Broken City (you know who you are)

[Mala]

The linguine proved a difficult mess to fight with and listen to the conversation, so much so that she gave up with the fork and slurped from the bowl to make focusing on both tasks a little easier. Sauce dribbled down her chin, and she hummed between swallows feet tapping on the wall. Her guardian could feel the tremble of excitement in her shoulders, his hand moving automatically to rub between her ears.

She grinned up at him, licking the bowl clean before dropping it on the table with a clatter and leaning over to see the scribbles. Not that she could read any of them, but she wanted to be involved. Kaysilly listed off the things they needed and Mala giggled. "Mala." she said pointing to the list. "Kaysilly needs Mala."

Before Cato could protest she was back under the table wriggling back up between Gib and Case. She paused, lifted Gib's hand and pressed it against her face, fur ruffling at she did. "Gib." she said quietly reaching to touch the tusks. Momentarily distracted. A slow blink and she was back in the room, eyes wide she turned and stole the synthelery Case was waving a round, and stuff it into her mouth.

"Kaysilly needs Mala noise."

"No." Cato's reply was steady and even.

"Yes." Mala replied.

"Absolutely not."

"As...po....." she shook her head giving up trying to repeat the word. "Yes!"

"Mala..."

She seized the nearest synthdip and threw it across the table at him. "KAYSILLY NEEDS MALA NOISE!"

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Gib"] [member="Case Li"]

 

[Heron Graile]

@Gib@Case Li[member="Cato Fett"][member="Mala"]

In the wake of Mala's declaration, Dinko hunched a little lower in the booth and ignored the bartender's glare.

"Looks like we've got our distraction. As for the buyer, half my life is finding folks who want to buy things with the serial numbers filed off. Depending what we get, yeah, I can fence it or make it fenceable."

Twelve crates of anything, split five ways, would set her to move up in the world. Maybe even pay off her credit chit.

"The other thing we need is ground rules. Nobody gets hurt, what happens if someone falls behind, that kind of stuff. Anyone got a preference?"

 

[Cato Fett]

The dip-cub rebounded off Cato’s helm and made a neat soaring arc into another occupied booth. Plastic bombed into fried-krill chowder. Swearing, a patron stood and glowered over the dividing partition. Until they saw a Mandalorian, a seated Or’zet, and Mala’s scrunched up muzzle bearing needle-like teeth that argued against raising complaint. The patron swore out of resignation anyway and slipped back out of sight. Their friend celebrated a free synth-ranch dip cup.

“Don’t do that,” Cato said.

“No, hunter is arseface!”

The tension to his frame wasn’t anger. He was fighting a deep snicker under his helmet, refusing to let Mala have the moment’s high ground, and Dinko wasn’t helping. The Squib could manufacturer chaos instantaneously. Her dip-cup toss proved it. Custom, etiquette, convention didn’t apply to her logic. If armed and enraged, she’d wreak havoc in enemy lines before disappearing amid the confusion and pain. Cato had witnessed it. You little shid, he thought, don’t you smirk and preen at me. I don’t worry for you pointlessly, remember that. Don’t ask me why either. I cannot understand it myself.

“One rule,” Cato began proposing. “Profit does not exceed preservation. If the unexpected happens and we’re weighed with too much freight, the freight goes, we fall back, and we walk away alive. Keep an eye out for blue-collars and don’t kill unnecessarily. For equal returns, everyone accepts equal shares of responsibility. We all look after each other. Fair?”

[member="Heron Graile"] | [member="Mala"] | [member="Gib"] | [member="Case Li"]

 

[Not Ordo]

Gib chuckled to himself as the fury blue creature lifted his hand to her head. She was an endearing little scamp, whatever she was. He flinched back as stray dip splattered against his chest. He looked down at the thick white dressing and wiped it of with a finger that went straight to his mouth. He had siblings that weren't much better at table manners once upon a time.

