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Faction Streets of Denon: A Day in the Strife


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D E N O N
Tombs Station | The Midnight Zone
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[ clann - i hold you ]​
Opening the tap, the Squib let a trickle of water spill from out of the line.

Then he held a cup in the stream, shutting the tap and holding up the sample that he'd taken. Dropping his goggles down over his eyes, the fox-like alien let the onboard scanners run a mineral analysis of the contents. Then he tossed the water out, setting the cup down as he crouched low and pulled out a small datapad and began jotting down his observations.

The Amavikka had been surviving down in these old tunnels for a while, but it was clear that much of the existing infrastructure needed work. And with the additional population from Darkwire, they were at critical mass for potable water storage. Let alone distillation. They'd need at least one additional water purification plant online if they were going to hide down here for another week. And the forecast was that they'd need longer than that.

Which made water treatment, safe storage, and delivery key priorities. Without each of those, they were never going to make it more than a few more days -- Darkwire or the Amavikka. Tensions were high enough between the two groups. The last thing they needed was something like this to set it all off.

But the Squib was standing in what must have been an old pump room, probably dating back to four hundred years before the Four Hundred Years Darkness. Even if he could get any of them operational, which he doubted, the amount of corrosion would make it to where they might as well have been drinking lead.

There was a slight chirp.

A com signal coming through. One of the Amavikka in Trader's Row had some of the old Corellia Digital HoloBoys. Undie had been able to rig those into a sort of encrypted comlink and had been passing them around as he completed them, with the hope that CorpSec wouldn't detect the activity for the thickness of the walls. Which, also made signal interference a Hutt, but with the tunnels sprawling out from the old Tombs station, it was the best means they had of communication at the moment.

Swiping right on the face plate, the Squib held the link in his hand as he answered, "Go."

A burst of static greeted him. "...need... attention... slab..."

Those were the only three words he could pick out of the garbled mess.

"I heard Slab," Ree stated, though he imagined reception going out was no better than the reception coming in. "On my way."

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The Slab was the name for a sort of cantina that existed.

The Tombs were an old network of subterranean transport tunnels that time forgot about. Talking not even repulsorlift technology, there were metal tracks that links passenger container-style conveyances had been wheeled across using primitive locomotion.

Archaeologists would have loved this shit. And probably cursed the Amavikka for what they were doing with it, which was making the best of a shitty situation.

In any case, The Slab was about as central of a meeting place as there was. And given that it had both food and drink, had become critically important as both the Amavikka and Darkwire collapsed in on one another with the lock down of Seven Corners -- quite literally right over their heads.

The problem was, no one had expected to have a population this size living in the Tombs. Especially not for any length of time. Let alone any length of time without fresh supplies coming in and out.

Right now, The Slab was filled to capacity. With a line wrapping around it of people hoping for something to eat that might have rivaled the line to get into the hottest club on Coruscant.

"Feth," Ree uttered under his breath.

"The kitchen's all but out of food. We can't keep up with this demand," one of the Amavikka was telling the Squib, motioning to where they'd set up a few squat box-like devices. "The food carts in Trader's Row have already exhausted all their supplies. Without food synthesizers, we're in a bad way right now."

Pulling out a multitool, the Squib popped the panel off the back of the first one. Peering around inside for a moment, Ree noted, "Protein synthesizer's shot on this one." Moving over to the other, he repeated the same. "C-board's fused, and that power relay is gonna blow if you try and energize the circuits."

Folding his tool away, the Squib straightened back up as he looked up at the taller figure. "We might be able to salvage the one, but it's going to take a lot of hours to get it there. So, that's a tomorrow problem."

It seemed like tomorrow was stacking up to be nothing but problems.

But tomorrow. Not today.

"Do you have a list of what we've got between the kitchen and the food carts?"

He was expecting a datapad. Instead he got handed a scrap of paper.

Actual paper.

