Log:First Order/Resistance/Hutt Cartel: Dutch Courage
A riot sparks a confrintation between the Citizens, First Order, Hutt Cartel and the Resistance
OOC Date: Dec 17, 2017
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Fuze, Triz Dermout, Sugg, Por Por Frils, Narsai Ordo, The Resistance, Kath Hounds, First Order
It began, naturally, in a bar. Where else would you find people with too little self-control to stop themselves railing publically about Eebua Gnuda and the Hutt presence? Hard liquor fuels Dutch courage, and so the group spills into the street, chanting and shouting and jostling, more liquor feeding their anger as other bars empty to investigate the noise. What began with a few blowhards is now heading towards larger-scale trouble. There are Hutt informants - possibly even agent provocateurs - in the crowd, and soon it's brewing into a riot. A Hutt security speeder coming to investigate comes under attack by thrown bottles and lumps of duracrete and beats a hasty retreat, one of the crew bloodied and limp.
Single patrol, again. With the small contingent of Resistance pilots it's more the norm to send one fighter up. Most days and nights there is little to do and so most of these patrols have become dreaded. But it's flying and thus Triz has taken more than her fair share of these patrols. High over the duracreate canyon walls that is Nar Shaddaa, with the glow of her instruments lighting her face the X-Wing hums along, unseen and unheard by those so far down below her.
When the comms unit crackles with her flight ID Triz says to her Droid "Gee, wonder what's up now. Maybe another sewer back up to go investigate," sarcastically before answering back. <<Spark Fours we have reports of a near riot breaking out in sector Alpha Alpha Seventy Two, investigate.>> A quick check of her location and a vector to the reported sector Triz does respond <<Copy that, Tac, Spark Four going to take a look see.>>
At 5'2, this human isn't exactly tall. The pale skinned figure's deep red hair sits messy at her shoulders and the tips are often done up in some bright color or another. She's got bangs that could obscure her vision if not for her constantly brushing it away from her face. Her eyes are a soft green, with a hint of wild light in them. Lithe and toned the woman has the body and grace of a dancer with the light footed skill of a warrior.
Perhaps the truest evidence of her femininity is her slim perfectly shaped figure, enough to make one look twice. A toned and flat belly blends into a slim waist and then gives way to the curvy flare of her hips and long, powerful legs. Commonly She wears a fitted suit of body armor almost reminicent of a 'shadowsuit' but clearly formed to function as a flight suit.
The outer surface of the armor is comprised leather-like fibre weave with beskar'gem plating that offers a greater mobility at the cost of some protection. The blue-black armor fits perfectly against her body's major areas, figure hugging to the point one might wonder how she moves so easily. While the suit clings to her form like a second skin secured to her hip in a holster her pistol commonly rests along with a few other items on her belt.
The Thunderheart was -finally- repaired. After the terrorist attack by some less-cautious hutt-opposers who'd killed thousands of civillians and some of the Mandalorian's own people in their attack had damaged both craft, Narsai's prized possession was back fully functional. The Mandalorian woman within ran her fingers over the console almost lovingly when sounds of glass shattering and angry chanting fill the starport district. That can't be good.
Sighing a little, she broadcasts a closed signal for the Mandalorians on the landing pad to withdraw and prepair to raise shields on the Malachor while doing the same on her ship. They weren't going to get caught in the crossfire again if someone did something stupid.
Below, threading their way through the duracrete canyons, comes a flight of two TIEs; a bomber and an /SF fighter, the fighter leading, whipping through the buildings like it was on a wire. They're moving fast, and when they turn a corner and level out it's maybe fifty feet above the street. The mob look up as the twin ion engines' noise reaches their perception, but by then it's too late, the ships have come on past and have disappeared around the next bend. "Damn First Order bastards!" yells one, and there's a roar of agreement.
Nearing the area Triz takes her little X-Wing down for a closer look. Trying to find the 'riot' that was broadcast to her. "DATE, scan the area, see if you can find out where this is supposed to be happening. I can't see anything." The R2 unit behind her beeps as it goes to work. Just at the tops of the tallest buildings, the Resistance pilot leans over to one side and then the other as she tries to find this riot. "I don't see anything," she grouses to herself as she takes the fighter a bit lower still. <<Tactical, I don't see anything. Can you get me a better fix on where this is supposed to be?>> She calls back and waits as the tactical folks back at Hound Base try to get better information.