"Yeah, that's what I think too." He said as he leaned forward with his forearms on the table edge. "No nobody's life worth no credits. Not in my book."

He looked up and left again, mouth working silently as if he was trying to read the words he wanted somewhere on the ceiling. He stuck his lower lip out again and blew another puff of air passed his nose as he looked back at the group.

"So what we need is a truck, enclosed, yeah?" He said as if making a mental list of his own, "We got us. We got a plan for disabling droids. I know some camera dead spots, what we can use. But, if the power goes down I don't know what the security guys will do, ya know? People, ain't always easy to predict. I don't want to kill nobody. I think maybe we can get in and out real quiet like and try ta avoid all the noisy shootin' if we can."

He paused again thinking hard.

"We'd have to be quick. Two maybe three minutes tops. Corps got the TSEC in their pocket. They'd be along quick if we ain't gone...it won't be no good."


[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Mala"] [member="Case Li"]

 

[Case Li]

"Okay, Case Li has [member="Mala"] noise." Case said as the blue furred creature began yelling and tossing synthdip at the nearby mandalorian. "Mala noise is on the list." He said again, trying to quiet her down a bit. He honestly wasn't happy about losing the synthlery, but the squib made enough of a scene without Case adding to the outcry.

[member="Heron Graile"] noted Mala's talent for distraction, and Case nodded while looking at her. The Mandalorian kept stoic, only taking a glance at the other patron who'd rose out of anger at the thrown dip cup. His glance was enough to put the man back into his chair. Amazing how some could influence a room like that without so much as a word.

He turned back to the group and expressed a quick set of rules. No man left behind, drop the take before the partners, equal shares, no unnecessary bloodshed.

"Deal." Case said, hesitating for perhaps a quarter of a second to think. He was pretty amenable to it, but that was less a feeling of friendship and more of knowing where he was in the totem pole of combat. Chances were it wasn't gonna be [member="Cato Fett"] stuck because of some battle droids. Case figured the odds were better with the Mandalorian and Or'zet watching his back. He really didn't trust the Zeltron, well, he didn't trust any of them really. But the Or'zet was a friendly sort, and the Mandalorian was the first one to propose the unity, and they both the muscle anyways.

"I hear you." Case said while looking at [member="Gib"] . "I'm not big on the firefights either." Case said, and then took a deep breath. "So you're making the map. We have our 'rules'. We have our distraction. We have a way to deal with the mechanized security. We have a way to get a buyer. Way I see it the biggest thing we're missing is the truck." Case took another deep breath.

"I know a guy who might be able to lend us one, but he's not a nice fellow. Could get in some trouble with him if we can't pay him in the next few days. I can call him, or we can . . . 'borrow' one." He said after some thought.

 

[Mala]

Triumph gleamed in the squib's yellow eyes, and she flashed her guardian a wicked grin celebrating by snatching another morsel from the appetizer plate and settling into Gib's lab. Not taking her eyes off her Hunter. Mala's face was taunting. 'I'm over here, you can't reach me, Mala likes this one and this one is nice to Mala.' All that was missing was her tongue poking out.

So she stuck that out at him too.

Kaysilly was chatting again, chatting so fast she paused halfway through chewing to stare at him. She deciphered the important details option one was a nasty and Mala didn't like nasties. Borrow sounded much better and of course 'borrow' meant theiving and that was what Mala did best. She stood on the bench again, turned her back to the rest of the group and scanned it, chewing slowly. "Mala fix it." she said, eyes settling upon a besalisk whose over weight belly rested on the table he was sat at, shovelling food into his mouth, little eyes fixed on the holoscreen in the corner. A cap rested next to his platter, emblazoned with a logo she recognised as one that she's seen flitting past her window on the side of small delivery trucks.

The squib giggled, swallowed her mouthful, handing the rest of half eaten chicken wing to Gib. "Mala fix it." Her fur ruffled once, she slid under the table and disappeared underneath the benches, vanishing from sight. She picked her way carefully under the booths appearing in the shadow of an empty one. Lamp like eyes fix on the shiny set of keys at the besalisks belt. She cast her gaze about the room once, assessing the attentions of everyone else before slipping out, careful to stay out of the hulking forms peripheral vision.

