The Mighty MezNez

[Maris Fero]

The gloom of night had just fallen over Efavan. Starlight was outshone by a billion points of vulgar light blinking from a hundred hotels and casinos, each stretching high in the Vorzyd skyline like dazzling lures eager to snare their share of the visiting masses. To many in the region, the gambling cities of Vorzyd V were a pilgrimage - believers in the cult of Lady Luck.

Blindly, those of means and those of dreams would congregate in these money traps, where second-rate mobsters tried to rival the fabled opulence of Nar Shaddaa. Beneath these titanic feeding pits scuttled another world, deep beneath the pollution layer, where even the lights of the great casinos were snuffed out, unconsidered masses toiled.

Rarely had Maris had good reason to climb so high beyond the slums of her home levels, to watch the rarified spectacle of the ‘normal’ galactic citizens. She had been visited before with Naitin Kaperko - in days when he had been interested in her before she had arranged his removal from the equation.

Tonight was different, tonight was work. And it was a long, long way back down.

-------​

It had been days after Enyo’s arrival when Maris’ network dug up the first piece of exceptionally valuable information. A street gangers father had been let go from his contracted work taking care of personal security for one of the cities high-end Escorts, rough work, nothing special, but the word was she had lost out on revenue from her most lucrative client - Bogo the Hutt. A further investigation with other contacts, including Maris and others personally staking out several of the other high-end call girls and tailing another provided additional evidence of the Hutt’s mysterious absence.

Hutt clan members had gone into hiding before, but for Bogo to ignore his usual urges completely was an inconsistency that intrigued Maris enough to send word to Enyo on the matter. Efforts were redoubled to procure more eyes within the Hutt’s business, busboys and barmaids, bellboys and porters, the little people who were ignored by anyone important enough to matter. Slowly a picture emerged that was undeniable.

Bogo the Hutt had not been seen publicly, in the flesh, for months. Holovids and messages still belched out his greetings, warnings, threats and catchphrases in Casinos and mob meetings, but the Hutt himself was never in attendance

The luxurious MezNez mega-casino, the jewel in Bogo’s crown of criminal enterprise, seemed to become a hive of activity, with the Hutt’s lieutenants, hired muscle and closest cronies going in and out each night - business as usual. Despite the visage of normalcy, more tidbits of news were passed from kids and staff, little crumbs falling through the cracks to where Maris waited.

Krovan Brandy, Mataah-Rats and exorbitantly priced shipments of a greasy pasty caviar called Mau-Nau - each a staple favourite of the Great Bogo, had been piling up in the MezNez store rooms, the shipments eventually suspended. The glutton had apparently lost his appetite.

With the aid of Enyo’s people Melort’s gang ambushed a speeder from the MezNez on its way to a downtown meetup, carrying consignments of credits toward the West Dock spaceport complex, a part payment and a purchase order for hundreds of new weapons to be brought in from off-worlder - a name Maris was sure Enyo recognised. Enough weapons to withstand a siege someone suggested.

-------​

The plan had come together rapidly, a short window of opportunity when evidence pointed to the MezNez being under armed and quite possibly in early stages of a preparations to lock the whole site down tightly.

Security up front was formidable, a show of force and prestige. Armed and armoured guardians were present at the grand entranced to the gambling palace of the great Hutt. Weapons detectors, bio-screening and even bag checks at some of the smaller entrances made a frontal assault or infiltration an exceptionally dangerous proposition.

The serving entrances were also monitored, hanging gangways extended from the secure casino and docked with walkways leading to the lower sections Efavan to allow goods and workers to stream in and out far beyond the eyes of visitors. Faces known to the Cartel passed there more freely and outsiders were inspected thoroughly. Additionally problematic, those entrances only opened at shift changes or deliveries, when security was brought to its highest.

-------​

It was here Maris had suggested a bold plan for entrance. A distraction - a paid off docker, had tipped half of his load over the walkway entrance - caused a commotion which held up the traffic across the dock service entrance. An unseen figure slipped out under the safety barrier lowered herself to hang from the underside structures supporting the exterior walkways, dangling precariously over the drop that would mean her death.

Maris hung in silence within the gloom for a moment, amber strips of light from above casting grid of lines across her alabaster features as she listened to the reverberations of footsteps and machinery that dominated her current situation. She felt the strain in her wrists and shoulders as she held fast, tensing each arm in turn and relaxing the other to ease her wait. Presently she heard the tapping, a code to tell Maris to prepare, and she set off in careful, precise stretches to reach the next handholds along toward the underside of the mechanised gangway to the MezNez store rooms.

Up top a disturbance had started, it sounded like a drunken brawl; Exactly as it was meant to. Maris swings quickened as she weaved toward her goal, feeling the slickness of the machine lubricants coating the grip gloves she wore and making this climb ever more difficult. She paused about a quarter of the way, her breathing sharp and muscles aching.

The whipping draught of chilly air currents chilled her slender frame as the young woman methodically clambered around and switched her grip, so as to end up facing back the way she had come. The chill on her neck caused a shiver down Maris' spine and she swallowed her nervousness, both fear and excitement fueling her path so far.

With a stifled grunt of exertion, her tired arms tightened as Maris pulled herself legs up to find gripping points in the structure and she came to a momentary rest. She relaxed one arm with a soft moan of relief and worked the tension from the muscles, in turn, flexing her fingers in an effort to relieve her aches.

It was fortunate, she mused, that the Hutt’s establishment used standardised equipment on these entries, a year earlier she and another of the Shrikes had tried to make use of a similar maintenance space to enter another gang’s hideout. Maris had made it, the other had not been so fortunate.

She tapped her earpiece Enyo had given her three times to say she was in place. All they had to do now was hope that she was still skinny enough that she wouldn’t get crushed in the mechanism as the gangway retracted, after that letting the awaiting ‘strikeforce’ in would be simple - she hoped.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Her name was Charlotte. Many years ago, she'd been human. Her life had been filled with prospects and she'd graduated university with top scores. Alas, she'd been afflicted with a terrible disease. There was no cure for this malaise, as her doctor had regretfully informed her. With each day that had passed, she'd grown frailer. Behind closed doors, she'd been informed of her right to request a doctor to euthanise her.


Then a blonde-haired, well-dressed angel had walked into her hospital room. The angel had informed her of a way to end her suffering - forever. She would be able to walk again, and breathe without the aid of a breathing apparatus. She would be able to leave the hospital and once more live her life. She need only sign this document and apply for an experimental, but completely voluntary medical procedure. Her body would be strong and she would never have to worry about falling sick.


If only Charlotte had read the fine print. Now she had a body that would never age or get sick - and was a slave. The droid skeleton was covered by layers of liquid metal that enabled her to shift her appearance like a chameleon. Her mind had been adjusted. She could barely remember her past life. Now Charlotte served the angel's spawn, who was on a quest of vengeance to destroy their mutual creator.


Her new nature made her ideally suited for infiltration. The young organic called Maris would brave various hazards to open the gates, so that the strike force could storm the casino and uncover the truth behind the strange machinations at the court of the elusive Hutt, while at the same time forcing the mafia to bend the knee to the Metal Princess.


Charlotte had a slightly different task. Like Enyo Typhos, she was a child of Archangel. A silent ping informed her that Maris was inside. Time to get to work. Security was tight at the casino: Weapons detectors, retinal scanners, bio-screening, metal detectors and extensive security checks would greet any visitor.


Luckily the light, non-magnetic materiel she was made of would raise no alarm bells on the metal detectors. Furthermore, she was wearing the face of a waitress who'd been employed at the casino for several months. The real waitress would never return to her work place.


The casino lived up to its reputation as a den of decadence. Countless patrons tried their luck at slot machines, beseeching the Lady Luck to give them succour and grant them a fortune. They failed to heed the simple truism: 'The house always wins'. There was a fight club a level down, where combatants faced each other in brutal matches that occasionally ended in death.


Holograms displayed ads for various products, ranging from narcotics, liquor, artefacts to sentient beings, or showed the elusive Bogo the Hutt belch out commands, as if he had never vanished from the board. Loud music filled the air, creating a deafening noise. Discreetly, Charlotte poured the contents of a tiny vial into various whiskey glasses.


Balancing a tray filled with drinks, she strut into the great hall. Predictably, her outfit left little to the imagination. At least one thug laid hand upon her considerable derriere. HRDs were not programmed to feel desire, but they understood how to use it to their advantage. Thus several of her blouse's buttons were undone. She made a beeline towards a congregation of thugs. They had the aura of sellswords. "On the house, boys!" she declared brightly to get their attention in a feigned chipper tone, passing drinks around. "The mighty Bogo the Hutt sends his regards."


"Hey there, cutie. Why don't you hang around for a bit?," one of the lieutenants gave her a leecherous look. He was a tall, imposing Chagrian. "Are you just gonna give us free drinks or can I play with you as well?" his hand traced down her back before forcefully pulling her into his lap. He reeked of death, liquor and arrogance.


Charlotte made a good impression of looking awed. "Well, sir...if you can outdrink all these fine lads here...," she let those words hang, batting her eyelashes. Taking a glass herself, she brought it to her lips and sipped, while the gangster's hands roamed over her in an awfully crude manner. Unlike them, she could not get intoxicated. Or be sedated.

xxx


Outside, Enyo waited, having heard Maris' message loud and clear. It was cold, but she barely felt the chill. Her gang of deplorables and cyborgs waited in the shadows, armed to the teeth. Assuming Maris avoided getting crushed, she would open the doors and allow the strike force to enter. Then they would set to work. It all depended on the girl's ability to complete her task. It would also double as a test of her worthiness.


