Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Bump In The Night

ghost_recon_future_soldier_by_oscar13opt-d5ikamp.jpg
NADIEM​
0300 LOCAL​
Situation:​
A local gang has gotten out of hand and the government of Nadiem has asked the Republic Remnant to lend a hand. For weeks now, locals have been complaining of an increasing amount of harassment from a group of criminals who were suspected to be growing spice- until recently, they have been leaving the locals well enough alone. However, recently- the spice dealers have grown violent, committing acts of theft, burglary, vandalism, and destroying property. The locals want them taken care of before someone gets hurt.​
MISSION:​
Locate and eliminate key targets. Link up with local leaders to determine location of spice dealers in the AO.​
Enemy Situation:​
Suspected to be close to 40 hostiles in an undetermined location. Neutralize with extreme prejudice.​

The ride to Nadiem was quiet, each member of the selected team, a mix of Razor and Republic soldiers each fulfilling a different entity. For Setter, he was acting as the team lead. As soon as their dropship landed, they were quickly moving their way into the town. They were to meet Froya, what Setter would amount to a mayor of sorts in the heavily-privatized farmland of Nadiem. Nadiem had no real central government, they were loyal to the Republic Remnant but they weren't exactly electing representatives for every farming community that existed on the planet. Setter didn't blame them either. He wouldn't want a government that was hundreds of miles away and not involved with his business at all to be determining what he did with his time.

Plus, it seemed a little arbitrary with the amount of people that were on the planet to have a large, centralized government. Made sense to have small, local leaders like Froya. From what he was told, he was to rendezvous with Froya at her house, in the center of the town. Froya requested that they come under the cover of darkness as to not disturb the townspeople, and to keep their presence unknown from the spice dealers that were in the town.

Setter was on point, his eyes veering left to right. They were approaching Froya's house, close to about a hundred meters or so. To his left, he saw a tavern, or a bar, or whatever equated to that on this backwater planet. On his right, was obviously a brothel of some kind. If he was to find any of the spice dealers, criminals or ne'er-do-wells that were upsetting these nice people, well it was going to be in one of those places.

Clutching the suppressed rifle close to his plate carrier, he made his way towards Froya's home.
 
His old unit had been disbanded after Shanty squad had taken too many casualties leading up to the extraction from Coruscant. Razor squad would be his new home, and he was going to do his best to prove his worth as his new squad's demo-man. Still, he missed the banter that he had established between his old squadmates. Perhaps it was because he was new to the unit, but Razor squad seemed pretty serious. Maybe he would adjust to it, or maybe he could get some of them to lighten up. Only time would tell.

He kept his M-1016 rifle's safety off with the barrel pointed to the ground as he followed in formation behind [member="Setter Ryburn"]. He could worry about getting everyone to chill out later, tonight was going to be busy.
 
The walk to Froya's house was tense and quiet. Setter opened the door first, and let the squad into her spacious home. It was warm, lit by a fire in the opposite end of the room. He shut the door quietly, locking it behind him. The lights turned on, with Froya and other concerned townfolk gathered around her. They seemed initially surprised, the attire at which Razor and the attachments presented. Normally, people thought of Republic soldiers as white-armored guardians, not fatigue-wearing boogeymen.

Setter lifted up his night vision and stared at the woman, facepaint and mask covering his face. He pulled down the balaclava to allow the majority of his face to be shown.

She cocked her head at him and the rest of the team.

"You're here sooner than expected."

"We're here when we meant to be."

"We might have found them." She walked over to a nearby table, pouring himself something presumably strong and brown from a glass bottle. She offered some but Setter shook his head no. "They're about ten kilometers outside town- at least some of them. They have a tight grid, they've been getting nervous about how nervous we've been getting. Someone might have also told them that we were asking for help from you all."

He rolled his feet as she talked, looking between the gathered townsfolk. Hard-boiled, angry people. Angry that these strange men, with their guns, their gear, their grenades were in their homes. War was a far away prospect for most of them- they didn't like Setter and his friends. But they liked what they could do.

