Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Paprika (Open)

"Oh, what a wonderful day!"

John Doe strode out of his room with a hop and a skip, much to the surprise of the goons who were guarding his doors. Slaps on the backs went all around to the motley crew, and the crime lord merrily made his way from his room to the balcony overseeing the warehouse. Down below, various workers slaved over raw materials in order to make the one and only special treat that criminals and addicts of all shapes and sizes loved: John Doe's galaxy-famous Paprika!

The workers took a break from making the spice and looked up at their nefarious employer. A familiar smile split John's face as he straddled up to the railing and leaned over precariously, crying out with a voice that echoed and reverberated along the rusty walls.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and unknowns! We are about to become big in this galaxy!"

Assorted applause and cheering rang out from the chemical workers and the assorted henchmen that guarded the lab. They knew their boss enjoyed a show, especially when he dressed the way he did then. Bright green hair, coupled with a full purple tuxedo, really gave off the appearance that the madman wasn't clowning around, that he meant business. They also knew that John Doe was prone to murdering anyone who didn't want to play along. Still, the pay was good, at least short-term. Long-term employment with this particular maniac usually didn't end well.

"Oh, I can feel it! I can feel it in my itsy-bitsy, shriveled piece of charcoal of a heart! Tonight! Tonight is the night where we expand in this slimepit of a moon, and I...I mean, we....creep up on the galaxy and stab it in the throat!"

Even more applause. It was painfully obvious that some of the employees were a little too overeager in their praise, hollering and jumping around like monkeys.

"All right, shut up!"

The crowd was instantly silent.

"Some of you really need to work on your acting...anyways, where was I? Right, galactic domination! You all know what you're doing. Spread out. Find any spice dealer that isn't employed by John Doe Incorporated, and beat the ever-loving bejeezuz outta them! Don't kill them! Not until you find out who they work for. Then follow their directions and sic any other lab you find! Too easy, am I right? Oh, what am I saying? Of course I'm right!"

The thugs and goons rapidly began arming themselves to the teeth. Pistols, rifles, clubs, grenades, bombs, and poison gas canisters changed hands and were all in the mix.

"Now, go out there and wreck havoc!"

The doors to the warehouse busted open, spilling quite a number of armed henchman into the street that lined the industrial sector of Nar Shaddaa. John Doe jumped from the balcony and walked behind the mob, laughing maniacally.

"What did I forget to say...oh, that's right! I'll kill you if you fail!"

The unruly group was too far away and too noisy to hear the parting comment. No matter. With a pleased sigh, the crime lord's gaze went over to an unfortunate onlooker, a beggar who had witnessed the entire event. His eyes couldn't get any bigger. Doe turned to him, and a frightened gasp escaped his mouth.

"Ahhh, what a nice group of scum and villainy. Here you go, friend! Enjoy, preferably in a public place. The effects are normally the most stellar when you take it in a group setting."

The lunatic tossed a small package of Paprika to the vagrant, who nearly soiled himself in fear of what was thrown his way. Upon realizing what the contents were, however, a wild grin spread on his face, matching John Doe's, and he scampered off to ingest the spice.

"Really should warn him about the side effects. Bouts of uncontrollable rage coupled with violent hallucinations don't tend to reel in the repeat customers. Ah, well. At least that'll serve as a form of diversionary entertainment. Bahahahahaha!"

The doors of the warehouse slammed shut, with the madman and a small group of cronies inside.
Daniel stood in the corner, silently watching as the clown gave his speech in his usual animated manner. His voice seemed to croak with laughter at every other word, and he was all over the stage, much like some performer at a play. It left the shaper to wonder just what this man had done for a living before raising a spice empire. However, such thoughts didn't have much purpose in his head, as regardless of what kind of man he was, at least he was paying Daniel handsomely to protect him. Why was he doing mercenary work, though? He had a company, thanks to his half-brother Nick Imura, but recently it hadn't done him much good. He only had one product up, and other than that, he had to sadly admit that he'd been neglecting his resources a bit. In that event, he was now forced to take on odd jobs here and there, like guarding crime lords for example. Daniel knew full well what this particular drug was capable of, and it pained him somewhat that innocents could and would be harmed by it. He just had to keep reminding himself that as long as he didn't physically see the damage, he would be alright.

