The Pillaging of Triewahl Docking Station

[Silvertongue]

“The setting is the Triewahl Docking Station. A clan of nomad pirates has been attacking the docking station for the past two weeks. A signal has just been received in various marks across the Mid Rim, one Admiral Royce has requested help from anyone, offering a hefty sum of credits to whoever aids the station against the pillaging pirates. The security and merchants in the station are unable to win the war, communication with other stations has been made impossible due to a signal interceptor device installed on behalf of the pirate party shortly after the message had gone out. The only functioning method of short-ranged communication inside this structure are the guard comlinks, portable devices that transfer voice signals from one location to another. The word is spreading throughout the Triewahl system, goons for hire from all kinds of points of the galaxy have shown an interest.”

Greetings fellow benevolent Commanders or whatever you will, this is an emergency transmission from Admiral Roger Royce of the Triewahl Docking Station, requesting assistance from anyone willing to aid our resistance force against the nomad pirates of the Wild Space! A sum of twenty thousand credits will be rewarded to anyone and split evenly per each individual as a result of assisting the station in the war efforts against these raiders. These attacks have been ongoing for more than two weeks, I don't think we'll be able to last much longer with this uneven ratio of manpower. Take whatever you want from the station, we just need someone to help us, and very quickly indeed! I'm sorry for this informal message, but I have no time to waste! If it counts for anything, I'm sure these pirates are carrying some precious loot too. Admiral Royce out!

The Triewahl Docking Station can be distinguished from a great distance. Various sectors and tiers of the station are incinerated and nomad pirate shuttles and starfighters can be seen looping around the enormous pile of debris, searching for potential intruders and establishing security for the loot being transported from the station into carrier spaceships. The left side of the station appears to be completely mutilated and unsafe for a protocol hangar landing, pieces of A J-type star skiffs and other yacht-styled spacecraft float around the docking lanes on the very same exact spot where most of this infernal burning is located. However, the second hangar on the far right is under the supervision of the scavenging pirates where they've established a transportation route directly from the landing ramps to the loot-carrying ships.

An intruding wasted TIE Interceptor flies past the scouting pirate ships, piloted by Silvertongue the Rancor. The Interceptor has just been struck on the right wing brace by one of the hostile pirate fighters and continues to approach the Triewahl Docking Station's only safe hangar, dodging 60% of the incoming blaster bolts with risky spiral and unorthodox maneuvers. Silvertongue thrusts the Interceptor's joystick back and forth abruptly, having to force it to each side more than he would like, it was inevitable that the steering control was going to break, and it did. The TIE Interceptor had a mind of its own at this stage, it swerved directly into the cockpit of an attacking pirate shuttle, sending it crashing into a group of two looting pirate ships whilst it dropped negatively in the y-axis on the screen of the pilot panel. Silvertongue buttons and more buttons in despair, punching his fists at every red circle and eventually, the wings were detached from the drive pod which sooner or later crashed against the landing ramp in a bowling ball-like motion, screeching metal and pushing smaller ships in the hangar aside against pirates present in the area. Most of the enemies on the landing scene had been swept into space or crushed to death by the incoming fiery metal ball. Silvertongue the Rancor bounces back and forth inside the pod, restraining himself by holding onto the emergency grips above his head.

Five minutes shortly after the disastrous landing, Silvertongue regained his senses and proceeded to withdrawing his DL-44 blaster pistol from the holster adjacent to his right leg. A heavy thumping of Silvertongue's right boot against a corroded metal plate of the TIE Interceptor was enough to open an exit hole. A few meters ahead of him was located a red pristine A-wing starfighter surrounded by sealed crates, most likely to be weapons. Silvertongue hopped down from the inside surface of the shuttle onto the far inside landing ramp, taking cover behind one of the sealed metallic crates after being quickly targeted by the remaining six pirates on the hangar. He continued to hold his ground, blind-firing into the whereabouts of these villains.

Elsewhere inside the station, turmoil unveiled further and further. Twenty security guards faced sixty pirates alone in an isolated medical bay in the heart of the station. The noise was unbearable and blaster bolts could be heard everywhere inside this collapsing structure. Some of the pirates could be found near lifts, holding merchants as hostages, others could be found either fighting the security guards or guarding precious loot. There had been rumors regarding a kilo of obdisian being located in the Admiral's control room which was completely sealed, locked and fortified with a metal alloy and another kilo of beskar being guarded by ten pirates in the Na'rshaaq Bar area.

As some alien merchants hailing from the Unknown Regions of the galaxy on business begged for mercy and shouted for help, other individuals inside the ship were gaining notoriety from both enemy sides inside the station, showing great courage and survival skills. With so much confusion, it wasn't clear which side these men were siding, it could not be said at such an early stage, although some of them had been present since the first day of the raid and that situation played out differently...

 

[Lupe]

Oh, business was never simple, at least never when Lucius Veshok was involved. He had always been one of those people that simply was at the wrong place at the wrong time, but with the right set of skills for the situation. It happened on Fenris, and now it was happening here. All he wanted to do was turn in a recent bounty that a smuggler had contracted him for, but now he was located on the roof of a residential area right across a isolated medical bay. Still, that didn't mean things were bad, in fact things were pretty good since the admiral set up a bounty for the security of the station, one that the esteemed bounty hunter took on because why the hell not. Thus, Lucius was smoking on a cigarette, holding his Mortac Sniper rifle in his hand, and lying prone against a ledge facing the medical bay, if he was to take credit for the bounty he would have to help the pitiful guards protect their precious medical bay. Luckily for them, Lucius was all equipped and was able to avoid detection for now, so he set up his sniper rifle on the ledge and began making out his shots. Meanwhile, his droid, ED, was safely landed right beside him, ready for its next orders, but for now it remained silent, as Lucius found his first target.

His first target was the pirate that seemed to be the one in charge, waving his hand about and yelling like a wildman at his fellow pirates. To a trained commando, like Lucius, this meant that he was to be a top priority target, whether he was officially in command or not didn't matter, right now he seemed to be taking command and thus had to eliminated in order to demoralize the rest of the pirates. Thus Lucius lined up his shot, aiming for where the armor was the lightest, the neck, and fired. The shot was silent, but true. The man fell almost immediately, his throat ripped by the high powered slug from the Mortac sniper rifle, not knowing who fired the shot. Luckily, due to the Mortac's NonSonic silencer, neither did his men, all the pirates knew was that their commander was dead, which was made apparent by the fact that they all scrambled when the man fell. Now was time for the fun part, at least what Lucius considered the fun part. Using the sniper rifle's hair trigger, the bounty hunter proceeded to fire nine more shots in rapids succession, each bullet used for a single target and each target felled by a single bullet. It was only now that the pirates began to feel fear, in fact they were beginning to reek of it. With ten pirates dead in less than five minutes the rest were left disarray, with no leader and their friends dying like wamp rats, they had no idea what to do. Sadly for them, Lucius knew exactly what to do, and right now he was reloading his rifle. Once that was done, he got up from his prone position, not worrying about detection thanks to his shadowsilk armor, and proceeded to jump down into the streets. As soon as he was in the streets, Lucius proceeded to approach the pirate's location from behind, closely followed by ED.

