A Gambler's Tale Part 1: The Heist

[Gambler]

((OOC: The OOC thread is located here.))

The day was drawing to a close on Corellia, where the various spacecraft of industry made their homes in the sky. The continuous fog of freighter fuel was thinning as fewer and fewer ships remained airborne, leaving the sun to set alone. Red and violet rays lit up the clouds, breathing new life into the evening. While the daily passersby left the streets, a new crowd bubbled to the surface. Hookers filled the corners, thugs the alleys, along with various sorts of criminals, gamblers and other citizens, all with agendas of their own.

Ryiek Lancer was one such criminal. Making his way down the street with the cowl of his heavy coat pulled up, he cut a suspicious figure. He rolled a fedora in his hands, fingering a silver inlaid turtle on the brim every few passes. Eventually, his feet brought him to an old cantina at the edge of civilization. Old, perhaps, but not the general cesspit most establishments fell into. The years gave it a vintage feel rather than a seedy one.

The cantina might not have been the most fashionable joint of the bunch, but it had a certain well-to-do air about it. Everyone from the patrons to the bouncers had a professional look, almost businesslike. The owner and part-time bartender of the joint, Caleb Mickey, could have made it into any blue collar dinner party with only a few questioning glances. His brown hair was cut in the local fashion, just long enough to be swept back from the eyes, while his hazel eyes gave him a vague catlike appearance. If not for the apron around his waist it would be rather difficult to place him as the owner of the local bar.

But the Armistice was more than a simple bar. To some it was a way of life. The upper level was dedicated entirely to gambling, but not in the classic sense. The card tables and slot machines were managed with a measure of sophistication. Well-shaven men acted as bouncers near the velvet entrance to the upper ring. To get in, one must flash a token to the bouncers, and that token could only be purchased by Caleb Mickey himself.

While there was a minibar in the casino area, the majority of the ring was dedicated to the sport alone. If one was in the mood for heated conversation, he or she would leave the casino and take a walk down to the bar. Even then the debate would be settled in quiet undertones without disturbing other patrons.

In essence, the Armistice had two basic rules: civility and sophistication. Any who breached either of the rules would soon find themselves thrown from the cantina and barred from entering except at the owner's discretion. It was almost ironic that Ryiek had managed to stay on his feet and in the good graces of the cantina for so long. Usually, after downing a few drinks, he had a tendency to get rough. In most places such behavior led swiftly to a barfight, sometimes escalating to the point where one or more patrons find themselves face down in the back alley with a few bullets in their heads.

Yet, somehow, Ryiek had managed to keep himself in check during his stay. Therefore, his entrance into the cantina was not impeded in any way by the burly toughs outside. He made his newly customary way over to the bar, hanging the fedora over a stool and leaning heavily on his elbows.

"Have a nice walk over here?" Caleb asked. His hands held a piece of cloth and he was in the process of polishing the bar as he spoke.

"Always," Ryiek replied. "It's almost too quiet around here," he added after a moment's thought.

"There is plenty of action, if you know where to look."

"It's too... organized," he corrected.

"Not everywhere is as bad as Coruscant. Hell, I'd be bored too if I was used to running into some small-time gangbanger every time I walked five feet from my front door," Caleb said. "What you call quiet is what I call business. You might like the rowdy night life and dangers of Coruscant, but I'm just fine with my little cantina out here. The credits keep on rolling in at this rate and I'll be able to open a chain."

Ryiek laughed. "Not kriffin' likely. The day you open a chain of these civilized bars is the day I marry a prostitute."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What about that Lilly girl you were telling me about the other day?"

"What about her?" Ryiek's expression became serious. "She ran off with Sleven a while back. The day she comes back is the day--"

"The day you stop making shitty analogies?" Caleb mimicked, roughly imitating Ryiek's deeper voice.

"I suppose so, at that," Ryiek said with a laughing scowl.

"Anyway," Caleb began, pouring a drink for Ryiek, "you didn't come here to waste the night away chatting with me. What do you need?"

"Ah, glad you remembered." He took a sip of his ale before answering. "Remember that note I asked you to send out the other day?" Caleb nodded. "People should be arriving soon enough, but I want to make sure that what I wrote is... literate. Kind of hard to tell when you're puking cheap beer."

"Cheap?" Caleb scoffed. "Costs more than your sorry ass' worth." He shook his head, trailing off quietly. Ryiek quirked a brow. "Ah, right, the note." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, just give me a sec to pull it up."

He lifted a datapad from beneath the bar, tapping a password into it before handing the device to Ryiek. "This it?" he asked, sliding it across the bar.