As his client moved into the next room, Daniel raked his hair back and followed after him. Currently, he was wearing his normal attire, so his armaments were out in the open and easy to be seen. Filling the holster to his left was Icebreaker, his heavy hand cannon, and fitted onto the small of his back was thunder gun. Here on Nar Shadda, one never knew what could happen, or when things could go south, which more often than not, they did. Once the clown and the other guards were inside and the room was secure, Daniel took to a little corner once more, a spot where he could survey the entire room. One of the thugs in the room scowled in his direction, and in return he snapped his fingers once. A small icicle materialized from the moisture in the air, then flung itself at the wall directly behind the thug. The said thug promptly quit his staring and found a rather lovely spot on the opposite wall to look at.

[member="John Doe"]
[member="Daniel Imura"] [member="John Doe"]

If there was one thing there was never a shortage of on Nar Shaddaa, it was holes to hide in, to crawl into a bottle and die. And the aged blind monk, speaker of the dead, oracle of the fallen, savior of Druckenwell, and miserable old scholar was doing his damnedest to do so. At least, he had been half an hour ago. Then he'd sensed it. Felt it, like the old dust of bones gathering. Tonight was going to be a gang war. The man looked more like a hapless old beggar than a decorated war hero. His robes were dusty, his straw hat was riddle with holes and stray pieces of grass, and his arms and chest seemed wrapped in linenes usually saved for dead people. Certain folk on certain planets would call him a living mummy. Nar Shaddaa was not so cultured, so they called hi ma drunk idiot with a blindfold on. Still, he was already about five bottles in when he heard it. A bunch of armed maniacs running around on the streets, swinging at any spice dealer. Turf wars....they always did suck for the little guy.

The old man walked out of the bar, hands wearing his favorite gauntlets, a gourd on his belt, no weapons to be seen. One of the thugs lunged at him with a vibro-knife the size of a human forearm. The gray haired monk twirled gently, his robes lifting up slightly to reveal green silk pants as he planted a foot on the mans back with surprising speed, pushing his attacker off the walkway to a fall that would likely kill him. "Amateur...." he mumbled darkly as he sipped from his gourd. This was going to be a long night.....
John Doe looked at the display of cryokinesis and belted out laughing, his almost manic howls bouncing off the walls of the warehouse.

"My, my, that was a rather cool display! Yes, it'd certainly be chilling to see what you could actually do! Bahahahaha!"

Without warning, John pulled out a quite hefty looking blaster pistol from the inside of his tux and shot the thug who had been giving one of his bodyguards the stink eye. The man's corpse slumped against the wall, a hole smoking in his chest. His henchmen looked around, somewhat shocked.

"Well, what can I say? After the way he looked at you, I had to put him on ice."

With a more menacing chuckle, the crime lord strode past his guards, who tried their hardest not to do anything that might upset Doe further, and he went up to the bodyguard who could make pointy ice sticks.

"Can't say I got your name, snowflake. My assistants handles the hired help and muscle. But your itty bitty display has garnered my curiosity. And you know what they say. 'Curiosity killed the random henchman'. Wait, is that how it goes? Tehehehehehe."

Meanwhile, in the streets...

"Woah! That old dude just took out Boppo!"

"Get him!"

A small group of thugs surrounded the blind man. A few of them had knives out, but most had holstered their weapons, deciding to beat the kark out of the ragged man instead of just offing him.

"You're gonna pay for that, tramp! No one messes with John Doe's gang and gets away with it!"