She inched closer, little heart hammering, eyes like saucers. Deft fingers reached out and unhooked them from his belt. She could have been done there too, it would have been smarter. But she was a cocky little thing and she wanted to make it a game. So she stuffed the keys in a pocket and moved into his peripheral vision. He gave her half a glance, and she snatched the cap too.

"Oi!" he roared, but Mala was away, bounding across the establishment with a gleeful giggle and vanishing out the door. The besalisk stood up and turned the table by mistake. He'd lost his hat and now his dinner too. Grumbling her righted the table, set it down as a minimal loss and ordered more food.

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Gib"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Heron Graile]

@Mala @Case Li @Gib @Cato Fett

Mala fix it.

Zeltrons weren't known for premonitions, but Dinko had one now: a sinking feeling that Mala fix it would eventually presage all manner of wonderful actions and horrible consequences. As the Squib vanished out the door, heavier by one hat and one set of keys, Dinko slapped down a cred chit and slid out of the booth. Any minute now, that Besalisk might realize where Mala's hands had been, or hear his truck pull away.

"I'm thinking it's time to step out," Dinko said. Pity, too: she'd been looking forward to ordering dessert. But the comforting weight of money in her pocket and wares in her bag told her there'd be another chance for chocolate. "There's a speeder parkade right across from the thing. Let's meet there tonight, make it happen. That truck's a tickin' bomb, so tonight's gotta be it. Yeah?" She tilted her chin at Case. "You gonna have the map done by then?"

 

[Case Li]

[member="Mala"] [member="Gib"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"]

"Mala fix it." Case heard, and a hand went out to try and stop the darting squib, his fingers reaching the end of a tuft of fur before she disappeared out from the table, heading out to do some 'thievin'. His eyes darted first to the Zeltron, then the Mandalorian, then the Or'zet to his side, all in rapid succession.

"I'm thinking it's time to step out." Dinko said, pulling out her credits and putting them at table. Case was already reaching to do the same.

"Yup. Let's get outta here." Case said as he put down his own credits, trying to denote the urgency to the dock worker Gib. He seemed a tad slower, no harm in helping him out. Dinko talked about a meeting place, a speeder parkade, and Case knew the place. He'd get there.

"Yeah, I'll make sure it gets done." He said, as he slid out out of the booth, leading a path for Gib to go opposite of Dinko and Cato. Better to split attentions and reform, as far as Case saw. Case had almost gotten them out of the door when a Fondorian stepped in front of him, sporting a hat with the same logo as the one Mala had just stolen.

"Weren't you sittin wit a squib just a minute ago?" The Fondorian said.

"A squib? Let me see." Case said, turned his torso right, clenched a fist, and then turned back as quick as he could with a punch to the Fondorian's jaw. Case wasn't a strong man, but the shock of the blow as enough to push him back. At least enough to give Case and Gib a path to the door.

"C'mon." Case yelled at the Or'zet, as he dashed into the familiar raining streets. Hopefully the other three were having a less eventful escape. Somehow, with Mala there, he doubted it.

 

[Cato Fett]

The Fondorian was rolling off his shoulder, wiping at indigo blood running from a split lip, livid and turning violet with rage. He struck a hold-out gun from his sleeve, a small Kalash imitation of a Rodian copy of a Corellian blaster, the grip wrapped in masking tape. He was almost to his feet and beginning to charge for the pub doors, as Cato jabbed with his sword-end. The steel point tapped the pistol’s housing, spun it out of the Fondorian’s fingers, onto ruddy tiles almost red with decades of trampled clay mud. Cato sheathed Oilseller away and waited. Between fear and cold upset, the Fondorian waivered. He finally snorted throatily and hocked spit onto Cato’s fatigues, breathed something venomous, and marched for the pub bathroom. Cato knelt and collected the hold-out, pocketing it as he followed after Case.

