Access Denied

[Kellyn Muir]

Promptly after being granted access to the Collective's data and Network Access' defense grid, Jest took glanced through the various live feeds.
Right as his eyes shifted from one screen, he noticed movement in Bloc 2. Things were starting to look hairy. Jest continued prepare Section-I1465 but they were taken out before he could give the kill order. Only one small problem couldn't be eliminated from the equation - no
matter how quick on the trigger, there still exists that small delay that could be the difference between a life saved and a life taken. Much to his advantage though, he had a helping hand in Malen, another slicer for the Collective.

Now, in coordination with Malen and Xira, Jest's chief goal was to use the automated turret system to repel hostiles Network Access. The turrets opened fire, though their efficacy was reduced given their location further away from their target. He tried not to dwell on the casualties. All he could do was try and keep a cool head and get his people out of this turf war safely. His eyes dashed about the various displays of the blocs, but there was only so much focus one could dedicate to multiple scenes. "Malen, Xira, I'm using my ship's broadcasting beam to limit tracking and targeting assistance." Turret usefulness were already limited, now they're more rudimentary as their targeting systems was muffled.

Fortunately, Collective assets wouldn't be the only one's taking a hit. Compact forces would also be affected, which would help give Collective personnel the out they needed.

"That work for ye?"

​

[member="Sola Tymon"] | [member="Delilah Keyes"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Malen"] | [member="Mara Kellarov"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Ras'Kel'Kanto"]​

​

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Six-O"] | [member="Kael Rose"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"]​

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

NAR SHADDAA
GORBA THE HUTT’S PALACE

[member="Evoros"] | [member="Ar'ekk"]

Tytos, as it happened, was accompanied by a dour looking fellow in a half-mask. Force Sensitive, he assumed, if the lightsaber were anything to go by. Tytos didn't necessarily mind. If so-called Agent Evoros were actually strapped with explosives and ready to detonate, the Sensitive's quick reflexes and danger sense could save them both. And you had better believe such a feat would have saw that man walk off this planet with a tidy fortune. Maybe even a contract offer. But he doubted Evoros was rigged to explode. She would have done it by now, wouldn't she? Or maybe she really wanted to be sure and get these doors out of the way. Fat chance of that happening. Fat chance, indeed!

He removed his finger from the 'talk' button on the intercom and looked at Ar'ekk. "Unbelievable, these people. Do yourself a favor: if anyone ever asks you to represent some decrepit shadow organization in their dealings or hostage negotiations, tell them to triple the pay or walk out. Otherwise it's just not worth it."

The Umbaran rolled his eyes and depressed the 'talk' button once more. Now she could hear him again, unless she was putting her ear to the door with all those thugs out there watching her.

"Given the rate of my people's advances, I'd say you're short more than just one agent. Probably hundreds by now... But if you're here, I assume you're talking about Miss Farr." The lady on the wall. Sure, she was hung up, but Gorba hadn't paid for her yet. Perhaps Miss Evoros had a better offer in mind. "If you'd like her released, you can start by having your remaining friends in Network Access surrender. Unconditionally, that is. You are in a position to tell them to do so, aren't you? Our previous negotiations broke down because Miss Farr lacked any semblance of executive authority."

For her sake, he hoped that wouldn't soon be the case. Otherwise Gorba was going to run out of space on that wall of his.

 

[Janeth Farr]

NAR SHADDAA
Network Access

Jest delivered just in time. The technicians disconnected Xira after she brought herself offline. Now without their artificial intelligence, it was up to the others to execute their plans and get out of there alive. Of course the operatives were part of that plan. What they were doing deep inside was simple: Plant enough thorium charges along superficial walls and blow new entrances into each of the blocs. A crude but otherwise effective means to allow for the transports to bypass any Compact plans to prevent escape through the blocs. And with the jamming place, any auto-targeting or assisted weaponry would find it very difficult to land a shot.

The angels as they were swept low and fast, descending through the smoke and into the large open areas below. The side doors slid open and members of the Network Fireteams stood by to defend. Those hauling Xira's core managed to get it aboard the first such transport in bloc 4. With other essential personnel they began their evacuation effort, the first set of transports already took off and made their way upwards to leave the Network Access behind. Now was the time for everyone else to make their escape.

Across the Access, the loudspeakers announced their intentions. "Transports standing by in each bloc. Do not abandon your lines but withdraw in a defensive formation."

If they all simply rushed for the transports then it would be a slaughter. First the reserves would step forth to relieve the survivors at the front, allowing them to make their way back. It would still be some time before the bulk of them were evacuated. Enough time for the Compact to hinder the Collective's retreat should they have the means and desire to try.

