S.O.L.A.G. - Race of Arms

[Tarus]

The streets of Coruscant were always busy, but even the Galactic Capital had to rest sometimes. Right now, one of the many entertainment districts was resting; an occasional passerby crossed the streets at random intervals, but the few individuals out at this time of night were set on their business and not keen on paying too much attention to those who shared the streets with them, be they sentient or droid.

Aphos Veln leaned against a jet-black building support column, scratching his beard stubble absentmindedly as he watched the latest holopic trailers flying over the massive glowscreens above his head. Even during the night, the city looked alive; buildings and circuits didn't need to rest. The semi-transparent glass overhang above Veln kept most of the light off of him, allowing him to casually blend into the dark - he'd attract no attention here.

As uncomfortable as he felt in his civvies, Veln wasn't too concerned. He had a Flea nearby, and the compact armour plating that lined his vital areas would stop anything short of a vibroblade to the chest - something he'd be able to avoid with the help of his concealed blaster. Thugs weren't a problem on the upper levels, but you didn't get to be the commander of the galaxy's elite without taking necessary precautions. Besides, given the figure he was about to meet, some thug with a vibroblade was the least of Veln's worries.

As if on cue, Veln's wrist-mounted interface gently chirped - a comms contact. Drawing himself further into the shadows, Veln tapped a few controls and opened a response channel.

"Yo, D. What's up?" Veln smiled as the line stayed silent, his Delta overseer trying to form a reply to the incredibly informal greeting.

"Sir, no aerial contacts." Veln shook his head and chuckled as the Delta continued. "Your contact is approaching, though. We've been tracking him for two blocks - he's defused, no escorts and no visible armament. ETA twenty-five seconds."

"Sounds good, Delta-five. Remember, you're my eyes and ears, but this isn't a life-or-death mission. Loosen up a bit, soldier! Alpha out." Veln closed the channel and rolled his sleeve back over the comm unit. The Delta, a Manir Tika, was a human male fresh out of REPUBINTEL; classic spook, always looking to see whose face he could peel back to find the Hutt hiding underneath. Brilliant at covert ops, though; the operative had placed watchdog cameras around this whole district in under an hour. Veln made a mental note to buy the Delta a drink later on.

He turned his head as a figure stepped out of an alley fifteen meters away. The Alpha squinted through the darkness, making sure that this was the contact. Satisfied, he whistled sharply, then stepped back into the alleyway as the contact started walking towards Veln.

 

[Jiang Winters]

Coruscant's streets were all too familiar to Sev. He'd grown up in them, he'd fought in them, and he'd come close to dying in them more times than he cared to recall. They could be quiet, they could be loud, they could be kind, they could be mean, but they could never change. The grizzled corporate commando took comfort in that. There was a sort of peace knowing that the same crooks still hid in the same alleys. They still fought to scratch out a living, and they still died in their struggles to survive. It was a vicious and endless cycle, one that never seemed to reach the upper levels and thus went largely unseen.

Granted, the city was still alive with danger. Simple thugs lurked in dark alleys, tiny bands of impish teenagers milled about their favorite hideouts and called themselves 'gangs', and any number of purse-snatchers and pickpockets could be found darting to and fro. Fortunately, nightfall sent the criminal's preferred victims scurrying off to the safety of their homes, and so the criminals themselves often retreated.

As such, Lyle 'Sev' Nadir felt quite safe in the streets, though that was in no small part due to his armament and armor. He had a T91 repeater pistol stowed in a shoulder holster, which was concealed beneath his well-worn brown leather coat. He disliked his civilian attire, consisting of a white teeshirt and khaki cargo pants, but he needed to work as a plainclothes operative. Running around in an armored vest would draw too much attention, after all!

His earpiece hummed to life, relaying a transmission from the handful of Legionnaires acting as his reserve force. "Sev, it's Deuce. We're gonna circle overhead in the Valiant and wait for the call in. I've got Mich, Sonny, and Deckard kitted up in LANCE, all ready to drop. Cally's already on the ground, crazy dog pulled some civvies on over her recon armor. She's circling the area a couple clicks out on a speederbike."