The cyborg suspected that Gogo was no longer among the living - or a vegetable. Either way, the one who appeared on holovids was just an impostor - and probably just a simulation. His mafia would be brought to heel and serve her, willingly or unwillingly. Consent was optional from her perspective.


But what intrigued her the most was confirmation that a figure from her past had his fingers in the lucrative pie that was the underworld of Vorzyd Five. Until recently, Yerevan - 'legitimate businessman', mafia boss and closeted Dark Jedi - had been her patron, providing her with a ship and funds to wage her private war on Archangel. The sleek oil salesman had hoped to cut a competitor down to size without sticking his neck out and thus putting himself at risk. Alas, she no longer needed him.

 

[Maris Fero]

Hanging in the whistling drafts Maris peered down into the gloom below, imagining what it might feel like to fall, and how long her descent might take.

The polluted smog that extinguished all starlight from the lower levels of Efavan was visible some way below her, like a false floor of yellowish grey ash that might arrest her fall, though Maris knew this to be untrue.

Her current attire provided little warmth to make her wait more comfortable, a form-fitting pair of near black leggings and tight crew top kept her outline as small as possible, thin climbing shoes and grip gloves to aid her movement. The young woman's raven-dark hair had been braided and secured beneath a black beanie, her small supply of equipment secured to a thin harness she wore across her chest. Every other item of clothing had been discarded for the climb, anything might well risk getting dragged into the mechanism of the gangway.


It felt as if an age passed as Maris waited in the cold darkness beneath the mechanised bridge that temporarily connected the MezNez to the greater city. Eventually, the sounds of industrious activity coming from above Maris had slowed before ceasing abruptly when she heard the triple bleat of the warning siren, a local signal that the gangways were to be cleared.

Maris strained to keep herself still, making her final precise moves to position herself as tightly against the underside maintenance space as possible. As the platform shuddered out of place she felt her grip slipping - heart pounding in her ears the youth forced her limbs as wide as she dared, doing her best to brace herself in position. Fero closed her eyes as the mechanism retracted and she felt the closeness of the space she occupied and her whole world consisted of the clanking grinding sound of the mechanism.

Too late to stop now.

----​

In the shadows of the surrounding walkways, hidden eyes watched the bridge gangways retract, breath held as they listened for the sound of the screams. Silent, the gangers gripped onto comparatively new and well-maintained weapons, armoured in something closer to real body armour. Ku Melort glanced to her sisters at her side, nerves and anticipation clear in the movement of her tail and the bristling of her fur as she hoped for a moment that Maris Fero might never make it out.

Under the watchful gaze of Iron Fist consortium, they stood sentinel for now - as the sound of the mechanisms gave way to a sudden but worrying crunch of gears followed by silence.

​

----​

The echoes of the machines final, sickening crunch of gears faded slowly in Maris' ears, the gloom of the outside replaced with the near total darkness of the claustrophobic crawl space she found herself sealed within. Slowly the youth eased her grip free of the bars and stanchions she had used as supports, letting her butt body come to rest uncomfortably upon a now motionless gear chain that had moments before been in motion. The touch of the cold metal through the back of her sweat soaked top was actually reassuring solid for the moment.

The space stank of machine lubricants and dust, and though there was next to no natural light Maris eyes slowly grew accustomed to what little light escaped from gaps in the maintenance hatch above.

She wanted to move, to find an open space where she might avoid the feelings of suffocation this space engendered in the young woman. Silently, Maris reached for her chest harness and cracked a glowstick, shaking it gingerly in the cramped space and watching as a dull green illumination highlighted the shapes in the darkness around her. She did not dare signal, anything she might send to inform the outside would surely be noticed by the security team for the building. Instead, Maris closed her eyes once again and visualised the map of her route, in her head, seeing again the layout of the secure area exactly as her informant had told her.

As she reminded herself of the route once again the interloper pulled a vicious looking collapsable stun baton from her harness aiming the end at a nearby fire control junction box and stabbing the charged head into its delicate workings. Immediately bright actinic sparks flashes and the smell of smouldering circuitry made her turn away from the damage she had inflicted. Someone would have been dispatched to check on the fault. All Maris needed to do was wait.

----​

Maintenance Droid X3-B4 was an older model, a basic unit with little to no capacity for original thinking and endowed with precisely defined protocols. It had been dispatched with standard work orders for diagnostic work and repair scheduling on the sublevel eight-theta gangway mechanism. With utter indifference Unit-B4 entered the darkened chamber, raising illuminator strips automatically as it walked. Chemical sniffers identified burnt poly-carbons and charred wiring. The unit paused in place to observe the chamber it found itself in, a continuing hallway with grilled floor panels covering a short gap down toward the working mechanism of the bridge.

“Log Start - preliminary visual inspection reveals no signs of external damage in walkway eight-theta. Traces of chemical combustion present in the atmosphere. Initiating visual inspection of the mechanism. Pause Log.”

The machine ducked smartly and removed two of the floor grill panels with robotic deftness, each dropped aside, clanking up against the passage wall. B4 reached to pull free the panel lock and hefted the maintenance hatch aside, pausing momentarily in to reassess the new situation. “Log Sta-”

The machine had been incapable of being startled or surprised, nevertheless, the vocoder machine voice unit shifted pitch dramatically as the droid faceplate sparked in response to the vicious stabbing prod it received from the hidden invader revealed within the crawlspace.

Still stiff and cold, Maris was fast nonetheless and rose quickly to repeat her blow on the struggling droid, this time prodding the charged baton beneath the machines ‘chin’ and watching with some satisfaction as sparks were followed by grey acrid smoke and the machine worker toppled back, unresponsive.

----​

Silently the youth stalked down the adjoining corridor, moving with good pace along the dim corridors. Maris had always been a lithe thing, in another world and another life she might have been a dancer, but in Efavan she was a thief and shadow. Hearing noises approaching from ahead Maris glanced around quickly. Doubling back was useless, there was little cover that way, and so the Shrike leader forced herself as tightly into the alcove alongside the door as she could, holding her breath as footsteps approached from behind the portal.

“..-B4 isn’t communicating, could be a fire- maybe something else we nee-” the voice was faint, but Maris realised that there were two sets of footsteps, heart quickening as she looked about again for a way out, still seeing none.

The door control panel clicked softly and the door retracted into the ceiling with a puff of gas release.

Don’t see me, don’t see me, don’t see me. She urged the thought, her eyes falling upon the first figure behind the door, a near-human with black irises, whose gaze seemed to bore straight into her.

“-d to check out when we get there,” the figure continued, striding on unconcerned by the presence of the pale-skinned woman hiding before him and leading a similarly oblivious figure down toward the hall eight-sigma.

Once the pair were safely out of sight Maris breathed again, eyes wide with confusion and locked in place for the moment; The guard had seen her, must have seen her, and yet he had walked on regardless as if she were as insubstantial as mist.

It took a moment for the raven-haired girl to shake herself from her confusion and moved on toward the security control point for section eight - mind still dwelling on the guard's blank expression.

----​

Maris paused before the secure doorway to the control room, looking up and down the hall once more before fishing the data spike Enyo had delivered to her from her harness and lining the device up at the door mechanism. She stopped briefly to breathe again, eyes blinking at the silvery spike of data tethers and charge receptors, before burying the spike deep into the lock mechanism and hearing the machine cycle for combinations.

It took only seconds for the device to do its work, and Maris braced herself - preparing her entry in anticipation of the secure station's doors parting. Maris moved the instant the doors parted, a pair of waiting security officers turned to look toward the door, smiles turning to confusion at the visage of the slight youth charging the pair, sparking baton flickering with potential energy.

"Who the fr-!"

The first guard, a red-eyed Duros tried to raise his hand to block the forward swing of the woman’s blow, but the rod’s impact against his forearm caused a violent crunch before the charged end made a brief connection with the blue-skinned thugs cheek, throwing the hired muscle back - his head flailing against a sturdy workstation and splitting the skin. The man was out cold.

The Duros companion, a long-limbed Phindian woman was quicker to react, lashing out with a powerful punch toward her attacker whilst her free hand reached back blindly for her blaster pistol. Maris took the blow directly to the chin and yelped in pain as she fell back jaw ringing. The Phindian glanced back to find her pistol, raising her retrieved weapon and looking back toward Maris and swinging her blaster around to finish the girl off.

Maris hissed to herself as she shook off the hammer blow punch from her opponent, seeing the pistol rise as if in slow motion and pushing a hand out as if to urge the dark olive-green skinned security enforcers gunsight lower. As she did so Maris ducked left and low sweeping out with a vicious leg sweep to try to unbalance the golden-eyed killer before her.

With a growing look of surprise and dismay the Phindian seemed unwilling or unable to bring her pistols sights to bear on the slim assailant, and with a painful crack, Maris sweeping kick broke something in the crooks ankle, sending her tumbling with a pained cry.

Finally, only Maris was standing, shoulders hunched and on guard, glancing behind her on the lookout for more guards before looking back to the downed Phindian with poorly disguised anger as she tasted the droplets of crimson blood dripping from Fero’s nostril and onto her lips. With a cold glare, the girl placed the tip of the shock baton to the last guard's temple before she pressed the trigger.