[member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Daniel Imura"]
Deep breaths. Doe could only kill him if Jaf got on his bad side. Which, admittedly, was something that proved to be undemanding if his previous observations of the wide-smiled crime lord were to be appreciated. Jaf Diechass was no smuggler. However, Jaf Diechass was also not a wealthy individual. To break into the spice game at this junction would save him from having to do rogue trades in the Outer Rim ever again. If only his throat wasn't currently inhabiting a large lump, he'd be able to speak up and earn his fair share.

"Uh- uhm, Mister Doe?" croaked Jaf, struggling to find the confidence to speak in his usual demeanor.

In truth, there was something... inhuman about John Doe. Maybe it was the artificially viridescent hair or the particularly bohemian style of clothing, but in a galaxy of incredibly versatile ecodiversity the figure stood out as one of the most unwonted that Jaf had seen yet.

[member="John Doe"]
What sounded like an odd croaking noise came from John Doe's side. The grinning crime lord turned around to look at the blue-skinned alien before him, who was struggling to make words. Funny, that was an effect that most who tried to speak with him had in common. An even wider smile nearly engulfed the entirety of his lower face, revealing yellowed teeth.

"Eh? Cat got your tongue? Speak up, young man! Come on!"

In a jesting, theatrical movement, the animated figure strode over to the nervous pilot and put his arm around his shoulders as his face bore closer to the alien's, a little too close for comfort.

"Nervous? Don't be. I'm not going to kill you...well, no promises there. Tehehehehe!"

John broke into a laughing fit, almost bringing the pilot down with him as peals of manic shrieks rocked his body. Wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, Doe looked back to the alien, who looked like he just soiled himself.

"Jeez, kid. I'm not that I? Am I?!"

The goons surrounding the two vehemently shook their heads.

"Why doesn't anyone talk to me, then? No one comes up to me with their problems, or any issues they're having. Uncle J is here for you, boys! You know what? This young man here showed more courage and haputzka than all of you combined! Shame on you, boys!"

Doe's henchmen looked slightly confused and afraid. Were they about to die? Who knew?

John turned back to Jaf, with a more sinister tone of voice.

"Now, then. What can Uncle J do for you? Anything you want, my boy! Even the heads of these incompetent nincompoops that dare call themselves my lackeys! Whoops, did I say that out loud? Hehehehe. Speak up!"

[member="Jaf Diechass"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Daniel Imura"]
Knock. Knock. Knock.


The door to the warehouse was blasted open, smoke being pushed into the room. From the thick cloud the dim hue of a crimson saber could be caught, followed by the metal husk of the Mindeater. The sith Lord stepped inside, directly followed by two hooded figures carrying sabers of their own as well as four members of his inner eye his elite warriors armed with heavy blaster rifles. Then came the last members of Abyss quickly gathered strike force, twelve goons of his tainted legion, lightly armed and armored thugs that handled the lowest level of his dirty work. One of them dragged a corpse behind him, a young man that openly showed the insignia of the Prophet on his blood stained shirt.

Normally Abyss wouldn't waste his time to show some upstart his place on the smuggler moon, but taking out one of his dealers was more than enough reason to deliver a message. Nothing stayed unnoticed by the Prophet, his eyes where everywhere and his connections reached through every level of moon wide city. Crossing him was already a bad idea, but there was a chance that the distribution of the [member="Miss Blonde"]'s Syndicate was also a target. While he wasn't working for the syndicate, his interests and those of the ruling organisation on top of Nar Shaddaa generally aligned.

The lifeless metal construct, kept together by hate and twisted sith alchemy continued his walk, the empty, motionless grin fixed on his steel skull looking down on the clown with an almost taunting presence. It was pretty easy, either the man would surrender here and now, and make up for the damage he caused, or Abyss would wreck his warehouse, eat the minds of his goons and then drop him from the heights tower he could find. The sound of his voice was in no way human, an otherworldly echo with no traceable source that simply filled the air without his jaw moving once.

"Quite the warehouse. It would be a shame if you force me to burn it down. An easy way to avoid that would be to drop to your knees, so I might find a glimpse of mercy somewhere in my hollow chest."