"Make sure you don't get close enough to raise suspicion. We need to make a deal here, not panic our buyer into capping me in the head."

Deuce laughed. "Hooah, bossman. Check in every five - one click on the radio'll be fine. Two clicks will be your panic signal. Remember, if you think the spit's gonna hit the fan, call us - we'll be a good twenty seconds out at the minimum, and Cally's gonna be half a minute out."

"Got'cha Deuce," the Centurion replied. "I'm nearly to the meeting point - I'll call you when it's time to bring in the goods. Sev out."

Sev covered the remaining block and a half in short order and stepped out into an alleyway - the meeting point, according to Sonny. He didn't know how that big tiger knew who to contact inside this organization, but he was suddenly very glad to have the well-connected feline on his side even if he was apprehensive about having a Republic spook as one of CARD's most highly ranked members, and, more worryingly, one of the commandos in Ishikawa's circle of 'problem solvers.'

A man whistled. His train of thought broken, Sev tilted his head to look in the direction of the noise and saw his contact. Or, rather, the man he imagined was his contact. He started towards the man and reached inside his jacket. His fingertips brushed his handgun's slide and disengaged the safety, then smoothly fell to a pack of cigarras he kept in the jacket's interior pocket. He pulled one out and tucked it in his lips, but he didn't light up. To an observer, it would appear as though he'd simply had to search for his cigarra and lighter. An experienced observer, however, would likely still be wary of what he might have fiddled with inside his jacket.

He tucked into the same alleyway as his contact. "Pleasant night for a stroll, though the weather's a little cool for my liking," he commented idly as he produced a lighter. A pulse of orange light momentarily lit up Sev's face as he touched the fire to the tip of his cigarra and puffed on it to ignite it. He flicked the lighter closed and pocketed it as he took a drag and smiled. "I'm Sev, by the by. You are?"

There was little need for a challenge - his contact knew Lyle's callsign, and likewise, Sev had been given his counterpart's chosen name. If the names matched up, business would commence. If not, Sev walked away as if nothing had ever happened, leaving behind one very confused citizen.

 

[Tarus]

Veln was tall, but his contact was taller. As he approached, Veln couldn't help but be impressed; the guy was chill, but there was no doubt in the Commando's mind that the leather-clad figure was one tough warrior. There was a certain aura about him, an indication of elite training; the way he slipped his hand under his jacket - no doubt to prepare a countermeasure in case things went sour - was incredibly casual, but left no room for error. Veln fancied himself a badass, but this guy - this guy was fit for one of the cliche action flicks.

However, action stars weren't what the S.O.L.A.G. was after. No, Veln had called this meeting for a very specific purpose; ordnance. With the recent ceasefire, the Commandos would be finding it incredibly hard to navigate around Republic red tape in order to get anything done behind enemy lines; to compensate, they needed to equip themselves. Luckily, one of the boons of mid-war peacetime was that all the manufacturing companies of the galaxy dropped everything they were doing and started producing surpluses. Armour, weaponry, shielding - you name it, some droid in a factory was piecing it together.

But the Commandos weren't some planetary militia detail or nightclub bouncers. They didn't just need blasters. They needed serious firepower. And, while they could requisition all they wanted from the Republic, the Republic had very strict rules, rules so strict that they literally begged to be bent. The loopholes Veln had navigated through to even talk to his contact in the Crytek Advanced Research and Development corp (CARD for short) were enough to bring down a herd of Krayts. Not to say it wouldn't be worth it, though. CARD produced some of the deadliest weaponry available on this side of the Rim. There was a reason they were black market.

Sev Nadir neared the alleyway and swooped in, suavely drawing out a deathstick.

"Pleasant night for a stroll, though the weather's a little cool for my liking. I'm Sev, by the by. You are?" The corp lit the cig, blowing the smoke away from Veln's face. Great, the black market was ruled by gentlemen.

