Faction Gems in the Sky [Darkwire]

[Malicar]

The shipping mogul paced as he listened to his trading partners drone on and on about the worthiness of their respective corporations. Frankly, it was boring and unproductive—two strikes against the communication already. However, this holo communication was necessary to keep his ships transporting goods. However, Malicar’s thoughts drifted to the Inner Rim where the former crimelord sent an envoy to meet a group of shadowrunners to ensure that his “goods” got to where they needed to go in the Outer Rim. Malicar sent a message to each of them, asking for their assistance in a contract that demanded discretion. It was the first large contract he was going to offer to the contractors of Darkwire, but their reputation proceeded them. He would continue to hire them for jobs on Interstellar Shipping’s behalf—but always stay detached a step or three away from being held responsible for the jobs he was hiring them for. He sent a trusted negotiator to meet them. The alien was once a Lieutenant in Black Sun, but was able to “dress up nicely” enough represent Interstellar Shipping on the more “questionable” contracts.

His finger tapped his chin in thought as he considered the Purrgil Transport Corvette that was waiting for its cargo at the Quarzite Space Station. The cargo was innocuous enough, but with thorough scrutiny, there were items not so legal in most of the galaxy. But smuggling was still very much part of Interstellar Shipping’s modus operandi…old habits died hard. The shipping mogul smirked at the irony of this job—it was the transport of items from a warehouse, to a skyhook, up the skyhook and onto the Purrgil-class cargo corvette docked there…and it made him more concerned than cargo going clear across the galaxy.

Joli’s Cantina
1km from Warehouse 5468K
Plant of Quarzite
Inner Rim
Joli’s Cantina was part of the largest habitation area on the surface of the otherwise uninhabitable Quarzite. The tavern, much like the planet, remained dark and shadowy at all hours. Of course, its discerning customers liked it this way—discreet business was profitable business. The proprietor of Joli’s Cantina knew this well and made sure to create an environment where business could be conducted in a suitable environment. Music was always playing, servers never bothered a table unless a button was pressed within the booth. In fact, all the seating was comprised of recessed booths throughout Joli’s Cantina.

Sitting in a both in the far corner, a blue-skinned zabrak with black tattoos sat at the large table surrounded by a large booth, capable of seating perhaps a party of 8. With his hands crossed, the zabrak’s skin was a stark contrast to the ornate, light fine clothing that he wore, complete with maroon scarf, draped lazily around his neck. Sipping a glass of wine and wearing a simple, pleasant smile, the former Black Sun Lieutenant seemed to be simply enjoying his time to himself. But appearances could be deceiving. A simple datapad sat on the table in front of him and he waited patiently for the Darkwire contractors.

 

[Cassus Akovin]

​

Getting down to the surface of Quarzite had been an interesting problem for Cassus. A single point of entry, and a single point of exit for an entire planet. It made the ideal point of control for the Corporate Authorities of Denon, and their presence aboard the Sky Hook was undeniable... unignorable. Ads of every kind were cycled throughout every useable screen watching surface on the space station the moment he arrived. Strange vapors seemed to permeate the air, almost necessitating the boy to wear his mask, filtering out the choice of toxin for every bum that managed to get stuck in this commercial nightmare. Caught in limbo between an unlivable world, and the deadly depths of space, trapped by corporate greed.

The number of people transiting here in the Sky Hook was surprising, and very quickly it began to make sense why a Corporation might need some level of security greater than they often could provide. A movement of this sort required a particular kind of discretion that CorpSec had proven from time to time utterly incapable of. When the Corporations needed control, they threw money at the problem. If they wanted eyes on the event, they through it on people who were loud, and made a whole announcement about it.

If they wanted eyes to go elsewhere, they gave it to the criminals - Darkwire.

Which made it awkward getting through customs, but only just so. The Criminal Network held a host of resources and advantages the common crook could never compete with, and despite the uncomfortability of the space station, the boy Bounty Hunter entered the Corporate Vault World without issue...

A Cantina built on the surface of a world with a star ship crushing atmosphere was a neat concept, and one he wasn't sure was a wise investment on the owners part. They must have some damn good insurance and some sort of incentive to keep a particular kind of audience away from the more common patron. This was likely even the intent of this new contractor. It wasn't one he was familiar with, but there were so many Corporate types operating in the territory ostensibly in the Authorities direct control he was not disturbed by the idea of working for another corporate type. Currency was currency, and despite all that he earned, Cassus still needed more, desperately for his mother. Nothing was below his willingness to take on.