As his eyes scanned the hand-scrawled Aurabesh, the Squib could only remark, "Wow. That's... that's not a lot."

They needed to feed a hundred or so people with what amounted to broth and cabbage.

"All right, get me the biggest pots that you can find."

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He didn't know how much longer the water was going to hold out.

He didn't know how they were going to feed any of them tomorrow.

But those were tomorrow's challenges. For today? For today at least, the Squib could offer up a bowl of gluk. Not restaurant quality. In fact, if anyone who'd been a line chef at The Blue Flame knew he was even calling this gluk, they'd probably kick his ass. Hell, this was even more watery than Bampell's Condensed Soups quality, but it was food for today.

Pulling out his link, the Squib dialed Hex Hex . "Hey, pass the word that there's food in The Slab," Ree remarked. As central as it was, they had Amavikka and shadowrunners all throughout the tunnels. Getting the word to them was, well, the challenge and reason why he'd been making comlinks for them. Just not enough of them.

Not enough was kind of the style down here.

"And check on Daiya Daiya if you would. She could probably use a hot meal."

He doubted he need to say the last part, but he was thinking about her.

And, for the time being, passing out bowls of soup meant he wasn't thinking about how utterly karked they all were.


Welcome to the first of what I hope to be a series of vignette-style posts. As Darkwire is as story-focused as it is, sometimes it can be hard to get involved in a thread as they can be quite a commitment of time or focused on a particular setting/plot element. This is intended to be a thread where your character might connect to Darkwire's story with no more than a single post. This is a soup kitchen, people are coming and going. In that vein, you could make a post and exit the thread in the same or make it no more of a commitment than you want it to be. Interact or don't, there's no right answer, which is the point of the thread.

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Dr. Kalecor Hybran

Guest
D
Kal was dying. That was nothing new, he'd been dying for 25 years, but he seemed to be dying faster than usual, as stress, lack of medicine, and what was likely mild starvation was slowly eating away at what little he already had. His current implant suite could keep him going without fresh medicine for some time, but without food, water, and some form of rest, he'd be dead in less than three days. With the flight deeper into the Tombs, Kal had been working overtime on his overtime, trying to provide as much care as he could to both Shadowrunners and the Amavikka, but after days of blind scrambling, he was low on everything. In a few day's he'd be resorting to washing old bandages in moonshine, and all that would do is prevent the injured from bleeding out, let alone preventing infection.

He needed time away, at least a moment to rest and recuperate, or at least to think about something other than stemming bloodflows and sterilizing scalpels over lighters. Thankfully, word came down the pipe, literally since there was a serious comlink shortage, that food was ready in the Slab, and Kal had already missed breakfast today. He stood, legs audibly creaking under the strain, and shambled out toward the Slab, taking his time to stretch out with each slow, deliberate step.

As he entered the converted boxcar and made his way to the counter, he was hit by the smell of warm soup, which almost masked the usual aroma of the confined space. A familiar looking Squib, Under Foot Under Foot appeared to be on soup detail today, but the miserable look on his face suggested this might be the last day anyone was on soup detail.

"Is today's soup really that bad?"
Kal asked as he came up in line, nodding to the Squib's dour look.
 

Ree couldn't look anyone in the eye.

Passing out bowl after bowl, pressing the hot broth into whatever set of waiting hands came along next. Trying not to dwell on the thought that he was letting them all down.

All that he'd ever done for Darkwire was to have tried to put some extra credits in his own pocket, dancing to the tune of whatever Corpo tax assessor or CorpSec shakedown had come calling, because the only thing he'd cared about had been not losing the family business.

Then the walls had come down on Seven Corners and none of it had mattered. In the end, the Corpos still got whatever they wanted from him, and he was made out to be the bad guy for it.

Daiya Daiya was staying by Cartri Keswoll Cartri Keswoll 's side. Das Das was clearly struggling. And Hex Hex had just been doing everything that she could to put two middle fingers to the Corporate Authorities. They'd all come so far and sacrificed so much for this to have been their reward.

