First Reply GIG: Ain't No Sunshine

[Amea Virou]

This is was where the light began,
A spot of constant brightness and joy.
But we desecrated it and made it ours,
Just to make sure they never came back.​

The final lament of a thug who had grown a heart was etched to the walls of a bloodied room on Terminus. The stench in this room was foul. The recycled air did nothing to help. What had once been a source of good in an otherwise bleak area had now become a monument to greed and corruption, same as anywhere else on this forsaken planet. What was now a blood-addled facade of destruction sent the message for the rest who dared hope for something better.

The soup kitchen’s only crime was providing hope in a world where hope was dangerously close to rebellion. It had to be squashed, it had to be made an example of. There were only the gangs, the big players, and those that refused to let themselves fall under their bottom line were stomped until they submitted or perished. This venue had chosen the latter. A few hopeless souls had scattered around the kitchen’s doors in vigil, but nobody really dared to look at one another.

This was their lot in life and the price they had to pay for daring to dream. But what they did not know was what was going on beneath the surface, in the small nooks and crannies where people still dared to speak and act. For hope was not something to be so easily destroyed lest you allowed it. The seeds of hope, the little saplings of rebellion, had been planted and they had taken root a long while ago.

A mercenary was on-location to gather as much data as possible on just exactly who had committed this crime, hired by an anonymous data broker at a premium that went far beyond the usual pay for these jobs.

“You are in position, good.” Her voice called into the mercenary’s ear. “Getting the feed from your lenses… Now.”

The mercenary, whether doing this out of the goodness of their heart or a desire for money, had been provided with an ear piece, a set of video feed lenses, and a subvocal collar. A mercenary starter kit, but lifesavers nonetheless. This mercenary was you, and your object was simple,

“Let’s go find ourselves some clues as to who did this, shall we?”

 

[Zole]

"This is just so out of place," came the reply. Amea Virou

Zole stepped up to the writing on the wall, her fingertips tracing the words without ever touching it. It did not read like a warning.

Stepping away she turned to the nearest body. Face down, one arm extended. A bloody hand print on the swing door that led to the kitchen itself.

"This one was running and gunned down from behind. Lots of blast marks, several on the door too. Compact repeater, not very accurate.

"Are you sure this place wasn't a cover or at least being used for something more? Plenty of gangs use the homeless to distribute spice to their customers."

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

“Yeah, it is.” Amea squinted at the screen and took in the writing on the wall. “Whoever it was must have fancied themselves a poet.”

Although the lenses lacked in detail, the scene was still as grizzly as Amea had imagined. Bodies, blood, a distinct lack of signs that any form of investigation had taken place here. Amea wrote it off as bribery from the perpetrator. A message for those who would try to start something similar in the area.

“I’d run a check on repeaters, but given Terminus’ aversion to law and order it’d be a shot in the dark with no real turn out. If you can find something else that would be terrific.” She nodded and ran the number anyway. Needless to say, no-one on Terminus actually seemed to have records on anything of the sort. Figures. “I used to visit this place when I still ran ops. What we’re doing today is a bit of a personal favor, so yeah… Quite sure they did not run drugs from here.”

“I know old Tarrik used to keep a safe in the back. Maybe he left something there?”

 

[Zole]

"Can find plenty of weapons like that on any corner at night," Zole agreed. This was not a core world. "Must have been another message like this with a killing before..."

She took a careful step over the body. New boots, no need to have to spend the evening cleaning gore off of them. If she had been certain this was such a personal job then she might not have taken it. She didn't know the handler, didn't know how dangerous it could be for her on the ground if the other party made rash decisions.

There were far less blast marks in the back of the location. The killers had come in the front doors. Bold.

"Found your safe," Zole said. A small back office room. One desk, one chair. "Locked. So they either took the time to shut it up or it wasn't what they were after. You know this Tarrik? They make it out?"

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

Capable and smart thinking on the merc’s behalf. Maybe there was a pattern with the killings that Amea hadn’t thought of or been made aware of. She sent a message out to her contacts in the area to probe them for information. As she waited for the response she went over the feed one more time and how the hireling went around the rooms of the abandoned soup kitchen.

All of it was relevant data.

“No.” Amea sighed and shook her head. “Tarrik was the glue that kept them together, they said. The second he died was the second they all bolted out of there.”

Next to the safe laid the corpse of a snivvian man. Underbite, two sharp tusks pointed out from mouth by the lower lip, arm and hand stretched for the wall where the safe was located. Amea shook her head at the sight.

“That’s him.” She said with a lack of any real emotion behind her words. “He wasn’t a very savvy man, most likely kept a note of the password somewhere. Wallet, computer… Sticky notes?”