Cassus entered the Cantina, feeling not exactly at home, considering his youth. He had been in enough of these bars however, to have a sense of familiarity. Perhaps even a touch of de ja vu, this was not his first time taking on a job to secure goods on a train headed for a Space Hook. Except the last time, the objective was to secure the goods off the train, this one seemed a bit different in that they wanted the goods to remain on the train. Briefly he wondered why they'd need Shadowrunners for that, but dismissed the thought. Whatever the reason, it was likely why he was being directed to this Cantina in the first place.

The CryptNet was a secure communications technology, but speaking face to face was always as safe as it got. Whatever cargo they were carrying, must be of some hefty illicit nature. Keen on finding out the rest of the details, he found the blue zabrak described to him, and approached.

"Hey," The child said simply with a wave, not really sure how these sorts of introductions go, and took a seat.

Malicar

 

[Gray Venasir]

Credits were credits, no matter how you looked at it. No matter what the job was. Some jobs were fun, when you have to hack into a big corporations databanks, and transfer all their data or money to someone else's account, or threatening a local mod boss to keep to his territory. Other jobs were boring, like finding a confused noble-man or delivering data that ended up being good for nothing. And then there were the jobs that didn't fit either of the groups. Jobs one could only describe as... interesting.

Quarzite was a world Gray had never been on. Or wanted to be on. The whole planet was a death trap, what with the crushing atmosphere, the Sky Hook being the only way in or out from the planet, and the locals. Yes, Gray had heard a thing or two about the local Kages and Belugans. Strong warriors, and the Kages were at least very nationalistic.

But hopefully, this job would not involve meeting these locals. Gray was meeting the contact at a place called Joli's Cantina, which was on the surface, strangely enough. But it made the encounter chance with the locals significantly lower.

The cantina was impresive enough, built to withstand the atmosphere, and still provide what a conatina needed. Gray noticed that the place was built with business transactions in mind. Wish more taverns were made like this, thought Gray. Spotting the contact, Gray made his way over. The job offer was given to several of the Shadowrunners, so Gray expected to meet some others there too.

"Guessing you're the one I'm here to meet?" Gray said, as he took a seat and put his hat on the table. "Pretty unusual to meet a blue Zabrak, especially at a place like this. Hello Cassus. Now, what is this job?"

Malicar | Cassus Akovin

 

[Mogra'teksa]

location :// JOLI'S CANTINA
local time :// UNKNOWN
objective :// MAKE MONEY
tags: :// Cassus Akovin Malicar Gray Venasir
[energy][wear]

There was something about shady cantinas that the twi'lek found comforting. Was it her penchant for their patrons? The fact she could so easily hide amongst those present and, for one, not stick out like a sore thumb? The prospect of dirty deeds being discussed? The musky smell of sweat-stuck clothes and cheap liquor? It was hard to tell, really, what it was that Mogra'teksa enjoyed about these places, however, it didn't really matter at the moment, oh no, her enjoyment of credits is really why she was here. Pleasure was one thing, sure, but this was all business.

Word on the street was Darkwire was looking for contractors to secure a potent payload, and if there was one thing she had learned in her time working the underground, it was that potent payloads meant enough credits to buy the pretty paint job for her speeder that her heart was set on. The twi'lek shifted her hips forward, grasping the straw of her fruity drink between a thumb and forefinger, and pressing it deeper into her tumbler, smashing at the fruit buried down beneath the ice to better glean the hidden succulence within. Whatever the band was playing seemed to agree with her, and she bobbed along to the rhythm, swaying shoulders and hips as she sipped her drink.

She had spotted her contact some time ago, of course, it was a bit hard to miss a blue zabrak just like it was hard to miss a maroon twi'lek. Perhaps her own rarity made her more apt to find the others in rooms she entered. Or maybe she was just good at her job. Either way. Whatever force it was which guided her, she waited until the Darkwire folks had appeared to finally slide out of her booth and saunter over.

