Session export: [S1C2 RP] - Qel-Droma Aroma

Mune had selected their alias, a suitably generic Shistavanen name, even, Lok Crevan. No disguise was necessary in their case, humans had a tendency not to be able to tell Shistas apart. It was not like humans had the nose to detect the difference in scents that Shistavanen and other races had. “Thank you for arranging the credentials.” Mune had no doubt they would stand up to scrutiny; they put a world of trust into the Zygerrian’s skills. “Our intelligence has confirmed that Berrtrand’s intel, in this instance, can be trusted. There is some uncertainty around Lathos. The potential risk has been deemed necessary enough to approach and assess with this meeting.”

The Shistavanen tucked the fake identification away into a satchel before glancing back toward Wyndell. “Wayne Bresse,” Mune used the name almost as a reminder to themself and the others, “I look forward to witnessing your acting skills firsthand. The blonde looks great.”

Was Mune poking fun or paying the man a compliment? It was difficult to tell.

Wyndell did not get the opportunity to ask before Mune was talking to Zig Kaliska, the first mate and executive officer of the Voidbreaker II. “I leave the ship and her crew in your very capable hands, Kaliska. I spoke to Carr. He promises to be on his best behaviour.” Zig and Mune both rolled their eyes at the same time before the Shistavanen continued, “Just set him to whatever project you have lying around.”

“I have a list of ten ready to go,” Zig offered with a wide grin.

“My mother says hi, and she owes you a drink? Zig. Why is my mother asking me to deliver messages to you? On that note, why does she owe you a drink?”

“Because we thought it would be weird for her to have my direct commlink,” Zig offered as a way of reasoning. “On the second…”

Wyndell cleared his throat, interrupting where the conversation was headed.

Mune’s attention glanced past the man to see that the shuttle was ready for boarding. The Shistavanen glanced back at Zig with an arched brow before sighing in exasperation and turning tail to get on board.

Zig’s voice called out from behind them, “Your mom’s hot!”

Her cackling carried throughout the hangar.

Mune’s head snapped around, but their retort was cut off by the closing of the shuttle’s doors. “Mex… buddy… I am going to throw your mentor out of an airlock when we get back.”

Nicfer tried not to frown as the group joked with each other. She wasn’t against levity, her old crew use to joke and play around before missions too. Helped keep the stress at bay. But she was the new one here. Or at least it seemed that way. As the others continued to talk, Nicfer wanted to start getting in the right head space. Taking the ID from Zig as they were handed out. She read the name on the card.

“…Eema Bozzo…” She glared daggers at Zig. “Really. REALLY? I’m a bozo? This cause of my manners when we first met? I-.” She stopped and took a breath before continuing. “May you never find the correct tool for the job at hand.” She was going to have to smuggle her droid into Zig’s workshop so it could execute that curse.

She looked at the image tied to the ID. At least that wasn’t terrible. She was worried Zig had picked a weird image for that too.

“Whatever. This isn’t an issue.” She muttered to herself as she boarded the shuttle. “Why are we taking the shuttle again? Can’t we just spoof something for my ship and fly in style?”

“Protective of her ship… It’s MY ship.”

An idea formed in her head, she tapped on her ear commlink and tapped and did her best to not shout.

“Zig, I swear if you forced me to fly in this flying taxi because you wanted to take my ship out while I was gone I am going to make you overhaul the waste disposal system and clean every pip with a brush!”

She made her way to the cockpit as she talked so she could see Zig. Pointing at her through the cockpit window.

“Do. Not. Take. MY. Ship!”

“I’m gonna kill her.” Nicfer says shaking her head through gritted teeth. “I am going to throw her into a star in some dead, backwater system.”

She heads back to where the others are. Still muttering.

“They’ll be like, ‘Where’s Zig?’ And I’ll just shrug and say, ‘Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s shining brightly. Like her warm personality!”

Clearly still fuming, she looks at the assembled team. “I’m flying.” It wasn’t a request or a question. She said it like it was a constant of the universe.

The mission preamble was received: infiltration. This wasn’t Mex’s first time sneaking into where they shouldn’t belong - besides, it always felt like they never belonged anywhere so pretending to belong was a familiar sensation. Still, it helped to be prepared… They sifted through the pile of equipment in the back corner of their room, tossing aside technology and tools nonchalantly.

Pike? Negative. Blaster. Affirmative. Utility Belt. Affirmative. Armor? Negative. Backpack. Affirmative. Datapad? Negative. Goggles…

Their attention trailed off to the shiny charm they had uncovered. Quickly swiping it up and pining it on their backpack strap they abruptly about-turned to the door and vocalised a click at Squeak to follow. They were going to be late!

When they finally got to the hangar bay everyone else was ready to go it seemed, and they quickly scurried aboard. After the short bout of conversation - and slight reprimand for bringing the shiny badge - Mex tucked it away in their bag quietly with a small pat on the compartment to emphasise it was so. Then jolting to the realisation they needed their fake Id ready per request, pulling it out for examination to remember their alias.

“Hi, I am… Tex..?” They shared, hesitating on the blatant falsehood. Maybe this was going to be more difficult than they originally estimated.

After Zig was done her usual teasing, the doors closed and a few more comments and banter was had. Mune had the uncharacteristic retort to cause bodily harm to Zig. “Hi…” They trailed off, not knowing Mune’s alias of ‘Lok’ yet, before continuing by poking the shistavanen to identify the recipient of the sentence. “I am… Tex. Throwing Zig outside of an airlock would result in potentially fatal outcomes variable to the destination she was tossed out. I can not recommend this course of action.” Sarcasm was still difficult, even after interacting with the others for a while so it was always wise to ensure reservations were properly received. Most were cooperative enough to clarify when the need arose.

Overhearing Nicfer’s designation of ‘Bozo’, Mex unintentionally doubled-down on the insult when she insisted she would fly.