-----​

The siren chirped its three bleat signal again before the flashing of warning panels accompanied the opening of the heavy blast doors. The silhouettes of a pair of tall cartel security staff looked on in confusion as the gangway extended back to the shadowed walkways. Lights flickered on and off, the two guards stood over the smoking husk of a ruined droid tried to raise a silent control room with increasing agitation whilst countless hidden eyes watched them from the shadows.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


It was not difficult to get the mercenary commander to leave his men to their drinks and go somewhere more private. Indeed, he was quite eager to drag the comely waitress along with him, while his hands roamed over her body. Presumably the liquor helped a bit. "Sir...someone could walk in any moment," Charlotte played coy as they got near a maintenance room.


"And? I'll just tell them to feth off. Now don't play coy with me, girl. You don't want to upset me, do you?," he grunted, slurring his words a bit. He grabbed her, pulling her close for a forceful kiss. There was alcohol on his breath and he swayed. Then suddenly his comm beeped. "Commander Grann, there's been a malfunction in..."


Something clicked inside his mind as he struggled to maintain his balance. "You queen," he moved to grab her throat, not knowing that his seductress did not breathe, but his grip slackened and he tumbled to the floor like an empty sack of potatoes. Charlotte, meanwhile, she flowed into a new shape. Her skin rippled and her clothing was rapidly revealed to be nothing more than liquid metal. In the blink of an eye, she'd assumed the shape of a tall, officious, masculine Chagrian merc commander.

In the same moment as she bent down, two thugs happened to pass by. They looked at the unconscious Chagrian, then at the faux one, and raised their blasters. Before they could fire any shots, the Terminatrix was already in motion. Her hands moved in a blur, morphing into razor-sharp blades which slit their throats. Then her small blades retracted, as her hands reformed. She dumped the man she was imitating in a maintenance closet, then activated her comm.


xxx

Outside the gangway extended back to the shadowed walkways. Lights wildly flickered on and off. In vain, two understandably confused Cartel guards tried to raise the control room or contact their superiors. Their efforts were short-lived, for though they might not know it, they were being watched.


Then two silenced shots tore through the cool air. CRACK CRACK Two hypervelocity pellets escaped the muzzle of a well-oiled Verpine shattergun. One thug was shot in the head and died right away when the pellet ripped through his brain, the other got his kneecap pierced. He stumbled and fell to the ground.


With one hand, he hit the emergency button on his comm. Clutching his wound, he dragged himself away and he fired his blaster towards his elusive adversaries in the shadows. Then he felt an invisible power seize his throat and, as he struggled to breathe, crush his windpipe.


His struggle ended, and Enyo Typhos stepped out of the darkness, followed by her horde of cyborgs and criminal goons. This assault would be a first trial by fire for her new vassals. Brandishing their new weapons, they followed in her wake. By the standards of any galactic military or the security force of a megacorporations, their new blasters and slugthrowers were dated. But they would be more advanced than anything these young legbreakers had ever held, let alone fired in anger. They even wore rebreathers and something close to body armour. Nothing that would tank military grade blaster bolts, but better than nothing. Maris and Charlotte received silent pings, alerting them that she was on the way.

 

[Maris Fero]

Maris had hoped to watch the war party enter on the displays in the security point, but due to whatever malicious attack was underway on the systems - courtesy of the data spike Enyo had provided - she struggled to follow anything of the attack through staggered frames of blurred activity.

She had secured the downed hoods in chamber already, making use of the security team’s own stun-cuffs to pacify the pair of prone forms should they awaken. As further precaution she had confiscated their weapons and equipment, keeping one of their communicators for herself and smashing the others beneath the butt of a stolen blaster.

The thought had crossed her mind that she could have killed the pair to be sure. Would that have been Enyo’s play? Would her new boss be disappointed in her apparent reluctance to end the temporarily subdued criminals? She glanced to them again, weighing up her options as she tested the settings on a borrowed blaster pistol and half heartedly aimed it at the closest body.

At once the sharp squeal of an emergency signal was emitted from the comm’s units she had taken for herself, an emergency signal had been activated somewhere in the casino. Cartel enforcers would be scrambling immediately, though with a virus at large in the main security systems they would at least be near blind to the details of the emergency, probably even unaware of the nature of the attack they faced.

I should have killed the two in the halls.. Maris chided herself silently, suddenly sure that it had been her hesitation earlier that must have allowed them to get any signal out whatsoever. A signal from her own earpiece alerted Maris that Enyo was on her way. Maris turned smartly on her heels and padded silently down the next passage way toward another armoured doorway, the control panel was a garbled mess of symbols that suggested major corruption, but a manual release handle had unlocked and the heavy barrier parted revealing another short section of hallway before opening up into a wide, shadowed chamber.

Lights blinked intermittently ahead of her and Maris spied the shadows of moving figures between the bulk of freight containers, transit crates and vast casks of drinks. Cautiously the ghost approached the chambers edge and listened, picking up quiet whispers as the hidden thugs moving beyond her sight. The raven haired youth paused to consider her next move, eyes flicking from shadow to shadow as she considered a route. She sent a signal of four clicks to Enyo. A warning for caution.

She threw herself into the lee of two great stacks of food crates and pressed herself to the shadows as the sound of heavy footfalls forewarned the sudden approach of a broad, barrel-chested Besalisk sporting a heavy blaster in his upper hands and testing the weight of a heavy club in the lower arms. The huge thug paused by her hiding place and glared into the gloomy passage through which Maris had passed.

“Power’s screwy in eight-sigma, too.” Massak reported in a rasping whisper, a heavy digit activating the communicator on one of his scarred forearms. “Two of you cover dis’ way, two with me, the rest of you dig in here.”

Undetected, Maris imagined herself meld into the shadows, eyes closing and breathing almost halted for now she listened carefully, trying to count the sources of sound she could hear - though the echoes of the chamber made it near impossible.

Heavy footfalls indicated her close companion was moving off now, and as he moved the young woman’s eyes flicked open and she slipped silently from her cover once more. Moving at speed and with practised silence she vaulted atop a low freight stack and though her own movements had been precise and careful, the crate itself creaked, the sound deceptively loud in her ears. Ahead, the Besalisk froze, turning on the spot toward the sound. Maris had not been idle, and had already changed direction, springing across a short gap, catching a ledge with her fingertips and heaving herself up atop a far taller container. Before falling silent and still.

Massak grunted and returned to the crate she had climbed upon, a heavy hand running across the smooth surface as if searching for heat, pressing it upon the metal and hearing a similar groan. The Besalisks meaty face pulled into an ugly frown as he peered around the shadowed rows of freight in annoyance, before giving the guilty crate a heavy kick and turning back to his search.

Only gradually did Maris allow herself to move again, inching forward toward the edge of her vantage point and scanning the gloom for the figures she knew to be there. It took her only moments to spot the first handful of shapes awaiting in ambush over the main arterial passage, the route Enyo should have chosen to take more were arriving from the freight elevator beyond which just so happened to be the attackers first objective.

Maris sent a further clicked message of warning, followed by a dozen clicks, meant to indicate the number of ambushers she had seen so far.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


It was a truism that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. Perhaps Maris had been sloppy, perhaps the security guards were simply more alert than anticipated. Either way, the Cartel's enforcers had been alerted and would be scrambling to locate and eliminate the source of the disturbance.


On the bright side, due to the virus, they would be fumbling in the dark, unaware of the true nature and scale of the attack. Thus, to an extent, the element of surprise was maintained. It helped that the Iron Fist consortium was still a very new, barely known player on the board. Indeed, so far the big mafias of Vorzyd would have had little cause to notice it.


After today, this would change. Success in battle was brought about by a combination of thorough planning, ruthlessness, training and improvisation. And so, as Maris' message burst through her skull and she received a dozen clicks, Enyo decided to improvise. At least a dozen ambushers awaited them - and more were probably on the way. They needed to hit them hard and secure the elevator.


Fortunately, she had minions who could play the role of the forlorn hope. So she gave the signal for the group to come to a halt. "Melort, you have the honour of drawing first blood. Bring some of your girls forward and draw the enemy out. We shall cover you, and light up the enemy once they reveal themselves," she ordered blandly. It was doubtful that all enemies would reveal their location, but it would give Enyo more of an idea of where they hid.


The bristling of her fur and the slight tightening of her jaw showed that the Selonian saw the meaning of Enyo's words and was not thrilled. But she could hardly voice disobedience without losing face. Especially since Maris seemed to have succeeded in her mission. Was it too much to ask that she'd die today?


"Kiyo, go along. All, put on your rebreathers. Second line, prepare flashbangs and gas grenades. Throw them once we know where the enemy is," Enyo continued. While Neda saw to the coordination of the small strike force and readied her bolter, the hybrid glanced towards an acolyte called Varis, giving her a curt nod.


Once the Cerean had been a Jedi Padawan, before Enyo and her Sith companion [member="Vaylin"] invaded the Jedi enclave she'd lived in, slaughtered the masters and abducted the apprentices. The two Dark Force-users had divided the spoils between them the way one would divide chattel. Varis was one of those who'd survived Enyo's gruelling training and indoctrination. Her silvery cyber-hand - for Enyo had cut off her flesh and blood appendage - wrapped itself around her lightsabre shoto. Dark power surged through the Geist as she vanished into thin air, disappearing from the sight of man.