[member="John Doe"] [member="Jaf Diechass"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Daniel Imura"]
The blind monk chuckled. "Tramp? Flattery gets you everywhere, lad. In the case, however, it will only hasten--"

Another came swinging with a knife, and was met with an elbow to his face, landing hard on the walkway. Two came in swinging un-armed, hoping for numbers to aid them. He grabbed one by the neck, a metal gauntlet locked around the boy's throat, while he tossed the other goon into his friends, whipping around with surprising ease. A loud cracking noise came from the old man's neck, as he smmed to loosen his body suddenly. "Boys, if you want a lesson, all you had to do was ask. I could definitely stand to knock some real technique into the lot of you," he said cheerily, taking a swig from his gourd and smirking as if this was flirtation rather than a small squad of drug-runners, his hand still firmly on the neck of one of his opponent. "I suppose it's been a while since I've had some fun...."

The gang's patience had began to waver as some of the goons now were placing hands on their holsters. Vorhi smiled warmly. He did need to get some exercise in today, after all.....

[member="John Doe"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Daniel Imura"] [member="Jaf Diechass"]
Daniel half-cocked an eyebrow at the madman's retaliation on his own thug. Not very efficient, though he had to admit, now there was one less mouth to feed. While he didn't fully understand these kinds of criminals, he did understand that the less men they had around, the less they had to promise in payment in the long run. Though he had paid Daniel a bit more than the average thugs that filled the room. Keeping a somewhat bored expression on his face as the clown came over to him in his usual merry manner, he waited past the horrible puns and witticism before answering with his name: "I'm Daniel. Daniel Imura." He wondered for a moment if John would recognize the name. Morna, when he was alive, had left quite the impact on the galaxy, and his younger brother Nickolas had done so even more, becoming a very powerful Sith Lord, and not one to be trifled with. Then here was Daniel, taking on mercenary jobs. While he did have the blood and the drive of an Imura in him, he felt no desire to flash his way through the galaxy and make himself widely known. In fact, he wasn't quite sure what he wanted most out of life, though he had taken quite nicely to tinkering with all manners of vehicles in his free time ever so often. Anyway, his name was all the information he was willing to give at the moment, preferring his privacy, especially among people in this crowd. There was just too much trouble there in the long run.

His attention, and that of John's, quickly directed to another point of the room, where a lean-built, blue twi'lek made his presence known. From the looks of things, he seemed to pretty new to this type of crowd. While he may have been experienced in some areas, he was obviously unnerved by the look of John Doe. The man in question, however, took no time in quite literally sliding his way over to the bumbling man, and seemed to know just what it took to make him even more uncomfortable. As the jester talked and hooted, Daniel looked about the room and read the faces of the multiple henchmen, and he began to understand. While all he saw was some loon, there was obviously more to the story. That, with how joyously he had slain one of the men, he realized just what kind of man he was. John Doe was the stuff of nightmares, a killing joke, if you will. He could slice a man's face off with a grin and never bat an eye. Daniel realized then that he had unconsciously settled his left hand on one of his pistols, and took it off as casually as he could. No need to get unnerved himself, right?

[member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="John Doe"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Jaf Diechass"]
The unaccounted-for sounds of conflict from the walls of the warehouse unnerved Jaf, but they paled in comparison to the potential conflict before him. The situation was tough, and volatile for that matter. He cleared his throat, all whilst dodging John Doe's line of sight.

"Your business, your- uh, spice business. I want in."

From his reaction, Jaf didn't know whether Doe was going to shake his hand or shoot his head clean off.
"And by 'in', I just mean.. I'd like to work for you. Sir."

With a tense pause, he froze in fear (which wasn't helped by the sub-zero temperatures of the warehouse). To his surprise, there was a raucous bout of laughter amongst the henchmen and henchwomen alike. The prince of crime himself was beside himself with cackling.