Collective: [member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Wes Rykker"] | [member="Sola Tymon"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Delilah Keyes"] | [member="Faceless"] | [member="Malen"] | [member="Mara Kellarov"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Ras'Kel'Kanto"] | [member="Jest de Rous"]

Compact: [member="Tytos Ardik"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Darth Vulkan"] | [member="Slevin Thawne"] | [member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Kaine's NPCs"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Xian Valart"] | [member="Kael Rose"] | [member="The Prince"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Sturgis Tal'Verda"] | [member="Ruug'la Jag"] | [member="Muad Dib"]

 

[Darth Imperia]

Location: Bloc 3
Objectives: Survive.
Allies: The Collective (In Scene: [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Wes Rykker"])
Enemies: The Compact (In Scene: [member="Slevin Thawne"] [member="Aver Brand"] [member="Loray Tares"])

There was something 818 could almost respect about the HRDs leading the opposition's charge. True, they weren't as strong as she was, or as tough, and they certainly weren't as smart. None of them had her sense of style, either. But damn her if they weren't relentless. Shrapnel, Turret Fire, it didn't matter - they kept coming. Stoic and relentless, the horde of droids made its way forward, completely unopposed. Unopposed, at least, until they had to turn a corner. Because around that bend was a very long, narrow corridor.

And at the end of that hallway was the Welcoming Committee.

Instead of a "Hello," however, the Collective's uninvited guests were welcomed with a pop, and the gentle whistle of a forty millimeter plasma grenade arcing through the air. Turretfire may not have been able to stop the droids, but point blank explosions were a few magnitudes higher on the damage scale.

After the initial explosion, 818 switched off the audio-dampeners in her head, and spoke.

"That was the warning shot."

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

NAR SHADDAA
GORBA THE HUTT'S PALACE

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Kaine's NPCs"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"]

Hearing no response from the noble Blackblade Commander, Clelon went back to overseeing the battle. So far everything had transpired according to his design. Well, sort of. The forces outside of Blocs 1 and 2 were the ones originally attended to draw the Collective's forces. But he had overestimated the brutality and skill of the Equalizers and the Coratanni droid regiment. They had made mincemeat of the more heavily defended Bloc 3 while Blocs 1 and 2 still seemed to be holding. Now instead of committing to Blocs 1 and 2, the Collective were being forced to commit more of their specialists to Bloc 3.Clelon inhaled deeply through the nose. That smell? What was that smell. Not the Hutt body odor. Something different. Something more pungent, wafting up from the blinking red dots that represented the Collective forces on the holomap.

Weakness.

The Toydarian grunted in displeasure. He had smelled it before. Many times on Toydaria, slaughtering revolutionaries who sought to overthrow the rightful King. Back then he had been closer to the frontlines. The smell was different. Weakness smelled like chit, piss, and tears. It was very distinct. One time it had smelled like rain. He remembered watching prisoners of war stumbling weakly through the mud, barely the strength to stand, while his men herded them towards the ditch dug for them. Occasionally off in the distance there were the raports of blaster fire. Volleys. Equally timed. For the groups ahead of the current batch. Down in the ditches they went. Some of them cried. Some of them didn't.

Now weakness smelled like... A cigarra?

Clelon rotated in the air to find one of the Syndicate's advisors was observing the holomap just behind him. And he was smoking a cigarra. Clelon deftly yanked the cigarra out of the advisor's mouth, then flicked him in the forehead. "What are you doing? Did I say you could smoke in here?" Clelon tore it in half and dropped it on the holotable. "Those things'll kill you, now get out of here! Back to work!"

Embarassed, the advisor scurried back off. Clelon sneered and returned his attention to the table. They were all being drawn to Bloc 3. The ones at Bloc 1 and 2 were needed to hold the line. And now Vulkan had been redeployed elsewhere. That left the Syndicate's shock troops still lying in wait. But he had been given explicit orders to wait! "For the right time," Tytos had said. Whatever that meant. Bah. A good general makes the right time, and Clelon was the best to be churned out of Toydaria. Hands down.

He had been so aggitated, he almost hadn't heard the protocol droid waddled up to him. "Sir?"

"Yes, what?"

"Enemy forces have sounded the retreat. They're evacuating."

Evacuating? The cowards! Well, not cowards. Sensible thing to do, really. And he'd predicted it, but he didn't think it would happen this soon. He hadn't even done anything yet! How rude of them to flee before the real battle started! Bah, Tytos had said to wait. The time for waiting was over. Their enemy slipped through their fingers! It was time to act. Clelon of Pol'Zum had the command, and he was not about to waste his time sitting like a chicken in the hen house.

Whatever that meant.

"Has [member="Darth Vulkan"] engaged?" He demanded.

"No, sir."

"Then get him moving! And tell the Heralds to attack! Do it! Go now!" Clelon rubbed his smooth, fatty chin as the droid teetered away. Then he remembered another thing, which got him yelling again. "And tell those Tower Security to expect air speeders! There's supposed to be a quarantine!"