On the screen, the message said:

"I'm looking for a few big time smugglers, criminals, gamblers, or whatever the hell you want to call yourselves to help me with a job. This'll be the biggest haul of your life, so don't pass the opportunity up. Come to the Armistice and ask for 'Ryiek.' The bartender will tell you where I am. This heist'll be worth more than your life, so don't pass it up. You want the details? Come to the Armistice."

It wasn't the most eloquent of requests, but it was the best Ryiek could come up with. It had taken several mugs of 'cheap' beer along with hours of frustration to decide what to write. He needed a crew to help him out here, but he only wanted the best. Unfortunately, he couldn't get the best without having contacts. He could only send notes along a few friends in the underworlds of Coruscant, Nar Shaddaa and a few other places and hope that someone halfway decent decided to take him up on the offer. It was a stretch, and it was the best he could do.

Years had passed since his last big pull, and he was beginning to feel rusty. He needed something to break him out of his retirement, something to put his name back on the most wanted list. Most of all, he needed a challenge. All of these little robberies and drug deals were fun, sometimes with a hint of danger, but none of them held a chip to his luck. It was past time to push the boundaries again. It was time to put his name up in lights.

"I'll be in the back," he said, nodding to Caleb. "You know where to send anyone who comes in looking for me, just do me a favor and have them leave their weapons here. I'm not a fan of bullets in my head."

 

[Dmitri]

Valentine Lockhart, commonly known as Doc Love, exited the casino with a bag full of winnings. Despite rumors around him, Doc Love did not cheat. He was patient, and only stayed in a round when he was certain he had a good hand; luck also played a big part in his success but he wasn't about to reveal that yet. He also was good at reading people. Gamblers who had a good hand generally glanced at their cards before placing them down onto the table quickly. People who didn't have good hands generally stared at their cards for a while, contemplating their move. It wasn't hard to spot amateurs, in Doc Love's opinion, because they easily showed signs of their thoughts in their facial expressions, and the tones of their voices.

Doc Love made his way to the bar. His blue hair swayed back and forth with each step he took. While he wore a white suit in public, he preferred his black pants and jacket when carrying out his role as the leader of Terminal, a smuggler friendly network that helped first time smugglers. Terminal used these people to gain influence in smuggling rings and gain contacts. However, in his opinion, his two greatest skills were his hacking skills and his medical knowledge.

Doc Love headed towards the bar. He flashed a token at the bouncers, who stepped aside to let the blue-haired human pass. His scarf flapped behind him, nearly touching the bouncers as he went by.

Valentine walked up to the bar and plopped down on a stool. Glancing at the bartender, he ordered a Tarisian ale. As the bartender handed the drink, Valentine started a conversation.

"I was told about a 'game' starting soon," said Doc Love. "Where's the 'gamemaster'?"

Caleb directed him to the back.

 

[Lavi]

Sakari wanted a drink. Of course, he didn't want some street vendor's pitiful wares: the local cantina usually has a nice selection of drinks to mull over. With that in mind, Sakari was set to enter the nearest cantina, the Armistice. It looked a lot cleaner than the typical cantina, and that was a little unsettling.

Sitting down at the counter, he took a long look at the list of beverages that the bar had available. At least the drinks were familiar. Sakari ordered his favorite drink, setting down the necessary credits to pay for it.

"If someone is looking to hire a spacer, you can direct them to me," Sakari told the bartender.

"Actually, there's someone looking for spacers to hire," the bartender said. "Out back."

He gestured to one of the bouncers, who escorted Sakari to 'the back' of the cantina. The smuggler wasn't sure exactly what that meant, so he kept a hand ready to defend himself in the case that 'his kind' isn't welcome.

 

[Demiurge]

Arkon was someone who could not resist the allure of risk. However, for all his accumulated wealth, Arkon gained no thrill from putting his currency on the line. Credits were all over the galaxy, even the lowest of scum could gather an amount from something as insignificant as chance. There was no thrill in it. No, Arkon was one who gambled, not with his credits, but with his life. It was the temptation of facing insurmountable risks. And when the time came where someone metaphorically stood before him and presented to him a challenge, the man of masks could never bring himself to refuse.

The message was simple; come to the Armistice for the heist worth more than you're very life. And thus, Arkon heeded the call. Corellia was among the greatest of the Core Worlds, the center of the galaxy to which not even the illustrious Hutt Empire could compare. But for all its splendor, Corellia was equally as much of a breeding ground for underworld activity. In the past, Arkon himself had hosted black market deals and corporate sabotage within its very capital. Indeed many of his skills, while acquired on Depatar and other Fringe worlds, were honed across the galaxy, on worlds such as Corellia. This was most so with his skills as a master thief, slicer, and counterfeiter.

