Shinnan Moreno
Armed and Angry
Just 'cause the damned bizzies thought they had her on a leash didn't mean she couldn't hop the fence now and again so to speak. They'd never been too great at their jobs to start with in her opinion, and now they were wasting resources watching her. It was the most damned basic trick in the book. Well. Kind of. With a twist. Go into a busy washroom, walk out as someone else, leave your tail behind. Of course most folks hide to depend on changing clothes and makeups and hats and the like. Nan literally walked out as someone else. She could do exactly two thing with any consistency. Guide a bullet and change her appearance. Couldn't do both at once but whatever, details.
She had a lead to follow. A contact, a woman she'd helped before when ladies deadbeat son wound up owing money to the wrong sort of people, had given her info on a slave ring. Now, Nan wasn't keen on slavery to start with. She liked her independence and assumed everyone else liked theirs just the same. But these lot were taking it to a new low. They weren't just moving aliens, poor bastards far from home, they were taking Corellian kids. That there just wouldn't stand.
Nan swung by one of her drop points and pulled out the bag she kept there. Pistols went into their holsters, rifle was slung over her back and battered red scarf was looped around her neck. Didn't mean anything to her of course, Nan wasn't the sort of person who'd get hung up on sentimentality and other foolishness like that. You just never knew when you might need a scarf. Now appropriately kitted out, Nan was off and moving. Towards the Blue Sector of course. Where else would they be? CorSec tended to steer clear and if anyone got too nosy or your merchandise didn't make it they could always be disappeared into the Pit, like who knew how many others. Still close enough to the spaceport to make getting in and out pretty easy too.
According to her tip, the slavers were operating out of an old warehouse that was owned by a fashion manufacturer currently in the process of going broke. Eventually it would be sold of to the highest bidder, but for now? Oh there had probably been someone left to keep an eye on it, and they were likely paid a hefty fee to turn those eyes elsewhere. Two pay cheques and none of the work, as long as you didn't have a conscience it was a good deal. Nan spat at that, scowling.
She eyed it out of her peripheral vision, it was all slums here and no one looked at you too closely, especially when you were obviously armed, but it still wouldn't be wise to be seen directly casing out the joint. Front door was just a bad idea, feth that. Carrying on, she turned down the alley beside it. Someone had made a rookie error. A dumpster was sitting under a window. It was a small window, but Nan reckoned she could weasel through it. Might lose a bit of skin, but wasn't anything she'd die from. Not like a lot of the slaves in that building would die if she didn't.
Grim faced, she hauled herself up onto the dumpster after one last look to make sure no one was paying attention, rubbing a bit of the grime off the window she peered in. Couldn't see much, looked like it would let out just across from a catwalk. Be a bit of a stretch to get from window to catwalk but doable. Breaking the window would attract some attention, but some risks had to be taken, besides, if she threw a rock through it, they'd likely just assume it had been kids. The gangs of street kids that ran these streets were right nasty little buggers, she should know,s he'd been one after all. She was just looking down at the ground for a suitable rock or other lump of solid detritus when an idea occurred to her.
She tried the window.
It was not in fact locked. Well I'm a right idjit.
Levering it further open, she peered in once again. A large shipping container or something was blocking her view of almost everything, but this was good, it meant it was also hiding her. The smell was ungodly. Bodily fluids were definitely involved. What followed was an honestly not very graceful but surprisingly quiet (one of the things a scarf was good for was wrapping a rifle or other weapon inclined to clonk) squirming through a window and onto the catwalk. Honestly once she managed to get her chest through it wasn't too bad, luckily she wasn't overly endowed in that department.
Back on her feet, she crept forward, rifle up and ready to fire. She was prepared for the horrors of slavery, steeling herself mentally for what she was about to see. All the same, when she rounded the side of the shipping container and her eyes fell upon the scene that covered the floor of the warehouse, the tip of her rifle dipped.
