Old Souls [Asemir]

[Razelle Breuner]

Fondor City, Fondor
A planet that seemed to be stuck in industrial punk, Fondor was as profitable as it was caustic, revolting, and generally dirty. Razelle liked it almost as much as Nar Shaddaa...which was to say that she hated it, but had an appreciation for its honesty compared to "classy" planets like Naboo and Coruscant. Despite apparently coming under new leadership, not much of its appeal as an industrial cesspool had changed. The air was still more smog than oxygen, the nights were still too dark on side streets and painfully neon on main streets, and the dispossessed who couldn't make ends meet in a factory job roamed in packs to commit exciting acts of violence against their fellow sentients.

Gods, how Raz had missed places like this.

The wandering clone pulled her jacket closer to guard against the faulty climate control of Fondor City. One would have thought that so much neon would also bring a bit of warmth, but if it was all holo, it didn't offer much in the way of heating. A huge crowd of people might have felt her same plight, since they seemed to be gathered in an impromptu mob across the street. Raz's eyes couldn't stop themselves from picking out details; posters on the windows, two clean-armored guards at the door and more around the perimeter, a roughly orderly line going in, and no holosign across the front of the building. Conclusion: a building had been confiscated for "official" purposes, probably from the very recent change of government. The people waiting outside were likely in line for licenses or registration. Nothing an offworlder needed to be concerned with.

Finding a conveniently ill-lit wall nearby on what might have been a drug store, Raz stared out at the lot of them from patchy shadows and lit up a stim stick. This was as good a time as ever to collect some information on this new "Galactic Alliance." See if it was anything like the one she knew from so long ago.

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

OOC:
The tags for this thread. Lol. I hope I live up to the expectations!

IC:

Ugh, I really need to pick better assignments, Asemir thought as he trudged through the pollution-ridden air of Fondor City. The acrid smell of smoldering plastics, half-processed fossil fuels, and biological putrification made his eyes water and nose wrinkle. It also reminded him of another cesspool of civilization, Nar Shadda, and that was an unwelcome memory. Too many bad things happened on that moon, too many significant and life-and-galaxy changing events originated there. He knew that he'd always associate Nar Shadda with bad things. And that trepidation would apply to places that reminded him of Nar Shadda.

Including Fondor. He decided he really disliked Fondor.

Breathing through a wool scarf to try to filter out some of the particulate matter clogging the air, Asemir plodded through the mass of Fondor's people. He tried to fit in, slouching his shoulders and having donned a battered and gross-looking cloak. His armor was retracted beneath the fringes of the cloak, and the cloak's cowl was pulled over his head. It wasn't the best of disguises but he really wasn't going for an actual disguise. Just camouflage. Something to hide his presence.

Not for the first time, he asked himself why he had taken on this job. It wasn't well-paying, in fact the payment barely covered his expenses, and it wasn't challenging. A corrupted official needed to be set straight. Sure, the man probably had a host of well-armed thugs to protect him and do his bidding, but that wouldn't be a problem. It never was. The job was nothing special.

And not for the first time, he reminded himself again that it was the people who had posted the job. They had convinced him. More accurately, what they were had convinced him. They were the denizens of the city, the unwashed masses on the streets, a group of them had pooled some hard-earned credits to deal with their oppressor. No one else had taken the job, and Asemir had a soft heart for these situations.

And now he was on Fondor. He shook his head. Maybe he should look into changing his heart.

The Forgotten slowed his walk as he came upon a line of people, waiting to enter some newly-acquired hovel. It matched the description. A non-descript building where people could register for work. And probably pay exorbitant fees. This was the place.

He thought about the plan. Too many people to do anything overt. He'd probably have to result to the Force to mind-twist his way past the guards. Killing them would be easy, but he wasn't in the mood for bloodshed and he didn't want to risk the noncombatants. They were innocents. Victims even.

It wouldn't do well to rush this, Asemir decided. It was wiser to wait a bit, see what was happening. The official was in that building, he was sure of it. He could sense the man. And with that many people queued up, the man wasn't leaving any time soon. Now he'd need a perch, an observation post.