"What's the use in strolling when there are bad guys to catch?" Veln smiled, extending his hand. "Name's Shyrack. Well, not really, but you know how these things go."

 

[Jiang Winters]

Sev laughed as he shook Shyrack's hand. "All too well, pal. All too well," he replied with a grin. "So let's cut to to the chase. A mutual friend told me that you need special weapons and armor; the kind of thing that you can't requisition through your usual channels. I can set you up with everything you could ever need and more, but I can't make an offer until I know more about what you need."

He took a drag on his cigarra and blew smoke off to the side again - he made it a habit to never exhale in the direction of company when he was smoking. For some odd reason, it seemed to make folks mad. "So. Let's go somewhere secure to have our little chat. If you don't have a place in mind, I know of a quiet little joint not far from here where we can talk."

Shyrack looked like a man of exceptional experience, as such, Sev felt no need to explain why he felt so uncomfortable speaking in an alleyway. Besides, it'd be somewhat hard to show off everything CARD had to offer out in the open.

 

[Tarus]

Veln listened to the arms dealer, arms folded. This guy was good; he was suave enough to impress, but not sleazy or cheap. He came off as a seasoned professional, and he didn't seem untrustworthy; at least, REPUBINTEL's background checks on him hadn't turned up any flags. Not that there was much to turn up. This guy was practically a ghost.

"Alright, as long as we stay on this level." Veln stretched his arms as the contact smiled and stepped out of the alley, motioning down the road. Veln walked out, tucking his hands inside his coat pockets, relaxing as much as he could; he knew that the contact would have eyes watching them, but that was to be expected.

"So, where are we headed?"

 

[Jiang Winters]

"Nowhere too special. Just a warehouse," Sev replied. A moment later, the Legionnaire keyed his comms unit and put in a call to his team. "Deuce, it's Sev. Tell stripes to head on out to Foxtrot."

"He's already on his way. Just a heads-up, he ditched his LANCE and went for his custom suit and a stealth gen."

"Duly noted. Thanks Deuce."

The trip to the warehouse only took minute. Sev wasn't much for conversation during the brief sojourn; aside from the quick exchange between himself and Deuce, he didn't say a word. It was mostly because of his need for secrecy; the less he knew about 'Shyrack' the better, and vice versa. Right now, all he knew was that the man worked for SOLAG - the Republic's most elite fighting force, and second in secrecy only to Sector 13. [Which had become somewhat common knowledge amongst CARD's most highly ranked personnel, thanks entirely to Ishikawa's latest lapdog, who apparently held some sort of high rank within the shadowy government agency.]

The structure itself was wholly unimpressive. Little more than a big box with four white concrete walls and a reinforced roof, what the warehouse lacked in charm it more than made up for structural safety and soundproofing. Sev pulled the side door open and stepped in. The interior was as spartan as the exterior, containing little more than a handful of support pillars for the roof. A firing range with mock armored infantry targets was established at one end of the large structure, while a handful of weapon and ammo crates were neatly stacked by the firing line. A few larger containers were laying about as well, but their contents were obscured as the boxes bore no identification, save for a simple barcode stamped on the side.

Sev gestured around the warehouse. "You can talk freely in here. We installed audio dampers in the walls, sensor jammers, and a broad-spectrum comms jammer. No risk of interception or eavesdropping. If you want to contact any friends, take a second to step outside and do so, but bear in mind that this area's being scanned by comms interceptors. When you're ready to get down to business, head to the firing line and Sonny will show you what we have."

 

[Tarus]

Veln couldn't feel but impressed. This dude's nonchalance was impressive, but his orchestration was something else - Veln had expected eyes, but this guy had a whole network of sensors down. The Alpha looked up at his contact's back, then issued a few more commands through his wrist-mounted comms before rolling up his sleeve. His guys would be waiting back at the dropzone - ultimately, he was at the discretion of this arms dealer, though he trusted his referrer enough not to feel uneasy.

