Private The Mailor Heist

[Her]

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Lianna, Outer Rim Territories;
Lianna City, Halquarn District;
Imperial Space.
Tags: CT-312 | Viers Connory | Tarre Priest

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In the hellscape that was Shoengen, as the Imperial Confederation invaded the Thandon Star Cluster, and the Sith occupied worlds within the nebulae, a heist occurred.

They called it "The Mailor Heist" and the DeathDrop were set to deliver their payload in kind.

In the Halquaran District, located in Lianna City, a rendezvous point had been arranged for the delivery of stolen Zinsian and Hfredium. As traffic flowed overhead in an iron cast sky overlooking a world set to enter into dystopia, a loading dock with a designated landing zone (communicated through burst transmissions sent to CT-312 's team) had been arranged for them to deliver the stolen goods. The woman set to collect and exchange payment with the mercs en route stood on the edges of the dock with her gaze following the flow of flying cars and larger craft coming or going through the city while imagining what would come next after Brosi.

Her had allotted no more than twenty-two minutes for this meeting, and so these people- who had picked up the job after it had been posted anonymously through her contacts in the Krykna Mafia- had better be here in a timely fashion...

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[CT-312]

//: Her //:
//: Halquaran District, Lianna City //:
//: Attire //:
//: Bounty - The Mailor Heist //:

The haul from Brosi was secured. Zinsian sealed in its reinforced containers and the Hfredium clamped down in its crates. CT-312 had already sent a transmission out to the anonymous poster behind The Mailor Heist. BARCA received streams of compressed burst packets. Notifying the Scout of coordinates, authentications, and instructions. All pointed toward the Outer Rim Territories. Specifically: Lianna City, Halquaran District.

As the ship broke through the atmosphere, the ship navigated through the streams of speeders cutting across the sky in layered traffic lanes. City towers loomed jagged and dark. Inside the ship’s hold, CT-312 moved with methodical precision. Double checking. Hands tugging on the straps and clamps. Confirming the payload was secured onto the War-X and Pred-X quadrupedal battle droids. Heavy frames thudded against the metal deck with each shift of weight. The battle droids were an added insurance. If this rendezvous turned into a warzone.

Arriving at the Halquaran District, the ship’s repulsors fired. Slowing its descent. The designated dock was a duracrete slab jutting out from one of the structure’s sides. Hydraulic struts lowered as the ship’s ramp hissed open. With mag-boots activated, a dull clack as they locked onto the metal, CT-312 began walking down the opening ramp. Stepping out into the open.

Her visor swept the docking bay area. Spotting a figure. Waiting. Their silhouette outlined in the passing headlights from the sky lanes above. Just as the transmission described. They had a short window. In and out. Fast. Efficient. Just how CT-312 preferred it.

The mag-boots deactivated as the Scout jumped down before the ship even fully docked onto the landing struts. Each step was calculated as her hand brushed against the stock of her rifle that slung low at her side. Gaze locked on the waiting figure as she made her way towards them. CT-312 needed confirmation first. Payload after. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries. Giving a short nod of acknowledgment. A single word left the helmet’s modulator, flat and kind of monotone “Mailor.” A short confirmation of the bounty’s name.