Drone Strike Me, Please

[Gorba the Hutt]

​

KWENN SPACE STATION​

​

They came from near, they came from far, they came from damn well every star.

It was known in the Underworld that the Cabal was hosting a gathering on Kwenn Station in Club Tallifax, infamous for its week-long raves. Because the party don't stop until you drop.

Literally.

Gorba himself had deigned to take part in the festivities, though he had secluded himself away in the Il'Dorgo restaurant with some of his mightiest retainers. While he munched, the rest bunched.

Some took it upon themselves to use it as an opportunity to meet potential employers, others simply blasted their minds out with spice.

One of Gorba's elites certainly did not miss out on the action. His name was Dino and he loved to saur with the eagles after hooting with the owls.

Currently hopped up on some sort of designer drug, he danced by himself blissfully in a corner of the crowded club.

 

[Karsan Munin]

Blissfully dancing.

Blissfully unaware.

Beneath the heavy cotton cloak, lie the armor of Karsan Calnov. And under the armor, the man.

And he was seething. Rage filled his body. They wanted him dead. They failed so far. But he was going on the counter-attack now. Karsan Calnov, was going on the offensive again.

Karsan began to make his way through the electronic people dancing to robotic beats. Karsan Calnov, the Unforgiven bastard child of Strider, a merciless killing machine, was descending on his target. He wasn't heavily armed, but he wasn't lightly armed either. The cloak did wonders to hide his loadout, currently.

The trick to assassination or an attack in a crowded club was speed. Precision. The Super Commando knife- more like a stiletto, would do the trick. Karsan began to make his way to Dino, sauntering almost. He had laser-focus. He looked to his right, checking on something, but his eyes snapped back to the man in the corner. Tonight was not about information gathering. It was about sending a message to [member="Gorba the Hutt"].

I'm still here.

He pulled the blade up towards his wrist as he made his way ever closer to the drugged out elite of Gorba.

 

[Sal Katarn]

People did not get onto Kwenn Station without the Cabal knowing.

Especially ones who had murdered high ranking Kajidic lieutenants.

Especially when the damn Hutt was actually on station.

Katarn followed [member="Karsan Calnov"] through the press of bodies, hand on his pistol.

A Vodran guard pushed his way past a pair of bodies and stopped just in front of Karsan. He spoke, but the unce, unce, unce drowned out his words. And Vodran lips were damn well impossible to read, but Sal figured it was some version of "Stop and come with me."

Sal pulled his pistol and trained it on Calnov's back.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Kwenn Station - Outside Tallifax

​Tathra Khaeus wasn't a business man, nor a diplomat, assassin or common criminal. He was a titan on a mission; a sanctimonious goal that called all measures of severity into question. A mission that justified any brutality, including the disruption of a celebratory event. Tathra had no qualms with civilian casualty, however he intended on entering and leaving with no confrontation. However, this Galaxy seemed to savour the adrenaline surge of combat. It was strange, primitive. Their way of living was equally so.

​He stood at the doorway to Tallifax, towering nearly too high for the door-way to allow his passage. His massive form, stretching the distance between the two currently trembling bouncers. Their eyes seemed to move with curiosity over the Mutants form, examining his hide. The grey and crimson scales that made up the joints and flesh of his form, and the black volcanic rock like warped formations that made armour of his very own skin. His chest and legs were the only parts able of wearing armour, the silver ceramic plate cringing tightly to his robust form.

​The doorway opened, and Tathra moved with a distinct purpose, hunching as he entered; his golden eyes peering in from the darkness of the arched entrance as his form slowly gathered colour as light dawned on it, the neon blues, purples and greens dying his skin in a diluted and odd mess of colour. Many eyes landed on his form as the Mutant dragged his trunk like legs forward, stepping into the light fully.

​Eyes gathered more and more as the dance floor seemed to slow. He could feel their tension, he could almost see it. A Dravalan saw through infrared vision, all Tathra witnessed was a mesh of heat, slithering on the dance floor. Meat, and more meat. They were all the same.

[member="Sal Katarn"]​ | [member="Karsan Calnov"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"]​

 

[Karsan Munin]

A sinister chuckle came from Karsan's throat as he half-turned his head towards the man behind him. He only moved his left foot only slightly forwards.

