FO Dominion of Terminus | Disorder Has Its Consequences

[Progflaw99]

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It's a very dangerous and lonely thing, I imagine, to be a spy: ​

to have friendships that are deceptions, that are not honest.​

~ Mark Rylance​

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-​

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Time was running out. Three weeks had been her deadline. Two days of that original stipulation yet remained. Formerly retired from the life of a field agent, Val found that her skills had already begun to collect cobwebs. Was it her smile? Had her gait changed? Or was it that somehow her identity had been leaked? Was her legend blown? She couldn't let that concern distract her - these people weren't the type to mess with. They were like hounds in a sense, able to smell indecision. The scent of hesitation. They had to be made to believe that Val was every bit the woman they'd met those years ago when she was working out of Terminus under her cover.

-​

:ear Callista,

:: Today I visited the Market here on Terminus. As usual it was brimming with activity, it reminds me of the Markets on Dosuun. There were vendors and just about as many different wares as you could imagine. They all jostle for sales, crying out their wares and services - but one voice rose above the rest. It makes me wonder if all the opposing vendors decided to undercut their opposition if it would hurt the Market at all? I suppose it's no concern of mine. Food for thought though. I hope your flower shop business is thriving, I still think they're the best in the galaxy. Catch you later love.

::Signed, your sister Corinne

-​

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"Come on then, spit it out before I gut yeh bow to stern."

The shimmering point of a vibroblade danced in the dim light of the alleyway, mere millimeters beneath the adam's apple of a wide eyed Aqualish. Or at least, where Val approximated one to be. Her voice didn't waver, her threat reinforced by the woman's weight pressed against the poor creature's throat as she leaned ever harder into the brick wall. "Now, or I start slicing." This time she pressed the tip of the blade just a hair closer, pricking the waxy skin of her victim's neck. A quiet squeal choked free before the creature spit out a wild spattering of common infused Aqualish. Nervously the man waited, his fate all but sealed. As if to notify him of his fate, a twitch at the corner of Val's lips cracked into a sly smile. "Thanks Oddo, I appreciate your honesty. Now there's one more thing I need from you, would you like to hear what that is?" Expectantly she raised an eyebrow as she met eyes with the Aqualish known as Oddo. "Die."

The word was spoken in a dull monotone. For a moment it looked like there may have been a hint of regret in the woman's eyes, that was quickly replaced by a cold and vacant expression. Almost robotic her voice sounded to her own ears, the blade plunging deep into the soft flesh of the beast's neck. Violently he struggled to gain some purchase, to reach his attacker's arms, eyes, face - to push off the brick wall pressed against his back. The Aqualish's body seized, a cough unable to form as the blood spilled down his neck and into the blast vest worn around his shoulders. For a moment, Val reveled in it. Silently grinning as she watched the spark of life snuffed out of the creature held in her grasp. It was a familiar demon now resting on her shoulders, the things it whispered...

She was drawn from her near euphoric state by a commotion from the street. A hovercar passing, pedestrians walking, each noise louder than that of the quiet gurgle of the body she let fall finally to rest. This was the first. By the time their mission was complete, this would not be the last. With a whisper of her own, she communicated through a covert comm device to one of the other agents she knew to be tasked on this operation. "Mockingbird complete."

-​

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Val Kordova wasn't the only agent on Terminus, nor was hers the only mission. Galactic politics weren't her forte but she'd understood the gist of what command wanted to happen. That was all she'd needed, the rest was in the contacts she'd had from her previous stint. It had taken a murder to cement their trust in her, hardly a price to pay for the intel and access her and her fellow agents would need. In two days time it had come to fruition. Two methods of infiltration, complete with garments and forged identification. Val, also known as Mockingbird, and one other agent only known to the woman as "x" had been tasked with a task more complex than might be imagined: Start a gang war. While the First Order certainly had the manpower to reach to the bustling world of Terminus, what they lacked was a reason. To properly justify the annexation of the planet, they needed a catalyst. On a planet with a teeming underworld, the easiest way to achieve that? Start a gang war.

At present, the gangs had called a truce, their leaders happy to exist in peace with one another - all reaping the benefits of a ripe location along both the Corellian Trade Spine and the Hydian Way. It was in the best interest of the First Order if the gangs were thrown into chaos, pit against each other. The subsequent squashing of the criminal elements and benefits of the safety and security of First Order rule would become the only logical outcome. They had ground yet to travel, but the pieces were in motion.