And he'd shown up to try and sell them shield generators.

Now, here he was. Wanted like them. Hiding like them.

He was a fraud.

His chest tightened, his head bowing as the lingering doubt ate at him.

"Is today's soup really that bad?"

Large, blue eyes fluttered open. He had to take a moment to collect himself before he looked up at the face that belonged to the hands that were in front of him. "Oh, hey, Doc," the Squib remarked, picking up another bowl and ladling some of the gluk into it.

"...it's not going to win any taste-test awards," Ree offered dryly.

He wanted to be honest with them, but as his own words echoed in his ears, he was taken aback by them. Honesty didn't require crushing morale. So, he tried to put forth his best Used Speeder Salesman smile as he added,

"But don't worry! I should have the food synthesizers working by tomorrow."

Hopefully.

Besides, tomorrow had enough worries of its own. People needed a night to just worry about today, and let tomorrow wait its turn.

 



Tag:
Location: The Tombs Soup kitchen
Objective: who knows?

Poor Hex hears voices in her head

Hex speech to others
Hex speech to herself


Hexes inner voices
'...Neutral...'
'...Doubt...'
'...Anger...'

Coloured '.....' are also words that Hex can hear , but I decided not to write them to reduce clutter

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Hex was at the soup kitchen, she had heard about this place from Under Foot Under Foot and decided to come take a look, she had let her hair down and it trailed loosely behind her. She wore the bottom half of her Neon Lady suit and a black tank top, it was always warm down here and there was no need to be suited up, but it was handy to have in case she ended up diving through toxic waste again. Her and Das Das had had some fun tinkering with the programming of this suit and while it had taken a while and they had eventually had to feed the nanites different materials to get them to cooperate it looked great on her and it fit lovely. She say nursing a bowl of soup that she had been given by one of the staff here, thinking about her friends as a message from Undie came through, she had better pass it on to Daiya Daiya and Cartri Keswoll Cartri Keswoll .

<<Hey Dai, hope you are holding up, undie has found us food in a soup kitchen, I think he works here now? Anyway, attached the details, come see us.

Miss you
Hex x>>

She sent another similar to Brie Jaxx Brie Jaxx in the hope she would be about too, she had so little knowledge of the situation of her friends.

"Hey! Sapphire! That you?"

Hex's eyes went wide as she heard a codename she hadnt been called since she first escaped coruscant to Denon.

"Chit! It is you, Saphy, where you been? We thought you were dead."

"No, you left me for dead, theres a difference, you didnt bother to check." Hex replied with cold indifference as a zabrak man a few years older than her sat down opposite with a bowl of soup. "What are you doing here Navros?"

"Well, if the slum bunnies ask, i'm poor and starvin, but girl, im recruitin arent i?" he laughed and lit up a death stick, offering one to the blue haired teen who took one almost instinctively despite never touching the stuff usually. She lit it up and inhaled on the spice, it filled her blood and brought back memories.

"So where you been? Denons a dump innit? You must be eighteen now?" he grinned lustfully "Anyone tappin that yet?" he laughed again and looked her up and down "How much?"

'...Just stab him and move on...'

Hex shook her head in disdain for the man and rolled her eyes. "Denon's my home now, innit" she replied mockingly "And no, noone yet, there's this one girl I kinda like, a couple actually..." she grinned, a little suprised as she had not yet admitted the second one even to herself. "But no, nothings going on, just work, same stuff I used to do for you guys, just i get to mean chit to people here."

"Girls huh? Never figured you for that? Maybe I should smoke em both and take you back to my place."

A pink glint crossed Hex's eyes and there was barely time for him to look suprised as her pistol whirred into life and found itself under the man's chin. "I don't give a chit that you and Franso left me for dead, it was business, but you threaten my friends again and I'll blow you larking brains all over the ceiling... got it"

'...Do it, the world will be better without him...'

