Log:First Order: Finesse
Finesse
OOC Date: January 2 2019
Location: Canto Bight
Participants: First Order: Hadrix Rol, Ciferni, Artemis, Saanvi, Ravelyn, Emma Starflare, and Oran Arcantael as GM
The short story: The Vanguard and Knights step out among the glitterati on Canto Bight to assassinate a chemical weapons dealer.
The long story:
Canto Bight: Glittering gem of the Outer Rim. This vast, sparkling casino-city, carved out of the lawless desert of Cantonica and perched on the edge of the galaxy's largest artificial ocean, is a hive of scum and villainy for certain. But a /wretched/ hive? Not this one, not at all. This cage is gilded, perfect, and a huge amount of money and effort has been spent to ensure no one ever wants to leave.
Oran probably doesn't want to leave. The Knight looks like he belongs here in a casino suite overlooking the artificial sea, and this series of rooms probably costs so much that if you have to ask, you'll be smiled at and gently steered toward some more budget friendly options. Currently he is sitting at a desk slowly being buried under a tidy, orderly assortment of datapads, his fingers steepled.
"A human named Eelis Anzo has plans to sell a large shipment of chemical weapon components to the opposition. He is here in Canto Bight and we are going to kill him, obviously," the erstwhile aristocrat lays out their mission, "To send a message, and prevent the deal from being finalized. He's somewhere at the casino in this building and will be wearing a jacket with the pattern of a golden nexu. You may need to ask others to help you find him, otherwise you'll be searching for days. Do not disclose information you do not intend to disclose. Remember that the best lies are the ones closest to the truth. Be alert. Be aware that the more you slip up, the greater the odds that he and his friends will know you're coming for him. Lure him to the subterranean levels of the casino, near where the artificial sea meets the land, and kill him there. The sound of the pumps will cover your activities, and no one will be there."
Oran continues. "This is Corporate Sector Authority space. We are not at liberty to operate with abandon. Civilian casualties are not acceptable." He raises a brow, and waits to see if everyone understands so far.
Hadrix is good at hiding his displeasure over the notes of No Civillian Casualties - but he's been working with those parameters more often than not lately. "If he can have an accident at one of the cliffside overlook balconies, is this also acceptable, or have you adjudicated that only a subteranean kill is acceptable?" he is looming in his own customized cinnigar armor, looking perfect for the part of either a bounty hunter out gambling, or some gambler's bodyguard.
Ciferni had some notice about the /style/ of this mission, more so than the last, and so is actually dressed the part. Leaning against a wall, his suit is reasonable, his long coat is Corporate Sector. There are /pin stripes/. And nicely dark areas under the coat. The man wearing it all? Well, he's giving off the 'hello I guard the rich and famous and will fry your liver if you touch my client' look despite the visuals. He nods at the Knight's words and glances to Hadrix at the question.
Silken threads and lacy underthings, sweetly scented and hair drawn in to flaxen strands by several dozen earnest sweeps of a finely woven comb; and Artemis finds herself hunched over a wastebin. Her worship of the thinsteel compartment involves the offering of a brackish mixture of rich, briney seafood, and enough midrange alcohol to potentially start a still.
"Whose bright kriffing idea was it to pre-drink before this op," Artemis snarls at the shadows, spitting equal parts bile and vitrol before righting herself and straightening to her full height. She pivots to face the shorter aquiline-featured night recovering with a breath mint and a gentle nod of her head.
Saanvi listens attentively to the directions. She visably brightens at the mention of chemicals. There are clearly Questions "Beg pardon, Sir. What chemicals?" She lifts a finger "No doubt proper plans for the collection of such have been attended already but if one of us were to pose as a buyer that would give him cause to agree to more discrete location. If he is waiting to meet someone else already would it be feasible to pose as someone willing to outbid whoever else he has agreed to sell this cargo to?"
Ravelyn is here, but not exactly dressed to look like money. Rather than the usual set of unfriendly armor, there is a set of dark colored robes worn, and a somewhat less unfriendly helmet/mask covering all identifying features. Not great, but more capable of blending in than is customary for the Knight. The masked face is angled to regard Oran for several moments. "This is going to go smoothly." It might be sarcasm, but it's hard to tell through the vocoder.