“Hi Bozo, I am… Tex. I will assist you if you request.”

“Hi Wayne, no. But all places have similarities. Boxes with living beings within and without, spaces both tight and open. I have learned Coruscant is very populated. Tight and constrained like maintenance duct. I am proficient at navigating ducts.”

Nicfer stopped mid-stride and turned to face “Tex”. The dead pan look only broken by a slight eyebrow twitch when they said her alias.

“Thank you, Tex. I would have never known throwing someone out an airlock could have fatal consequences. Next you’ll tell me blaster fire is not conducive to one’s health. Or that your name’s not really Tex.”

At that point Wyn’s message cut in of ‘play nice’.

“Yall have my contract and a follow orders. Playing nice wasn’t one of thr orders. You want nice, pay extra.”

She didn’t wait for answers as she went to drop herself in the pilot seat and began the warm-up sequence.

“I know,” Nicfer shouts from the front of the shuttle. “Does no one speak sarcasm any more?” She mutters as she continues pre flight checks.

“Hi Bahzo-Bozo, injury from airlock ejection is not a common occurrence, I am always happy to inform others of potential danger. I can also validate that the two latter statements are correct.”

Once the comments on niceties costing extra were brought up, Mex rummaged through their belongings. “How much are you requesting…?” They asked before overhearing Wyn and pausing with arm still stuffed in their bag

Aother query from Nicfer popped out. Almost as if on queue Mex replied. “Hi Bahzo-bozo, I don’t speak sarcasm, but I can speak basic.”

Mune listened in, their ears swivelling toward whomever was speaking at any given time. It was certainly an interesting team that was assembled. They offered a warm smile to Mex, as if they needed the reassurance, “Do not worry, knowing Zig, she would somehow survive being tossed from an airlock, then find a way to one-up me. Spirits forbid she conscript my brother’s help…”

The Shistavanen patted Mex lightly on their way past the Verpine. “Tex, a tough-sounding name, friend. I look forward to seeing your skills in action. "Refer to me as Lok until the end of the mission.”

They continued toward the co-pilot seat, not knowing how to fly; seeing out the window helped escape the confined space feeling. “And do not worry, we all get paid, in headaches and trauma. It is a very abundant resource. Do us a favour and get us moving before the overtime kicks in, Bozo.”

Was it Nicfer’s imagination, or did Mune stress the name? The Shistavanen’s look was one of gentle neutrality.

Mune tapped a button on the console before sitting down in the co-pilot seat, “We are ready for takeoff. Final checks have been completed.”

“Roger, Captain.” Came the response.

The Shistavanen lounged back in the seat. “Remember. Stealth. I expect your best when we are on Coruscant. I know what you are capable of.”

It was impossible to tell if Mune was paying the Zeltron a genuine compliment of some sort or a veiled warning. Their ruby eyes met her pale blue. After a moment of that fixed gaze, Mune’s muzzle split into a toothy smile. “Let us see your ace flying skills.”

Mune trailed behind the entire way to the bar. Their eyes were straight ahead, but their mind opened to the Force. The threads of time and fate wound bound all things, joining one event to the next. The Shistavanen looked not for anything in particular. The Force would show them what was necessary, when it was time for them to know. (Hopefully, with enough time to act accordingly.)

Slipping under the grungy old neon sign and into an even grungier bar that could only be identified as a dive, Mune’s ruby eyes fell on the bartender. They did not dwell long upon the woman before sweeping through the bar in a quick scan. It was a scan, not out of the ordinary in a place where one had to be wary of a knife slipping between their ribs. Mune was definitely wary. Their ears perked and their head turned, hearing the woman’s welcome. The name suited the place, and Mune could respect the self-awareness. They narrowed their senses, limiting how much they were seeing and depending a little more on the more mundane for the time being. They took a seat.

They noted the location of each patron. The placement of each table. The weapons they could see, mostly peripherally, not wanting to draw anyone’s ire with staring. In a place like this, one could be shivved for a look. Mune preferred limiting the potential of a blade in flesh opportunities.

Outwardly, they maintained a blasé mask. They even flashed a charming smile for the bartender when Wayne spoke.

Following along with the group, Mex just tried their best not to bump into anyone. When they got to the bar Wayne seemed to have things covered. Attempting to take in the sights besides the lights, Mex scanned the bar for potential threats. Lok seemed to be doing the same so it felt like the correct thing to do.

It only took a few moments before they were distracted by the old jukebox in the corner… Alone, unkempt, it yearned for use. Clicking some buttons on the machine yielded no action… Without skipping a beat, the verpine unplugged the machine, pried open the front panel using a hydrospanner and got to work. Some of the wiring had been fried through a short circuit… ripping out the fried piece with a yank they had almost fallen over with the frayed wire. Looking around, they grabbed a fork from a nearby table and used that to complete the circuit anew [Jury-rig III].

A short appraisal of their repair, they slapped the panel back on, plugged in the machine and watched it light up. With a satisfying click of the play button, Tex wiped the dust off the display as it began to play the previously queued song…

Nicfer waited for the rest of the group to enter. She decided it would best if she took a tour around the building. If there was going to be issues they couldn’t deal with, it would come from spotter and forces outside the building as any large force inside his hole in the wal bar would be impossible to hide. Speaking of hiding, Nicfer didn’t want to risk being spotted. She knew she could sneak around, but for that extra oomph, she tapped into the Force. Willing herself to vanish from sight and from any other Force sensitives that might be around. It was a useful trick, but one that took focus and made her feel weird. She hated relying on her ‘mystical connection’ with the universe, but as a tool it was just too helpful to not use.

Starting her patrol, she tapped her comm once to have it on and radioed to the team.

Worried about possible party crashers. Gonna do a lap before heading in. Radio if there's problems.