Val had never met the woman - or at least, she assumed it was a woman. It was unlikely a man would allow his codename to be something such as it was: Lotus. She had been briefed that her own entry to the venue would be under guise of a concierge, a waiter of sorts. The venue in question was a fairly lofty area of the Underworld known for its night life. As was their habit, the gang bosses would meet for a night of debauchery. A better opportunity to set them on themselves could not be found. So long as they didn't muck it up.

With a final tug of the narrow bow tie, Val gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. She looked every bit the servant, even down to the fake branding on her wrist. Tucked into the sleeve of her jacket she could feel three tiny vials, their contents poisonous to the touch. It was her duty to deliver them to this... 'Lotus' character. Beyond that, she was in the dark. Much to her chagrin, she was given only a phrase and a counter phrase to know her fellow agent by. The challenge was to be "Winters in Avalonia are the prettiest I've ever seen". In return, the response was to be "I'm sure they rival the sunsets of Halm."

How in the nine hells Val was suppose to weave that into a conversation she didn't know - but it was too late to go back now. On her way out of the servant's chambers she grabbed a particularly appetizing tray of hors d'oeuvre and made her way into the club.

[member="Isobel Nakano"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Asharad Graush"]​

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OOC: Hello! This will start out as a clandestine effort to get the gangs fighting. After the opening scene, we will be directly involving all First Order agencies from the Navy to the Knights of Ren. In the meantime, feel free to roam, assist in assassinating gang bosses, rooting out Jedi, or whatever other tasks you think might be fun to complete on a world such as Terminus. Keep in mind this world has a thriving underworld!

If you have any questions, or aren't sure how to fit in, feel free to DM me or any of the First Order Staff and we're more than willing to help brainstorm! For the Order!
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[Dominic Craig]

Location: Perla's Bar
Objective: Reminisce.
Post: I

A feeling of familiarity washed over Dominic Craig as he strode through Perla's. The bar, had actually been a favourite haunt of his a decade ago. Back before the First Order, before the agency, even before his career as a smuggler. And for that, he felt a sense of, melancholy, as he slipped through. He knew the score, before it had even been settled. The bar was slow, and its patrons meandering as they wandered around searching for tables, or returning with fresh ale.

Dominic opted to sit alone, managing to snag himself a booth in the back corner of the bar. The mission would always take precedent for him. And as such, Dominic huddled into the corner, and hid himself behind a greasy menu. His eyes however, kept glued to the perimeter, and its denizens. Anyone of them could be the lead he was searching for, and as such, he kept a weather eye out. Searching for someone, wearing the familiar green and gold of the Stellaran Mafioso.

The group had actually been one Dominic was well acquainted with. He'd run guns from Varanot to Demonsgate for them at a time. But now, now he was hopefully going to seek an end to them. Or at the very least, their operations on this junk heap. Lighting up a cigar, Dominic leaned back and made himself comfortable in the greasy seat. Now was the time for a stakeout.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Her dress was the palest of blue, with a gentle, art deco-esque pattern that was barely visible, so similar was the color of the pattern to the background. But subtlety was stock in trade for a woman in Isobel's line of work. The dress itself was of obvious quality and was, in fact, one of her own line. She paired it with a white patent clutch and a few simple pieces of platinum jewelry. Simple. Tasteful. Understated. She looked like she fit in here, for indeed, one could smell the money in the room -- she expected she would have been able to smell the money of a lot of people in this room, since it was probably filthy. Drugs. Spice. Blood. Flesh. That was how they made their money.

Poisoning and killing and exploiting people.

She looked the part then, cigarette in long platinum holder releasing a thin stream of smoke from the tip, a pair of wide, white-rimmed sunglasses perched on her nose.

Isobel, code name Lotus, snatched a drink from a passing waitress and moved to intercept one of the marks. The job was simple; use her cover to sow the seeds of discord among the crime lord and try to instigate a gang war. And if her skills weren't enough, she had three tiny insurance policies that would help. She just had to get them. She approached the man. "I'm told you can assist me with obtaining some party favors," she murmured. "And I can assist you with moving party favors into First Order space. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

She snapped her fingers at a passing waitress and took a canapé from her tray. "I don't suppose you could dial the temperature down a bit in here," Isobel said to the waitress. "I've just come from Avalonia and it's winter there, so this feels positively sweltering. Winters in Avalonia are the prettiest I've ever seen."

[member="Val Kordova"]

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Colonel (Wing Commander) Cynthia "Cyn" Alucard
Designation: Pixie Leader

Fighter Classification: TIE/SF III

​

Since you're on your way back to the Capital, make a small stop by our southern boarder to a simply inspection. Cyn muttered darkly to herself, her boots thudded across the steel floor, anger slightly increasing with each step taken. While such an inspection hardly seemed something to be worked up about, it was the sudden switch of orders that irked the Pixie Wing Commander.