Into the mix Emma had joined, her own golden hair tied back in a neat and simple ponytail. Her cover identity had always been a 'high-class' mercenary and bodyguard, so on this world she looked perfectly at home. Wrapped in the figure-hugging white of her formfitter armor, the sniper listens to the briefing while she leans against the wall, flipping through the display on her datapad of the available intel on the layout of the town and the casino. There's a quirk of a smirk at Artemis' plight and exclaimation, but she looks back up to Oran. "I suppose the standard OP of a single shot sniper assassination is similar unpermitted?"
"Vanguard," Oran addresses the troopers, "You are killing machines... and I commend you for it. Truly. It's my favorite thing about all of you. However, your role here, new to some of you, requires that you be /more/ than that. We have machines. We have standard troopers. All of them are very good at what they do, and what distinguishes you from them is humanity. Perception. Free thinking." A pause, then, "At which almost all of you are objectively terrible. I don't expect you to become a master of the social graces, but I do expect you to gain a basic grasp of how to lie plausibly, and how to determine you're being misled. It's relevant to your work."
The Knight shrugs at Hadrix and his suggestion. "Your command of subtlety is poor to say the least, Hadrix. Aggressively poor. Can you throw him off a balcony without witnesses above or below? Can you make it appear he jumped and ensure he doesn't survive the fall? Then I don't care. Are you going to just walk up to the man and throw him off the balcony in front of everyone? Don't do that. If you /attempt/ to follow these parameters, I will be generous. If you disregard the parameters and make a mess, because you did not care to try /finesse/, then I will break both of your arms and you'll spend the entire recovery period in social studies."
Oran eyes Artemis next.... presses his lips into a line and pretends he didn't see any of this, then looks to Saanvi. "Silocelex and macroprodol theomin. Pretend to be whatever you like. The Order commands my attention elsewhere here, so... good luck. I rather expect you'll need it."
Oran does add in the mix of instructions, for Emma's benefit, a slightly aggrieved, "You may not shoot anyone on the casino floor, no."
Beyond the suites a turbolift ride away, the casino floor awaits, glittering, vast, filled with hundreds of beings and lights and sound, stretching out before them endlessly....
Hadrix snorts once out of earshot from Oran, Hadrix shakes his head, muttering before the lot are exposed to the casino floors. "Finesse, I understand finesse. He'd be surprised." muttering quietly as he adjusts his armor and then moves out onto the floor, droid floating along side him. The big red eye of the Seeker droid turning towards its master who simply notes 'Keep an eye out for him' as he tries to decide - tables first, or the bar.
Ciferni chews his cheek thoughtfully, watching the shrouded figure of Ravelyn rather than comment on Artmeis's ability to hold her booze. He only murmurs, "We did assume the free drinks were going to be lightweight..." He listens to the medic's idea, nodding slightly. "If making a counter offer doesn't tip him off that the business is known. Risky. We should contact him about something related but entirely new and separate. Large explosive charges, say." Oran's pep talk gets a firm nod, and he notes to Hadrix, "And I will spend time with you in recovery, once an hour, beating your broken arms with a metal pipe." The new guy, though /old/er, is getting the feel of his crew quickly. He herds out with everyone, adjusting his coat as he goes. "I'll represent the new clientele, but ask around and call in if you get a lead."
Artemis draws in a greedy breath, replacing nausea with focus as the gelid chill of synthetic mint flavoring brushes aside the pungent sting of rented hooch. The air leaves her lungs at a languid pace and her transformation begins: an empty, coy smile meets Oran's forced ignorance, her brows slant and head tilts subtly to the side in an attempt to channel a holovid actress' slyly inviting menace, and she begins to favor assets that have little combat relevance.
Funnelling out in to the crowd with the rest of the Vanguard, Artemis channels the one emotion she knows well: anger. Tensing her shoulders, brows furrowing just so, she conjures up an image of Ryo Odessa in his loud, tie-dye shirt to add extra disgust to her visage as she plays the part of the wronged trollop searching for her lover.
"I'll find that schutta farking Hutt-for-brains Eelis if it's the last thing I do," Artemis snarls not making any measure to be stealthy about it. Stomping forward, she sweeps her gaze about.
