Log:Dros Delivered to First Order

Dros Delivered to First Order

OOC Date: August 22, 2019
Location: Ziro, Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Angouri Dros, Kylo Ren, Oran Arcantael, Ravelyn, Sumi Kora

Interior, GBT Kyber Heart

This area is, in its standard incarnation, little more than a cargo hold. Gray durasteel plating on the floors and bulkheads. Where crew bunks and cargo storage attachments used to be, prisoner cells now reside. Six total cubicles with shielded front walls are where Bounty Hunters can store criminals that they have detained. Three on one side of the cargo hold, three on the other facing one another. Each is large enough for an adult male wookiee to sit or stand inside of.

At the aft of the cargo hold is dominated by a large ramp that lifts up and down to let crew board as well as cargo be hauled into the ship. At the fore of the hold is the durasteel hatch that leads into the Cockpit and right before reaching htis hatch is an access ladder that can be retracted into the floor/ceiling... this ladder gives access to the upper turret gun well.

The first thing that Angouri Dros, amaran, tech junkie, and fledgling Jedi becomes aware of is the pain in her head. And then the pain in her side. And the pain in her leg - why does everything hurt? Her mouth is dry. With a groan, the blackness that has become her awareness transitions to a muddy, blurry grayscale.

Or maybe her surroundings are just ugly.

"Th'-? ...Urf." Groggily, Angouri rolls to her side and blinks, the world slowly coming to one piece. She remembers. "Chewie's hairy nutsack." She swears, sitting up suddenly with a wave of nausea.

<"Hello there.">

The voice comes from the Mandalorian who is seated on the other side of the energy barrier polishing a BlasTech EE-3 blaster carbine. <"I thought you might be a flight risk. I hate runners, Ms. Dros."> The visored helmet tilts up and the woman nods in the Amaran's direction. <"I left you some water to drink. It is fresh and cool. It should help with that headache you probably have."> Sumi had been stunned before. She knew exactly how it felt.

"Dros?" Angouri blinks, confused, squinting one eye shut. "Ain't know no 'Dros'. Hmmmm Dros, Dros, Dros... Oh! That'un. Heard about that Jedi folk on th'holonet. Cryin' shame, seems you've made a mistake; simple racist one, happened a lot t'me lately. Can't just go stunnin' every amaran ya see." She clears her throat, the lie... Well, it's obvious. "I'll accept yer full apology. Do some community service with underprivileged amarans after this t'clear yer conscience, happens t'the best of us." She tries to flash a grin as she moves to the indicated water.

<"Rationalize it how you want, Ms. Dros, it will not alter your current predicament. I've arranged for a custody transfer. It may be a few hours, but you'll be given to the First Order."> Sumi runs a rag over the emphasized receiver of her EE-3. <"What's your story anyway? Who did you piss off to earn a bounty like this?"> Sumi pauses and looks up toward the Amaran.

With a groan, Angouri flops to the floor, flicking her tail into her lap. "Some Sith with an attitude, ain't sure of a name. Came after me on Nar, didn't /do/ nothin'. Just... Gettin' a drink after work. /Was/ a weaponsmith, afore this price on m'head." She grunts, pressing her paws against her rumpled tunic. "Hmf... Find anythin' good?" The incarcerated amaran snorts, for all appearances resigned to her current predicament. "Next time, s'customary t'buy a gal a drink first." She squints at the Mandalorian, her head tilting. "That helmet got more'n just vocoder on it, yeh?"

The Amaran surprises a laugh from Sumi. <"A most unfortunate encounter, I'm sure."> She shakes her head. <"It is standard procedure. It's nothing personal."> Sumi thought to add more to that but she wasn't sure that empathizing with the Amaran would prepare her for the scenario that lay ahead. <"Had it been any other circumstance, we might have laughed over Nerfherding and enjoyed a chilly spiced ale."> Angouri's question about the helm makes Sumi smile. <"It has a number of amenities. Scanning, enhanced optics and auditory interface, heads up display. Pretty standard tech. I'm an old galaxy girl."> Meaning she wasn't up with all the fancy doodads.