Luckily for him, they were still unaware of his presence and he was able to get close without being disturbed. Now only fifteen meters away from the main group, Lucius was in prime position to throw one of his thermal wells at the enemy, which he did, tossing the device at where there was a group of five. Almost immediately the thermal well began to do its job, burning the poor sods to absolute crisp, causing ten other pirates to approach the location from where the device was thrown from, where Lucius was. Now was time for another one of Lucius' device, a smoke generator cleverly placed right after the thermal well was tossed, by the time the pirates got close to Lucius' position they were enveloped in a thick gray smoke that caused coughing and disorientation for the force. Luckily for Lucius, he was not at all hampered by the smoke's affects thanks to his cybernetic eyes and his armor's breath mask. Thus, Lucius was able to effectively pull out his pistol and dispatch the pirate attackers with ease and without alerting anymore pirates to his location. With ten more dead pirates surrounding him, Lucius took a moment to take a smoke break, while the guards and pirates kept duking it out. He knew today was going to be a long day.

 

[Jason Webb]

Tristan attentively scanned the stacked assortment of transmitters and communications units, scouring the channels for any information he could use to gain the whereabouts of the smuggler he had recently been hired to eliminate. His ship was floating around the system, no doubt about that as his ship was heavily damaged. He boost the range on his gear, wondering if he was searching in the wrong area for his prey.

A faint signal.

The transmission was filled with static, which could be the result of anything. Tristan made out that someone at Triewahl Docking Station was requesting help, and offering a reward. Now of course a chance such as this would be foolish to turn down he thinks to himself. That smuggler could wait, since he's probably dead anyway, his ship was almost totaled from the concussion missile that ripped it in half so there was nothing to worry about.

Tristan fired up his ships engines, pulling The Firestorm away from the debris pile he had been in. His fingers danced across the console, bringing the ship to full speed.

---

The young mercenary arrives at the scene, the massive plumes of fire and debris littered across the void of space. His sensors were off the charts with moving objects, there are burning husks of ships everywhere. Mixed in are dozens of fighters, all orbiting one of the stations hanger bays. They seemed to be distracted with something, so Tristan put a rapidly made plan into action. He quickly deployed three concussion missiles, leaving them floating dead in space for the time. He slowly edges towards the docking station, watching the pirate ships closely.

One of the ships rapidly accelerates towards him, firing its blaster cannons. Tristan’s fingers fly across the controls, spinning the ship to narrowly escape the first volley. More ships break off and move in the direction of The Firestorm and its pilot launches an accurate burst of concentrated laser fire followed by a Proton torpedo that shreds one of the fighters and damages another badly. His shields begin taking hits. Tristan hits the accelerator, heading towards the freighters that are transporting loot from the looks of it.

OOC: I plan to enter the Docking station next round, FYI

 

[Sleven]

The Wanderer didn’t have a ship, not since he’d left his post as “Doctor” onboard the Calypso Saragossa. He made his way across the galaxy as he usually did, hopping from transport to transport, sometimes as a stowaway. This particular transport had left him on the Triewahl Docking Station, amidst merchants, artisans, mercenaries, and any other profession you could think of. It would have been the perfect place for him to jumpstart his next expedition into wherever the hell the galaxy might next take him. Unfortunately, before he could secure himself a wildcard ship and destination a large group of pirates had begun a full-scale raid of the station’s supplies and trade goods. While it kept him grounded for the time being, he also knew how to make the best of the situation.

The Wanderer had been disguising himself as a pirate for the last two weeks and had been busy taking advantage of their sheer numbers. After having off’d some poor excuse for a pirate on the first day of the raid and donning some of the more “uniform” parts of the pirate’s raggy outfit, there was almost no way for them to know whether or not he was part of one of their crews or just an errant traveler. Running his mouth and behaving like a scoundrel to fit in, the Wanderer managed to keep himself out of combat for almost the entirety of the two weeks. Instead he found himself holed up in the Na'rshaaq Bar area swindling “fellow” pirates out of credits, loot, and supply caches over less-than-friendly games of sabaac and pazaak during the lulls. Here it was easy to keep up to date with the events going on around the station, and talk was that there were some more significant valuables being held by both pirates and guards throughout the ship. Something that had particularily caught the Wanderer’s attention was the rumor of a kilo of Bes’kar being located in the very bar he was swindling his “fellow” pirates in. Something like that was worth more than a few safe jumps across the galaxy to some choice and hard-to-reach locations. But the truth was, more than anything he just wanted to get the hell out of his current “boring” predicament so he could see some other part of the galaxy than the metallic hallways of a ripped-to-shit space station.

“Your hand,” one of the pirates said to him as a large number of them moved out of the bar and into the ensuing showdown with the station’s guards. Now he was next to alone. It was just the Wanderer, two other pirates playing sabaac and the juggernaut of a man in charge of guarding the kilo of Bes’kar.

Perhaps the inevitable cavalry had arrived to cleanse the station of its current pirate infestation. He heard one of the pirates say a number of unidentified aircrafts were entering the area around the station, and that a large part of one of the crews hadn’t reported back in the last five minutes. This was the moment the Wanderer had been waiting for. Time to make his move.

“My hand?” the Wanderer answered, playing dumb, but drawing the attention that was focused on his silence away from him.

“Yea, your hand,” the pirate snapped in frustration at all he had lost to this unknown “fellow” pirate.

Looking from the pirate down at his right hand quizzically the Wanderer made light of the situation, playing ignorant to the fact that the pirate had been referring to his hand of cards. As the two pirates were distracted by his antics, the Wanderer’s left hand had slowly moved to the grip of a slugthrower he had won earlier in the week, concealed on the back of his belt. Quickly drawing it from its hidden location, the Wanderer fired off three shots: two into the chest of the first and one through the neck of the second. Pointing the slugthrower at the menacing figure of a man awestruck by what the Wanderer had just done, he pulled the trigger.

*Click*
*Click*

Fuuuck! The cheap piece of durasteel in his hand had already jammed up before he could make clean work of the last remaining pirate inside the bar. The awestruck gargantuan pirate’s face quickly dissolved from shock to a grimace filled with killing intent. Throwing the blaster at the beast of a man’s face before rushing him head on, the two were about to get into some serious fist-to-cuffs.

 

[The Kyzer]

Skirting around space on his way to yet another meeting, Kylis calmly took a quick shower in his bunk-room on the freighter Nerf or Nothin', a 600-meter long vessel that was not in the best shape. However, Kylis had chosen it because of its near-desertion, only having 10 organic crew members, and it's relative unassuming nature, hauling hundreds of tons of flash-frozen nerf-products, like meat and milk. Only Kylis and the captain of the vessel knew that in the aft-most cargo bay was a small RZ-5a A-Wing, with Kylis' astromech Rex sitting in its socket, prepared to launch the fighter at a moment's notice.