"They're stronger than you think so that you're more likely to spend more at the tables," Ravelyn notes to Cif as the group filters out of the room and into the lift. Once they're out of the lift and into the casino, moment is taken to study the layout of the floor, head canting off toward some high roller tables, perhaps to suggest others look that way, or to simply say that is the direction Ravelyn is going, and then does just that.
Emma doesn't speak at first, but she does move towards the casino floor. High-class merc look or not, she probably looks more like the security or arm candy of a high roller rather than one herself. Perhaps she should have worn the gown after all. A sigh, she tilts her head to the side and turns those ice-blue eyes over the casino floor before she speaks into her hidden comlink. <<Skip the small fry and head over this way to the high roller stuff. If our man thinks he's got the money to be selling chemical weapons to the resistance? He fits the type. Follow the luxury and pomp.>>
Looking about the casino, noting Ciferni - metal pipes indeed. Pah. Hadrix nods towards his fellow trooper, though he looks past the man to see the stampede of Artemis. He heads towards the sections where the suits are shinier, finer threaded, and more bedazzled than a 10 year old's school pack-sack. A stark contrast to his Bounty Hunter/Rich Merc Chic.
Finding himself in line with Ravelyn, the big trooper does his best to not acknowledge her openly - keeping himself seperate from the pack for the time being while his droid continues to scan the area in time with him. When Wilbo steps up and starts talking to him, Hadrix cannot help but be charmed by the fuzzy little guy. "We've seen a fair deal of action, between the two of us' shooting a glance at Cif 'Enough kills that we've had to replace our belts more than a couple times as well. Are you looking to hire security then?"
Finesse!
Eyeing the angry Artmeis as she stomps off into the crowd, Ciferni snags a drink, though perhaps he's more mindful of Ravelyn's comment than he let on, for he merely holds it without drinking. He lets the strange cloaked figure move toward the high rollers before following at a distance, presenting more the type to troll there for opportunities on behalf of a boss than Ravelyn. Or, at least, opportunities for business and not masked death. If he's taking the measure of his Vanguard crew, he's also trying to take the measure of the... others. But at any rate, to the mission. He moves among the beings spending more than he's ever seen in his life, pretending to sip his drink as he watches for fancy jackets and, on a long shot, fellow bodyguards.
He finds no fellow thugs but just someone with a mouth like a broken droid. "I've done a number of jobs, but none I would call sport," he replies, putting just enough wariness into his manner to keep things open and yet... remain professional, after the role. "Though I don't oogle the females on duty, if you know what I mean." Professional. "And murder's illegal, sir, of course." Straightface.
Artemis finds her hunting ground simply enough: the sights and sounds of douchery, the maw of the void she often avoids by rote, now a gravity well that she finds herself inexorably drawn towards. Balling up her fists, shoulders forward, her heavy steps in her flats softened by plush carpetting and further muffled by the din of the games, it takes her little time to devour the distance. Her next selection is nearly random: any humanoid looking creature with enough stacks of tokens in front of them, or precious metals dangling off of them, to build a flashy R2 unit. Unfortunately, the portly Drall figuratively, and literally, obstructs her path.
"Out of my way furball," Artemis complains with a growl and a barely stifled seafood-ridden belch medly with a splash of mint. Stumbling forward with a grimace, she forcefully shoves her way through. "My boyfriend doesn't give me enough credits to play with people's pets. Go play with whoever the kriff those people are before I get really angry."
While Artemis, Ciferni, and a rather trusting Hadrix make friends with the Drall, a shapely Twi'lek woman in a silver evening gown smiles her way up to Saanvi, Emma, and Ravelyn. "Oh, please forgive me, but you all look so -- adventurous," she purrs in admiration, looking over Emma's fancy armor. But the smile is for all of them. "I love adventurers! I'm something of one myself, though you wouldn't know it from these sparkles." She winks with a tilt of her head, beads draping her head and lekku tinkling with little bells. "You simply must tell me, are you new in town? What are your favorite weapons, did you see there's a new rifle shop near the starport? Oh, are are you more one for grenades, perhaps!"
Saanvi is just a package delivery person, ma'am. She doesn't say it with words so much as flat look of professional disinterest before turning to scan the room clearly a woman on a wholly mundane mission. The pursuing or vetting of the jiggly jangly Twi'lek as a lead is left to those who dressed as if they came here for liesure. Ish. That is at first. Then her attention flits back after second thought. Explosives are fun after all and she fails to contain her interest in this potential lead.
