Log:First Order: Kafrene Klean-Up

First Order: Kafrene Klean-Up

OOC Date: July 5, 2018
Location: Kafrene
Participants: First Order: Kylo Ren as GM, Rand, Lyra Sirella, Lioria Thrace, Rejind Yocum, and Grayson Oakfell

The Ring of Kafrene is a massive construct jammed between two planetoids in a tenuous balance between holding the two together and keeping the two apart. Its facilities serve both as a platform for mining and as a port of trade, attracting unsavory characters of all sorts with its remote location and reputation for low governmental interference.

Of course, with a reputation like this, it makes an admirable spot for a honeypot as well. "Your mission," a blue scarred face recognizable as Kylo Ren's is dictating over a holocomm transmission, "is to infiltrate a sale going down tonight in the shanty town across from the docking bay district. Your identities are on the chip you've been given. There's a back-alley bar called the Rusted Hole with a secret storage room in the rear where the sale will take place. Maintain your cover until the buyers have identified themselves. Then kill them all."

The shuttle sets down in the docking area, not a stone's throw from the slums where the deal will be going down, smoke rising from the huts and shacks.

'Cpororal Wunnigunn' arrived some 20 minutes prior and had taken his sweet time drinking down a mug of the bar's own version of Lomin-Ale. An easy to produce, heavily carbonated brew unique to every location. This place's version comes out almost a third foam and barely colder than room temperature. And is oddly spicy. Just another reason to never come back to thie side of space.

RN-5282 was the point man for this small op, go in, scout the guards and locations and wait for the others of the team to slowly filter in to join him. Act natural. Eyes flashing towards the door everytime it opens isn't too natural. But it looks more like he is waiting for someone than being a weirdo.

Rejind Yocum gets up from his seat, checking his blaster quickly before placing it snuggly in its holster. He double checks to make sure his true rank insignias are off, and the Ensign ones are mounted correctly before setting off with the group.

Lioria doesn't particularly care for Kafrene. Most planets that start with a K she hates, but that's her. Just bad experiences. Tonight however there's a mission so there she is. The woman's usually red armor has been turned black this evening for the mission. She's wearing a long black jacket over the bulk of it. Even the helmet and things are still in place. She gives a look to the others on board behind that flat black emotionless visor. "Just stick together should things go south." the vocoded voice states.

'Petty Officer Paadpo' is sloppily stuffing her face with fried treats, it seems the Petty Officer is a bit of a glutton! Lyra has some type of pasty cream smeared over her lips and looks like she is settling in for a long round of enjoying her food.

The bar is easy to find, thank the Force, so it doesn't take long for those who came in on the shuttle to catch up to those who are already there for whatever reason. A large neon holo-sign outside which glitches between "Rusted Hole" and "Rust ol" is projected on the side, making the location a veritable sore thumb in the landscape for these expert troops.

Inside, the lighting is poor, the smell is dank, a persistent waft of ammonia coming up from the floorboards, and a large Besalisk is passed out in the nearest booth, four arms thrown to the wind as he sleeps off whatever he's been drinking. According to the briefing, there's meant to be a secret back room, but how to get back there or where it is aren't exactly clear.

Its not enough to scout silently for RN-5282. He takes the time once he sees his people start arriving to nudge the person sitting next to him. "Why is this ale so shit? Do you think they only give the crap ale to people they don't know?" Its an odd way to start arguing with someone. Rand's hand lifts and shoves the guy shoulder. "Or do you guys like drinking swill?"

Rejind Yocum finds a quiet spot to sit at the bar and remains quiet when Rand is trying to start whatever with the guy next to him. Rejind attempts to listen to what is going on in the bar, trying to pick out anyone who might be talking about an upcoming arms deal they're involved in.

Petty Officer Akazi, also known as Governor Thrace, looks over things behind the flat black mask and there's a moment where the woman's head tracks something. After a time, the one in all black is walking with a purpose across the room and presses the light fixture that is a different color than the rest of them. She didn't want to act like she wasn't meant to be here and know about how to get into the secret location. Professionalism!