He caught up to Mala. She’d found a wide-bed skytrailer and was dancing a neat frolic on the driver’s cabin roof. Rain danced with her, skipping under her hind-paws. The key-loop jangled around her wrist and flashed with the neon adverts blinking along the street. Cato caught her eyes and stood with arms akimbo. The rain had washed the spit off his jacket and with it, the momentary sting of wounded honour. But keys and a flatbed air-truck were nothing to kill over. He jerked a hand at her.

“Is Mala done? Does Mala want to catch ill?”

[member="Case Li"] | [member="Heron Graile"] | [member="Mala"] | [member="Gib"]

 

[Not Ordo]

He sat awestruck by the incredible swiftness with which the situation had gone from quiet planning to a race for the door. He hadn't been ready for it at all. His big orange eyes sat wide and bulging as his tusk clad lower jaw took aim at the floor.

He scooted with awkward haste from the cheaply upholstered booth seat and fumbled with his weapons stash. He should have done something more to get them to at least distribute the loose ones before things could go sideways. The haste was more than a little annoying and he quickly got frustrated with the awkward weapons and stopped to unzip the duffle and stuff them in. The fondorian was already moving to get his weapon as Cato swept out after Mala.

"Why are the cute ones always trouble." He mumbled to himself as he drew himself up and hiked the straps up on his shoulder and walked straight up to the man.

"Uh, sorry about this." He said to the Fondorian as he pushed him into a seat and tossed his pay into his lap. "Buy a drink and stay here til it runs out. Or, or else...you won't like it." He shook a fist at the man.

The Fondorian stared at him mouth wide open as he walked out and caught up to the group as they closed on a flat bed speeder. He thought he should say something witty to ease the tension but he couldn't think of anything. Instead he climbed onto the bed and pulled out the heavy blaster pistol and sat with his back to the cab.

[member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Cato Fett"]

 

[Mala]

"Shiny, shiny, shiny." she sang as Cato called up to her. "Fixed it, fixed it, fixed it!"

She paused in her dance, beaming down at him, before jumping without thought, without warning towards him. Because she didn't need to think about whether Hunter would catch her or not. There was one person in the galaxy that had her trust entirely and it was him. Mala slipped her arms about his neck, hugged him tight and then wriggled free to drop to the floor and scampered to the cabin door to unlock it and climb inside.

"Mala drive."

There was a brief squabble over this fact that earned Cato a sharp nip and her a small smack on the hand. So Mala sat in the foot well, picking her way through the chrome on the controls and shooting her guardian small glares. Just when she'd fixed everything too.

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Gib"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Case Li"]

 

[Heron Graile]

@Mala @Gib @Cato Fett [member="Case Li"]

"Mala drive?"

Heron hopped into the back of the truck as Cato - blessedly - took the wheel and pulled away. Maybe meeting later wasn't in the cards. Soon enough this truck would be hot, as far as that meant anything in the Lower City. She blinked her sonic visualization implant to life and watched little pings bounce from the bar's front door: the yelling going on inside. A sense of momentum crept over her, as if things were happening with or without her input, and she'd better back up or bear down. At some level, she'd already known that, hence getting in the truth. Hence a lot of things so far tonight.

She slid lower into the truck bed as they passed a hovertram full of ICE corporate security enforcers. Every corporation had some kind of equivalent, pegged from zero to ten on the visibly-intimidating scale based on the company's public image. Iron Crown's guys looked like exactly what they were: shiny faceless thugs. The truck and its dubious cargo didn't attract a glance, thank feth.

 

[Case Li]

The next thing Case knew he was in the back of a truck. A quick hop, a concerning high-pitched yelp of "Mala drive?" and then a small audible slap as the vehicle started and began to travel. Looking at the Or'zet on his left and the Zeltron on his right that meant Cato had to be driving. The delinquent let out a sigh, then quickly lay flat on the truck as he spotted some Iron Crown security popping by.