NAR SHADDAA
BLOC 4 MAIN ENTRANCE
ENGAGING COLLECTIVE FORCES

[member="Janeth Farr"]

Field Marshall Vorit Delyll of Clan Sharmat and, by extension, of Hell's Heralds had been waiting out here for a while. Felt stupid. They'd been ready to go for a while and with no sign of enemy contact, it had been boring. But suddenly Commander Clelon had called in, barking about retreats and some Vulkan guy. Didn't make sense, but now they had their orders. It was time to go. Vorit slid his helmet over his head, smacked it once to make sure it was working (and on straight) then called up one of the smaller teams. They'd been set up in a concealed position with a C4-CZN Ion Gun. Tripod mounted. Packed quite a punch. It was made for taking out enemy vehicles, but it'd do fine in knocking ray shields off of blast doors.

"Mickey," he said, "We're moving. Hit it."

From the darkness, a stream of blue bolts shot out and smacked straight into the ray shielded blast doors. It flickered, but held. For a moment, anyway. Mickey was a smart guy, you didn't have to tell him to do something twice. Another burst and the shields fell. That was part one. Part two was a lot louder. "Alright, let's get those doors open. Go on ahead, make it quick."

There was a calamitous sound of groaning durasteel as a pair of Minotaur-Class Assault Walkers lumbered forward and into position. Segregated commlinks meant they weren't feeling much of that dastardly targeting-system-scrambling broadcast the Collective sent out. The beauty of Syndicate engineering, truly. It took a couple seconds for them to line up their sights, but at the end of it they unloaded everything they had on the doors. Laser cannons, rockets, everything. Once a hole large enough to get through was available, Delyll gave the cease fire.

"Vanguard, you're up. Let's go."

The vanguard, as it turned out, consisted of three Centaur-Class Troop Transports. They shot forward in a wedge formation, repulsors knocking aside debris as they barreled into the Network Access district through the breach - speeding straight towards the encamped Network Fireteams and their Gank partners. Didn't look like they had the luxury of retreating now, not if they wanted to keep whatever was in those transports from rolling over their non-combat personnel. The front mounted laser cannons on the Centaurs opened up first, followed by suppression sprays of the anti-personnel cannons.

Nobody leaves.

 

[Delilah Keyes]

She froze, eyes the only things moving as they canted up to his face.

'What are you waiting for' was stillborn on her lips, his answer offered before she even got the words to the spot his blade hovered over. He could have killed her. Then and there. And they both knew it. She could feel the rasp of the blade as it just barely kissed her skin- even a fraction of a hair farther and it would have nicked her throat. If she so much as swallowed, she'd bleed.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. Then paused. And rolled her eyes at him anyway.

"Are you for real?"

Without turning her back to him, she stepped back once he did. Hooking her toe under the hilt, she kicked up, catching it without needing to bend over or crouch down in a vulnerable position. She tested the heft- better balanced for throwing (for someone his size) than for fighting with. Honestly, Del wasn't much of a swordswoman. Brawling, guns, even a smaller bladed knife fight. But this was longer than she was comfortable with. And with her left hand? She flexed her right slightly, wincing. She couldn't even properly close the fist, let alone holding a sword in it.

"I have no interest in dueling you, buddy," she muttered, watching him warily. "I've got nothing to prove and everything to gain from throwing this at your face and running the opposite direction."

Her feet shifted subconsciously, shifting into a knife fighting stance. Her knee ached and with how fast she'd seen him move, she wasn't actually certain she could out run him.

[member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Subject 37]

Bloc 3
Allies: [member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"]
Enemies: [member="Vilaz Munin"] | @Sangria( [member="Sanguinaria"] ) | [member="Wes Rykker"]

Through the crowd of droids Slevin watched, his gaze drifting towards a figure just beyond his troops.

The HUD within his mask flashed, moving and shifting before locking onto what appeared to be a slim silhouette within the enemy lines. Half a dozen bright red bolts flew threw the air, one of them striking Slevin's armored shoulder. He recoiled slightly, a grimace pulling across his lips as he slowly stepped up and gripped his blaster tighter. The HUD flared for a moment, a beam of red jumping across his eyes as the figure through the crowd began to move and heft some sort of weapon.

An alert popped through his ears, and then the noise-dampeners within his mask sounded out.

Slevin scowled, his armored hand raising up in an open palm.

In an instant the Grav-glove that had been built into his armor kicked into life. The hundreds of tiny repulsors upon his finger tips and palm flared into existence, energy flowing into them and the tractors kicking into gear. Within half a heartbeat they pressed outward and against the Grenade that had been shot towards Slevin and his allies. They grasped it, and then suddenly pushed it back directly towards the figure that had fired it in the first place.

 

[Ras'Kel'Kanto]

Ras'Kel'Kanto​

Location: Bloc 1 - Nar Shadaa​

Objective: Support the Collective​

T

​

---

​

---

The Duel.
Hab-unit seventeen
​

Set music.​

It's almost done. Just a little more.