'Petty Officer Paadpo' looks around, but she does not expect to find anything. It seems she is not very good at finding hidden things, or even acting like a slob because she shudders and reaches out for something to clean her face with. "Ugh, I.." she shakes her head again. "Well," she peers over at Rand and what seems to be a bar fight brewing and then quickly follows Thrace.

Grayson Oakfell is here, Crewwoman Eetibeeti. Her hair is poufy and all done up in pretty waves and ish, makeup done, a lowcut tunic of brilliant blue worn along with a pair of hip skimming black pants that are tucked into a pair of dark brown boots. She wears a bright smile upon her lips as she saunters her way to the bar, voice coming out surgary and sweet as she speaks once the bar is hit, elbows popping up on the bartop that smells horrendous, "I am needing your most sweetie of a drink, please." Brown eyes are bright, Grayson turning her gaze over her shoulder as she oofs, "Captain Jibbuns was not being very joking when he is saying not much for men in this place .." Said as she eyeballs the Besalisk sleeping in the booth, heavily accented voice butchering phrasing in her usual way, words said to bartender and those seated around her, gaze swinging back to the 'tender, be it droid or ..humanoid, "I think very sweetie of a drink is needed." Re-affirmed.

"Zwill?!" 'The guy' Rand shoves is a beefy Trandoshan who turns on the man with a reptilian glare, the ridge of his brow furrowing with anger both at being shoved and the insult given to the beverage of choice. "Thizz one'z couzin brewwwz that 'zwill'," he replies with a low rumble, getting up from his seat to step into Rand's personal space, and when he does it becomes clear that he is both beefier and taller than the incognito stormtrooper. A clawed index finger reaches out to poke heavily into the other male's chest. "You take back your worrrdz, zmoothzkin."

Meanwhile, the black-masked Lady Thrace has discovered some form of switch on the wall and once activated, a small panel recedes into it, revealing a dark passage beyond it. The back room!

When Grayson aka Eetibeeti makes her order, the Trandoshan interjects with a "GOOD. Zerve thizz one with 'zwill' zo all will zee that izz zweetie, not zzzwill." Then he pulls a gun. Someone is taking the honor of these drinks very seriously.

Rand doesn't spot incoming people, but he knows it not time to /shoot/ people yet. So he lifts his hands in the air in a mollifying gesture. "Hey, hey, Calm down. Maybe its just a bad batch. If she likes it, I'll try it again. I swear." Its not convincing. Stormtroopers aren't trained to back down from confrontation and its showing.

Rejind Yocum notices Lioria open a door to the backroom, and gives himself a small grin for a moment. After scanning the bar for a moment, Rejind feels like Rand will have the situation well under control, trained as he is, and so quietly rises and moves to join Lioria in the back room.

'Petty Officer Paadpo' opts for a retreat toward their objective, however the young woman has no ability to sneak what-so-ever, and it's not helped by the sound of her armor moving against itself and her. Creek, crunch, creek, squeak.

The woman in black simply vanishes into the darkness when the opportunity is given. Lioria doesn't even look behind her to see what's going on. Stuff like this happens all the time on Kafrene. She simply heads into the backroom to see what the next leg of the journey turns up.

Grayson Oakfell pulls her shoulders back and leans in to the bar, reaching out to touch the Trandoshans forearm as he extends his arm out with the blaster, her brown eyes widening, "Oh my, look how shiney are your scalings, you look like this one very handsoming Trandoshan, Passk, are you both related? You have to be, I am not seeing this quality of strong scaling since I have been traveling with him some time ago." Gushing mightily, her eyes wide with wonder as she lays it on, "You must have very many points with your Scoring Keeper, to have very shiny and strong skin like this." Pet pet, she pets his forearm, hopefully diffusing things, "Which is your biggest killing? I bet you have been to a nest of the Rancors and come out with their skins for wearing." Ohh, she is soooo impressssed, "And your drinks must be so strong and good, not swill, he's just a dumb ..bantha herding man. Ignoring him and tell me of your last killing."