As he exited the small bathing-unit, Kylis' datapad beeped, a message from Rex coming through. Intrigued, Kylis picked up the little pad and opened the file. It was an emergency transmission that the A-Wing's comm-unit had picked up by chance. It called for aid against pirates. Kylis calmly put down the little datapad and walked over to his bunk. Underneath was a heavy durasteel suitcase, one that required a successful bio-scan and the correct pass-phrase, vocal-print match, AND a code-key to open. Failing one of these armed a small explosive device inside. Failing a second detonated it, obliterating the contents inside. This was a necessary precaution to maintain his cover as the elusive Sand Panther, a wandering mercenary of commander-stature, and investor in a few companies, and multiple other, less respectable ventures.

After completing the full opening process, Kylis pulled out two suits of armor. The first was a lightweight Taskmaster armor that he'd acquired through some of his underworld contacts. The second was a much heavier powered-armor called the Paladin-Pattern Heavy Armor. This was normally reserved for members of the Slayer Initiative, but Kylis' contacts had ways around that. He decided to wear the heavy armor, as Kylis' assumptions based on the message told him that the station was either already or nearly in complete control by the pirates.

After firing off a quick message to the captain, Kylis ran down to the aft cargo bay, calling Rex on his commlink as he went to tell him to get the A-Wing ready for action. Running down the bay's single staircase from the entrance to the actual deck twenty feet below, Kylis smirked a bit as the A-Wing lifted up on its repulsors, a signal from the little astromech that its pilot was slow. He deftly hopped in and ignited the engines. Now, normally the massive freighter's cargo door wasn't meant to open during flight, and thus was not designed to vent atmosphere except in cases of fire. However, Kylis had paid the owner of the ship handsomely to allow two small fuel tanks to be added to the ship's manifest...and stationed right next to the doors.

Thumbing the fighter's laser-firing control button on the yoke after diverting nearly all power to the forward shields, the captain watched as one of the fuel tanks exploded, raining fire all over the bay, and weakening the door lightly. The little fighter shook a bit as the edge of the blast rippled along its surface, but none of the little fuel-based fireballs hit.

Then Kylis threw the engines in reverse and backed the ship up to the rear of the cargo bay, about twenty-five meters back. The second fuel tank, unbeknownst to the ship's owner, was NOT filled with fuel. It was packed with high explosives. Kylis sent the detonation codes via his commlink, and braced. The explosion ripped through the side of the ship. They'd been shaped to divert the greatest amount of energy out towards the door, and away from Kylis, but it didn't help to be careless. The blast was sufficient to blow open the door, which then tore a long gash in the side of the ship. As the A-Wing rocketed out through the blasted hole, Kylis gave the order for Rex to purge all records of "galactic hitchhiker Rod Blexton" from the freighter's computer. The little astromech also wiped the freighter's captain's personal computer as well, just to be sure.

The pair leaped into hyperspace, and reappeared about two MGLTs from the docking station. Then Kylis noticed the large amount of unfriendlies moving toward his position. He sent out a query of their intentions, but the reply was a sudden barrage of laser bolts. Kylis responded by rolling and diving to starboard. Then he cut back to port, elevating his fighter's guns as he did. The would allow him to fire at the oncoming pirates while still diving beneath them. The shock of the little fighter's powerful cannons was enough to put the approaching pirates into disarray, especially after two of the haphazardly constructed fighters, nicknamed "Uglies" by most fighter jockeys, were destroyed by two direct hits.

Kylis then broadcasted on open channels as he pulled up, hurtling toward the center of the confused pirates, firing haphazardly as he went, "This is the Sand Panther. Fire upon me again and I'll turn the rest of you into scrap."

Normally, the superior numbers of the enemy fighters would inspire them to stay and fight, but multiple turned around a flew away from him. However, those that remained just so happened to be flying either factory-made fighters, or at lest well-built Uglies.

Kylis cursed as they came around behind him, organizing into a single seven-fighter delta-formation. The GA captain quickly threw all shield power into his rear deflectors, and rotated his cannons again, this time straight back, firing as he did. The surprised pirates broke formation, giving Kylis time to come about and reposition his cannons. He dropped behind one of the more well-built Uglies, turning it into a rapidly expanding-cloud of superheated metal and gas with a snap-shot, then locked on to a passing ancient-looking X-Wing, and firing a concussion missile at it.

The captain didn't have time to check to see if the missile hit as a pair of TIE's, an Interceptor paired with a standard fighter, dropped in behind him, firing as they came. As a pair of shots hit his deflectors, Kylis belatedly realized that he hadn't evened out his shields again; they were still focused in the aft deflector screen. While uttering a quick thanks to the Force, Kylis dove as hard as he could, the fighter's inertial compensator only barely able to keep its pilot from shattering his collar bones on the restraint belts as he went. He then cut his engines' thrust to zero, and the TIE pair quickly overshot him. He fired twice, and both were reduced to their base elements.

Before Kylis could move to engage the rest, a crackle echoed out on his comm-unit.

"This is the Captain," a man's voice announced, "Cease-fire. Sand Panther, we've heard about you. What are your intentions regarding out new home?"

"I actually just came to enlist with you guys for a bit," Kylis lied, his voice obscured by his helmet's voice-scrambler, "There's no better work for me right now. Damn GA's given up. It isn't any fun to shoot at people with no goody-goody's to fight with."

"Ain't that the truth," the voice replied, "Alright, come on in on this heading. No tricks."

"No tricks," Kylis agreed, "SP out."

As the surviving fighters tried to form up around the A-Wing, Kylis smirked, and threw his engines' propulsion back to full. The little fighter rocketed away from the group, and after a minute or so, landed in the hangar. As he did, Kylis watched as a group of rather threatening individuals made their way over to his fighter.

"You Sand Panther?" the leader asked with a gruff voice.

"Nope, I'm the Chief of State," Sand Panther replied sarcastically, his scrambled voice making it sound a bit ominous, "What's it to you?"

"Those were my boys you vaped out there," the man replied angrily, taking a few steps forward, "And I want to get a little payback, if you know what I mean."

The armored man threw a couple small credit chips at the angry pirate, saying, "That should cover it."

The little chips bounced off the man's chest. He smirked and looked back at his comrades, nodding his head, before suddenly dashing forward at the Sand Panther, vibroblade knife in hand.

Then, just as suddenly, there was a flash of metal, a sickening slicing-sound, followed by a sudden "oomph", then screaming as the large pirate fell to the ground, his nose broken and the lower half of his arm sitting five meters away. Sand Panther kept his vibroblade short sword out as the rest of the pirate's cohorts prepared to rush their comrade's attacker.