"The Devils on my side, son. Don't be making a mountain out of an anthill. Go home and have a drink, don't get wrapped up in what I got goin' on."

He turned his head back towards the target, the lieutenant out in front. He flicked his eyes to the left again, ever slightly. But he knew the big beast was here already.

"Otherwise the Devil comin' through that door there will suck you dry like you're a yogurt tube."

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] l [member="Sal Katarn"] l [member="Gorba the Hutt"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Wanna dance, big boy?"

Cradossk flicked his tongue, tasting the pheromones and intoxicants in the air, and looked up from the dance floor. A curvaceous Twi'lek wearing mostly veils waited for an answer.

"You do your ssspeciesss a dissservissse by conforming to othersss' ssstereotypesss. Besssidesss, you'd be one of the few femalesss." He glanced from [member="Karsan Calnov"] to [member="Tathra Khaeus"] to [member="Sal Katarn"] to Dino, all down there on the dance floor or close enough. "It'sss a sssausssage fessst." Since she was probably a hostess on Gorba's payroll, he flicked her a couple wupiupi. "For your time. Have a nissse night."

 

[Sal Katarn]

Sal missed most of what the man said, except for the "son," to the deep bass thumping of Huttese EDM.

Hm.

The thirty-eight year old bounty hunter didn't take much to the cloaked man, tryin' to dry gulch someone by the look of that long knife. Besides, there was a price on the man's head.

Katarn aimed and fired in a smooth motion, sending a VT disruptor bolt straight for [member="Karsan Calnov"]'s right knee. It wouldn't disintegrate the man, but it could put a thumb-sized hole through pretty much anything in the galaxy.

Unfortunately, in the press of bodies, the smell of sweat, perfume, and pheromones, and the thrum of the D.J., Sal didn't catch the sly look toward the monster who'd just arrived.

[member="Cradossk"] | [member="Tathra Khaeus"]

 

[A'Runda]

Moving through the crowd, he lonely and nervous Tusken watched those they passed with concerned eyes from behind his mask. He honestly had no idea what he was doing here. He'd only been to one party off of his home world and it was not nearly as chaotic as this. It did remind him of the celebrations they had back at his clan. But even with the entire clan of Rok'urkus partying. This had way...way...way more people at it. A'Runda was very out of place. Kinda like a child that wondering into a rave.

Probably one of the only remaining sober people left in the large gathering he wasn't sure what he was still doing here. The whole time feeling this unspoken pressure to go along with the behaviors and activities. Should he just leave, or stick around until he's intoxicated and grinding up against some inviting female Rodian that has the hots for a Tusken? It was all very confusing, and what didn't help was the loud music that echoed within his mask. Or at least that's how it felt. But then through all the music and and people he felt like he heard a shot come from a weapon.

[member="Sal Katarn"]
[member="Cradossk"]
[member="Karsan Calnov"]
[member="Tathra Khaeus"]
[member="Gorba the Hutt"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Tathra slowly moved forward, like a ship passing through an ocean of bodies; unchallenged. The gargantuan Mutant glided through as civilians and on-lookers continued to move quickly from his path. The flashing lights that came from the ceiling attacked his senses, simply seeming queer and pointless to Tathra. He did not understand what amusement was gained from this form of celebratory activity.

​But he was aware of its popularity among the filth, the weak. Military humans often called them, civilians. A putrid lot. Many of which, individuals such as the Hutts took advantage of beings such as these. However, he also knew that bounty hunters, mercenaries and the like often frequented places such as these. Crowded areas, full to the brim with walking cover.

​Tathra was aware of a few, beings like him that saw much of the world as cattle. However, he was not here for a philosophical discussion. He was here for the Hutt, here for his own agenda in conjunction with Calnov.

​Tathra was a predator at heart, all his senses; everything about his form. He followed the sent of the Hutt, leading him to his left, and saw Calnov, nearby one of Gorba's Lieutenants. Tathra had no doubt he could deal with the Lieutenant himself, he saw two armed bouncers looking in his direction; one holding a small holo-com close, possibly speaking to his commanding Officer. Tathra made his way out of their site, he had no intention of being the subject of their discussion until his partner was ready to act.