"What th'absolute skrag.."
Horrors were right, but not of slavery. This had been a massacre a- her eyes found a man, drenched in blood crouched atop another, was still a massacre apparently. Not sure who either man was or what was going on, the rifle snapped back up.
"Oi! Hey you! What's going on down there!"
[member="Thal"]
She had a lead to follow. A contact, a woman she'd helped before when ladies deadbeat son wound up owing money to the wrong sort of people, had given her info on a slave ring. Now, Nan wasn't keen on slavery to start with. She liked her independence and assumed everyone else liked theirs just the same. But these lot were taking it to a new low. They weren't just moving aliens, poor bastards far from home, they were taking Corellian kids. That there just wouldn't stand.
Nan swung by one of her drop points and pulled out the bag she kept there. Pistols went into their holsters, rifle was slung over her back and battered red scarf was looped around her neck. Didn't mean anything to her of course, Nan wasn't the sort of person who'd get hung up on sentimentality and other foolishness like that. You just never knew when you might need a scarf. Now appropriately kitted out, Nan was off and moving. Towards the Blue Sector of course. Where else would they be? CorSec tended to steer clear and if anyone got too nosy or your merchandise didn't make it they could always be disappeared into the Pit, like who knew how many others. Still close enough to the spaceport to make getting in and out pretty easy too.
According to her tip, the slavers were operating out of an old warehouse that was owned by a fashion manufacturer currently in the process of going broke. Eventually it would be sold of to the highest bidder, but for now? Oh there had probably been someone left to keep an eye on it, and they were likely paid a hefty fee to turn those eyes elsewhere. Two pay cheques and none of the work, as long as you didn't have a conscience it was a good deal. Nan spat at that, scowling.
She eyed it out of her peripheral vision, it was all slums here and no one looked at you too closely, especially when you were obviously armed, but it still wouldn't be wise to be seen directly casing out the joint. Front door was just a bad idea, feth that. Carrying on, she turned down the alley beside it. Someone had made a rookie error. A dumpster was sitting under a window. It was a small window, but Nan reckoned she could weasel through it. Might lose a bit of skin, but wasn't anything she'd die from. Not like a lot of the slaves in that building would die if she didn't.
Grim faced, she hauled herself up onto the dumpster after one last look to make sure no one was paying attention, rubbing a bit of the grime off the window she peered in. Couldn't see much, looked like it would let out just across from a catwalk. Be a bit of a stretch to get from window to catwalk but doable. Breaking the window would attract some attention, but some risks had to be taken, besides, if she threw a rock through it, they'd likely just assume it had been kids. The gangs of street kids that ran these streets were right nasty little buggers, she should know,s he'd been one after all. She was just looking down at the ground for a suitable rock or other lump of solid detritus when an idea occurred to her.
She tried the window.
It was not in fact locked. Well I'm a right idjit.
Levering it further open, she peered in once again. A large shipping container or something was blocking her view of almost everything, but this was good, it meant it was also hiding her. The smell was ungodly. Bodily fluids were definitely involved. What followed was an honestly not very graceful but surprisingly quiet (one of the things a scarf was good for was wrapping a rifle or other weapon inclined to clonk) squirming through a window and onto the catwalk. Honestly once she managed to get her chest through it wasn't too bad, luckily she wasn't overly endowed in that department.
Back on her feet, she crept forward, rifle up and ready to fire. She was prepared for the horrors of slavery, steeling herself mentally for what she was about to see. All the same, when she rounded the side of the shipping container and her eyes fell upon the scene that covered the floor of the warehouse, the tip of her rifle dipped.
"What th'absolute skrag.."
Horrors were right, but not of slavery. This had been a massacre a- her eyes found a man, drenched in blood crouched atop another, was still a massacre apparently. Not sure who either man was or what was going on, the rifle snapped back up.
"Oi! Hey you! What's going on down there!"
[member="Thal"]