Before they could though, another voice called out, "Stop!"

A rough-looking human, about two meters tall, ran over toward the scene of the incident angrily.

"You all want to die?" he spat, directing his anger toward the pirate group, "Even if you did get this guy, Leader would rip out your innards for killin' a potential crew-mate!"

The group dispersed, a few carrying their fallen teammate while another picked up the cut-off arm, which still held the knife firmly. The larger man who'd saved Kylis/Sand Panther then turned to him.

"Did you have to remove his arm?" he grunted, "He needs it to pilot."

"Then glue it back on," Sand Panther snapped back.

The big man laughed heartily and lead him over toward a group of pirates, where they were establishing a small encampment of sorts, while several other pirates moved some crates near his A-Wing. Rex beeped a query to his armor's internal comm-unit, and Kylis grunted an affirmative. Rex wiped the A-Wing's data boards and navicomp before jettisoning out of the little fighter's astromech socket. Kylis felt a sudden pang of what he called his "danger sense" and turned around, Taskmaster pistol drawn. What looked like the cockpit-ball of a TIE fighter came barreling into the hangar, ramming aside multiple small fighter craft, and positively decimating the number of pirates in the hangar.

"Sonova..." the armored man muttered as the rolling cockpit did not stop, and continued its course straight at him. Diving to his forward with a roll, Kylis/Sand Panther landed in a maintenance trench, which was normally used to work underneath fighters with damaged repulsors. Through the armor, Kylis thought that he felt the cockpit lightly graze the back of his suit, when in actuality, it had passed over him with about six inches to spare. The pirates that the Sand Panther had been about to be introduced to, however, were not so lucky.

The crash of the ball-cockpit, and after its eventual stop, had sharply reduced the hangar's pirate-occupancy to a little over a dozen. Rex, who had moved behind the A-Wing for cover, relayed the information that there was still a living being inside the cockpit. Even more so, the cockpit's barely functioning IFF transponder did not broadcast codes that were in use by the pirates. That meant that whoever was in that cockpit was NOT a friend of the pirates.

Thinking quickly, the armored warrior rose out of his trench, and charged a group of seven pirates who were still quite confused by the crash. Drawing his short sword with his right hand while aiming his pistol with his left, the Sand Panther moved just like his namesake, fast and deadly. Three of the pirates were downed before they had a chance to see their attacker. The remaining four scrambled to draw their weapons, but it was far too late. Kylis/Sand Panther slashed into one's throat while shooting another in the chest three times. Crossing his left arm over, the warrior shot another twice in the head.

By this time, the last had drawn his weapon, an old E-11 blaster rifle, and was bringing it to bear on the rapidly approaching Sand Panther. Still sprinting, Kylis/Sand Panther dove and rolled, just before the pirate opened fire. The aged rifle still worked, surprisingly, a full testament to its durability, but it's overall aim during full-auto was just as bad as it had been centuries before. Kylis/Sand Panther saw his shield-indicator drop a bit as one of the errant bolts caught his lower back, but he knew that it didn't really matter. He came up from the roll a meter before the pirate, and stabbed the fear-stricken man in the chest with a lunge-powered short sword.

The remaining six pirates in the hangar then caught on to what was happening and opened fire on the armored fighter. Rolling into another maintenance ditch, Kylis/Sand Panther cursed before reloading his pistol. They traded fire for a few minutes before he heard a loud banging coming from the stricken TIE ball-cockpit. A man wearing strange armor exited the remains of the craft and ran for cover. Kylis/Sand Panther obliged him by giving him a bit of covering-fire himself.

"This is the Sand Panther calling Crazed TIE Bowler," he said on a tight-beam communication toward the new entrant's position, "Repeat, this is Sand Panther called Crazed TIE Bowler, do you copy?"

 

[Sarsezic]

The lights in one of the many cargo bay's of the station fluttered and died engulfing the room in black. In here, it seemed the sound of steps, movements, breathing felt more instense. It was here, Sarsezic rested himself, waiting for the steps of the small patrol of unruly pirates to near his position. In here, he had the advantage in number. One to seven...sounds even enough.

Sarsezic pressed his back against a large cargo container, listening to the sounds of the steps that wandered the cargo bay, the voices, each held a sense of distraught, over-confidence, unruliness, and ignorance. Nostalgic. Sarsezic drifted into his thoughts, recalling the events of how he had landed down in the Triewahl Docking Station. His ship in need of refueling, and a chance to restock on supplies. Six hours before the pirate raid. The event ran coursed through his mind, leaving his ship at the hangar bay, he paid for the refueling, taking this time to head into the mechants districts, look for guns, food, new gadgets, and for the sport. A bounty or two. It just wasn't worth the visit if there wasn't any personal gain, and there was much to gain at a ship consisting of the producer and consumer.

The steps drew closer, small sounds of shuffling of feet across the floor. The patrol had a hard time seeing, trying to avoid tripping on any fallen debris of any sort that lay scattered across the ground. It was a definite sign as they got closer that he would be fighting blind enemies. The scale tipped in his favor. Sarsezic breathed slowly, calmly. His thoughts returning to before the raid, he had his pistol at a ready, beginning a small gain hunt. A cardshark smuggler who had a knack for cheating out merchants of their business. He had tracked the man back to his ship, the man had been wandering the outer edges of the ship, giving it what would seem to be a frequent maintenance check. A man who truly loved his ship more than his own reputation. Sarsezic had approached the ship with a strong casual stride, giving the man full view of h is approach, and, in his old modified Mandalorian crusader armor, he stood out like a bantha in a pod of acklay. The man immediately brought his attention to Sarsezic, "Who in the world are you?" the smuggler spoke hesitantly, his hand rested on his blaster.

"Dead or alive, Reeko. Make a decision." Sarsezic skipped past the formalities, as he stopped a few meters from him and his target. Reeko narrowed his eyes, as he watched the six foot tall man stare back at him. His fingers twitched slightly as he hastily grasped his blaster pistol, drawing it.