[member="Sal Katarn"] | [member="Cradossk"] | [member="Karsan Calnov"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"]​

 

[Nekana Quane]

Kwenn Station - Inside Tallifax

Sausagefest wasn't a problem, most things weren't, being a contributor to the atmosphere, her pheromones, their pheromones, sweat, slick, bodies, bodies, bodies, drugs. She was here for the rave, here for the high, here to go hard until she runs dry. The behemoth caught her eye for, oh, maybe a moment, but the dust made it funny, the euphoria made her float above all, and see all.

What would he do with this?

There was something going on, but nothing her business, but knowing was knowing, and she could tuck it away for later. The twi'lek making a pass at the trandoshan? Too many veils. Why hide?

What the frak do I care? What would [member="Inon"] do?

Snort. Hiccgiggle.

WWID?

Wheezing hiccgiggle. She cracked herself up - wasn't that some slogan, somewhere?

"I need..." wheeze "...a drink."

Serves her right for not hydrating enough. She squeezed off to the nearest bartender for a guzzle.

 

[Simone]

How did one go about building up an intelligence network with enough schtick to garner information worth selling to the highest bidder but also making a difference in the path of the Galaxy? Well, first of all you made contacts, learned names and faces and studied your chosen contact carefully. Things to make note of? Who are their friends and their enemies? What do they like and dislike?

The Cabal was a breeding centre for the scum of the galaxy. Scum attracted scum but sometimes amidst all that scum you found something of worth. At least thats what she told herself and she cracked the Rodian hard across the face for making the mistake of assuming that because her skin was pretty and pink she was here for his entertainment.

Hell Simone didn’t even dress to invite such behaviours, combat boots, jeans, loose black shirt, leather jacket and a blaster strapped to her thigh, she didn’t exactly scream ‘dancer’ but it was simply the assumption. What else were Zeltrons for?

He wasn’t the first of the evening to hit the deck, and he wouldn’t be the last. She turned her back on him, pulling out a fresh cigarillo, her last one knocked on the floor in the brief scuffle, and lit it, before switching her attention back to the floor beneath her. Where had her tager of interest gone? Ah…

He stood out like a sore thumb, after all who wore a thick cotton cloak into a club. He had one of those faces too, from what she could glean in the shifting light, the sort that said “i’m angry and I brood too much over the death of my children.” Or some shid like that.

All the same, he’d caught the attention of one of Gorba’s lieutenants...but there was something else, something SImone did not recognise. Her lips moved, uttering the words ‘Let’s begin.” lost in the thrum of the music to any ears but her own. The PPV began recording at her command and Simone drew on the cigarillo and readied herself for the true entertainment.

[member="Tathra Khaeus"]@A'Runda [member="Sal Katarn"] [member="Cradossk"] [member="Karsan Calnov"] [member="Nekana Quane"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Tathra followed a small path, a break in the crowd toward the left hand side of the club, a small VIP upper level overviewing the dance floor. No doubt Calnov could handle whatever situation he got himself into. Tathra however had a deal in place, he was here for his people. Kwenn station's lower levels had been recently used for some strange dealings between Slavers and local mining operations. Or so, those were the shell companies that covered up the activities of those who'd rather not be seen.

​It was fortunate that Calnov had decided to pick a fight, it gave Tathra sometime to do what he was here for.

​Tathra would pull them out into the light, kicking and screaming. He knew Gorba was the one behind it. Or at the very least, involved or perhaps simply aware of it. Either way, he had more information that Tathra did; for now. The Mutant carried himself up the few steps ahead, golden eyes checking his right as he saw what many would consider a more 'candid' type of enforcer. Three total, at the top of the staircase, on his right. One, checking his com and alerting the others to Tathra's movement.

​There was a deal going on, behind those doors. A deal, a barter of the flesh and bone of his species. He felt his lower lip tremble, a tremor under his hardened skin as his eyes settled on the three armed bouncers guarding the doorway. The Dravalan had been caste down by their own home, Solaris was destroyed in a brutal cataclysm that left his people destitute and without leadership. It tore at his soul, for so many years he'd been a puppet while his own suffered. He may have been a Mutant, an outcast. But that only made him stronger.

​Three lowly humans weren't about to stop him. After all, all he could see was heat and flesh. They were just sacks of meat to him, not people. He had to get close, to see their features. But even then, the importance was lost on him. ​"Move, or you will be moved." ​He gave a single warning, however none of the three moved.