Cyn's left hand rubbed her temple, the act slightly easing the headache growing with every passing second. ​Assist with ground support by assuring air supremacy. Easy task for one so accomplished as yourself. Blah blah- The opportunity to bring about an end to pirates and other low life scum certainly would bring contentment, the bigger issue presented that none of her own pilots were under her command. Essentially, she was by herself with only the pilots and TIE craft available at present moment.

"I can't even stay on a non-combative role either," Her thoughts made vocal, but thankfully she noticed none nearby to hear the Pixie Pilot complain. Her flight suit awaited in her borrowed quarters, further more her TIE craft and the squadron she would be attached with were all awaiting for her arrival. How bad can it be. . .

​

Red lights, alarms now silenced to ease the ever growing pressure on Cyn as she barely managed to correct her flight path with a damaged engine. While being close to un-flyable, Cyn needed to at least make her crash landing survivable. The whole plant to clear away aggressive Pirate elements over the planet's low orbit turned into a dog fight that forced her to enter the planet's atmosphere.

Maybe if this squadron had waited for further reinforcements of nearby TIEs. The thought cut off as she barely managed to swerve past a hail of laser fire, no doubt an injured TIE would demand all manner of ill from nearby hostile fighters. Despite her own reputation at stake, Cyn needed to assure her own survival for the time being.

"Hunter Three?"

"Ye-yeah?" The poor copilot managed to answer.

"Prepare ejection seats in ten." Probably wouldn't need to be told twice either.

Cyn directed her TIE closer to the surface, the busy city bellow would prove a deadly place to drop in without a proper field kit. Better than be damned in a flaming wreck of a TIE of course. Hands reached for the ejection lever, and after another second pass Cyn felt herself pressed deep into her seat as she was shot out of her TIE.

The city below grew ever so quickly, and Cyn desperately attempted to maneuver herself over a nice soft roof of some sort. Closer and closer, Cyn landed with a loud thud and quickly stripped off her helmet and turned to her communication device left in her seat. Good the signal was sent and it should- The communication device was broken so it no longer broadcast a signal to alert Command of her location.

"Damn it!" Cyn yelled through clenched teeth. Her eyes darted upwards and quickly scanned the skies for her damn copilot, stressed with the idea of being stranded alone with no way to communicate directly to her superiors, perhaps she could use Hunter Three's communication device. Searching tirelessly she couldn't see where Hunter Three's ejection seat took him, and without her own comms, she couldn't locate him either. Teeth clenched ever tighter than ever, Cyn calmed herself and focused at her own situation.

An unfriendly planet, but with heavy First Order presence, no comms to contact Command directly but at least she was still alive and her distress signal worked once upon ejection. With a tired exhale, she moved over back to her ejection seat and quickly produced her blaster pistol and grabbed her helmet. The roof had an exit into the building proper, and for the moment she needed water and something to shoot at, preferably something that she could kill.

And this was suppose to be an easy flight mission, observe and report, inspect the pilot's effectiveness. . . She continued her thoughts, listing all the ways how things should not have gone wrong but did after all. Her nostrils flared at the offending smell of the hallway, so she placed her helmet back on and breathe some clean scrubbed air. Even if she was marking herself as a target, she figured a few minutes of whatever air remained in her suit wouldn't hurt.

 

[Dominic Craig]

Objective: Hunt
Location: Perla's
Post: II

Dominic waved away the waitress, feigning a want to wait for company. It was a white lie. Partially correct. He was on his fourth cigarette now, and getting jittery. Perhaps things had changed. It wasn't like criminal enterprises made their names, and their business habits open. Wasn't healthy for business, was it? Craig's brow furrowed in bitterness. His lips creased into a frustrated scowl. He was sure Perla's would be the place to be to find and snatch some intel. But now, it seemed that he had miscalculated his enemies, the First Order's enemies technically. Special Agent Craig at this point was just tempted to just stalk the streets, when he saw him.

Attired with a dirty duster, with green and gold patterning, a man swaggered to the counter. One of the servers immediately ran to the back office, and bought an anxious looking weequay to the fore. There was a heated exchange between the two, before the Stellaran agent departed snatching the hefty bag, and cackling. Dominic knew it was time to take his leave. Leaving a substantial tip, Craig departed and walked onto the darkened, neon lit streets of Terminius. His eyes glued on the Stellaran gangster as he wandered through the alleys and warrens.


It was now time for the killing, the hunt was on.

