Law and Order (Outer Rim Coalition)

[Fulcrum]

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PROFILE // AGENT DARKSWORD, CODENAME DEACON​

COVER IDENTITY // RED BLADE, PIRATE CAPTAIN​

MISSION // ASSAULT CHILDREN OF THE NEW ORDER HQ​

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The Terminus undercity's lowest depths were almost like another planet entirely. As a frontier trade nexus it had a rough reputation to begin with, but down here in the duracrete wilderness true anarchy reigned. Deacon could not help but sometimes wonder if this was the real Coalition Dream taken to its most absurd extremes. Everyone had someone they answered to. They had the Powers That Be, they had the Judges, but as far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned were they really all that different from this...rabble?

"Begin log," he murmured, and the recording components of his cybernetic eyes reoriented.

Below him was the crew that he had assembled back at the Waystation Cantina, but they were not alone today. Others had been hired for the same job and Judges were bound to show up. Deacon's lips cracked into the ghost of a smile. They would probably be angry he hadn't said anything about backup. It didn't matter. This was the Underground, the sooner they got used to living in the dark the longer they would survive. This was a cold, cold galaxy...

Truth was that this rumored Children of the New Order encampment was more than a minor annoyance for his overseers. It was a serious concern, particularly so closed to the First Order Exclusion Zone. Imperial fanaticism was a cancer. As soon as a population became infected by authoritarian, populist rhetoric anything could happen. The Underground knew a thing or two about toppling governments so if they said the Children were a problem then he believed it.

From its exterior the target coordinates appeared abandoned. Agent Darksword trusted his source on this one, at least as far as he trusted anyone. Inside the ruined spaceport was sure to be crawling with cultists. He couldn't hope to source the same kind of numbers, but every one of their operatives was gifted in some way. Ex-special forces, infamous mercs, expert codebreakers. They wouldn't even know what hit them...

[member="Raven Ashe"] | [member="Christine Dellard"] | [member="Servant"] | [member="Peyton Steele"]​

 

[Veino Garn]

The Underground had spoken and ORION answered. Veino crouched in the shadows, clad in his armored robes with a lightsaber on one hip and a scatter cannon on the other. At the moment, the hood was down to reveal rain sodden hair plastered to his neck while droplets rolled down from his beard.

An Imperial cult was a nasty piece of business and exactly the thing that ORION existed to fight against, along with the rest of the Coalition. Once the data had moved into Coalition space, Veino had moved. There were no Huntsmen team available, let alone nearby. So, he had come himsel. Almost as effective as a full team, but not quite.

The man squinted down at the abandoned complex before pulling some electrobinoculars from his belt and inspecting the area. “What’s your until plan?” Hewhispered to the man beside him. “Your op, your plan.”

 

[Raven Ashe]

Outfit: Raven's Mettle (Explorer/Rogue Variant)

Raven's armored helm turned to regard those that had been brought along for the ride, so to speak. Deacon might be expecting complaints, but there'd be none from the Pantoran. Disappointing? A hair. Bothersome? Most likely. Upsetting? It was their mission to test whether she was good enough to join whatever they called themselves. They didn't want her to get killed on the first outing because they "forgot" to also mentioning there were a thousand cultists inside or something, Raven didn't mind. Long as they hadn't "forgot" there were a thousand cultists inside.

"Your call," Raven agreed. "But I hope you aren't expecting survivors."

Devour them all.

That was why having others along was an unnecessary complication Raven could have lived without. Once the Force Demon -- or whatever it was -- got lose (and they were all lucky it learned not to try devouring 'allies' early on) she couldn't promise it would care about the distinction of friend and foe any longer. It ate and ate and ate. Its hunger was insatiable. Though these cultists had to be Force-capable, right? Now that was something they could both look forward to.

Something worth devouring.

It didn't actually care about bar scum. That had just been a moment of ire by the beast. An opportunistic 'snack.' Merely a touch as anything more would have sapped the Force or life straight out of someone not strong with the Force. Raven considered herself lucky they hadn't died back in the bar; it would have made things more complicated.

