Raiding the Cartel

[Léon]

CLOUD CITY, BESPIN

Situation Report:
Twelve days ago at 0300, the Ison Cartel stole from an excavation crew a shipment of cortosis with the delivery designated to Warren Century, a scientist with ties in various small businesses of his own design. Warren has employed the Carrion Company to recover the stolen shipment and deliver it back into the hands of the excavation crew who wait on the upper levels of Cloud City.

Léon is the commanding officer on this mission. A modulated translator has been attached to his collar to allow for easier communication. Léon will be leading a task force into Port Town and infiltrating a known Ison Cartel warehouse where the cortosis is suspected. Due to the black market price of cortosis, and it's theft only been recent, expect heavy resistance from Cartel opposition.

Good luck,
Feeran Ji'kar

Port Town smelt of sewer and bad deeds. The decay of lives wasted. Bright neon lights forced the unfamiliar Keshiri to shield his vision, and the miasma of death sticks watered his eyes. The sector was located on levels 121 to 160 on Cloud City, and was notoriously known to be home to smugglers, criminals and outlaws.

Something with long horns and nose tusks brushed past Léon, his fiery gaze watching the alien maneuver through the crowd. The orange-brown skinned Elomin quickly vanished into the throng just as quickly as he had appeared. Léon had never experienced such a truly diverse range of species in his life, he had met humans but they had been rare back on Kesh. Now, humans outnumbered any species ten to one. He saw them everywhere. They were the norm.

Yet it was the aliens that stuck out most to him, the Weequays and Niktos, the Herglics and Verpines, Rodians and Trandoshans. The unfamiliar fascinated him, and while he appeared near-human he himself was unfamiliar. He wore a green cotton tunic and black trousers, a thick leather belt held up the loose pants. His knee-length grey boots were polished and new, and the latest fashion on Kesh. His forehead was tattooed black, his skin a bright purple. A sword was slung in a sheathe from his hip, beside a dagger made of bone.

The warehouse belonging to the Ison Cartel was two blocks down from his location, across from him was a cafe. He squirmed through the crowd until he made it across the street, trying to be as polite as possible while unable to speak and apologize in Galactic Basic. A table was empty and he took the nearest chair, waiting for the others contracted for this mission to arrive.

____________________________________​

| Carrion Company |
[member="Arlan Zy'rosh"] - [member="Janev Noska"]
[member="Yngvarr of Alkheim"] - [member="Morr Zard"]

| Contractor |
[member="Warren Century"]

 

[Arlan Zy'rosh]

Arlan remained in orbit, still worn-out from his last mission and a bit curious to see how Leon fared as a leader. This was the Keshiri's show now and Arlan merely a spectator, having just requested the details from Feeran himself. From what Arlan understood Leon intended to raid a local cartel group for the stolen Cortosis, something not easily done by any means. For him to succeed he would need to progress gradually and only act when the opportune moment arose, but knowing Leon's instincts that didn't seem like a problem of any import. No, Arlan was sure he could handle this alone if he had to. That was not the case thankfully, since many members of the company were en-route to his location to provide support. For now Arlan would wait, monitoring any outgoing transmission and news-feeds, and asses the situation from orbit. Truth be told at this point Arlan was just taking a break from the action, reluctant to return to headquarters for fear of the paperwork awaiting him. No, watching Leon in action would be far more entertaining than listening to Feeran drone on about upkeep and repair costs.

"Soldier!" Arlan barked out and he leaned back in his commander's seat. "Keep all communication feeds open. Nothing goes off that planet without passing through us first."

"Yes sir!" The soldier responded and began punching commands into his console.

"Alright Leon, lets see what you've got." Arlan smirked, taking a long drag from his cigar.

[member="Léon"]

 

[krommerfox]

Janev was flying aboard his ship, a modified VCX-100 light freighter. He was about to reach his destination, but a guard ship roared ahead. Was that Arlan? Of course. There he was. Hopefully he wouldn't blow Janev to bits.

He peacefully approached Arlan's ship.

"It's me, Janev!" He shouted into his comlink.