The flames did a number on Kanto's body, blackening his exterior plating to the color of smoke. The majority of his flesh had been boiled under the armored plating, reflected as a number of wound warnings on his HUD. The cyborg tightened his grip on his combat blade, a size inch long slab of vibrating durasteel., and held it with a reverse grip- close to his chest and pointed downward. With the rest of his equipment inoperable, the knife was Kanto's only means to defend himself against a heavily armed Koda. It was a grim concept, the mercenary has seen better men with better odds lose to Koda- but Ras was almost pleased. There something rather comforting about facing certain death, a sensation that the cyborg reviled

It's all that matters,

Nothing else seems to exist outside of his pure instinct to survive; race, history, sex- it's all meaningless. Kanto came to the realization as he sat crouched against the duracrete divider, knife in hand and listening to the growing 'roar' of Koda's jetpack. This next maneuver will be his last, a final gamble that Kanto staked his entire strategy over. The entire duel thus far was simply build up to this moment, and Ras found himself shaking in pure anticipation. This is the only thing that's real, to fight on the behalf of his own life and nothing else. If he fails, then he fails- there is no shame in losing to Koda. Ras had followed Koda across the galaxy, dutifully serving as the bounty hunter's right hand. While they were not friends in the traditional manner, they were an effective team that had some pleasant memories.

He's close now.

The jetpack was deafening, Kanto guessed that Koda was at least a floor below him at this point. Time seemed to slow as the cyborg prepared himself, inching closer to the divider separating him from the open plaza. The bounty hunter will be above him in two seconds, and Kanto will be dead in three- which gives Kanto a single second window to spring his trap. When that window hit, just when Fett's helmet began to crest over the divider, Ras jumped to his feet- exposing himself to the now parallel Fett. Blaster bolts pelted his armored torso, melting chunks of blackened durasteel away from the chassis. Kanto returned fire with his final trick, his head mounted flash emitter. At it's max setting, the emitter blasts a focused beam of white light- rated at around five million candela, directly at Fett's visore face. Specifically Ras was aiming the light at the fist sized imprint- if Fett's visor was damaged then the light should find it's way inside.

His combat knife left his hand shortly after he activated the emitter, the cyborg having thrown his final weapon at Kando. Blade throwing wasn't in Kando's skillset, but he had to make do with what he had left.

 

[Loray Tares]

Bloc 3
Allies: [member="Slevin Thawne"], [member="Aver Brand"]
Enemies: [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Sanguinaria"], [member="Wes Rykker"]

It was a good thing this autoturret didn't have feelings. Even as the HRD and droids moved on, rounding a corner, Loray was scoping out this particular emplacement with a keen and hungry eye. The duracrete rebar warhammer had heft to it, though hardly noticeable when flung about with CERS and the prosthetic arm and the soul saber, oh my.

Bringing the block over his head, and to the side, and down, he cracked the defensive housing with ease, breaking the system free from it's swivel base. Another hit and the lights on the top flared up, flashing, indicating a loss of target tracking. That was good as Loray had taken about four too many to the chest and was feeling the particular ache. Lobbing the warhammer down the hall, it slid across debris to the sound of him reaching forward and unhinging the large gatling auto blaster.

Turning towards the path where the attacks were happening, Loray moved slowly as he dragged the weapon by the impromptu handle. A bundle of energy packs, likes its hanging entrails, slivered behind without any guidance. He stopped, wrapped the chain of ammo around his arm, and lifted the gun up to hip level. Heaving forward, he waited for the line to clear before he started firing down the hallway.

Maybe this newcomer would thin out the herd of ally droids.

Give the Equalizers someone to play with.

That would be nice.

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

Location: Bloc 1 - Nar Shadaa
Objective: Kill Ras'Kel'Kanto

---

---

This was it, this could be the end right here - right now. The duo that had fought side-by-side had been pitted against each other due to nothing more than credits. A sad thing truly, if it weren't for this meddlesome Collective perhaps everything would be just fine and they'd both come out unscathed. A hopeful yet unachievable outcome, especially when Fett was so determined to kill his 'friend'. Though this is how it always works out for Fett, nothing lasts, everything ends. Even he will one day, but his desperate attempt to cling onto anything that'll allow him to get by is what keeps him alive. Perhaps he's just more determined than most, his reputation, his visage is everything to him. He has nothing in this galaxy but that. He wasn't going to lose it in a scrap with a former associate. No, not a chance.

The Bounty Hunter soared upwards at an intense speed, it was a long way he'd fallen and a long way to get back up. 145 MPH, that's how fast this jetpack could take him. The bolts came out in a three with bursts, pelting against the heavy armour of Kanto. He's mine now. He thought to himself, positive he'd kill him here and now, as sad as it were, Fett was an angry man that wasn't so willing to let things go. He reached Kanto's balcony for a final confrontation. The final move that'd end it all, make or break Kanto's ability to survive.