The dark room behind the passage is very dark. It's a secret meeting place, after all, it's not like it's going to be well-lit. Without some quick adjusting to the lack of light and sharp eyes, it's difficult to see anything at all.

"...Eazzzy there, smoothskin," the Trandoshan tells Grayson, "thiz one haz a mate already, and bezidez.... thiz one iz not thinking theze thingz are pozzible. Ztrong eggz are what Rinzz needz, not your zaggy human zkinzack." Put off by Rand and Grayson both, now, he drops a few credits on the bartop and moves to leave.

Rand straightens up and finishes off that gross ale, while looking towards Grayson. How kind of her to settle that little kerfuffel down for him. People are moving he notices now, and Rand leaves the mug there and stands up out of his stool, with a curt nod towards Grayson. Then to glance around to investigate what is going on that he missed. Apparently...something, because the people that came in are gone now.

Rejind Yocum moves in behind Lioria and stays behind her, quickly scanning the room. He doesn't visibly react to the sight before him, but inside he feels a rising sense of anger at seeing all of the stolen First Order weapons. Keeping character, he strides into the room comfortably, making a mental inventory of the boxes and weapons here.

Thrace reaches up and is about to turn on one of the lights, "People want to conduct business in the dark." she mutters. The chain is pulled and well, there's either going to be light or something else! She's hoping it's going to be light. Or someone that she can hit hard.

Since 'Petty Officer Paadpo' can't see anything at all she just peers into the darkness, eyes wide, trying to make out the shape of the room or if anyone else is there and failing. "It's so darrrkk," she adds a whine to her voice.

Grayson Oakfell has diffused the situation! "Do not be worrying, your skin is reminding me of a purse I bought at an auction, speaking of the witches.." She glances down to her watch, eyeballing it, her drink FINALLY coming, the thing mostly some sweet syrup, though she will distractedly draw it in towards her as she looks around, looking somewhat annoyed, "When is this all starting .." Murmured to herself, "The boss does not want me wasting my time ..." Said to herself as if she's expecting something to start already as she begins to slide off the stool, not quite following in the footsteps of the Trandoshan as well, her own credits drawn out and popped to the bartop, the drink plucked up but not sipped at yet.

While Rand and Grayson try to remember what they're here for in the main bar, the others have slipped down the side passage into the back room where the deal is meant to go down. When the light comes on, the crates of Sonn-Blas weaponry, meant for the First Order but somehow having found their way here, become immediately apparent.

What also becomes immediately apparent is a ring of those same weapons pointed at the Vanguard operatives.

"We heard you comin' a mile away," a grizzled man with a giant burn dominating half of his face announces, the short grey flattop haircut he sports lit up by the pullchain light like a silver halo. "You ain't the real buyers, you didn't give the PASSPHRASE." Nobody said anything about a pass phrase!

"Ma'am. Maybe we should go and check..." RN-5282 forgets his job of subterfuge for the moment. His steps follow him along behind Grayson for awhile, with her drink...but then he heads down towards that newly opened passage. That seems to have not been there previously. Gait carries him with /some/ modicum of stealth. Some. He doesn't stomp in there but it certainly isn't quiet.

Thrace's head tilts to the side a bit and there's a bit of a sigh, "I hate passphrases." the woman's vocoded voice is emotionless as she draws her sword in one fluid motion. The next moment she's charging one of the sellers and she runs him through. "Don't sell things that don't belong to you." she adds as she kicks the dead one off the end of her blade. "Kill them." she tells the others calmly.

Rejind Yocum draws his blaster pistol fluidly at Lioria's words, taking aim at the next merc in line behind the one that got gutted. He squeezes off two shots, the first catches the merc in the chest, while the second goes slightly to the right of the merc and impacts the wall behind them, leaving a small burn mark.