 

[Léon]

A waiter approached him thrice in the half hour he waited. She was insisting he leave as he had not ordered, but he didn't understand what she was saying. The translator he had on him was switched off, and he was waiting for one of the Carrion mercenaries to show him how to turn it on. It was then a towering eight foot tall alien ambled over to him, surrounded by a small gathering of Rodians, Grans, Sullustans and Bothans, all of them moderately armed. The large alien, a Besalisk, was armed to the teeth, and his four arms each held a blaster rifle.

His wattle inflated as he spoke, and he dipped his bony headcrest in greeting. Léon nodded in turn and handed over the translator to a Gran, the goat-like creature quickly switched it on. The translation was fed into his 'earpiece' as one of them called it, while the translator would loudly declare anything Léon said. As the Gran handed back the translator, he gave him a small device and a sword. It was no ordinary sword, as far as Léon could tell. The Gran said to him, "Personal energy shield and vibrosword - the boss told me you aren't good with blasters and vibroswords leaves you open for target practice, but the shield should keep you safe from blasterfire. Attach the device to your belt."

Léon did as instructed, he felt a bit childish doing so. He had no real grasp or concept of the galaxy he found himself in, and he felt like every second he spent away from Kesh was another minute drowning in despair. So much to learn. Too much. He rose from the chair and moved for the streets, his retinue followed beside him. As he spoke Keshiri, the translator barked out in Galactic Basic, "There's a warehouse not far from him. Suspected heavy resistance. Possible further Comany assistance on standby if things go murde." Léon frowned and turned his head to the translator, it hadn't translated the last word. Not as perfect as he had been told.

They were closing in on the warehouse, the streets quickly emptied of civilians. No one stepped foot around Corridor Cartel territory. A small gang of thugs were guarding the wide set doors. They turned their heads, and Léon ordered his group to fan out...

 

[Léon]

"Kark!" Er Qis'o roared, "Where's the boss?" He craned his head from out of cover but quickly brought it back when the durasteel column was turned into a molten slag. The Besalisk shouldered over for more room but the two Bothans weren't budging, trying to keep their large heads down. The three of them were on the other side of the warehouse, from their vantage point they could see the Gran lying face-down on the cold ferrocrete floor. His blaster was burnt to a crisp and his hand was missing, as was his lower torso. Blaster took out his hand, thermal detonator did the rest.

As with any combat situation, it all went to hell in a manner of seconds. They didn't have the catch on the Cartel and the only way they were going to deal with them was head-on. The Carrion Company was nonetheless holding their own. Er could feel his wattle rapidly inflate and deflate, he stepped out from cover and opened fire with all four blasters, shredding a handful of Cartel goons who were caught in the fire. Just as quickly as he opened up, he was hiding behind cover again.

"He was over there a moment ago!" one of the twin Bothans shouted back, pointing beyond the three Rodians and five Sullustans who were meddling with a deadly and explosive concoction, then their arms flung up and threw their payload over the crates. The blaster fire stopped, shuffling feet was heard and silent under-the-breath curses. Then an explosion that rocked the entire building. Body parts suddenly rained down over their heads. Thank the Force none of them had purple skin. Their CO was still alive, or lying dead on the ground elsewhere. He looked where the Bothan pointed but saw no one.

It had only been five minutes since they assaulted the warehouse, and the longer it lasted the worse it was getting.

 

[Léon]

Jeq Krass wasn't just your typical gun-for-hire Rodian, he was also a pyromaniac and a demolition specialist. The same could be said for the Sullustans and two other Rodians that were taking cover with him. Though Jeq was professional trained in the field, the others just liked explosions. Large jet black eyes turned to him with glee, the ugly tucked-in cheeks curved into something akin of a smile. "Did you see that?" he said, then the bodies parts came crashing down over their heads.

A dismembered leg pelted Jeq in the face, he flinched back and shouted off a string of curses and utterances. "I karkin' felt it!" he said back angrily. They seemed to be enjoying themselves like it was a game, and sure Jeq enjoyed the explosion, but he wasn't enjoying being in mortal danger and having body parts whack him in the head.

It all went downhill when their CO ordered them to fan out. He wasn't up to date on Galactic tactics, and Jeq wondered if the kid had forgotten that blasters existed for a second. Maybe back on Kesh fanning out in front of the enemy worked, because you couldn't do kark until you engaged in melee, but once they fanned out, that is when the blaster fire came in. They were spread apart enough, and cover was ample, but it still took out the Gran quicker than he cared to recall.

