Private Mo Money, Mo Problems

[Agrippa The Hutt]

A-town, the bottom of the barrel, the scum of the planet Corellia. At least that’s how Agrippa saw it. Slithering through the streets of the sector he cut an appearance almost never seen in that portion of the city. It was rare for a Hutt to ever truly leave their court or base of operations, it was usually bounty hunters or members of their gang that handled their business out in the open. There were just some things that needed a personal touch.

The streets of A-town sat barren as the time was 0200. People were either in bed preparing for their next day or at one of the numerous clubs within the sector. So many blissfully unaware of what was about to befall their haven. For every action there was to be an equal and opposite reaction. For the Yōkai, their actions had brought upon them the wraith of Agrippa the Hutt, better known as the pillar of pride. A standard week prior one of their raids on his spice warehouses ended up with over fifty-thousand credits of merchandise loss. But above it all, Agrippa's majordomo had been caught in the crossfire.

Between the hutt’s lip, a chandrillan cigarra was lit, smoke funneling out of the alien’s maw. The sweet scent of the tabac filling the air. Eyes glancing up to a camera that looked over the streets, Agrippa offered it a simple wave. The slicers he had on the payroll having already infiltrated the sector’s infrastructure. All the cameras would see was a loop of the empty streets. None would see the Hutt and half a dozen men that accompanied him. All dressed in dark clothes that bulged in places. Even Agrippa wore a large black robe that draped over the upper part of his form.

Coming to a stop before the neon lights of Ozai, Agrippa looked up blowing a large cloud of smoke into the atmosphere. Bits of the grayish-blue skin was visible as the crimelord raised a com to his lips. Narrowed amber eyes never leaving the building.

“Cut the lights,” Several seconds passed nothing happening. One of the Hutt’s brows raising in question. He’d paid that bothan what some would consider a year’s salary to do the job. If he failed the furball would have to fear more than just losing their skin. “He was one of yours Yangir. You shall share the same fate as your friend if he's failed us.”

“Don’t worry sir, he’s one of the finest slicers I could hire.” The brown-skinned zabrak enforcer said, unwilling to meet Agrippa’s withering glare. “He’ll come through.”

Perhaps the force sought to ensure Yangir and the bothan didn’t die. Or maybe the bothan was just as good as the enforcer had claimed. Whichever mattered little. All the lights of Ozai would go out, the power going to the building and every other within five blocks coming to a halt.

A smile touched the slugs lips, spreading wide as he reached down raising up what he’d come to call the BFG. The whine of the weapon pierced the now silent air before a barrage of super-heated plasma was let loose on the front of the establishment. Each strike was enough to completely melt entire portions of the structure, or plowed through detonating inside. The enforcers did the same, slugthrower rounds and darts of red energy tearing through the building blowing chunks free and tearing through the crowd within.

Maou

 

[Maou]

The music thumped and smoke hung around him and his crew. Liquid fire swam through his veins and narcotics dulled his senses to the point of near nirvana. Sitting across from him were three of his lieutenants, Sai, the Madam, and Keiko with the latter two both curled up to Sai. How long had they all been fooling around together now? The thought was quickly washed away in another puff. A few bags of Hutta Burger and several bottles of liquor sat on the table between Kaito and his company. From the penthouse suite, he could see the entity of the "Upper" level of the club and the live entertainment was doing their job well. His eyes fell on a tight little Pantoran woman, the daughter of a Councilor from a neighboring sector. His eyes twinkled with the thoughts of what he'd do to her if-

"Ugh, at least look at me," came a closely familiar voice, heavily Ryl accented basic. He loved that about Twi'leks, the way their voices sounded like music. The yellow-skinned Twi'lek straddling him glared at him mockingly before taking the cigarra from his hand and taking a long drag. A hand tenderly caressed the red mask on Kaito's face before she playfully blew the smoke in his face.

"Are you ever gonna show me what's under that mask Oyabuunnnnnn?" Her fingers laced beneath the mask. Kaito tensed as a sense of danger raced up his spine. Reflexively he grabbed the woman's wrist tightly. She shouted in surprise and pain. "What's with you?!" A moment later the lights cut out and he heard shouts of fear and confusion from down below. His lieutenants were up in a flash and Kaito stood, tossing the girl to the couch they were sitting on. Just as well, she was beginning to get too friendly...

<I'm going upstairs, something isn't right.> As if on cue he heard the sound of an unfamiliar weapon along with several blasters and slugthrowers of makes he did recognize. Next came the screams. Someone had the audacity to attack him? In HIS home? His blood boiled, anger spilling out in the Force, his cybernetic hand clenching into a fist with the pressure to snap bone.

<Oyabuun, you should-> Sai didn't finish the sentence before he felt his throat tighten.