She hesitated and her hand tensed before relaxing again on the trigger.

The Zabrak smirked and pushed the barrel gently to one side with his fingers "Nice, little Sapphire grew up and got a pair of balls for herself, I'm playing, won't touch your girls unless, well..." he grinned a little challenge at her. Hex shook her head again and put the gun down. "These girls, they know about?" he tapped his finger on his head in order to indicate to her that he remembered her voices.

"Yeah they do, and they think I'm... a-mazing" she laughed and stubbed out the deathstick in the tray. "You know what, I'm done with this, and I'm done with you, there is a guy over there that is half the size but still twice the man you ever were" she laughed in a derisory tone and pointed across to where she knew underfoot was making himself busy.

'...Here it comes!...'

"You know what?" she stood to walk away and raised her voice loudly. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Navros Varn, a small time thug on Coruscant and he has come here to recruit your children into his spice smuggling ring" she looked back at the horrified man as the fear of his predicament became apparent. She grinned at him with the malice of a girl who had lied about her forgiveness. "Enjoy"

 

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Location: Denon, Beyond the Tombs
Objective: Exterminate Vynocks

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Dark, dingy, and wretched…

But on the upside he wasn’t feeling the dark could of bad vibes and negative energy that permeated the surface of Denon. Just about every encumenopolis had that same sort of “charm” to it. But beggars can’t be choosers and the Corpos fit his criteria for the most part as a client base for Cyran.

If the zeltron had his way he would be living entirely off of hunting bounties over violating their bail bonds in court for speeding tickets on some nice vacation destination and drinking expensive cocktails on the beach every evening while watching the sunset. Instead he was stumbling around in the dark inside of the long corridors of a long forgotten transit system fallen into disrepair. All because of some reports of a possible Vynock, a subspecies of Mynock, infestation that is brewing under the surface.

Unfortunately for the bounty hunter the tunnels were in such ruin that the old maps and data provided by CorpSec were no longer very useful, the only helpful thing was showing him an old drainage system for him to use to get into place more easily. Neglect, the groundquake, and walling off certain parts turned the metro into a maze. Not to mention Cyran kept getting the feeling like he wasn’t alone down here. Like someone or something was watching him. But as far as he knew there shouldn’t be anyone around for quite a while. His helmet offered infrared vision, along with an accompanying flashlight of the same Electromagnetic wavelength. Allowing him to see without giving away his location and altering the flying pests of his presence. Since he understood that the creatures he was hunting couldn’t see into the infrared spectrum.

Cyran also knew that the parasites consumed energy and electricity. So they would likely be nesting somewhere that could supply them with such. His 9000 Energy Scanner was the closest thing he had to a compass that could guide him. Part of himself felt like an intrepid explorer doing some urban spelunking. To his surprise there was a considerable amount of energy signatures inside the metro according to his scanner. (This was because The Tombs were far more inhabited than the bounty hunter would’ve known.) Cyran attributed the pockets of energy that he was scanning to be from old reactors that haven't been properly turned off or something of that nature. Just another thing haphazardly abandoned and forgotten about. Not that they were possibly underground settlements, that would be ridiculous, who would wanna live down here anyways?

Then again Cyran has been to the coruscant underworld plenty and there’s countless people living their lives down there. So he shouldn’t entirely think it was impossible for people to live down there. But he did have his scanner calibrated to scan for EM radiation sources, and not communication signals. Another reason as to how he was so blind to how much more populated these tunnels were than they seemed.