“Have a look around, I am sure there’d be something.”

 

[Zole]

Zole took a moment to inspect the safe. She traced a finger along the door. Her shoulder-mounted scanner popped up and hummed quietly as it checked the depth of durasteel.

"Mechanical and electronic mechanism, basic but safe. No chance of slicing it."

Zole had a modicum of talent when it came to manipulating computers through the Force. It wasn't something she wanted to display in front of an observer she did not know.

She also kept her gaze away from the body on the floor. She didn't want her observer forced to look upon the corpse of someone they might have known either.

Zole searched the cabinet. There were files on paper and flimsiplast. Lots of sticky notes. One held what she was after. Five digits followed by one of the only letters on the safe's panel.

"Hope this is the current one," she muttered. Zole tapped it in and the safe unlocked with a heavy thunk.

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

The door opened with a hiss as the hermetically sealed vacuum inside the vault breathed freely once more. It squealed open until the keypad touched against the wall, at which point a small lamp inside the safe lit up to highlight the items on each of the two shelves within. On one shelf, a stack of credit chits, and on the other a bloodied datapad.

“Take the datapad, and keep the credits.” Amea muttered into her headset and looked at her feed. “I’d rather see it fall into the hands of someone I have a name to than some would-be crook that comes to clean up this mess.”

The sound of a door opening spread from the front of the shop accompanied by dull footsteps. A squeak shrieked and the floor shook with a thud and an ‘oof’ as whoever was outside had managed to slip on one of the blood pools.

“Company?” Amea asked. “There’s an exit through the back or the front. You can choose however you want to let this one play out.”

 

[Zole]

It wasn't a huge stack of credit chits, but it neatly fit into one hand and into a pocket on her tunic. A nice satisfying clack of ceramic disks.

"I was sure there would have been a blaster in here," she murmured to herself. In his dying moments the man has tried to reach the safe. She was curious as to what was on it. Even if she finished the mission she might never find out. This was personal after all.

Zole turned sharply and drew the heavy blaster pistol from her hip. It was the kind of blaster that suggested to people that it was a good day to do whatever Zole told them to.

"Don't normally slink out," she barely whispered. "Know if it's law enforcement?"

If it was the police or an investigator then she was going to slink out.

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

“This is Terminus.” Amea deadpanned into her headset out of sheer habit. “All they have is rent-a-cops and crooks in uniforms. You’re fine.”

An audible sigh parted her lips as she scanned their channels though. Nothing.

“No chatter on the radio. Must be a third party, just like us.” Or the first part, but that went without saying. The footsteps outside the room had gone quiet. Through the doorway into the corridor in the back, Zole could see the shape of a Bryar pistol throw a shaded silhouette against a nearby wall. The way they shuffled about didn’t seem to care much for the integrity of the scene. Amea wrote it off as her having been correct.

“If you take them out, do it quiet. This place is already filled with heat.”

 

[Zole]

Zole took a few moments to consider what to do next. Even if they were more mercenary than police, she didn't want to seriously hurt someone doing the right thing - even for money.

A person doing the right thing probably wouldn't have walked in the door with a handcannon drawn.

LET ME GET A LOOK, Zole sent back. She switched to text through her implants rather than risking even a whisper.

Zole snuck out of the back room, sliding quickly across the floor behind several kitchen counters. She didn't have a powerful grasp of the Force, but she trusted her foresight implicitly. Zole lifted her head to get a look.

ANYONE YOU MIGHT WANT TO TALK TO?

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

So she had some form of digital interface that printed text through the lenses. Amea squinted for a moment in deep thought before she noted it down and then tried to get a better view of the curious intruder. Her brows furrowed and her jaw tensed as she tried to make a decision, but in the end all she could do was.

“I am not sure who that is.” Amea spoke honestly. “They might hold some form of information that we don’t have right now, or they might be an unnecessary complication. My gut says they wouldn’t be here if they were up to something good.”

The man continued to stumble about the place, pistol at the ready as he reached for doors with an unpracticed sway around the corners to make sure he wasn’t ambushed. Not so much the handiwork of a man who knew what he was doing but more so the motions of a man who had been told to do as such. His hand placed against the door to the office and he gently pushed against it.

“Safe is open. Oh no.” The man seemed distressed. “The manifesto’s gone.”

He holstered his gun and began to reach for something in his pocket. Most likely a communications device.

 

[Zole]

"Manifesto?"

Zole's voice was as clear as the cold press of durasteel against his neck. Quiet was not always her style, but she could move quite silently when she needed to.