"We'll scope it out first."

She took a long swig. A hard drink for a hard woman.

"You can go ask one of them. There's three of them that hang out in the bar here, causing trouble. They might still be there- the bar is just closing up now."

Setter turned to the new guy. Kyle.

"You're up."

With that, Razor exited the building, heading across the street to the bar. Sure enough, the three of them were stumbling out of the bar- although one of them, a blonde human, seemed to be more sober than most.

[member="Kyle Tethair"]
 
Kyle nodded in response to Setter's order, "Got it, boss. Watch a master at work."

Kyle broke off from the rest of the squad and approached the two more drunk looking individuals head on. He had done his fair share of fighting drunken farm hands back home. It was almost always a good time when your opponents were this inebriated. He locked his eyes on the drunk to his left and extended his rifle stock toward him using only his left hand, "Evening sir, would you mind holding this for me?"

With a look of utter confusion, the first drunk sloppily gripped at the rifle. Kyle gave the rifle a strong shove with his left hand while his right hand slipped to the vibroblade handle on his hip. As the drunk on the left fell, Kyle pulled the blade up and quickly plunged it into the man on the right's side, he gave it an extra shove before withdrawing the blade to make sure the man fell theatrically before turning his attention to the most sober of the lot.

Kyle sheathed the knife and resumed holding his rifle with both hands as he walked toward the last man. "Get on the ground! Hands behind your head!"

As Kyle continued to shout the man to the ground at gunpoint, he held out his right arm gesturing the squad to come to his position.

[member="Setter Ryburn"]
 
He didn't say a word, Carud and Classact to were both silent, the trio of clones simply held in formation with shegmahs pulled up over the bridges of their nose. Two Jorins, one Mantis, all lethal. The rest of Derkolo was more or less settling in with the Remnant, Wyver was even considering retirement as crazy as it seemed. This op was a show of trust he supposed, the Remnant was hesitant to trust him or Classact after the Red Dawn, but this was their chance.

Suppressed slugthrower's were held tight against their chests as they watched the arguably least seasoned of the group move in. The kid wasn't half bad either. Towering over the others, the Dreadguard was the first to enter after Kyle gave the signal, the massive Sith-Killer at the head of a three man 'V'. The scum on the floor were for the most part piss drunk, they were going to be belligerent, stubborn, their types always were. Snitches didn't last long, and they knew that.

So Dish would show them they meant business.

Within an instant he'd brought a boot down on the first drunk's head, hard. A wet crunch filled the air as superhuman strength pulverized the thug's skull and his body went limp. The one at gunpoint pissed himself.

"First one to talk lives."

The rest was up to Setter.

[member="Kyle Tethair"] | [member="Setter Ryburn"]​
 
Setter put a round between the third guy's eyes as he was in shock from what happened to his other buddy, just to make sure the dreadguard didn't leave the man suffering. If anything, Setter was a medic still- merciful, in a way.

He complied with the team, putting his hands behind his head. He was shaking. The man on the ground wanted to vomit, to cry out. But he was in fear for his life. Setter dropped to a knee and pulled his handgun out, putting the suppressed slugthrower next to the man's temple.

"He'll be nice. He'll be nice about how he kills you. But I won't. So you'll tell me where your friends are, and you'll spend the next twenty years in some poodooty jail, eating poodooty food and I won't think twice about you ever again. But you don't tell me where your friends are, I'll do a scan on this whole damn planet. I'll find them, it might take a week or two, it might take a long time. But I will find them. I will find them and I will kill them. I will kill them all. Now you can either tell me where they are now-"

He kicked the man onto his back and put the barrel right into his eye socket.

"Or you'll die here and now, and do nothing but annoy me."

He pulled the hammer back and looked up at Kyle and the rest of the team for a split second.

The little birdy on the ground sang.

Thirteen kilometers north-west. Two separate compounds. One for production and refinement, and the other was the farm itself. Spice was bad for the land. The locals wouldn't be too upset if they burned it all and let the ash fertilize the ground for a change.

