99 Problems (ORC Podrace Raid - ATTN TGE)

[Desmond C'artyom]

Des listened patiently as Fabian introduced himself and his comrades. The Chiss smiled as he sat down, the booths shade providing ample cover for them all. A moff was in attendance. He and Stamoss spoke about nothing in particular in the same booth as the rest of them. Desmond grated his teeth as the obnoxious women spoke loud enough to drown out even the announcer. The Chiss found trying to watch the race to be most difficult as the woman droned on about the water trade. He was only thankful her attention was on the Moff and not him. Desmond ignored the pair to the best of his abilities and turned his attention once more to Fabian.

“I have a pod in the race. It’s the black one, with the Csillian beauty painted across its engines,” Desmond stated merrily. “I would usually partake in such an advent myself, but Lady Stramoss insisted I sit with her…” Desmond shook his head. The woman truly was paranoid. “Have you ever tried your hand in racing?” Des asked Fabian as he once again raised the spy glasses to his face and peered out at the track.

(Ooc: Am mobile, so links will go here. Pod: http://starwarsrp.net/topic/98 )

[member="Fabian"]

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

"So, who's going to win Ms. Stamoss?" Balfour asked nonchalantly.

"Excuse me?" The water mogul replied with some concern.

"The viewing platform at our ten o'clock is servicing a Hutt Dignitary. Qunalaac Kajidic, if my knowledge of the subject is adequate. The one at our seven o'clock is held is staffed largely by Falleen. The quality of the platform indicates wealth, and wealth implies power. Remnants of the old Black Sun if I had to bet. To our twelve across the arena is a less wealthy cartel. Local in scale I'd wager. None of these groups appeared by chance did they?" Balfour continued.

"The group at our twelve are the Black Banthas. They're one of the larger Gun Runners this side of Mos Eisley. More balls than brains those ones, they ain't much." Veneca said with a tone of derision.

"You did particularly well at avoiding my question Ms. Stamoss. The Hutts, the Black Sun, and your Gun Runners aren't going to interrupt their business for a pod race they have no stake in. This is an opportunity for them to exert their influence on the other. Sabatoge the races, the racers, and take the other's money. There's no question the game's rigged. Just who rigged it well enough." Balfour responded, then a blaster was fired and race began.

Stamoss didn't answer, and instead remained in thought. Her bid for increased Imperial presence and her own ascension to Moffhood was not going well.

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

 

[Jorus Merrill]

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

Five long minutes passed, and then several things happened in quick succession.

The podrace's starting light went red, yellow, green.

The crowd gave a massive roar.

A team of Underground operators in local garb climbed into Madame Stamoss' viewing platform. They began unloading stun weapons in the general direction of Stamoss, Balfour, and Fabian.

Jorus and Judah's speeder, back behind the stadium, hit a ramp and overcharged its repulsors and wound up on top of the viewing platform's stone roof. From the speeder's controls, Jorus could just see the edge of the platform, and the last couple of Undergrounders climbing over from the stands.

 

[Loto Afu]

His pod engines roared like two great rancors as he approached the line. Made from the fusal engines of an old tramp freighter they were designed for a medium sized commerce vessel and somehow Bryce had re-purposed them to pull a little pod at break neck speeds.

Loto wasn’t itching for a fight, no he was still thinking on what Jorus had said. “Wait for my signal then cause a distraction…”

No many thoughts were now swirling around the overzealous warrior of the gate. Bryce and his “pacifist” ways were so foreign to Loto but he respected the great chief. Still he did love his toys and this pod had a bunch he could use… Glop rounds, glitter grenades, holo projectors, smoke grenades, grav mines, and more he would have plenty to use. The only question was what, and when.

Antsy he looked over at Jorus as he drove by, his hand itching for some action he waited with a madman's anticipation for the signal, he only need a signal. But what would it be? As he waited he began to make preparations, along with doing all the normal engine check he began to arm the countermeasures on his pod. Once back in his pod’s seat he made all final check and also took a few moments to add some select images into the holo projectors.

Engines around him began to rev as the final announcements were made and the race about to begin. As the lights began to change from red to green he looked over at Jorus for final approval...

Was that it? Jorus just sitting there on top of the stands... Yes that had to be it.

With all the glee of a giddy school girl he pushed the throttle forward and his plan was set in motion. As he accelerated he, instead of following the other racers turned toward the stands and maneuvered toward them. As he passed he targeted the VIP sections and Empire only areas and released round after round of smoke and glitter grenades as he passed having them explode meters over the crowd so the chance of injury from shrapnel wound be very remote.