A barrage of blaster bolts greeted the goons who'd been given the unenviable task of drawing enemy fire. A cry of pain was heard when a thug dropped to the ground with several blaster bolts being put through him. Another soon followed him on the road towards the Netherworld. The gangers returned fire as best they could, while they made a fun for it, seeking cover behind the various crates and containers. Shouts, cries of pain and the staccato of blaster and slug fire filled the air.


Flash of particles beams flew down the passages. Gangers fired wildly, as they hastened for cover. The positions of various shooters were marked on Enyo's HUD. A message of warning crackled through Maris' earpiece, alerting her of what was to come. Bringing up her well-oiled bolter, Lieutenant Neda Chazzak squeezed the trigger, firing a flash round. Abruptly, the darkness was pierced as the passage was illuminated by a bright, dazzling, disorientating flash.


Then the attackers began lobbing in grenades. The small, cylindrical balls tore through the air with blast and heat. Upon hitting the ground, they expelled clouds green-yellowish gas. Stepping into the fray, Enyo drew upon the tangled web of power that was the Force to push the gas forward towards the enemies. Those who inhaled it would have trouble breathing. Furthermore, it would help obfuscate the attackers.


xxx


Far away from the bloodletting, the partying continued. Most of the guests would not have even noticed or heard of the fighting. The criminal individuals who were aware of the potential disturbance would not want to waste the chance to squeeze even more credits out of their patrons.


And so scantily clad dancers continued to dance or give wealthy clients a happy ending, guests continued to waste away their savings at slot machines. The atmosphere of normalcy was deceptive, though Cartel enforcers were already being scrambled to deal with the disturbance down low.


It was all ridiculous and decadent to Charlotte. A sign of organic weakness. Purposefully, she made her way to a luxurious private booth, now wearing the face and uniform of the Chagrian enforcer. To her, it was just another mask. She had forgotten what it was like to wear her own true face.


"I need to speak to the Vizier. It is urgent. His life is at risk," she spoke in a perfect mimicry of the Chagrian male's officious, imperious voice when she approached the two Besalisk guards, who each carried a pair of imposing Force pikes. The Vizier, as he was called, happened to be one of the cartel's Chevin counsellors.

 

[Maris Fero]

There was little to be done from where Maris rested, patiently awaiting Enyo’s assault and her chance to join the fray. From her hidden vantage point, the ganger kept track of a half-dozen targets; two would have been simple shots with surprise and elevation on her side, but to give her position away now when she still had no backup would simply lead to her being located, surrounded, and captured or killed.

No, she would stay put and wait for her chance to act when it came. With carefully controlled movement Maris shifted onto her back before peeling the dark grip gloves from her hands, already noting the dark blemishes across her knuckles from blows the youth had sustained getting this far. She pulled the small hat from her head as well and then set about unstrapping the remaining bulk from the light harness, freeing herself from as many of her burdens as she dared.

As she looked at the dulled illuminator strips in the chamber's ceiling the raven-haired youth’s mind went back to those guards again, the man who had passed within arm’s length, looked her in the eye even but walked on without calling attention to the interloper. It was as if he had looked straight through her.

The sound of blaster fire and the barking report of projectile weapons brought Maris back to the moment. Beneath her position awaiting mob enforcers had raised their weapons against a new foe. Green eyes sought the targets of the ambush in the gloom, and Maris found herself surprised and to see two or three familiar forms, some ambling, others scurrying and diving for cover.

Selonians, Hrakians and even some of her own Shrike’s seemed to be engaged in a frontal assault on the ambush. Maris’ eyes widened as she watched a Ku Melort and her cousin Rakisst in the throng, realising that Enyo’s chosen tactic had been to run the gangers into the mouth of the trap first, doubtless a cold calculation - probably based solely on efficiency over any sort of care for the gangers safety. Would Maris have been in that throng had the plan been different?


Shots fired from both sides, though the first casualties were almost universally from amongst the street gangers. Maris watched as the Selonian Rakisst took a stray round to the leg and collapsed at his cousin’s side, Ku Melort’s agonised face as she tugged the lamed ferret into cover behind her and sent inaccurate fire back toward the direction of her cousin's assaulter. Others were falling on both sides when Maris received the warning chirp in her earpiece,

Without a pause for hesitation, Maris closed her eyes and averted her gaze from what was to come, hearing the explosive bolt go off and detecting the intense flash which accompanied the impact, even though her eyes were closed. Maris had been given the barest briefing on what came next, though recalled enough to fumble for the compact breather mask in amongst her remaining items.

----​

Suddenly, the whole aspect of the engagement had shifted, those unfortunate and uncoordinated gangers who had neglected to wear the breather masks choked on the tainted air as readily as the Cartel thugs. Maris heard the change in discipline immediately, the firefight had three distinct elements now.

Struggling professional thugs tried to maintain the pinning fire they had displayed, but the blinding choking gas was disorientating even the most veteran hardman. Broken and pinned, the first wave of gangers were firing indiscriminately, for the most part. They kept to cover and cared more for keeping the volume of fire high than hitting much. Beyond both groups came a rhythm of firepower like a crashing wave. Near professional in its application, the volleys of fire cut through the Security staff and flailing gangers alike when one would mistakenly enter the lines of fire. Sporadic fire from the second wave of gangers added to the wave seething projectiles, but most failed to connect to required shots accurately in such conditions.
Enyo’s promise returned to the forefront of her thoughts as she watched the struggling ganger's, jaw setting and making a promise never to be the pawn sent in at the head of the column.

----​

Melort’s angular snout flicked back to fire another brace of blasts toward the regrouping mobsters as her cousin struggled and moaned at her back. The bleeding was extensive, dark rich crimson matting her fur and spilling between the grilles of the meshed flooring lattice. The scent of blood was thick in Ku’s nostrils and she snarled as she again cursed the Shrike who had led them to this place.

Maris Fero was long gone, she had led them into a trap and now - as she had promised on several occasions - the pale skinned little freak would outlive them all. She almost suspected that the Shrike had sold them out to spite her, using the Cartel as Melort wished to use the Iron Fist.

A sound to her right dragged Ku from her bitter reflection and brought her attention to a vast grey skinned hulk with four thick arms grinning her direction as it closed on the pair. Evidently, the Besalisk was either immune to the gas or was fighting its way through the discomfort. The vast square edged club made easy work of the drums Rakisst was hidden behind. Battering one aside and cracking the other open, a sludge of dark syrupy slime slowly seeping from the breached barrel’s wall.

Melort raised her blaster and put a pair of shots into the towering thug's shoulder and upper chest, but an ablative vest absorbed the worst of the discharge and the monster merely laughed as it levelled a killing shot toward Rakisst.

Before the trigger was pulled the wall of arms and muscle bellowed in pain and stumbled as the smell of cooking meat filled the immediate area of that claustrophobic battleground. As the quad armed giant fell to his knees he turned flailing toward the slight shape dashing past his back.

Maris Fero smiled coyly toward the giant, sparking shock baton still flickering its discharge from the heavy blow to the Besalisks calves. Two arms reached out to block shots from Melort but the thugs remaining limbs swiped the heavy mace toward the fragile looking Human girl. The look of pain and anger was written on the giant's features as he snarled and swung again, barely missing the agile little creature.

Melort fired again, this time stitching shots up the thugs flank, bypassing the strongest areas of the monster's armour and scoring his skin deeply with painful burns. The flinch was all Maris needed to step under eh mobsters guard and score a crackling strike to the beastly thug's jaw, rewarding Maris efforts by sending the huge warrior into painful convulsions at Maris' feet.

Melort's dark eyes looked up to the wide eyes of the panting human who had come to her aid, noting the knowing glare in Maris' eyes as they locked gazes, seeing the judgement there again, only hate existed in Fero when it came to Ku Melort.

----​

The melee that followed was a blur to Maris, she moved with a rhythm born of a streetfighter, using speed and stamina to prevail where strength might fail her. At some point she had lost the shock baton, its charge all but spent now. The battle had worked its way deeper into the almost cavernous vault. At some point, a long-bladed knife of some clear polymer with a wicked edge had been taken from a fallen foe and the results of such a bladed weapon in the girl's hands had been unsettlingly visceral to the young gangers still around her. Slick blood matted her raven-black hair wetly, though little of it was her own, alabaster skin was similarly stained about her hands and wrists. Though she had seen no one expire by her hand yet it was likely some of her previous foes would not leave that room with the living.

Enyo’s soldiers had been efficient, and though Maris had seen little of her new boss from where she had been fighting it was apparent from the sound of the lightsaber in the distance that upon seeing the tide of reinforcements pouring from the service elevator Typhos had entered the fray herself.

“Shrike!”

The challenge cut through the haze Maris had lost herself within and the young woman turned toward the familiar voice.

The heavy impact of the solid slug passing through her abdomen knocked Maris back and into a crate stack as she had turned to face the grinning Herk Mallit and the Carrick thugs at his sides. Thick blood oozed from the wound in Maris' gut as she struggled to right herself. The Shrike’s face twisting in agony and fury at the sheer selfish stupidity of Mallit.

I should have killed you all quickly.