[member="John Doe"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Daniel Imura"]
Janos was walking around the streets trying to avoid any eye contact in the midst of all the chaos around him. Had to run out of credits and was forced to enter this hell hole. Also had to get in the middle of a gang war. Terrific! Just what he needed...spice dealers shooting up other spice dealers. Janos quickly ducked as a stray shot flew above him hitting a poor bystander. He quickly turned and saw what seemed to be a large group of hoodlums surrounding a beggar. He quickly dashed in to help [member="Vorhi Alestrani"]. However, the person seemed to handle himself quite well. As he entered the crowd of mobsters, he saw them pulling out blasters. Haha no. Janos quickly stopped and tried to awkwardly escape the surrounding thugs without any conflict. Hoping not to be noticed, he started whistling and tried to walk out like nothing happened. This would of course not work but still....A for effort?

[member="John Doe"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Daniel Imura"]
John was about to make his decision when the doors to his warehouse flew open and in entered Darth Abyss and his detail.

"Quite the warehouse. It would be a shame if you force me to burn it down. An easy way to avoid that would be to drop to your knees, so I might find a glimpse of mercy somewhere in my hollow chest."

John Doe didn't look fazed or surprised at all. His grin was still in place, fixed and growing steadily more menacing as he theatrically dropped to his knees and began bowing profusely to the Sith Lord.

"Ooooh, don't kill me, please! Take my money, my men, anything you want! Blah, blah, blah. Did you kill the guards at the entrance? They didn't even have life insurance! I hope you're happy with yourself! You've ruined their family's lives! What am I supposed to tell their wives and little ones? You bastard! Bahahaha!"

The crime lord's henchmen kept their weapons level at the Sith and his force. A quiet hissing noise began to emanate from the walls of the warehouse, and under the stairwells, something rattled in a metal cage.

John Doe wiped an imaginary tear from his eye and chortled lightly.

"Am I supposed to know who you are? Wait, wait. Don't tell me. Steve. You look like a Steve. No? I wanna say Larry. That's definitely my second guess."

Waving his hand for his various specialized bodyguards to take defensive positions, Doe made a grandiose gesture towards the door of his warehouse.

"Well, Larry, you certainly know how to make an entrance, although you had to kill it with all the talk of burning down my warehouse and me begging for my life. Me, begging! Bahahaha! I think we met someone funnier than me! Anywho, here's my deal. Turn around and get your happy selves out of my warehouse and I won't have your corpses wrapped in plastic and thrown in a gutter."

The fact that there were multiple Force wielders didn't seem to faze the clown one bit. His warehouse, like the others, had many nasty surprises awaiting unwelcome guests.

[member="Janos"] [member="Jaf Diechass"] [member="Daniel Imura"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Darth Abyss"]
Suddenly the room was filled by laughter, a sound alike hundred different people laughing at once, filtered and distorted to the point where it transformed to not much more than erratic demonic noise. As the man said he clearly had no idea who he was, and what a grave mistake he had just made. His corpse wrapped in plastic? Only a fool would say that. Anyone with a little knowledge of underworld knew who the Prophet was, and they all had heard the myths and legends. Only that in this case the legends were the truth. There was no man inside the strange armor, in fact there was nothing at all below the twisted steel.

"Funny. Now listen clown. I press one button and every bounty hunter on this world will be out for your head. Here on Nar Shaddaa that means an army. Not to speak about my own army that will be called as well."

The man behind Abyss stopped, taking aim at random targets all around the room, while the two sith stood in front of them, ready to use their sabers as a shield should a fight break out. The Sith lord himself continued his slow path, not to get anywhere near the clown but simply for the dramatic effect. He wasn't set on killing the man, bit he was pretty close to making that decision. It wasn't about money, or his dead dealer, it was about establishing a clear hierarchy. His organisation, like a few others, had operated on the moon for years, they had the money, the customers and the contacts to expect respect from the small organisations at the very least. Their word was law on the lawless worlds.

"Task your men to surrender."