Laughing like a lunatic he passed close to annoncer who was floating in a pod of their own and using the pods tractor beams pulled the pod in as he passed. Taking the mic from the announcers hand he pressed and activated the holo projectors. Soon a large spinning image of the Empire appear behind him, next to that image was a jawa which was relieving itself on the spoked image.

“People of Tatooine, do not stand by while those in power suppress and steal from you! Rise up, throw off the chains of your oppressors and gain your freedom!”

Disengaging the tractor he turned and followed the other racers who were now some good KM ahead of him or so. Ramming his engines into full burn he hoped to catch at least some of them and survive the Empires reprisal long enough to win the race!

 

[Dunames Lopez]

While the flag parade was over, the three lights above flickered in order, red, yellow and green. So Dunames had to be mindful of not jamming the thrust until she completed the turn, when the race was finally underway. But... wait! Behind her, [member="Loto Afu"] was simply closing in on the stands, and the section close to the press gallery, as opposed to everyone else, who were simply speeding past those. And, since the very first segments were remarkably similar to the Phu-Phuii Classic, she made an attempt to boost before entering the Waldo Flats, where she could seize the opportunity to boost past a runner or two. That is, if someone else using a Plug-3 Leviathan wasn't so intent on attempting to ram her... and then it became a game of cat-and-mouse between the two parties involved. They both relented due to the sharpness of the turns involved in the Flats, making it more practical for Dunames to attempt overtaking the racer in front of her in a tight turn, rather than to use speed for that purpose.

“People of Tatooine, do not stand by while those in power suppress and steal from you! Rise up, throw off the chains of your oppressors and gain your freedom!”

"It appears that one of the podcasters is having trouble with a disgruntled podracer!" Althea commented while the disgruntled podracer was positioned next to her.

 

[Jada Raxis]

Allies: ORC
Enemies: TGE
Location: In yo face! The booth. Hitting Fabian, hopefully.

OOC: There's enough tag's so I'm not tagging anymore.

Jada watched the second lap and then grinned, turning to Talor. He was unprepared for what came next. She grabbed his belt loop.

"What are you doing?"

"I've been gathering all my force energy for just this moment. Plus I want to see if you'll pee yourself buddy!"

She jumped, muscles augmented by a blast of energy that gave her supernatural strength.She sailed up about a hundred meters into the air, and landed just on the railing, tips of her toes trying to keep balance. It was now a precarious situation and the cocky young Warden had over estimated her prowess.

"'Whoa!"

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH" Talor screamed.

She plopped forwards, face first into the concrete and grunted as they both tumbled of the rail. Talor was quick on the draw, coming to a knee. She was faster, recovering and shoving herself up from the ground, a trickle of blood on her face.

"Well that sucked. Alright, let's dance baby!"

Electro gloves whirled to life.

Then she attacked Fabian, leaving Ol Girl for the rest.

Her left foot forwards, right foot back and then a jab, followed by a power hook towards his face....

 

[Zef Halo]

See, politics was a lot like Tatooine podracing. You bet on your pod and you rig the whole game in your favor.

Just like the case with Madame Stamoss. Empire gets in a new place, has to a pick a player and has to make sure they win. Getting Sector Rangers to this chithole abruptly was no coincidence. They'd be enforcing the law not only to keep Stamoss at a winning position against her rivals which stood on similar viewing platforms as her today but also to keep her in check.

A 'pod' can never lead the 'pilot'.

Similarly, Stamoss can never be let in a bargaining position with the Empire.

"Caf?" Came the snorting voice of an Aqualish officer part of Balfour's extended security detail. In his hands a steaming pot of caf.

"Sure." Dagon gestured to his empty cup. His eyes darted from each of the viewing platforms, lingering the most on the platform where the Imperial delegation and Stamoss were.

A Hutt, a shadow of a Vigo, swoop bikers and Stamoss.

The ranger tapped a few buttons on his datapad accessing files on the suspected leaders of these criminal syndicates. He'd get their weak points eventually, it was only a matter of time, and when he did.

He'd break th-

"Shots fired at the Moff!" Panicked voices behind him dashed out of the door of the security box. Since they were part of the extended security detail they were delegated to this box in the upper parts of the standings. Probably a few dozen feet from Stamoss' viewing platform.

