Hunting

[Setter Ryburn]

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Coruscant Streets​

0145 Local​

"Straight Razor" Alley​

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Razor Squad was making enemies. And at the same time, making friends. But this wasn't for the Republic. This wasn't for the Remnant. This wasn't even for the Remnant Military. This was a personal mission, a vendetta, a mission of vengeance. From the right hand of the Republic. Setter had chosen not to wear any Republic uniforms. RS16 rifles, plate carriers. Black masks.

They were here to cause violence. Here to hurt people. He pulled the skull mask up above his face and loaded a magazine into the weapon, pulling the black coat over it. He looked at the gathered men, checking the chamber of his weapon. They were headed first- he, at least, was heading for one of their local hangouts. A cheap bar called the Checklist or something like that.

Setter entered first, the patrons of the bar unaccustomed to the amount of light this late at night. Setter didn't need to say anything. He pulled the rifle up to his shoulder, and shot the bartender square between the eyes. The rest of the patrons were stunned as the near-silent weapon fired off a torrent of rounds. Criminals and scum alike, fell to Setter's rapid-fire justice. A quick reload, a dropped magazine, and twelve of them were dead.

They were the ones, or part of the group, responsible for the murders of his team, and the betrayal. They had no real connection, but Setter wanted to send a message- if you messed with Razor, you died. If you crossed Razor, you died. If you messed with the Republic, you died. That was the first one tonight, the first stop on Setter's revenge-fueled ride. And within the first five minutes, Setter had stacked up twelve bodies- there was no telling what else Razor was going to do with the rest of the night.

 

[Setter Ryburn]

The garrote wire wrapped around the man's throat. He was the doorman to the local scene, a thin, pale humanoid of some kind. Setter pulled him into the alley near the club, pushing the man against the wall. The doorman tried to cry out, but found it extremely difficult with a wire around his neck. He asked Setter if he was going to kill him. Setter said that was up to him if he bled out or not. He looked confused.

All Setter needed was his eye for the retinal scanner.

Setter grinned as he pulled out his knife.

It was short work, and the man slumped over, passing out from shock. He let him there in the alley, bleeding. He began his next track. The club. He was going to shoot up a club. He threw the coat over the rifle and checked the action on his disruptor pistol. No witnesses. No mercy. Not that he was going to offer anyone any tonight anyway. Tonight? Tonight was pure hatred, tonight was pure revenge. And it was a message.

Nobody could come after Razor and get away with it.

Kill 'em all.

 

[Xi Rel]

CLUB NEXUS, DOWN THE STREET

"I dont belive it. Even for a kontakt-place, this dive is not the kind of place Id expekt a politician to come down to. Not even one looking to hire someone to kill a Jedi and his family. But... this is the spot." a tall-ish hooded woman thoght, looking diskretly over a data pad.

Xi Rel never realy konsidered her-self a bounty hunter. She always seen the praktice as dis-honorable. But, if she culd make some credits, AND kill sworn enemys of the Sith Empire... she wuld make a exeption for that.

Taking a sip of her drink, some type of local ale, she glanced agen around the club. Prety full, at this time of night on Coruscant, nobody vas paying any partikular atention to her, a cloaked and hooded figure, nursing her drink. The cloak did a good job koncealing her pair of Tremor swords in back-scabards, as wel as her trained, hardened frame. Even tho Coruscant has long since passed from galaktic prominence, since the fall of the Republic, it stil wuldnt do for a Sith to walk around its streets, vithout some form of koncealment. Only her sligtly-glowing orange eyes, her Bladeborn clan tattoos, and a hard expresion on her face, wuld identify her, if one looked closely.

Taking another sip, she brifly streched-out thru the Force, atempting to pinpoint any sense of purpose or intent near-by. In a dive like this, it always payed to be on-guard, since a random pickpocket or other kind of pety criminal culd try there luck on a seemingly oblivius cloaked figure at the bar. At the same time, she had her glass pozitioned in a way, that the reflektion on the likuid in it, given her a fuzzy view of the club entrance, about two dozen meter behynd her, the club's podium in-betwen, filed vith patrons and club dancing girls. Vhen her kontakt finaly showd-up, she wuld rekognize him imediatly.

Nothing imediatly jumped-out to her, as she streched out. Some senses of violent intent, but not in the imediate area. That didnt suprise Xi. This far down Coruscant under-city, the criminal element vas kuite active. All the more reason for her to stay on-guard, however.