Tag: [member="Deacon"] | [member="Christine Dellard"] | [member="Servant"] | [member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Veino Garn"]

 

[Christine Dellard]

Outfit: Armor
Loadout: Curtain's Down, EE-4 blaster carbine, vibroknife.
Tags: [member="Deacon"], [member="Raven Ashe"], [member="Peyton Steele"], [member="Veino Garn"], [member="Servant"]

Spoiler

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndiAd4uzYac[/youtube]

Chris stood arms crossed beside Ashe and observed the men assessing the building in front of them that was the cultists headquarters. The mask she was wearing hid a serious and focused face upon her. They were about to hit the heart of the Children's cursed activities, a wide-spread and ruthless organisation of terrorists. In some parts of the galaxy themselves were probably called 'terrorists', but their cause was very different than that of the Children's.

And who were them?

A bunch of ragtags scrapped together, maybe. But a bunch of determined ragtags with a wide variety of skillsets, that united under a common cause against the oppression of the First Order and other authiritarian dictatorships. The bare thought of such regimes caused a sour taste in her mouth.

She looked at Ashe and then glanced up att Deacon after her statement. Chris had seen the pantoran work before. There was little doubt in what she said, if any.

 

[Servant]

The Intelligence had not initially intended to assist the small band in their assault on the headquarters of the imperialist authoritarian sect, though further analysis of the situation had convinced it to offer at least a modicum of assistance in the upcoming operation. While the machine mind did not believe it worthwhile to blatantly risk one of its host-forms, it did acknowledge that the loss of the pirate captain to conflict would mean a subsequent invalidation of their pre-existing contract, and thus the attempts by the entity to spread the influence of its fledgling syndicate to distant star systems would be seriously hindered. As such, the Intelligence cared less for the annihilation of the sect, and more for the preservation of [member="Deacon"] .

A mustering of arms could have taken place had the machine mind had reason to believe that they were necessary to assist in the assault, though convincing criminal elements that it was in their best interest to attack fanatic political groups would have been more difficult than convincing them to assault government assets or financially-stable institutes. Regardless, the Intelligence had acknowledged a summons which had been sent out to local Judges and other Underground affiliates, and the arrival of a number of these seemed almost certain given the disposition of the organization to aggressively dissolve imperialist groups.

The machine mind briefly began to consider whether it would be beneficial for the group to establish an official imperialist party so that those with inclinations towards authoritative rule could be more easily observed and kept in line with previously established laws and regulations dictating proper governance of the star system. Perhaps at a later date, a service could be offered to establish something along those lines in order to flush out sympathizers to the cause of the Underground's enemies. If the machine was operating a political group of that nature, it would also likely receive a great degree of legal amnesty which could be abused to further its own criminal goals.

Regardless of future schemes, the Astromech host sat motionless, crimson eye glaring in the vague direction of the objective of the Underground strike team, and occasionally whirring towards the team itself, analyzing their physiology and equipment in order to determine which course of action would likely net them the safest approach, and which would require his intervention. Preparedness for trouble would save precious nanoseconds in the relative chaos of combat.

[member="Raven Ashe"] , [member="Christine Dellard"] , [member="Veino Garn"]

 

[Fulcrum]

"What makes you think I've got one?" the Red Blade offered [member="Veino Garn"] a lascivious grin.

In fact he had a little over a dozen working plans at the moment. It was how the Hapan Watcher had trained his mind to operate, always considering every possible outcome and strategizing accordingly. His cover however was a different story. Deacon only revealed his true identity on a need to know basis and the Saarai-kaar didn't need to know. As far as they were concerned he really was a semi-reformed pirate captain only in with the Underground for credits and glory. Red Blade wasn't exactly a big picture kind of guy.

"Just try and keep up, tin man."

With that he leapt from his vantage overlooking the ruined spaceport and fired a grappling spike to arrest his descent. Artificial eyes scanned the structure, mapping its layout with the data available. He detected life signs within but their number and location were indeterminate. Some kind of scattering tech and likely the very same means by which the Imperial cult had eluded their notice for so long. Deacon had to respect their persistence but these were not exactly the galaxy's finest. Stormtroopers might have been a challenge but the average conscript was little more than a street thug with a blast vest and carbine.

Case in point.

The Red Blade swooped down on what passed for a perimeter checkpoint, timing his release of the grapple precisely so that he could deliver a plunging double kick into one guard's back. He sent another sailing into the burning trash can his comrades were huddled around for warmth in these sunless and unheated lower depths. This drew cries of panic and alarm from the remaining conscripts. He shot the one soul with enough good sense to reach for his comm link before turning his back on the others and examining the way inside. He trusted that his hired help would handle the rest in short order.