Dagon jumped up from his seat spilling the coffee half on the floor and half on his trousers before dashing out, his ion blaster in hand.

Who was crazy enough to hit Stamoss in all this publicity with the Imps around?

His question was answered by a pilot hijacking the announcer's holoconnection.

Yeah.

Sounded like rebels.

:: Attention, Imperial security personnel. Suspected crim-, rebel's a pod pilot in the race. Repeat - rebel is one of the pod pilots. :: He announced over the encrypted security channels of Imperial forces as he paced down after the security personnel towards the chaos of Stamoss' viewing platform.

...and how did these speeders end up on top of that platform?

This move was bold, he admitted to himself.

[member="Loto Afu"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Vilhelm Balfour"] | [member="Fabian"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Judah Dashiell"] | @PeopleIamforgetting​

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"Me? In one of those death contraptions?" Fabian chuckled, "Hardly. I find enough excitement on a warship's bridge. Your pod looks a winner though. We're off."

The pod racers roared. The crowd roared. The band of rebels roared.

Fabian turned, "What-"

Stun bolts of brightest blue chopped out to the brigands' battlecry as they surmounted the platform's walls. Wills dropped without a cry. Kylligan, much to his credit, thrust his body between Fabian and the incoming onslaught. His figure tremored, struck by a quartet, then fell.

Heart racing, Quince Fabian stumbled backwards a step, fear thrilling through a mind racing to comprehend the events. Sweat-slick fingers fumbled at his holster before finally unclasping the flap. No sooner did the sidearm clear the holster, than did a woman vault onto the platform.

All he saw was her fist closing in on his vision, then a pain in his nose so sharp that his eyes watered. Voltage zapped from the shock gloves and through his body, wracking his nervous system and dropping him like the latest Bith Jatzwailer album.

He fell backward, the power hook missing his jaw by mere centimeters, and collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain. Around him he heard the yells of the vagabonds, the disparate cries of the ambushed Imperials, and the slowly dwindling roar of the pod racers. Fabian became acutely aware of the smell of pod racer fuel and the persistent stench of dung from the animals that'd drawn them out.

Clinging to consciousness, the lieutenant raised his sidearm and through tear-blurred vision fired off a pair of shots at [member="Jada Raxis"].

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Vilhelm Balfour"] | [member="Judah Dashiell"]

 

[Jada Raxis]

[member="Fabian"]

Platform
Engaging Fabian

"Chit!" Was about all she got out before a round impacted her sternum. The gray duster jacket did it's job, spacer leather dispersing some of the blast. The Echani Fiberweave glove she wore underneath took the rest. Regardless, he'd scored a good hit with the first bolt, and it burned like a thousand suns. She reckoned she'd have a blister, maybe third degree burn later.

"You little bantha!"

Her left hand snapped on her back, triggering her personal energy shield on her belt. It zapped to life just in time, absorbing the second round, which probably would've gone right between her eyes.

Fething Blasters! This is why. This.​

Her right hand snapped out again. A twin jab ripping towards his body.

The jab earlier had been been effective. She had him on his back too, which was advantageous for her. In true Teras Kasi form, she vaulted forwards and collapsed, trying to get a full mount, knees under his armpits, so she could pummel him....

 

[Lemon]

This wasn't entirely ideal, a simple job that would be over as soon as the first green light showed. If Formorta wasn't able to get the shot off, then Thweek would've gone up in a fiery blaze the instant his Pod Racer had been started. An easy mark, an easy kill. Though from behind him, above and into the stands, the sound of stun bolts being fired. His head quickly pivoted, a scanning pulse ringing out to identify who was there with red silhouettes appearing all around. Imperials were present, already indicated with a blue outline, Fett had already been in the company of a few of these men apparently. The ones marked in the red, however, had not been. With a disgruntled huff, he activated his jetpack and ascended upwards, his vigilant eyes looking through his visor to get a good look at the assailants.

At such a fast pace he raced forwards towards the booth with the aid of his jetpack, though not crashing through or anything quite as brash. Instead he landed behind it's entrance, standing in the doorway with his carbine raised. He took aim and fired at the nearest ORC attacker, squeezing down on the trigger and releasing a trio of bolts that would most likely hit it's target. Imperials paid well, and he was sure to be paid extra on top of his already exorbitant fees.