Their CO moved in faster than Jeq thought the purple man could. His vibrosword cleaved the guards in two, threes and fours. Once they were inside, the blaster fire was worse. Alarms sounded. Some Cartel boss called Shorty was over-seeing the defense. The Gran took a hit to the hand, then a thermal detonator exploded near his feet. Tossed his body ten feet high. Their CO ordered the Besalisk and Bothans to find the Cortosis while Jeq and the others provided support for them, then their CO had disappeared. It was closing in on ten minutes and they still hadn't seen him, and he wasn't answering his comms.

 

[Léon]

Léon weaved in-between cover. His vibrosword dragged behind him. He was keeping his head down and making sure he was out of sight. He felt an explosion rattle his teeth, and he was forced to dodge a head that was catapulted across the warehouse. He kept hearing one of the Carrion fellows barking through the communicator, but he didn't know how to respond. He pressed a button, what he assumed to allow him to communicate back, but it seemed to only mute him. He initially tried to remedy it but when a thug approached him he had no time to waste. He would worry about the line of communication later.

He was now moving for a staircase, keeping quiet and his presence unknown. He turned his head back to the fighting and could see the thugs closing in on the Carrion Company mercenaries, trapped behind crates and speeders. He had to act fast, and act now. He raced up the stairs, his feet thunderous and echoed. All attention turned to him. His personal shield flared crimson then white-hot. It flickered, faltered and then collapsed under intense fire. Just as it did, he reached the top of the stairwell, now hidden behind a wall. A command box that was situated at the far end of the warehouse, looking over everything within.

A green-skinned female Twi'lek was within, Shorty Sharn she went by. One of the four crime lords running the Corridor Cartel. His orange gaze swept over her, then quickly darted to the window. The Carrions had seized the moment and shot at the backs of the thugs, they were now advancing towards the far end of the warehouse. The Besalisk was taking the lead with his immense strides and his four blasters, the others followed meekly behind him. One of the Bothans were clutching a wound, and the Gran was not with them.

Shorty spoke up, "You have the advantage now, hon, but my boys are coming in their hundreds. This whole district will be crawling with Cartel soon enough. You ought to leave while you still can." She reached for her hip and withdrew a stun baton and a vibroknife. The translation fed into his ear, but he had no words for her. He was told what he needed to do. This was combat, not politics. He moved with cat-like reflexes, the vibrosword grip spinning in his palm, he swung around, he anticipated the block from her vibroknife, but he didn't anticipate the electric shock from the blunt weapon she had. He thought it was a club.

He went down screaming.

 

[Léon]

"There he is," Er Qis'o announced, jumping out of cover and making a charge. His blasters opened up on the turned backs of the thugs. They went down, dropping like flies, as the saying goes. The man he mean't was their Keshiri CO. He was on the far side of the room sprinting up the staircase. His CO's shield was failing, and then just a moment before vanishing upstairs, his shield cracked and collapsed. He felt his heart bursting out of his chest in the anticipation of the man dying. Not that he enjoyed that anticipation, it was dread and fear. He would get a scolding when he turned back to base. Then he heard the Keshiri screaming.

"Go, go, go!" he roared. The Bothans were charging beside him now, and the Rodians and Sullustans were quickly on his tail. Some small furry Bimm got in his way and he bowled him over, his immense feet stomping on the creature and taking him out of the game permanently. The howling whine of ion drives disturbed his senses, a commotion erupted at the entrance of the warehouse. More cartel. They were swarming through the entryway. "On our six! Take cover!" he ordered as second-in-command.

 

[Léon]

Jeq was in the thick of it now. Just as soon as they had the advantage, they lost it. Now they were pressed up against a wall with nowhere to go. He peered up with his multifaceted eyes, studying the room above their heads. He saw his CO assault the crime lord, but he was quickly downed with the stun baton. His screaming bouncing off the walls. His attention was back on the entrance, cartel thugs of every stripe and color were flooding into the warehouse. Cortosis was impossibly rare and expensive, and the Cartel deemed it theirs. Those goons would rather die than live to tell their bosses they failed to protect the mineral.