Now planetside on Corellia, Arkon made his way to the Armistice. He knew a bit about it; aside from it being a casino and cantina, its membership was exclusive - it required a token to enter, which were identification cards unique to its bearer. Arkon himself had created a counterfeit copy of one before coming to Corellia, however, he lacked a coded security strip embedded into the token. The codes of these strips were custom made, and for all intents and purposes, non-replicable. However, they were also electronically programmed, and that was all the leverage Arkon needed. Arkon had fingered out one of the bar's regular visitors on the streets near the Armistice, an nobleman who appeared to be dressed as one of the lower castes of Corellia, perhaps being a knight or baron.

As he walked toward him on the streets, Arkon passed him by, masterfully pickpocketing his inner pocket as he turned his body to achieve the split-second angle required. Just as quickly as he approached, Arkon had disappeared, and walked up to the Armistice casino, presenting his perfectly legitimate token. As he passed by the guards, most of them assuming he had been an alien with specific breathing requirements, the thief glanced back to see the Corellian nobleman being stopped at the entrance or possessing a counterfeit token, and Arkon grinned as he turned forward and continued onward. He always loved when his executions were flawless, and unknown.

The man's identification was indeed on the counterfeit token, just as Arkon's was on the legitimate one, despite switching identification tokens. As Arkon switched the false token with the real one, he used a customized electromagnetic polarization inverter, which reversed two identical electromagnetic seals on singular forms of electronic identifications. Hence, while Arkon did indeed switch tokens, the electronically embedded information had their signatures inverted, which caused Arkon's information to be switched to the legitimate token, and the Corellian nobleman's information to be embedded on the counterfeit token. Arkon's con was free from imperfection, as he entered the casino without a sign of trouble.

As the master thief walked up to the bar, he sat down on one of the stools. "Bartender?" Arkon asked, as his mask's voice scrambler distorted his voice and modified it to make it sound as if half a dozen or so voices were speaking as one. "I'd ask you for a drink..."Arkon started, as he pulled out several credits and laid them on the bar counter, "but you could probably see the 'sense' in that." Arkon said, making reference to the fact that he was wearing a helmet. He then looked about, as if examining the others around him. Arkon always had an analytical mind, always overly cautious and thinking ahead of acting. "I'm looking for someone; an old friend of mine. Ryiek." Arkon then stared intuitively at the bartender. "Do you know him?"

Caleb eyed Arkon for a moment, and then put down a glass he was cleaning.

"Weapons." Caleb said, holding out his hand, "I've been doing this long enough to know you're packing, and I know you've been doing this long enough to have known this was coming."

Arkon then reached into his coat with both of his hands and pulled out his two E-77s, spinning the heavy pistols around his fingers as he gripped them by the barrel and handed them off to Caleb. "Naturally," Arkon said, as he was led to a back room, "Not a scratch." As Arkon made his way into the back room, he spoke out as he saw Ryiek, "So, the man of the hour himself, with the heist of a lifetime." Arkon said, folding his arms in anticipation.

 

[Dravenkt]

Hargor was by most measures a successful man. He had started out as a trader of household items and swiftly discovered that there was little profit to be made in such a business. His profits had been tiny and he had been on the verge of quitting when eh took a hint from a less than credible friend and began running spice for a few local gangs. His purse had filled with credits and he didn't need to do any of the heavy lifting or leg work involved. Indeed he had began to think of himself as a somewhat important individule, gathering about himself a reputation as a trustworthy smuggler.

Now he wished he had quit years ago...

Sprinting through the streets as fast as his legs could carry him he sought to lose his pursuer in the twisting allies and winding streets. he was sweating freely. He lamented over how swiftly his life had spiralled out of control and how he had began exploring the market for spice on his own. Now the gangs had found ot and dispatched someone to deal with him. But old Hargor was not finished yet! He chuckled as he clutched the data pad to his chest. He had one last chance at escape. One final attempt to make his fortune. He turned the corner, tasting free air on his lips.

...Moments before he ran head first into a metal giant. Hargor toppled to the ground and with a scream tried to turn and scrabble in the other direction, his chubby hands groping at the ground. A large, metal encased hand seized him by the collar and like a limp doll lifted him from the ground. He felt himself being carried over to the ledge that dropped down onto the next level. An open air cantina sat perhaps fifty feet below, the drinks unaware of the man suspended above them. "Please! Whatever they're paying you. I'll double it." He screamed, gripping at the armoured wrist. " Look look look... I'll make it worth your while. I know someone with twice the price on my head! Just look." He thrust out the data pad, cursing inwardly. If only he could get the brute to let him down long enough to reach the hold out blaster in his boot. " See! He's planning somthing! And he's already worth twice what I am!"