 

[Formorta]

Just as [member="Koda Fett"] had predicted Formorta did not miss, she never missed, the main reason she was arguably the deadliest sniper in the outer rim. As the Rodian left the shelter of the pits, to attended his pod she noted a slight worry in their eyes though her cope, he knew a bounty was on him, probably though that a pod race would be safe, no one would try anything here, even more so with the GE around. She would not have been surprised if the little man had used this as a change to try and run away, leave the track halfway through the race and head to the other side of the planet... but not even that would have saved him, if you had a bounty on your head, and Fomrota was on world, you were pretty much dead.

As soon as the he was out of site from onlookers, heading behind a stack of droids and scape on his way to the pods, it was over. With the slight movement of her fingers a steel jacket hard point rounded entered his head, the sound of the shot muffled by the engine from other pod racers, though skilled person would be able to not the district sound of a gun going off. Sure, she could have silence her weapon, but this was a statement more so, ‘This is my turf, and no one escapes my eyes’.

Though one racer down the games began unimpeded, things returning to normal, as if nothing had happened, but that would not last for long. The sound of stun blasters going off echoed not far away, around where she had set up shop with the sniper, something possibly worth investigating, as these types of things usually lead to a nice pay check, and fighting experiences.

[member="Fabian"] l [member="Jada Raxis"]

 

[Vilhelm Balfour]

The lights turned green. The pods jumped to life. The crowd roared, newly invigorated. And a swoop bike jumped off of a building, aiming at getting to the platform.

"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" A weequay guard cried with little subtlety or tact. Balfour dived for cover, able to do so safely due to one of his security crew taking a hit. Stamoss was far quicker than he, having pulled a blaster out from somewhere in her dress and returned fire on the Undergrounders. Balfour in the meantime pulled his sidearm from the side of his belt and came up to return some fire, aimed at [member="Jorus Merrill"]. Balfour wasn't a soldier, but he was a decent shot, at least on the range. His nerves kept him from firing completely straight, but perhaps he'd hit something critical on the swoop if not it's driver. In between volleys he hit his communicator.

"DT-1600 ([member="Anjin Kent"]) We are underfire on the main platform. Require reinforcement and probably pick up, double time." Balfour ordered.


Elsewhere [member="Loto Afu"]'s speech had not gone unnoticed, and Stamoss was not above rigging the race herself. One or two of the racers in there were just decoys, put in to take out people who'd crossed her the wrong way. Seeing as Stamoss was on the Imperial payroll, Afu now found himself on this list. As he continued on a Trandoshan pilot's pod would spring some vibrosaws on it's side, and try to cut at either Afu's pod's or Afu's cables, whichever he could manage. If neither of those worked, well, he might have had a hold-out blaster snuck into his cockpit.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Dagon Mor"] [member="Judah Dashiell"] [member="Valerie Rein"] [member="Captain August "][member="Dunames Lopez"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Formorta"] [member="Jada Raxis"]

 

[Subject 37]

[Not tagging, too many people and not directly engaging anyone yet]

Well this whole thing was a bust.

The entire operation turned out to be a complete failure, at least this leg of it. She had come here chasing a fugitive, and it turned out that fugitive had been one step ahead of her. Valerie was entirely sure she'd be getting reamed out about this back at headquarters, not to mention the flak she'd catch from the members of Inferno.

Her face turned sour as her and the others members of Venom stepped into an odd sort of formation.

They began their trek down the streets of Mos Espa, with residents staying well clear. The Empire generally tended to stay away from Tatooine, they held no direct influence here and as such Stormtroopers were a rare sight. Elite troopers like Venom? Well they stood out like sore thumbs. Even the worst criminals tended to look at their feet when they walked by. Most of them weren't afraid of course, rather they were just trying to avoid attention.

Valerie knew that, but she couldn't help but scowl at them. "A few arrests would do this place good."

She mused quietly to herself, a smile breaking out on her face as she thought about throwing half of Tatooine in jail. This planet was a worthless ball of dust anyway, not like anyone would really care if it's population was thrown in a labor camp. Just as her mind began to run wild however an echo resounded through her radio, a call of reinforcements. In an instant her back stiffened and the grip on her rifle tightened, she motioned to her squad.

"Heads up!" Her voice was stern. "Venom three through eight head towards the south exit of the arena, nine through twelve head east, Venom get a message to command."

She doubted there were any contingents of the Sector Fleet nearby, but even one cruiser in orbit above Tatooine could stop any dissidents from getting away. "GO!"

