane. But for this mission he would be perfect, loyal to a fault, takes orders without question. Most of all tough as nails and a man who loves a fight. He climbed into the twin engine metal beast, and as the engines roared to life he began to laugh like the mad hatter at a tea party.

"Time to slash and bash brotha, lead on Jorus!"

[member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Judah Dashiell"]

 

[Jada Raxis]

[member="Loto Afu"]- [member="Jorus Merrill"]- [member="Judah Dashiell"]

What was left of the Free Peoples Navy from Rothana was still with her, and they had made quite a little name for themselves. After a bloody defeat at Rothana, Jada had sworn vengeance on the Empire, whom had taken her home and killed many of her friends. Naturally they found themselves passing through Alliance Territory, as a band of refugees and then into the fringes.

Hiding in the Outback.

So it was only fair that the warden do her part. She fanned out with her Co-Pilot from the Quantum Runner. A bith named Talor and began to move into posistion in the crowds. Merrill had given them the signal and the place. She was aiming to hit from below, jumping up a few hundred meters into the platform and providing whatever support was needed.

Talor for once was wielding a fire arm, a heavily modified .44 Revolver.

She crinkled her nose at him, in disapproval.

"There's no ship hulls to go through this time. Stop being such a spoil sport."

She nodded. He was right.

"Fine. Just don't hit me with that thing when the shooting starts."

She flexed her Shock Gloves, and readjusted her gray dusters jacket over her Echani Fiber weave. Then she glanced up at the viewing platform, and back to the track, waiting for the Racers to complete lap one....

 

[Subject 37]

"Ma'am."

Valerie picked her head up as one of the other troopers approached her. Like she, he was completely and entirely covered in sand. The white armor striped with small bands of green was entirely filthy, more beige than it's original plaster. She frowned for a moment as she saw it, not because she really minded the fact that it was dirty but more because it was another reminder that they were currently located on this miserable dirtball of a world. A fact that she was really not happy about.

There were a dozen places she would rather have been. "Out with it."

She sounded impatient, though Valerie knew that the man behind the other helmet would just smirk. Venom had a way of irking it's superior officers, mostly running them through the gambit before they found any sort of acceptance. Valerie had only taken charge a few weeks ago, and although she'd already lead them through several raids it was apparent that the core of the squad still didn't quite accept her as one of their own. She was fine with that of course, she wasn't here to make friends.

"He's not here."

"What." Her voice was plain with distaste.

"It seems he escaped off-world, Hutts helped him."

Valerie's expression grew dark. The information they had placed the Smuggler right here, now she was being told he'd somehow made it off world? Oh no. No no. That wouldn't do that all. For a moment she wrung her hands around the grip of her blaster rifle, clenching her eyes shut and feeling the need to pinch the bridge of her nose. "You're really ruining my mood here, Echo."

In all fairness it wasn't just him.

"Here I was expecting to throw on a bikini and do a little sunbathing, enjoy myself." Ugh. "Now I learn this schmuck got sent off world by a Hutt, probably headed towards some disgusting swamp world in the ass end of the galaxy."

Which Tatooine already was. "Just fucking great."

Venom had no luck.

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

MOS ESPA ARENA
PRIVATE VIEWING PLATFORM


"So ya see, it's not the spice or the blasters or the battle droids wot run things here. They're all pawns. Nuffin compared to water." Venera Stamoss said to Moff Balfour as he sat in the private platform of the Mod Espa arena. Others of the Moff Council had sniggered and laughed that Balfour had been assigned to deal with the Mogul. Some sort of joke, perhaps orchastrated by High Moff Malvern or Grand Moff Graf, though Balfour somewhat doubted he was on either's hit list. More than likely another moff was upset at the production of the 7A&C and had pulled a favor to get him on duty.

Whoever it was, they would come to regret it.

"Your influence is greatly appreciated by the Empire." Balfour responded to the woman, though it was a bit of a stretch. "However, your proposal is being met with some scrutiny." He said, and the woman scoffed.

"They don't know just how much of this rock is under my finger. Would the Empire rather replace all of the infrastructure I've created?" She responded with a bit of bite to her tone.

"Definitely not. I've noted your capabilities to others in the council, but, well, others question your potential for growth. They think you're at the top of your game, and don't think Tatooine can grow to benefit the Empire." Balfour responded, voicing his own concerns with as much tact as he could muster.

"Bantha fodder. The Boonta Eve Classic alone will bring revenue to the Empire. See how the day goes, how the prople cheer, how many come and trade." Venera responded. Balfour merely took a sip from a provided glass of water, 'luxuriously' filled with ice.

"Rest assured Ms. Stamoss, I will be watching closely."