Tears were running freely down his cheeks now, but a glint of hope reached his heart when the metalic voice behind the cold, inhuman helm reached his ears. " Where is he?" Old Hargor squeeked slightly as he spoke. " The Armistice! It's a cantina of sorts. It's exclusive. You'll need a token to get in. Take mine! It's in my pocket." Dropping the data pad his armoured tormentor fished around in his coat pocket untill he found the token. Too bad for him they were all unique and he wouldn't get past the door. "You'll let me go now right?" He was close to begging. " The Hands... They'll take your word I'm dead! and ...and I'll vanish! You'll never hear from me again! Please let me go." Even behind that cold mask Hargor could feel the scarred lips twisting into a smile. The armour fingers uncurled from him and the last thing he saw in this world was the ledge racing away from him.

A few hours later Dravenkt arrived at the desginated cantina. Flashing the token breifly to the bouncers. They took one look at him and thought better of stopping him. Most bouncers aren't paid enough to deal with someone -that- dangerous. Approaching the bar Dravenkt gestured the man behind it over. " Ryiek?" He said this just as a man beside him muttured the same name and his head swivvled to study the man. He had a typical hive scum look, but his face didn't register with any names. He was directed to a back room and admitted only after surrendering his weapons and his hold out blaster.

Inside there was someone already waiting. Dravenkt didn't bother making any form of greeting. He just moved out of the way of the door and stood, waiting for whoever else would show up in greedy hope of findng more than one bounty.

 

[Dread]

Flash back

A desk sat in the middle of a small room, two matching metallic chairs on either side of it. Above the desk, swinging to a breeze, three light blubs hung on wires. The room was windowless, the breeze coming from a single air filter at the side of the room. It was continuously pumping in air cold enough to bite at the toes of the two men sitting in the chairs.

Balor sat cross legged in his chair, emerald eyes staring across the desk with a coldness that matched the rooms temperature. Long strands of platinum blond hair tapped at his shoulders, glowing in the glaring light, reflecting it onto his outfit. As most days he wore a black suit. It was noticeably spotless, not a spec of dust had settled on it. Not a single crease could be pointed out at first glance. He seemed almost decent, professional, though the crooked smile on his lips clashed with his stare in a way that swept away any thoughts that he was a decent man.

A young man sat in the other chair across from Balor. His body shook violently enough to cause the chair to shake with it. His attire was not as fancy as Balor's. Brown rags that could barely be considered clothing clung to his light skin. Though his head was shaved, newly grown brown fuzz lined the top of his crown. Almost as dark brown as his set of eyes that stared at the ground, though one could barely notice their color as his eyelids had almost shut closed.

Ren was the boys name, though Ren wished it wasn't.

“How many lights are there?” Balor asked.

“Th...three.” Ren answered in a pathetic murmur.

“Wrong.”

"...but there-"

A slim finger of Balor's pushed a button on a device in his hand. The moment the button clicked shocks were sent through Ren's body, just under his skin. Ren's reaction was as expected, he let out a blood-curtailing scream that could burst a persons eardrums if it was just a tad bit higher. Balor's finger released the button just as Ren ran out of breath.

The boy took in one great breath, and wrapped his arms around his body. Every time he was shocked he had felt his heart stop and restart. It terrified him. “Please no more!...I don't know anything!” Now he was reduced to begging, even after hours of playing the role of the tough guy.

“Hm? Oh," Balor stopped to think for a moment. "I know you don't.” He finally admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

“THEN WHY? Why all the questions, why all this!?”

One of Balor's eyebrows raised, “Does it matter?” All of it was to get to the boys father. Break him down by breaking Ren down, so that he would give himself up to Balor's employer. However, Balor had decided to withhold that little bit of information for now.

The second Balor's words caught Ren's ears, Ren's body stopped shaking, his eyes somehow seemed to turn a darker color, and then he started to weep uncontrollably. It may of been that Balor had reached the boys breaking point.

With, what seemed to be, a successful session, Balor looked at his wrist. Though he had no watch, he stood from his chair a second later and spoke up, “Well," His voice changed tune, chirping happily, "it looks like our times up for today. We'll have to continue our little conversation some other time.” Before he left, Balor 'crawled' his fingers on Ren's shoulder and leaned in close to his ear, “I'll be sure to start right where we left off.” He chuckled.

Ren continued to sob, his cries turning into ragged breaths.

Once outside the room Balor took out his datapad from his locker. After entering a few codes to unlock it he was reminded of the day. Today credits would be sent into his account, a unpleasing amount as always. His skills were not being paid for what they were worth. Even if he loved his job, he felt insulted every time a pay day rolled around.

That lead his thoughts back to the note he had come across, the one from his last visit to the Armistice. Maybe the pay for that job would match his worth, then again, maybe nothing could match his worth. After his moment of self-pity he evidently ended up deciding it was worth going in and checking it out.