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: Deliver Package, Start a Gang War
Allies: [member="Isobel Nakano"]
Post II

Though well accustomed to playing roles and performing duties in efforts to achieve her goals, the role of a servant was one that came roughly to her. She was a wolf. A hawk. A hunter. It was thus, the snap of fingers caught her off guard. A stutter step before taking a half backwards with the tray towards the sound's source. Bowing her head politely she held out the tray as one of the guests helped themselves to its contents. As she waited for the others to join in, the first one posed a question to Val. For a moment, she began to respond - it was then that she realized just what had been said. "I'm sorry Ma'am, you'll have to..." she trailed off. "I'm sure they rival the sunsets of Halm, Lady."

The procedure from here on out was all 'on the fly'. With other guests this close it would be near impossible to transfer the vials. *Improvise*. With a disarming smile, Val's demeanor took a subtle turn as she adopted a sultry twinkle in her eye. "If the temperature isn't quite to your liking, I might know of an alternative?" With a raised eyebrow Val turned away from the little group, heading towards a small door on the opposite side of the room. As if on cue, the music flared, loud beats and synthetic sounds filling the air as bodies began to shift towards the dance floor - with all the commotion it would be easy to slip off to the side, unnoticed.

With a suggestive glance backwards over her shoulder, Val looked to see if she was being followed.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Good, Isobel thought. Val wasn't the first person she'd used the line on, and she was beginning to think it wasn't going to work at all. She smiled tightly at Val and nodded, looking to where Val nodded. Isobel returned the nod and turned back towards the crime lord she had been chatting up.

"I'm going to freshen up," she said casually. "Meet me in the back room in a few minutes. I have an idea that can make both of us very, very rich. And if that's not motivation enough, it will make that grotesque Gamorrean over there very, very poor. He approached me with a proposition -- well, two of them, actually, but only the business proposition is of interest to me -- but I'd much rather deal with my own kind, hm?"

She let the thought linger and followed [member="Val Kordova"] towards the door. Once she had closed it behind her, Isobel stayed in character. "Do you think I could get a refill?" she asked, tapping her champagne flute. This was in case the room was bugged. She pointed to the glass and held it out, hoping the message was clear: put the vials in the glass. Her plan was fairly simple. The vials were sourced as the poison used by the Gamorrean's alliance of gangs, rivals of the human she had just left, Chirondal. The poison had gruesome and -- this was key -- unique side effects. There would be no question, by the end of the poison's application, what had happened. The Security Bureau hoped that this would carry on to its natural conclusion: the gangs tearing each other apart.

"I tried waitressing when I was at university," Isobel told Val, her voice very matter of fact. "I admire your skill. I dropped at least one tray a night. It caused the most terrific distraction. Every eye in the restaurant was on me -- it was so embarrassing." She lifted her eyebrows at Val, again hoping that the point was clear.

 

[Samka Derith]

Objective: Initiate gang war, build power base​

Post 1​

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​

The usual unblemished and beautified appearance of Samka Derith was nowhere to be seen. Instead the young woman was unkempt and unwashed much to her resentment. It was a necessary sacrifice to get in closer with the gangs here. She had to look the part of the street rat. Personally she felt like an ill-fit for the underworld, she hid far more naturally among the upper classes and diplomats of the galaxy rather than the bottom rugs she so despised. But that was what the Wookiee was for. She was just a young mute girl who followed him closely.

The Wookiee's name was Tarfad, he had been a relatively harmless trader among the outer rim territories. Now his mind was reshaped into a hardened criminal who believed he owed a life dept to the small woman he travelled with. They were just another pair of low lives trying to carve something on Terminus. The Wookiee's strength was prized, the mute girl who clung to his fur on the back was tolerated. For the gang of Bendak 'the Gundark', the muscle was worth the extra mouth to feed.

A deal had been arranged with a former rival gang, that of Gaduco the Hutt. Their spice shipments had been broken up by the First Order. Bendak's gang would supply spice to Gaduco's in exchange for arms. A mutually beneficial arrangement but between two factions of continued distrust. A perfect target for disruption.

Samka clung to the back of her Wookiee friend, nuzzled among his mattered hair as she watched the transfer take place. It smelled bad but better than the Gamorrean thug by her side. She cast the alien a lazy glance, showing nothing more than a young girl unwilling to leave the comfort of her only friend in the galaxy. The Gamorrean gave a small nod of his head as his beady eyes met her large round ones. That was more friendly than most Gamorreans she'd met. How sweet. Maybe she'd keep this one alive later.