Nonetheless Cyran was close to an energy source, one he hypothesized fed a nest or colony of Vynocks. However, it seemed to be in an area he couldn’t get too. Thanks to a collapsed pathway. He kept trying to look for another way around. Stepping into a tight maintenance hall the energy source he was trying to reach was behind an old wall. As much as Cyran wanted to bust through to it, he feared that the ceiling would collapse in on himself. Just as he began to move along there was a slight pressure on his foot as he took a step. Stopping, he looked down to see a small cable had been pulled by his foot, raising an eyebrow he didn’t realize what it was before he was violently thrown back by an explosion. Having accidently activated some sort of makeshift tripwire trap. It wasn’t very advanced, but that just meant it didn’t give off an energy source on his scanner, allowing him to overlook it.

Falling hard onto the floor the bounty hunter's head spun, feeling dizzy as he tried to push himself back up. Groaning from the disorienting pain of an explosion going off next to him like that. Thankfully his armor protected him, though there was still a ringing in his ears. Not too long ago he felt the full force of a flashbang grenade go off while in his hands, which was rather comparable to how he felt right now. Getting himself back up he looked at the damage that was caused, glad that the ceiling had not collapsed on top of him. Peering through the smoke where the explosion went off it created a sizable hole now in the wall. The same wall he wanted to get through earlier.

Perhaps this wasn’t a mistake, and just some happy accident? But if so, why did it need to hurt so badly? Also who would seemingly place a random boobytrap in a place like this? Picking up his IR flashlight stumbling to the new hole in the wall which led into a spacious maintenance room. With a large number of old looking gonk droids. Some of which still seemed to be activated as they waddled around. Which was likely the source of the energy he found. However, most notably was a large number of vynocks flapping around in the room. Disturbed by the sudden ruckus caused by the explosion.

Cyran’s eyes grew wide as he saw the swarm of batlike creatures flying around the room, and there he was standing amongst them. Full of tech and gadgets, a tasty new meal for the energy eating parasites. In an instant the swarm almost in unison drove after Cyran. Trying to feast upon all his cool stuff. He tried to draw his blasters but they were quickly grabbed and pulled around from him by some of the creatures, the others flying around him, their sucker like mouths clamping down on him and his armor to drain away the energy in his equipment. Even though they weren’t hurting him it still freaked out the zeltron. Not to mention if all his gear got destroyed he would have a very hard time getting out of here, and it might become his TOMB!

In a desperate attempt to fight back against the swarming parasites Cyran held out his vambrace where a jet of flames burst forth, filling the room in a hot orangey glow. Waving his wrist mounted flamethrower around to for its flames to wash over scores of the vynocks and burn the little bastards. High pitch screeching filled the room along with as they chaotically flew around like winged fireballs. Bumping into each other and himself, stinging him as their burning bodies collided against his own. The hellish scene made Cyran step back out from the hole in the wall that was created moments before. Rushing out and frantically patting away any and all little flames that began to catch onto his armor. The bounty hunter turned his attention back to the room now turned into an inferno and aimed his arm back to it. Bringing forth another cone of flames to keep any of the creatures from escaping out the way he came in.

Eventually the screeching died down and Cyran made his way back in, to find a bunch of charred vynock corpses laying around the room. Fortunately there wasn’t anything other than them that was flammable. Even the scared gonk droids were largely fine, though with some new scorch marks on their frames now. Moving through the room he checked to make sure they were all dead since there were quite a number of them. Even finding his blaster pistols among the carnage, needing to wipe away some burnt vynock bits of them. Checking the condition of his equipment it was mostly alright since they didn’t get to eat that much of it. But the energy reserves in a lot of his gear had gone down considerably.

Cyran wondered how the vynock even got in here, noticing some of the large ventilation shafts overhead. Could that mean there was more down here, or like many things in this metro, did they get cut off from the rest of Denon, either through erected walls or from damage from the groundquake? Nonetheless Cyran took some pictures as evidence of his job well done, even grabbing one of the corpses of the vynock as physical proof to take back. Stepping back into the tunnels propper just now just needed to find his way back out of here, which should be easier than before when he went through it for the first time. He was just concerned about tripping off any more traps. Which naturally brought up the question, who else was down here making traps, and why? Did they have nothing better to do?
 

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