End Flash Back

Balor stood beside a wall in the back room of the Armistice, having arrived for the meeting just after a few others. A black suit alike to his work clothing wrapped tightly around his masculine yet lanky body. A few of buttons were undone and his tie was missing. The only thing about him that seemed in order was his platinum blond hair, which was tied back in a loose pony tail, allowing his pointed ears to be on full display.

Out of boredom he moved a credit through his fingers at a amazing speed. No doubt drawing on his force sensitivity without thinking much of it.

 

[Aluminum Falcon]

Cassus walked casually down the Correlian street, eyeying the street whores and winking at them as he passed by. He wore his usual attire, all of his gear save job specific equipment. Most of the time, Cassus was a bounty hunter, today however, he was whatever this Ryiek needed him to be, considering the amount of creds that he'd gone on about.

He hadn't shown up because he was a criminal, he showed up because he knew he had skills that made him the best, and that if this Ryiek was going to pull off a job this big, he would need Cassus to get it done, which would help him out if different cuts were involved. Cassus brought a lot of things to a table, his brutish stature just the tip of the iceburg. He arrived at the cantina after strolling down the street and flirting a bit with a few of the hookers, that had stopped when they refused to offer him freebies though.

"Hows it goin' fellas?", said Cassus as the guards nodded him in.

He approached the bar and motioned for the bartender.

"Gimme a Krayt special, and it better taste like it came from Mos Eisley.", said Cassus.

The bartender gave him a sore look before pouring his drink and handing it to him. He stood for a minute or two staring at Cassus as he drank, waiting for the credits.

"Fine fine, here you greedy bastard. What happened to tabs anyway?", joked Cassus.

The bartender grabbed the credchip Cassus handed him and started to walk away.

"Wait a sec.", Cassus said, the bartender turned around and walked back to him. "I'm looking for some guy named Ryeik."

The bartender nodded towards the back and motioned for another guard to take Cassus to 'the back'. Before they moved Cassus relinquished his toys. When they arrived the guard walked back to the front, and Cassus walked in, sat down at a table, and propped his legs up while he sipped on his drink.

 

[Gambler]

The back room was dimly lit, with only a single table in the center and a few chairs littered around it. At one end of the table, Ryiek sat, waiting with his fingers steepled. When people finally began streaming into the room one at a time, he felt a smile beginning on his lips. Steeple forgotten, he rolled his fedora around a finger. The silver turtle glittered whenever it passed the light.

"So the gang's all here," he said. Six other people were strewn about the room, some with the cut-and-dry look of smugglers, others with the armor of mercenaries, but he spared them only a cursory glance each. What truly caught his attention was the man with a map of stars for a face. His body, in the light, appeared to be liquid mercury, held together loosely by glittering points throughout his body.

"Hope you don't blow our cover," Ryiek said with a smirk. "We're going to need to get in and out without much hassle. That is, unless you find the prospect of fighting through some eighty or so guards appealing."

He looked at the rest of them, trying to weigh up their skills and weaknesses with a glance. It was tricky, but their builds told a lot about their way of life if nothing else. The big guys were obviously mercenaries, while the scrawny sticks were smugglers, or some other kind of criminal. Then the guy with the star map for a face... that seemed to ring a bell in his memory. He could have sworn that the description matched a name he heard at one point. Alkan? Something like that.

"Alright. Let's get started, then." He raised his voice to the bouncers just outside of the room. "That's enough for now. If anyone else shows up, let them in quietly, or deny knowing about me if they don't look like they could pull the job off." He waited for them to nod their assent. "Oh, and tell Caleb the same while you're at it. Next person who asks about me gets some of that cheap beer," he said with a grin.

"Anyway," he began, turning his attention back to the men in the room alongside him. "Here's the deal: we're hitting up the Galactic Bank. It's one big vault of cash sitting stationary an hour or so away from orbit. I know a couple of guys who were more than willing to give me some blueprints of the place. They say there are only fifty guards in there, with an RSF station right here. If we're seen, we have less than an hour to get our asses out of there." He gave everyone a chance to absorb that last piece.

"With that settled, we're going to hit them up for everything we're worth. I'm not talking some ragtail heist here. I'm talking getting us a couple million creds each. That bank has connections to any number of private accounts, along with hundreds of public access ports among other things. I have a few siphons with me that can make the transfer, but it will take a few minutes to crack the accounts.

"That is assuming we get to the main vault. There will be around twenty guards at the main vault with others strewn all over the place. My info says there are only fifty, but I'd put my estimate somewhere around eighty. This is the Galactic Bank, after all.