Once done with her message, Nicfer continued. Looking for anything that might qualify as lookout or combat force on standby. It was likely stupid and overly cautious, but she’d rather be called over cautious than brash and dead.

The Shistavanen ‘s rested their forearms on the bar top. Their mind brushed against Wyn’s, like a subtle brush of fur and whisper of a forest breeze. Their voice whispered two simple words in the man’s head. Trap. Caution. Of course, Mune had no doubt that the man was more than aware already. There was no such thing as an oblivious Tyris. They could act it. They could never BE it. He was also smart, so it was unlikely the man had entered the bar thinking otherwise.

Mune’s ruby eyes watched the bartender. They kept their awareness of the others in the bar, listening to the conversations. Tracking their movements and scents, unable to help thinking some of them desperately needed showers.

The question remained: was their contact betraying them? Was their contact compromised, and was the trap set for both the team from the Brotherhood and the contact? Or perhaps the contact was the target of the trap, and their team was about to be involved coincidentally. Did it matter? It certainly meant that their cover could be blown if they were already found out. If their identities were still a secret, they would certainly be found out if they were not cautious in how they handled the trap once sprung.

Mune met the woman’s gaze.

Coercion. The Shistavanen had to think it was coercion or a misguided attempt to protect her friend. One heartbeat passed into another. The Evereni broke eye contact to glance over Mune’s shoulder. The sound of music filled the bar.

Undoubtedly, Zig would have had some cheesy holovid comment as men rose from their seats to the tune of Don’t Stop Me Now coming from the jukebox. They reached into their jackets or pockets for what Wyn and Mune could only assume were weapons.

“Tonight, I’m gonna have myself a real good time I feel alive And the world, I’ll turn it inside out, yeah…”

Mune could not unsee the holovid they and Zig watched with Carr only a week prior… They arched a brow at the bartender, “Are you sure about this?”

Well then… Mune thought, slowly turning in their seat until they openly faced the rest of the bar. They leaned back, elbows resting on the bar top.

It was clear their ambushers did not expect the random rabble to enter. It was poor planning on their part, really. It was a bar, after all. Their weapons remained drawn, at the ready, resting in laps in hands slick with anxiety-induced sweat. Mune wondered at the anxiety. How much did they know about whom they’ve been sent to intercept? It could have just been the anxiety of being on the precipice of a fight. The Shistavanen wondered how long it had been since they, themself, had felt that sort of anxiety before a fight.

Analyze another time, they reminded themself.

Their muzzle slowly split into a sultry grin, giving the twitchy ambushers what could only be described as bedroom eyes. “One of you boys going to buy a girl a drink?” Considering their voice was not necessarily the most masculine anyway, something more neutral, but they pitched it to sound more feminine in the moment.

Was the Shistavanen flirting with them or daring them to try something? They glanced at each other. One of them actually got up and started toward the bar, toward Wyn and Mune. His blaster was tucked into his pocket.

Mune knew exactly where it was.

The boisterous new arrivals did not. Nor were they picking up on the tension in the room. The Bothan and Zygerrian descended upon the bar. Trailing behind were their buddies and pals, like locusts, closing upon the crop of booze and liquor that the bar promised, and a very confused barkeep.

The man, a Cathar, was standing in front of Mune, glaring down at them, none too thrilled. “And what will the lady have?”

Mune’s eyes flicked past him to his buddies. They remained tense, ready to go. The group were practically vibrating with the need for action. “I highly doubt you are getting paid enough for this. Call it off, and maybe we can have ourselves a drink or two, hmm?”

With the mental note to stay by the walls, Mex moved away from the jukebox and towards the vacant table in the corner. It seemed a good place to shore up a quick defence using the table should things not go their way. Taking a seat, they slumped their bag next to the chair to sift through their belongings. A blaster pistol was subtly removed, keeping it under table inconspicuously - ready for a shootout. Surprisingly enough, it wouldn’t be the first time the verpine had witnessed a bar brawl were it to go down.

Even with the seemingly random revellers entering the place Mex was primed to open fire. When survival is at stake bystanders couldn’t remain an obstacle.

Nicfer cursed under her breath outside as Wyn spoke in her mind. If she didnt have to stay hidden she would’ve destroyed the trash bins next to her with “explosive” and “completely nessary” force. If she was just going to be told to stay away when things were happening, why was she even here?

For a minute she thought about just rushing in. To prove she was more than just someone to keep watch, but even she didnt like the idea of rushing in blind to a situation. She should’ve just gone in with everyone else. The urge resurfaced to destroy the bins. She also had the thought to toss her comm peice. People in this group seemed to work entirely off telepathy, which might be why her message went unacknowledged earlier.

If you wanted to sideline me, I could’ve stayed on the ship…

…

…

Holding position, sir.

Nicfer didn’t know if her annoyance came through the telepathy, but she was positive the snark would at least. As she waited to hear what she was to do next, she charged her blaster to make sure it was ready for action. She also double checked her connections from her targeting hud to her gauntlet was still working. Any backup would be a large group and a swarm of whistling birds would thin their numbers and make them think twice.

Mune rose from their seat. The Cathar was frowning, clearly confused. The Shistavanen leaned in and whispered with a grin, “Sorry, looks like I will have to take a rain cheque.”

They were out the door before the man could even think to respond. Mune fell into step with Wyn, a swish in their step as they walked with a mischievous grin firmly on their muzzle. The Human handed off the datapad before eyeing the Shista in their peripheral vision. “A Cathar?”

“I have had to seduce worse for information,” Mune said plainly.

“Worse… actually, I’m good, no need to go into detail,” Wyn quickly corrected.

“I was not planning on supplying detail,” the Shistavanen shot the man a cheeky look, his eyes alight with mirth.

As much as they teased, their ears followed the sound of scampering on the rooftops. “What do you propose we do about our eavesdropper? Shall we have our delightful Zeltron shadow them, perhaps?” Mune made sure they pitched their voice low when mentioning their hidden teammate. There was no point in giving away her position.