For their own part, the Mandalorian vessels are taking off. A 'routine flight'. Neutrality ment on all sides, they were not the security or the aggressors and the orders of their leader stood. The fact that the leader also happened to be Narsai's brother? That made it a little more complicated. As her ship began to rise she blinks, peering down at her scopes. "X-Wing class?" she repeats. Sure she'd met a few who owned an old one, but they hadn't been around for a while.
On the ground, in the Spaceport district, a full-blown riot is happening. Rocks and bottles are flying towards anything that reeks of Hutt. It's small by rioting standards, maybe a hundred drunken blowhards, but speeders are being overturned, windows broken. Turning for a second run, the lead TIE/SF fighter comes in for an even lower overpass. "Any lower and you'll be breaking heads," ED-1492 comments dryly from the gunner's position. Fuze just grins, "Keep an eye out for fighters in the air." The trailing craft, a TIE bomber, slows right down as it overpasses at a more sensible altitude, and as it comes past an amplified voice booms down. "DISPERSE. YOU ARE ORDERED TO DISPERSE."
At long last after turning another corner Triz is able to find the riot. "I think I have it, right ahead, DATE," she tells the droid who beeps back at her. <<Tac, I have a small fight it seems like, a few hundred folks, maybe. Just another night on Nar Shaddaa I believe>>. She banks the small craft in a right hand turn and weaves in and out of the spires that are now beginning to tower over her as Spark 4 continues it's decent. <<I'll go take a closer look and report what I find,>> she tells the folks back at the base.
Riots in the Starport District are likely a bit more common than they once were, though the intent behind them are all quite misguided, so say the Hutt Cartel. It all becomes quite personal to Sugg where he is on the ground as speeders start getting overturned. The Rodian had been watching from a distance, reclined comfortably on his speeder until the crowds turned his way. "Oh thit," he curses in Basic, his lisp unhelpable. "Turn your atheth around," he yells at the mob. "Thith won't end good for you," he yells as he slips his blaster from his hip and fires up his speeder.
TIE's coming in? That makes Narsai frown, but the Thunderheart doesn't go fleeing just yet. Adjusting her controls for a moment she checks the readout. Shields are at full...just in case. So far the rather unique craft just hovers near the sideline, kept from following after her people by a mixture of caution and curiousity.
Rocks are thrown at the TIEs, although none hit, and then some wiseass draws a blaster and takes a potshot at the slow-passing bomber. It splatters harmlessly against the shields, but the bomber pilot is quick to react, accelerating smoothly. At the end of the street the bomber rises sharply, spins on its axis, and dives back for what appears to be a strafing run. Those veterans of the old wars will recognize that for what it is, and the crowd begins to panic, a group rushing towards Sugg on his speeder. "Get the speeder and get out of here!" screams a portly man, panting to keep up with the others who are following his lead from the back. As the TIE bomber comes in, cannisters are flung out from the underside in an inverted V-pattern, clattering to the ground spewing noxious smoke. It's a vile chemical causing blurry vision, disorientation and projectile vomiting to many sentient species. One cannister hits a young human female on the head and she goes down to be trampled by the surging mob. Several hundred feet above, Fuze is skimming her TIE to cover the bomber, her gunner scanning above /her/ lest there be any unexpected visitors.
As Triz rounds the next corner she finds her self face to face with the TIE Bomber headed right at her as it dispenses the canisters. "Oh crap!" she exclaims as she yanks back on the stick of the X-Wing making it climb upwards to avoid a head on. "Where the hell did that come from?" She asks no one in particular in an elevated voice. She turns the fighter quickly, around a building as she tries to make a way back to the bomber. "DATE, scan the skies, if there is one there is another."
Sugg's eyes widen in shock as the crowd yells and heads his way. "Thon of a Bitth," he curses as he fires a shot at the man that yelled for the crowd to take his swoop. The shot is ridiculously wide, however, and the Rodian is quick to gun the accelerator on the swoop bike and rockets forward. He aims for the side of a building and leans to the left, pulling all of his weight to that side as he 'gooses' the throttle and cuts toward the building, seeking to pivot the swoop sideways and race along the face of the building, just above the crowd's head.