The Forgotten spotted a glowing spot amongst the shadows of an adjacent building, and identified a humanoid. Too dark to really get a good look for detail, but probably a native. He approached slowly, unthreatening, and patted his pockets until he found a stim stick. (Feth, he hated the damned things.)

"Do you have a light?" Asemir asked the woman, stim stick in hand.

[member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Six men, large group. No visible weapons. Three are in uniform, one partial. Workers on their way for a new government registration. No threat. Razelle's eyes shot down the street she was on, refracting light in a catlike shine as they adjusted to the darkness and provided her with phenomenal visual acuity through the shadows to her left. Two women, one man. Prostitute chic. The one on the left had a holdout blaster stuffed in her bra. The one on the right was some form of blue-skinned humanoid. Likely Chiss, meaning she could see Raz. No visible weapons. They turned down an alley as they passed Razelle. He'd likely think he was getting his money's worth right before they robbed him.

One of the downsides of populous planets like Fondor was that Raz's brain filled with information. She could close her eyes and find a quiet place, but that just made her even more paranoid. She took a long drag of her stim, fighting off sleep for something like forty-six hours now with the assistance of drugs. Sleep time was time she was spending very much not safe. With Fable's parents, sure, she could afford that. On a ship, sure. But not here.

Man approaching from the right. Average size. Large, concealing coat, weapons likely. Soldier's gait, silent, likely black ops. Lighting too low to pick out facial features or possible weapons. Humanoid, assumed armed. His hand went to his pocket, and Raz switched her stim stick to her left hand so she could properly draw her blaster from her coat with her right...if she needed to. This might easily be a mugging, and if so the poor fool would wind up being cleaned up by the homicide department in the morning. He asked for a light. Raz had a utility knife on her, of course, and one of its little tricks was a lighter. She considered...

"Sure," came her response a few seconds later. "Knock yourself out."

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

OOC:
Urgh. Tired.

IC:

Asemir lit the stim stick and inhaled deeply. As the smoke seeped his lungs and the carbon monoxide fought for the attention of his hemoglobin, he added a hint of the Force to purge his body of the stim stick toxins and poisons. It was a technique he had mastered years ago during a period of his life that he didn't care to think about. To purge his body of poisons was essential to survive in the toxic atmosphere of Arcanix.

"Thanks," he said as he returned the lighter-knife contraption, having discreetly admired the efficiency of the design.

The two said nothing more, which suited Asemir just fine. This woman was not pertinent to his mission, as far as he could tell, and he sensed no antipathy. Lots of caution, wariness, but nothing that would indicate a threat.

He turned to watch the throng of people gathered in front of the nondescript building. They moved slowly, yet orderly. Obvious-looking guards helped guide the line. They stood out in their cleaner and better-kept gear. They also looked relatively well-nourished, certainly not as if they were starving. That was in stark contrast to the average Fondorian queued up in the line.

After some more minutes of silence, Asemir spoke. Quietly so that the words didn't carry farther than the two of them. "Do you know what's happening over there?" He pointed at the registration building with his stim stick.

[member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

He was closer now, and Razelle could more easily pick out individual details. The bulk beneath his coat was probably body armor, or intense cybernetic modification that might as well have been armor. Unlike the rest of these people, he was outfitted for combat. With that information, she could start working on picking out a few more things. His walk had been silent, and now, standing still, he'd barely managed to keep his stance from defaulting back to some martial art that she couldn't distinguish.

She flicked cinders from her stim stick a couple of times, using the silence and stillness to plan potential counterattacks. Heavy armor meant slower reactions. More weight to force into cooperation, but more mass behind his punches. She could duck around a cross or parry a jab pretty easily. Pivot behind, chokehold, step back. Force his weight against him. Any humanoid requiring blood flow to the brain to remain conscious would be out like a light within seconds.

