Private We're Hittin' it Rich! | Bank Heist

[Lirka Ka]

Sometimes plans took you to strange places, and sometimes such places was a dark and dingy room filled with various scum and villainy all looking for the chance to stab each other in the back. It was a hodge-podge sort of crew, drawn from underworld depths and by the recommendations of those nasty sorts. They didn’t really know who their boss was, some sort of rich Outer Rim Queen wanting to cause some havoc: supposedly. About a dozen and half scoundrels had been gathered up, a flickering holo-table in the center.

And an absolute giant brute of a...man? Watching over it, the form of an IGBC bank slowly appearing within the blue. The brute called himself nothing more than “Rudge”, his armor a crude and brutish mockery of the dead and disgraced people of Mandalore, blaster marks pocked into the scratched maroon metal. The “man” had a gruff voice, distorted by the helmet he kept over his head. Of course “he”, was actually a she, and “she” was actually there employer. Lirka Ka. Grand Moff of the Imperial Borderlands, slaughterer of Mandalore, de-limber of Kaine Australis, and generally unpleasant person. The Sephi had decided her first adventure onto the field after her...repairs...needed to be a return to tradition. And so here she was, back in the underworld.

Her trade-marked blades had been left off in Imperial Space, instead she hoisted a crude Blast Cannon that seemed better suited on a walker than being carried by a person. But “Rudge” was a crude man, who liked his big guns. Though presence and “the demands of their boss” Rudge had been put in charge of the whole thing, the T-faced helmet watching over the gathered assembly. Before the scraggly voice of the brute pierced the room.

“Alright, you lot! Gather around this here Holotable, and I’ll hash ya’ out the plan.”

Gods above. It hurt Lirka’s soul to speak like this again.

Fillion Orville Dispara Dezik Agorr

 

[Fillion Orville]

"You are going to die screaming." "Maybe, but if I don't I'll be in the know for this secret crime ring." The musings of the veteran padawan were one of many questions he was struggling with as he arrived at the meeting site. He was going to be the wheelman if everything lined up properly, but boy was he going to get in hot water over this if Zemmy caught on. To be fair, it wasn't a Jedi World that he was doing this on, and if all went well he could rat this little band out to the authorities before it got too heavy; least if he survived that long.

Fill was a grizzled spacer in another life, but in this one he was a criminal, turned smuggler, turned reluctant jedi padawan. He could get to places most socially inept padawans couldn't even dream of getting into. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his trech-coat, he looked to the group that had gathered around the conference room, wondering how in the world this little gang was going to accomplish anything short of mass murder. He was digging the Selphi woman that was going to play a part, so hey, worst comes to worst he could get her transmission number. "Right, so, anyone new to this whole crime thing? Because if you are well....you need to know the ground rules." He looked to the hulking monster looming over the table, figuring that if the creature wanted to, it'd snap Fill in two. "I mean, you seem like a pretty smart fellow, so I'm guessing you can break down the rules for us all?" He mused, looking around the room to make sure he wasn't the only one talking right now. Last thing he wanted to do was be the guy who was marked as expendable. His eyes went to the stormtrooper clad man who was also present, and narrowed his eyes at the man. Well, at least everyone had their masks ready to go. "Not trying to bust your nut buddy, but the stormtrooper guise is going to catch some attention." With that, Fill went quiet, knowing he probably had irritated everyone in this little meet up, but hey, he liked to talk.

Dispara Dezik Agorr Lirka Ka

 

[Dispara]

Tag: Fillion Orville I Dezik Agorr I Lirka Ka

Once she got off of the grassy rock she had lived on for fourteen years, Dispara had found the galaxy to be a pretty great and terrible place. One could make a place for themselves with hard work and steadfast ethics. Despara had the stomach for neither. But, the backwater shaman found a plethora of worlds that were awash with the weak minded, souls that could be easily manipulated.

The temptation to employ her shaman powers to take advantage of those poor souls what great and rarely resisted. Such nefarious antics inevitably drew the attention of the unsavory underworld types. These too, Dispara dabbled with when it was to her advantage.

It was such a criminal sort that tipped her off to the job. Robbery, theft and other such material-oriented crimes were not her cup of tea. But this one, this one was formidable, she was told. The target was impressive, she was told. And the lead on the job had the stones of a bull rancor, she was told. So, more out of intrigue than anything, the pointed-eared cultist accepted the location of the secret meeting and navigated her way there.

It truly was a gathering of scum and villainy. While the hooded woman studied the team around her in silence, her attention was continually drawn to the hulking armored figure looming over the table. He looked far more suited to carve a swath through an army than robbing a bank. His features were hidden, something that irked her. It was hard to trust someone without a face. Not that she would ever put much trust into any of the strangers around her. But you had to have enough to believe they could pull of the job.

The booming voice of the leader, Rudge, all gathered to view the hologram. Then, the pretty boy spoke up. He didn't have the surly look of a hardened criminal. He was a talker, maybe a face man, who felt compelled to speak his mind. Dispara was curious to see how the seemingly humorless Rudge responded. The shaman gathered closer so she could see the projected image of the bank. Her hand idly rested on the pommel of a rather primitive looking knife in her belt as she peered on.

 

[Dezik Agorr]

Dezik looked to Fillion Orville and then to a mirror, his stormtrooper helmet marking him out. “Yeah but...” he said trying to think up an argument but nothing came to mind. He took his helmet off and instead grabbed a breath mask and goggles, putting it on. Apart from his helmet which was his signature “thing” everything else remained the same. The same leather coat over the same stormtrooper breastplate with the same DLT sitting over his shoulder. He looked back “This any better?” He asked not wanting to shed anything else from his ‘identity’.

Dezik then turned back to their boss, once more fiddling with a thermal detonator, accidentally activating it twice before deactivating it in the nick of time. Dezik wouldn’t normally take a job like this and for the most part he prides himself on being an honest mercenary. But times were hard, imperial warlords were being pushed out the core and those were his primary employers. And he was just robbing one bank, was it really that bad? The naive stormtrooper thought. Either way he was ready to do his part and had packed a lot of ordnance. From detpacks to smoke grenades Dezik was covered in bandoliers filled with ammunition and explosives. “Got everything we need for the job” he said pointing to abag Full of detpacks.