Neutrality is an akward thing, especially when mixed with morality. But orders were orders, and a Mandlorian follows Mandalore. Her ship still hovering, Narsai keys her own open channel, broadcasting to the TIE's but likely picked up by the others. <<This is Thunderheart to bombers. You've made your point and the people are running. Wave off before more people die needlessly in this damn spaceport.>>
"Contact, contact, looks like an X-wing! Dammit, Fuze, Gungan, either of you, get that sonofabitch off me!" barks the bomber pilot on the encrypted frequency as he instinctively breaks right and up, nearly splattering himself across one of the buildings - the shields spark and fizz at the near-contact. Up above, Fuze spots the skyrocketing Triz and grins happily. "That you, babe?" she broadcasts on the open frequency, her TIE surging forwards to engage. The exposed oil-streaked belly of the X-wing looms large in her HUD targeting scope, and with a radiant smile she gently squeezes the trigger, the plasma streaking across towards Triz's ship.
Down below rocks are thrown at Sugg's speeder, and an unwisely thrown Molotov cocktail splatters into flame as it misses and falls back into the crowd, people scattering and cursing and swearing.
The TIE bomber pilot gets on the comms back to Narsai: "Bomber to Thunderheart. Who the hell are you?" he demands arrogantly. "We are coming under fire. We are entitled to fire back." He circles, hunting for Triz as well lest he be caught in a crossfire.
Triz grins as she gains the position she wants on the bomber. A few more weaves and she fires at the craft. It is just as soon as she does that Fuze's words come and right along with it the laser bolts <<Well there you are. Figured you were licking your wounds>> she replies as she cranes her neck around trying to get an idea of where Fuze is at. A sharp turn around one building to the right and then another to the left. <<So where are you hiding at?>>. She tries to sound calm on the open comms while in the cockpit she is working as hard as she can.
Snoogla 1 is having a difficult time locating the X-Wing. <<Deysa be snickkin' amid dese buildings,>> he warns the bomber, pulling up on the yoke and sending the V-Wing careening higher to try to get an eye on the Resistance fighter (or whoever's flying that thing). Inside the cockpit, Por Por Fril's helmeted head twists to and fro, his eyestalks raised as he strains to spot the fighter, his computers scanning. "Ahh, dere yousa be," he murmurs as the sensors finally ping the offending craft on his scanner screen.
Riding sideways on a building is a tenuous thing, especially on a swoop capable of breakneck speeds. The Rodian swooper can sense the tell-tale vibration in the framework of the swoop as it begins to lose traction and slip toward the ground. He holds on long enough to angle the swoop toward the crowd beneath him and then lets go. Pressing with his legs, Sugg tried to somersault off of the swoop and land on his feet on the ground. Holding tight to his blaster, he squeezes the trigger at the nearest mobber, and slices with his large bowie knife at the next in line. He scans for the location of his crashed speeder before he tries to make it back to the craft.
<<Someone with bigger guns then all of you and less patience. You take your fight elsewhere...>> Of course, she's speaking back to the TIE bomber, but her channel is open enough all parties involved can hear it. As if to make a point, the Mandalorian vessel powers up its weapons. <<We're not going to have stray fire and crashing ships kill our people here again.>> She's aware of the Gungan's ship...it's kinda hard to miss the water-dweller pilot's speaking. Seems they're intending to chase the Resistance pilot though, which is better then engaging her.
Fuze's first blasts fly past the jinking weaving Triz, who is more accurate with her own shots; the bomber's shields flicker as they absorb the energy of the shots, and the pilot roars, "Get him off my ass!" The heavier ship weaves down the narrow canyon in an attempt to shake off the pursuit, no more thought given to ejecting the vomitous chemical riot-suppressant on the rapidly scattering crowd; a Twi'lek doubles over, clawing at her eyes and puking most unsexily (unless you're in to weird shit like that) across the trampled bloody form of the woman hit on the head by the canister earlier in the engagement.
On the ground, a female Chiss with glowing eyes takes Sugg's blaster bolt in the chest, slamming her to the ground in a twitching heap, and a human fellow with bad teeth and, frankly, a noxious body odor, screams shrilly as his fingers spurt blood as the slash takes his outstretched grip.
Fuze's ship slews round, sliding inelegantly around a building on Triz's tail, and Edie in the gunner's position gasps audibly as a building looms large in her cockpit bubble. But then Fuze has an almost perfect firing solution, and uses it, the bolts streaking towards Triz's X-wing.