A bright light, so bright that even Fett's visor couldn't contain it all. He recoiled backwards in the air, taking a moment to stagger as he shifted to his right. He was no longer moving upwards but straight across, his left hand removed itself from the barrel, loosely on his side as the speed he moved at kept it almost outstretched, yet a fist clenched. The Lizard's last ditch effort, the vibro knife wasn't effective as intended, but it suited just fine. It narrowly avoided Koda, and due to the fact he was somewhat turned to the side it struck his jetpack, a hot gas esque 'sass' was emitted from it, he took the second glance at it to see a knife impacted within it. Explode in the air, or try to catch himself on something whilst falling? I'll take my chances. A swift hand touches his gauntlet, and he slips out of the jetpack as it continues to soar to the side and eventually explode in a fiery blaze that could've been him.

Fett was falling, perceptive eyes glanced around at something, anything to grab a hold of dig his arms into. There was no hope, he was a dead man. After all this his demise was gravity. He desperately tried to manoeuvre himself in his descent, forearm blades extended in an attempt to dig them into the wall to slow himself down or bring himself to a stop. Nothing worked, only sparks. Was this truly the end for him? Certainly seemed that way.

 

[Teroch Werda]

Location: Nar Shaddaa | Network Access - Block 2
Allies: [member="Ruug'la Jag"], [member="Muad Dib"]

---

---

Being with the Ures'alor had proven to be a most profitable venture. Steady contracts, good pay, reliable comrades. The likes of such a combination being one rarely found in the galaxy today. So when a nice juicy lump of credits rolled through their door in the visage of Gorba the Hutt, what else could they do but accept his offer. Thus here Teroch was. Upon the most vile cesspool of crime and desperation known to sentient life. People say that all roads eventually lead to Nar Shaddaa. If so much was true Teroch hoped most met their end before their journey ended. He had not been so lucky after all, and was experiencing first hand the woe of this world.

His jetpack hummed to life as he followed his comrades across the gap. Mandalorians were at their strongest when they stood together. Presenting a wall of indomitable strength to their opponents. So, as it were, Teroch endeavored to stick close his allies. Should things go tail up here he wanted to know their support would quickly present itself. "I'll take that bet." He responded to Muad Dib and his little wager. "Make it a bottle to the winner though, then we got a wager." His thick Mandalorian accent beating across the comlink. A bit of levity in the face of danger was typical of Teroch and his kin. He only hoped he could retain that enthusiasm throughout this operation.

 

[Malen]

"Gotcha." Malen stated. "I'll begin the other plan. Prepare to the biggest poodooload of data you'll ever have."

Connecting himself to the Collective's database, he remembered that [member="Jest de Rous"]' company had cloud servers. Knowing full well that the data-cap of a simple cloud data centre was far larger than traditional server architecture, Malen, having previous working knowledge of servers, and having access to the Collective's database, would try and secure their hard-earned data.

The planet that he was sending the servers to was relatively close, not only in terms of hyperspace travel, but more importantly, holonet connection. More importantly, he would also use the company's holonet connection to be able to begin transferring the data, using whatever terminals that were not there to help boost the connection. Other minor steps were also taking, including stopping the usage of useless programs, clearing any browser caches, etc.

The first, most important data was the data on the Collective's agents. Despite having risen quickly through the underworld, an organization like the Collective maintained a small, yet highly skilled memberbase with multiple people skilled in multiple operations. Versatility was one of their forte; at the moment however, their small member base made it very quickly for him to begin transferring the data, extremely quickly to be more specific.

Now, they had to begin erasing any evidence their enemies might have used. Any operations, whether false-flag, etc, now immediately began to be removed. Other stuff would also accompany it as well.

Knowing full well that they were on the loosing edge of the battle, Malen decided he would help out, albeit in his own hackish ways. The Epicanthix hybrid knew that there were a bunch of holonet connectors that were close to an important place like the Network Access, and he would use that to his advantage.

Even if the connection was quick, Malen knew that it might take longer than it needed to be for their data to be transmitted. Wanting to make sure it was a small operation, the slicer went to the source of where all the connectors could be accessed. Using the myriad of VPNs, and a proxy to hide his network address, the neutral Knight after some sniffing around found where it was located due to him tracking the packets from the source.

Using his own password cracking program, he used a brute force attack to be able to take over one of the accounts, surprisingly one that was an admin, and had root access to the systems. It wasn't something that happened often, and it seemed that in this one instance, he was quite lucky. As always, he created a new directory so he could hide his activities, and firstly deleted any logs that showed that there was a new connection.

With admin access, Malen would begin plan B of his attack, while he continued to send data from the Collective's database.