"Maybe next time." The prisoner shrugs, eyeing the barrier and the layout of the ship beyond it. The ladder probably leads to the gunner compartment, could she use that? She should get out, first. "Been doin' some work with similar tech. S'good stuff - smart stuff - if yer prey is full'a fool. Like me. Good helmet an' a vocal modulator coulda done me wonders." She huffs, her arms jerking as she attempts to cross them, but they encounter the constraints. Her manacled paws fall to her lap, instead, idly mussing with her tail. "Trick is gettin' it t'filter out th'modulated audio. T'get smarter 'bout recognizin' disguises, buildin' algorithms t'anticipate shape changes. Could give it an update, if ya wanted. Costs about... 100 big 'uns - big upgrade, y'know. Or release me an' we call it even?" She knows that one isn't going to work, she is talking to fill the silence and keep the gut-sinking feeling of dread at bay... It doesn't work very well, and her expression inevitably darkens again. The tinkerer clears her throat after a moment of sullen silence. "So. What's yer story, anyway? Humor me, will ya? I'm about t'die in th'most painful way you cin imagine." She seems flippant, but as she says it, Angouri's ears pin back against the flat of her skull. Her mouth goes a little drier.

The offer to upgrade and release her is met with a long, pregnant silence indicative of the Mandalorian's resilience to the plan. She had already made calls, things were in motion. Instead, Sumi takes on the silent observer role and watches the Amaran wrestle with the inevitability of her situation. It stung her heart to watch Angouri pin her ears back in defeat.

<"My Alor used to say that the impossible things that lay ahead of your path become possible by taking the next step. I do not envy you. But I have been where you are before. Defeat is not a physical ailment, it's mental."> Sumi shifts when the conversation turns toward her. <"I was a Mandalorian back before the Clone Wars. During the height of your.."> She gestures toward the Amaran. <"..Order. When Jedi were real, and often times, the heroes of the Republic.">

"Dun' think being captured an' turned over to th'First Order is a mental affliction, no offense." Angouri huffs. "Didn't want none'a this, fer th'record. Didn't ask fer no powers, didn't plan on usin' 'em any till folks started findin' me an' tellin' me it was special. Wasn't usin' 'em when that Oran bastard came after me." But she knows that there is no use in her petulant grumbling, so the amaran draws her knees to her chest, wincing at the motion. She took a hard fall during capture, she must have tweaked something, somewhere.

Wouldn't matter much longer.

"Mandalorian, eh? Coulda guessed." She gestures up and down at her captor's armor, the motion requiring both hands in their bound state. "But yer old school, old school then. Know well enough not t'take sides, since you seen 'em both rise an' fall - huh, Granny?"

Angouri makes Sumi laugh again. It comes in two waves, the first being the sarcasm behind guessing 'what' Sumi was, but the second was her use of Granny. <"It's credits. Sadly, I need them to stay alive. What people stand for, and all that political drek just does not appeal to me. History has a tendency to repeat itself. I just try to make a living in all the shifting tides of violence.">

<"Tell me about your friends. No names or locations. Are they the criminals they are made out to be? Are you?">

"You an' me both. Didn't get much'a choice on my end, though, was tinkerin' with blasters an' some guy came up, said he 'felt Force on me' er whatever, real creepy like. Next thing I know, I'm flyin' around gettin' beat t'kriff by wrathtars an' chased by fashion-blind folks with red lightsabers. Smugglin' food t'locals an' all that goody-goody work, savin' folks from pirates - no, we ain't criminals. They ain't, at least. I'm hardly a Jedi, but you know that." The amaran teenager leans back and flops to the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

"First Order twists it. Got th'same goal they always had, just under a diff'rent name... But you lived it, already, Gran. Don't think I need to clarify." She laughs. "Like my bounty? Resisting arrest, unlawful use'a Force - can't remember th'rest of it. Wasn't no arrest attempt, was just tryin' ta kill me. Had me in a choke, tellin' me I was a waste of th'gift - an' I fought back, some locals in th'bar helped out an' I escaped. Now I'm here. Ain't a lick'a morals to it, but - hey. Least it pays well."

If Sumi had been poised to say something, an alarm sounding from the cockpit cut her off. Her head tilts as if listening to something only she can hear. <<"Understood.">> Sumi rises and takes hold of her carbine, chicken-winging the buttstock under one arm. <"We're here."> Is all she says to Angouri. Then Sumi steps from view, disappearing into the cockpit as the ship begins to rumble. Whatever lay ahead of Angouri, it began in the next few moments.

Ziro, FO Base, Hutt District, Nar Shaddaa

Ziro Outpost may not be as heavily staffed as in days prior, but a small garrison still maintains a token presence on the Smuggler's Moon. As such, only a handful of First Order staff are present in the central hub: a uniformed reception officer, a few pairs of stormtroopers watching over the entrance, and little else.

That is the case until a tall man in a black tunic with a heavy cape trailing behind him strides into the room with no escort in tow. A distinctive scar marks his face from brow to collar, and he looks around the room with obvious expectation. "Where is the bounty hunter?" Kylo demands of the desk staffer.