A gloved hand flicked at the wrist, idly gesturing for room to be made, and Mogra'teksa slipped into the booth, shoving down with her hips as she crossed legs beneath the table, making herself at home. "Gentlemen," she hummed with a nod, "I heard you were looking for a little help." The twi'lek flashed a warm smile, golden eyes flicking between those present. She spoke with conviction and sincerity, allowing the words to simply roll off her tongue and spill into the air with velvet edge, dampening any tension which may have arisen with her sudden presence.

 

[5-WCH (Switchblade)]

Few people stared at him as he entered the bar. You don't usually see droids walking into bars alone, they were usually accompanied by a organic owner. But he wasn't a usual droid.

Scanning the room he found the contractor. It wasn't hard to miss him, he was a nerfing blue Zabarak. That was rarer than seeing one of his brothers still alive, and that was saying something. He noticed two people he didn't know, a male human and a female Twi'lek. The third person he very much knew. Cassus and him have met before, just not on the greatest of terms.

He slowly began walking toward the group. More and more heads turned as he passed tables and booths. Probably because people haven't seen his model before. It took all of his power not to unholster his weapon right now. Killing one of them won't do any harm, right?

Arriving at the table he looked down at the group. His sarcastic tone couldn't stay hidden.

"Is this the merry group I'm working with? Wonderful! Oh hello Cassus, long time no see."

For as much as his faceplate allowed him to he scowled at the boy. Being magnetized to the ground wasn't exactly the greatest introduction between the two. Turning to the Zabarak he addressed him.

"So, what's the mission."

Cassus Akovin | Gray Venasir | Mogra'teksa

 

[Rika]

Why did people live in such filthy places?

That was a question Jorj had been trying to find an answer to since he first arrived on Denon. The air was always just barely breathable, filled with the byproducts of manufacturing. Every surface seemed to be slicked with grime and grease. And no matter how much booze he drank, he could never quite escape the aftertaste of the acrid moisture that clung to everything. And yet, when Jorj asked if others found the ecosystem to be as repulsive as he did, he mostly only received strange looks and scoffs. Invariably, they would come back with how primitive his birthplace was. Remarks would include comments about dirt and mud and unsophistication.

Jorj couldn't quite understand. And he didn't seem to relate. But he still needed to make credits. His Darkwire contacts were not so appreciative at having to cover Jorj's tab. What pottery and sculpting he had managed to complete had garnered no interest. Outside of working at tattoo parlors, there didn't seem to be much desire for Jorj's "traditionalist" approaches to art. Yet, Jorj wanted to spend as much time away from Denon as possible. So the jobs he signed up for were always off planet.

That was how he ended up catching a transport shuttle to Quarzite. Lo and behold... more grime and grease. He just couldn't seem to escape it. If the Corporate Authorities were to blame for turning planets into the cesspools of filth, then he wanted to bring them down just for the sake of the natural elements they had destroyed. But he seemed alone in that regard and kept all of that to himself.

Of course, public transit being what it was, he was running late. The contact had told them to meet at a certain time and Jorj felt himself walk-jogging on his elongated feet through the spaceport to get to the designated meeting spot. He slowed a bit and tried to cool off as he entered the cantina to make himself more inconspicuous. It wasn't hard to spot the group he was meeting. He recognized some of them. Though his head hurt a little trying to remember exactly where. But the Leporine man knew exactly how to solve a headache.

He approached the bar first and ordered a shot of something strong and something to sip. Jorj took the shot straight away to take the edge off his headache. The bartender had called the drink a "Meltdown" and even just one sip was enough to wrinkle Jorj's nose. Satisfied, he turned and approached the booth. "Sorry if I'm running a little late," he said, as he sat at the large table. "The traffic was awful."

Cassus Akovin | Gray Venasir | Mogra'teksa | 5-WCH (Switchblade)
Malicar​

 

[Gray Venasir]

A decent number of people had come to the table in a short time after Gray had arrived. Other than Cassus, the only other one he knew was Jorj, and he mostly only knew of Jorj, than actually knowing him. The red Twi'lek and the droid were completly unfamiliar to him. But the more the merrier, as some people said.

Their contact, the blue skinned Zabrak, looked at all of them in turn. After a moment, he nodded to himself, and it seemed he was content. "I guess this is everyone that will be here. Very well," the Zabrak said. "The job? Why don't you have a look at it yourselves?" He pushed the datapad over to the Shadowrunners, and took another sip of his drink.