Her gaze flickered back to the exchange happening. It seemed the representatives of both sides had no issue with the other's shipments, the human man representing Gaduco even cracking a few jokes with his stoic Rodian counterpart representing Bendak. Samka repressed a silent smile. They had no idea what was to happen.

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: Deliver Package, Start a Gang War
Allies: [member="Isobel Nakano"]

The feigned smile remained plastered across her features as the door closed behind them. Val could feel her heartbeat rise as she caught on to the fact that Lotus was maintaining character. *Am I really that rusty?* Val reluctantly admitted she just may not have remembered that piece. "Of course, Muscadet?" This was the tricky part. Setting the tray down on a nearby credenza, she snatched the bottle of wine while simultaneously reaching into her sleeve. Nimbly locating another flute she began to pour, the sound of liquid filling the crystal class overwhelming as she gently slid the vials into the one extended by Lotus.

"It's a thankless job - at least where pay is considered. There are other perks though." She said with a sly smirk. "There you are lady, I hope your evening is to your enjoyment. If you need anything else, please ask." With her package delivered, it was time to become the observer and prepare for exfil. Once their mission had been complete.. they needed to make it out alive.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

"Thanks ever so," said Isobel. "Oh! I almost forgot." The young woman set her flute down and fished in her handbag for a few mid-denomination coins. "For your trouble," she said, holding out the coins to [member="Val Kordova"]. The transaction completed, she retrieved her drink and turned back to the door and pushed it open with her hip, sauntering back into the room. She didn't see Chirondal; had he done a bunk? She pulled the rim of her glasses down with her free hand and looked around the room; to the right, the Gammorean, Ryz'kil, leered at her, licking his lips.

She raised her glass in a silent, sarcastic toast to the pig-like creature and continued surveying. Chirondal's bodyguard caught her eye, beckoned with one finger. She walked over, awkwardly retrieving a cigarette from her handbag. For the moment she forwent the cigarette holder. "Have you got a light?" she asked.

He obliged, pulling out a lighter. "Boss man want you." He held the flame to her cigarette until she inhaled, causing the cigarette tip to glow momentarily. "Back room. Leave purse." He held out a hand the size of a dustbin lid.

She exhaled a twin jet of smoke from her nostrils. "All right." She handed her purse to the brute. She wasn't concerned, after all. It was clean -- well, not clean, since it contained a few traces that were to be expected for a woman in this trade: drug paraphernalia, a vibro-switchblade, and a wad of untraceable credits among other things. The guard, satisfied with her compliance, led her into the back room and pulled a chair out for her at the small table with Chirondal. "I thought you'd left me to the tender mercies of the pig people," she said amiably to Chirondal.

"No, miss," said Chirondal as he put a hand on her thigh. "Like you said, we're better sticking to our own kind."

Isobel's breath caught a little; his fingertips were centimeters from one of the most important tools of her trade -- the miniature blaster strapped to her inner thigh. She crossed her legs and leaned closer. "Let's talk about the money, honey," she murmured, lifting her drink to take a sip from the glass. By the Force, I hope those poison capsules really are sealed, or this will get ugly quick. "I own a company with certain privileges in First Order space. I know your people have been looking for a way to get certain stims in, and I think I have just what you're looking for. Connections on Atrisia, for one, will get your stuff in with minimal inspection, and access to the wealthy and well-connected in their society who could be a market for your stuff." She cupped her drink and offered a demure smile.

"Hear something you like?" Isobel cast a quick look around, dark eyes tracing the outer perimeter of the room. She didn't know what shape the distraction would take, but she was confident that Kordova would deliver. She struck Lotus as a true professional.

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: Obtain Power Converters, Investigate Missing Jedi Contact
Location: Open Air Market, Terminus
Nearby: [member="Samka Derith"]

It was a bold venture, one that trying times necessitated. That hadn't deterred the young Padawan, nor her trusty if not somewhat awkward companion - Chaz. Both were Padawans though as time went by it was more and more often they were dispatched on their own. It was undoubtedly a test, to see how they would handle themselves and and opportunity for them to prove their lessons were taking root. The journey to Terminus had been fairly easy. Commuter shuttles were common along the Hydian Way and Terminus was an independent system. At least, for now.