The metal being stopped in his path, looking at the henchmen around the clown and lifting his left claw. Even those without the gift would feel as a dark presence lingered over the room, a feeling generally described either as a cold from within or an almost physical level of unease. The most powerful sith mentalist of the current age, or at least the second most powerful behind Lord Yaomo depending who of the two you asked, unleashed the full force of his mind at the eight of the clown's men closet to the upcoming crime lord. The dark side was channelled into a terrifying blast of mental energy, not meant to confuse or manipulate them, but to simply break their will all at once until they would submit to the sith lord's command. Not many could withstand the strength of the Mindeater, the number common man that had been able to resist his will was close to zero. Should they break under the weight of his mind, they would lift their weapons and aim them at their boss.

[member="John Doe"] [member="Janos"] [member="Jaf Diechass"] [member="Daniel Imura"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"]
He felt a slight twinge in his head the moment before the doors were blown open, and Daniel figured on it being a sign that the man in metal has to be a force wielder of sorts. While he didn't know too much on the concept of sensing one's presence, that much at least was clear. So, as the two leaders exchanged words, he found himself already taking a position just to the left of the crime boss, his thunder gun out with his finger on the trigger. As the joking man went through his theatrics, Daniel thought to himself once again at just how unhinged he must be. While appearing comical in nature, it could easily be seen, at least to him, that every action was filled with a sort of malice and trickery. Keeping his eye trained on the Sith holding the mysterious man's flanks, however, he focused on keeping his attention solely on them, rather than the clown prince. He'd fought a few lightsaber wielding opponents before, and typically came out on top, but that was no reason to be cocky. The Sith in the metal suit seemed to have a great deal of faith in these two, as he let them take up his front, ready to block away any kind of fire should it come their way. Then there were the typical lackeys with blasters behind them. A lightbulb went off in Daniel's head. Leaning over to the clown, he spoke in a low voice. "I don't know too much about how these things work, but I do know that a lot of these lackey-types is that money seems to sway often. Maybe you could give them a little incentive." At that, he went back to his spot, and waited. Sure, these 'lackeys' seemed to be actually affiliated with the Sith, and not common street thugs. However, when it came down to money, it was always worth a try.

[member="John Doe"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Janos"] [member="Jaf Diechass"]
The blind monk looked as another man came down, saw guns, and then aimed to get the feth out of dodge. While....whistling conspicuously. As the men tried to shoot at him. Well, that wasn't very sporting. Still, a Distraction would help thin their numbers. Ribbons seemed to fly from his arms as he leapt over the ones drawing their guns, cackling slightly. "Amateur hour, I guess," he mumbled darkly as the scarves fell and entangled the prospective shoots, tightening around faces and limbs. "All tied up and nowhere to go....." He kicked on of the bound goons in face, knocking them over. The other two shot at him, and he had to sidestep quickly. Damnit.

The man with the hidden fist grinned. Three men left, one with his hands tied. He looked to the other two. "We doing this, or should I go get another beer?" The men looked at each other and ran. Whatever this was, it wasn't enough. The one with his and tied also tried to run, as his "leash" was grabbed by the monk. "So, let's have a little chat," Vorhi said, reeling in the hapless goon.

"Who put you up to this stupid little plan? And where is this moron? I want to see if he can at least keep me busy for more than ten minutes...." The blindfolded man made a big show of pouting, "I promise I won't tell him you told me. Admit it, you're scared of him. Scared of what he'd do to you. That's fine. You tell me, you run, I keep his busy while you get out of here. Fun to be had for all, and you get to keep your teeth. So, where's your boss?" His voice was...strangely sweet. This was less an interrogation, and more like a tourist askign directions to a local dessert shop.

[member="John Doe"] [member="Daniel Imura"] [member="Janos"] [member="Jaf Diechass"] [member="Darth Abyss"]
One by one, the clown's thugs aimed their weapons at their boss, a look of horror plastered on their faces. John Doe looked around, a mock look of surprise on his face.

"Boys? You wouldn't hurt Uncle J now, would you?"

He turned back to the metal figure, a sinister smile on his face.