The sound of a boot pushed at metal as Sarsezic exhaled quietly, the patrol had now landed on his little sandbox that he claimed within the cargo bay. Sarsezic leaned forward as he watched the lights get closer to his position. Sarsezic placed his hand along his side, resting it on his DC-15s blaster pistol. He had to be quick, precise. He did not want to make too much of a ruckus...luckily for him, in this scum infested station...it wouldn't be too difficult. The patrol soon made it to his side, three pistols, three rifles, one scattershot...Sarsezic made his move, immediately stepping from his hiding, he slung his arm around the elbows of the man with the scattershot, squeezing inwards, he felt the snap of bone underneath his, bringing his other arm around in the same sequence, he wrapped it around the man's head to stiffle his voice as he jerked his arm to the side, he felt another sickening crack. One. Sarsezic counted in his head. He struck out the last of the group, turning around, he rushed forward, the sound of his movement drew their attention. Slipping inbetween two with the rifles, he brought his hand around to strike the one to his right with a heavy hand, disorienting him, his other hand to push the rifle of the pirate to his left, the blaster fired striking one of the men with a pistol, "Two". Pulling the rifle, he placed his hand on the man's wrist, yanking it from the trigger, he spun him by his wrist, dropping him to the floor as he pushed his foot into his throat. Unholstering his pistol, he fired at the last two pistol wielding pirates. "Three. Four." the sounds of retreat echoed down the wing, the third rifleman had made a run for it. While the one infront of him lay disoriented, the other under his foot...This was Sarsezic's playground, there was no fun in running. Placing his hand along his detonator that lay along his belt, he pressed the button. A few small grade charges set off on the adjacent wings. If it didn't kill the escapee...it would definitely injure him. Sarsezic took his time in the darkness to prepare for this, almost every possible outcome. Gripping the man's wrist tighter, he pushed his foot down..."Five..."

Sarsezic released the pirate's wrist. Making his way now to the sixth pirate whom still lay on the floor. Reaching down, he pushed his hand into his throat, gripping the man's larynx. He began to pull up to force the man onto his feet and then his toes. The pirate was bleeding from his temple, his hands grasping Sarsezic's wrist. "Let me go! Let me go, i'll leave! I'll leave!" he strained keeping himself on his toes to continue breathing. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you now. What's on this station?" Sarsezic said lowly, tightening his grip on the man's throat. "Agh! Be'skar! Be'skar, Be'skar and Obisidian. That's all!" the man coughed. Be'skar... Sarsezic thought to himself. Along with the transmission of this stay on the station being a definite credit gain. This bit of news only made this hunt more exciting. The lights of the cargo bay slowly returned. The man stared into the visor of the masked bounty hunter holding him by his throat. "Please, let me go...they'll kill me if they find out." Sarsezic studied the man. "Oh, they won't find out..." Sarsezic turned his head, tightening his grasp on the man's larynx. A small popping sound could be heard as he released the man to sprawl on the ground, gasping for air. "Six." Six people lay at the ground, one killed by their own member, if not the man having help in the process. Now it was to check on number seven. Walking through the aisle's of the cargo bay, he soon came upon the few blast zones. A man laying on the floor in the center of the blast radius. Sarsezic slowly made his way towards him, lifting his pistol he shot the body in the back before holstering his pistol. Crouching down beside the man, his HUD scanned for vitals. "Seven."

Sarsezic rose to his feet. He closed his eyes, recalling his events with Reeko. The gunslinging smuggler was on a knee, his hand holding his wrist. He had two visible wounds, one on his knee the other seared into his hand. Reeko looked up at Sarsezic who only returned the stare. "You should have chosen alive, Reeko." Sarsezic aimed the barrel of his DC-15s blaster on Reeko.

"Now. It's time to profit..." Sarsezic shifted his gaze from the scene of the seventh pirate. Be'skar, and a chance to collect...only thing now was to plan a takeover...

 

[EnderM5]

The Doctor lurched forward groggily, stumbling along and laying hands on his "fellow" pirates for support. They, in turn, shoved him off. He "tripped" and fell crashing to the ground between two crates. "That moron!" a pirate said. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted any outsiders to help. That's all they're good for. Getting drunk on the job..." The leader of the pirate gang Emile was currently with cuffed the pirate who spoke on the back of the head, yelling, "Get to work, idiot!" The pirate grudgingly picked up a box; and nudged Emile with the tip of his foot. "What about him?" The leader shook his head, grinning, "Leave him for the security to pick up. Leave his ship as well," nodding at the Sentinel-class Emile kept.

Some time passed, and the pirates inevitably left to go stash their booty someplace. Now, nearby, there was a dead merchant. Emile quickly took the outer clothes off of the merchant and put them on himself. He then stashed the merchant's body in a nearby locker. Then, Emile had to give the security a nice little illusion. He held onto both of the jugular veins on either side of his head for about half a minute, and then collapsed to the ground, unconscious.



When Emile woke up, he was staring into the face of a space-station medical orderly. He said, "Thank God you found me! The pirates robbed me and left me for dead!" The orderly nodded and said, "You're luck to be alive. Obviously, you were dealing with professionals, as there are no marks on your body." If Emile could, he would have laughed hysterically! These morons! "So, anyways, I can leave now?" he asked, directing his question to the orderly. The orderly nodded and said, "Go right ahead. Have a good day."

Pretty soon, Emile was on his way to a medical bay where he usually hung out, ditching the "rich person" clothes for something a little more, "pirate-y." He arrived at the hallway leading to the medical bay, peeked in... and almost got his nose ripped off by a blaster bolt flying past his face. He jumped back and took out his crossbow, which somehow had gotten passed the moronic security guards at checkpoints throughout the station. "Here I go...

 

[Lupe]

Lucius smirked as the firefight within the medical bay became much more intense, he decided that now was the time to go and at least give the security guards a fighting chance. He tossed away the cigarette he was smoking, reminding himself that he would need to drop the habit soon, since it was a clear security risk. He then proceeded to look at his Instigator and made sure that all its parts were functioning and that it had ammo, because the last thing you wanted to hear in the middle of a firefight was an unexpected click. With everything checked, Lucius proceeded into the medical bay, carefully, only to be met by two rather large Gammorean pirates. "Hey, you!" one of them yelled out, pointing at Lucius, before pulling out a traditional battle axe and charging the bounty hunter. He was only to make one step before he fell dead, smoke exiting from a hole in his head. The other Gammorean, however, was able to make much more ground, even enough to swing his mighty axe at Lucius. Still, Gammoreans were known for being extremely sluggish and Lucius was known for being extremely agile. Thus he was able to easily dodge the glorified pig's strike by bending his knees and leaning back. He was then able to respond by using his weapon hand to help guide the Gammorean's axe arm away, while at the same time angling his own pistol to blow the pig's head off.

With the two perimeter guards dead, Lucius looked around for a terminal and, just as he expected, he found one. Quickly, he ran over to it and hacked into it. He skipped over the patient files, though one about a recent STD outbreak caused him to look twice, but eventually he reached what he really wanted which was the blue prints of the facility. With those in hand he could easily navigate the area and flank his enemies. Which was almost immediately required, as voices could be heard approaching Lucius' position. Not wasting a moment, Lucius backed away from the terminal and crouched underneath the desk. Eight well armed pirates entered right after that, the leader looking at the two dead bodies in shock. "Who did this?!" he barked, looking intently for some sort of sign as to where the perpetrator went. Lucius in the meantime was taking out a frag grenade from his pouch, he knew that his best chance at taking them all out easily would be to throw a grenade at them and hope for the best so that's what he did. The grenade exploded in mid-air, thanks to Lucius' calibration and made sure that every pirate got a fair share of shrapnel that shredded their insides and killed them all immediately.