They all broke off as ordered, Valerie quickly heading towards the Arena's northern exit.

 

[Anjin Kent]

“Acknowledged.” Zeta-Lead checked his turn down a refuse alley, Four-One, Six-Two, and Four-Five struggling to meet his sprint. He toggled the scrambled channel, calculating a time-table for Moff Balfour’s extraction, summoning Six-Three and Seven-Nine from local surveillance duties. “APC. Now.”

Their safe house was garaged beside a renovated maintenance bay, converted into storage space with a heavy lift housing emergency extraction craft. Nominally, they were reserved for asset or troop use, not at all adequate for transporting Imperial command. Anjin would produce apologies afterward; if DTC did not strip him of Zeta-1 command, if Zeta-1 was allowed to remain in the 3rd DT Command. The Squadron regrouped in the house yard, climbing aboard the Armored Personnel Carrier into the belly bold, Seven-Nine spooling power to the E-Web pods.

“Mos Espa Arena,” Anjin directed. Four-One fastened into pilot canopy, easing the APC’s bulk up and away from the yard. The DT’s buckled into the crash-webbing, rapidly conferencing through helm-to-helm AR feeds. Over-watch had spliced a bare acoustic reading of the arena structure, highlighting the prominent owner’s view-box. Interior and sub-floor mapping was poor.

“What’s that…?” Six-Two murmured.

Anjin glanced over the read. “…Captain Fabian. Prioritize him as well.”

“Stamoss?”

“…We’ll confer with Moff Balfour,” He said, loathing risking Zeta-1 for extracting a tertiary intelligence asset. “Four-One, ETA?”

“Two minutes.”

“Zeta-1, kit check, set for stun.”

“Sir.”

The APC rode ponderously forward, arcing for the arena’s high sandrock arcade walls.

[member="Vilhelm Balfour"] | [member="Fabian"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Jada Raxis"] | [member="Valerie Rein"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond C’artyom grew giddy as the light signaling the pods to set were lit. Red. Yellow. Green. Then they were off, the world seemed to slow for Desmond as he envisioned himself in the cockpit. Felt the booster kick in as he cranked a lever, the thruster heat as exorbitant amounts of power were consumed, and the dust beneath his arse as he left the other pilots in his waking wind. Desmond and Inferno shot out of their seats to cheer.

That’s when a cry brought him out of his stupor.

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” A grizzled looking weequay, one of Stamoss’s goons, cried out.

The alien was immediately racked by stun rounds. Desmond and Inferno turned about, pistols drawn. These verpine weapons had no stun setting, but they were more than capable of piercing many armors. Something the cyborgs would use to their advantage. Desmond himself fired off a couple rounds at [member="Jada Raxis"]. Quickly sighting down the pistols iron divots, Aiming center mass, and squeezing the trigger. He didn't waste time in seeing if the woman went down, Desmond turned to target another.

“Grab the HVT and let’s get out of here. There’s a nearby safehouse,” Desmond cried out.

He was beginning to wish he had brought his armor.

“The Moff sir?” Came the question from Phantom.

“Him too I suppose,” Desmond said as he pulled off another couple rounds then ducked behind one of the bleachers chairs.

The man was not part of the mission prerogatives but if the rebels got a hold of him it could prove a fiasco in itself. Desmond, Phantom, and Spectre began to lay down cover fire while Ghoul and Ghost darted forward to grab hold of Lady Stamoss and Moff Balfour. Desmond’s cybernetic HUD picked out another friendly IFF at the door way. It was Fett. Thank the force , the chiss agent thought as he and his men began to pan towards the door.

[member="Vilhelm Balfour"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

SITUATIONAL OVERVIEW

[member="Loto Afu"] - grandstanding in announcer's booth
[member="Dunames Lopez"] - racing
[member="Jada Raxis"], [member="Fabian"], [member="Vilhelm Balfour"], [member="Desmond C'artyom"], [member="Koda Fett"], Jorus Merrill, [member="Judah Dashiell"] - Stamoss' viewing platform or close enough
[member="Anjin Kent"] - inbound in APC
[member="Valerie Rein"] and team - blocking exits
[member="Formorta"] - bounty hunting

The speeder teetered on top of the viewing platform's roof. It was all Jorus could do to keep it from sliding free - and that was before Moff Balfour's heavy blaster punched a hole in the side panel. Ears ringing, Jorus scrambled to stabilize the repossessed vehicle. The vehicle won.