"Whew." Case let out. He wasn't sure why. Iron Crown wasn't gonna bother with another company's squabbles, well, not unless the security felt it could justify some 'civil forfeiture'. Perhaps part of him was antsy. He'd never pulled a big job like this before, what with four- eh, five people on the take. Did that mean Case wasn't cool as a cucumber?

Well, a cucumber was pushing it. Case was cool, but only a little cooler than lukewarm. He tried not to let it show. If either of the two in the bed were naturally perceptive, or even just trying to case him, they'd probably realize this was his first go.

"Alright Gib, let's get this map made." Case said as they hung in the back. "We'll start with where the cargo is and then move from there." He prompted. He had made maps before, that wasn't too bad. Battle droids though? That was new. Definitely new.

[member="Mala"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Gib"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Cato Fett]

Rain fell and glassed with the cabin viewscreen, Cato pulling them into a close sidewalk lane nearest the oversized shop awnings. A back plasteel panel was unhooked and propped open with a stick of synth-wood and he partially followed Case and Gib’s conversation on makeshift cartography. Avenues of entry, security defenses (what Gib knew personally and what he could maybe fathom), what hardware would make for easier transport and liquidation into untraceable platinum or unmarked credit vouchers, how quickly or how slowly security on-site would reply to intrusion, how soon they could expect back-up forces to cordon off the area. They would need generous time windows; Cato tested the flatbed’s acceleration, pumped the air-brakes when traffic thinned behind the aft bumper. Steering handled with verve. He looped them on a circuit around the downtown block comprising of pachinko dens, dance parlours, drinking clubs, and dance bars. Shimmering holograms twisted in the air, swimming neon palettes across the hood.

“Just holler when you’re good back there,” Cato called through the window. Beside him, her dew-claws picking at the cracked leather upholstery, Mala was spearing him with glowers. Still sulky over being relegated to passenger seating. Hadn’t she secured the flatbed keys? Hadn’t she given them a much-needed asset? Did she not get some considerations? He played with the air-conditioning controls and began warming the cabin with soft, dry heat. Cato reached over, plucking her up by the scruff of her spine and plopped her onto his lap. Before she could protest, he held her paws onto the steering wheel, tugging at her wrists when to turn. His boots still controlled the floor pedals. Outside, at a traffic stop, a street-worker peered in through the passenger-side, smiling beneath a clear umbrella scoop mounted atop a long glowrod.

The orange-dye in her hair brought back Laira’s face. The flesh and all its needs, Cato thought. Then ignored the pang.

[member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"] [member="Gib"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Heron Graile]

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"] [member="Gib"]

In due course the speeder idled into an alley near the loading dock. Dinko snagged a small pistol from Gib's infinite duffel bag and hopped out of the truck. The ceiling panels ten yards up dripped graywater rain: a busted pipe. Wonderful omen. She blinked just so, and her vision overlays clicked on: sonic visualization and life-signs. Without a word, she stalked through the grimy rain, glancing through walls.

She came back to the truck maybe a minute later. "Three warm bodies inside. Species ID isn't working, so all I know is, they ain't Jawas or Hutts. What about it, Gib? Night guards, night crew, or something else? Three life signs, this time of night..." She ran her fingers through rain-slicked hair. "Well?"

 

[Not Ordo]

Gib looked at the woman, then he looked around and thought about it. Then he checked his chrono and thought about it again.

"Shouldn't be nobody but droids here right now." He said as he decided there shouldn't be anyone but droids here right now.

He looked through the bag and took out something that looked like it had a kick. He didn't really want to use it but he figured if he had to use it he would rather not have to use it more than once per droid. He hoped it didn't come to that but lots of people in the mids and lowers hoped for stuff. Didn't particularly make stuff appear any faster.