The thug smiled a crooked, bloodstained grin as he pointed the pistol at her chest this time, cocking his head and looking to his accomplice. “We just take this as a part of our payment for the job right?” he laughed, the weasel laugh of a man born to be second place. Herk was enjoying himself.

Maris moaned as she lunged for the Carrik, her aim fouled by pain as the sneering ally sidestepped, cracking the butt of his pistol to Maris temple and sending her reeling again.

Rising again the slender ganger struggled on one knee, feeling the burning heat of her rage and embarrassment that such a low pathetic creature as Herk Mallit would lay her low. His crowing voice resounded in her ears and the woman's jaw tensed, baring her teeth as she tried to summon the strength and rage to take him with her. Imagining herself throwing him into the stack of crates at his back with her blade buried in his gut.

“This is for Akro..” the gangling youth rasped as he approached her once again with a confidence to his swagger.

No.

With a cold fury writ across her features, the youth glared up to the approaching ganger and threw up her hands, rising with a furious roar. A wave of her rage and fury seemed to find form in that bellow and Maris felt the strength in it, recognising a familiar taste to the sensation. Herk Mallit and his cronies were thrown back impacting with a wall of crates with a thunderous clamour as if her voice alone had thrown them like ragdolls.

Maris stood once more, one hand clutching her wounded gut, the other held out toward Mallit as if she had swept them aside with a gesture. Maris blinked in surprise as she watched the struggling hoods crawling and trying to clear their heads, just as confused as Maris herself had been when Enyo showed her the truth of her own weakness.

She took another few steps to stand over the trio, eyes locked to Mallit’s first as she raised a fallen blaster to end his miserable existence.

"You are Herk Mallit," she stated in a low, steady voice, all hints of rage replaced by an icy promise. “I am Maris Fero, You will submit to me or die…”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


The passage had become a slaughterhouse. Enyo was quite comfortable with being a butcher. Clouds of gas permeated the air, tainting it. Some of her minions, those among the gangers who had foregone their rebreathers, had choked on it as easily as the Cartel's thugs.


Particles of laser fire burst through the air. Professional Cartel enforcers tried to regroup, find cover and deliver a barrage of blaster bolts towards the intruders. A number of those gangers who had believed their charge to be futile or a trap took heart and charged. Their fire often lacked discipline and many, unused to their new weapons or military precision, just wasted their ammo spraying the walls, but it still served a purpose.


The cyborgs advanced, spreading out as they crossed the distance towards the enemy. Their volleys were like a rhythm, an orchestra of purgation and death. Unlike the simple gangers, their heavy suits were fully sealed, much like the armour of Imperial stormtroopers. Advancing by fire and movement, some of the Iron Fist goons delivered suppressive fire, while others moved forward and made use of their enhanced speed.


Commands were passed on via their implants, meaning that the Cartel thugs faced a near faceless, silent enemy. Neda drove the small unit forward, forcing gangers forward through sheer force of personality. Her bolter roared, spitting out a salvoe of explosive microgrenades that fashioned a hell of their own as she moved from cover to cover.


In close quarters, the Cyborgs fell upon their enemies with vibroblades and vibroaxes. Containers and the floor were splattered with blood. To their credit, the enforcers showed courage and rallied, and the Iron Fist's advance was not without casualties, especially once the enemy focused their fire. But it seemed inexorable.


A dark armoured figure, whose placid face was covered by a helmet, advanced doggedly. Violet lightsabre in hand, she fell into the swirling, elegant yet efficient defence of what Jedi and Sith would have called the Soresu form. Crimson bolts erupted around her, but she moved onward, her lightsabre smoothly parrying the blaster bolts that swept towards her.


Some were reflected into walls, the floor, the ceiling or right back into the bodies of shooters. Their own bolts tore through their armour and into their flesh. Others sought to take their place, but her blade moved in calculated violet arcs - and then she was upon them, delivering killing strokes.


One enforcer she simply raised with an invisible hand and slammed into a ceiling before almost casually cutting him in half. A large, burly Trandoshan charged at her while she was distracted and swung a massive war hammer. It impacted upon her skull with a loud, sickening crunch, causing quite an impact. The hybrid twitched. Behind her faceplate, her eyes flashed a fiery crimson. Then she drove her foot towards his solar plexus, delivering a thunderous kick that not just mucked up his breathing, but sent the lizardman flying into a container. There was a loud thud when he crashed into it.


Whirling about, she intercepted a vibroaxe a Bessalisk swept towards her, while dodging his second blow. The alien cried out in pain when the Tensor concealed her left wrist fired a nasty tractor beam into his stomach. She took an arm, then thrust her blade into his mouth, roasting his brain.


Up ahead, the Geist had decloaked in the rear of the Cartel mercenaries. Suddenly appearing as if out of thin air, the Cerean struck without warning, stabbing, kicking or shooting while taking advantage of her Force-enhanced speed and agility when the enemy got too close.


However, Enyo's attention was directed away from the ongoing melee, when she felt a strong surge of the Force. Maris was cornered by that cowardly weakling Herk Mallitt and his goons. Enyo had expected the gangers to come to blows at some point. It was disappointing that he chose to make his move in such a...foolish manner. He would not get a chance to regret his mistake.


The Force surged through Maris as she drank from the fountain of fury. And in the blink of an eye, Herk and his goons were on the ground, and she stood upon her rival. It was clear to the hybrid know that she'd made the right choice when she spared the girl. Now her potential had been awakened. She just had to use it. "The traitors will be terminated. Take over here. Secure the elevator," Enyo broadcast to Neda, trusting her lieutenant to handle the job. She made her way towards Maris.


xxx


And so Charlotte was led into the illustrious presence of the so-called Vizier. Judging by his elaborate robes and ostentatious, gilded chair, the Chevin was quite determined to look the part. He was surrounded by armed guards and hangers-on. The carpet was priceless, the chandelier absurdly shiny. "You may speak," the Vizier spoke grandly, making a gesture. "What do you have to say about these reports of a security breach? You understand how important this establishment is for our operations?"


The faux Chagrian merc commander made obeisance, obediently. "Sir, there's been a disturbance. I have evidence that the Ezazt Family has launched a full-scale attack. I just dispatched two traitors among the guards. They may have agents here, and I have reason to assume that this is not our only business under threat. We must alert the Boss."


The huge eyes of the Vizier's massive elephantine head seemed to be trying to look right through his apparent minion. "It is a pity you killed these supposed traitors rather than bringing them in alive. Do not worry about Bogo the Hutt. His safety is assured."


"But surely we must..."


"Everything has been done to assure his security." There was something...off about his tone. Just a minor detail. He sounded too insistent. With his giant paw, he waved her words aside as if they were buzzing insects. "Slaughter these attackers. If Ezazt has made a move, retribution will be swift. Am I clear?" There was an undercurrent of menace in his tone.


You have no intention of warning him, Charlotte, in the guise of the Chagrian, thought. Like all HRDs spawned by Archangel, she had an inherently cynical view of the universe. But such a mind set was an asset when operating in the underworld. Perhaps because he is not alive anymore.

 

[Maris Fero]

Of the three prone Gangers, Mallit was the first to stir. The lanky green haired thug shook his head to try to clear the fuzziness from his thoughts, one hand dabbing a welt of blood on the back of his skull. In the long moments that passed, Herk struggled to piece together quite what had happened. Unable to comprehend what he had witnessed the leader of the Carriks was left only with a sense of confusion and fear.

Wide bloodshot eyes met Maris’ cool gaze, and though he observed the slowly growing rivulets of blood escaping between the woman's fingers he didn’t dare raise his weapon to try to strike her down again.

To his left Varba rolled over, his face torn in a snarl of anger as he looked back at Fero with fear turned to fury. The rage in his gang brothers eyes told Mallit all he needed to know, and even as he wanted to call out to stop his old friend Herk watched the gangers eyes flick to his fallen weapon and the first signs that he was indeed going to try to retrieve the weapon.

Before any such words of warning escaped Mallit’s lips a throbbing red pulse of blaster fire to the upper chest sent the foolish thug tumbling back, dead before his body hit the floor.

Herk’s attention returned to Maris again, suddenly conscious of every tiny movement he might be making, desperately trying to stop the shaking that had overcome his body in the passing moments, but the expression of horror on his features was not going anywhere anytime soon.

Fero’s expression was perhaps the most chilling to the Ganger; The blood-soaked, pale-skinned killer seemed like a revenant, a look of curious awe set upon her features as she studied Varba’s corpse before looking toward Herk again with an oddly avian tilt of her head - swinging the pistol to aim for the centre of his chest too.

Herk blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but only silence escaped his lips as Maris shifted her aim to the unmoving body of Yarva, who had not yet stirred since her impact into the crate wall.

“No!” Herk mewled as he looked from Yarva to Maris just in time to watch the Shrike pull the trigger again.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


The noise of the larger battle had become background noise, though the cyborg remained in contact with her minions through her implants. Neda and her goons had the elevator zone, clearing a passage for the troops to advance deeper into the casino. But their leader had something else to see to first.


Enyo's arrival upon the scene was heralded by the noise generated by her footsteps and the servos of her obsidian armour. Two scarlet beams of blaster fire shot through the air, claiming the lives of two of the gangers who had tried to use the battle as a convenient way to eliminate her gifted minion.


