Faction End of Cisco | A Black Sun Story

[Zunn Zenraj]

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Nar Shaddaa burned in silence.​

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Not the sort of fire that drew headlines or planetary lockdowns but the slow, smoldering purge of influence. In the shadows cast by neon-lit towers and rotting durasteel slums, Black Sun moved with purpose and unity not seen since the formation of the Hutt Space Consortium. ​

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The Underlord had declared the Smuggler’s Moon ripe for harvest, their network of slicers, enforcers, and crime bosses had begun moving through the planet’s bloated underbelly like a swift vibroblade.​

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But as always, someone refused to bow and that someone was very dangerous indeed.​

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Cisco. ​

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A herglic brute with the brains to match his bulk, Cisco had managed the impossible coalescing Nar Shaddaa’s fractured gutter-gangs such as the Kintan Kings, Night Brokers, Bleeders into something vaguely resembling a unified force called the Quintex. Spice Runners, stim-pushers and even ex-Hutt Cartel loyalists and the occasional desperate merc had flocked to his banner once the Black Sun had pushed them out of their territories. ​

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It wasn’t a true syndicate. Not yet. But it was loud, visible, and worst of all, defiant.​

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That made it a threat.​

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Reports placed Cisco in a fortified estate deep in the Old Quarter, surrounded by his lieutenants and ringed with armed bodies more loyal than smart. He thought he could build a rival empire. But empires required permission. And the Black Sun had given none.​

​

The order came swiftly.​

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The Underlord’s agents were dispatched in order to prove themselves to the syndicate and to send a message that resistance wasn’t just crushed it would be erased from the very heart of the Smuggler’s moon. Cisco had made a name for himself on the back of chaos and half-deals in the city sub-sectors. Now his name would be spoken in warnings, if spoken at all. ​

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The operation begins tonight​

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Option 1: Go Through It.​

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Black Sun Enforcers lead packs of Soldiers in a frontal assault against Cisco’s compound. The Quintex will fight by tooth and nail, but their time is limited whether they realize it or not. Unleash the Underlord’s wrath upon the enemy and show them that Black Sun is the only power on Nar Shaddaa.​

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Option 2: Go Under It.​

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While Black Sun’s muscle works to tear down the estate from the outside, the Assassins and a team of slicers aim to infiltrate Cisco’s lair via an abandoned tunnel network beneath the surface levels. Discretion is key to accessing the estate without alerting the Quintex, but the tunnels are full of security turrets and feral wildlife. Bypass their defenses and bury a vibroblade in Cisco before he even knows what hit him.​

​

 

[Rostam Khavarzai]

Nar Shadda
Option 2: Go Under It.

Cisco, a bruising Herglic, had managed to unify several street gangs under a single banner: Quintex. With so much muscle at his back, he posed a real threat of seizing control of the planet's underworld. The underlord would not tolerate such ambition. There would be no rival syndicates. The Black Sun owned these streets. As a master assassin of the Night Wind, Rostam was contracted to ensure that Cisco would never rise again.

He accepted the job without hesitation.

The operation was divided into two teams. The first would launch a direct assault, drawing attention and overwhelming the outer defenses. The second was tasked with infiltration. Slip beneath the compound. Find Cisco. End him. Rostam couldn't help but wonder if the first team was merely a diversion, expendable cannon fodder meant to pull eyes away from the real strike. If they were strong enough to fight their way through, perhaps they'd earn the kill themselves. But if not, it would fall to the blades in the dark. Perhaps that was the point. A test. A measure of how far each of the underlord's new agents could go... and how many could be replaced.

Black boots trudged through the pipes of an abandoned tunnel beneath the Herglic's lair. Nothing remained in the depths of these tunnels but rodents and rot. Rostam was no stranger to such infiltrations. As a master of acrobatics, he navigated the decaying passageways with effortless precision. Between the hiss of leaking steam and the skitter of the occasional rat of some kind, his steps made no sound.

A silent infiltration, however, required two things: high ambient noise and a blind spot. The assassin followed the echo of distant machine pumps reverberating through the chambers, listening for the low buzz of ancient, poorly serviced generators. Eventually, after carefully avoiding loose stones and chunks of broken duracrete, he came upon a rusted maintenance hatch. Its surface was thick with mildew and soot, undisturbed. That, in itself, was telling. Had the area been maintained or even patrolled by Cisco's men, there would have been signs: smudged grime, scraped metal, a trail in the filth. There were none. Kneeling, he drew a small vibro-pick from his belt and sliced through the corroded lock with practiced ease. Slowly, he eased the hatch open. It groaned faintly on its hinges and revealed another tunnel beyond, reeking of old oil and stagnant air.

As he slipped through the hatch and the small maintenance tunnel. Not soon after, he could feel the gust of warm air, cutting through the smell of oil and mildew. A service vent, tied to the lower levels of the Cisco compound. He could climb through the ventilation system and directly into the lair. The blind spot he needed. As he grew closer to the vent, he realized it would be a tight fit. He listened to see if he could hear the sounds of any patrols or fighting before he would make the climb.