He let the Mantis clone hand the drunken idiot off to the locals. If they turned him in, oh well. If they didn't- he wouldn't be surprised if the livestock were well fed for a while. Setter rotated and let the team circle around him.

"We hit the production and refinement facility first and foremost. Destroy their stock. Burning the field will be easy enough. We'll get transpo from the locals...Kyle, that's your job. Dish. Get whatever unmanned assets you can to get a view on that facility. Call in favors, if you have to. Get a map from the locals, something, anything on that farm they got. I'm gonna go do some interviews with the people- see what we can find out from them. It's late, but they'll be happy to get rid of these crooks."

Setter did a brass check on his weapon and looked at his team.

"Get to it."


[member="Dish"] l [member="Kyle Tethair"]
 
Arranging transport. It wasn't glamorous, but Kyle could do it. "Consider our rides arranged."

Kyle took his leave from the group and walked back to Froya's door. He began to tap his knuckles against the door, but recalled how the squad lead had let himself into the room and decided to follow the example set forth.

He grabbed the door handle, and surely enough the door wasn't locked. He slipped into the dark room full of villagers, who all turned their heads to look at the boogeyman as he entered. Kyle directed his request to Froya, "Your lead on the drunks was good, but now we need one more favor. We need to borrow some transport."

A somewhat reluctant look appeared on Froya and the other villager's faces, but no one outright denied his request.

"The Republic military can reimburse any possible damages fully."

He didn't know if it was true, but he spoke like it was fact. Someone in ops planning could arrange for it to be so later. Froya went around the room, collecting landspeeder ignition keys from villagers who were willing to risk their transports possibly being shot at. She collected four keys in total before contributing her own and handing them to Kyle.

"All of these speeders are parked behind this building. Just make sure that you get all of those thugs.." She said.

"We will."

He reached for the door handle, pulled it open, and slipped back into the night.

[member="Setter Ryburn"] | [member="Dish"]​
 
Information retrieval, recon, the works, one would think the Dreadguard was out of his element, but they'd be wrong. Before the procedures, or at least the ones that made him the way he was now, he'd been an ARC, chit like this was their bread and butter when they weren't in the middle of the heavy stuff. The group split up, Classact went about information from the locals and the like, stuff he could win over with his polite demeanor and charm. To this day Dish had no idea how the man was a clone of The Wolf of Mandalore, from what he knew they weren't the slightest bit alike, but rumors were rumors and maybe he was wrong. Didn't know, didn't care.

Carud moved out of the city and had another asset deployed, DG-45. The Dreadguard sniper was more a machine than man, and acted accordingly, but the M120 SASR that he wielded with such deadly efficiency had a range of five clicks, which gave Razor their own artillery more or less. Not to mention '45 had a small drone used to take shots at such a range. He was a useful asset, but one couldn't drag him into a civilian populace, the armor he wore more or less kept him alive, and wasn't exactly subtle. Regardless, '45 would be in position by the time they made their move.

Dish took up the task of getting maps. He went around, store to store, vendor to vendor, until he came across a Twi'lek selling fruit out of a cart, who at the very least claimed to have a map for them. "How many credits?"

"Depends what you're gonna use if for, you gonna try and buy out some of our land? We don't need no more troublesome folks here."

The clone remained expressionless, holding back a chuckle. He was standing before the woman with a weapon across his chest and cloth hiding most of his face, but not the litany of battle scars on it. If he had any plans about giving the natives trouble, he wouldn't have been offering to pay. "Only trouble for people who aren't supposed to be here." He pointed to the criminal's farm on the map to drive the point home. The twi'lek nodded, seeming almost relieved.

"S'yours then. No need to pay." She replied, offering up the map to the soldier. With one hand he took the map, with the other he set credits in her palm. As a clone, he'd never been paid for what he did, he was more or less the property of the Republic, and the Alliance had paid him, but he never used it. The little chits hardly mattered to him, all he needed was a cause to keep him fed and fighting, the rest all seemed pointless.