After having read what was on the datapad, Gray looked at the Zabrak questioningly. "Our job is to watch over and make sure this shipment get's safe to it's destination? Simple as that?" There was no way this job could be so easy. People didn't just hire someone for stuff like this if there weren't any danger. "And the goods will be delivered by train, too?"

The Zabrak gave a coy smile. "Yes, you are right. There is a catch, a reason for you to be here. Have any of you ever heard of QUAEL? If not, then allow me to explain. They are a terrorist group, opperating here on Quarzite. And I suspect that they will not be happy with the shipment you'll be protecting. They mostly don't like any outsiders on this planet, and especially outsiders who take things off of their planet. If you have heard of them, you know how dangerous thay can be. So, what will it be? Shall we move on to the train?"

Gray had heard of this group once before. A nasty group of ambitous natives of Quarzite. And it was true that they were dangerous. Still, this job paid too well to be passed up now. "Aye, I'm in. Lead the way."

Malicar | Cassus Akovin | Mogra'teksa | 5-WCH (Switchblade) | Rika

(Malicar, Cassus told me you had given him permission to use the Zabrak NPC, and he gave it over to me when he went on LOA. Hope it's okay."

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Cassus was pleased to be met with a familiar face in the form of Gray Venasir , they had worked a few jobs together and this would only serve to increase their repertoire with one another. It was a good thing to make allies you could trust in an organization that ostensibly didn't have any leadership to speak of.

"Hey Gray," He offered to his compatriot. They were then joined by an unfamiliar face in Mogra'teksa , though her polite language suggested a refined demeanor, something which the boy could respect. Speaking of respect, another familiar but not entirely friendly face made its appearance at the table.

"Hey Switchblade," He nodded towards 5-WCH (Switchblade) , acknowledging the thin thread of hostility they once carried in the past while in their search for Hacks on Altier, leading to a temporary altercation until everything was sorted out. This was one of the disadvantages of being in a network with so little centralization; it was sometimes difficult to figure out who was friend and foe while each separately on mission.

Last to the party was Rika , who Cassus could not recall directly interacting with any major capacity, but they had both been present on a number of operations though often in different quarters. So at least this one could be trusted if not being totally familiar to him. Though arriving late didn't help his first impression of him very much, though he could understand where he was coming from considering the filthy circumstances of this place, and thus reminded himself not to judge too harshly on the alien man.

Cassus was thankful that Gray Venasir took the lead in receiving the briefing, asking the questions. As the datapad was passed around, Cassus couldn't' help but to feel a sense of Deja Vu. This job was extremely similar to one he took on Devaron, though at the time he was taking cargo off a train, rather than keeping secured. This corpo must be extremely paranoid about whatever threat existed on this planet, or otherwise distrustful of traditional security measures.

"I'm ready," The boy said simply, attempting to stand from the table to get moving to where they were needed.

 

[Mogra'teksa]

location :// JOLI'S CANTINA
local time :// UNKNOWN
objective :// MAKE MONEY
tags: :// Cassus Akovin Malicar Gray Venasir Rika
[jumping trains][wear]

Teksa glanced over the datapad as it was passed her way, doing the rather nosy thing of pressing a finger to the screen to scroll up, then down, scavenging all of the information, rather than just catching a glimpse of it. "Hm. A terrorist cell. Sure, that sounds fine." She remarked with a chuckle, tilting her head to the side as she returned the pad to its owner. Her drink was killed with one last enthusiastic slurp of her straw, crackling the ice pressed down at the bottom for the last of the fruity tang.​

"Protect the train... are we actually boarding the train and riding with the shipment, or are we to ride alongside of it?" The twi'lek asked as she reached up to adjust the metal sections of her headband around her ear cones. Once she had found comfort again, she slid out of the booth to stand by the edge, golden eyes flickering between those present. It was a valid enough question, of course, in her mind at least. One should have paid much higher than the other and MAYBE been in the job description. Either way, she was fine with the job.​

Hands slipped down to hook thumbs into the straps of her drop-leg holsters in idle. "'cause if we're train hoppin', I've got some gear that might be useful for everybody else, if you guys didn't come prepared. I don't mind sharing, so long's ya don't break it."​

 

[5-WCH (Switchblade)]

Once the datapad finally arrived to him, he began scanning over the information. After only a few seconds he set the datapad back on the table, having gathered all the information he needed.