​At least, not away. The first, ahead of the other two held a rifle across his chest, attempting to rise the weapon to aim at the Mutant. However, with surprising speed, his massive rock like fingers had grappled the barrel of the weapon, its form bending in his grasp as he pulled back and thrust his knuckles into the bouncers chest, knocking him off his feet and into the doorway which Tathra wished to pass through.

​The second bouncer to his left didn't even have time to react, Tathra's fist cracked the side of his skull open like a grape whilst the last bouncer to his right aimed and attempted to fire, Tathra's free hand moved back; grappling over the muzzle of the blaster pistol. Still, the bouncer fired, the blast's sound almost entirely nullified by Tathra's hand and the music. Tathra's other hand swung back around, an overarching strike that took the third bouncer off his feet, knocking him back into a small corner table.

​Tathra threw his fist into the corner of the doorway, bending the metal enough to get his hand in, pushing it open by force. Tathra hunched down, feeling some slight desperation as he saw nothing from the glimpse he caught, throwing his form into the door, warping the door so much that it nearly broke from its hinges as he burst into the room with a stumble.

​Empty.

[member="Simone"] | [member="Nekana Quane"] | @A'Runda | [member="Sal Katarn"] | [member="Cradossk"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Karsan Calnov"]​

 

[Karsan Munin]

He could see the man move in his peripherals. Karsan Calnov was a fast man. A very, very, quick, brutally fast man. In close quarters, he could do a lot.

But he wasn't fast enough.

The shot didn't go through his leg, but damn if it didn't tear through the gap in his armor on his thigh and spray the poor floor with his inner workings. He fell forward, partially on purpose. He collapsed, his cloak that covered his armor sprawling over him like a sheet covering a corpse at a crime scene.

He sneered, feeling the taste of rusty blood in his mouth. His adrenaline flared. The situation went from bad to worse in about...a few too many seconds. He heard the crashing sounds of his beastly friend making short work of the bouncers.

He reached down to his waist, and simply turned his holster upwards- and rotated his body. And fired through the holster- and the shawl. The disruptor pistol wasn't even remotely bothered by the cloth. The rounds sped fast and steady towards [member="Sal Katarn"]'s chest cavity. Karsan was a professional- headshots were reserved for afterthoughts. He was going for the kill here.

But now he had a new problem.

He was bleeding.

Badly.

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] l [member="Simone"] l [member="Nekana Quane"] l [member="Gorba the Hutt"]

 

[Kat'Lariah Syphex]

The flame-haired smuggler sat at the bar whhile everyone else did...whatever it was they were doing. In all honesty, Kat couldn't careless, she was here to drink and drink she did. With a whole bottle of tihaar in hand, the woman had only just begin to feel a bit tipsy, a slight flush of color showing on her pale cheeks. A rather rude looking Rodian took this as an opportunity to try and make his moves. While Kat didn't quite understand exactly what was said, she did gather some rather derogatory slang. Setting her bottle down, the woman, "Oh you want this big boy?" she said in a seductive to manner to which the Rodian nodded with what passed for a smirk on his face. The Smuggler gave him a rather seductive look before ramming her knee into his groin. A loud crack as she slammed his head onto the counter and the Rodian thudded to the ground. "Well you can't have it." The woman picked up her bottle again and walked away without another word.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

[member="Tathra Khaeus"]

A ray shield sprang into place behind Tathra, sealing off the exit with a hum. A holoprojector in one corner of the ceiling activated and an image flickered to life.

The deeply smug laughter of a Hutt boomed out within the room's confines a moment before a hologram of Gorba's scarred face appeared in the air in front of Tathra.

"Keel-ee calleya ku kah, murishani." ​

 

[Sal Katarn]

The assassin went down, blood pasting the ground beneath him, cloak sprawling out. Katarn was about to squeeze the trigger again, when a triplet of bolts ripped through the cloak. The cluster of bolts took Sal in the chest, punching holes straight through his body, armor and all. The pain felt like fire and ice through his nerves and he let out a surprised grunt before falling backward like a dead man.

Sal's body hit the ground hard, hot blood quickly pooling under him, soaking through his clothes.

He didn't move.

Before much else could happen, the Vodran guard who had initially stopped [member="Karsan Calnov"] fired repeatedly at the Mandalorian's now prone form, with a wide-angle blaster set to stun.

