Mission When the Dataway Bleeds: Cartel City in Revolt

[Mr Black]

Planet: Echelon
District 29: Cartel City
Somewhere Near Speederway 772X
Continued from: A High Family Matter Reflected in a City of Glass | Sieve Protocol | A Carnage of Chaos
Open to all Echelon faction members, on any side or position in this for their own personal or faction stories.

​

Cartel City... casinos stacked high like vertical temples of vice, clubs alive with synthetic bass and biolume signs, respectable corporate fronts masking Hutt cartel industries spread across the Outer Rim. To corporations, it was a shining contractual blight upon Echelon, baked into the planet's foundations and balance sheets alike. To mission runners, a dangerous but reliable source of data-currency and underworld credits. And to the gangs? Turf to bleed over, competitors to erase from memory, and reputations to carve into durachrome and bone.

Within it all, Data Prophets continued to preach for the freedom of the Dataway. Zealots broadcasting from cracked holoscreens, or covered in glitched symbolism, drawing crowds so large the Cartel had finally acted, and crushed them. Riots followed predictably. Streets burned, and Casinos went up in sheets of fire and collapsing transparisteel. Some might say justly so; who sheds a tear if a few Hutts burn? But chaos like this was never simple and never ended clean.

Echosec corporate security held several zones, their drones and badge wearing troopers dug in behind energy barricades and shut storefronts. But it had grown so bad the Megacorps had authorized SecNet paramilitaries, blunt instruments deployed to restore order, something they achieved brutally, if at all.

When the Apex speeders came in, they did so heavy and low, escorted by A-TRD hovertrucks and ASF shuttles, their searchlights cutting white beams through lingering smoke and falling ash. The ruined speederway beneath them was a graveyard of overturned hovercars, shattered holosigns still buzzing ads no one would ever answer.

Ironwraith 's team rode in the convoy as it slowed to a stop at the heart of it all, where a firefight raged around something far larger than it first appeared. His people were with him, equipped exactly as he'd demanded. Kas was even sober. Moments later they were on the scene, surrounded by expectant eyes all waiting for that one slip up to sieze influence.

"Ironwraith," Black said calmly, the city reflecting in the polish of his auguments. "Apex Executive Advisor for Security Operations. This is Ms Rix, consultant, information broker, and data specialist." Ana Rix

Speeders began to fully disembark behind them, enough men for an operation but not as as blunt instrument against rioters.

"I suggest...."

A plume of smoke erupted far behind them, followed by the concussive echo of a fuel cell going critical. Black almost flinched. Almost. His ocular HUD decoded threat distance and probability curves. The flashpoint for this, their speederway zone, was secure enough…

"We have reports the Dataway is somehow linked to this," Black continued in an even tone. "And Ana... if you could break down what we discovered for Ironwraith… preferably in language that doesn't violate every terms-and-conditions clause the Megacorps would have our heads for."

Ironwraith was a family friend. But Black had already seen what lived beneath the signal, the way the Dataway moved through infrastructure, ideology, and augments alike. It was a risk sharing anything at all. "Ironwraith," Black said, finally turning fully toward him. His gaze lingered on the trooper's armor, the plating, the patched seams, the sight of someone who had survived what should have killed him. "If you have a plan Old Man..."

His eyes moved instead to Ironwraith's team's HUD feed, watching the tactical overlays sync with Apex predictive models, soldier instincts interfacing with bleeding-edge corporate war algorithms by their AI. An enduring survivor of history standing inside the future with a team much the same.

"...I'd very much like to see how a man who has fought ghosts plans to deal with a city that's fast becoming one."

 

[Allie J.]

​

[]

Hellhound - DeathbyRomy ft. Jazmin Bean
​

Location: District 29: Cartel City
Somewhere Near Speederway 772X (Building Rooftop)
Tag: Open

Allie J. reclined upon the tar-scarred crown of a nameless building, where the rooftop vents breathed like somnolent beasts and the city sprawled beneath her in crooked angles. She sipped her beverage; cool, sweet, and faintly bitter, as though distilled from forbidden fruits grown under a dying sun, while her scanner muttered in low, frantic pulses.

Each report spoke of the riot in disjointed fragments: overturned transports, fires blooming in the avenues, voices screaming themselves raw against the armored advance of authority. The chaos below felt distant here, dulled by altitude and irony, and she smiled thinly, savoring both the drink and the knowledge that the city's pain was momentarily not her own.

From the towers and monoliths of Cartel City, the Prophet's broadcast rolled outward through banks of speakers like a sermon from an alien god. The voice was warped and resonant, swollen with promises of revelation, its cadence slithering through the air.