 

[Jek Raynar]

Objective 1: Go through with it!
Allies around:???
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Ah! Gang wars!

Blaster fire lit up the alleyways like a storm of blue lightning. Jek Raynar ducked behind a half-melted swoop bike, the air thick with smoke, the stench of blood, ozone, and burnt plastic choking his lungs. His eyes watered slightly and stung from it all. Then a Quintex runner leaned too far out of cover, and Jek snapped his .48 Caliber Enforcer pistol up and painted the wall with what could of passed a some abstract piece of art. He would of stopped to appreciate it too, if it wasn't for the slugs and plasma flying through the streets. There was no time to feel anything. Not here. Not on Nar Shaddaa. He pressed on, moving fast, low, stepping over corpses still twitching. Some Black Sun, some Quintex, it didn't matter. They were all part of the frag festival now.

A fragmentation grenade rolled into his cover and his eyes went large. It was that sound, that hollow bounce. Grabbing the nearest corpse, he used it like a shield, curling tight as the blast rocked the street, spraying hot shrapnel and bone in every direction. His ears rang. Wind knocked out his lungs and attempting to sit up from his arse. He spat blood. Some of it wasn't his. Across the way, a Quintex thug was dragging a wounded soldier toward cover. Idiot. Struggling to recover his balance Jek slipped out from the smoke and cracked on his vibroknuckler, the low whine the only warning that his frustrations were about to be exorcised from him. With a sloppy leap and slide over a speeder, Jek landed rough and drove his fist into the thug's jaw, then his ribs and finally ending it a coup de grace.

 

[Yael Kandar]

PURPLE RAIN

A Brave New World - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENTS: Mini dress
Blaster pistol
Viberknife
OBJECTIVE: Acquire the dossier
Kill Cisco
TAG: Open

Spoiler: THEME

OLD QUARTER, NAR SHADDAA

The alarm that’s blasting all around the fortified estate has turned what was a usual day in Cisco’s residence to a chaotic mess. Ex-Consortium members and contract workers that have been gathering in the estate to form a controlling power that Nar Shadda hasn’t seen since the heyday of the Hutt Syndicate Consortium are quickly, in a slightly disorganized manner,running towards each of their intended stations in an emergency situation such as this one.

Disguised as a substitute resident singer-slash-entertainer, Yael leveraged the chaos to separate herself from the pack of panicking leisure workers and rushing soldiers, and towards her targets.

She knows that, if anyone is smart enough to notice, their eyes would directly be looking at the substitute entertainer who just happened to be here at this unfortunate day. She also knows that there is nothing that would stop rivals Black Sun Assassins from gunning her down to get to the target, either unknowingly or not. Yet she still has to make sure that she is making it out alive with her main objective fulfilled. As risky as it is, this mission would get her closer towards her main goal in joining the Black Sun; Wealth, Power, Resources, all to one day assume control over Manda’yaim. All the risks she is taking, the pheromones assaulting all her five senses, will be worth it when the time comes.

Coming in unarmed and unprotected, in the backless dress she wears as part of her disguise and with her infused exoskeleton removed for this particular mission, she had to swipe a blaster pistol and vibroknife in-between her walks, and pray to the Old Gods that she is quick enough to avoid any dangerous situations.

She manages to make her way to the server room, taking out a guard and two contract workers swiftly with the non-silenced blaster, before inserting her slice-drive to one of the machine to get the dossier that the Underlord’s bastard brother is tasking her to acquire.​

 

[Zunn Zenraj]

Crime Lord Cisco ; Master of the Quintex
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Cisco relished the sound of music, especially as the Bith musicians played their signature jizz, much to the enjoyment of his criminal court. It had required some persuasion and even a bit of blackmail to compel the various gutter gangs to submit to him in order to establish the Quintex; they had little choice, especially with the Black Sun Syndicate attempting a power grab on a traditional Hutt Cartel moon.​

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"That Underlord fool has no clue who he is dealing with; soon my influence will stretch beyond this miserable moon to the neighboring planets. Nothing can stop this... so declares Cisco." The Herglic let out a hearty laugh, sipping from the drink offered by a passing service droid while his attendants catered to his every whim, setting up terminals to monitor the estate. ​

He did not yet realized that the Black Sun was making a move this quickly to depose him. ​

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Option 1: Go Through It. Jek Raynar ​

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The conflict between the Black Sun and the Quintex had escalated dramatically, with blaster fire shaking the buildings and leaving a gruesome pile of bodies in the streets. Some might refer to it as just another day on Nar Shaddaa, but that would be a mistake, as this pivotal battle would determine the allegiance of Smuggler's Moon. ​

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Cisco was no fool when it came to defending his fortress; he had recruited the finest thugs that credits could buy, including those with military experience and others fleeing the oppressive grip of the Sith Empire and the Galactic Alliance.​