With the tension easing up, Tex eased their posture. They always hated the anxiety before a conundrum. People were unpredictable… This is why they preferred droids.

When Wayne and Lok made their way over with a technical conundrum, the verpine quickly stashed their blaster. Practically chomping at the bit to take a look they grabbed towards the datapad before Wayne even took a seat. So enamoured with the encrypted device they paid no mind to the eavesdropper. The team could deal with that.

[Slicing: 11]

Remaining still only a moment to appraise the device, they quickly pulled out what looked to be a code cylinder from their toolbelt. Plugging it into the datapad’s side port cause the interface to flash on with a maintenance GUI. An executable was run, loading in a decryption algorithm Mex wrote themself. When the interface closed, all of the data was accessible for the group’s perusal. They made it look easy. Unplugging the device, they stashed it back on their belt and turned the datapad to the other two at the table.

“Hi Wayne, Coordinates. Place. Contact. Full access.” They chattered proudly, tapping on the device as if to focus everyone’s attention on it excitedly.

Nicfer was already moving by the time Mune said anything. She stayed off coms and darted off after the interloper as fast as she could while remaining hidden from their view. Wyn could reach her telepathically right? That seemed to be his preferred method of communication.

Would it kill him to-… Stop. Focus. Do your job. Do your job so all people have to complain about is your personality.

She locked in then. No more lingering thoughts. No more sass. Just the mission. She continued to move at speed to where the spy was lurking and quickly picked up their escape route.

Shadow first. If spotted… Cross that bridge later.

She knew what she would have to do, but if you think about an outcome, you are going to force it. So she kept her thoughts on shadowing as she trailed after the clumsy lookout.

The Shistavanen’s fur bristled. Before Wyn could finish, they were already bolting toward the door.

“-trap.” Finished the Human.

Mune sensed Mex and Wyn on their tail. Nicfer could certainly handle herself well. Against how many foes? That was the question. The Oracle was unwilling to test how far the Zeltron could push herself. They were all going home in one piece. The Force pulsed through them, cool and electrifying through flesh and blood.

“I will run ahead! Catch up when you can!” Mune barked.

Muscles tightened up, they focused power where they needed it. Bone and sinew would have protested had they not become used to the sensation. It was like leaping into a river in winter. A shock that jolted through their nerves. Bone and muscle came undone and remade themselves as quickly. The Force howled through them, and before Wyn could begin to argue, a Cythraul with snow-white fur was navigating what footholds they could to leap onto the rooftop and track the Zeltron. They bolted after her, quicker than most bipedal creatures could hope to move, driven to get to the woman before she could come to any harm.

“Well then. That’s a thing. Tex, let’s go.”

The Human and Verpine navigated the dingy alleys through twists and turns. More than once, they were forced to push their way through refuse and debris, discarded and forgotten. It made those alleys a veritable maze with shadows best not glanced into too long lest one saw something they could not unsee.

Mune needn’t worry themself over such obstacles. They moved with ease along the same path taken by the Zeltron, which in turn was the path taken by their eavesdropper. It was at once obvious that the eavesdropper knew these hidden routes better than the team from Dajorra.

The Cythraul’s ears picked up the sound of the gathering ahead. They slowed, pads treading softly on gritty duracrete and shrapnel. The predator knew well that it would serve no purpose to barrel headlong into danger. Spirits preserve me… They took a moment to roll amongst the filth and detritus until they could pass as a stray animal. Slipping from the shadows, they edged around the bustle of thugs, tail and ears down, making themself look as small as they could as they scavenged.

If things got too hairy for Nicfer, the Oracle would be ready. No one hurt their packmates. Mune kept the Zeltron in their peripheral vision, noting mentally the position of what looked to be a hostage. Their contact? Hmm…

“-trap.”

By the time it came through, it was all too late and the trap had been sprung.

You don’t say? Here I thought they were throwing me a supprise party. She thought to herself.

Pissed having fallen for such an obvious trap, Nicfer debated on if it would be less of a hassle to just be killed in this back alley or face the ridicule of being the only idiot on the team. She decided that they’d likely still speak ill of her if she died, so living was the only real option. At least they were using comms again. She pulled he hand away from her saber and held her hands out in front of her and put on her best panicked face.

Show time.

“Woah, woah, woah! No need for all this. Seven people for me? I’m honored, but it’s unessary.”

As she talked she let her targeting system start acquiring targets for her whistling birds housed in her vambraces.

If stealth fails, confound them with bantha poodoo.

“I’m not really working here. I’m in more of a forced labor situation. Guarnetee work on your crew, and I can get the rest of my captors to fall for the same trap. Easy money.”

Give them an offer too good to refuse with an obvious and easy way of double crossing me so they can keep the money. They should at least think about the offer.

She watched her visor finishing up the firing solutions on the targets.

Come on. Be as dumb and greedy as you look.

Although they weren’t really certain of how the people of Coruscant normally operated - this didn’t feel like they were blending in all too well. Lok turned into something else and the team was running down the alleys like maniacs in order to save their Bozo.

Almost scrambling past Wayne if not stopped by a quick outstretched arm, Mex listened to his instructions. With a short nod of acknowledgement, the verpine bent down to speak to squeak, chattering out some binary to the droid before patting it on the top of its chassis. Without further hesitation, the mouse droid barreled down the alley towards the group valiantly.

“Wheeeeewewewewwww!”

Like a fast predator, the droid made it to its target… lunging into it with ferocious force.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

The trandoshan looked down to the impotent droid reversing and driving into his boot over and over again before letting out a sneer and aiming its blaster away from the twi'lek and onto squeak, firing down towards the droid. Immediately Squeak was taken out of action with a shrill “Wheeeeeeew!” as it powered down. Hopefully that was the distraction they were hoping for.