"The Republic takes care of its own." He stated, turning on a heel and moving to join back up with the others. It was time they took care of the disease blighting this planet.

[member="Kyle Tethair"] | [member="Setter Ryburn"]
 
Setter had an easy time getting the deep scoop on their soon-to-be-departed criminals. The locals were easy to talk to, more willing than other places he had gone to. They had given him an accurate description of the farm, and several trails to take. One hunter told him about a path that was safer for speeders, and wouldn't disturb the animals, giving away their position to the enemy prematurely. A useful thing to know, especially in an environment like this.

He laid the map that [member="Dish"] had gathered, and nodded at Kyle as the team reassembled to go over the plan.

He traced a half-circle from their approach point.

"This is a small hill overlooking the farm. Not big enough for us all, but maybe two or three guys. That being said, Class and Carud, you're going to setup an overwatch prior to us arriving. Observation for about thirty minutes, to confirm what intel I got from the locals, first off." He put three bullets on the map around the table that Razor was gathered around, representing the teams. He took the rounds out of his handgun and placed them around the farm.

"Locals say the gang has grown to about thirty or forty guys recently. Ne'er-do-wells, drunkards. Started working for them a while ago. Won't be missed, they got exiled for a reason. Farm area is mostly unoccupied at night. It's about a kilometer from the actual processing facility. Lots of lights, lots of noise. We can move in under the rising sun, coming in from the east. Keep our backs to the sun, they won't be able to get a good read on us."

He moved the first bullet.

"Me, I'll start the assault North-west. I'll open up on the guards after the overwatch position has begun firing."

He pointed at Dish and Kyle. He moved a second bullet just to the right over the overwatch position.

"You two will peel out and breach the main door- here."

He marked an 'X' on the map where the door was on the building.

"After that, the rest of the team will breach in at the opposite ends of the room, while the Overwatch shifts to cover us from the nightcrew that will probably be in the fields, based on what the locals have told us."

He pushed the handgun bullets, representing the enemy around the building.

"If they run, the overwatch should catch the squirters. They're lightly armed, small blasters and maybe a few rifles, but nothing on the planet equates to what we're carrying. They also don't have optics, so distance is on our side as well."

He curled his knuckles on the table, thinking over the plan for a moment.

"We get in, kill 'em all, then leave with a smile. Locals will take care of the clean up. Burying their own dead and whatnot."

[member="Kyle Tethair"] l [member="Dish"]
 
Kyle studied the makeshift map from his end of the table. It seemed like a solid plan, but dealing with forty hostiles with such a small force wouldn't be an easy task.

Once Setter was done speaking, he tossed a jumble of keys onto the center of the map. "The villagers were willing to give up five vehicles for our rides. Not sure what we'll find, but Froya said that each of the vehicle's that these keys belong to were parked out behind her building."


He fiddled with his rifle as he spoke, and checked to ensure that all of his ordnance was still properly attached to his belt. He was used to wearing standard infantry armor, he felt somewhat naked without it here. He would have to requisition something more bulky after this mission.

[member="Setter Ryburn"] | [member="Dish"]​
 
Kill 'em all.

Sometimes people debated if things really were that simple, if one could simply take life on a whim and chalk it up to duty without repercussion. Dish knew the answer, and it was yes, not one of the lives he extinguished today would come back to haunt him in the slightest. They'd chosen their path, he'd been given his, it was a simple as that. The Dreadguard nodded in compliance with Setter's orders.

"Let's get to it then."

(Short one, but needed to get something out)

[member="Kyle Tethair"] | [member="Setter Ryburn"]​
 
The ride to the outskirts of the facility was quick, quiet, and uneventful. The sniper team dismounted en route, moving quietly along the bottom of the ridgeline they were supposed to be setting up on.

The rest of the team, meanwhile, continued on in the borrowed speeders. They had half an hour to get into position. Roughly.

However, like all plans, like most things, it all went south.

Lights. Lots of them.