<They come to MY home, kill MY men, MY people...No. A tiger does not hide when challenged. They will know the fury of the Demon King.> His eyes fell on the Twi'lek girl who was sitting there either too afraid to move or too high. He sucked his teeth and looked to the Madam. <Make sure she gets home safely.> They all had their orders...

Down below it was hell on earth. The blasters and slughtrowers ripped through the transparisteel and Atrisian wood walls, shredding through flesh and bone and metal. The Besalisk bartender had been struck twice in the shoulder by blaster bolts and since gone under the table and whipped out four heavy blaster cannons and started returning fire. Members of the Yokai in the crowd had taken cover and started firing back as well, donning their red masks if they had them. Patrons were strewn about the venue in various states of death or injury with some managing to get to safety through side emergency doors. But now pandemonium was spreading throughout the other levels. No alarms or calls had been sent out, partly because the slicer had jammed communications but also because in these sorts of situations Ozai had an internal com jammer meant to jam signals going out to CorSec.

Back in the penthouse doors slid open and Kaito strode into his private quarters.

Agrippa The Hutt

 

[Agrippa The Hutt]

In an instant what had once probably been a somewhat peaceful night in gold sector had become a warzone. Beams of energy darted to and fro between the rival gangs, Agrippa and his men taking cover behind food stands, dumpsters and large portions of wall. The cannon fire from the basilisk easily tearing at their cover and leaving them vulnerable.

Mass pressed to a wall, Agrippa peaked out, before quickly leaning his head back in time to narrowly dodge one of the cannon rounds. The portion of wall Agrippa hid behind exploded outwards, chunks of duracrete hammering into his mass, bouncing off harmlessly.

Sliding back even further, the crimelord looked across the way to one of the Gran enforcers who’s eyes kept darting between the Yokai and a dumpster for them to push forward. “Don’t do it you fool!” Agrippa shouted.

It was too late, the moment the alien entered the open needles of energy tore through their form, leaving them looking like a fresh slice of byss cheese. Red mist filled the air surrounding the fresh corpse that slumped to the ground as if all its bones had turned to dust. Scorch marks peppered the black robes and even the armor that the mercenary had been wearing.

A growl escaped the Hutt’s lips as he reached a meaty hand back to Yangir. “Thermal detonator.” No questions were asked, the zabrak more than willing passing a silver orb to Agrippa. In the Hutt’s massive mitt, the grenade might as well have been a toy. Looks however were deceiving. Rearing his hand back Agrippa pressed the button and counted and hucked the explosive.

The device was hucked with such strength and force that for the Yokai withing the facility it seemed to be a blur that entered and slammed into the far wall. A blur that detonated in a ball of all-consuming flame, a wave of kinetic force and shrapnel flying free and biting into their forms. The basilisk lifted from their position and sent hurling through the air, now nothing more than a smoking corpse.

Smoke billowed out the bottom floor of the Ozai, filling the streets and through it came the Yokai’s reckoning. Agrippa and his men entering the ransacked building and moving towards the stairs. Corpses littered the floor, a standing pool of blood making the surface even easier for Agrippa to slide through. At the head of the group rushing forward two Nikto that wielded blaster rifles.

Approaching the stares Agrippa heard a groan that caused him to turn back. An Atrisian man, who was now missing the lower portion of their left leg lay splayed across a sofa. Their eyes glazed as they looked towards the Hutt and his enforcers. What they found to meet them was the end of a barrel.

Maou

 

[Maou]

Kaito's private quarters in the penthouse were a far cry from the edgy, dark, club-like atmosphere of the rest of his establishment. A mix of reds and browns adorned the Atrisian wood and bamboo doors, tatami pads, and traditional sliding doors. Entering the ceremonial room where he met with others of the Atrisian crime families his gaze fell on the trio of custom vibroswords displayed artfully on the wall in front of his family crest. He sighed heavily before sucking in air through his nostrils and releasing it slowly through his lips. The Force, he knew, was strong in him. He was no Jedi or Sith though. No, nothing so selfless as being part of a religious order would fulfill him...But he did understand many of the tricks they used to keep themselves fighting longer than any, faster than any, and stronger than any. He called on these powers now to clear his mind of the narcotic induced fog that still clung to the edges of his mind. With renewed vigor and fueled by the hatred and anger of this transgression his eyes shot open, a slight haze of yellow over his amber orbs, and gripped one of the katanas.

Moments later he was clad in his armor, two more swords adorning his back. The thermal detonator rocked the building, sending a few of the traditional scrolls and paintings swinging on their wire hangers and Kaito sucked his teeth. Flexing his jaw, the heads up display of his helmet activated, bringing him from a world of darkness to one where every bit of information was at his fingertips. As he exited his private quarters a butler droid waved and made its way across the room where moments ago he'd been enjoying some pleasant company.