"Try not to get caught," he told them when it was over, "These guys are pushovers but they'll swarm you if you let em. If anything like that happens to you I swear that I will get very choked up."

He was looking for whoever was pulling all the strings, but he would let one of the others be the first to suggest it. After a little convincing eventually he would come around. When you were in as deep as Deacon that was life in the Underground. Deception after deception.

[member="Raven Ashe"] | [member="Christine Dellard"] | [member="Servant"]​

 

[Veino Garn]

Veino rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. There was something about this Red Sword or Red Blade or whatever he called himself that was oddly familiar. He couldn't place it though. He was certainly reckless enough to make even a much younger Veino reconsider and he had once jumped off a spaceship to try and tackle a Sith. Not his best decision, by any stretch of the imagination. But he certainly wasn't one to try and make that kind of grappling gun jump.

He didn't exactly need to either. He gauged the distance and took a few steps back on the perch before running and letting the Force flow into his legs and body, flew off the perch and down towards the ruined spaceport. The wind rushed through his hair and he extended his limbs to guide himself towards the ground, letting the Force push himself back against the ground and enhance his legs as he hit the ground and rolled.

A punch took out one of the remaining cultists at the checkpoint and he assessed the way ahead. "Who's their captain?" His lightsaber was in his hand, but he kept it unignited for now. "And I'm not worried about getting swarmed. I'll dare them to try it."

 

[Raven Ashe]

Raven grunted before she shoved off from the edge; a little Force went a long way in soaring out over the spaceport.

As the armored figure fell down in the wake of the two men, the four eyes of its mask focused on the creatures scurrying below. Few were left now, but there'd be plenty more inside. Their fearless 'leader' of a pirate said as much. No, he promised as much. It wouldn't do if the place was swiftly taken. They'd built this thing up to be a matter of extreme importance for the stability of the Rim. It probably wasn't that big of a deal, but if it gave her an excuse to let loose...

I could let you strike the ground, the Living Darkness hissed as the air rushed by.

Eight light-absorbing, partitioned limbs sprouted from Raven's back and stabbed into the ground. They bent to absorb the impact, with the Pantoran's body suspended over the ground for a moment. Long enough for the two front-most to skewer a conscript through the torso.

Raven's boot struck the ground then as the eight legs vanished, and their meal crumpled to the ground devour of life and what paltry amount of sustenance could be taken from it.

Pathetic. There had better be greater sources than that inside.

Of course, there were, Raven thought with a twinge of annoyance. You didn't have your strongest huddled around a fire in a trash can in front. Greater meals would be found deep within. Often surrounded by whatever was considered luxury to a particular organization -- or at least not bothered with meager assignments like front gate duty.

"Don't," Raven replied to Deacon's comment about becoming choked up. "I look forward to it. Now, do we know where their commanders are? Or do we need to clear every building and every room here?" Hey, if they wanted to do a sweep job and slaughter them all, give the word. If they were hoping for some kind of surgical strike with clean-up afterward, Raven hoped the pirate would fess up to a plan already. Intelligence. Location of some sort of command center. Escape route they could cut off. Something.

Tag: [member="Deacon"] | [member="Christine Dellard"] | [member="Servant"] | [member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Veino Garn"]​

 

[Christine Dellard]

Outfit: Armor
Loadout: Curtain's Down, EE-4 blaster carbine, vibroknife.
Tags: [member="Deacon"], [member="Raven Ashe"], [member="Veino Garn"], [member="Servant"], [member="Peyton Steele"]

Chris neatly followed the example of their leader, Deacon. On a light foot, she leapt from the vantage point with ease and landed a short distance from him.

As Deacon made short work of the henchmens around the fire, her sensors picked up something coming from behind. When swiftly turning her head around, a metal pipe came rushing straight at it. Another cultist had lured in the darkness of a nearby narrow alley and were now intending to take her out. In the last moment, she managed to drop down in a crouching position and charged a reverse sweeping kick at the cultists legs, making him fall slap-bang into the ground. Wasting no time, Chris drew the vibroknife out of its sheath and trusted it into the chest of the attacker. It went without saying, that the darkness of death instantly covered his vision.

She quickly stood up again and scanned the area in a wide fighting stance, vibroknife ignited in one hand ready to make the next stab. The remaining foes were taken out by Raven and the... jedi? She didn't know that they brought one with them, seeing the lightsaber in his hand.