The entire production and farming facility flicked on with bright-blue-white spotlights, fixed on the speeders.

"WE'VE BEEN SOLD OUT!"

A E-Web, or a automatic blaster, opened up on the lead vehicle, striking the vehicle that Setter was riding in, and peppering his driver with bolts. He was dead on impact.

"KARK! DEAD DRIVER, DEAD DRIVER!"

As brutal as it was, each man knew his value, and once you were dead...you had none in a combat situation. He'd receive a proper burial, funeral rites, and farewell from the team. As well as revenge. But for now, Setter needed to control the speeder before it got bad. He shoved the Razor team member out- and sent him sprawling out in the field. The man was at least, facing the stars.

Men had loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. He died unafraid of anything. He was a good man. He would be remembered.

Setter took control of the speeder, bringing it to a swerving stop. A blaster bolt ripped through the engine block, sending it sprawling into the ground. Setter pulled his RS16 out, and took cover behind his speeder. Turns out, also- they were wrong. There wasn't 40 guys.

There was a lot more.

A whole lot more than that.

Setter peaked over, and dropped two rushing their position with four shots, two to each of their chests.

He touched his throat mic.

"WE NEED EXTRACT NOW!"

Setter's vehicle, and the two other Razor squadmates with him, were close to a hundred meters away from the other speeders at this point. But in a kinetic firefight like they were in, that might as well have been miles.

[member="Dish"] l [member="Kyle Tethair"]
 
The landspeeder that Kyle and three other troopers were riding in suddenly flipped as the vehicle's repulsorlift triggered a mine previously hidden beneath a small re-covered patch of earth.

Before he knew it, Kyle was looking up at star speckled sky, laying on his back in the middle of unharvested farmland. If it wasn't for the deactivated speeder that was on fire next to him, he could have easily mistaken his current situation for a memory that he had of the Tethair farm back home.

But there was a speeder on fire next to him, and there were Republic soldiers being fired at, himself included. He forced himself to his feet and fell back through several rows of unharvested Salakberry bushels. As he went, he unhooked the Mk. 3 Light Ordnance launcher from his back, loaded a smoke grenade into it, and fired it in an arc at the crashed speeder.

Smoke began pouring out into the field from the crashed speeder's position. It would buy him and the retreating survivors in his group some time as they began falling back.

[member="Setter Ryburn"] | [member="Dish"]​
 
The Derkolo's were used to it, maybe more than anyone. The three clones had been born only to fight, the death of their families, their comrades, it had become the norm. In an instant, the E-Web gunner laying into them exploded into a shower of gore. An instant later two more practically evaporated. Nearly a kilometer away, DG-45 was operating a high powered gauss rifle meant for piercing the armor on Gurag's and Sith protective vehicles into unarmored criminals. They never stood a chance.

"Inbound, stay alive!" Dish bellowed into the communicator in his helmet. Dish's speeder sped towards Setter's position, the minds of its occupants solely on ensuring the survival of their comrades and nothing else. The betrayal did not matter, enemy numbers did not matter, only rescuing their brethren did. As numb as they were to loss, never would they simply roll over and accept it.

'45 continued laying into enemy forces, behind cover or no hostiles were being reduced to nothing but blood smears across their fortifications. Dish knew '45's lack of verbal communication made him difficult to work with, but it was times like these they appreciated him most. You could run, you could hide, you could wear inch thick power armor with shields, the Devil of Dagobah was still going to get you.

[member="Kyle Tethair"] | [member="Setter Ryburn"]​
 
The volume of fire on both sides was impressive to say the least. The incoming fire to the Republic troopers was massive, due to the sheer numbers against them. However, Setter remained relatively calm, dishing out orders and commands in an effective, timely manner.

The smoke screen provided let Setter and the other trapped troopers regroup into the speeder that Dish and friends brought up to them. Setter dived in, rolling into a shooting stance, shooting from the top of the speeder. They had a few options, but Setter didn't want to lead them back to the village.