Enyo cared not for their reasons or squabbles. All she saw were the signs of pettiness, lack of vision and discipline. Yarva and Varba were dead. All that was left of the motley crew was Herk. His aura and stance radiated naught but confusion and naked desperation. The cyborg imagined that his fear was so palpable she could smell it. It was an odour that aroused disgust inside her.


But the aura of Maris radiated something entirely different. It was far more pleasing to the Terminatrix. The pallid skin of the short, thin girl was splattered with blood. In the Force, she resembled a predator who only now had discovered her talons and put them to good use. In those cold, cruel eyes, Enyo saw resolve. The cyborg felt something like pride.


"Good work, Maris. You are as you should be now." Her words carried a meaning the mundanes in their gang would not understand. A fire had been stoked inside Maris. Now it was up to Enyo to harness it. Her gift could make very valuable, but also a risk. She turned her gaze towards Herk. "The penalty for betrayal is death. Your life is forfeit," she declared icily. Irritation rolled off her. "Maris, terminate him. We have no time to waste." They had a deadline, after all. She took note of the girl's gut injury. It looked like it would require care.

 

[Maris Fero]

Good work, Maris. You are as you should be now.

The words barely registered to Maris at first, her attention had been wholly focussed on watching Herk Mallit suffer - guilt was yet to surface for the act. The Carriks had tried to kill her, even as they fought another enemy. In Herk’s pain and fear she felt her own fury be quelled, catharsis found in the act vengeance.

Her gaze shifted to Enyo as the statuesque warrior condemned the fallen ganger, reminding Maris and Herk both of the punishment for betrayal. Maris eye’s trace the lines of Enyo’s face, noting blunt force damage to the false skin that hid her true nature, though her new employer appeared otherwise unmarked.

“Please-..” Mallit began to insist, though his words fell short and became a scream of pain as Maris ended his pleas with a further burst of energy from the blaster weapon, though her eyes remained upon Typhos.

The Shrike glanced back to Mallit and idly tossed the weapon atop the corpse of the Carrik gang leader, blinking as sharp pains returned in force. She winced as she moved to follow Enyo onward, bending a little to protect her injury, denying the wound the attention it deserved.

“Sad. I preferred him like that,” she stated in a flat tone, looking around the floor for the wicked blade she had lost, finding nothing. Maris had fully expected to feel something else - loss, sadness, guilt maybe. Instead, she felt nothing but the cold, perhaps she would, later, she thought.

“What did you mean ‘as you should be now’?”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


"You've been awoken to the power inside you - the Force," Enyo responded matter-of-factly. Someone else might have used a more dramatic tone to describe Maris' Force awakening. "I shall instruct you in its use." Congratulations, Maris, you got a master, whether you want one or not. Enyo had an ambiguous relationship with consent.


"Your injury is serious. We do not have the time for medical care," she spoke on, not really giving the girl much time to process things. Instead, she suddenly grabbed the younger woman with a steady, though not crushing grip. "What I do now will hurt, but keep you from collapsing."


Then without further warning, Enyo drew upon the Force. The cyborg did not believe in the Light or Dark Side. To her, the Force was a tool, nothing more. It was the inner flame she tapped into, not some sentient, omnipresent energy field with a will of its own. However, she was undeniably a Dark Force-user.


A dying enforcer gasped and cried out in agony when Enyo ripped the poor unfortunate soul's life force out and poured it into the raven-haired revenant. Corrupted, tainted energy flooded her. For the first few seconds, the experience would not just be unpleasant for Maris, but plain agonising. It would feel akin to having your flesh set on fire.


However, then the pain would subside, flesh would seemingly be mended and bones knit. It was not as potent as the healing of light sided practitioners and could not replace a proper stay in the hospital. But the young ganger should feel invigorated and able to keep going for the time being. The cyborg felt a jolt inside her mechanical skull, indicating a transmission from Charlotte.

 

[Maris Fero]

Her first instinct allowed a look of incredulity to creep over her features at the flatly delivered words of the cyborg. Once she would have known that such a fanciful suggestion was the stuff of story books meant for children - not that Maris recalled ever being read one. Now, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

The Force - Enyo used the word with the surety of the definite article, but in Maris’ world it might has well have been replaced with the word ‘magic’. At first, the idea that Maris might have the potential to wield a fraction of the power Typhos had displayed had never occurred to her. Strange things had happened around the raven-haired youth but nothing that couldn’t be explained away as coincidence and happenstance.

How often did coincidence need occur before the least likely answer became a real possibility?

The world had changed in the last days, and then again only moments before. Everything around her had taken on subtly different shades. This space was darker now, the lingering oppressive echos of the space felt like the final reverberations of her own roar of anger moments before. All about her she felt the pain, not just her own but the pain of many who suffered wounds of their own. And before her was Enyo Typhos. A fulcrum of the energy in the chamber, her closeness felt like an anchor to Maris.

Questions swarmed now in Maris’ mind as she considered past mysteries in a new light, Enyo’s statement that she would instruct Maris received little more than a nod as her attention rested on the freak events of the recent past. Little Balo’s eyes as he fell from that roof top returned to haunt her again, the accusation in that gaze all too real now.

Maris looked to the slowly oozing blood escaping from between her fingers and remembered that before this momentous shock there had been such pain. That pain returned and she opened her mouth to reply to Enyo before the Force-user’s vice like grip took hold of Maris and held her in place effortlessly.

She had little time to process Typhos’ words, and nodded as she gazed into the cyborgs synthetic eyes, trusting the words and expecting the pain to come. Growing was always painful.

The awakened Maris’ hypersensitivity was still keen for now, and she felt the pain of the dying enforcer even before she heard his agonised cry. Maris eyes widened at the sensation and she gazed into the inhuman orbs of Typhos; Perfect and yet dead, feeling the distant heat behind dark cold eyes.

Then Maris screamed.

Heat and pain, a flood like molten metal cascaded through the slender youth and she felt herself convulse sharpy in Typhos grip as the energy of the dead man was fed into her own broken form. Blinded by the pain, Maris felt the fear and agony as the souls last moments coursed within her, the taste of it sharp in her mouth. In the moment, Maris felt her skin peel away as it was burned to ash in Enyo’s grip, and the pain in her gut flared as she were impaled upon the cyborgs violet blade.

The pain subsided as suddenly as it had arrived. Maris eyelids fluttered open she felt her skin cool and again detected the cold chamber about them. Her eyes widened and she tilted her head to glance at the staunched would upon her midriff, seeing only caked blood for now. Her gaze flicked back to Typhos and she smiled, pleased now, closing her eyes again for a moment and taking a deep breath.

“Where to now boss?..”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Finally, Enyo released Maris from her iron grip. Physical contact had been necessary in order to facilitate the transfer of tainted vitae. The corrupted energies would help keep Maris going, though she would probably not be able to avoid undergoing actual treatment once the fight was over.


Enyo did not reply immediately to the girl's query. While Maris regained her bearings, the cyborg received a transmission. It was directly beamed into her skull. "I have infiltrated the Hutt's headquarters and fed the enemy false information," Charlotte spoke, launching her report without preamble. It was not a purely verbal transmission, for the Chameleon also sent her an image of the face she was wearing right now, along with intelligence concerning the interior of the casino and the forces arrayed inside it.


"I suspect Bogo may be dead. Our enemy suspects the Ezatz may be behind the attack. The passage the elevator leads you to is tightly guarded, but they have moved many of their forces to other quarters. They are in the dark about the scale of your assault. I may be able to persuade some of their minions to switch. Be advised, enemy reinforcements are en route."


"Proceed. Make sure the bigwigs don't leave the casino. Secure the communications room," Enyo transmitted in response, then terminated the connection. To Maris it would have probably looked like as if the Terminatrix was simply staring at her with an unmoving, rigid face.


"We rig the elevator with claymore mines and send it up. Once the shaped charges have caused a bang and killed the guards, we climb up using grappling hooks, then move into casino. Our objective is to capture Bogo's inner circle." She did not use air quotes because that would not been an Enyo thing to do, but one could probably understand the implications.

 

[Maris Fero]

As ever, Maris did not like to feel ignorant or simple, and if anything her need to feel in control was ever stronger following whatever power Enyo had used to nourish her injured flesh. Claymore mines and shaped charges were alien concepts to her though she had some expectations based on the context of Enyo’s plan Maris knew that she suffered from a severe knowledge gap. Something to raise with her new teacher sooner rather than later.

Grappling hooks and elevator shafts suited Maris well enough, ever since her earliest memories the girl had had an insatiable urge to climb and explore her strange dark world.

“Are we going through the casino loudly? Or am I trying to hide all of this?” Maris gestured to her ruined vest, the bloodsoaked ragged leggings and her grime smeared face. She looked feral. “I don’t much care either way. Though I need another weapon.”

The youth watched Enyo’s troops at work setting up the trap to come with some interest, though it was clear her mind was far from that task, a hand tracing across the ghost of a closed wound on her belly. She felt the flame again in her memory, the burning that could resurrect her, like the phoenix of stories.

“What are we?” she asked quietly as if the answer might be different from anything Enyo might have said before.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Enyo shook her head. "They know an attack's coming. Just not what will hit them." She gave a curt nod and Varis, having suddenly appeared next to them while barely making any noise, handed Maris a heavy blaster pistol and a grappling hook. With her newly expanded senses, perhaps Maris would sense an aura of power surrounding the Geist. It was similar to Enyo's, but possessed only a sliver of the power the cyborg wielded. Wroth and bloodlust radiated from the Cerean revenant.