"We are awaiting their arrival, Supreme Leader," the young woman responds properly, jumping to the position of attention.

"Good. Open the doors immediately when they arrive. The prisoner is a threat to galactic peace."

"Did they say which one it was?" The voice is unmistakeable for those who know it; wealthy Coruscanti accents stick out as uncommon here. And maybe everywhere, other than the upper levels of Coruscant. Oran exits the turbo lift in a swish of dark robes, looking even shorter than usual against the Supreme Leader's height. But, that's life. To the desk-attendant, he raises a brow, "I trust an appropriate holding cell has been made ready, along with the appropriate auxiliary equipment."

Something about 'equipment' seems rather ominous.

Word is sent that the Bounty Hunter and her mark have arrived. In the moments that follow, the Mandalorian in blue plate appears escorting Angouri Dros. The Amaran's hands are bound and linked to a chain that is held in Sumi's offhand. Meanwhile, she has chickenwinged the buttstock of a modified EE-3 Carbine with the barrel held at the neck level of Sumi's charge.

Sumi is quiet until she is addressed, but when they come into range, she slows to a stop and lowers her weapon out of habit.

The bounty hunter may be silent, but her charge definitely isn't. "Really, y'don't have to go through all this trouble fer little ol' me." Angouri protests, digging her furry feet against the slick ground. "I'm tellin' ya, it's just a simple, racist mistake. I can't blame ya, I mean, it's th'fur an' the long faces - we all really /do/ all look th'same, it's an easy mistake, it is."

"No, they didn't," Kylo responds flatly to Oran's question. "Though if it was the girl, we'd know. And it'd be more than one hunter." Then the pair enter, and it becomes very clear it's not the girl. "This is one of yours," he recognizes when he sees the Amaran, glancing over at Oran. "Weak, but it's there."

The desk attendant who buzzed Sumi and Angouri in nods curtly. "Of course, all the necessary preparations have been made. We've moved the newest equipment available into cell one."

Because there aren't enough terifying figures in here yet, another arrives announced by heavy footfalls that echo in the halls as Ravelyn approaches. "What have we here?" the vocoded voice carries through the mask, head turning to inspect Angouri as she's pulled in by Sumi.

"A simple racist mistake?" Oran laughs at Angouri. He has a definite laughing-at aspect to him, and not a laughing-with. "Really." Tsk, tsk, he shakes his head, and slowly begins to circle the pair of Mando and furry teen. "Do you honestly imagine that anyone's hand would be stayed if you /were/ the wrong, disposable alien? You'd be shot and dumped with the rest of the useless refuse. I suggest you reconsider your story and adopt a new role as the /correct/ person."

Oran stops his circle when he's back in front of them, and raises a brow. "But even had you chosen to stick with your unskillful lying -- that worked out well last time, didn't it? -- you're distinctive. I recognize the irritating manner in which you're incapable of speaking correct Basic, and we can read you like a very stupid book." He smiles. "Welcome to Ziro, Angouri Dros." He glances to Sumi. "You will be paid every credit of the sum your exemplary work has earned."

Sumi maintains her reverent silence and stands without falter. At Oran's admission of payment, the Mandalorian extends her offhand which contains the very chain she used to lead her mark to this point. <"I found this one on Naboo enjoying the retreat in Kaadara. She was armed only with these.."> Sumi lowers her EE-3 carbine by making use of a sling that tightened around her shoulder. Her hand disappears beneath the confines of her tattered blue cape, returning a moment later to produce a cylindrical stunsaber, and a Resistance marked EL-718 blaster pistol. She places both items upon the nearby counter, then takes her weapon back up, resuming her quiet vigil as the First Order command reviews the Amaran's situation.

The fear floods through the amaran's veins like an injection of ice. "Really, it's okay. I'll accept yer apologies an' be on my way, this has all been very spooky, I'll spread th'word through the galaxy." But when the other figures come into full view, she goes silent and begins to strain against the binds and her captor in earnest, her eyes wide and ears pinned tight against her skull. No, no, no, no. "Yeh, ye made yer superiority /very/ clear last time, what with all th'assholery." She snarls at Oran, her feet still jammed against the floor straining in feral terror to pull her away from this situation. In complete vain.

With two of his agents in the room and the various usual security, Kylo nods to Oran. "I'll leave it to you. Bring her to the base once you've finished here. I have questions I'd like answered." As he sweeps past the desk to board the turbolift, he instructs the staffer, "Make sure she's paid," and then the doors zip shut behind him.