The Cythraul went from benign scavenger to a blur of white fur from one breath to the next. The Trandoshan pulled the trigger, and Squeak shrilled. Mune forced the hostage and the gangster apart with four paws planted into the Trandoshan’s chest, the man was thrust backward, and the wolf was pushed into the woman’s back.

“The kark…?!” The Trandoshan stumbled back.

Almost in slow motion, the woman fell forward. Mune was twisting, even as they released their transformation–the Cythraul unravelling, even as four paws landed, so they were shielding her. The Force was quickly redirected, and Squeak was snapped up. The blood pounded in Mune’s skull, their heart hammering in their chest as they rapidly went from one power to the next. Forepaws became hands. Cythraul became Shistavanen with a ripple of sinew, flesh and bone. Mune gritted their teeth but grasped quickly, forged their barrier and thrust it outward.

Nicfer’s bracer locked onto multiple targets.

The Trandoshan, off-balance, squeezed the trigger in rage, his aim wild. More than one shot sends ripples through a barrier almost too late to protect the three within (though the little droid had seen better days, certainly.)

Eyes were off of Nicfer in the confusion, weapons were coming up–coming up to aim where Mune shielded the Twi’lek and the droid both.

The Oracle’s hastily thrown barrier would be unable to take the brunt of so many plasma bolts had they the opportunity to take aim and squeeze their triggers. Mune caught Nicfer’s eye. They were trusting her… or was it her tech they were trusting? Two paths branched out from that point, and they were actively betting on Nicfer.

Distractions in place and the last minute barrier thrown up, Nicfer fired. The birds flying out in quick spirals to their targets. Necks and under the chin were the popular targets it seemed as the mercenaries erupted with small explosions. Almost more like pops before dropping.

The only one left alive it seemed was the Trandoshan. The bird flying into his side opposite of where the hostage was. Nicfer didn’t want to risk the hostage, so he used the Trandoshan’s body as a shield for her.

Holding her hand out, she reached out through the Force and forced the scaly brute face down in the dirt.

“Done. Witnesses dead. Hostage saved. Leader ready for questioning.”

She didn’t look to any one as she spoke.

“Or whatever.”

Mune permitted their barrier to shimmer and fade back into nothingness. Taking a moment to channel energy back into themself, they rose and helped the woman back to her feet. “Nice shot, Emma. I am grateful for your choice of armament and your skill.”

From the alley, Mex and Wyn emerged, stepping around and over the crumpled bodies of the thugs. It was certainly a scene, one that would certainly draw unwanted attention if anyone happened upon them. The Transdoshan’s hands clung to his mangled side, blood staining his hands. The flow of blood showed no sign of slowing.

“Do we think we can get information from him before he leaves this mortal coil… or do I heal him?” Mune asked, making it clear the man had no say in the matter when their eyes met.

The Twi’lek, for her part, stared the man down with cold indifference. Had she a weapon, Mune had no doubt she’d have blasted him herself right about then. It was perhaps a good thing she didn’t–especially if they hoped to gain anything from their prisoner.

Mex knelt beside their droid, examining the damage.

“Sorry, Tex, I shielded him from any additional damage… I… do not know how much that mattered…” Squeak may have been a droid, but they were as much a pack mate on this mission as any of the flesh-and-blood members. “You did good, Emma. What do you think we do with him?”

If Nicfer was surprised that she was being asked, she did a good job of not showing it. She snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Hesitant to off him?”

“Your kill, your choice,” Mune stated matter-of-factly. “Though, yes, I hesitate to kill unnecessarily. He is no longer a threat as he is.”

“You may want to stop moving around so much, you’ll just bleed out faster,” Wyn quipped flippantly. “You’ll certainly save us having to dispose of you, of course.” It was like it mattered to him little or not at all how it played out.

“I’m safe to assume you are…”

“Your rescuers, yes! You can thank us later, my dear! Over a drink!” It was an indication that she should not, even now, indicate who they were. The walls had eyes and ears, afterall. Wyn put on his best charming smile.

“Of course,“ She waved the smile away.

“Things go as planed all time, you just don’t hear about it. Cause there’s less complaining.”

Nicfer pipped up from the corner as she worked on her vambraces that was now spent of whistling birds. Making sure nothing misfired or broke. She didn’t mean to fire all twelve shots, but every shot fired and she had no reloads on her. Nothing looooked wrong, but she was no expert. She gave up on working on the vambrace and put it back on. It could still eat blaster shots, so it still had a use.

“So more difficult. We should move now. The longer we wait, the longer we let them set up and lock down. So unless we have a layout here, we should go get eyes on the site.”

She was talking to whoever was listening as she was continuing to check her gear and make sure everything was still in place and secure after her ‘lets run head long into a trap’.

Mune listened in. As far as plans went, it was certainly serviceable enough.

“In a place like this, I have little doubt finding one to trust is an insurmountable task…” The Shistavanen’s ears splayed, “Why stay, then?”

The woman gave him a sharp look, one that softened after a moment. Her gaze flicked back to Wyn as if looking to the Human to confirm if Mune’s question was intended to be serious.

“I apologize, that was perhaps insensitive of me to ask…”

“Naïve, to ask,” Wyn corrected, not unkindly. “Not everyone has that kind of power.”

Mune’s ears flattened, and they glanced contemplatively away.

The Twi'lek regarded the white-furred Shista again before shaking her head and giving Wyn her full attention again. “If your plan is going to work, it’ll take a lot of luck. Depending on luck is a game for lunatics. Your mercs have skills… I admit, but…”

“I trust them. I like to think they trust me.” Wyn grinned, a wicked gleam in his eyes, “And the game of luck is my favourite game to play. Call me a lunatic…”

“Lunatic…” Nicfer mumbled, leaning over her vembrace.

“We got this,” Wyn finished, hand waving any worries away.