While others get stopped by a furball, Ravelyn is halted by a noodlehead, and though the expression cannot be seen beneath the mask, there is a visible angling of the mask that suggests a once-over of the Twi'lek. "Isn't everyone new in town? Does anyone actually live here?" asks the masked figure with a feigned casualness, and absolute dismissal of the locals, and probably slaves that are stuck here without a choice. "Do you presume that my choice of weapon is explosives because of this?" A gloved hand lifts to touch the mask in question, a lone tap with a pair of fingers, and then the hand drops again. "May be a good guess, but I'm unconvinced that you would be a reliable source should that be what I'm after."
"Ah, yes, I knew you had the look of someone just a little more interesting than you're letting on," the Twi'lek winks at Saanvi's expression of interest in weapon shops. To Ravelyn, she tsks and purrs, "Some people live here. Some people turn up in the oddest places. Maybe I'll see you around." She turns to go, and... meets up with the Drall, the pair of them strolling off. They disappear into the well-appointed crowd a little too fluidly, a little too easily; it's impossible to say which way they've gone. But they aren't the target, Eelis Anzo is the target, a human man in a jacket with a golden nexu....
There -- just there at the Zimbiddle tables, a flash of gold, that jacket is somehow both ostentatious and awesome. Ryo Odessa would probably die for it, if you've had the misfortune to meet that guy. The sharp-eyed among the group have found their mark. Now all they have to do is convince him that they have candy, and to get in the van.
Watching the fuzzy little adorable target disappear into the crowd with the gross, hairless, tentacle headed jiggly monster. He has to let it go for now, as he spots the jacket, and the man, and his greasy hair.
Approaching the man's table, Hadrix offers a nod to Eelis, as he stands to gain some attention from the gambler. "Good evening, sir. I am representing someone whom would be capable of increasing your coffers so as to make your stay in the casino one that you take away as a win, whether you gamble well or not. But he needs to speak with you, immediately on this."
Ciferni doesn't even have to confer with Hadrix. By now they just know how each other thinks. Right. He follows the other trooper's purposeful steps until they lead to the objective. Standing just behind Hadrix, the squad leader is struck with pride at his comrade's... well. It's the approach, anyway. He keeps his head on a swivel for a moment as Hadrix talks, looking for signs of the others, before adding, low but audible, "Our client has a need for fireworks of the large variety. Your name came to her as a reliable source of such useful entertainments. She is prepared to make it worth your time to listen." He's well-dressed, looking the part, and has done this before, at times. His eyes are steady on Anzo's.
Now Artemis really is angry. The eagle-eyed trooper finds the aureate jacket amongst all the glitter much like many others on the team and immediately, buffeted on the wings of the annoyingly woolly interruption, swoops in for the kill. Channeling the spirit of Risha Synata from beyond the veil of more hours of holovid footage than she'd care to admit, she immediately interjects herself between the two men and the target.
"You leave me without saying anything in the morning Eely, and this is where I find you? Chatting it up with two /guys/?" Artemis squawks with all the gusto she can manage. Her eyes are wide, hands flailing as if she'd found herself to be a Sephi with all of their uncontainable energy. "I get it, everyone likes a little something strange after dinner sometimes but how dare you ignore me!" Fists balled, Artemis' teeth clamp shut and her gaze focuses like turbo laser fire on the mark.
Saanvi smiles to the Twi'lek "Well you're not selling Nerf nuggets some words do rather stirr the imagination don't they? PArdon me." She lifts the package "Duty calls." she steps away from the Twi'lek and begins to walk with purpose murmurs into a discrete comm so the others may hear her <<Good excuse to get him moving. I have eyes on a rear exit which should lead downstairs or at least-access hallways. Steer him this way so we can get some privacy with the man of the hour?>>
There is so much coming at the guy, that Ravelyn doesn't immediately approach him with anything, opting instead to stay off to one side, at least for about a minute. It's after the comm from Saanvi that Ravelyn pushes through the crowd, including the Vanguard speaking to Eelis, head inclining with what appears to be respect. "My apologies for," a gloved hand motions over one shoulder to the people behind. "It can be hard to find reliable help these days. As they so... elegantly stated, our employer is in need of your wares, but is slated to be leaving this world sooner rather than later, which means of course that this very profitable venture needs to be concluded soon. If you would be so kind as to come with us?" Without asking, one arm slides around Eelis to start leading him away, toward that exit, not outright dragging the man, but certainly trying to come at him forcefully enough that it doesn't allow for any sort of warning bells to sound in his mind. "We hate to approach you when you're in the middle of enjoying yourself, but as you well know, sometimes business doesn't wait for you to be ready to conduct it."