[member="Fabian"] [member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Anjin Kent"] [member="Valerie Rein"] [member="Judah Dashiell"] [member="Jada Raxis"] [member="Loto Afu"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Dunames Lopez"] [member="Captain August "][member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Captain August]

Sorta Allies: [member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Jada Raxis"] [member="Loto Afu"] [member="Judah Dashiell"]
Sorta Enemies: [member="Vilhelm Balfour"] [member="Valerie Rein"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Dunames Lopez"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Anjin Kent"] @Fabian

Captain August turned to one of his men, and asked So how far has Merill and his cohort got?
The corporal checked his information he had, I say he is setting up, and start his moves in two minutes, once these pod racer finish the second lap.
Captain August smiled and replied, Yeah when most these people begin cheering, and the dirty play hand book comes out of the pod racers.
This would be when the most noise would be made by crowd, and trouble breaks out, giving local security more issues to deal with.
The corporal then asked So what point do we help Merill?
He laughed, and said He is a big boy, we only help him if he fails and gets arrested, as it be unfortunate for him to be executed, and imperials like showboating.
The corporal then remembered Coruscant, when they did not ask question, and just mowed down the sith and their experiments.
They did not want prisoners to hold them up, nor did they care, as they deserved it. He smiled and remembered this Empire was aligned to force that vong formed Alderaan.
Got it we only doing something if he fails.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

With several podcasters for different media outlets being in the press gallery, including Althea and Karine for the First Order State Media, and, of course, the typical Troig for the Imperial media, the 12 runners for this year's edition began to align their flags in preparation for the big race. Much like in one of those holo games where podracing is part of its plot. To Dunames, the finish line area was mostly the same as the one she encountered on the Phu-Phuii Classic, but outside of the finish line, nothing could be more different. Hopefully I will be avoiding the curse that plagued other races I ran: in the past, it's either I run the race to victory or I don't finish, she thought, while the other competitors' flags were being paraded around on the finish line, in order. When the turn of Dunames' flag arrived, it was about time for those First Order podcasters to actually announce the racer that they viewed as their darling, even though her accomplishments as a podracer are still not quite "there". With [member="Loto Afu"]'s flag being slated to go next...

"From the First Order, we have Dunames Lopez, the winner of the Lanteeb Grand Prix and the Phu-Phuii Classic!"

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Judah Dashiell"] [member="Loto Afu"]

Jorus revved his speeder. It wasn't a racer, not by a long shot, but it would do fine for the whole overwatch/getaway driver thing. Now that [member="Jada Raxis"] and the other Undergrounders were in position, he'd need to get moving too. Sometime in the next handful of minutes, they'd be swooping in on the private viewing box, and they'd really need an evac.

"Good luck on the race, Loto. Do me a favor and keep your comm on. When things get going, I'll pop you a signal and you can make a distraction. Your pod'll be solid for that. Afterward, just hightail it off the track and rendezvous with me at the freighter by the edge of town. Sound good?"

Normally, he preferred a whole lot more organization to his plans, but that was the price of working with a lot of people from a lot of backgrounds. Besides, something something no plan survives contact with the whatever.

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"Hullo Des, Lieutenant Fabian, or just plain Fabian," the blond haired, green eyed officer smiled back at the Chiss. "These noble officers are Ensigns Wills and Kylligan."

Chiss were still a rare enough sight in the galaxy compared to other species. Their isolationist policies had not changed much since the gulag plague, but for whatever reason the blue-skinned, red-eyed folk who left their home space tended to gravitate toward imperial regimes.

"Water sounds lovely, thank you. Ah, they're starting."

The podracers revved their throttles, drowning out all else with the roar of their thunderous engines. Fabian's eyebrows rose appreciatively.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Loto Afu"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Jada Raxis"]


"Which way am I headed? Isn't that the big question in life?"


There was a chuckle at his own lame observation.Not wanting to quite get in the way on the viewing platform, Judah instead got in the passenger side of the speeder. There was a thought that he would might be needed during the entire evac process - either to provide cover fire or to provide a distraction of some type. Organization was a bit loose on this job it seemed and he didn't feel like being caught in the potential cross fire in the VIP section of the arena.


"I'll tag along and watch your back. Might be a good idea to have a second set of eyes watching the local flora and fauna."


Judah rested against the cracked leather backrest, deciding it might be best to look casual rather than looking like he was about to spring out of the speeder at any second. They were going to have enough problems in a few minutes, best not get pulled over and questioned on the way there.

 

[Formorta]

It seemed someone was butting into her hunting ground, not surprising, Tatooine had a lot of contacts to go for, many to kill, much to make. Normally she should not really care if some on went after a bounty that was also in her line of sight, but when someone as well-known as [member="Koda Fett"] did, she views it as a challenge. The arguably best bounty hunter in the Galaxy, had stopped by to go after a Rodian she also had an eye on, planting a thermal detonator on his pod racers, most likely rigged to exploded upon its engine starting. A common practice, most would assume that the cause of said future explosion would be from engine failure, they were all too common, but said explosion would not happen if Thweek never reached his racer.

from atop of some private booth she surveyed the area through her sniper rifles scope, the only thing hinting to her presences was a slight shimmer in the sunlight from her cloaking field as her cross hair hovered over the Mando as he stealthy walked away. 'Just like the last, though he seems to have beska instead or cortosis armour'. She felt temped to take a pot shot at the man, but didn't want to start trouble with the Galactic Empire, just yet, for now she would sit still concealed in the same spot she had rested in for the last 2 days, having gotten here well in advanced, patiently waiting for her chance to strike.

The moment the Rodian even showed his face, he would be dead, well before getting close to that pod racer, 'I wonder how pissed off he will be'?