 

[Zef Halo]

Bloc 3
Allies: [member="Sanguinaria'] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]
Enemies: [member="Slevin Thawne"] | [member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"]

--

With each passing second the bass infused sound of explosions and utter destruction grew louder. The data he received over his HUD's feed display signaled that the outer defensive perimeter was breached and soon the hostiles would-

BANG!

Whatever was holding the assailants from entering the chokepoint was blown away and the sound of devastation came in full force, no walls no more to hold it. Wes held his trigger patiently waiting for the invaders to pile up more for maximum effectiveness. Just a moment after the female cyborg initiated her salvo upon the hostile forces Wes unleashed his own arsenal upon the waves of attackers.

The level of chaos that engulfed the chokepoint drastically raised as the mercenary relentlessly fired grenades from launcher. Wes' job was clear - keep the enemies at bay. He'd rain all his arsenal upon the foes in pursuit of his objective.

 

[Aver Brand]

Bloc 3
Bae 1&2: [member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"]
Bae 2’s Murderbot: [member="Six-O"]
Sulky Nephew: [member="Onley Xiangu"]
Broody Niece’s Current Side Ho: [member="Xian Valart"]
Allies: [member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="The Prince"] | [member="Slevin Thawne"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Kaine's NPCs"] | [member="Kael Rose"]
Enemies: [member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Sola Tymon"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Dyxra'a"] | [member="Delilah Keyes"] | [member="Mara Kellarov"]
Engaging (forgot the ring at home, though): [member="Sanguinaria"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]

In their defense… they couldn’t possibly expect many Forcers amongst the lot of assaulting criminals. And honestly, there weren’t many. Except for that one Sith Lady. And her darling son. And… the Equalizers.

Aver watched Thawne shove back the grenade with some kind of sweet-ass tech hand. Something to look into – the merc had other business to attend to. Even as her lover lay down some serious suppressing fire with the gatling he’d, eh, borrowed from a local turret, she bid her time.

Despite the bellow of the blaster repeater and the – admittedly thinning – onslaught of Coratanni HRDs, someone else popped up from cover, spewing grenades at the unlikely allies like confetti at a wedding.

One, two, three… the explosions shook the walls and reduced even the hardy droid chassis were ripped apart by heat and concussive waves. Aver ducked behind a wall to avoid a white-hot piece of mangled metal, perception crawling over the narrow battlefield and towards the owner of the grenade launcher.

Couldn’t have asked for a nicer gift, if this was indeed a wedding – blue eyes flickered for a moment to Loray, and she knew he had a grin plastered on his face behind that impassive faceplate. With an expression mirroring his own, the mercenary wrapped her presence around and inside [member="Wes Rykker"]’s weapon.

But as he relentlessly squeezed the trigger, the next grenade wouldn’t come. Nothing. No pop, no swooosh, no explosion. Oh, the trigger gave alright, like it should – it wasn’t a mechanical malfunction.

Aver would simply keep the primed projectile in the barrel of the launcher with an exertion of the Force.

And when it went boom in a second? It wouldn’t be just one grenade, no – sympathetic detonation would light up the rest of his magazine as well.

She couldn’t have planned this better herself.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZD8YPY8RBQc​

 

[Janeth Farr]

NAR SHADDAA
Network Access
Bloc 4

With the first wave of transports now well out of harm's way, the second batch in bloc 4 were not going to be so lucky.

Compact forces barged their way through the thick defenses on the back of assault vehicles and ground transports. When the behemoths moved through the debris like nothing, and barreled their way towards the Collective position, only the Gank Killers continued to fight back. The security forces were neither trained nor equipped to deal with vehicular assaults on a Nar Shaddaa base. A number of them fled the scene before the vehicles swept to cover the area, but the ones entrenched were given few choices.

The Gank Killers may have had moxie but there was little even they could do to defeat such odds. No, they fell rather quickly in the slaughter. The remaining defenders laid down their arms and opened a channel to announce their surrender. They were hired and trained solely to defend this location, and were kept in the dark regarding the Collective's true purposes and operations elsewhere. Relying only on what little rumour they could gather during patrol or at the mess hall. So suffice to say they weren't willing to die in vain, now that the transports behind them were gone and probably not coming back.

Operatives and senior technicians had already left. Leaving the grunts to fend for themselves.

[member="Helix Syndicate"]

 

[Kael Rose]

Nar Shadda
​Bloc 2 Entrance
​Nade'n Turrets
​Close Enemies: [member="Mara Kellarov"] [member="The Slave"]
​Closer Friends: [member="Six-O"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] [member="Ruug'la Jag"] [member="Onley Xiangu"]
​Long Distance Relationships: [member="Tytos Ardik"] @Gorba the Hutt @Aver Brand @Loray Tares [member="Slevin Thawne"] @The Prince @Xian Valart @Kaine's NPCs @Others
​Poor Long Distance Relationships: @Janeth Farr @Jest de Rous @Others

The other Forcer knew his stuff, and the turrets fell in short order next to the crews skilled use of grenades and tactics. It almost like a dance, taking two steps behind cover, waiting three steps behind it, tossing the grenade with the next step, and repeating it again. Kael noticed that the other men with the Forcer moved in a rhythm as well. Not too close, not too far, quietly, precisely. They were a team that'd been working together for a while, as opposed to these other mercs who met together out of circumstance. He didn't know how much they actually trusted each other, one could never tell, but they were professional enough to take care of their spot in the unit, to the degree where the others expected it.