Eelis Anzo is here with /swag/, yo. Ebony skin contrasts sharply against the flashy golden nexu jacket as the man sits at the table in the midst of a high-stakes sabacc game, the polished dome of his head almost as lustrous. "One moment, Winning Gand," the man halts the dealer as the crew of mercs for hire approaches the table and begins making their claims and pitches to him.
"First of all, my friend, you do not win at stays, only games. But I think I get your meaning in this instance and I must admit feeling some intrigue at your proposition," he smoothly replies to Hadrix, turning then to meet Ciferni's gaze. "And fireworks I can supply. You've come to the right man, as this..." blinking with the first hint of concern or confusion as Eelis swivels to square his body with Artemis on the off chance she launches herself at him bodily. "...I wish I could confirm her /ability/ to confirm my firework ability. That would have been /smooth/," the erstwhile cardplayer cagily admits, slipping off the chair and subtly angling himself behind the two gentlemen with their kind business offer. "Don't let her near me," he whispers in Cif's ear, giving the squawker an apologetic smile of luminous white.
With a nod, he agrees to the apparently irrefutable requests. "Take me down to the business deal meeting where the creds are rich and the fears are fleeting, newfound associates."
Down they go, out of the casino and through the back. A few serving droids and organic waitstaff - the true hallmark of expensive finery, organic hires - spot the unsavory characters passing through these areas, but they seem to have the sense to turn away and pretend they didn't see anything. Access doors and 'no outlet' exits lead down, down... the dry desert air grows increasingly humid and damp as they go, and the pressure of the artificial sea against a land that never wanted it makes itself known.
Eelis Anzo seems remarkably chill with this whole process. He maybe believes them, or... then again..... maybe he knew this was coming. Waiting for them at the last exit are a group of armed figures, including the Drall and Twi'lek from earlier. Foremost among them is a mysterious hooded figure, gender and species unknown, who remarks, "Nice to see you took the bait. Do you want to talk renegotiated terms with the /real/ Anzo, or do you want to die in a casino basement, ladies and gentlemen?"
At the threat, Hadrix swings his heavy rifle around and fires, not quite used to the shift in weight, his aim is meant to be low, but its instead wide as plasma slams into the ground past the Twi'lek woman's leg... and the blaster score is actually flaming after the hit, flames sputtering slowly with a lack of further fuel to consume. "Kriff." He glowers at the quartet of ne'er do wells and leans forward starting to put his weight into a rolling charge step.
The intersession of a firy she-demon catches Ciferni legitimately by surprise, and he responds as trained; he keeps himself between Artemis and their mark. "Deal with her for this gentlebeing!" he snaps to Hadrix, and, as Anzo is led to the safety of negotiations, he keeps pace, guarding the rear with the subtlty of a trained man wearing civilian clothes. He lifts a hand to murmur back <<We're out the exit with our business. Heading down... oh. Come in heavy, now!>> It's all he feels alright with saying once they round that corner to /this/. Leave what 'heavy' means to the others, shall we. As the Hadrix Effect barges in quickly, he quickly draws and takes a shot at the objective, before moving for what cover there is.
Artemis' eyes dart from side to side as she's escorted in to the bowels of the casino proper. Her trigger finger is itchy, her breast is itchy, and her nose is itchy. "Where are you taking me?" she whines, still playing the part of the compensated trollop until the negotiations are left behind to let the blasters do the talking as usual.
With shocking alacrity, the female trooper takes off back down the tunnel to find proper cover rather than test her clothing's ability to absorb blaster fire. One step, two steps. The heel of her boot lands awkwardly on the floor and skids to the side and, in one last graceless dance with gravity, she lands on her rump with a yelp.