"Of course. Your payment amounts to three hundred fifty thousand galactic credits. One moment while I withdraw the funds," the staffer informs Sumi with a curt nod, dropping her eyes below the desk.

"You caught this one on Naboo?" asks Ravelyn, stepping closer to Anagouri to get a better look. A low chuckle is carried through the vocoder as the helmet turns to look at Sumi next. "Good." A moment is spent measuring the Mandalorian woman up, and then the Knight turns to Oran. "I wonder if this one will prove to be any use at all."

"Thaaaaassshoolerrrrry," Oran mocks Angouri's accent. "If you thought it was bad before, Puppy, you're in for quite the shock. I do mean that literally." He accepts the chain from Sumi, and promptly reels it in a bit to bring the girl closer, on a taut line. "Don't try anything cute. You're in a bad spot and you know it." To the bounty hunter, a nod, and he accepts the items she took off Angouri. Special interest is given the stun saber, which he pronounces to be, "/Silly/," in a tone dripping contempt. But for the hunter herself, another nod, and a crook of a smile. "As always -- a pleasure to conduct business with you."

Oran points to two of the troopers near the door, "You and you -- with me." They don't question it; they obey and come along promptly. With the fox on a chain, Oran raises a brow at Ravelyn. "Probably not. We'll see at any rate. Come with us, you can talk to," gesture at Angouri, "That, and no doubt enjoy the experience. We're going to Spearhead." A yank on the chain, and they're off!

Relieved of her responsibility to the captive Jedi now, Sumi crosses her weapon casually over her front and remains vigilant under the scrutiny of Ravelyn's gaze. Internally, Sumi felt squeamish around such absolute power, but the gift of beskar'gam kept her true expression from being seen. She adjusts only to take her payment, then nods when Oran appreciates her service. <"With nothing further, I'll take my leave."> Sumi turns then, a gentle rustle of tattered cape, and is escorted out by a pair of stormtroopers.

"No use at all, none really." Angouri continues to protest. "Ain't even a proper Jedi, I didn't wanna be no Jedi, honest!" Are there tears? It looks like there are tears. She never did master those meditation exercises. As her chain is handed off, the amaran whimpers, still straining against the binds. "I didn't do nothin', I never did nothin'!" She pleads, turning after Sumi. "Ya don't have t'do it, I'll give ya the money - I'll give ya th'creds!" When Oran reels her in, she gives another whimper that quickly becomes a snarl as she attempts to yank away... It's in vain, completely. "I didn't do nothin'!" She cries once more as she is dragged towards the door, still yelling after the bounty hunter. "I didn't do nothin'!"

"Spearhead?" There's surprise in that that carries through the vocoder as Ravelyn turns to look at Oran again. "Spearhead it is." A motion is made for Oran to take the lead, the armored Knight will follow. "Not a Jedi, didn't want to be one," Ravelyn repeats. "Which implies that you were becoming one against your desires. Isn't that interesting. Go on, tell us more about how you didn't want to be a Jedi, little one."

Oran stops walking and rolls his eyes when Angouri insists she didn't do anything, she didn't - she didn't do anything. He turns around and holds a hand toward her, and just like last time, she feels herself seized by a power she can't control or defend herself against. Have the Jedi warned her against tipping into the darkness? It's just telekinesis, how can it be bad? This is how. Like this. With contempt, malice, anger and derision feeding Oran's command of the Force, inextricably woven into the power. This is what they warned. This is the dark side, and it's closing her throat, yanking her forward until her jaw rests briefly in his gloved hand. As she struggles to breathe, he smiles, and answers what she did wrong.

"You exist."

The power abruptly ceases, he turns, and with another yank of the chain -- spearhead it is.

Angouri's voice echoes in Sumi's mind as she casually walks out.

She exists - that's always been the problem, hasn't it? The amaran's eyes roll desperately in her skull as her bound paws try to claw at her throat.

She can't breathe. She can't /think/ - reflexively, she snaps her jaws desperately at Oran's hand like the animal she's been reduced to... Or has always been? Who knows. She was never a good Jedi, either. "They... They didn't.... Force me." She gasps, her voice broken and raspy. "Please. I didn't... I didn't do nothin'...." And there's nothing she can do.

Ravelyn simply goes quiet to watch the display of force as Anagouri is pulled over and dangles from Oran's hand. When she's dropped, the armored Knight turns to continue moving with Oran. "Maybe she'll prove to be useful after all." Which in some circumstances might be a good thing. Being useful to the Knights of Ren when you're their prisoner? Ominous at the very least.