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As Jek Raynar dispatched the thug in front of him, a more significant threat emerged: a Dowutin Hunter appeared from an alley near the estate, brandishing a powerful modified starfighter blaster that could turn the man into mincemeat.​

Option 2: Go Under It. Rostam Khavarzai Yael Kandar ​

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Things were not looking much better for Rostam Khavarzai , as the mechanical hissing of Hutt Security Droids echoed from the other side of the ventilation shaft. Although these droids were significantly outdated and barely operational, their extensive array of weaponry would be more than sufficient to scare off any intruders who might inadvertently stumble upon the underground entrance to the compound.​

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Meanwhile, in the server room where Yael Kandar was working, the terminal emitted a faint sound as its hard drive was being accessed. A variety of files, from account details to transportation routes for spice, flashed on the screen, but only briefly before the terminal could establish firewalls to prevent further intrusion. It would take her some time to bypass these barriers, leaving her vulnerable to ongoing threats.​

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[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

O B J E C T I V E - 1
Go Through It ​

The scream of Kinley Pryse's speeder bike cut through the neon haze as she weaved between low-hanging signs and rust-stained towers. Air thick with smoke and the tang of ozone whipped past her face as she accelerated, eyes fixed on the skyline where Cisco's compound loomed like a stubborn blister on the moon's underbelly. Behind her, Black Sun enforcers surged forward in packs, disciplined, brutal, and hungry for blood. They weren't just here to send a message. They were here to finish something.

Her comm crackled to life in her ear. "Underlord says no survivors. No mercy." Kinley didn't respond. She didn't need to. Her blaster was charged, her mind focused, and the stims that Flint had forced in her system made the world sharp, fast, electric. Cisco's guards opened fire first, panicked bolts stitching the night as they rained down from jury-rigged turrets and gang towers. But Black Sun was ready. Return fire lit the air, Enforcers carving a path straight up the gut while others flanked from side alleys and rooftops.

The Quintex would fight like wounded nexu, cornered and lashing out. But Kinley knew the truth, they were already dead. They just didn't realize it yet.

She pulled hard on the throttle, rising up the side of a durasteel column, then vaulted clean off the top with a twist, landing with a bone-jarring crunch inside the the perimeter where a Dowutin Hunter was about to turn Jek Raynar into a smoldering pile. With a sharp flick of her wrist she opened fire from the speeder bike, hopping to stop the hunter in his tracks.

A Smooth Criminal

 

[IG-44]

O P T I O N - 1
G O - T H R O U G H - I T​

​

Blaster fire scorched the air of the Old Quarter, perhaps a familiar sight for its denizens but there was an unusual zeal in the attackers. This wasn’t another Hutt turf war, it was a problem being solved... a message being sent.

Cisco had formed a little band of guttersnipes and thugs, surrounded his estate with them, and hoped that Black Sun wouldn’t notice that he was playing castle. Unfortunately for Quintex, they did. Now, just like the rats they were, it was time for Black Sun to exterminate them.

If IG-44 had a mouth, he'd salivate. Instead, he settled for the mechanical catharsis of blasting Cisco's guards into pieces with his deadly arsenal of black market weapons.

Fortyfour's bifurcated head spun in terrifying circles as his red photoreceptors scanned the estate walls for additional targets. The warmth of their organic bodies looked like bright beams of light through the assassin droid's thermal sensors. They were easy enough to dispatch. He rotated his metallic frame, swinging a blaster rifle upon a pair of Nikto gunmen and opened fire without skipping a beat.

"Die, Quintex dogs," IG-44 taunted in a synthesized voice that was deep and ominously monotone despite the explosive conflict surrounding him. Sparks from missed shots and the glow of flying blaster bolts gleamed on Fortyfour's crimson plating, making him that much more intimidating to the low-tech Hutt gangsters.

He stepped forward, moving between stacks of crates as he fired at anything that moved. Even when he didn't detect a threat, he held suppressing fire on their last known positions. Upon reaching a burned-out airspeeder, the ducked and used the brief respite to replace the tibanna canisters in his blasters. They popped free from their housing with a hiss that was nearly inaudible against the fighting.

A communications line was raised, delivering to 44 the same message that the rest of the Black Sun soldiers were given:

"Underlord says no survivors. No mercy."

Good thing, too. Those crispy Niktos certainly didn't survive, and neither would the trio of thugs on the other side of this airspeeder. IG rose quickly from his position and dashed with mechanical efficiency, blasting accurately with the help of his internal gyroscopes. Two of the thugs went down, but the third took cover before IG's bolts could nail him. It was only a minor setback.

Fortyfour stepped around the man's cover to find that he'd dropped his blaster while dipping out of sight. He threw a hand toward the pistol, but IG pinned it against the duracrete with a solid metal foot. He pressed hard, crushing the man's fingers as he aimed for his head. "Black Sun- stole this moon- from the Hutts," the man hissed.

"If they wanted to keep it, they should have spent more on security," IG retorted, then pulled the trigger.