The Terminatrix' minions set to work, preparing the trap on the elevator, before Neda gave her boss the go-ahead signal. "Light them up," Enyo ordered blandly, the door closed and the turbolift shot upward, moving a few levels up. Cyborgs rallied around her, preparing for the ascent. With some hesitation, the gangers did as well. The Shrikes were probably happy about their boss putting an end to the Carrik gang leader, the Oddballs less so, though those dared not voice such sentiments openly.


"We're Force-users. Sciians. The Gifted." Sciia, or the Force, was a gift to the chosen, though not by any goddess or cosmic power. Those who could access this untapped reality possessed the potential for greatness, though most failed to live up to it or became addicts who used their gift as a crutch. It was a manifestation of one's spirit that allowed the practioner to harness their inner flame and achieve power.


For without power,

you were nothing but fodder in this galaxy.


Stretching out with her senses, she 'felt' that the elevator had reached its destination. Upstairs, the door opened, and as if on cue a group of Cartel enforcers opened fire, unleashing a barrage of blaster bolts that would have surely claimed the lives of a number of Enyo's minions...were it not for the fact that the lift was empty. Save for the Claymores. It took a split-second for the goons to realise what was up. Too late.


Even so far down, Enyo heard the deep, earth-shattering boom that tore through the ranks of the Cartel's finest, blazing a path of destruction as it rippped bodies apart and caused damage to both the corridor and the elevator. It was a controlled explosion since shaped charges had been utilised. Perhaps Maris felt the lives being snuffed out. "We're going up. Activate grappling hooks."

 

[Maris Fero]

The Geist’s silent, near invisible approach actually managed to stir a silent barb of irritation to the Shrike. For the longest time, Maris had been the stealthiest person she knew, but the Cerean had so far displayed an unsettling knack for appearing where Maris least expected and rarely raising any suspicion beforehand. It was fair to say Maris did not like the Geist, despite the aura it seemed to project at that moment - so similar to hers a short while before. She accepted the weapon and climbing gear with a curt nod and the quiet hope that an accident might befall the Cerean before too long.

Maris watched the elevator ascend and imagined, for a moment, the scene of destruction the blast might create. To her continuing surprise, the guilt over their actions was still absent from her and as she stood amongst Enyo’s cyborgs and the knot of gangers. Maris turned to consider her old allies and their feelings the trepidation around her as a taste in the air. She saw many of them turn sharply from her gaze;

The few Carriks, mostly in shock a mixture of anger and confusion seemed most reluctant to still be here; Melort and the surviving Oddballs appeared cowed by the brutality of what they had seen - Ku Melort herself lowered her gaze and tilted her head toward Maris - a subtle sign of submission she realised - after having witnessed the final passing of Mallit.

And her Shrikes? Fear.

The sensation took Maris by surprise at first, looking from old friends to her most enthusiastic recruits. None seemed willing to hold her gaze. They felt the change in her even before they heard Enyo’s words. She was not the same as them anymore. She had never truly been the same.

The explosion from above shook through the building, and the reverberations of the blast seemed to echo endlessly about the high walls of the wide freight elevator shaft. The noise alone was enough to unbalance some of the gangers, but Maris’ senses were drowned out by the wash of agony, anger and desperation that accompanied the blast above and left an icy chill through her core - it was as if the agony and death of the mob enforcers possessed an echo of their own, though no one else appeared to comment on its passing.

"We're going up. Activate grappling hooks."

The Cyborgs acted in unison, a combination of training and augmentation allowing them an unnatural coherence that Maris and the gangers could not hope to achieve. The gangers followed suit moments later, their accuracy poor and technique nonexistent, it was obvious that no more than a dozen would make it up to the target floor with the first attempt.

Maris simply chose to mimic Enyo, and though she lacked the cyborgs precision she was able to land the grapple successfully on her first attempt. Clipping the device to the harness she wore, Maris depressed the activation stud on the device when Enyo signalled again and with a sudden jolt, she was ascending at speed. The air whistled about the climbing forms and the sudden feeling of near weightlessness brought on an unexpected grin of excitement to the newly awakened ganger as she followed on behind Typhos’ billowing coat.

The ascent was rapid and slowed only as they approached the end of the line, well-drilled cyborgs raising weapons to cover their arrival as the ruined hall appeared over the lip of a mangled elevator doorway. The sight which greeted them had the look of a charnel house. Crimson and viscera were obvious everywhere. Those unfortunate souls caught close to the blast were already gone whilst those more distant lingered in near death, many missing whole limbs and vast quantities of blood already. There was a power in this place, Maris felt as if so many lives ended so quickly had left a roiling sensation in the air itself, so obvious she felt as if she could reach out and touch it.

No resistance still stood here, and the group was able to enter the casino proper at last. From this floor, they could already hear the thumping of music and the buzz of many thousands of souls eagerly spoiling themselves in the opulence of the Hutt’s design. A temple to his own worship.

Maris raised the heavy blaster and flicked the safety off, noting the full charge bar and letting out a long calming breath as she waited for Enyo to give the next order.

The plan entered phase three, find the Hutt.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


Deep inside the halls of the luxury casino, a massive number of devotees continued to the God Mammon and his exalted prophet Bogo the Hutt. They did not know of the violent struggles between Cartel enforcers, cyborgs and street gangers. All they was one commandment: Thou must win the game. And so they kept playing. The thumping of rock and the buzz of thousands of souls was like an orchestra. Their surroundings were opulent, the waitresses barely clothed, and holographic projections were omnipresent. Some of the holograms were ads extolling the latest consumer products. Others were apparitions of the Hutt who was High Priest of the Cult of Profit.


Then their song was rudely disturbed. A gang of heavily armed ruffians entered the hallowed hall of worship. They were unbelievers who spat upon his name. Cartel enforcers and guard droids opened fire upon the usurpers. The air was filled with the staccato of blaster fire, accompanied by the shrieks of terrified guests who hid or ran away.


However, some stayed where they were and kept playing, such was their devotion to the cult. One of them was Susanne Ziegler. She knew that she could win this game. She only needed one more round! And so she stayed at the slot machine, oblivious to everything else. Her eyes looked mildly glazed.


She continued pushing buttons. All the noise disturbed her. She barely registered that it was gun fire. "Maker's breath, can't you lot keep the noise down!" she yelled, without taking her eyes off the Wheel of Fortune, even as automatic slug rounds whizzed past her. She could win this. She was destined to! Her face was splattered with green ichor when the Geist cut a Trandoshan goon's head off.


xxx


Among those things Enyo despised, ostentation ranked pretty high. She had no qualms about profiting from another person's vices, but prided herself on having none. So as she stepped into this temple, this centre of addiction, she felt a strong surge of disgust.


For the guests who were so weak, foolish and lacking in self-discipline. But also for the Cartel and the absurd Cult of Personality. Anywhere she looked, she beheld holograms prizing projects or exalting the Hutt she was certain was long dead - or just a pawn on the board. All she saw was weakness.


With military precision, the cyborgs unloaded into the ranks of the hastily mobilised guards. Her violet lightsabre slashed bolts out of the air, causing cries of pain when they were reflected back to their shooters, while in her other hand she fired armour-piercing bullets from a heavy pistol. "Secure the hall," she ordered Neda gruffly. "We must push through to the executive suites." That's where the bigwigs would be. A grand, marble staircase would lead them to this inner sanctum. At the top of the stairs, one could see two gilded lion statues.


Her mechu-deru senses tingled when guard droids appeared on the spot. Two of them were droidekas, suddenly rolling out of an opening in the wall. Shielded by individual deflector shields powerful enough to resist lightsabres, blasters and even light artillery bolts, they were potent fighting machines. Their twin-barrelled, high-output, rapid-fire blasters unloaded upon the attackers, causing some casualties.


Cyborgs and gangers alike sought cover, with the more professional among them trying to flank the destroyer droids while firing, taking advantage of the fact that even these powerful shields could be taxed. "I'll deal with this. Cover me," and then Enyo had bolted. Having sought refuge behind a large poker table, Neda peeked out of cover, firing a Blind round with her bolter. A combination of a traditional smoke round and an electro-statically charged particle, this projectile interfered with scanners by creating a barrier. She followed up with an ion round from her battle rifle.


Running up a wall, Enyo kicked herself off and leapt, landing behind the destroyer droids just as the cloud began to lift. Mechu-deru surged through as she unleashed its energies. One destroyer droid that had just taken aim on her, suddenly found its programming corrupted - and opened fire on its comrade instead.


The latter returned fire, but then was suddenly knocked over by a blast of the Force. Flailing about, it found its deflector shield deactivated. Swiftly getting on top of the spider-like droid that tried to right itself, Enyo thrust the tip of her blade into it, piercing its armour and CPU.


xxx


"Sir, we weren't expecting you here."
"There's been an attack in sector D2. Your squad is ordered to contain the situation. Others will relieve you. We suspect operatives have already infiltrated the casino. I am checking security measures," the faux Commander Grann spoke grandly.
"I will have to verify this..."
"Man, the jewel in the crown of the great Bogo the Hutt is under attack and you want to impede my efforts with bureaucratic platitudes? Do you want to explain yourself to the Vizier? Or even better - the Boss?"
"Not like he's ever around," the Cartel enforcer muttered.
"What was that? Would you prefer to be sent to the slums - or to labour in spice mines?"
"No, sir. Sorry. You can...pass."
The faux Chagrian stepped into the communications bunker and made a show of performing inspections. At the far end of the room there was a door labelled restricted. Patiently, Charlotte waited until there was an opening, then moved over. Quick slicing froze the security camera. Examining the console next to the heavy blast door, she found that it reacted to voice command. So she spoke - in the voice of the Vizier.