They were outnumbered, outgunned-

And they expected them to retreat, to run away. But they probably weren't counting on them counter-attacking. Setter threw his hand up and made the motion to go forward.

"BUDDY RUSH!"

Bounding. Moving and shooting. Staple of the infantry diet.

They were now going towards the criminals. Setter rolled out of the moving vehicle, taking a knee in the waist-high grass, and stood up. He popped three, moving left to right, letting the recoil of his RS16 pop each of them in the dome.

He pushed forward with another Razor squad member- they had roughly a hundred meters before they were in knife-fight distance of each other. It now was on the team to determine if they could push back the ambush or not, and complete the mission. Setter, however, was ironclad in his obvious choice.

[member="Dish"] l [member="Kyle Tethair"]
 
The cover of the smoke grenades had provided Kyle and the two surviving Razor squad soldiers with him an unexpected opportunity.

They had been able to use the cover of the smoke to regroup with Setter and Dish's position relatively unimpeded by the criminal scum occupying the facility's outer walls.

The criminals still in the field were really going to regret that.

Kyle and the two men with him didn't beeline it for Setter's position though, they instead had opted to take up post ahead and to the side of the main Razor group in an attempt to flank the ambushers.

Kyle and the two other men dove prone amidst the rows of crops they now found themselves between. Blaster fire from Kyle's rifle and the pellets of two slugthrower rifles sailed towards carefully selected criminal-deemed targets in the field ahead of their comrades.

[member="Setter Ryburn"] | [member="Dish"]​
 
The amount of explosions and the volume going against the ambush was a surprise to be sure, but not necessarily unwelcome for Razor- rather unfortunate however, for the would-be spice cartel.

Setter was less concerned about being sold out than being killed at the current moment, but he would settle for immediate revenge. Any member of Razor squad getting deep-sixed on his watch was not going to go unpunished.

Setter was closing in one the threat- and took a large bound. He crossed the landscape, bolts and rounds going across the grass field. One torched the grass near him, missing him by an inch. He ducked down, enveloping him in the tall grass. When Setter appeared next on the horizon, he was standing next to one of the men who started the ambush. The Trandoshan looked genuinely shocked.

He locked eyes with Setter, right before Setter put a round through his skull. The Trandoshan crumbled over, dead on arrival. Setter turned put two more into the chest of another one, and then a clean headshot into a third. Setter operated methodically and true to his name, like a blade's edge.

He ducked down and threw a grenade into a collection of them. Razor now had a chance to push up. The line was broken, and the ambush was not looking too favorable for anyone who wasn't Razor. Setter turned and gave a hand and swiped it across horizontally. Weapons free. A common hand and arm signal in the Republic, popularized by one Kaiden Rohn- it was part of Razor's Mantra.

Kill 'em all.

No survivors.


[member="Dish"] l [member="Kyle Tethair"]
 

Mason Reznov

We are all soldiers, without an army. Betrayed. Fo
Mason had just been given his assignment to Razor Squad by operation command, and his acceptance from Setter Ryburn. Mason had heard many things about Setter, respectable things. Mason was hoping this squad would be full of discipline and execution. As soon as he was assigned, The Republic set him on a transport straight to the squad's location for deployment.

It was a giant venator that took him to the planet, but it was a unit transport ship that brought him to the actual location of the squad. The ship was filled with several Republic troopers, as command assumed the squad could use some back up. Mason was looking down the whole time, watching the battle taking place in the field. It was clear the squad could use the help. As the transport ship bounded very highly above the field, Mason and the troopers jumped out of the ship launching themselves down to the field. As soon as they got close enough, everyone activated parachutes. Mason came down from the sky right next to [member="Setter Ryburn"].

"Good to see you, Commander. I'm that specialist you just approved for entry into the squad. Let's kill stuff." Mason would yell to his commander.

Immediately after saying this, he'd turn to the enemy and unsling his blaster rifle. He'd aim forward and begin blasting down enemies in their damaged front line.

[member="Kyle Tethair"] | [member="Dish"]
 

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