Tags: Jek Raynar | Kinley Pryse | OPEN
DM: Zunn Zenraj
​

 

[Yael Kandar]

PURPLE RAIN

A Brave New World - Chapter 1

EQUIPMENTS: Mini dress
Blaster pistol
Viberknife
OBJECTIVE: Acquire the dossier
Kill Cisco
TAG: Zunn Zenraj

Spoiler: THEME

OLD QUARTER, NAR SHADDAA

The screen highlights multiple files, account details, transportation routes, but more importantly, a dossier filled with names and profiles. Just as it started to showcase the files, however, it went off, then flashing another layer of encryption right after that.

Karkin’ hell.

Yael is not a qualified slicer after all, it was the flash drive that dismantled the system’s protection. Someone just happened to install a backup firewall to avoid exactly this type of occurrence. Might it be a leak from Zhentari’s camp?

<Emergency firewall up, I need backup,> she called her touchpoint in the camp. She hates having to rely on someone else but sometimes you need a hand to avoid messing up on crucial missions.

<This might take a while. Keep the stick in. I will let you know if I need manual assistance,>

That doesn’t sound good. She readied her pistol, as she have to keep alert on both the de-encryption progress and her surroundings. Not mentioning her lowered mobility with her dress and the lack of exoskeleton support.​

 

[Rostam Khavarzai]

Nar Shadda
Option 2: Go Under It.

As Rostam observed the ventilation shaft, he heard the clanking approach of Hutt security droids. How antiquated the models were was irrelevant; he was here for a stealth infiltration, and a skirmish with a squad of droids would make far too much noise. Moving away from the shaft, he chose instead to follow the maintenance tunnel and proceeded quietly into the darkness.

Proceeding down the tunnel, the sound of hydraulic pumps grew louder, meaning Rostam was less concerned about making noise. Staying alert, the assassin spotted a corroded bulkhead half-swallowed by junk and rubble. Faded yellow print above it read:

SERV-MNT: CLASS 2 DROID ACCESS.

Rostam pulled a small plasma cutter from his belt and took a steadying breath. The rhythmic thrum of the pumps masked the noise well enough, an unintended blessing of the decaying infrastructure. This was likely an old access point for construction crews when the facility was first built. The panel, rusted through along its welds, gave way quickly under the cutter's heat, allowing the assassin to slip through without delay. Inside, he found a skeletal chamber of wires, pipes, and steel beams, many of them corroded and sagging with age. Lost to time, this forgotten space bore no signs of patrols, sensors, or guards. Just silence and dust.

Carefully navigating through the room to another panel, he retrieved the plasma cutter once more and sliced through the corroded metal. As he gently set the panel aside, a rush of cool air swept in from the lair beyond, slipping into the stale tunnel. The assassin climbed through and found himself inside the compound at last. He scanned his surroundings and spotted a ventilation grate. Slipping through, he moved with practiced silence, then replaced the grate behind him quietly, precisely leaving no trace of his entry.

Rostam let his senses do the work. Alarms were now blaring, confirmation that the assault on the front had begun. But the room he had entered smelled of fresh ozone and grease. Weapons and inventory were scattered haphazardly across shelves and locked racks. Rows of blaster rifles, sonic pistols, and containers of ion grenades lay strewn about in varying states of organization. He was in the armory. No one had spotted him yet. Most of the guards, it seemed, had already moved to reinforce the front lines of the compound. That did not mean this place was empty; no doubt a few guards would linger behind.

 

[K4-ZAN]

[Obj 1] Go Through It
Old Quarter, Nar Shadaa
Tags: IG-44 | Jek Raynar | Kinley Pryse | Zunn Zenraj

The thunder of blaster fire was not an unfamiliar sound to it. A rhythm, loud and primitive—but not without structure, in the right hands. A symphony of slaughter, where IG-44 left staccato bursts of efficient blaster fire. A scalpel driven like a hammer.

K4-ZAN, meanwhile, preferred choreography. A bladed edge to spread trails of crimson in its wake, leaving blood to stain the streets and crowded walls on the approach to the destination in question for the day.

The droid didn’t care as much for the maneuvering or underworld politics. But he understood the meaning of an example, in a way. He understood what it meant to make something for others to appreciate. Even if only he could understand the beauty in such endings, unlike most of his newfound compatriots.

Plated feet moved with precise, heel-first steps, a bolt ricocheted off his blade and chassis from the errant spray of plasma from a Twi’lek gunner. It ducked low, with a swift underhanded stroke made upwards before their face was split in twain in a clean cut from a vibroblade. “With the right hand, they at least die elegantly. They should be honored.” Offered words sidelong, to the monotonous IG unit, as the blade rose amidst the firefight with a deflection of a bolt—to deliver a swift riposte with a lunge forwards, viscera to enrapture his armament in a pierced heart’s fading beat. The droid could not savor that small moment, wrenching the edge out from the combatant's chest. There was much more work to do, after all.