"Luckily for us, all of the side halls and chambers have deployable blast doors in case of an emergency. If we can get someone to the security grid we can activate those blast doors, but once again, there's a catch. There are around five guards up in the security room, probably more depending on when we arrive. We can only afford to send one person up to the grid to hack it, so that person is going solo.

"Once the grid is dropped, the guards will be on lockdown. The blast doors might be able to keep a couple of them at bay for a while, but the ones in the main vault are the problem. We simply don't have the firepower to take them out cleanly. If we fight them, it'll be a firefight, and we won't be getting out of there for a while. On the bright side, if we have someone up in the security room, that person can find a way to get to the communications center. Once there we can jam their communications for a time, hopefully before they send out a signal to the RSF.

"If everything goes as planned, this should take about four hours. We'll walk out of there richer than any of you have ever imagined. Unfortunately, we'll have to go cold turkey once we're out, so as soon as we dock we go our separate ways. The names you have now? Forget about them. Come up with something new and exciting for the high life. For a while we'll have bounty hunters riding our asses, and unless we vanish they'll take us down," he said, clearing his throat a bit. "Also, if anyone has an ICEbreaker lying around, that would be great." He leaned forward, hands making a steeple on the table.

"Any questions?"

 

[Lavi]

Sakari saw that he wasn't alone in this endeavor, which added a little to his discomfort. He initially thought they were thugs, until the one sitting at the table began detailing the heist. The plan was ambitious, though there was something he didn't like.

"Four hours is a long time," he commented. "It sounds like you're exaggerating and downplaying the bank security's competence at the same time. You sure your source is reliable?"

 

[Dmitri]

Doc Love faced Sakari. "Not really. The Galactic Bank is obsessed with protocols. While that can be seen as an advantage, it also helps us, since we'll be able to plan based on that."

He looked at Ryiek. "I can hack the security systems. I'm a patron at the Galactic Bank and a doctor. The security room is near the safety deposit boxes so I can just sneak over to them after I hack the system. Suspicions won't rise if I check in to access my safety deposit box beforehand. As for an ICEbreaker, I might be able to obtain one through my contacts."

Doc Love was liking the idea of robbing the bank he was a member of. He paid insurance that would pay for the occassion that the bank was robbed and his money stolen. If this worked out, not only would he be paid for the heist, but he'd get his money back plus insurance money. This was looking good so far.

 

[Demiurge]

"Hope you don't blow our cover," Ryiek said with a smirk. "We're going to need to get in and out without much hassle. That is, unless you find the prospect of fighting through some eighty or so guards appealing."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. There are..." Arkon said, as his holo skinsuit changed his appearance and voice to mimic that of Ryiek's, "A great many faces I can take." Naturally, his suit didn't change, but the alteration of his 'skin', 'face' and 'voice' made clear what he meant. As Arkon changed his holosuit back to its original form, he listened intently at what Ryiek spoke.

"Before we get into the details of the plan, I'm curious to know; how are you proposing we get inside the Vault to begin with?"
​

 

[Dread]

"...we're going to hit them up for everything we're worth... "

Those words were exactly what Balor wanted to hear; to say the least, he liked the sound of the idea. The heist would be huge. Although, no doubt, troubles would arise personally for Balor, because of his current employer. He would have to completely vanish off the face of the galaxy if he wanted to do this. Despite the risks playing in his mind, he continued to listen.

Most of Balor's concerns were brought to the table quickly after Ryiek finished. So Balor kept quiet, deciding to take a seat in a chair not too far from Ryiek, maybe a seat a little too close.

 

[Aluminum Falcon]

Cassus listened carefully to what Ryeik laid out. As he sat there he wondered how many times he had pulled something like this off before. From the sound of it, and by his lack of nervousness, this wasn't his first time involvement in this large of a crime. Cassus began examining the others present through his peripheral vision, looking each over. The one with the body suit confused the hell out of him, but he shook it off.

"How many guards did you say would be near the vault? Twenty? Thirty? Are you expecting me to take care of all of that by myself? Don't get me wrong I'm sure all you boys have skills in certain areas, but lets face it we know who will be doing most of the fighting.", said Cassus confidently.

Cassus paused for a moment for effect before continuing.

"I'm not one to turn down a fight, but I need to know that you can find a sure way to lessen those numbers. How sure are you that those blast doors will shut out enough of them?"

He still had his feet propped up on the table, and chugged the rest of his drink, clunking the glass on the table.

 

[Dmitri]

"We might be able to lessen the load by diverting them elsewhere," suggested Doc Love.

Doc Love explained his suggestion. If they cause somewhere, guards from many posts would be diverted over to handle the situation. The closer to the vault the better. Also, Doc Love could take a gas cannister with him when goes to access his safety deposit box. He could leave the cannister there when he leaves, thus the cannister will release a poisonous gas after Doc Love left. He believed he could get his hands on such an item, though Cassus would have to deal with anyone using breathing contraptions.