Now Lucius only had to find the guards that were guarding the medical bay in order facilitate them in defeating the rest of the pirates.

 

[The Kyzer]

Kylis cursed silently when the pilot did not respond. That meant that either he was an unfriendly, or was incapacitated. Either way, he was alone in this.

A soft beep echoed in his helmet's comlink reminded him that he wasn't entirely alone.

"Thanks, Rex," the Sand Panther said to his astromech-friend, "Can you scan the area for the enemy locations?"

A more vibrant beep answered, and a small tactical map appeared in a corner of his HUD. Luckily, there were only six hostiles accounted for. The down side was that the man in the strange armor had clearly left him there to face the hostiles alone.

Still hiding in the mechanical trench, Kylis primed a pair of grenades, and checked for the nearest enemy location, which according to his minimap looked to be two mercs hiding behind a group of barrels. His HUD had counted down the timers on the grenades, which was accurate to within one-millionth of a second, and hurled them nearly a full second after manufacturer regs said to. They exploded in-flight, a meter above the concealed mercs. Kylis was already in motion when the detonations occurred, pumping his legs to gain speed as he ran along the trench. The four remaining mercs opened fire on the running Sand Panther after a moment or two's recovery from their comrades' deaths.

Pulling up his HCR, the incognito GA captain issued an uncharacteristic and probably treasonous unspoken thanks to the Mandalorians who designed and built the weapon as he pulled the trigger. His armor's powered joints allowed him to fire it using just his right arm, having strapped it around his right shoulder to increase stability, while he pulled out one of his two Taskmaster pistols. He unloaded the small but powerful sidearm into a mercenary that was using a doorway as cover. The Trandoshan laughed when the shots only burned small craters in the door way, and stepped out to fire his massive heavy repeating rifle.

Kylis merely smirked behind his full helmet as the door sudden slammed shut on the surprised mercenary. Being an experienced mechanical engineer had its perks, like knowing exactly where the atmospheric-detection sensors would be on door controls. The door controls had simply thought the hangar had been breached and was losing atmosphere, and thus followed procedure by immediately slamming shut the door. The Trandoshan's crushed body oozed multiple types of fluids beneath the door's heavy frame, but Kylis didn't have time to think about that right now as he leaped out of the trench, re-holstering his pistol to search for another exit.

The three remaining enemies had forsaken their cover and were now giving chase, firing their blaster haphazardly as they came. The captain finally found another exit, and rushed around the corner, a blaster bolt scoring the door's frame just above his head as he cut the corner. However, instead of rushing down the corridor, the armored warrior simply jumped up and grabbed an emergency light that was positioned above the door.

The reinforced box holding the lights made an excellent gripping point as he swung his body up parallel with the floor. The lights, thankfully, had already been blown out, probably by some bored pirates. Kylis planted his feet on both sides of the corridor and locked the leg joints, firmly affixing himself above the doorway. He then locked his left arm's joints from the shoulder-down, reinforcing his hold on the light box. With his right, he moved his HCR to lie on his chest mere inches from the ceiling and drew out his short sword.

The three pirates rushed into the corridor one after the other, the first spraying blaster fire down the hall obliviously as they entered. The pirates drew flashlighs and shined them down the dark tunnel, searching for their prey. After the last one made it past Kylis' hidden position, he disengaged his leg joints' locks, and swung down quietly. He then disengaged his left arm's locks and fell to the floor, crouching as he fell to cover the noise of his landing.

It didn't work. Though the armor was quite advanced and Kylis was skilled, the pair combined were still quite heavy. He landed with a dull thud, which drew the last pirate's attention. The Sand Panther, true to his alias, was already a blur of motion, however, diving at the surprised pirate and burying his short sword's blade in his throat. The first and second pirates turned at the sound of their comrade's gurgling and choking as blood filled his breached respiratory system, but the Sand Panther was already in action.

Using the embedded short sword as a fulcrum, Kylis swung around the dying pirate's left side and pushed his dying adversary at his comrades. Then, the armored warrior quickly grasped his HCR again and placed it firmly into the top-right quadrant of the now-off-balance second pirate's chest, pulling the trigger as he did. The blaster bolts quickly burned through the man's body, and began spraying through the fiery hole at the last pirate. The final hostile had barely caught on to what had happened when several of the incoming bolts punctured his chest and head.

Kylis pulled his finger of the trigger and stopped his forward momentum then, sending the second pirate's corpse falling alongside his dead brethren. He calmly retrieved his abandoned blade and reloaded his HCR and Taskmaster pistol.

"Rex," the captain asked, "Can you give me an overall layout of the facility?"

The astromech beeped into Kylis' comms again, and the minimap grew to envelop his entire HUD while remaining transparent enough for the captain to still see through in case he needed to defend himself. The map itself zoomed out and depicted the entire space station. Rex had apparently already jacked-in to the station's core computer and had downloaded the area map. The map showed the area he was now in, as well as multiple other areas, from cargo to medical. The medical areas were the closest.

Dismissing the map back to its previous miniaturized form in the corner of his viewscreen, the Sand Panther quietly walked down the dark tunnel, the red emergency lighting on the floor making the journey that much more ominous.

 

[Sleven]

The weight of the metallic slugthrower clashed against the juggernaut’s skull with a loud crack, jarring his head slightly downward and to the right as he grunted to shrug off the sharp pain. In that instant the Wanderer leapt forward with reflex-defying agility, knocking the table aside and drawing his right hand back before driving it forward and into the man’s exposed jaw. The heavy sound of colliding flesh and bone rang hollow throughout the empty bar. Giving his opponent no time to recover, the Wanderer shifted his leftward moment across his body once more, twisting his hips to deliver a hard left hook into the man’s lower ribs. The sheer impact of the blow resonating at last within the man’s liver.

The man let out a loud, “Umph!” but carried onward as if nothing had happened. The adrenaline was already filling his body with a renewed sense of vigor and enough endorphins to ignore the waves of pain. Grabbing at the pieces of cloth on the Wanderer’s right shoulder, the man managed to hamper his mobility with the sheer strength of his massive paw. Driving his own right towards the Wanderer’s left side, the Wanderer retracted his left hand by tucking his bicep and forearm close along his exposed side to lessen the impact of the behemoth’s blow. The man’s fist buried itself in the Wanderer’s defenses with the force of a tree trunk. The Wanderer’s arm dispersed the damage, but the force of the blow could be felt in his side nonetheless.

Recognizing the danger the man posed with his strikes, the Wanderer drove himself inwards with a hard left knee aimed at his foe’s groin and inner left thigh. Feeling his patella squash something bulbous against the man’s upper gracilis muscle, his opponent’s grip loosed in tandem with the flood of unconquerable pain. Grabbing the giant’s left hand with his right, the Wanderer tore it from his clothes and over his head in one swift motion, clasping the wrist with his left hand as it came to his left side. Moving to the man’s left side as he did this, the Wanderer snapped his right foot forward like a piston into the back of the man’s knee, forcing his weight to the ground. As the man fell to his knee, the Wander slide his right hand along the man’s shoulder, driving the man’s left arm sharply up with his own left. This successfully dislocated the left shoulder. Realizing his opponent had gotten the better of him, the giant of a man fell backwards, turning to drive his right shoulder into the Wanderer and knock the adversary off balance and escape fate as he did so.