The single glowing photoreceptor tilted down upon the corpses wrought, narrowing and widening at the intake of information. No survivors. That point was made rather obvious as the other metallic kindred proceeded to take their time with the next one with a touch of flair. Another came around the corner from it’s side, a blaster raising to aim, before there was a swift motion from the droid bladesman. Kicking off from where it stood in the blink of an eye, a bolt cracked harshly against where he was just standing. Following through with what almost appeared to be a bounce off the nearby street wall, before it finished in a devastating roundhouse kick to the jaw.

A sickening crack to be heard as blood-riddled spit retched from a twisted throat, followed by a thud of a new body. The receptor tilted to focus upon the fearsome assassin droid, and the targets that yet lay behind them once they press on.

“I think it is fitting, to see this rot turned into something else. They will all die regardless some day, will they not?” Metallic words to elicit with the barest hint of a lilt.

 

[Nero Drake]

NAR SHADDAA SEWERS
Zunn Zenraj Rostam Khavarzai Yael Kandar

"What an incredible smell we've discovered."

Nero pulled his sword out of the Hutt snake droid's guts. Oil greased the simple blade as his gang of pirates probed palace security like a blunt object. What had started as a few days of shore leave escalated like most revelry on Nar Shaddaa. A few too many drinks in a Black Sun cantina and here he was raiding the lair of some upstart herglic all because there had been vague promises made about fortune and glory.

"This way mates," the young bosun promised his crew, "Air doesn't seem so foul over here."

His past life in an undercity swoop gang on Coruscant and an uncanny sense of direction helped Nero make sense of the tunnels. An eclectic mix of humans, weequay, and other scurvy aliens eagerly followed blasting and stabbing anything that moved. Nothing about this raid was discreet but the pirates still hoped to maintain an element of surprise in all the confusion.

"I've got a good feeling about this!" Nero turned a corner seconds before the automated defense turret came online.

An instinct he couldn't quite explain urged him to dive aside but the weequay behind him wasn't so lucky and died badly. The masked pirate pulled a thermal detonator from his longcoat and activated it.

"Blasted fool must have tripped the sensor," that was Nero's eulogy for the dead pirate once he'd reduced the turret to scrap, "Take heart, you dogs. This means our prize is close!"

 

[Ka'Ahs'Ruk]

Go - Through - It
K4-ZAN | IG-44 | Kinley Pryse | Jek Raynar | Zunn Zenraj ​

The blasters and slugs flew through the air. Slamming home into the wall next to me. The smoke and explosions obscuring vision. However, I did not rely on such. A tongue darting out. Tasting the air and telling me where I needed to go. Slipping through the hate wave of weaponry being fired at the Black Suns, My speed quicker than most. Darting between cover and concealment. Using it to my advantage. A very toothy grin widened as I vaulted over a speeder and into a duo of Quintex men.

My hammer fist slamming down on the helmet. Denting heavily with a solid ring. A blaster leveled at me, and fired. I could feel the impact. The heat of the round through my scales. Burning through the robes I wore. Leaving exposed white scales in the man's face. I did not believe I could see a Rodian's eyes become wider than they already were, but they did. My maw latched onto it's neck. My clawed hands holding a shoulder and back of head as I ripped his trachea from its home in his neck.

"You are quite foolish,
Your life will now sustain me,
Go back to Aether"

My words deep and rich in tone after spitting out the flesh. My hand reaching down to the caved in skull of the other man. His hands held up as if attempting to defend himself. Signs of severe brain damage. The clawed hand lifted him up. Holding his form like a shield to close the distance of another gap. Throwing him with force into a speeder to smack heavily. The helmet and boot of his left foot removed from the body. Leaping over to land on top of another. My claws digging into the shoulder and chest. My legs landing on his hips and pinning him to the ground.

I raised a fist and slammed it home into barely protective helmet. Face breaking under my knuckles with crunching and snapping. Eyes popping from the force of being compressed suddenly. Another slam into the body to feel it go limp and no longer fight my pinning.

"Quintex seeks lordship,
This does not please the Black Suns,
Now you face the price."

 

[Zunn Zenraj]

Option 1: Go Through It. Jek Raynar IG-44 K4-ZAN Kinley Pryse Ka'Ahs'Ruk ​

​

Cisco's estate once a mighty fortress within the Old Quarter of Nar Shaddaa had become a crumbling dream under siege. The estate's walls shuddered with the shockwaves of thermal detonators, the stonework peeling beneath the Black Sun's relentless assault. The air was thick with the stench of spent tibanna gas, smoke and burning duracrete, painting the Old Quarter in the burning hues of war. ​

​

Though the Quintex would not fall so easily, for it was a mighty tower. The Dowutin Hunter tried to move his starfighter blaster around though in a split second he hit the ground after Kinley Pryse 's shot ripped through its chestplate, collapsing with a deep groan. ​