"Ow, mother skrogging shoes. How does Oran run in these things?" Artemis growls as she gives up and from within the folds of her coat withdraws her deadly toy.
Were there an instant replay for review for the vanguard play book Artemis might not make it-but Saanvi's might. IF only what absolutely NOT to do. Ciferni had advised that there was danger. This typically means caution or overwhelming force. Saanvi achieves neither of these things. She comes tearing in through the doorway with a syringe in hand-those slate eyes seeking a target! She pivots and tries to close the distance to whichever unfriendly is closer to the door only to eat pavement. HARD. This sends the syringe skittering across the floor plunger over needle.
There is an opening to speak, and so Ravelyn steps forward as though to take it, to continue trying to hone the social skills of the Vanguard so that they can be better prepar-- Hadrix is shooting. A breath hand been drawn, hands spread in a conciliatory gesture, and then there's a sigh exhaled as the hands drop. A few steps are taken to grant some people who want to fight up close more room to work, should they decide to, while one hand lift again. This time to gesture toward Eelis, but nothing happens. Nothing at all. It might look like an attempt to do a rude gesture more than anything, but it's not concluded with a gesture, just a moments dismay that is punctuated with a curse
Down here in the lower levels, a number of huge pumps work tirelessly to keep the hubris of the artificial sea out of the Casino and the city proper - the air is damp despite their efforts, everything covered with the sheen of condensation, puddles pooling in low spots on the floor. The din is deafening, forcing both the Order special forces ("special" forces) and Anzo's henchmen to yell to be heard. "Blast it WILBO!" the jangly Twi'lek, still in an evening dress, yells at the Drall as she dances around Hadrix's shot and fires at Artemis. "WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?" The mysterious hooded figure - the real Anzo? - catches a shot from Ciferni and hisses in pain, attempting to return fire but without success. Blaster bolts sputter and singe as they fly wildly from all sides, without great effect.
Ciferni finds a pipe to take some cover against, and returns fire with his blaster. The noise of the pumps and machinery are nothing; he's using his eyes, mostly, and the comms link. Thankfully, he even misses the roaring sound of Hadrix missing an attack against someone named Wilbo. Peering through the din as he shoots, he tries to pick out familiar forms to get some status of the chaos.
The rifle has failed him, it must be punished - it must watch, unless this next idea goes Dantooinian Fat-Fruit shaped. He's committed to the charge, and noone is attacking him. It's a poor day for Hadrix in that regard. Reaching back and tucking his rifle on a hangar as he grabs his ax, Hadrix attempts to meet the enemy head on. It's Wilbo, it would be Wilbo. His frown, briefly, sad - like a man about to put down a favored pet, Hadrix leans in to swing at the Drall, his moment of affection saving the poor fellow as his weapon sails overhead, where a normal person's waist would be. "Shab!"
If Artemis has empathy for the medic's new Corellian smile, she has little opportunity to provide evidence of it on her placid visage. Instead, the trooper reflexively pulls to the side and rolls flat on to her belly with a sweep of her rifle through the air as the Twi'lek's plasma finds purchase on something other than her flesh. With a violent huff of breath to send her flaxen hair astride the scope of her weapon, she sights her assailant and squeezes the trigger.
Artemis' shot goes wide, sailing out in to the sky over the water like a distant shooting star. Its energy soon dissipates as the friction of passing air robs the bolt of all of its energy until it sputters in to nothing. An exasperated breath follows from the trooper as she waits for the heat in the weapon's barrel to dissipate to allow for another shot.
Saanvi pushes herself up and spits blood from a busted lip but doesn't let that slow her down. She yanks another syringe out and glances at it before preparing to toss it and reach again and then an Axe-wielding maniac stomps past and there's a speculative pause that lasts a single heartbeat before she jams what looks like a FO issue epi-pen strait int Hadrix's thigh before scooting out of the way of the ensuing chaos. She keeps low as she scrambles for cover.