Mex sat with the team faced away and towards the rest of the bar, cross-legged on the stool as they tinkered with tools on the blasted mouse droid. The only thing that indicated they were still listening to the conversation was a slight twitch of their antennae when ‘tex’ was mentioned.

Scorched wiring was always time-intensive to fix. They had to cut short the wiring, then attempt to splice the remains, and that was if the wiring was long enough, they couldn’t just replace the wiring - where would they get it- unless… ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖᵘˡˡ ᶦᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍˢ, ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ ʷʰᵒ ʷᵃˢ ᵍᵒᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗᶦᶜᵉ ᶦᶠ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ. ᵀʰᵉ ʲᵘᵏᵉᵇᵒˣ ʷᵃˢ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᶦⁿᵈᵉᵗᵉʳᵐᶦⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵘⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ. ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᶦⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᶦⁿᵍ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᶠᶦⁿᵈ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵖᵃʳᵃˡˡᵉˡˢ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᶦˢ ᵃⁿ ᵒᵇʲᵉᶜᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᶦˢ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶦᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ. ˢᵘʳᵉˡʸ ᶦᶠ ᵃⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᶜʳᶦᶠᶦᶜᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ… ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃˡᵃˣʸ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶦᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ'ᵗ. ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᶦᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ⁿᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ˢʰᵒᵗ ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿ. ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᶦʳᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵍᶦⁿ ʷᶦᵗʰ. ᵂʰᵒ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᵇᶦᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵒ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵛᵉʳˢᵘˢ ʷʰᵒ ʳᵉᶜᵉᶦᵛᵉᵈ ⁿᵒᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ, ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡˀ

Looking back over to Wayne they chimed into the musing on trust. “Hi Wayne, I trust you.”

Nicfer looked up from her work and did a double take as she saw Wyn looking at her.

“Why are you looking at me? Last I checked I was to, ‘do as I was told’ and ‘not mouth off’. I’m giving you 50%. That’s more I give most people.”

The look changed from more surprise to annoyance and glaring.

“What more do you want? 100%? Not at these rates.”

Floor 1077

Power Facility

Nicfer had changed her outfit too. Armor would not do well in this situation. So she was in a set of fashionable clothes she could wrangle on short notice with a cloak to help conseal the blaster and saber she still had on her person. Walking into the power facility, Nicfer repeated the same thought like she did before.

Show time.

Storming into the power facility, she looked for a tool box with a near by maintenance worker. People were already starting to notice her presence, but no one said anything. Not yet. Her stomping gave the impression she was on a mission. Her pace showed like she was focused. And her expression screamed talk to me an perish.

Spotting her target of a toolbox with a worker near by. She grabbed the largest wrench in it and went to the nearest panel and started banging around like she was trying to get the panel open. It took seconds before people were b-lining for her location and trying to stop her.

“What are ye doin’!”

“How’d you get in here?”

“Someone call security!”

Nicfer tried not to smile as someone said the phrase she wanted. She wheeled around, wrench still in hand a pointing to the human worker that just spoke up.

“Yes!” She screamed, “Call security! Maybe then you will do something about the power to my apartment! I have been calling for weeks to get my problems fixed and I’m always told, ‘someone will be out tomorrow’. But no one shows up!”

She stomped her foot like a a child throwing a temper tantrum. The crowd was growing. Everyone loved to watch a crash out.

“So if YOU,” she pointed to the workers gathering, “won’t help me! I’m going to fix this myself!”

She turns to swing the wrench again and three more workers scream at her to stop. One of them grabs her arm and she had to fight the urge to make him eat the pavement with a quick throw.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!”

She glared at the one that had grabbed her wrist and uttered the words that struck fear into many a worker.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO MY FATHER IS!?”

By this point, more workers were coming to watch. It might not be all of them, but with most eyes on her, Mune should have a much easier time.

Mune could not help but grin. They would have to remember to compliment the Zeltron’s acting skills next time they were face-to-face, and the Shistavanen could speak words. The Cythraul kept low, a ghost moving through the shadows, keeping out of direct sight. Anytime someone thought they saw something unusual move in their peripheral vision, Mune was already gone. They moved with purpose, setting aside the mix of scents that teased their noses, ones that demanded to be investigated. One part of their brain was disappointed, the other focused with single-minded purpose.

“MY FATHER WILL HAVE YOUR JOBS!”

Mune was impressed with how loud Nicfer could yell.

They skirted around another huge machine, eyes scanning from the shadows. Stairs… there! Mune bolted from shadows into light and up the metal stairs, paws silent, over the edge of the landing. A head turned in their direction, but there was no longer anything to see, the Cythraul tucked tight against a wall, making themself small. The man’s eyes stared intensely at the stairway, his footsteps beginning to draw him forward.

“I WILL SPEAK WITH YOUR MANAGER!!!!!” Nicfer shrilled.

The man sighed heavily, muttering under his breath before turning and heading toward the raucous, regretting that promotion a month earlier.

The Shistavanen-turned-Cythraul sighed in relief, then continued forward. Left… then right… then… Mune eyed the console. Cameras? They frowned at the one in the corner pointed directly down at the console. Of course, why not? Was anyone watching it still with all that noise Nicfer was making? They skirted around the camera’s sight. They found a spot to get some height and analyzed the console.

Codes… of course. You are not a Slicer. Plan B it is.

Nicfer knew the signal for Plan B.

The Cythraul’s eyes flicked over the machines, counting quickly from their current position. Node G-20… G-21… 22… 23… Their eyes narrowed. The Force twisted muscle and flesh, sinew and bone. It was like releasing the air in their lungs; one moment they were a Cythraul, the next a crouching Shistavanen.