​

Jek Raynar had sparsely a moment to celebrate as some Bleeders emerged from the upper catwalks ringing the courtyard, setting up a ring of suppressive fire with stolen Imperial Light Repeating Blasters to bring ruin down upon them, with several Nikto Bounty Hunters approached Ka'Ahs'Ruk . ​

​

Behind them, the Quintex lieutenant, a Duros in patchwork armor, barked orders in a panic as he dragged crates of munitions to fuel a last stand. But panic was a poor shield. Black Sun enforcers surged over broken barricades like floodwaters as the estates courtyard was becoming a losing battle. ​

​

Above, two anti-personnel turret on a corner tower powered up with a guttural hum its targeting system painting both IG-44 and K4-ZAN chassis in crimson. They were not shielded emplacements so destroying them would be quite easy for both the seasoned droids if they could reach them in time before they both were rendered scattered debris on the ground. ​

Option 2: Go Under It. Rostam Khavarzai Yael Kandar Rostam Khavarzai Nero Drake ​

​

The crew of Nero Drake advanced now through the decrepit underpass which held the potential for death at each turn if they were not careful. The shredded remains of the Weequay body smoldered beneath them, and the melted turret's wreckage hissed.​

​

There was a faint pulse of blue light glowing from the corridor ahead. Likely a sensor node used by the Quintex to monitor the tunnels for any signs of trouble and likely connected to a nearby alarm terminals. ​

​

Though that was not the only problem as several more Hutt Security Droids emerged from hidden panels within the tunnel's walls. Using their blaster carbine built into one arm to send a tide of fire down the corridor. ​

​

In the server room, Yael Kandar screen flickered as the second firewall began to crack under the strain. The encryption was not the most secure since it was on Nar Shaddaa but was laced with modern redundancies, clearly updated recently. As she tapped into the access node again, the door opened with a loud hiss. ​

​

Standing in the door was one of Cisco's most trusted enforcers, KRONOS-556. "Statement: Halt or be exterminated" a simple warning but it would be up to the Mandalorian to figure out if this was the end of the road. ​

​

Meanwhile, Rostam Khavarzai emerged from the vent shaft and landed silently inside a dark corridor adjacent to a munitions bay. His infiltration had been seamless so far, but now his path split one route toward the security station, the other toward the core vault, likely where Cisco kept his most prized contraband… or secrets.​

​

But there were voices coming from the vault door. Three of them. Armed, laughing. Unaware.​

​

 

[Rostam Khavarzai]

Nar Shadda
Option 2: Go Under It.

Three Quintex guards approached, their carelessness betraying them. Laughter and idle chatter echoed down the hall, easily heard by Rostam long before they reached the armory. He quickly took note of the direction they'd be facing when they entered, he couldn't afford a noisy, drawn-out fight that might compromise his infiltration. Without hesitation, he slipped between a weapons locker and the wall, vanishing into the narrow space. Their footsteps grew louder. Timing was everything. As they passed his hiding spot, he glimpsed the three figures, two humans and a Koorivar. Sloppy. Undisciplined. They didn't even keep their guard up, despite the compound descending into open conflict.

In a single fluid motion, Rostam stepped out, vibroblade in hand, silent as breath. The first guard never saw it coming. The blade drove into his back, piercing the heart. He was dead before Rostam gently lowered him to the ground. The second human turned, too undisciplined for a proper fight, and opened his mouth to shout. Rostam's black-gloved hand clamped down over it, muffling the sound as his blade slid cleanly between the gaps in the man's armor. As he lowered the body to the ground, the guard went limp, his eyes flicking in desperate hope to the Koorivar.

The alien turned suddenly, faster than his now-dead comrades. The Koorivar raised his carbine and fired, but the assassin was already diving, his body low in a tackling motion. The blaster bolt went wide, scorching the wall behind him. Rostam slammed into the alien's gut, knocking him off balance. They struggled briefly, limbs twisting in close quarters, until the assassin's dagger found the Koorivar's neck.

A sharp arterial spray misted the weapons rack behind them, marking the end.

Silence returned.

Rostam stood over the three corpses, already cleaning the blade with a dark cloth. No alarms. No voices. Just the hum of the ventilation system.

Rostam realized in this moment that he could loot the place, but he was here to make a name for himself as one of the galaxy's most feared assassins. No. He needed to get to the security station and use it to find Cisco and put an end to him. Rostam glanced down the halls and quickly made his move, corner to corner, cover to cover. If this battle was going to end, it would be by his blade and his hand.

Zunn Zenraj

 

[Ka'Ahs'Ruk]

Go - Through - It
K4-ZAN | IG-44 | Kinley Pryse | Jek Raynar | Zunn Zenraj
​

I sly smile broke through my face. While it may have looked normal to me should I look into a mirror, for others, the wide toothy grin seemed more like baring teeth and preparing to use them on them again. Blood and viscera dripped down my chin from snagging the throat of the earlier man. When nearly in the open, Out from some barricades came a group of Nikto Hunters. They all looked the same to me. My eyes playing over them as they opened fire. I vaulted myself over the speeder to use it as cover.