"Oh! Mr. Maou sir, I've been trying to reach you."

"Coms are jammed C-3, where's that heavy cannon?"

"Waiting by the door sir." As the droid said, the old Mandalorian heavy rifle was leaning against the door. "But sir, as I was saying, the authorities,"

"Well be dealt with. We have a protocol for this. Go through the proper channels and get their birds out of MY sky. I have trash to deal with." Just then his internal com beeped. It was Sai, no doubt fighting it out somewhere in the club.

"Its the Hutt."

"The what?" Kaito dealt with many Hutts, though he tried not to communicate with the slimy bastards. He could never get their minds to bend like others. He heard blasters.

"The storehouse we blew, it was a Hutt's! Agrippa!" Maou cursed under his breath. He didn't wait for the droid to berate him again about the CorSec Pigs. He twitched his hand towards the heavy blaster and it flew into his left hand. It had way more mass than he thought, but he should have expected that from a weapon that was meant to take out heavily armored droids and light armor vehicles. With no time for the lift, he gripped the blaster tightly and ran through his window, crashing through the sensor blocking transparisteel and into the club below. Already there was this Hutt's scum this high up. He fell into a roll, his armor shrugging off a stray bolt. Raising his right arm he fired blindly, letting his helmet calculate the shots for him. Red bolts flew from the gauntlet into the chests of several thugs.

It was time the Hutt learned a little about Atrisian Hospitality.

Agrippa The Hutt

 

[Agrippa The Hutt]

Snaking his way to the next floor up where the music choice of the Atrisian’s continued to play from the dj’s datapad, Agrippa stopped for a second his interest piqued. While the music was no longer blaring over speakers due to the lack of power, the device alone still held a satisfactory output, or at least it would if the sound of blaster bolts and slugthrowers wasn’t so prominent. The frenetic sound of the song, the reverberating bass that felt as though it was physical reminded Agrippa of glimmik music. Never had he known Atrisian’s had partaken in the creation of the music, nor that it would be so enticing. Unknowing to the crime boss his own head was bobbing to the beat of the song as him, Yangir and one other enforcer came fully onto the floor.

In the wake of the two nikto, many of the Yokai couldn’t hope to do anything. The aliens naturally resistant to blaster weaponry which simply offered them ample opportunity to tear into the atrisian’s numbers. The scent of roasted pork and ozone filled the Hutt’s nostrils reminding him of his days as a simple enforcer. What it was like to wield a weapon, to cut down the enemies of your boss, and to be rewarded handsomely. Now centuries later here he was doing the same thing alongside his own men.

The only real lights left in the club were those offered by the needles of energy that stitched through the air. Agrippa even catching one to his shoulder the bolt doing nothing, barely a mark left behind. Scoffing Agrippa’s tail lashed out in a wide swing. A trio of atrisians were unlucky enough to be in the living mace’s path as it slammed into them with enough force to crack bone, dent durasteel and sent them hurtling through the air.

The sound of glass shattering caused the Hutt to look up where a figure drabbed in crimson armor and a mask landed amid the chaos quickly disposing of the two nikto that had been giving the other Yokai trouble. “They certainly love their demons. Yangir, show them what a true demon is. Me and Casak will cover you.”

From Agrippa’s side the young zabrak passed over a bandolier of grenade, before drawing a vibrosword and pistol rushing Maou from the side. From there Agrippa and Casak split up taking up positions behind pillars, Agrippa’s massive form being to big for even the pillars to offer sufficient protection.

Scoffing the Hutt reached down seizing one of the lush sofas at its base. With a sudden tensing of his forearm, biceps and shoulder muscles Agrippa sent the piece of furniture flipping through the air and into a group of Atrisian’s.

Maou

 

[Maou]

With a sickening squelch, Maou pulled his vibrosword from the chest of another one of the Hutt's goons before setting the vibration motor to its highest setting for a brief moment to expel the blood from its blade. He heard it before he sensed it and met the blade of a Zabrak assassin with a loud clang. He was strong and larger than most Zabrak he'd fought. With a growl, he pushed the man away and followed with the start of his own assault. Caught off guard by his strength, the Zabrak was quickly put on the defensive. Disarming the man, Kaito gripped the Zabrak in the Force, his rage overflowing and cracking the man's duraplast chest plate. He roared and threw the man through the air, impaling him on a pipe protruding from the destroyed wall.

He turned his head to the stairs as his men were tossed back, a couch following them.

Agrippa The Hutt

 

[Agrippa The Hutt]

Agrippa saw the death of Yangir, the zabrak he’d practically raised. Agrippa remembered when he’d taken Yangir from his parents, or rather the other way around. Owing credits to a Hutt oftentimes could prove to be lethal. Agrippa remembered seeing the boy learn to crawl, his first words. The Hutt even remembered the zabrak’s first job. Being sent out to extort a local arms dealer for credits. They’d refused to pay and in return Yangir, a thirteen-year-old boy brought their head to Agrippa. Yangir had been Agrippa’s. All the enforcers that lay dead and dying had been his! Their lives snuffed out by the insignificant maggots that made up the Yokai.