Which meant this wasn't some gang war. Or rather, there was more to it than that. A trained Forcer wasn't that uncommon of circumstances to be found, but the way he felt? The way his team moved in unison? People like that didn't move without a purpose. There was a chance that purpose was a fat wad of credits, but Kael doubted it. Kael decided he'd do some investigating when this was over. Sometimes it was better not to ask questions, but sometimes it was good to know just who you were getting in bed with.


“Masks on if you’ve got ‘em! Something poisonous being pumped in to the air.” The other grenadier spoke to him and his team, and Kael repressed the desire to curse. He'd been so distracted thinking about this man and his team that he'd let his guard down. Hadn't felt the smoke coming. Kael hadn't been expecting gas because most ecumenopolis gangs didn't use them. It was difficult to deal with the spread in an urban environment. Even if you could shield your crew it was likely to deal with your "insurance" or "pharmaceutical" customers, which meant loss of cashflow. The collective had either found a way to filter it into their facility, or this was a last-ditch tactic.

Kael kept his mouth shut, and attempted to reinforce himself with the Force. He didn't know fancy techniques like Breath Control of Adiabatic Shield, but perhaps it would buy him some time. Either way he moved quickly. He was willing to bet somebody in the facility had breathmasks. He just needed to liberate them. There was a problem though, as a Teepo Paladin, in that they used the Force to 'see' with their visors, and one could only see so far when focusing on other matters. Kael forgot this, and paid for it.

A blaster bolt caught Kael in the chest. It had to have been pistol grade, because his blast-resistant leathers took up most of the fire, though he could still felt a bit scorched. Kael dashed to the side and fired off a few wild bolts, trying to cover his path. He still couldn't see, but he could feel there were a half-dozen of them now. And more importantly, they had rebreathers.

"They've got masks." Kael yelled as he took cover, waiting to fire another couple shots. Some of the stuff was in his lungs right now. Hopefully not enough to do any lasting damage, but every minute hurt.

 

[Kellyn Muir]

His job, albeit brief, was done. The Slave I continued to disrupt weapons systems via it's broadcasting beam, but Jest didn't have to do much after that. Like a sniper in the jungle, Jest began wrapping up his operation. He had enough time to stick around and deliver a quick jab, but if he remained for too long, he'd eventually get tracked and likely wiped off the face of the planet. He had no intention of sticking around. Rising from his seat bolted to the ground, he went over to the cockpit and sat again. He opened up the ships controls and began firing up the engines. As the whirs of the engines got louder and more powerful, Jest activated autopilot before returning to his computer terminal. Shutting down his applications there, he reopened a partial interface in the cockpit.

As the ship rose, it began flying in a holding pattern over Network Access. From the ground, it might look like just another ship in traffic. To those with keener eyes, they'd notice the ship flying just above the traffic of Nar Shaddaa, but not leaving the vicinity of the Collective's falling headquarters.

Hurry up, he thought. He had some seismic charges with the Compact's name on them.

[member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Malen"]​

 

[Malen]

Like many times before, the neutral Knight, with added pressure, was able to work more effectively. He was able to boost his connection tremendously, and saw the transfer of the data's speed increase. The transfer of all of their data, as well as some other stuff he considered useful was done.

Remembering that all the VPNs and proxy didn't log his network address, he was fine. The slicer however made sure to erase any trace of where his packets were being transmitted, etc, making sure he, like many slicers before him, left no trace for his enemies to track back.

Seeing a bunch of the Collective's slicers log off, the slicer deleted all the logs that had anything related to him, albeit he was aided by a program. With all that done, and all his tracks erased, Malen logged off, his main aim now being to meet his other colleagues.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Tower Security​

​

"Hey."

"What, Dinky?"

"All the air traffic over this, this Network Access thing, it's all stopped, right Sarge?"

"...Yes."

"So, uh, we didn't get clearance for a group of shuttles to leave, right?"

"...No." Sarge felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"So what're those shuttles doin'?" The Duros pointed and Sarge looked.

A group of hastily departing shuttles whipped toward the perimeter of the quarantine zone, trying to get out. Only Sarge knew they definitely did not have clearance from the friends in the swamp.

Eyes bulging, vein threatening to burst on his forehead, and cheeks growing red as tomatoes, he seized his commlink. "Stop those shuttles!"