 

[Nicair Claden]

Nicair knew very little about what the plan was moving forward. Plus he had been late arriving, he was a busy man. The music pounded outside of his helmet, the technology within helped to filter out the noise, a useful tool when hunting beasts that can screech loud enough to burst eardrums. What it didn't filter out was blaster fire, he made sure that stayed so he could track movements on a battlefield or a group hunt. The shots arrived slightly spaced out. One, then a flurry. Somebody got hit and had the chance to shoot back. The crowd hadn't disbursed near close enough for his pleasing but he figured he would have to locate his contact sooner rather than later.

Another volley of shots rang out, he was getting closer. He broke through a crowd gathered around a small scene, that's how he knew where to go. The first thing he noticed was a man lying on his back, blood seeping from wounds in his chest, not his contact. The one lying prone he could vaguely make out to be the man he was looking for, his blood came from around his knee, possibly thigh. A Vodran kept its blaster aimed at him but Nicair could easily assume the it had fired the last shots. Well that just wouldn't do.

Nicair's beskad was in his right hand in a flash as he lurched forward. The blade found its place between the guard's ribs, he gave another vicious thrust for good measure. Threat neutralized, now onto more pressing concerns. He knelt down next to his contact, asking him any questions right now would be pointless. That leg wound would bleed a little slowly with his lowered heart-rate but that wasn't going to last for long, it had to be dressed and soon. Nicair pulled the blaster from the Mandalorian's holster.

"You won't need this right now, hope it's okay that I borrow it." He'd need it to ward off any instigators.

[member="Sal Katarn"] | [member="Karsan Calnov"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Tathra Khaeus"]

 

[Azimuth Industries]

The blaster fire and subsequent killing spree had finally attracted the attention of the Kajidic retainers. As the screams of the crowd rose and people scrambled to get away from the blood bath at the center of the dance floor, Vodran, Nikto, and Klatooinian guards poured into the night club, their numbers interspersed with powerful Houk bruisers.

Dozens of guards shoved through the crowd, beating partygoers with the butts of their rifles or slaps of stun batons, and moved to form a circle around [member="Nicair Claden"], [member="Karsan Calnov"], and the two bodies on the ground. Their blasters leveled ominously.

[member="Cradossk"] | [member="Kat'Lariah Syphex"] | [member="Simone"] | [member="Nekana Quane"] | @A'runda

 

[Karsan Munin]

His victim slumped over. He should've shot Karsan more true. That was the problem with these people, they weren't efficient. They were brutal and had numbers, but they lacked finesse. Karsan was a scalpel- they operated like sledgehammers. But even sledgehammers hit their mark once and a while. And sometimes, a hammer was better than a knife.

Unfortunately for the guard that hit Karsan with a stun blast, sending his body into convulsive shocks, the knife happened to beat him. He looked up, seeing the familiar shape of a fellow vode using the business end to the man who shot him.

The bleeding couldn't be stopped on his own. He wouldn't come off of the stun effects for at least a few more minutes, if that. He reached up and grabbed the arm of Nicair, after he took the disruptor pistol off of him. He tapped his leg weakly with his free hand, trying to push off the effects, while bleeding. Blood loss was going to do him in if he didn't at least get some bacta in him, and stop the bleeding. The latter being the more important method.

The image of [member="Gorba the Hutt"] didn't surprise him. Vain sons of bitches. He had one eye left. Karsan was gonna spoon feed-it to him when this was all said and done. He just hoped his big, horned friend could do well enough on his own. Karsan managed to roll onto his back, but there was no way in hell that he could reach the tourniquet or even a bacta stim on his own.

Not a good start to a rampage, lemme tell ya...

Karsan clicked his teeth a few times. It was a peculiar sound, odd as they were beginning to be surrounded.

Like a signal.

[member="Kat'Lariah Syphex"] l [member="Tathra Khaeus"] l @Simone

 

[Kat'Lariah Syphex]

Kat (Or rather Kat's writer) had clearly missed something as the din of blasterfire filled the bar. The drunken Kat however, only partially oblivious to everything going on around her clumsily hauled herself onto the bar counter. "Hey! I'm trying to enjoy a nice drink here damn it!" she yelled throwing the almost completely empty bottle of tihaar at the nearest Mandalorian ([member="Nicair Claden"]) before loing her balance and crashing to the ground behind the bar with a loud thud.