 

[Gambler]

Ryiek's smile was absolutely crooked. "There's always a simple answer to everything," he said. "To get in, well, we have a few options. We can attempt to lie our way inside, then proceed with the heist, or we could blitz our way in, hopefully landing before anyone figures out our intent and blasts us to hell." He put the fedora down and leaned forward, glancing briefly at the pasty skinned man who had decided to sit down a bit too closely to him.

"How we get in isn't all that important, to tell the truth. What matters is the guards. You're right," he said, nodding to the mercenary who had spoken. "Twenty of them versus the seven of us won't be a quick fight. That is, if we fight fairly. By the time we get to the vault, only five or so of us will be in the main group. Not very good odds. But, let's say that the person in the security room decides to send an emergency broadcast over the intercoms...

"What do you think the guards will do when they all hear, simultaneously, that the communications room has gone black? That the power grid is slowly falling, moving rather quickly to the main vault? I'm under the impression that they will be hi-tailing it out of there, leaving maybe a few dedicated guards behind, plus whoever gets trapped in the room behind the blast doors.

"It gets better too. Most of the rooms shut off by blasts doors can be vented into space. It was a security feature designed to stop the spread of fire or if someone had infiltrated the place," he said with a lopsided smile. "Since we're sending someone into the communications room and the security room, we all but have complete control of the vault.

"So yes, four hours. An hour to get there, at least an hour to return either here or some other port, and two hours to infiltrate the vault. I'm assuming that it will take at least half an hour to drain the accounts enough, which puts us at an hour and a half to get in, disable communications, capture the control room, and beat the shit out of whoever's left." It was that simple. "Which is all assuming that we get into the vault without being stopped. If that happens, we won't have time to worry about the communications or security room. If anyone has grenades, that would be a good thing to bring. Last time I checked, twenty armed guards don't exactly like having seven grenades tossed in their faces."

 

[Demiurge]

"Recklessness without a trace of subtlety. Not exactly my area of expertise... or preference." Arkon said in repliance. "we need somethig that wIll place us within optimal position within the station."
Arkon then revealed his idea to the group, "The Galactic Bank is a fortified vault, but like all baNks,They rely on technological procedures. Detection scaNs for motion and various spectrums of light. Guards are sparse, but it only takes one to sound alarm, and many of them are private contractors. That means ex-mi litary... or worse."

"In addition, being a vault, rotating chrono l ocks are a given. Even if we can get in, we need to time it to a temporal perfecti on, otherwise, not even a starcruiser's turbolasers will hreak those vault doors. But before that, we also need to trigger a partial Lock down, prevent a message from being sent out, and secure our escape."

Arkon remained silent for a moment, and then spoke up again, changing his appearance and voice to that of a looking Human male with green eyes and cleanly cut reddish brown hair, "I'll need a category-8 universal jammer, a distortion field emmiter, a handheld field security overloader, a 29L electromagnetic countermeasure, compact acoustic negation field emmiters and shadow casters for each of us, false touch and false eye pads, security blades, and an ICE breaker. I have some connections on Corellia and Talus that can get me what I need."

 

[Dread]

"So all of us are just going to hop on a ship and become butt buddies?" Balor finally piped in. Pausing to sit back in his chair and cross his legs. He kept his eyes fixated on Ryiek, the obvious to-be leader of their little rag-tag team. The only reaction he cared about was his, for the moment anyway.

Before he continued, his lips curled into a smile, "Excuse my sudden interruption, gentlemen. It seems this plan is taking shape nicely, but even so, I doubt it's foundation will hold the entire time through." His chin jerked to the side, gesturing towards the others behind them. "I'm already getting a bad feeling from this room. Someone or something may go array." Balor chuckled and waved his hand flippantly in the air. "You can go ahead and ignore me if you want to, but I wouldn't take my warnings lightly. I tend to be right about these things."

 

[Gambler]

Ryiek tapped his fingers, patiently waiting until everyone who had an opinion voiced it. He shared a mirthless smile with Balor before turning to Arkon. With a nod, he addressed the star faced man's concerns. "Reckless without a trace is how I roll, babydoll, and it has brought me through any number of heists up to this point. To be perfectly honest, people don't expect us to come in and rob them. Some of them are paranoid, but after a while with no run-ins with us they get cocky." He cleared his throat unnecessarily to keep everyone's attention on him.

"No one has ever attempted to pull a heist off the Galactic Bank. Most of us thieves stray away from something of that scale, because it is too secured. I might not be an armchair psychologist over here, but I'm pretty sure they won't be expecting us to break in and make off with the biggest haul to date," he said with a smirk that took in the entire group.