As inconspicuously as possible the two had taken up lodging in an unassuming hostel right off the main road which led to the market. It was there they were to retrieve two Power Converters of a specific make. According to their masters it was such a rare model that no other worlds were like to have it in stock. Their footsteps bringing them closer, Kass could begin to believe it. Vendors shouted over each other in droves. Some in carts, others in stalls, some even wandering with wheelbarrows and hover sleds, tall flags and signs poking up over the varied crowds of consumers. From the nearby sights and sounds, they were approaching the consumables quarter, strange carcasses both cooked and uncooked hung from racks made of wood and durasteel. The sharp tang of foreign spices almost caused the woman to sneeze but she caught it with a hand over her nose and mouth. "We're looking for parts - can you tell where they might be?" she said to the boy behind her. Piping up, Chaz shielded his eyes as he looked over the heads of the crowds. "I think they're over that way, I see an engine or two poking up!" *Thank the force.*

Lowering her shoulder, Kassandra began to part the sea, carefully stepping around people bartering, making deals, trying to get through the crowded stalls. Ahead she could just make out a large brown haired tuft of fur poking out above the crowd - as they neared she could definitively identify it. A Wookie? *This place really is the end of the line.* Varied races and species she'd expected, but a Wookie? This far from Kashyyyk? She didn't have time to wonder, sadly. She would have loved to introduce herself, maybe even hear a tale of how it had come to be here on Terminus. Unfortunately, they were rapidly coming up on a deadline of their own. It hadn't been Kotz or Vander that had been given this assignment, it was her and Chaz and she would be damned if she didn't meet expectation.

Though nimble of her own accord, she was yet young and inexperienced. Perhaps it was this which caused the next events to unfold, or perhaps it was destiny. As she trudged forward through the crowd she found herself pushed out of the way, redirected. The next thing she remembered was seeing a blur of brown fur and a gentle tug on her foot - in an instant she'd gone from upright to flat faced on the ground. As she spit dust from her lips, she could see that she'd stumbled at the edge of a small open space. There appeared to be some sort of deal transpiring. *Oh, now I've gone and done it.* Briskly she picked herself up, dusting off the nondescript tunic she wore and apologizing for her clumsiness. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interupt." Rapidly she tried to make herself seem smaller, less important, her mind open as she began channeling the slightest hint of the Force. She was noone, a nobody, just another trader who happened to be clumsy footed.

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: Deliver Package, Create a Diversion, Start a Gang War
Allies: Isobel Nakano

"Oh." The gesture was unexpected, even in character as it was. "It's my pleasure, Lady." Val received the coins quietly, carefully placing them in the small pouch at her waist. She watched the woman go, eyes lingering as her figure passed from view. *So that's Lotus.* Adjusting a few glasses noisily, she picked one up and held it up to the light as if examining it. A second more and she had dashed it upon the ground. The sound of shattered glass would be drowned out by the steady whump whump whump of the music outside the door. *Perfect*.

Retrieving a small shard of the glass from the floor, Val pressed it against her finger, a neat droplet of blood forming where it had punctured the skin. She winced inwardly, eyes flicking to the other hand - the one that no longer had the capability of bleeding. The prosthetic looked real, even felt real, but it was little more than machinery. The thought was banished as she took her now bleeding finger and closed her fist. She didn't need a lot of blood to achieve her goal, just enough to raise an eye. A moment later, she peeked her head out from the door, eyes searching for something. *There.* "Excuse me!" She raised her voice. "Excuse me, you there, tech guy!"

Along the wall stood a humanoid, blue skin clearly identifying him as a Pantoran. Around his neck a set of headphones, a utility belt buckled around his waist. One of the sound technicians no doubt. With a curious glance he turned to face Val, eyes searching for the reason he'd been summoned. "Can you help me quick?" An innocent smile was leveled at the man as she held up her bloodied hand. An expression of concern spread across his features, his hands pointing to the room behind her. It looked like she'd found her in. As the technician passed into the room behind her and began rummaging for a cloth or towel, she silently closed the door.

Like a shriekhawk stalking their prey, she silently slid across the floor and up behind the man. Clenching the fist of her prosthetic she delivered a hard blow to the base of the man's skull. *Out like a light.* With her other hand, she caught him, lowering him to the floor. This was just the first piece of their plan. It would take her a minute more to strip the man of his clothing before dumping him in the walk in freezer. Someone would find him there eventually, once this all played out. He'd be cold, but there was more than enough oxygen. Now kitted, she put into motion the next phase of her plan.

The tools of the man's trade had been neatly organized upon his belt, it was these which now drew Val's attention. A few devices, components, and even an electrical scanner. All things Val was familiar with - it was as if she had been born to the role. From here, Val made her way back out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. A quick survey of the crowd revealed that the party was quickly reaching its peak. The music had been turned up yet again, a different electronic synth filling the room. In time with the beat, she walked nonchalantly towards the sound booth, eyes planted firmly on her objective - the control panel. If she acted swiftly, no one would even know what happened.