Triz does everything she can to throw off Fuze and still remain on the Bomber's tail. Over and under skyways, past awnings that get blown away from the wash of her engines. The chatter on the comms is heard but with all the work she is doing in the cockpit she doesn't answer right away. <<TIE bomber, you heard that. Take your fight somewhere else. No innocents need to die here for you to prove a point.>> she finally gets out. Right before her ship is rocked by the blasts from Fuze. Shields light up, her R2 squawks and again she is fighting for control as she fires her blasters again at the bomber.
Being in the middle of a mob it would be hard not to hit SOMEONE, but that doesn't make Sugg look like any less of a BADASS as he weaves through the throng back toward his crashed swoop. He shoves through the crowd, squeezing the trigger of his blaster and then slashing with his knife at any that remotely look like they will barr his way. The orange skinned Rodian, curses with every step, "Thit, Thit, thit," until he finally steps overtop a poor puking man to climb atop his swoop.
No more words from Narsai, her warnings are made and the Thunderheart hangs menacingly over the landing pad as the ships start to pull away, bristling with weapons ready but yet to be used by the pilot herself so far.
Someone at the First Order base has clearly been monitoring comms, and agrees with Narsai's opinion. "Aurek One, Besh One, return to base. That is an order. Break, break. Thunderheart, First Order control, be advised that if you fire on us we will engage you with lethal force." The bomber replies monotonically, "Besh One copies", and the bomber gains height steadily, pulling away from the carnage below. Just in time to fly into Triz's blasts, again absorbed by the rapidly-declining shields, with warning lights appearing all over his panels. "Dammit, Fuze!" the pilot roars. Fuze is tuning him out; the only thing on her mind right now is that TIE, but base's orders slide into her consciousness. Briefly she contemplates the alternatives; pretend she didn't hear, pretend her radio was crapping out, pretend she had no alternative but to engage. But she's flying on borrowed time; after losing two expensive TIEs in short order not so many weeks ago, she doesn't want to do anything to endanger her flying privileges, so with a muttered curse and extremely terse "Aurek One copies," she stands the fighter on its tail and rockets skyward. "Next time, babe," she mutters thickly on the open channel as she disappears into the oblivion of the clouds, X-wing rocking under Triz's final blasts. In the cockpit, Fuze laughs as the shields are depleted. "Next time, babe," she whispers to herself, as Edie fires a few blind shots to keep Triz from following.
Down on the ground, the killing machine that is Sugg the Rodian scythes his way through the crowd; a Trandoshan climbing into the cockpit of his speeder (the cheek of it!) gets a shot in the back, the lizard-creature hissing a final death-curse as he falls backwards out of the way.
Triz doesn't hear the calls from the FO base, obviously. But as the TIEs bug out she is left with open skies, so she thinks. That changes when she spots laser bolts just missing her "What the hell," she mutters to herself. "DATE find where that other ship is at," comes her next command as she pulls up her fighter to gain some altitude and not be a target. Her R2, DATE, chips and the screens show the location of the one shooting at her. Finally, she weaves between buildings as she climbs, trying to get on the attacker's tail.
Por Por Frils does not answer to First Order mission control. Por Por Frils is his own pilot. Well, as long as his fiendish machinations align with the Hutt's agenda. The V-Wing is hot on Triz's trail, but he takes a wrong turn, momentarily losing the X-Wing as he rockets back up out of the buildings into the clear air to re-target on the other fighter. l It's not perfect but it's a shot. Glimpses of the V-Wing and there before it gets out of her vision she pulls the trigger sending bolts flying at the craft. <<YOu really want to do this?>> comes Triz's voice over the open channel.
<<Meesa will get back to yous,>> Por Por grates as he jerks the throttle and slams the stick over, sending the fighter into a very tight, if inelegant, turn that pulls his vessel out of the line of fire and pushes the trigger-button to send green lasers blasting back at Triz.
Triz catches sight of the other ship "Damn, he's good," she mutters as she jerks the X-Wing between two buildings as the bolts come flashing right by her head. Instinctively she ducks but the ship stays true, a miss. Though there are probably a tiny bit of paint missing now. She puts the X-Wing in a near impossible turn, grunting from the forces, trying to once more get a good shot at the V-Wing. It flashes in her targeting sensors momentarily but enough to get a shot off.
