Faction Guided Current | Crimson Dawn [ME]

[Pogo the Hutt]

(delete wrong place)

 

[Jett Vox]

She nodded, regarding Korda's words with cautious introspection. His consideration of her answers and his responses made her feel like she was a naturally gifted tactician, but the truth was she had failed the Verd'goten in her own mind, and although she had proved able in the hammer throw, and had performed in the spear throw, she still did not feel as though she was a true Mandalorian. It was almost her only single goal since her family had died, and the one thing that drove her to be better. One day, she fully intended to enact revenge against the Chistori pirates who had murdered them.

Then there was a moment of silence when the com clicked and buzzed with Aren's communication.

<bzzt> "Well, looks like the fun's over," <bzzt> she said, unclipping her helmet from her belt, twisting her hair in her fist and slipping it onto her head. She touched the side of her helmet, which turned the voice amplifier and the overhead readouts flickered on. She powered on her weapons, and checked her blaster-pistol, making sure it was fully powered. It was. She clipped it back to her hip, then she paused. <bzzt> "Should we go back to the ship and arm up first, or...?" <bzzt>

Jett glanced up at Korda inquisitively.

Aren D'Shade Sergeant Omen Korda Veydran

 

[Korda Veydran]

BYYO: shopping (transitioning to objective 1 with Aren D'Shade )

Korda didn't answer her right away.
The moment Aren's transmission cut through the comms, something in him changed. Not visibly dramatic, not some theatrical shift, just a tightening. A sharpening. The marketplace noise seemed to fall away behind the weight of what had just been said.

Inventory.
His helmet came up from his belt in one smooth motion, the familiar weight settling over his head as the seals hissed shut. The world narrowed into readouts, targeting data, and the cold clarity of war.

He turned slightly, eyes tracking the marker Aren had sent.
"No," he said simply. "Takes too long."
Going back meant delay. Delay meant people stayed in chains longer. Or worse.
His hand moved without hesitation, drawing his sidearm and pressing it into Jett's hand.
"Use it if you have to."

By the time she could register the weight, his other hand had already reached back, pulling the Ashen Maw free from its maglock with a heavy metallic snap. He checked it by instinct, not sight, thumbing the chamber before seating a round with a solid, unmistakable clack.

HE (High Eplosive) slug.
Overkill for most things. Not for this.

His comm clicked open.
"Aren. We're moving to you now," Korda said, voice flat and controlled through the helmet. "We'll take a side route. Avoid the main corridor."
No wasted words. No questions.
The channel closed.

He looked down at Jett then, visor reflecting her smaller frame back at her in cold glass.
"Stay close," he said. "And keep up."
There was no edge of doubt in it. No hesitation. Just expectation.
Then he moved.

Not a sprint, not reckless, but a steady, ground-eating jog that cut through the crowd with purpose, one massive shoulder parting the flow of bodies as he angled toward the less-traveled corridors. Every step carried intent now, the earlier humor burned away into something harder.

Quieter.
Deadlier.
Somewhere ahead, people were being treated like cargo.
And Korda had already decided how this was going to end.

Sergeant Omen Aren D'Shade Jett Vox

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Korda Veydran Jett Vox Sergeant Omen

Aren didn't answer immediately. Her attention shifted back to the man as Omen moved him, and for the briefest moment, her hand paused at his throat, feeling the shallow rhythm still there. Alive. The confirmation settled something small and quiet in her, not relief exactly, but a sense of alignment, as though the outcome matched what she would have chosen even if she hadn't been the one to act. Only once that internal note was resolved did she withdraw her hand and rise, her focus returning to the room beyond the doorway.

What she had seen in the system upstairs now had shape and texture. The entries, the movement cycles, the way people were reduced to data points, all of it mapped cleanly onto the space in front of her. Her gaze moved across the room again, slower this time, not with the confidence of someone planning an assault but with the instinct of someone trying to understand how the pieces connected. She tracked where the movement bottlenecked, where the oversight concentrated, and where the system relied on itself to keep functioning without interruption.

When Omen asked his question, she looked at him, her voice low and steady when she finally spoke.

"I don't know how you'd want to play it," she said, honest in a way that didn't diminish her certainty. "But if this works anything like the system upstairs…"

She gestured lightly toward the room, careful to keep their silhouettes hidden from view.

"The control here is layered. If something trips too hard, it probably locks down instead of breaking."

There was a small pause, her attention flicking briefly to the collars and the routing patterns before returning to him, her tone more thoughtful than directive.

"Those collars are part of it. And the routing. They're not just moving people, they're managing them."

Her gaze shifted to the overseers, reading their posture, their habits, the rhythm of their attention, before she continued.

"If it turns loud too fast, it might make things worse for them," she said quietly. "I just… don't know how fast it escalates."

She didn't pretend otherwise.

Her hand moved to her comm again, checking the signal more out of ingrained habit than urgency, noting the approach markers shifting closer on the display.

"They're on their way," she said. "Side route, like you thought."

Aren stepped slightly to the side of the doorway, giving Omen a clearer position without needing to be asked, her role settling naturally into support rather than lead. Her voice stayed calm, practical, grounded.

"I can keep working the system if we get access to anything in here," she added. "Doors, power, whatever they're using to control this."

Another brief pause, not hesitant, simply giving him space to choose.

"Or I stay out of your way."

There was no self-doubt in it, only the clarity of someone who understood her strengths and the situation well enough not to overstep.

Her gaze returned to the room, steady and attentive, ready to follow his lead rather than shape it.

"Just tell me what you need."