Removing a small device from one of the several pouches on the belt, she stepped into the booth. Carefully she took a knee, slipping a small panel to the side as she connected two leads from the device to various places on the bare control circuity. *Showtime.* With a single click of a button on the device, the pulsing music suddenly changed, a violent screech of feedback ripping through the speakers throughout the entire club. Just as swiftly as she'd pushed the button, Val had rolled to the side and slipped nimbly beneath the metal framework beneath the raised booth. It took everything she had not to cry out due to the noise but she held it together. It wouldn't take long for them to remove the device but by the time they did her job would be complete. A distraction. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The Gozanti-class cruiser dropped out of hyperspace on the edges of the system, and the pilots of Devil Flight were already there, hanging from its wings in their TIE/SF TRESPASSER As, waiting for their boards to go green. As Pierce Fortan III examined his status readouts in preparation for the mission, a line of text from his astro appeared on the screen.

:: DECLARATORY STATEMENT: MISSION PARAMETERS PREFERABLE TO LAST OUTING, CAPTAIN FORTAN III ::

"Oh?" Pierce asked distractedly. "Why's that?"

:: EXPLANATION: LAST MISSION ON SUBSTANDARD HARDWARE; THERE WAS NO SPACE FOR BB-10R2 ::

Pierce smirked. "True. I feel much safer now." The lights on his board went green. He opened a channel to the others. "Listen up, Devils. Let's take it nice and easy. Jam sensors when we get in range and see if we can get an accurate picture of the shadowport. We want to have gun and defense craft counts for the fleet as soon as possible. Prepare for launch in five." The countdown went live on his control panel. When it hit 1, there was a soft clunk as the clamps disengaged. "Let's go, boys," he called, throttling his TIE forward through space as they approached Terminus. He suppressed a chuckle when another line of text appeared on his screen.

:: JUBILANT EXCLAMATION: WEEEEEE! ::

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: Recon
Allies: [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Siegmund Greyhelm"]

:: Solid copy Devil 5. Devil 6 ready for launch. ::

His response felt scripted - but until he felt more comfortable around his comrades he wanted to play it safe. Captain Fortan seemed easygoing enough but he'd gotten in hot water before by assuming. As the countdown clicked off a grin spread across the man's features behind the face of his helmet. "Here's the fun part!" he shouted to his droid co-pilot. RB-3. His shout was met with a squee of whirrs and beeps - washed out by the rumble of the twin ion engines as he pressed the throttle forward to keep up with their flight leader.

:: Interrogative, flight leader. Why does the Order have us coming out this far into unregulated space? ::

Reconnaissance along their border worlds wouldn't have been strange our out of the ordinary but out here? Near Terminus? This was the definition of wild space, and as far as Lieutenant Atreides was concerned, the 181st was a reserve unit. Were they really that hard pressed for bodies? Who knew.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

The shriek of some god-awful sound drew everyone's attention and threw a shiver down Isobel's spine. "Good God," she gasped involuntarily, lifting both hands to her ears but then immediately remembering that the three poison vials were clearly visible in the glass if her hand wasn't cupped around it. She had to hand it to Mockingbird; it wasn't the distraction she had suggested, but it was a distraction, and it was to greater effect than she could have imagined. Chirondal stood and went to the door, yanking it open and shouting to no effect. Instantly in motion, Isobel fished one of the pellets out of her glass and expertly twisted the two halves apart, dumping the powdery contents into the crime lord's drink before instantly discarding the vials in the champagne bucket, where they blended easily with the ice. The other two pellets she quickly wiped down and then deposited in the jacket pocket of the bodyguard as she came into the doorway to investigate the disturbance.

Why the bodyguard?

First, it would sow chaos and confusion in Chirondal's gang if his trusted lieutenant was implicated in the crime.

Second, it would throw even more confusion into Ryz'kil's gang to think that it had been infiltrated by the enemy.

Third, she had spied him out of the corner of her eye stuffing money from her clutch into his pants pocket when the racket had begun, when he should have been looking for potential threats to his boss, so shame on him. It had cleared the coast to allow her to poison Chirondal's glass without concern for being seen -- though frankly, she didn't have much concern about that regardless.

The young operative held her hands to her ear and peered out into the main dance floor. Some of the more audio-sensitive species were writhing on the dance floor, but most people just looked around angrily until, after a seemingly interminable time had passed, the noise stopped, leaving an almost surreal and unreasonably loud silence in its wake. Isobel looked up at Chirondal, shaking her head as if to dismiss the resulting tinnitus. "Does that happen here a lot? Where did I leave my drink?"