"Why, why are people always trying to shoot at me?" she asks no one in particular as she pulls out a frag grenade and hot potato tosses it to one of the mercs. "Here, hold this."

Grayson Oakfell isn't REMEMBERING. She's playing like a buyer, yo. Dropping words here and there to indicate she's as much, while trying to seem like she's here to buy for her boss. But trying to eke out something with those in the bar does nothing. The sudden blaster shots echo out into the main bar however, Rand calling her ma'am has her pausing, suddenly questioning if she looks old enough to be a ma'am. When he goes into the not so secret room now she's raising her glass up to her lips, the sudden EXPLOSION coming from within the area which kicks up dust that broils out has her dropping said glass, sickly sweet bright blue liquid splashing up as her glass breaks, "Shaves it, if it is snowing through the night, we will light a fire at the breakfast!" PASSCODE. Or ..just a random phrase. Who knows with Gray. Dart, there she goes, into that dust that billows out from the very not so secret place now.

"GRENADE," one of the mercs yells whenever Lyra rolls the frag in on them. BOOM. The small explosive packs a big punch in the enclosed area, as chunks of crates, guns, and one unfortunate merc get tossed into the air as projectiles, flying at high speed in all directions. Propelled like this a splinter becomes a bullet, and it's bad news for anyone unlucky enough to be in the way. The shockwave echoes off the walls, deafening everyone inside, sending ears ringing and heads pounding.

The sellers left alive open fire on the Vanguard, targeting Lioria with her sword and Rejind and praying like hell that Lyra is out of grenades.

RN-5282 is shook only just a moment from the loud crack of a grenade, dust billowing from the passageway before he is marching down it, rifle sweeping up from under the civilian duster he had worn to conceal it. A quick sweep from safe to powered and a blaster bolt is sent across the room to intersect with one of the people he /doesn't/ recongize. Some power merc getting what he so rightfully deserves.

Rejind Yocum grunts in pain as a blaster bolt slams into him, dropping to one knee from the force and firing off two quick snapshots at the merc who shot at him, trying to get the merc to dive for cover before he can shoot at Rejind some more.

Thrace takes a moment to rip the shard of shrapnel from her shoulder and deposits it into a pocket in her armor. "Ow." she growls out. Then she sees that they are starting to get a little excited in the closed quarters and she twirls the vibroblade in her gloved hands before she stabs the next Merc in the gut and arcs the blade up, splitting him open as the blade slices through armor and clothing.

Lyra isn't much with a blaster, but she pulls it anyway, opting not to stuff a grenade down the last merc's throat. While the young woman's first shot goes wide the second one connects.

Grayson Oakfell bursts in through that smoke and debris, hands waving across her face as she hears blaster bolts and the familiar sound of a blade meeting flesh and bone, "What is the hecking going on!" She calls out, noticing the dead bodies as the smoke clears away, eyebrows raising up as she eyeballs everyone in turn, "So ..a stealthing undercover mission is ..most littering blowing up. That .." A ragged exhale, the woman looking a bit confounded. This is why she needs to stay in the medical bays, "Okay ..so ..who did we kill? Sellers?" Asked as hands settle on her hips, the woman moving in to look around, accent heavy and weary. She needs to stop coming on these missions. She is ..just so awful, "Let us get these goods tagged for transport. Who is needing fixing?" Might as well go into doctor mode, it's what she's useful at most days. And drinking wine. She needs a drink. So many drinks.

After the blast of the grenade, things go downhill quickly for the mercs who intended to sell some guns and/or kill the fools who interrupted said attempt to sell some guns. Lioria chops down another one, blaster fire guns down the remaining combatant, and all is quiet in the stockroom. Except for the inevitable ringing in the ears from that explosion.

Still, the dealers are neutralized and another mission is successfully completed for the Vanguard, the shuttle already warmed up to take them home.