The walk to the warehouse was quick and clean - they only had to turn a few corners before Veln could see it. The building looked fairly new, blank, featureless walls standing out amongst the ocean of flashing lights and advertising. It looked like any old storage bin, though, which is why Veln suspected it had been chosen. They arrived at an inconspicuous side door, which required a simple keycode before swinging open on well-greased hinges. Secretly, Veln was disappointed - the whole awkward-silence, we're-professional-killers-but-we-don't-need-to-acknowledge-it-so-here's-some-lack-of-conversation thing had been building this up to an epic door-opening moment, like they always showed in the vids. All Veln got was a lousy silent side door. But, as they stepped into the building, Aphos changed his mind.

If the building had suddenly become anthropomorphic and started walking around on two massive building-legs, it probably would have been the most well-armed thing in the galaxy. The walls, floor, and probably the ceiling were plastered with crates of heavy-duty weaponry - hell, if the Republic's scientists would hurry up figuring out how to build guns that could shoot other guns, this place would have taken over the nearest four systems weeks ago. He wouldn't have been surprised if the building was made of weaponry. Veln took a few steps around, ignoring the single black-clothed figure who stood next to the side door.

There were crates, crates everywhere. However, aside from their size, they bore no indication of their contents - just barcodes. Veln rolled his eyes - all these kids with their new-age modern-art influences; even weapons crates seemed to be an art statement. Or, perhaps, this guy just liked to keep things organized. Veln had to keep the urge to giggle suppressed - this place was like a sweets store to a toddler. He snapped out of his stupor as Sev spoke.

"You can talk freely in here. We installed audio dampers in the walls, sensor jammers, and a broad-spectrum comms jammer. No risk of interception or eavesdropping. If you want to contact any friends, take a second to step outside and do so, but bear in mind that this area's being scanned by comms interceptors. When you're ready to get down to business, head to the firing line and Sonny will show you what we have."

Veln nodded and mustered his deepest, most-badass voice.

"I'm ready."

 

[Jiang Winters]

Sev took a draw off his cigarra and smiled. "Good to hear," he replied. The human gestured for 'Shyrack' to follow and headed towards the firing line. Sonam was sitting atop a crate when they arrived. Clad from head to toe in CARD's experimental Pinnacle-class Dynamic Muscle Suit, the big cat's appearance was wholly obscured. To Sev, he looked more like a battle droid than a living being. The suit was sleek and organic, resembling a ferocious predator that was capable of both stealth and brutality. It was a perfect fusion of raw strength and speed; the epitome of adaptability and modularity.

Sonam slid off the crate and onto his feet. His motions were fluid and graceful, which fitted very well with the predatory lines of his armor. He snatched up a M8A3 - a powerful magnetic accelerator rifle designed as an alternative to conventional assault rifles - and held it by the foregrip as he approached Veln. "You know, you could've picked a name that was a bit easier on the tongue, 'Shyrack,'" the S13 operative quipped. His attitude was casual, friendly, and instantly recognizable; Veln would undoubtedly realize that Sonam was his contact within CARD.

"I put together a bunch of kit that's superior to what you and your men are currently using. Sniper rifles, anti-tank weapons, power armor, vehicles, fighters, dropships, bombs, ammo; you want it, I can get it for you or have it built for you. What we've got here is only the tip of the iceberg of what CARD can supply for you." The S13 operative held the rifle out for Veln to take. "We're going to start with the basics. This is an M8A3 gauss rifle; simple gun, but effective. Six by forty millimeter soft-alloy jacketed round, fifty round magazine, optimum range of about two hundred meters, velocity of around 914 meters per second, and a rate of fire of eight hundred rounds a minute. She'll tear apart anything short of power armor, and she isn't as clunky and high-tech as a blaster."

With his free hand, he gestured to the firing range. Several magazines of M8 ammo sat on a folding table, along with a pair of earmuffs and shooting glasses. "Go ahead and try it out. The targets in lane 1 are equipped with Rep issued BMI Modular Combat Armor, and the targets themselves are ballistic gelatin with the consistency of living tissue."