With nothing but his final enforcer, the Gand Cassak at his back. Agrippa knew they couldn’t beat the Yokai like this. While they had killed more, the chances of them walking out alive were now slim to none. Gold eyes glaring at Maou, a rage building up in Agrippa he brought the rifle up aiming it at the crimelord.

Agrippa’s breathing was heavy as blasterbolts shot past on either side of him. Two striking and dispersing against his thick hide. The rifle whined as Agrippa pulled the trigger. A slight smirk crossing the Hutt’s face. Before the round fired off, he raised it to the center of the ceiling between himself, Maou and the other Yokai. The large ball of plasma impacted with enough kinetic force that the entire ceiling fractured, buckled and came collapsing down upon all those on the floor. Junk and furniture from above came tumbling down to bury, clobber, and crush Yokai. Even a large bulk of rubble falling upon Agrippa himself. Dust was kicked high into the air. From outside the Ozai people would see a cloud of debris explode outwards, glass and chunks of stone flying free amidst it.

From beneath a large chunk of the ceiling, came Agrippa. Holding the massive chunk of infrastructure as if it weighed no more than a toy he heaved it off and into a corner. A single strand of bluish-green blood retreated down the right side of Hutt’s face from the crown of his head. Those eyes filled with malevolence, scanning the wreckage over.

Maou

 

[Maou]

Maou took a moment to admire his handiwork, sweet satisfaction glinting in his eyes behind his helmet. He savored the moment that he felt the Zabrak's life blink from existence and sighed heavily as if shedding a weight. He looked to his left hand and tightened his hand into a fist several times, testing the cybernetics. The Zabrak had been strong, and his earlier assault had shaken him more than he'd realized. The narcotics he had been partaking in earlier were also still in his system, slowing his movements, and so a diagnostic was in order. That would come later though, because his helmet's audio amplifiers were picking up the raspy sound of a fat, slithering, disgusting Hutt.

"All over the new floors..." he muttered under his breath. Well, at least at this point he'd have to remodel anyways. Orochi would not be happy about this night. As the Hutt slithered onto the floor, Maou flourished his blade, throwing a few remnants of the Zabrak's blood onto the floor in a gesture that was partly one of mocking, and partly one of challenge. The Hutt raised his strange weapon and as it began charging it dawned on him that this was the weapon he'd heard before everything had gone to Hell. He cocked his head in question, his HUD picking apart the weapon, coming to the conclusion that there was nothing like it on the market. Maou cursed under his breath than shouted Atrisian obscenities at the Hutt that would have made an Atrisian Tiger blush. He charged the slug-like alien head-on, confident that with the power of the Force behind him he could dodge the shot and close the distance quick enough-

A sound, like thunder, rang in his ears as the cannon fired, its red bolt flying...Into the ceiling? Maou skidded to a stop and looked at the Hutt indignantly, not that the Hutt could see his expression behind his helmet. The ceiling collapsed around him and his other men, but Mou called on the Force once again, rage filling him, and slowed the rubble down in an attempt to keep it from falling at all. But he was not well enough trained, and the narcotics still scratched at the edge of his mind, begging for his attention. He gasped as the rubble tumbled over him and his men. Shortly after the Hutt rose, the few remaining Yokai gangsters began to pop out of the rubble shouting for their leader. In the center of the room, a large chunk rumbled and then flew into the wall, crumbling into dust.

"Agrippa the Hutt!!" he shouted, his modulated voice echoing around the room. "You, a new player to Corellia's streets...Stole my spice, spirited away and sheltered a boy who stole from US," he gestured to the fallen building indicating the Yokai yes, but also the general Atrisian underworld of Corellia, "And have the gal to come to MY HOME," he slammed his katana into the ground, sending the blade halfway into the ground without the vibration motor active, "And seek vengeance on an act of rightful discipline?" Maou shook his head, his helmet's photoreceptors flashing red.

"You will meet your end here tonight Hutt. You WILL know the bite of my sword." As if on cue a whistle came from a floor above, on the edge of the destruction. He looked up to see Sai, holding a large Nodachi. Perfect for cutting this slug into Hutt Sashimi. Sai tossed it, and Maou guided it with the Force into this hands. Somewhere in the room, a speaker still bumped music, the song shifting as Maou drew the long blade from its scabbard, a nearly imperceptible hum emanating from its vibration generator. He pointed the tip of the blade at the Hutt in a challenge, no mocking gesture this time.

Agrippa The Hutt