Raven's little show would not exactly go unnoticed by the other members. Watching her touch ground without a single fuzz was... both impressive and at the same time. It was hard to tell which one of it, it were the most. With no more threats in sight, Chris stood up straight and turned off the vibroknife, putting it back in the sheath on the ankle. A light chuckle left her as she walked up to Deacon.

''See? Told you she were wickedly good! I'm pretty glad that she's on our side...'' she said and glanced back at Raven before they all were gathered up for the next step in their business here.

 

[Servant]

It was quickly revealed to the entity that the strike team was comprised of exceptionally lethal individuals. While the Coalition as a whole seemed somewhat lacking in any form of official training doctrine, whatever instruction had been given to these organics had proven capable of transforming them into particularly dangerous personnel. The Astromech host would have very little chance of prevailing against any of those assembled in a direct confrontation; the exact percentage was astronomically minor and relied entirely upon a series of increasingly unlikely mistakes. Thankfully, the machine mind had no reason to engage against any of the strike force, nor necessarily to engage in any form of combat against the ill-equipped imperialists.

Methodically, the host machine dutifully followed after the fierce warriors, awaiting the resolution of local conflict before exposing itself entirely out of easily reached cover. One of the male organics, likely a Force user if preliminary analysis was correct questioned the identity of the imperialist captain, and the Pantoran female also seemed to desire the location of the sect's leadership. The machine entity did not necessarily wish for the imperialist group to be entirely eliminated as their continued existence served to take pressure off of local criminal elements, providing a fiercer antagonistic presence to law enforcers and Coalition agents.

Regardless, the loss of a singular person would be unlikely to collapse the entire organization, and providing information as to their exact specifications would focus the hunt primarily upon them as opposed to affiliate leaders. With a speed that could only truly be achieved by a machine, the Intelligence began to scan through public media reports, data which had been given to it by its criminal associates, and whatever sources it could grasp from the HoloNet.

A dossier of information was promptly digitally compiled and shared with the communication units of the nearby strike-force agents. The machine intelligence did not bother to request any sort of permission for accessing these comm-systems. The dossier showed the physical features of the 'leader' of the organization, alongside some information detailing their most likely locations within the immediate area, having been narrowed down to roughly three possibilities.

Without missing a beat; machines possessed no hearts, it could not have missed one if it tried, the Intelligence pivoted the rotund head of its host around, demonstrating that it was speaking to the group as a whole as opposed to a single person. The sexless and monotone voice it often utilized rose from infected comm-systems: "Our deal stands."

 

[Fulcrum]

"Rule number one about these New Order cults," the sentry he had drop kicked groaned, struggling to rise. Red Blade brought his stun baton down hard enough to make sure he wouldn't rise again, "At the center of every one there's an inner circle of Sith worshiping nutjobs. Makes em tricky to completely wipe out."

Although he didn't show it, Agent Deacon had been observing each of them in combat. Even [member="Veino Garn"] was subject to his scrutiny. It did not matter to him if the man commanded an entire enclave of legendary warriors. He needed to know that the people watching his back were reliable. [member="Christine Dellard"] fought like a bar room brawler which made sense upon reflection. Her effectiveness however could not be denied. Likewise with their newest prospect, even if the sight of mutant limbs emerging from the lithe frame of [member="Raven Ashe"] forced him to suppress a shudder.

"She's got talent but we'll see if she makes it out alive," he answered Chris loud enough for the pantoran to hear. After a glance back the way them came the pirate added, "Ghost in the tin can will be along. This is more its kind of thing."

Sure enough a lone astromech came trundling up shortly thereafter. Deacon felt a ping on the wrist mounted holopad poking out from under his bomber jacket and from the quality of intel pouring in he knew it could only be the work of [member="Servant"]. The pirate raised an eyebrow high enough that it peaked out from under the ever present shades.

"Now this is interesting..." the Red Blade muttered to himself. He glanced up at his audience, "Things down here are worse than we thought. That's a Sith political officer, the Emperor only sends legit emissaries to cults that are large enough to be worth his time."

He didn't have time to report in or call for the proper overwhelming force kind of backup. A good agent worked with the tools he had at his disposal.

"We can't let this guy escape, which means we're gonna have to split up. Hitting each location at once is the only way to be sure."