They were behind cover again and Jeq was fumbling to find the right explosives for the job at hand. Something with maximum shrapnel to take as many of those out, without being a danger to the rest of the Carrion Company that was on-site. He had the demo bag in his lap, the others pouring their eyes over the goods. They looked thirsty, perhaps a bit too pyromaniac for his taste, but he still loved a good damn explosion, and plenty of fire. He swept his eyes across the room once more, surveying his surroundings, his eyes caught something on the roof above his head. Sparks were falling down. "What th-" he muttered but cut too short. The roof collapsed.

 

[Léon]

Waves of nausea-inducing pain jolted through his body with each successive strike of the stun baton. He tried to roll away, but he was caught with a swift kick to his abdomen, he gasped for air and coughed. His body was wracked with agony as the Twi'lek tortured him rather than killing him. She was playing with her dinner. She knew she had won, the Cartel reinforcements were here.

A distant crash distracted her briefly, but long enough for Léon to gain his footing. His hands searched for his vibrosword but she had kicked it down the stairs, and if he went down there to get it he would become swiss cheese. Her attention was back on him, she brought the baton around, he leapt out of the way. He danced around her, trying to evade each strike while he fumbled to unsheathe his sword.

The scrape of metal and leather followed, and his blade was set free. The familiar weight bounced from hand to hand as he studied his opponent further. He now knew not to trust the 'club' so easily, whatever qualities it had, it was definitely painful and could take him down easily. He had to be cautious. Out the window the Bespin Wing Guard were coming down from the rafters after blowing a hole in the roof. The Besalisk and Bothans were rushing to their aid, not yet realizing they were in actuality trying to dig out their friends from the rubble while the Wing Guard dealt with the cartel.

Shorty Sharn lunged with the knife, he pulled aside, spun on his heels and swung the hand-and-a-half longsword with all his weight and strength behind him. It came around in a long arc and cleaved through her midsection, burying itself in her spinal cord. She went limp instantly and collapsed. He almost fell over with her but let go of the hilt, stumbling to catch his feet. He caught his breath for a moment, not that he was exhausted by the stun baton had done a number on him.

He searched her corpse, taking a datachip from her back pocket. He gathered her stun baton and slapped the only button, turning it off. He attached it to his belt, along with the vibroknife. He moved for the window and peered out, the Besalisk, Er Qis'o, was moving rubble with the great strength of his species as the Bothans tried to pull out the barely-alive Jeq Krassum. The Bespin Wing Guard had the Cartel running, fleeing back into the decrepit holes from which they came from.

Léon took the stairs down, his body suffering from dark purple welts across his skin, barely visible. His nose was visibly broken, but the adrenaline shielded him from most of the pain for now. It felt like it had happened all too quickly. He joined up with the Besalisk who had already removed the debris, a Sullustans and the two other Rodians were dead from the collapsed section of roof, but the others were alive. Jeq had taken most of the force, his legs and arms were misshapen, the others only had minor cuts and bruises.

Three casualties and a handful of injured. Could have been worse, first assignment, can't speak basic, lack of understanding of technology up against heavy resistance while commanding a minor force. It could have been much worse. "The Force is watching over you, sir," Er Qis'o said as he slapped a meaty hand on Léons shoulder. A Bothan approached him, handing over a datapad, a message had been sent to [member="Warren Century"], 'Contract Complete - Cortosis Retrieval.' The other Bothan was handling a crate, he had cracked it open. The goods were inside. The Wing Guard came over to ask questions while the other guards swept aside the dead and injured.

[member="Arlan Zy'rosh"]

 

[Warren Century]

A drop ship would arrive, and out of it would come Warren Century carrying a briefcase full of credits. "Job well done. You certainly did it much more efficiently than I hoped. The next time I need a squad of highly skilled soldiers to get some work done, I know who to rely on. You've earned a position as a permanent contractor for me, meaning if I need work like this done again, I'll go to your company first." Warren then had them load the Cortosis into his ship, and handed over the credits once the job was successfully completed. Now that he had what he needed, Warren could be off. For he had a lot of work to do with the Cortosis in order to complete technology he planned to have finished soon. "Just one more thing. Tell no one you worked for me on this snatch and grab. I dislike people knowing it was easy as pie to rob my supplies of Cortosis or other lightsaber resistant materials. It's a problem I'll need addressed soon. I may end up putting a bounty on the Cartel."