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Tohu pulled the trigger. Two hundred yards away, perched up on a rooftop bar. Dony Veng, his target, never knew what hit him. Tohu grinned, pulled the sniper blaster rifle's muzzle up to his mouth, and blew the smoke off the heated barrel. Whoever said practice makes perfect was right on the money.
He set the sniper aside on the tiled floor and dove back in the rooftop bar's swimming pool to the cheerful clinks of cocktail glasses.
Next on the list was an older Nautolan who was close to retirement. Not close enough, however, and he would soon learn the harms of crossing the Syndicate.
Grunt entered the condo the target owned, choosing a 'gun first' approach. Gunning down guards was one thing, and it just happened to be one thing the Gamorrean was good at. As he made his way to the bedroom where the Nautolan slept, he almost felt bad taking such an easy kill, but then he remembered he doesn't really feel anying. He then shot the now awake and pleading old man.
Roll 1- Utter Failure. -1 on next roll.
Roll 2- Success. Target Eliminated.
Roll 3- Failure, but give -1 to target.
Roll 4- Success.Target Eliminated.
Haro Olen was never an easy man to find. Tonight was no exception. In fact, it was especially true. Morrow had tried everything; his usual haunts, posing as a client, even interrogating his associates. Haro was nigh a ghost, much harder to find than the intel had suggested. It gave Morrow a bad feeling. Did the broker know he was marked? He was starting to believe the search was a bust until a final lead came his way.
A loose-lipped former companion, scorned by a night of passion without a call back, spilled the location of a safe house not in Mauve's dossier. Morrow wasted no time getting there. A Nar Shaaddan taxi, a measure he'd usually avoid, but time was of the essence. A big tip and subtle threat ensured the driver wouldn't remember his face.
On the second floor of the grungy apartment building, Morrow skulked out of the lift and into the main cooridor. Trash littered the floor, accompanied by a small handful of scattered spice addicts in varying levels of conciousness. Left unlocked, door number twelve opened to his probing touch on the control pad. Another bad feeling, but he drew his blaster and proceeded carefully anyway.
Then, a pang of danger assaulted his senses with deadly urgency. Beneath his boot, he felt the resistance of a tripwire. His body twisted, leaning out of the trajectory of a blaster bolt that screamed from a blaster rifle rigged to fire. Losing his balance, he stumbled further into the room and knocked over a couchside table, falling to a knee. Another flash of impending doom, and he noticed a rhythmic beeping echoing through the empty room. Through the darkness, a small red light, barely visible, was blinking with increasing speed.
Scrambling to his feet, he surged forward towards the nearest window and threw himself through it. Just as the glass shattered, the explosive waiting for him in the apartment exploded. Heat at his back, he hit the ground hard with a rough roll that served only to stop any bones from breaking. Emergency alarms and speeder anti-thefts triggered by the shockwave began to scream into the night. A rain of glass surrounded the building. The warmth of blood drawn from shards of glass grew under the fabric of his cloak. Pain shooting in one leg, he limped from the scene as fast as he could.
Haro Olen had known more than he had any business knowing.
* * *
Fortunately, all of the wounds he'd received from the glass had been superficial. Likewise, his leg didn't hurt nearly as much as it had initially. Still, he was no longer in ideal shape for this night of reaping. Morrow was, however, nothing if not adaptable. He would pursue his final target, though his approach would require a significant adjustment.
Morrow stalked Lel Zhaad for hours. There were plenty of opportunities to take the Duros down if he was one hundred percent. Every step shot a pain through his knee, reminding him to be cautious, and made him swear up and down that Haro would pay. For now, though, Lel was his focus.
An opportunity finally presented itself. Lel walked alone for the first time in almost three hours, down a secluded street in an obscure slum. A shortcut, maybe? Morrow found himself curious, but didn't dwell on what would possess the alien to make such a fatal mistake. No time for answers, only to jump on the opportunity.
Morrow followed. Lel must have gotten a bad feeling. The Duros swiveled around, but saw nothing behind him. Morrow was a step ahead, hiding every time the smuggler decided to look over his shoulder. Tension grew with every meter until the raven-haired assassin had caught up. Once Lel finally spotted him, it was too late. Morrow's vibroblade plunged through his flesh and into a kidney, a black gloved hand keeping any attempt to scream muffled. Then, a deft slash opened the Duro's throat, and a shove put him into the pavement.
Black boots sped up to leave the smuggler to die in peace. Moments later, a small weight was felt in his chest as the Duros' conciousness dissolved into the Force.
He threw his war helmet at the Firrerreo hitting Trok in the back and causing him to fall down. Right in a small street with a few patrons on about their business, though now distracted by this commotion. It was enough for Amun to close in on his target, now again engaging in close quarters with Trok.
A few punches and kicks here and there until finally Amun overwhelmed the Firrerreo. He unsheathed his petar and exploiting an opening stabbed Trok right in the heart with them. There was no way the thug could regenerate from that, choking on his blood before falling dead to the ground.
The Kyuzo kicked an air of dust to the corpse, a sign of respect to a fallen foe and retrieved his petar. Walking away to find his new target.
Malyssa wandered the streets looking for her target as she ran into him in a back alley she pulled a blaster pistol out real quick and shot him in the back before she continued walking.
The damage the rancor had done to Kyber's chest prevented his cloaking device to function correctly making escaping the pen a much harder proposition. If this area had been more open with easy access to higher ground Kyber might have been able to combat the rancor but while the pen was big for a normal person it was small for a rancor and defiantly small for someone trying to fight a rancor without being hurt.
For about 10 minutes Kyber was constantly barely dodging the attacks of the rancor trying to tire it out just enough to risk going for the hidden entrance/exit. Finally Kyber spotted an opening and ran for it, as the Rancor swung its fist Kyber got down low and slid under it and to add insult to injury sliced its hand off with his saber before falling down the entrance.
The amount of injuries Kyber sustained due to that rancor meant there was no chance for him to go for his second last target without serious repairs. Hopefully his luck will turn around with the final target
Mad Eyes Weil was a con artist with a solid rep and thirty years of experience in the business. His eyes could always pick out a weakness, find the right target and conjure the right con. Most swindling jobs in the Colonies for the last decade were his, and that consistent revenue stream into Black Sun's coffers had elevated him into a trusted lieutenant. But now his eyes had deceived him -- he'd thought the Syndicate was punching far above its weight and that wouldn't last too long, so he'd talked.
Now he was moving fast through the throng of people in the spaceport, hurrying down the hall lined up with gates leading to different docks. At the furthest end of the hall was Dock A56, where his getaway shuttle was. Black Sun infobrokers had said the place was brimming with High Republic agents, so Tohu had opted once more for the blaster sniper rifle.
Lying down on an empty walkway of an abandoned repair project, Tohu's crosshair filled up with the small head of Mad eyes Weil. He took a deep breath, steadied his hand and pulled the trigger.
-- Sudden Death Round!
Ruleset: Whoever rolls the highest 1d6 wins!
From afar the Kyuzo propped up his bowcaster and looked for Mad Eyes. There were plenty of turncoats here, but this traitor was worth more than these other scum.
Finally, he found his prey through his electrobinoculars and moved to his weapon. Lining up his shot and trailing, taking a few seconds before pulling at the trigger.
Amun
Grunt
Morrow
Kyber
Malyssa moddol
Diamond Dog