Hm? She'd been addressed. Raz's voice was steady enough to be bored. "Planet changed hands a while back. Regime changes bring with them a whole slew of new political crap for people to swim through. It's some kind of official worker registry. Probably licensing and stuff." Raising an eyebrow, her eyes shined very slightly as she turned toward him, returning to normal in the light of the neon sign they were standing near. "Why the interest?"

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

Asemir shrugged, though the movement was probably hidden by the shadows. "No real reason. You walk down the street, see a group of people lined up outside some random warehouse, and there's armed guards. I think that's pretty interesting."

He leaned back against the duracrete wall. "Guards like that are a bit overkill for a licensing center, don't you think? I mean, are people really going to get violent over some registration issues?"

He didn't add that, yes, he had seen people riot over more mundane things than updating your workers registration. People did crazy things when desperate, and on a world like this, missing out on any job could make someone desperate.

[member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Shaking her head, Razelle took a long drag of her stim before she responded. "Wasn't a peaceable exchange. Lotta people might be upset with the new government. Angry, scared people in large groups creates a lot of opportunity for a security detail." Alarmism did, too. The more fear the populous was facing, the greater the pay for people who specialized in alleviating that fear. Even if they were just rent-a-cops with body armor and bigger guns, security forces were a stabilizing factor during exchanges of power. Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes, they simply gave more fuel to the fire for young and stupid revolutionaries.

"Mostly, I think it's best to give it a wide berth. It's either boring or a crate of thermite waiting to go off. Either way, unhealthy for people without a stake in this smog-hole's daily crap." She hit the butt of her stim and tossed it to the ground, squelching the cinders with one boot. "Anyway. Not worth your interest. Might wanna keep clear." Razelle and walked off, waving half-assed behind her. "See ya around, Military."

Raz was a bit too interested in nothing at all, apart from getting away from large crowds and bright lights, both of which hurt her head. If she'd been paying more attention (or less attention to useless things like the Rodian, second in line, who was currently checking his jacket for the eighth time in a row and might have been hiding a knife), she might have noticed an unassuming group of dark-garbed people wearing what might have been college backpacks, approaching from the opposite direction that she was walking in.

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

OOC:
Sorry for the delay. Christmas festivities and all.

Also, posting on phone is an exercise in patience.

Finally, if you had specific plans for the group of black-clad people, let me know and I will revise as appropriate.

IC:
He watched her walk off, appreciating her insight. His eyes followed her for just a moment more, noting that she had that certain swagger that spoke of some kind of military experience. Asemir might have thought that interesting but decided against it. In a galaxy this large, it wasn't uncommon to run across veterans.

The Forgotten turned his attention back to the registration station, or whatever it was. Everything seemed pretty normal. People stood in line. Some were patient, others were fidgety. The guards paced and patrolled, most of them adopting that cautious boredom that came from an anticipation of absolutely nothing.

This was starting to look easy, Asemir thought. He could bluff his way past the guards, and even though he couldn't see inside the building, he was confident that whatever opposition inside would match the outside. And after that, then what? Subdue the guards and capture the target and bring him to the extraction point.

Simple enough. Except for all of the civilians. Maybe he'd fire a few shots into the air and they'd run? Asemir pondered his options. He definitely did not want to involve the bystanders. Perhaps it would be best to wait for the target to leave, and then intercept him.

Ultimately, none of Asemir's planning would matter. That group of people that he had seen but ignored chose that moment to act. The backpacks were tossed to the ground, and blasters emerged. Muzzles pointed at the building. And the crowd.

In that fraction of a second as the shooting started, Asemir marveled at how, even after all of the combat he had seen, it always began like this. Time slowed. Hyper awareness. Then the training kicked in.

He ducked behind a garbage bin, knowing that the flimsy construction had as much chance to stop a blaster bolt as a sheet of paper, but at least it broke line of sight. Asemir peeked around and caught sight of the woman he had been talking to. If she had military experience, what would she do?

It didn't matter, he chided himself, because he had to decide what he would do.

After a second of deliberation, he reached for the sword strapped to his back. Time to go hunting, Asemir decided.

[member="Razelle Breuner"]