"Hold on, Jude-"

The speeder slid down the roof and thunked onto the heavy balustrade. That put Jorus and company right beside the ongoing fight. He caught a glimpse of a lot more Imperial operatives than intel had anticipated. A couple of the Undergrounders were down; a couple more jumped into the speeder while dodging heavy fire. "Raxis! Get in!" Jorus snapped.

Then something else snapped. The balcony, to be precise.

A monstrous chunk of stone balustrade flattened a jawa juice cart, narrowly missing its Ishi Tib proprietor. The speeder tipped off the balcony; its repulsors caught it maybe half a metre above the heads of the viewers in the stands. The steeply sloped stands.

Absolutely out of control, the speeder full of Coalition folks careened down toward the podrace track. Spectators threw themselves out of the way. Apart from the tallest, they needn't have bothered.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

The Mushroom Mesa was the perfect opportunity for her to use the boost and to overtake as many of the opposing racers as she could, where she estimated that there were three to five racers she could catch up from her current standing of 6th. If she was lucky not to run into anybody, she could even take the lead by the time they leave the Mushroom Mesa. With [member="Loto Afu"] now clearly out of the running, she needed worry about him no longer. As she jammed the boost in full, she had to watch out for the engine temperature and deactivate the boost by the time she was done using it, while being mindful that one side is separated by a cliff, and another side has rocky, mushroom-shaped formations dotting it. Meanwhile, the First Order podcasters were amused by the dustraction Loto has caused near the grandstands, and they were closely monitoring the cloud of dust behind which there was a Dunames attempting to overtake everybody else in the Mesa:

"Dunames is closing in on the race leaders, leaving other racers to bite the dust!"

 

[Marcus Tritum]

As a boy, Fabian got into a few scraps here and there. The usual schoolyard brawl. Nothing too serious beyond a bloody nose.

The next few moments seared into Quincy’s psyche.

The bolt from his pistol found the mark, but it didn’t matter. In a heartbeat, she was on him, sitting on his gut and pinning him to the ground. She raised her fist. Fabian tried to raise a hand to block. Useless. The first blow rocked his head into the floor and split his lip open. The second busted a gash in his forehead. Blood coursed down his face, but she kept wailing on him like a crazed simian. Electricity from the shock gloves ripped through his system, causing him to jerk and spasm beneath her. He felt like his nerves had caught fire.

A hammerfist struck his right orbital bone and with a gut wrenching crunch it broke. Agony enveloped Fabian and tore away the last shreds of consciousness. Spasms still caused him to flop about like a landed fish as the pummeling continued, but the Lieutenant was no longer present.

[member="Jada Raxis"]

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Judah never quite considered himself 'old' until he had gotten into the speeder with [member="Jorus Merrill"] .Considering the man's driving - or terrible luck while driving - he found himself mentally repeating that he was 'too old for this' more than once. Now that they were getting shot at the situation was getting more sticky. The speeder was a hulk and able to take a few pot shots for now. How long would that last?


Blaster was dug out from the holster on his hip, the one mashed against the panel of the speeder. Hand clenched around it as it seemed they were headed for a crash landing.


"Tuck and roll or is this thing gonna hold?"

 

[Captain August]

He was watching the unfolding events, hoping [member="Jorus Merrill"] and his little task force not bitten off more than they can chew. The local security was scrambling to stop them, he then turned to his men, Okay boy's it is time to begin operation breakout, I know Merrill not been captured yet. Though we need to be in place if he does, also need to help slip away if he can. He then left his booth, and began making his way to security office, where the cctv was as well as uniforms. As they made their way to it, some unfortunate guard decide to stop them.
Who are you, and where you going? He was young officer, clean shaven obviously fresh from the academy.
He simply replied August, and then punched him throat with quick jab, crushing his windpipe. He clutched throat as he began to die from asphyxiation.
His men went for the guns, the one closest to him, he put his thumb into his eye. As he reached for face instead, he then snapped his neck, you could quite easily here the snap of his neck.
His men quickly overwhelmed and killed the rest of this security detail, and did this without a shot being fired, or a noise made.
They put the bodies into a room, stripped them naked so take the uniforms. Then using a key card from one of the bodies, locked the door behind them.
Some of his men know had uniforms, he had one the rest would now hang back.
Then they continued making their way to security office.

[member="Vilhelm Balfour"]