They took a few seconds to restore the expended energy before they redirected it. One hand, then the other opened, flames dancing along their fingertips. They rose, stepped forward into open air, the catwalk falling away as they dropped, the air whistling in their ears. One fireball, then the next whipped through the air. An explosion, node G-24, erupting into flame. It was not destroyed, but it was certainly not going to come back online all that quickly. The second fireball engulfed G-25. A second explosion.

Mune landed in a crouch. Their muscles tensing, the third fireball sparked to life between their palms. Mune exhaled, bringing their hands apart, the Force crackling before they hurled it through the narrow aisle. In the last moment, they flicked their wrist to change its direction, sending it barreling into G-23. That was it, their legs, as if spring-loaded, launched them forward, Cythraul replacing Shista, paws propelling them through smoke and flame.

Plan B it is, Nicfer mentally noted.

“YOU CAN’T EVEN KEEP YOUR FACILITY OPERATING PROPERLY! NOW THE PLACE IS ON FIRE!”

“Ma’am. Ma’am! You need to leave immediately! We have an emergency here!” The manager tried desperately to get the woman to go.

Security did not know what to do with her.

“USELESS! THE LOT OF YOU! USELESS!!!”

The grid faltered, whole sectors suffering power fluctuations as the system tried to switch to auxiliaries. There were multiple nodes out, and still other nodes were being overloaded by the sudden demand to compensate and failed themselves.

Floor 1077

Secure Server Farm Site

The waiting was always the worst part. What was stopping them from just strolling in? The stuffy shirts didn’t help either. Mex preferred to be light and agile, not stuffed in some fabric terror-weave made for the sole purpose of allowing people to hide whatever it was they had underneath it. The hat was tight, uncomfortable and was messing with their antennae. Once they were done with their assignment these rags wouldn’t be thrown away fast enough.

They stared at Wayne in anticipation of the power cut-off. Conversation wasn’t their strong suit, and their current predicament had hampered their ability to formulate anything stimulating to broach.

“…”

“… ₕᵢ…”

“…”

Suddenly, the power whined down to a stop, as folks began to animate and pull out flashlights to investigate the problem Tex tightened up, grabbing their pack with purpose. It was go time.

An access interface was nearby the stacks, Mex took the access card provided and slotted it into the card reader. The screen lit up, authenticating their credentials before acknowledging and providing them with a ‘Constructing profile…’ informative note. The system took a moment as it built a profile for Tex but eventually they were greeted with an options menu.

They re-routed the power successfully, and were able to provide an appropriate flag to investigate hardware faults in the grid, a team would be dispatched within one to three business days. That surely would give the team time to get out of the area, even if it meant a section stayed dark for a bit. Coruscant was a large place and often the needy were overlooked, it wouldn’t be anything new to the residents likely.

Because the responsibility privileges provided were for accessing the power grid, they found themselves restricted from finding the other files…

[Slicing: 4] Without thinking, they grabbed their previously used access code-cylinder and plugged it into the terminal. Normally, this by-pass executable would provide them with full access to the system… Normally… What Mex forgot to consider was whether the system had protections in place for external devices. Rookie mistake. The system displayed a condescending warning regarding the use of external devices on work machines, and their account was likely flagged for suspicious activity.

As quickly as it went in, Mex ripped out the code cylinder with an audible “Oops!” Which likely grabbed Wyn’s attention for a moment.

Mex now had limited time, the outside team was likely aware of something suspicious - so the verpine began typing furiously on the inputs, Mex would have to manually write a function to bypass the restrictions and grant them access to the rest of the system. It was going to be dirty, likely get them caught… but they needed the short access window to at the very least identify which data stacks to grab. Around thirty seconds later, they ran the executable which mex moved to be in the background of the interface. While it was running, Mex quickly began to navigate to the information suite and identify which data sets they were looking for.

“Hi Warren, we are looking for server stack CDR-3457. We require unit 2, 27 and 42 for a full data-set.” As they calmly relayed the info, the terminal displayed a final warning and locked them out of the system. Pulling their access card from the machine, they then quickly bent down and ripped the power cords from the system. Not only would this be good material to repair squeak, but would help delay the inevitable investigation on illegal system access.

They chimed in again. “Hi Warren, server farm is displayed on provided map. They are coming.”

“Emma” was currently upside-down with her head under the dashboard of a speeder that would fit them all. She was stripping wires to bypass the need of a key when the message came in. “Lok” would see “Emma’s” legs kick as she seethed and worked faster. Groaning loudly to help vent her frustrations.

“Oh yes, boss. I’ll correct your mistake. It’ll be like nothing was wroooong… Spark already you piece of-!”

The speeder’s engines roar to life. She got it running, but half the displays went dead.

“Done. Lok, time to go save the day and hopefully then go home. I can feel Zig tearing down my ships hyperdrive.”

Seeing half the displays out and knowing her bypass was the cause, she did the only logical thing.

“Man, this speeder is not well maintained. Half these readouts don’t work.”

She muttered once “Lok” was in the speeder before quickly getting the speeder airborne.

“Team ‘can get their job done properly’ is en route. What extraction point are you at or closest to?”

“Yes,” was Wyn’s response.

Yes? Yes what? Mune blinked, sharing a glance with Nicfer. The hell did that mean, crossed both their minds at the same time, reflected in arched brows. Nicfer turned her gaze ahead, paying attention to their surroundings as they sped along en route to the facility. Mune bit the bullet, figuratively, and opened the line back to the other Arconans, “Apologies, which extraction point?”

“Yes!” Wyn repeated louder.

“Yes is not an extraction point!” Nicfer yelled, turning sharply, rapidly closing in on the building.

“Go in the front…” Mune growled.

“You’re not serious.”

The Shistavanen closed their eyes and exhaled. “Front entrance…”

“You’re daft if you…”

“This is now a fight… one way or another. They will need to cut a path to us while we do the same. Warren, you understand?” Mune asked.

“That’s going to get messy,” the Human muttered through the comm. “I don’t like messiness.”