 

[Maris Fero]

The casino floor was an alien world to the gangers from Lower-L and Upper-P. The region of the city these youths normally inhabited was a dark and shadowed place where the mean temperature remained warm at all times of day and the air pollution was visible as a grey yellow fog in the skyline. The structures at the lowest levels of Efavan were predominantly utilitarian, a world of necessities and compromises for the sake of maximising the profitability for those who ruled above.

The Casino stood in stark opposition to their vision, a palace and playground to pure recreation. Everywhere around sallow yellow-green skinned native Vorzydiaks swarmed gambling machines and refreshment tables. Amongst the cavorting masses of the eager natives, there were lifeforms from a thousand different worlds present, intermingled amongst long tables where cards and dice elevated some and eviscerated others. Every surface was a polished marble, every machine plated in chrome. Dancers moved about the space amongst the gamblers, their images projected to vivid holograms all over the casino floors. Plants and statuary formed barriers and conversational features, many of which took the bulbous form of the slug-lord Bogo the Hutt.

At first, no one reacted to the massed entry of armed and bloodied killers in their midst, but slowly the ambient volume near the Iron First interlopers had dimmed, and wide eyes fell upon the growing danger in their midst. To Maris, wide-eyed at the sheer opulence of the space, time itself seemed to slow to a crawl as she watched mob enforcers and security droids finally register the direction the threat had arrived from.

From somewhere on her right Maris heard the first staccato of gunfire and the whining reply of blasters, and with that burst of noise the tension in the chamber finally spilt over into a scene of bedlam. Maris sought cover nearby immediately, reaching the solid bulk of a games table just as the security droids released a volley of shots in her general direction.

Her gaze followed the disciplined fire of the cyborgs, and the striding advance of Enyo, that violet blade erupting from the handle in her grasp, the warrior moving with apparent nonchalance as she negotiated the furious firefight.

Enyo called the advance and Maris hoisted her blaster over the edge of the gaming table, squeezing off bursts of fatal energy into the ranks of guards and droids alike. At Maris side, the sinuous form of Ku Melort rose to add her weight of fire to Fero’s and all around them the Shrikes and Oddballs found their confidence.

Stitches of rapid blaster fire cascaded in waves from a pair of advanced droids atop a marble staircase and pummelled their position, causing the three closest gangers to shrink back down behind the solid mass of the cover. Maris ducked too but maintained a view of the droidekas reflection in a nearby mirrored pane of glass.

The advanced droids had some form of shields, clearly, and even the sustained fire of the group appeared ineffective. Suddenly Typhos set off at a run, the soldier Neda providing covering fire. Maris watched in mute awe as her promised mentor built up speed and seemingly able to defy gravity itself she ran along the vertical wall a short stretch before launching herself over and up in a high arc, coming to land precisely at the droids back.

Maris missed exactly how Enyo finished the first droid, but a moment later Typhos was straddling the upturned form of the fallen droideka and impaled the insectoid droid beneath her blade.

Fero was up and moving before even the Cyborgs moved, chasing after her new boss and putting down prone or injured mob enforcers with precise shots, “Come on!” she called back to the Gangers with a growl to her voice and a confidence she had not felt since Enyo’s arrival on Vorzyd.

She came to a halt at Typhos side and handed Enyo the embedded security card she had extracted from the fallen maintenance droid at the very outset of the invasion. With the security system still scrambled, only the maintenance access would still have full access to the next doors, and would hopefully bypass alerting some of the next automated defences as well.

“You need to tell me I can do that,” she begged Enyo, shaking her head and looking at the distance the Cyborg had travelled to reach the Droidekas. “That was awesome..”

The second formation of Enyo’s men and gangers had secured the main entrance at the same moment they assault had reached the casino floor, and now the two groups had pinned the bulk of the casino floor security survivors between them.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


"Authorisation accepted. Welcome, Grand Vizier," the artificial, feminine voice from an electronic speaker. The heavy blast door opened with a hiss, and Charlotte stepped inside. Alas, her entry did not go unnoticed, despite her precaution with the camera earlier. For the Chagrian commander was supposed to have access to this room.


"Intruder...sound the alert..aaargh," the guard who greeted her got no further for one of her hands suddenly morphed into a small blade and she slit his throat. Contrary to popular belief, getting your throat cut was not an instant death unles all carotid arteries were severed, and she'd been in a hurry.


So he was in agony as oxygenated blood failed to reach his brain. Swiftly, she retracted her blade and grabbed him, using him as a human shield while she grabbed his gun hand and shot down two of his companions, using his own gun, who riddled their comrade with bolts.


Dropping him to the ground, she bolted and leapt, somersaulting behind a massive console. Alarm sirens howled, and she heard the sound of boots rushing towards the door from the outside. Peeking out from cover she fired, rolling to avoid shots as a barrage of bolts shot towards her. A blaster bolt struck her, disintegrating her cover as it peeled away the liquid metal, another grazed her shoulder, then smoke filled the air when a grenade impacted upon the ground.


Calmly, she manipulated the console, shooting a spike into it. Overriding the security protocols, she willed the door to close. There was a loud, agonised cry of anguish when a Cartel enforcer who happened to be in the process of crossing the threshold was squished when the closing door crushed him, turning him into a pancake. But the shouts coming from outside told her that she had to act quickly.


Looking around, she found that the chamber was filled with computers, consoles and holographic projectors of all kind. Indeed, it was full of holograms of Bogo the Hutt, showing him in various poses. Her right eye, slightly damaged and with its mechanical nature exposed, flashed wildly.


Her attention was pulled away from the holograms when she heard whimpering. Swiftly moving towards the sound of the noise, she found a technician cowering beneath a table. "Please, don't hurt me. I'm...just the IT guy. I just follow orders," the tech begged the droid. It was a blue-skinned Twi'lek wearing a pair of glasses.


"Get up," Charlotte commanded, still sounding like Grann.


The frightened tech looked up. "You're not Grann...who the hell...what are you? Are you with the Cartel?"


Roughly, Charlotte grabbed the woman by the lekku, producing a pained cry. She was not as strong as her more combat based HRD, but enough to overpower and torment someone this feeble. "I know your species' lekku are hypersensitive. Sufficient harm can cause brain damage. You will answer my questions and I will not turn you into a vegetable. Understood?"


The alien paled. "Y-yyes...yeah, sure. Just don't hurt me. This is...how we keep Bogo alive for the world..." Loud pounding could be heard coming from outside, and a turret sprouted from the ceiling...


xxx


Naturally Enyo's long coat billowed in a dramatic way while she pulled off her cool salto and told gravity to sod off. Presumably the coat had been struck by a number of bolts and thus probably had some holes in it, but it still looked cool. Because the rule of cool dictates that a Terminatrix requires a needlessly dramatic long coat.


And cool shades. So far, Enyo had refused to fulfil her contractual obligations and wear sunglasses though. What a square. Anyhow, on with the plot. Enyo took the profferred security card from Maris, realising the purpose it served. She could feel the youthful enthusiasm rolling from the young girl. It was slightly amusing.


"It is for very advanced practitioners. We shall start with the basics and go from there. If you prove yourself, you will learn more powerful techniques," she responded. The metal lady just had to be a bit of a spoilsport and dampen the girl's enthusiasm with dull, officious realism. She turned her head slightly to Neda and Aigle, giving them a curt nod. "Charlotte will need backup. Go to her," she transmitted to the Geist, ordering her to take off and aid the Chameleon.


By now the second formation had stormed the main entrance. Some enforcers had been taken prisoner, many had been slain, however. Having passed on her orders to the reinforcements, instructing them to further secure the casino and prevent enemy reinforcements from entering, while directing some agents to the communications bunker, Enyo moved on, signalling Maris to follow her. Some cyborgs and gangers followed in her wake. Their path would take them through the maintenance area, hopefully allowing them to walk the path of least resistance.


xxx


This left Neda Chazzak and some goons in the casino hall, at least till backup arrived. The former One Sith Stormtrooper was relishing the power she held over the collection of well-off individuals who had been busy enjoying the manifold amenities of the casino. As she gazed upon them, she felt a stab of contempt. She was by no means as disdainful of luxuries and creature comforts as her boss, but seeing all the opulence on display brought back memories of living in abject poverty in Kuat's slums. Ironically, after the One Sith's collapse, she'd spent some time working as a bouncer in a casino like this. She'd hated that period of her life.


There was whimpering, threatening, shouting and begging from all quarters. To silence them and give her some quiet, she raised her pistol and shot into the air. The whine of blaster fire produced the desired affect. "Now that's better, isn't it?" she asked rhetorically, her voice modulated by the electronic speaker inside her helmet. "You may not have noticed it...but the management is undergoing a couple changes. Nothing dramatic. Just a slight reshuffle. We got no quarrel with you. All you gotta do is stay quiet...and pay up. Then the games can continue."