In spite of the slight hiccup in performance, Ravelyn isn't about to give up. Partly because the alternative involves giving up, or letting the Vanguard do all the work here, and after that space wizard dysfunction, that just won't do. Rather than mime angrily at the man, one hand moves to the weapon that rests hidden up one sleeve, likely strapped somehow to the arm. It's just a cylinder that looks boring enough, until the button is pressed and the red beam of whatever it is crackles to life. A swift step forward, and a single slash with the blade cuts a cauterized wound in Eelis, and then just as quickly a retreating step is taken, not to cover, or even very far away, the weapon held in a defensive stance that makes it look as though Ravelyn has some idea of how to use this thing. Some. Better than the miming.
As fancy as his coat and blaster are, they're little defense against the most exotic weapon of them all, which in this case means 'Ravelyn', the mysterious robed figure with a lightsaber, and Fancy Fake Anzo soon finds himself cut into two pieces, which is one more piece than he generally likes to be. The nexu jacket is ruined, similarly, now in too many pieces, and the real tragedy here is hard to define between the two of them. What a loss to the galaxy. The main piece of Fake Fancy Anzo is still smiling his apologetic smile as his eyes glaze over, and his last thought is of fireworks.
In the interim, Wilbo continues to fight the good fight, yelling "WE GOT EM! WE GOT EM, BOO TEE DEE! By my boots and britches, we /GOT EM!/" Bolts of plasma fly hot and heavy in every direction but on target, filling the air with sound and fury, injuring nothing.
Hadrix blinks when he notices movement coming up on his flank, but he pays no mind as he sees the new medic and accepts she is likely to move in to he-OWDAMNWHATTHEKRIFFING... Maybe that's why he missed at first. He's on drugs now. Even as Wilbo turns on him, now finally erasing all affection he'd had for his precious, snuggly, little friend. Something clicks and his pupils turn to pinpricks, when whatever she stuck him with hits his brain
He tries to speak, briefly, but it just comes out as an inarticulate murder howl and he squeezes the ignition on his ax again, sending its humming to a high pitched keening as he attempts not so much as cut the Drall - so much as make the ax and the non-human a party favor. But not filled with candy. More blood, efluvia, bones, and other gross stuff. It appears to be an effective tactic as Hadrix rears back, damn near foaming at the mouth, turning to look at the Twi'lek, with a distinct sort of look in his eye. Or maybe that's a bit of Wilbo... He's all over the guy.
Ciferni keeps up precise firing at the apparent downed ringleader of this group, after the bait and switch job. Bolts splash off the heavy pipe he's pressed up against, giving him the chance to do a nice lazy vertical roll for more or less cover. Through the din, the red sabre lights up the scene oddly, and the soldier squints a moment, trying to identify the weapon. The body count seems favorable, and as the surviving Twi'lek makes her pleas, he lifts his wrist to his mouth. <<Benefit to sending a message via this witness?>>
Artemis does not require much in the way of time to come to a decision. As she rises to her feet, rifle muzzle still trained on the figure between those dangling lek, that conclusion becomes readily apparent.
"Toss your weapon, get face down on the ground with your hands on your head," Artemis commands, her voice carrying with it a weight that contradicts the melodic current of her voice. Approaching cautiously, she gives the doped up trooper a wide berth as she mutters in to the comm. <<Let's try not killing everyone for a change.>>
Saanvi spots a glint of syringe and dives for it <<Got the syringe, free to the first volunteer to diffuse thie Big Guy>> She lifts it up and waves it, one hand below her nose pressed thre like she's making a finger mustache while she tries to staunch her bleeding lip.
With honor sort of restored, and someone killed, Ravelyn steps back and presses the button to deactivate the lightsaber. "If this one so much as twitches the wrong way, I want it dead too," said with a gesture at the supposedly surrendering Twi'lek. The lightsaber is returned to that hiding place up the sleeve as the masked face turns to watch Saanvi with the syringe of whatever it is, but doesn't volunteer to do the duty.
Concerning Wilbo Flaggins. What began as an ill-advised charge ends as an ill-fated one, with the Drall man on the receiving end of Hadrix's ire, sometimes referred to as a very large vibro-ax. His golden fur is stained red with his own blood, and a squeak of alarm leaks out of him, similar to the sound made when stepping on a chew-toy, which incidentally Wilbo now resembles. Clutching at his stolid stomach, the poor fellow weeps and groans "It's not my fault. It's not my fault, we- we had 'em! Oh, j- jumpin' jackanapes, we- why, why, so much- so much blood, oh go- oh..." His monocle falls with a cracking tinkle to the ground in a small splatter of red.