"We have every advantage save numbers. Getting in will be a joke. Either we bribe some of the guards or pretend to be some client checking in on our wad of cash in the back. From there we split up to the control and communication rooms, keeping a few people in the center to maintain our cover or take out any immediate resistance. Once that stuff is in our hands we only have to worry about the big group, and that isn't much of a problem. Bring one of those briefcase machine gun things and we'll mow them down in no time. Or, worst comes to worst, we start a firefight and sneak a guy or two into the vault.

"With all of that out of the way the only problem is our departure. Corellia might not be the best place to return to, but it's a start. We take the freighter down, rig it with some bombs, and blow it up on our way out. Maybe leave some empty credit chits on board to fry as evidence. From there we're home free." He sighed in an attempt to mask the exasperation he felt. The whole thing seemed blatantly obvious to him. He had hoped for a flexible group with ready connections and a surplus of equipment. Then they could have blitzed the bank and been gone within the night. But he could only make do with what he had.

He addressed Balor specifically next. "Yeah, you're right. Whatever we plan in here won't survive once we get to the bank. Something always goes wrong. Hell, that's how I ended up in this line of work anyway. Something went wrong and I was close at hand. So we'll just have to make do. If someone can't pull their own weight, then we either throw him to the sharks or compensate." His smile was toothy, but not necessarily lacking warmth.

"Oh, one more thing," he said. "This is for all of you, so I'd listen well. Some of you might be thinking about arranging accidents for me or someone else on board, and I'm telling you now that you will not. From this point on, you guys are part of my crew. I might not be the best captain, but we do this professionally or not at all. If anyone tries something while we're up there, I won't hesitate to gun them down." He nodded meaningfully to the revolver at his belt.

"So, get your stuff together, we leave in eight hours. Our freighter is in bay A-18. Be there by morning with whatever you're bringing, and I'll try and wait for you. Just, if you're not there don't start bitching when you're left behind."

 

[Dravenkt]

Dravenkt remained a steel statue through the majority of the meeting. He had watched the room fill steadily with hackers, smugglers, merc's and all manner of rouges. The scanners built into his viser silently scanning eahch face that came into the room. Rarely was getting the scope on probable targets as easy as this. The man who organised it all, the master mind, was both the greatest threat and the most valuble as quarry. The others who came in here and there would also boast minor rewards, but if he waited untill they tried the heist to bring them down they would have an even greater reward attached to their names.

When no-more people entered the room and the meeting began in full swing Dravenkt saved the data the viser had recorded and switched it off, removing his helmet as he moved to sit at the table and rest the helm on the table before him. From that moment on he drank in every detail of the plan like it was a military breifing, conscripiting every detail to memory. His own plan began to take it's first form. How best to take advantage of the proximity he would be afforded with this prey? Pose amoung their number untill that last vital moment when he could roll a thermal detonater under the table while they all celebrated their hard stolen winnings? Or perhaps find some excuse to linger back at the ship and gun them down when they returned? No... No this had to be somthing different. For each member of the crew was canny in their own way and to let them have any chance to slip away could see the vanish utterly, and with them any chance of payment.

The mandalorians cold, scarred features didn't twitch when Balor announced his hunch. Was it possible he already knew somthing? Could he read minds? Dd he already know? Dravenkt forced down the urge to make a violent escape and instead pictured the endless deserts of tattooine, focusing completely on the hundred of miles of flowing sand in order to protect his thoughts. "Intelligent planning is good." Dravenkt said, his voice a rumble as he spoke up for the first time. " But stategy fails where weapons succede. I know this from experince." He said, tapping the ugly scar running through his lips with his index finger. " I will call in favors, and have heavier, weapons brought in." Weapons that would of course have a firing limiter. Perhaps a remote triggered saftey catch? Somthing to keep them from being used on him. After all it was hardly seen as a good way to end your life, being shot by a gun you paid for.

 

[Dread]

The Sephi listened to almost everything their new leader said, though he was momentarily distracted by a noticeable bit of dust drifting down in a ray of light. "Yes, sir. El-capt-e-ton." With the last bit of important information out of the way he stood from his seat, kicking back his chair. Taking advantage of his post, he took a few steps to the side of Ryiek. His hand balled into a fist before it came to the edge of Ryiek's shoulder, a single finger letting loose to flick off the spec of dust.

"Let me know if you need anything, boss." His words were a soft monotone, empty of emotion, just as his eyes were as they traced down Ryiek's figure.

Balor didn't wait long for a reaction before high-tailing it out of the room, though he couldn't help but give each of the crew members a glance and the same smirk. Every wave of emotion he could pick up he soaked in as he made his exit.

There was a lot of planning to do in the next eight hours, and likely a lack of sleep.