A shake of my head as they sent bolts flying through the air. They kept flying through and keeping me down to attempt to close the distance. Fine, if they wanted to play that game, then I'll play. Focusing my form, my body. Feeling my muscles and flesh tighten. I shifted my body around. Facing the speeder. My hands gripping the underside of the speeder. Flipping it over onto its side with a loud crash. Slowly pushing it forward towards the fire and then pushing just enough to send a spinning back kick.

The Speeder went flying towards them and flipping end over end. Crashing onto one of them with the other attempting to move out of the way. HIs body flung to the ground and looking over at the carnage. Only to look up and find me directly over the top of him. Clawed foot stamping on his chest armor. Holding him in place. Rifle brought up and fired directly at me.

However, the blaster bolt ricocheted off and to the side. I had hardened my body. Soft to Solid technique of the Matukai to increase my natural resistance to blaster fire. The teeth of my smile became very apparent. Yanking the rifle from the man's hand and using it akin to a baton. Smacking him in the head over and over again.

No longer resembling a head. Just a mess of matter and viscera. Taking the rifle, snapping it over my knee and looking up as others were dealing with their own problems.

"Coms Check O'Black Suns,
Enemies are cleared from here,
Assistance Needed?"

 

[Jek Raynar]

Tags: Zunn Zenraj IG-44 K4-ZAN ​

Jek looked up and felt his guts twist.

A fething Dowutin. Massive. Flesh like boiled stone, eyes cold and bored. And in his hands, a damn blaster cannon. Starfighter grade, shoulder-braced like it was just another rifle. Jek's mouth went dry. Muscles gave out like jelly. There was a warm trickle down his leg he'd never admit to. This was it. no cover, no shot, Absofragginglutely no chance.

Then she arrived. Kinley Pryse

A rose on a warpath.
Speeder bike whining like a banshee, she tore in from the side street, blaster carbine already spitting red death. The Dowutin staggered as his chest exploded in a storm of molten sparks and sizzling flesh. The brute dropped like a bad sabacc bet. She didn't stop. She leaned into the curve, silhouette sharp under the bike's front light. Short jacket, long legs, and a face you could burn cities for if she ever showed it fully. Someone pinch me.

Jek blinked. Maybe he was dead after all.

Then came the plasma storm. Bleeders up on the catwalks let loose, and the alley lit up like it was Life Day. A bolt kissed his coat, sizzled off the armor underneath. Another clipped his shoulder, and he bit down on the pain. No time for gratitude. He dove behind the charred remains of an AB-1 speeder, breathing hard, bleeding harder.

"Owe you a drink, sweetheart," he muttered to himself, peeking over the scorched hood, "if I make it through this kriffin' mess," He paused. His unstable footing almost causing him to stumble over what initally looked like a gorey rock. A rock with a shiny red button. Jek didn't even bother inspecting it. He pressed the button and chucked it down the alleyway with a brow raised. A white explosion expanded out in a flash only to reveal silence the alley in permafrost.

However, the blaster bolt ricocheted off and to the side. I had hardened my body. Soft to Solid technique of the Matukai to increase my natural resistance to blaster fire. The teeth of my smile became very apparent. Yanking the rifle from the man's hand and using it akin to a baton. Smacking him in the head over and over again.

No longer resembling a head. Just a mess of matter and viscera. Taking the rifle, snapping it over my knee and looking up as others were dealing with their own problems.

"Coms Check O'Black Suns,
Enemies are cleared from here,
Assistance Needed?"

The Cailian turned, scowl half-formed and there it was.
Ka'Ahs'Ruk too karking close. Jek hadn't even heard him come up. The Ssi-Ruu was still dripping with gore, claws smeared red, and chunks of something human stuck between the scales on his arm. Behind him, the shattered remains of a rifle lay on the duracrete, its previous owner now soup.

Jek blinked hard, gave a tight nod.
"Yeah, copy that, lizard," he grunted, clutching his shoulder. "Next time, maybe don't break the rifle. I could've used that." He gestured a rude salute to the alien ally.

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

O B J E C T I V E - 1
Go Through It​

Her grand entrance had done the trick and the Dowutin dropped hard. Kinley exhaled in brief relief, but the sharp sizzle of a blaster bolt slicing past her ear snapped her back into the chaos. There was no time to celebrate.

Blaster fire erupted around them, tightening in from every direction. The ambush was on.

Kinley slammed her palm on the speeder controls, launching the bike forward. She wove through the hail of plasma, ducking and twisting, firing back whenever she caught a glimpse of the enemy. As the firefight sharpened, she spotted the markings, red streaks, crude armor. Bleeders. A smaller gang, and suicidal if they thought they could take on Black Sun.

She shifted tactics, banking into a wide circle around the attackers, pushing the bike into turns that bordered on reckless. But speed was her edge and she clung to it, knowing it was the only thing keeping her alive.