The question had been directed both at the intruder and at the handler on the other end of her link.

She should have asked before intervening, but Zole usually reacted based on what her gut was telling her. This time it told her, apparently, to put a handcannon to the back of a man's neck to ask questions.

"Drop the comm," she added.

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

The plasteel device clattered to the ground and slid just a bit too out of reach for the man’s comfort. His hands reached for the ceiling at the gun that was all too suddenly put to the back of his head. With a slight shiver to his voice he spoke,

“Eh, the manifesto?” He laughed nervously. “It’s ah, you know, like a list of rules an’ all.”

“What they ship, what they don’t.” That was a manifest, though. Amea raised a brow behind her screen. “Why don’t, ah… Why don’t you just put the gun down, pateessa?”

“We can talk this out.” He groaned before he tried to twist around and grab the gun from Zole’s hands. His other hand swung wild for her face with a right jab.

 

[Zole]

He got his hand to the blaster, Zole reluctant to fire a shot already. Her hand was cybernetically enhanced, her iron grip not about to give it up.

She tilted her head and rolled her shoulder to avoid the wild swing. Zole did not strike back with her fist.

With his back mostly to her she struck out with a swift kick. Her knee jerked up and down, planting the heel of her boot into the back of the man's knee. The swift blow was intended to drop him to one knee from where she would have control again.

"We were frelling talking," she hissed.

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

The man got thrown off-balance. He kneeled, stared up at the woman before him with a bitter frown as he clearly juggled something within the confine of his mouth. His tongue shifted before he spat to the side and glanced back up at Zole.

“Gun to the head ain’t talkin’, pateessa.” The man frowned, his arms held up by his sides. “The job was nothing special, yeah? Loose ends. Pretty little bow an’ all.”

Amea whispered out of sheer habit. “Ask him about the ends. What are they trying to hide?”

 

[Zole]

"Gun to the head doesn't stop you talking. But you're gonna need to keep talking now regardless. What got forgotten?"

If they were tying up loose ends then they might have been hired by those behind this. If that was the case then he was the best link they had so far.

Zole assumed that whoever was on the other end of the line was looking for pay back. That wasn't part of the current contract, but Zole would happily oblige if there were more credits on the table.

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

“I talk, I’m another end to be tied up, pandee.” The man scowled and shook his head. “You pulling that trigger is nothing compared to what they will do.”

“He’s another loose end no matter what.” Amea sighed. “What you make of him will be up to you. Not much one for vengeance, not much one for cold-blooded murder either.”

Said nothing of hot-blooded murder though, but that was best left unmentioned. Amea tapped her finger against a nearby table as she went over the details of the man. Tattoos, unkempt and unclean. Looked to be in his early-to-mid forties at best. More fat than muscle, but enough for the definition to be there. He was in a good form of bad shape.

“His tattoos. Ask him about them.”

 

[Zole]

"I can do worse than pull the trigger, but I can also walk the feth out of here without another word. No one gonna know you talked."

Zole let that sink in for a moment, canting her head to one side. The slightest shift of bright colours highlighted her optical implants. Evidence of the work she had done visible on every stretch of exposed skin.

"What are these tattoos? You marked by any of the gangs around here?"

 

[Amea Virou]

Zole

The man squirmed and tried to break free. As it grew all the more evident he was locked in place he let out a long sigh. One more grunt and he was willing to speak.

“Yeah.” He admitted with a groan. “The Blood Drops. The Brass Serpents.”

The name in themselves said nothing and yet it said just enough. Amea leaned back in her seat, peered towards the ceiling for a moment with a long sigh. The blood drops and the brass serpents had been rendered extinct by the same bigger dog that ran down the entirety of the man’s arm in the shape of a sword. From the tip of the sword dripped blood as a serpent slithered its way up the blade until it reached the hilt.

“He’s a Jackal.” Amea groaned into her mic and shook her head, hands at her hairline in frustration. “You can leave him. We’ve got all that we needed.”

“This complicates things, but not for you.”

 

[Zole]

"You can go," Zole hissed to him.

The man's face twisted in confusion but he loosened his grip on her. Zole tool a half step away and holstered her blaster.

She stepped back in faster than he could reaction. A smaller, compact blaster drawn from the small of her back and placed to his chest.

Zole pulled the trigger. The muzzle being right to his skin stopped the stun blast from making a bright flash that could have attracted attention.

She had saved him the danger of a blow to the head, but she made no effort to slow his heavy fall.

"I don't see how that's enough, but where am I going next? You need to see the data or have somewhere else in mind. You're already paying well, but revenge is going to require a bonus. It's on the table though."