Falling slightly with the weight of the man driving into his center, the Wanderer quickly wrapped his right arm around the behemoth’s thick neck, pressing down on the back of the man’s head with his left as they collapsed to the floor in the sprawl of the fight. Struggling before him, the man wriggled with desperation as he tried incessantly to loosen the Wanderer’s chokehold. With his right arm pinned against the floor, and his left shoulder dislocated, his paltry attempts had little effect. Lying there for a while as the man’s face turned color the Wanderer tightened his grip further like a boa constrictor, until the last bit of life had left the giant in his grasp.

Springing up from his place on the floor, the Wanderer drove his heel into the dead man’s neck for good measure before walking over to the stolen goods before him. Taking the kilo of beskar from the guarded crate, the Wanderer walked back to his stash of goods behind his seat at the bar table. Removing the bloody pirate rags and replacing them with his own, the Wanderer stashed the kilo securely in a satchel before sweeping the large pile of scattered credits he had won (and even those he hadn’t) into the satchel along with it.

“Time to get the hell out of here,” he spoke to himself underneath an audible sigh.

Walking around for a little while, thinking to himself, the Wanderer grabbed the best blaster carbine, heavy pistol, and vibro blade he could find along with his personal stash of loot before heading towards to bar door. Before exiting, he remembered the bar’s last remaining bottle of aged Corellian whiskey. Pulling it from behind the counter he promptly left after stashing it in his satchel.

Outside there was a hailstorm of blaster fire, smoke, and shouting. Moving quickly and avoiding confrontation the Wanderer walked past the corpses of some of the pirates that had been dispatched from the bar. He would have to make his way to the lifts past the medical bay in order to get to the open docks. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too much trouble on the way there…

 

[EnderM5]

Emile crouched in the doorway, peeking his head out tentatively once more. This time, he found he could survey the situation a bit more. A poor group of about 20-odd security forces was pinned down in a dead end on one side. The pirates and mercenaries, who numbered at least thrice that amount. At the moment, bullets were flying through the skies, but once ammo shortage set in, Emile knew that they would pick their shots a bit more carefully. Already the fire coming from the security forces was becoming more sporadic, and the pirates were starting to advance; making use of the many overturned tables and benches as cover.

The problem was, Emile didn't know which side to pick. His agenda lied mainly with eluding the authorities and guards, but Emile couldn't resist helping the underdog team. Plus, if he joined the security forces, and they ended up losing, Emile would have no way of escaping the pirates; as it was a dead end.

"Here goes nothing..." Emile felt that perhaps the pirate side would be more beneficial to him. He gave himself a dose of raw adrenaline from his backpack. He shuddered as the hormone coursed through his body. Then, he used the Force to distort the light beams heading his way, causing him to be nearly invisible. Not nearly enough.

It was just his luck that he happened to pass through the pirate lines where one happened to be particularly scared of ghosts and other paranormal paraphenelia. The pirate shot at Emile. Thankfully, he missed, but Emile had to zap the pirate with his stun whip. He made his way to the pirate "commander" and tried to explain the situation. Thankfully, they let him fight with them with a gruff, "If it can shoot, it can fight."

Emile moved forward to the pirate front line, and then past it with the help of Force Cloak during a momentary lull in the fighting; which the forces used to examined their wounded and reload their weapons.


During his stint in medical school, he took Psychology as a minor. One of his lessons held the theory, that people not knowing what happened to their comrades will be impacted more emotionally than just seeing one of them die. (Plus, Emile was just against killing in general.) Time to put that theory to the test.

When he was within range of the enemy line for his stun whip, he found the perfect target. A female soldier staring ahead, scanning the battlefield. He gently coaxed the stun whip along the ground using the force, and used it to slowly wrap around the chest of the soldier. She had just turned around to say something to someone behind her when Emile jerked the whip back, and caused the cord to tighten around her chest. He then sprinted back to the pirate lines, dragging the screaming soldier behind him.

Instant chaos.

The pirates jeered and laughed and resumed firing at the now terrified security guards. He noticed that a lot less troopers were keen to poke their heads up above the crude ramparts.


Now for his captive.

He wrapped the cord more securely around her arms, and thrust her down to the floor. She bucked and screamed, but the sight of a hypodermic needle inches from her face stopped her. "You are now going to remain very still while I take the stun whip off of you. Is that clear?" She glared at him, but nodded. He unwound the stun whip from around her, and flipped her over so that she was on her belly. He forced her arms behind her and shackled them there with her own handcuffs. He then crossed her ankles, and tied them together with a plastic zip-tie. He flipped her back over onto her back.

"Now, you are going to tell me two things." She spat in his face. "Don't make this any harder on yourself than it has to," Emile kept his voice at a deadly calm tone, "Now, please tell me the code to the Sentinel - Class ship in the hangar that you undoubtably impounded." Her eyes widened in recognition, but it quickly went out as she tried to lie to him. "I don't know of any sh-" Emile's anger cranked up a notch, "DON'T LIE TO ME!" She stammered, "I- I-" Emile grinned fiercely at her, "Forget it. I'll take you with me back to the ship, and we'll see if you would rather talk then being tossed out of an airlock." He was bluffing, of course, but she didn't know that.

He then gagged her with a piece of tape. She squirmed and screamed, but it only came out as a muffled moan. In a stroke of humor, Emile wrote with a marker on the tape: Property of Emile, to prevent any of the pirates from taking her for themselves.

He smiled. Now, he had a hostage, a way to get his ship back, and a way to get at any confiscated materials the security had taken. It was going to be a good day.

 

[Lupe]

Th battle raged on, Lucius could hear it, in fact he was sure anybody on the station could hear the instruments of war hard at work. The sounds brought him back to the battlefields of the Mandalorian Civil War, particularly Fenris. Hopefully this situation will only share minimal resemblance to Fenris, for Lucius' sake, he only escaped Fenris alive through sheer luck and a little bit of fate. He knew that to pull the same stunt twice would require the intervention of some higher being than himself. Still, he did not fear death, for he had already faced it one time to many that now his resolve is made of pure beskar. He also had credits to make, and if anything motivated Lucius to do something that he is slightly unwilling to do, it's credits, and maybe, just maybe, lots of booze and hookers, but credits usually led to the rest, so he was set on credits.