A few seconds later, security speeders with flashing blue lights swerved to intercept. When the shuttles didn't stop, the security speeders fired miniature-shock nets that spread out in a web designed to enshroud the escaping shuttles and fry their electronics. Reusable ion cannons. Sort of.

Sarge hoped it would be enough.

"Uh, Sarge."

"What, Dinky?" he whirled on the Duros, practically foaming at the mouth.

"What about that firespray?"

"Firespray? What-" Sarge looked up. "WHAT THE KARK ARE YOU IDIOTS DOING"

Was this a quarantine zone or a karking three ring circus?

"Blast that sucker!" he roared.

Dinky scrambled to relay the order in more comprehensive terms and a few moments later a pair of security shuttles opened up on the Firespray with their ion cannons.

[member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Jest de Rous"]

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Location: Bloc 1 (Exchange Forces), Exterior (Droid Rearguard)
Allies: The Compact/Underworld - [member="Sturgis Tal'Verda"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] et al.
Enemies: The Collective - [member="Janeth Farr"] | [member="Ras'Kel'Kanto"] et al.


Bloc 1 // Network Access
Nar Shaddaa

Bloodlust surged through him as Hakar's double-blade plunged through a weak point in the bloc defender's combat armor, the pressure of the chalon blade forcing blood out of the wound in small geysers. All around him, it was a war zone, as everything from Mandalorian mercenaries to creepy Nadir berserkers to Exchange bruisers toting repeaters clashed with the Collective forces over control of the data center. Growling in frustration, the reptilian commander forced himself to deny his more primal instincts, and retreated back behind the line of his men's repeaters instead of charging headlong into the fray.

When he and his team had returned to the Bloc, the driftless Salvatrucha employed contractors had rallied around them before he could put a stop to it. While he would have liked to remain a little more inconspicuous, the mercenary had adapted, and led his arrayed forces on a charge to capture one of the server clusters. Under the pretense of setting up around it to clear out a defensive position for themselves within the room, the Trandoshan ordered their slicer to get to work while the rest of the tactical team provided cover.

Exchange personnel fell by the dozens, but to their credit none of them broke and scattered despite being so clearly outclassed by practically everything around them. Hakar knew better than to chalk it up to bravery, every one of them knew the consequences for them if they ran from the Prince would be more terrifying by far. The only thing they had in their favor was their numbers. Salvatrucha may have scaled back its public facing operations in recent years, loosening their grip on the galactic underworld, but there had been a time when this entire planet had been under the control of the Red Ravens. Even for a rushed operation like this outside Ifan's sphere of influence, the fixer had been impressed by how much muscle his boss had been able to assemble on such short notice.

Now if only any of them could fight, Hakar wished to himself. It was a good thing they had brought repeaters, otherwise he doubted anyone outside of the tactical team could have hit anything from this range.

"Sir! We've got a problem!" the slicer shouted into his comm unit over the roar of gun and lasfire, "We're too late, they're already wiping out all their data caches!"

"Sssswipe anything you can, hurry!" the Trandoshan hissed, "We can't leave thisss plassse empty handed!"

"Hakar, report."



Executive Suite
The Golden Nautolan


"Not exactly a good time, bosss," Hakar's voice crackled back at him over the encrypted channel.

Ifan frowned in deep displeasure at being put on hold by his own right hand, and paused in the process of mixing his cocktail to glance over at the holodisplay on the balcony table intermittently displaying the Trandoshan's point of view. There was a lot of EMP activity going on inside the facility, so as soon as they had breached Network Access the Prince had lost quality of picture on his remote viewing of the assault. With little to go by but the Hakar's occasional commentary in between kills, the Exchange lieutenant had slowly begun to lose interest despite himself.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, forcing his brain to remember he needed something to show the Underlord for this debacle.

"There wassss a....complication," the Trandoshan answered at last, in a tone that did not inspire Ifan with confidence.

"What kind of complication?"

"Ssssecurity countermeasssuresss. Ssslicer isss dead, brain melted I think," the voice went on, and its handler downed the cocktail in his hand in one angry gulp, "They were pulling the plug, we had to act fassst."

"Did he get anything at least?" Ifan asked.

"Unsssertain."

"Well, only one way to find out," the Prince sighed heavily, disappointed in such an outcome, "Have your team bring whatever you have back to me, and then mop up that mess with the rest of the men."

"Yesss, bosssss," the line went dead.

Pausing first at an electronic device in one of the corners, and then at the stash of dreamdust on a larger table inside the suite, the Prince transported the hallucinogenic substance out to the balcony. From the device inside, a lilting orchestral melody began to play just loud enough for him to hear clearly, but not so much as to disturb any of the other hotel guests. Scenes of bloodshed faded in and out before him on the holographic display still intermittently broadcasting Hakar's point of view, and it wasn't long before Ifan was flying.

High above the toxic, smog filled Nar Shaddaa skyline, and away from it all.