He took a large wrench from the truck's built in tool kit, that was a lucky thing to have and made sense too, then he hopped down and thought about how he hadn't finished the map for Case. So...he did that first, and then he got ready to go. Thing was he didn't know what was going on to account for some life signs to be by the loading dock.

"Um...I, uh, I think if we get in fast shut the loading bay doors and lock'em. We could load up and be gone before anyone inside can get the doors open and make things not fun." He said calmly but probably just optimistic rather than well thought out, "Probably won't need to shoot nobody that way at least. Maybe."

He was all in for robbing the corps, he figured they had it coming anyway, but he wasn't really the shoot the other slob looking for a simple paycheck type. At least he hoped he wasn't, but then there was that 'H' word again so who knows.


[member="Mala"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Cato Fett]

Flood lamps through the mist of greywater turned the evening chill even colder. Cato had retrieved, with some reluctance, a snug-carbine weighted with additional aftermarket on-rails, black plastic and steel attachments meant to lent it more ‘tactical’ function. It was a kid’s toy; spray painted in purples and golds, stenciled with a name, felt dice knotted through the trigger guard. He tested its handling, pleased the weight allowed for snap-movement, and kept up with Dinko through the long alleyway. HUD overlays spun up thermal and acoustic readings. Three heat-profiles, dulled with body armour, were dead ahead. They edged out into open dock space, through slants of shadow.

“I dunno, you the motherfether on ‘brain’ detail, so brain!” Aural sensors picked out voices ahead in a squat wharf-module.

“Look, the hardware was guaranteed to be held over until the shuttle comes with the morning. We just substitute the package, edit the primary manifests and blame it on typical ‘Taris interests – “

“The point’s not the plan, where the feth is the freight?”

“It’s here.”

“Then where, queen?”

“Feth’s sake: call up a droid, instruct it, follow it. Do I have to fething think of everything around here?”

A trio crowded a small mess-table heat-bolted into a corner of the long warehouse. Cato was sidled up beside an unrepaired slash split through the warehouse siding, spying inward. Three bodies, dressed against the mid-level below ground cold, wind and rain breakers, dark caps, and standard security issued weapon harnesses keeping unremarkable, heavy-yield blasters holstered off their waists. Spent styrene caff piled the table space. Cato reached and waved the others on, spying the trio rummage through linked datapads.

“Competition,” He murmured once bodies felt close enough. “Guards on the take, looks like. They may complicate tonight. We need to find our hardware soon.”

[member="Gib"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"]

 

[Mala]

Standing on Cato's lap and 'driving' cheered the squib up immensely. But tasted a shift in her Hunter, a different smell. She'd smelt it on him before, normally when he though she wasn't looking and something like sadness crossed his expression. It worried her, because it was something she couldn't fix, something she didn't know how to talk about let alone make go away. Before he slid from the cabin of the truck, she turned in his lap and hugged him tight, before bounding out before him.

The others were deliberating, discussing, inspecting. Mala understood two things from their conversation. 'Competition' and 'complication'. As Cato peered through the gap, Mala was carefully and quietly making it wider at his feet. She wriggled through, tugged at his trouser leg once on the otherside and beamed up at him.

"Hunter whistle, Mala will stop making noise and come. Go theiving."

She hugged the shadows cast by shelving units that reached the ceiling, before clambering up the nearest one, all the way to the top. A small jump and she was in the rafters, scampering along the beams until she was above the one neareat the trio. She lowered herself down, humming to herself quietly.

Humming wasn't enough.

"Ninety nine boxes of junk on the shelves,
Ninety nine boxes of junk,"

She picked up a box, tested its weight in her hands, peering over the edge. The trio were looking around for the source of the song, the acoustics of the warehouse ceiling playing with their ability to pinpoint it.

"If one box of junk, should accidentally fall-"

She launched the box into their midst and jumped for the rafters again. With the lights hanging below her she was impossible to spot.

"They'll be ninety eight boxes of junk on the shelves."

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Gib"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Heron Graile"]