Thus, the bounty hunter made his way past the bodies of his enemies that fell by his design, only to be stopped by a groan. The groan came from one of the pirates that had survived the frag grenade due to steel plates underneath his armor, stopping most of the shrapnel. Still, the man was clearly dying and only had a few moments to spare before his last breath left him, but he was set on using those last few breaths. He motioned for Lucius to come over. Curious, the bounty hunter complied and kneeled beside the dying man. The pirate looked up at his enemy with eyes full of sorrow and regret, Lucius had seen the look before, on dying recruits, and by the looks of the pirate he seemed to be a new recruit as well.

"I.....I don't want to die......" whimpered the young pirate, eyes showing signs of tears.

Lucius looked down solemnly, he had been through this hundreds, maybe thousands of times before on various occasions, but no matter how many times he experienced it, it had never gotten any easier. What made it worse now, was that the kid was dying because of his own design, and there was nothing Lucius could do.

"I know." said the bounty hunter, simply, as he clasped his foe's hand in his, holding him as if he had been a comrade in battle.

The pirate coughed up some blood, and squirmed about before speaking again "I don't want a die a bad person....." he looked down for a second, contemplating and then looked up again, his eyes still teary but a hope shone in them "Do you think if I help you find the merchants that it will make up for what I've done......?" he asked simply, as a child would to his parent in a fit of curiosity.

"I'm not one to judge kid, but I'm sure it would be a start" said the experienced soldier, still grasping the young pirates hand. He was not one to judge, for he himself had committed hundreds of atrocities, things any man would be ashamed of. He tried to get rid of the guilt by saying it was all because of orders, but he knew that he had a choice to go against them. He chose to commit those horrible acts, like a man with no soul, like a droid, but he tried to make up for those acts every day. That's exactly why he had left the Clans to strike it out on his own.

Sadly there was no such choice for this dying pirate, and he knew it. "Ok....." the pirate gasped, his breathing getting shallow and hard to hear, he pulled out a datapad from his pocket with a little difficulty and imputed a few commands before handing it to the bounty hunter. Lucius looked at it once he retrieved it, on it was the coordinates of where the merchants were being held by the pirates. By the time Lucius looked back up, his comrade was dead, his grasp limp and his eyes closed. The experienced soldier simply looked down for a few moments of silence, but quickly got up and made his way down the hall towards the firefight between the guards and the pirates, he had no time for grieving.

Lucius came to the end of the hallway and crouched down, using the wall as cover as he leaned in to see what the situation looked like. As far as he could see, he was at the flank of the security guards, which meant that he had just stopped a flanking squad, probably a good thing for the guards. Still, it was pretty clear that the guards would not be able to hold off against the pirate threat for long, without some serious help. Especially considering that the guards were poorly organized compared to the pirates, who were being led by a surprisingly good captain. Lucius knew that he would only be able to play a support role in the whole scheme of things, he wasn't a foot soldier anymore. Still, he considered it best to at least introduce himself to the guards, so that he'd be able to acquire his reward later.

Thus he ran from his cover in the hallway and made his way towards the guard's front lines from behind. He was quickly met with frenzied fire from the pirate's lines, but luckily he was moving to quickly, and they were too far, to have a chance at hitting him. Eventually he reached the guard's lines and one of the guards turned around, quickly pointing his gun at the intruder. "Who are you?!" demanded the guard, his finger ready to pull the trigger.

Lucius reacted by simply putting up his hands and saying calmly "I'm here to help."

"How do I know you're not lying?!" continued the suspicious guard, it was clear to the bounty hunter that the man was not very trusting. Still, he could also tell that the guard was tired, and wanted help, in fact needed it.

Thus Lucius remained calm and answered "You don't, but I'm the best chance you got to defeat the pirates"

The guard gave an eye of contempt and hate, almost pulling the trigger for no particular reason except that he was stressed, but he didn't, he simply lowered his weapon and motioned for the bounty hunter to come on. He knew just as well as everybody else that any help was to be accepted, because they sorely needed it. Lucius, of course, followed his host towards the front lines. The guards were behind a sort of duracrete wall that resembled the front of a bunker, why it was there, Lucius didn't know and didn't, all he knew is that the wall would provide adequate protection.

 

[The Kyzer]

Running as quickly as possible, Kylis was moving at a nice trot when his armor's audio receivers picked up the sound of people talking. He slowed to a cautious walk and walked up to the nearest cross hall way. Peering around the corner, he saw a fortified choke point manned by a rather haggard and mismatching bunch of sentients. The fortifications were just as disparate, and looked as though they'd been dragged from other parts of the station, but none of this established who ran the choke point for sure. Only the random emblems that had been hastily painted on the duracrete barricades underneath the heavy repeaters could adequately perform that task.

Pirates, Kylis confirmed as he checked the ammo levels of his weaponry. He then drew a single grenade and took a deep breath. He primed the grenade and hurled it around the corner. The Sand Panther then drew both of his Taskmaster pistols and mentally counted down the timer on the grenade. He began moving just after the device exploded violently with a loud thump.

Kylis' first look at the pirate strong point was one showing a rather chaotic and unorganized position. His grenade had only exacerbated this summary. The heavy repeaters had been rendered useless by the explosion, and several pieces of pirate limbs were now strewn all through the hallway. The armored warrior was already moving past the barricades when the surviving pirates realized what was happening. Sadly, none of them managed to fully recover before a barrage of blaster bolts pierced their bodies.

"Alright Rex," Kylis said to his astromech via his armor's built-in comlink, "Do you know the closest path to the remaining Station guards' positions?"

A quick affirmative beep was followed by the appearance of a glowing path appearing on his HUD.

"Thanks buddy," the incognito captain replied.

Kylis/Sand Panther started off at a run after reloading and holstering his pistols. He brought his HCR to a ready-position as he moved. The captain had just brought it up when a luckless pirate turned the corner drinking a cup of caf. The Rodian's eyes widened suddenly just before his chest cavity was punctured by twelve blaster bolts. Kylis was a bit disappointed in his rather rash action, but there was no time to second-guess himself now.

 

[Sleven]

OOC: There's not much for me to post here. The Wanderer isn't the type to just wantonly throw himself into a firefight. If you don't notice him or finish up the firefight quickly, feel free to skip me in the next round of posts.

Luckily for him there wasn’t. The med bay had already been mostly cleaned out by the handwork of something. As the Wanderer approached he tightened the grip on his carbine, unsure of what to expect around the next corner or through the next corridor. As he began to move freely, the Wanderer began to hope that he would encounter no opposition on his way to the lifts. Halting before the noise of an ongoing firefight, his hopes had been shattered.

Little did he know, the way he had taken followed the warpath of a man named Lucius whom he had yet to meet. Peering out he noted a man in a black metallic suite amongst the ragtag group of remaining security guards, a peculiar sight given their uniformity. Having to decide between life and death, the Wanderer often chose the path of least resistance. And oh how he loathed anything that stuck him in one place for too long, let alone while getting shot at. He would be waiting this one out until a victor had been decided, or at least plotting his way past the current line of fire to the lifts so he could make his way off the station.