The Twi'lek just saw Ravelyn cut Eelis Anzo in half, and saw the rest of them mow down her other friends. She definitely does not seem to doubt what's going to happen if she twitches the wrong way. Even her lekku are still, their small bells only faintly jingling, as she warns, "I'm setting the safety on," and does so before casting her weapon aside. The carbine clatters across the floor, then her hands are up and she kneels, then lies down on the ground. The puddles of sea water and mystery machine fluids are no doubt ruining her lovely gown, but she pays it no mind. "These men held my life in contract. They weren't bad to me and I --" Wilbo. Oh, Wilbo. Her voice catches. Deal with it later. "I can be yours instead." Her words are unsteady but she persists. "I'm not bad in a fight and I'm good at gathering information."
Dully, on the other side of psychosis induced by combat stims. Hadrix stares at the Twi'Lek, cords sticking out in his neck. There was a cease fire order given, but he wants to make for the murder things. The murder things will make the red shadows at the corners of his vision recoil, yes. The snick snack, blood... BLOOOOOOOOD!!!
The trooper turns, and starts stomping towards the unconscious guy, no cease fire against him. No. Only blood. Blood on the inside, need it outside, the red corners, getting bigger. They're going to tear through. More blood to feed the fabric of reality. MUST. SEAL. THEM. AWAY.
Meanwhile he stands poised, ax up, ready to chop.
As the people who needed to be dead are dead, Ciferni straightens and steps out from cover to survey the situation. The situation looks... mighty fine. Well finessed, somone foppy might say, even. As the haze clears, he gives Ravelyn a nod, then glances to Saanvi. "Did he..." And then there's some Coruscanti swearing, but he stomps over to take the syringe from her. "Well, I'm sure it helped our victory. Hadrix, I'm here to make you feel better." Then he watches the doped up soldier a moment, takes a deep breath, and advanced carefully. "Hey Hadrix, I have some nice for you, right here. Want it?"
The wailing of the Drall fails to pierce the barricade around Artemis' sympathies leaving its withered, unnurtured husk void of nutrition that would allow it to entangle its far more robust brother duty with its embrace. Her measured steps take her to the Twi'lek's flank where it's a simple matter to sling her weapon on her shoulder, settle a knee on the small of the woman's back, and bind the captive's wrists with woven, disposable cuffs for the time being.
"That's enough, Nine-Oh!" Artemis whirls, the man's manic actions finally drawing her attention, raising her weapon to the horizon line to train on Hadrix. There's almost no hesitation as she flicks the toggle on her weapon to a less lethal shot variant before squeezing the trigger hard against the back of the guard. The weapon sings and crackles along the trooper's flank.
A faint smile curls at the edges of Artemis' lips.
Saanvi keeps her finger there like she's miming evil thoughts and watches Artemis take aim "Oh! I Wouldn't Do-..." she winces as Artemis fires "...That. Well if he goes into arrest he already has the first course of drugs." Like she's not entirely certain that is a helpful thing.
Ravelyn looks all ready to go, though the mess they've made gets an unseen frown. "This should be cleaned up, we weren't supposed to have any civilian casualties. Suggestions?" The masked face lifts and focuses on Hadrix, eyeing the man in the drug induced murderous rage. "If you do anything unwise, it will go badly for you. I suggest you try breathing through this anger, and lowering that axe, and we'll all have a better night for it."
The Twi'lek has said what she can, and she's smart enough to realize that further whimpering and wailing and begging will avail her nothing now. Now all she can do is wait... go into custody, and try not to be eaten alive with anxiety while Artemis decides her fate. Try not to remember Wilbo. Brave. Stupid. Bold to the end, and that little monocle... Did he deserve this? Maybe. Maybe not. But it's Canto Bight, and when you gamble, you lose.
It's mission accomplished for the rest of the team, however; Anzo, Other Anzo, and the Drall can be easily disposed of in the nearby waters of the sea. Never to be seen again. Maybe that's what it's for. Suffice to say the chemical deal is off, and with everyone upstairs still playing Zimbiddle and the rest of the casino games none the wiser? You could even call it finesse.
You probably shouldn't. But you could.