Hopefully her cover fire would help those on foot stay alive too.

Tags: Ka'Ahs'Ruk Jek Raynar K4-ZAN IG-44 Zunn Zenraj

A Smooth Criminal

 

[IG-44]

O P T I O N - 1
G O - T H R O U G H - I T​

​

IG was satisfied with his carnage, or at least as satisfied as an assassin droid could be. He was even more impressed with the blood that K4-ZAN and Ka'Ahs'Ruk were spilling. Nearby, Jek Raynar was sowing seeds of destruction. He was joined by Kinley Pryse who'd given them all the go-ahead to kill without question over comms. It was a veritable party for Black Sun, with victory within reach.

"We have secured this sector," IG-44 reported to the Ssi-Ruuk, but just as he did so, a pair of automated turrets on the estate's wall came online. Their sensor beams shined brightly on IG and K4's chasses, forcing the assassin droid to dive-roll behind cover.

"Turrets on the north wall," he told the others. They were unshielded, according to Fortyfour's sensors, but they'd shred him and K4-ZAN if they put themselves within line-of-sight. "Destroy them."

The turrets appeared to be the final resistance, the last threat on this side of the walls. With them dispatched, Black Sun could storm the estate properly and begin clearing its halls of Quintex forces. Hopefully by the time they made it in, the underground crew will have found and beheaded Cisco.

Tags: Jek Raynar | Kinley Pryse | K4-ZAN | Ka'Ahs'Ruk | OPEN
DM: Zunn Zenraj
​

 

[K4-ZAN]

[Obj 1] Go Through It
Old Quarter, Nar Shadaa
Tags: IG-44 | Jek Raynar | Kinley Pryse | Zunn Zenraj

It had made to move past and towards the compound. The displays of violence and mayhem surrounding them had filled the air, and created such beauty in its wake. The Ssi-ruuk had the right idea, to use their claws. Blood was fair more pleasing to the eye to witness than carbon scoring. Nonetheless, it couldn’t fully dismiss the snap-timing thinking of the other organics present.

Unfortunately, the compound’s defenses seemed to have other ideas—a bright beam training upon its chassis. It only needed less than a split-second to register that if it didn’t move in that moment, it would be scrap. So move it did, a sudden dip and weave to the side just as heavy blaster fire shrieked past where it stood moments ago, taking refuge in one of the divots of the alleyway.

The droid was a bladesman by programming. And while t’was true that it could storm the turrets and do what it could to dismantle it, there was a chance it would not be without unnecessary damages. Far too many for its liking, and there was no mechanic it trusted not to tamper with its servos. So it had to remain in the stone divot that was slowly being shredded away by suppressive fire.

In a pinch, it could act. For now, it waited as the IG unit hailed others to handle it in their stead.

“An explosive could likely suffice in destruction—Blaster fire would be inefficient.” It commented to others over the communications.

 

[Ka'Ahs'Ruk]

Go - Through - It
K4-ZAN | IG-44 | Kinley Pryse | Jek Raynar | Zunn Zenraj
​

Shaking my head at the man. He wanted more blasters to his collection. Sounding like a Gun-nut who didn't understand there were other things more greater to warfare and combat than a gun that used ammo. I turned as others were being fired upon by the turrets. Their application and usage was defending the compound itself. The Doors that stood before us were just underneath Held there by the fire that the rained upon us. Its when I knew what my job was now. All they had to do, was trust me.

"Draw their fire Suns,
I shall create a new path,
Time to breach their walls."

I raced over to the side. Grabbing one of the small speeder bikes that hovered on the ground. Holding onto the stabilizing arms of the front, and the frame in the center of the bike. My grip hardened. My muscle fibers strengthening and coalescing into an armor for me. Once the rain of blaster hate was not targeting me, I pushed forward. Turning the hover bike, into a mobile barricade. Crouched low and pushing forward so should other blaster fire be directed at me, would strike the bike instead.

My legs became fire. The burning of my energy powered them to push this speeder like some massive tower shield of old. Racing across the distance with it in front of me. Drawing closer and closer to be directly at the door.

I smiled deeply. Teeth barring themselves to the open air as I found myself underneath the reach of the turrets.

"O'door of the Keep,
Your job is now at its end,
Open Sesame."

A welling of the force within my body. Hardening my scales, strengthen the fibers of my frame. Holding rigid to the formation of its energy. Both hands held open in front of me, Almost but not quite touching the door. My right hand pulled back, Closing into a fist and funneling all of the energy. Utilizing kinetic linking taught by all Matukai, A flash of my fist. Sending it into the door with a force and strike that would rival any form of a battering ram.

Loud crashing as my fist struck it. Again and again. Forming a dent into its massive frame. Finally, I was nearly there. I took a couple steps back. Reading myself. One final one.

I leapt forward. Using momentum, my energy and the hardening to become the very battering ram itself and slamming into the door. Breaking the hinges and holding of its hold. The doors blasting away with the final impact.