[member="Val Kordova"]

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: Deliver Package, Create a Diversion, Start a Gang War
Allies: [member="Isobel Nakano"]

The diversion had been created, that much was obvious. A touch of her own ear revealed a drop of blood - the Order would be more than capable of repairing her eardrum but it pained her more than she'd like to admit. It had taken them slightly longer than she'd anticipated for the techs to find the source of the feedback problem, and once they did - it was a mad dash to get the music back up before they lost their visitors. As the music resumed, Val noted that thankfully they had changed genre. Less loud thumping, which was sure to hurt her ruptured eardrum, and more... wind instruments? In any case, it was a welcome adjustment.

As the dance floor slowly returned to normal, Val began scheming about how to extricate herself from the situation. Of course she had her holdout blaster but that was a last resort - to reveal herself as a hostile now would undo any subterfuge they had thus far managed to propagate. Instead she made her way through the latticework of metal supports, eventually popping out from behind the stage. From here she had an unobstructed view of the stage, dance floor, and most importantly the door to where Lotus had disappeared to. No doubt that was where it would begin, though whom the first victim of their efforts would be, she couldn't rightly say. Would it be their intended target? An innocent bystander? Perhaps one of the king-pin's guards? Surely not Lotus herself. It was in that moment a familiar scene from one of Val's favorite holo-films came to mind. *Never bet against a Sicilian when death is on the line.*

 

[Graf's Archive Account]

:: Copy that Devil 5. Devil 7 ready for launch. ::

The countdown slowly approached zero, the light washing over Greyhelm's helmet in the rather dim cockpit as he waited. He glanced back at his co-pilot for a second, finding solace in the fact that he wouldn't be alone in the void of space.

His gunner was one of his subordinates instead of an astromech, it wasn't that he hated droids or anything, but he much preferred a more organic touch to flying than a program could offer. Of course, there was always room for human error, maybe he would see what happened this mission and requisition his own droid as a co-pilot, but for now he would have to bide his time.

He affixed his gaze forward, staring out of the cockpit when he heard the familiar tone of being given a green light. He watched his colleagues detach from the cruiser and hover away, Greyhelm doing the same once his own ship was released.

This is where the fun began.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

:: Why ask questions nobody can answer? :: Pierce answered over the comlink. :: Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die :: He paused, making a few adjustments to his controls, before going on. :: Near as I can tell, Command wants to know what kind of resistance we can expect from this area. It used to be Galactic Alliance territory, so far as I know, and you know how incestuous that lot is with the Outer Rim people. So we need to know what kind of equipment and resources they still have here. And to eliminate some of them, if we can. ::

Pierce ran through a weapons check quickly and reviewed the results. :: Everything all right over there, Seven? You're quiet. Any questions? Concerns? Shocking declarations? Painful revalations? I-Spy? ::

He wanted to inject a little levity into the situation; they were still a few minutes out of effective range, but soon enough they were getting close. :: Begin signal jamming operations now :: he ordered into the channel. :: Watch out for defenses. Copy. ::

[member="Ryker Atreides"] | [member="Siegmund Greyhelm"]

 

[IrishTnT]

Sciath stared at his surrounding, as unmoving an emotion-less as ever. He held his infamous saber pike in his left hand. He seemed ready for whatever he was about to enter into.
He took a step forward and marched menacingly towards Perla's Bar.

 

[Dominic Craig]

Objective: Stalk.
Post: III

The walk through Terminus's avenues and streets was brisk. It seemed Dominic's mark was a worried man. He kept checking corners, and watchig his back. Although that would usually be put to the usual and haphazard nature of Terminus' criminal underbelly. But this man was a made man from what Dominic could tell. He should've been assertive. But instead, he clasped to the bag, and crept around corners. Slinking like a thief. It was only when he slipped through a crack in a wall, that Dominic's hypothesising was broken. He followed suit, into the vast and empty expanse of a warehouse. There were however some guards who were standing guard at the other end.

This was interesting. Using the shadows, Dominic trailed the man, before ducking behind a pillar. His mark hurridley made his way through, nodded in by the guards. Now it would be his turn to see how things went. Looking around, Dominic found a broken piece of concrete, about the size of his palm. He cleaved it in his grasp, and then lobbed it through a nearby window. The guards instantly broke from their posts. Attentive, and cautious, they approached where the rock had been thrown to, and all the while Dominic past through. Easy as could be. Now to see if he could find out more.

But before he could comprehend it, a sharp, blunt object was applied to the back of his head, and Dominic Craig's world went black.