Train. Protect cargo. Bad people. Hostile to outsiders. They want train's cargo back. Pays very well.

That last part was all the reason he was here. Being low on credits meant that needed a good hit somehow, or he wouldn't be grounded fro a while without fuel. He shifted in his seat as the blue Zabarak explained more of the mission.

After the group said they were ready he stood up, the servos in his legs wining. They all stood on the outside of the booth, looking upon the Zabarak. The Twi'lek, whose name he had het to learn, brought up a good point. Were they on the outside of the train of the inside? Either way it was going to be dangerous.

Taking his pistol of his belt he examined it, making sure nothing was broken.

"Outside or inside, it doesn't matter to me. All I want to know if part of the pay is upfront."

Cassus Akovin | Rika | Gray Venasir | Mogra'teksa

 

[Rika]

Jorj stayed quiet as everyone else went back and forth on the mission specs. He wasn't exactly a "skilled operative" like some of these mercenaries seemed to be. He had found out the hard way what that meant on Cato Neimoidia. This time, he was determined to follow the lead of the others rather than try and do something reckless. Although he didn't exactly know how to be not reckless. Or self-centered. Or self-absorbed. Or...

The Leporine man resisted a groan. His self-doubt was just as bad. A swirling vortex of misery from which he just couldn't seem to escape. He couldn't even figure out how to deal with himself. Or what to do about how he felt. He wanted to survive more than he wanted to feel useful. But why bother? Was survival just an instinct? Or was there purpose behind his desire to go on?

Another groan was resisted as the datapad reached him last. Reading the specs over, he was pleasantly surprised. Protecting cargo? Easy peasy. So what if there were some people who wanted to steal it. Or destroy it. Or whatever they wanted to do with it. Playing defense was so much more natural for him than playing offense. After all. Defense required sitting and his fluffy butt for hours waiting for something to happen. He was highly skilled at sitting on his fluffy butt.

"Any equipment you could spare would be great," he said to the red Twi'Lek woman. He didn't have the credits to buy too much. He barely had the credits to make do on Denon. Maybe he needed to find somewhere else to go. Somewhere that wasn't Parcellus. Or, rather, somewhere where he didn't feel like poodoo.

He let the other more experienced members of their squad determine the plan. "Just point me in a direction and I'll be there." He took a final big gulp of his drink as an emphasis to his simulated nonchalance.

Gray Venasir | Cassus Akovin | Mogra'teksa | 5-WCH (Switchblade)​

 

[Gray Venasir]

"Hm, all good questions," stated the Zabrak. "Let's start with yours, my dear Twi'lek. You will be on the train, with the shipment, so there will be no need for that equipment you speak of. Though, of course, extra equipment is always useful. You might need it later, if the terrorists attack you."

"As to the payment, you will recieve thirty percent of it upfront, once we get to the train, and the rest once the shipment has arrived. That should be satisfactory enough, for you to see the job finished."

The Zabrak got to his feet. "Now gentlemen, and lady, follow me please." With that, he started making his way towards the door. Gray put his hat back on, and started moving after the Zabrak.

"Here we are," said the Zabrak, as they arrived at the loading station for the train. The group had had to get there first through an elevator to get to the underground, then a short ride to arrive at the station. The train wasn't particularly long, consisting of only four connected carriages. The front carriage was obviously the control center, and it seemed like the cargo was loaded evenly on the three others, but still enough room on them fro the group to move around, sit comfortably, and potentialy take up defense positions. A smart move, honsetly. If QUAEL managed to get one of the carriages, there would still be two of them left.

The Zabrak said something in an alien language to one of the workers on the station, who answered in the same language. "The train is ready, my friends. Your payment has also been put on there, thanks to this slimo here." He waved his hand in the direction of the worker he had been talking to. "Last chance for any additional questions. If not, then make yourselves comfortable on the train, and I'll give signal for it to start."

This planet was pretty to look at, but eerie all the same. So Gray didn't want to linger here any longer than needed. "I'm good to go," he said, and walked onto the train. Inside the carriage, he found himself a seat, and got ready for this to start.

Malicar | Cassus Akovin | Mogra'teksa | 5-WCH (Switchblade) | Rika