"Oh, I've got their incentive, all right. You might want to hold your breath! Bahahaha!"

The hissing that built up over time in the walls of the warehouse reached a crescendo, and a green gas began to rapidly flood the large room. It was John Doe's signature Happy Gas, and that meant that it was time for all organic beings to either get out or die laughing.

The crime lord began hooting and hollering with laughter as some of his men were hit initially. Their moans of discomfort quickly turned into shrieks of maniacal laughter as they fell to the floor, foaming at the mouth. The deadly mix of laughing gas, nerve agents, and hallucinogens didn't affect him. In fact, the psychotic clown took in several deep breaths, strutting the floor of the warehouse.

"Breath, gentlemen. Deep breaths. In, one, two, out, one, two. Bahahaha!"

Most of his henchmen that hadn't sought high ground immediately were dead, bodies twitching. The hired muscle, the clown expected, were probably more recourseful, and had no doubt managed to escape the toxin. John Doe would hypothesize that the intruder's men were dead as well, with the exception of the Force users, as they could probably use some sort of Force technique to shield themselves from the toxin. That, and the main guy was literally a walking piece of metal.

"You thought you could come into my house and do what you please? Oh, no, no, no! You got another thing heading your way, you piece of Force-imbued scrap! Hahahaha!"

[member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Daniel Imura"] [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Janos"] [member="Jaf Diechass"]

(OOC: Link to Happy Gas-
"How impressive."

Not even the Prophet's twisted, unnatural voice could mask the sarcasm in his tone as the gas began to kill of the goons inside the room. While the members of the Tainted Legion quickly succumbed to the toxic substance, laughing and dying at the same time, his apprentices and the members of the inner eye still stood. The sithr could clean their system with the force, and the former elite agents of the One Sith didn't were killed so easily. At the first sign of the gas they reached for their rebreathers, allowing them to continue their live a little longer. With a motion of his hand Abyss signaled one of them to make his threat become true. Just a few moments later his A.I. and second in command Glory notified the sith lord over comm, informing him that his typical contingency plan had been set in motion. It would soon be over for the clown and his men, even if he didn't understood that just yet.

"Bounty is live, and the Legion was notified of your request. ETA Five minutes. Glory out."

The metal husk continued to walk towards the clown, slow and menacing, utterly unaffected by the chemical weapon used on him. He had offered a chance out, he would've been satisfied with letting the man run his business as long as he accepted the ground rules of the underworld. There would've even been the chance that his organisation would've profited from the blessing of the Prophet. Now he would truly only leave ash behind.

"Do you worst clown, until now this has been little more than a waste of my precious time."

He lifted his left hand once more, the claw this time aimed at the clown himself. In the background his handful of surviving troops reorganized, his sith again forming a shield in front of his elite soldiers, which proceeded to switch out their heavy rifles with the sniper rifles on their backs. They began targeting whoever they could still see standing, yet they waited for their enemies to attack so they could get clean shoots.

Then Abyss power crashed into the mind of the clown, the same darkness he had summoned to control the man's goons now piercing into his head with full force. Other than before he didn't sought control, instead he called for his most deranged and most destructive ability, the one that granted him the title of Mindeater. The second the clown's mental defense would break in case he didn't possessed the knowledge of how to keep very powerful minds out, techniques rare but possible, his mind would become scattered, memories, feelings and thoughts twisted and misplaced until the identity, history and reality of his victim was shattered, sometimes just for a few moments, but quite often forever.

[member="John Doe"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Daniel Imura"]b [member="Janos"] [member="Jaf Diechass"]
"Rebreathers? Hahaha! The gas doesn't like those! It just gets under their skin..."

The former elite agents would soon find themselves twitching and chuckling as well alongside their comrades.

"You gotta love Happy Gas! It gets everyone laughing! Bahaha!"

Due to the toxin's nerve agent makeup, gas masks and rebreathers did nothing to prevent the Happy Gas from infecting them. The gas just sought an easier, bigger path into the body: the skin. The men switching to snipers would find themselves chuckling, then howling hysterically in their rebreathers, and they too would join the body count.