Words of destiny and cleansing thundered across the skyline, echoing from steel and glass, while the riot reports on her scanner counterpointed the speech with raw, sentient panic. She listened to both at once, letting the contradiction amuse her, this Prophet proclaiming order and ascension, the streets below answering with fire and shattered bones.

Beside her, sprawled open like a sacrificed offering, lay a broken droid whose chassis bore the scars of neglect and violence. She worked patiently, fingertips dancing with practiced irreverence as she teased apart the machine's AI brain, its lucid lattice pulsing weakly with corrupted thought.

She hummed softly as she rewired synaptic filaments and purged fragments of damaged code, occasionally glancing skyward while the Prophet's voice droned on and the scanner hissed fresh calamities.

In that moment, with beverage in hand, riot in her ears, false prophecy in the air, and a wounded intelligence beneath her care; she felt a peculiar serenity, as though she alone stood at the calm center of a vast and uncaring cosmos.

The calm of the rooftop was ruptured by a concussive bloom of light and sound that clawed its way up from the streets further down and below, the explosion rolling through Cartel City like the bellow of some subterranean god disturbed from its slumber. The air shuddered, vents screamed, and distant alarms joined the riot's mad litany as a pillar of smoke coiled skyward in obscene, living spirals.

Allie J. lifted her gaze with lazy interest, the glow of the fire reflecting in her dark glasses as she took another measured sip and drawled, "Well, that can't be good. Looks like the natives are growing more restless...or maybe they're just feeling more bold tonight."

She exhaled a long, weary sigh, already tasting the loss of her half-finished drink and the wounded droid's silent plea as inevitability crept over the rooftop like a cold fog emerging from the depths. She rose, brushing oil and lubricant from her hands, and chuffed, "Better get down there," with the resigned certainty of one who knows the cosmos never permits leisure for long.

Even as the words left her lips, she could almost hear the future: her wrist com-link poised to roar itself awake at any moment, demanding her presence in one grim capacity or another.

 

[Ironwraith]

The plume of smoke erupted behind them, followed by the concussive echo of a fuel cell going critical. The chaos would have rattled most, but Ironwraith's eyes, partially obscured by the reflective visor of his armor, betrayed nothing. He exhaled slowly, analyzing the blast's vector, the likely structural collapse points, and the trajectory of debris. Flames licked the edges of overturned hovercars and shattered holosigns, but to him, the scene was just another layer of data to parse. His team mirrored his calm, moving with the silent coordination of veterans who had walked through worse.

"Stand down!" he barked into the crowd, his voice cutting over the roar of burning speederway and the hum of panicked hovercars. He lifted one hand, fingers splayed, the other hovering over the blaster pad set to stun. "I said stand down! And produce the one who started this riot. Do that, and no one else here gets cuffed. Fail, and I assure you… consequences will find everyone." His words were measured, deliberate, carrying both authority and threat. The crowd hesitated, a ripple of uncertainty passing through them as they weighed the consequences of defiance.

His gaze swept the gathered masses, cataloging threats with the efficiency of someone who had spent decades reading people before a word was even spoken. He noted the hesitant ones, the agitated ones, the ones who might obey if they recognized the presence of someone who could move faster, think sharper, and strike cleaner than anyone else in the room. The city's pulse, its chaos, its very rhythm — all were inputs, all were data, all were opportunities.

Over the comms, his tone was calm, almost teasingly confident. "Son—no, sir… Mr. Black," he said smoothly, voice just a fraction warmer than usual before snapping back into formal tone, "I always have a plan. Actually, multiple plans. Just waiting to see how the pieces fall into place." His words were meant to reassure, but there was a subtle edge — a reminder that he had walked through cities collapsing into flames, and he had never failed to navigate them.

Ironwraith shifted slightly, positioning himself to dominate the line of sight both to the street below and the Apex speeders above. Every fire-lit reflection in his visor was cataloged: fleeing citizens, panicked rioters, armed provocateurs, and structural hazards alike. His team mirrored his calculations, ready to move at a moment's notice, synchronized as if guided by a single mind. Kas adjusted his stance beside him, sober and alert, eyes scanning for threats that Ironwraith had already accounted for. Each member of his team understood the unspoken rules: control, don't escalate; stun, don't kill; adapt, always adapt.

Then he moved — subtly, deliberately. A step forward, a tilt of the head, a hand gesture — enough to redirect a group of rioters away from a collapsing sign. His presence was enough; few dared challenge the calm precision in his movements.

The Dataway hummed beneath the city, a ghostly presence in the infrastructure, ideology, and augments surrounding them. And Ironwraith, standing in the center of the ruined speederway with fire and smoke framing his silhouette, was already three steps ahead — reading it, anticipating it, prepared for it. For once, chaos itself seemed cautious in his presence.


Allie J. Mr Black