Brendan Varko
Character
B R E N D A N
V A R K O
OOC INFO: Taking place in the Smuggler's Moon Nar Shaddaa, Harlan Vesper, an Imperial Defector and an asset who was held in Shadow Town jail, has been kidnapped by a Black Sun Cell for producing high quality Engspice for them. Harlan was a former peer of Brendan in Surgical Corps. Brendan's objective is to safely retrieve Harlan and secure him.
Imperial Intelligence
Bureau of Operations (Infiltration Division)
Agent 502
LOCATION: Nar Shaddaa
OBJECTIVE: RETRIEVE HARLAN VESPER
STATUS: O P E N | OPERATING
GEAR:
RK-3 BLASTER PISTOL
SPUN DURASTEEL GARROTE
3 PAIRS OF PLASTEEL BINDINGS
SMALL MEDPAC - BACTA STIMS 3x
SYNTHSKIN SPRAY.
STANDARD ISSUE SLICING KIT.
OUTFIT:
BLACK ZEYD CLOTH DUSTER
FULL ARMORWEAVE COMPRESSION SUIT (CONCEALED BENEATH DUSTER)
"Agent 502, report. Analyst Kohls has something to say."
Watcher 4 says in a clipped tone.
"Agent 502 reporting, sir"
Brendan replies.
"I've arrived at Mezenti Spaceport, Watcher. What does Analyst Kohls have to say?"
"Analyst Kohls just flagged a biometric match for Harlan at the Meltdown Cafe. Footage shows that Harlan is being moved via repulsor stretcher. What is your assessment, Agent?"
"They must have been sloppy while removing the Cranial implant. He's possibly suffering from neural lag, and their operations won't start immediately. That means we have time."
"This just increases the window of opportunity for us. But don't get complacent, agent. You need to move fast. Like I have said earlier, do not sympathize with Harlan just because he is a peer. If you do, I'll make sure the only thing you'd ever look at again is the inside of a concrete cell.."
"Understood, Watcher. I won't sympathize with Harlan."
"Good. Head to the Corellian Sector. Watcher out."
The transmission ends.
Brendan glides forwards through the Mezenti Spaceport, observing the greebles, the exposed wiring and the soot-stained landing pads as he approaches the plaza...
He adjusts the cuff of his duster, his eyes sweeping the crowd of the plaza as he steps out of the sterile environment of the spaceport into the chaotic main concourse.
The smell transitioned to ozone and cheap coolant, the sky was a bruises purple, choked by all of the billion neon advertisements that flicker in a chaotic rhythm.
Brendan steps onto the Taxi platform, the wind from the passing speeder traffic whipping at the collar of his duster. He didn't pause to take a look at the ecumenopolis.
He approaches the Taxi droid, without deflection in his voice, he says
"Corellian Sector. Priority transit."
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