"It's a pity you cheating Force users had to be around. Note to self: come up with a way to kill Jedi and Sith with laughter...Saturday night comedy, perhaps? Hahahaha!"

True to his word, there was no way to stop the Sith from purifying the toxin from their bodies.

Then the walking piece of metal-Larry, John thought his name was-attempted to get inside his mind.

Big mistake.

"Oooh. Oooh, that's cold, like-like a brainfreeze, or something. Ouch. Wow. Are you trying to get in my mind, Larry? It's not gonna work, and let me tell you why: I'm insane! Bat-shit crazy! Bahahahahaha! That's right! Certified and everything! Ooh, you're getting some repressed memories there. No, I'm serious! Grandma? Is that you? Hahahaha! Oh, before I forget: all of you on my side that are still alive, let 'em have it!"

It seemed that the clown's mental defense was being crazy, or his, uh, 'unique' perspective on life. Thus, he was extremely resistant, dare say, invincible, against all mental attacks and commands, including Force-based ones. His remaining men were opening fire on Larry and the Sith, and John hoped that his hired muscle would overlook the fact that he almost killed them all and join in the fray as well. Meanwhile, the clown was running to a secure room, but not before hitting a button on a wall. The Force only knew what that would do...

[member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] [member="Daniel Imura"] [member="Janos"] [member="Jaf Diechass"]
Causstik sat atop his private pleasure barge, which had recently been given to him by the one and only Prophet. Twi’lek slaves danced atop tables and Trandoshan warriors gathered round to watch. The lights inside the pleasure barge had been dimmed, and stiff hides had been placed all over it. A bit of the Trandoshans personal touch. The Trandoshan named Causstik Rahn sat at the helm of the ship smoking a cigar.

He took another puff and exhaled the sweet fumes between serrated teeth. His holo-comm began to ring and the T’dosch withdrew it from his belt. A tall holographic woman appeared and she bowed to the war chief.

“The Prophet is in need of your expertise, i’ll send you the coordinates shortly,” Causstik stared at the holograph and nodded in assent.

“Thanks Glory, i’ll be rioght there,” he ended the call and soon coordinates were sent to his armor’s HUD.

Causstik put out his cigar and flicked it over the edge of the ship. He took hold of the helm and began to steer the ship towards their destination. It wasn't long before they arrived at the warehouse. The ship hovered idly above the building and Causstik’s Trandoshans gathered on the deck.

“We got us an upstart in there! Refuses to bend to the will o’ the prophet! Let’s go show ‘im why that’s a bad idea!” Causstik roared and the crowd of Trandoshan’s flung their guns in the air shouting wickedly of all the terrible things they’d do.

The Trandohsans flung smoke grenades through the windows of the building and fired the deck guns harpoons into the warehouse.

“Forward! Leave none alive!” Causstik roared and the T’dosch repelled through the windows.

[member="John Doe"] [member="Darth Abyss"]
Instead of even wasting his time with the goons of the clown Abyss simply disappeared from sight, from one moment to another. [member="Causstik Rahn"] and his soldiers, as well as his own Tainted Legion that was closing in on the warehouse, would make quick work of them, not by by superior arms or training, but by sheer superiority in numbers. The legion was not only his own army, but the defense force of his worlds, and large enough to not just serve in the underworld, but at war. He didn't expected [member="John Doe"] to have enough backup at hand to stand against something like that. A disembodied laugh echoed through the room, as the unseen figure followed his opponent.

While chaos broke out in the warehouse, the first legion members storming in from the outside guns blazing, the metal sith lord silently walked towards the door that the clown had disappeared behind.

A secure door, what was this? A joke? An insult?

From the shadows Abyss returned to sight, the red lightsaber jumping to life again in his right as the cloak around him fell apart. The crimson blade pierced into the door, slowly cutting a hole into it, while waiting for what the man's next trick.

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