“The cost of tripping alarms, Tyris. You know, your brother is going to be judging you when he reads the report… Make sure our Verpine friend stays low… er.” The Shistavanen stared fixedly ahead, centering themself within the Force in preparation. The front of the facility came into view, and the speeder angled sharply downward. Mune’s eyes narrowed. “Adjustment. aim toward one of the upper levels and speed up. Warren, you catch that?”

Nicfer looked at her teammate dubiously.

“Busy, repeat.”

“Go up. You will find us.”

Mune focused. They closed their eyes, blocking out the sound of the speeder, the whistling of wind, and the grumbling of Nicfer next to them. Inhale… they drew on the Force flowing around them, through them, tying them all together. They exhaled. They drew the strands together and manipulated them, coaxed them into a form that would serve their purpose, serve to protect them and hopefully, the speeder. The Force swelled, the Oracle’s pulse quickened. Their heartbeat sped up. There was going ot be a lot of kinetic energy to

disperse. They sent the power outward, forging the barrier and shoring it up with as many layers as they could manage.

“This is the stupidest…” Nicfer began.

The speeder slammed into the face of the building. The two Arconans ducked down. Like everything else down here, the building was in poor repair on the outside. The vehicle, ultimately, was one big battering ram. The shock of the impact was a shockwave that rippled through the Shistavanen’s barrier. Their ears rang, their head pounded. Fractures spiderwebbed across the surface of the protective field, radiating outward. It held, if barely, as they and the speeder hit the floor on the other side of the wall, debris thrown outward to crash through other walls beyond the team. The speeder hit the floor, skidded and spun out. Nicfer’s hands were white-knuckled on their steering controls, eyes too wide. Mune was panting hard, blood running in a thin path from one nostril, the strain dizzying. With a violent shudder, the barrier fell away in fading shards of fractured glass.

The sound, the violent tremor that passed through the building. It was enough to draw some of the attention away from Wyn and Mex. Nicfer and Mune would have their hands full before long.

“It will still fly, right?”

“Somehow, yea. Are you fraking insane?!”

“You went along with it, one would question your sanity as well,” Mune rasped, climbing shakily from the speeder.

“You overdid it.”

“A minute or two and I will be fine, stay focused,” the Voidbreaker II Captain instructed.

There was a fight waiting for them. Their entrance was nothing to scoff at. They would have to make sure they put up a fight to match it.

Originally processing the dropping of aliases with a slight delay, Mex nodded in acknowledgement to Wyn’s suggestion to get the door open.

Nonchalantly, Mex meandered over to the door, seemingly oblivious to the blaster bolts around them. Less time thinking about the scary stuff, the more time thinking about the problem at in front of them. [In a Pinch]

The electronic lock on the door would have to be taken apart. The dead-bolt triggered to keep people in, not let them out. Until whatever alert that was happening were stopped they were effectively stuck with the front entrance. But… everything had a way to take it apart.

[Mechanics 6] Pulling out a Hydrospanner, Mex endeavoured to take the delicate route. Attempting to find purchase behind the lock itself, they tried to pry off the protective casing to get at the mechanisms behind.

But it wasn’t working, and they were taking too long. Another blaster bolt flew by and locked them back into the problem at hand. Quickly looking for a more robust implement they tried to figure out something that would give them the force necessary… [Junker II, Crafting 13] A broomstick laying by the wall, a fire extinguisher from its case, a spring trigger, a sharp tack and some tape from their trusty tool-belt definitely not filled with junk. A quick application of some tried and true scavenger ingenuity they were able to make… Whatever this was: It had the shape of a hammer, but the impact point would be the bottom of the extinguisher.

Taking a quick step back with their new invention, they wound up for a swing and brought as much weight as they could to strike the lock casing, TWHACK! PSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! the spring trigger activated, puncturing the compressed flame suppressant outwards in an explosive burst. The broom handle shattered, the extinguisher flew up and hit the ceiling violently before crashing into one of the nearby server racks - the contents spread across the room in a haze.

But the casing protecting the lock was blown off.

Without a moment of delay, Mex yanked out the deadbolt and opening the fire escape. The fire suppressant that was now impeding vision as an unintentional byproduct of a smokescreen, they ran back to awkwardly grab Wyn, narrowly avoiding blaster fire. “Hi… door open!”

Nicfer was busy trading blaster fire with the “mercenaries” that came to deal with herself and Mune. Nicfer was not keen on moving to meet Wyn as she wanted to keep their escape vehicle near and free. The moment they left, it was going to be swarmed and useless to them. But the idea of remaining static and in place as they were trying to escape made survival instinct screaming at her to run and save her own hide.

“Look, all I’m saying is if we had them jump from a window, I could have caught them.”

If there was a responce from Mune, she missed it as one of the more brutish thugs got ready to throw a grenade at her position. He got it half way through the air before Nicfer popped up from her cover and thrusted forward with the palm of her free hand. Her mind willing the grenade to stop and fly back the way it came. The Force obliged, though Mune might feel her skill felt more like a brute force hammer than anything graceful or precise. The grenade shot back into the hall and detonated. Collapsing the passage and rendering that passage impossible to traverse easily. And also free of mercenaries.

“Don’t use grenades in close spaces! If you can’t aim, stick to full auto or scatter blasters to compensate you idiots!”

Nicfer ducked back down as blaster fire peppered where her body had just been.

“Where was I? Oh right. Catching them in the speeder would’ve been easy. So long as they told me the right side of the building. And the timing was right.”

The Zeltron chose not to bring up the fact that she really only needed to catch the one with the data. That “joke” would not have landed even if they were not under fire.

“Wayne… Tex…” Nicfer shouted into her ear peice. “Your ride is here but if these idiots keep using explosives, we are going to run out of ways for you to get to us. Please tell me you are close. You have already lost a star as a passenger due to not being at the meeting point on time.”