Log:First Order: The Chase Pt. 1
The Chase Pt. 1
OOC Date: March 15th, 7:00 CST
Location: Felucia
Participants: Fuze, Jophie, Oozlevort, FN-4126, FL-5114, Emma Starflare, Hux (GM), First Order
A red alert had gone out earlier in the day. Wailing sirens and possible panic inducing whirling red lights situated along the walls of the Finalizer signaled a full scale alert and gave frantic life to those aboard the First Order destroyer. Officers of Delta Company promptly filed into the hallways, calling troops to order and dividing them into assault groups and then directed them toward individual transports without any explanation being given to the officers or to the troops in their command, only a notice that General Hux will be briefing the Company while in route.
FN-2432 takes a place in the lead transport, if not exactly in the -front- of said transport. Fully armored along with the troops, only the red epaulette tells the Lieutenant from those in her command. She leaves the details of the muster to her Sergeants, preferring instead to look over the troupe as they assemble. "No pushing or shoving, now. Everyone will get a turn." she offers dryly over the comlink. Sergeants, give me roll and a head-count please. Orders will will be delivered once we're underway.”
Handling security on the troop transport she's been assigned to as senior NCO, FN-4126 (Rhona) surveys the stormtroopers as they board, her carbine in relaxed-ready posture even as she waves them through the hatch. The sudden alert doesn't appear to have had much effect on her, save for a faint tension in her rangy body and a certain snap to her movements. "On board and in your seats, troopers, and make it snappy, unless you want us scraping you out of your own boots on launch! The Corps isn't paying those pilots by the hour!" she snaps, almost rhetorically.
She nods tersely to the order by FN-2432, silently taking notes on who is and isn't here. She knows most of them by body language, but just in case... "Helmets off once you're inside, troopers. Our commander today usually uses the dropship PA emitters.”
Not at the front but somewhere up there, EM-1710 (Or 'Emmy' as some troopers call her) is armored and armed up. Her customized rifle rests in her firm grasp and has her cloak deactivated for the time being. The order for the helmets to be removed is surprising to the sniper, but she doesn't say anything and instead focuses on being ready to drop.
Hustle hustle hustle. FL-5114 was swabbing the deck when the call went out, so he's only just scrambled into his armor and made it into the massing formation of Stormtroopers. He's got all his gear, probably, and knows where to go--maybe. Standing at attention in the formation, FL-5114 glances over and notices KT-3435. "Um...hi there." Everyone is still storming in and clattering into ranks. "FL-5114." From the vocoder's tone, he might be smiling awkwardly. At FN-4126's command, however, FL-5114 lifts off his helmet to shake out a luxurious mane of rich black hair, with tanned skin and sharp features. He flashes a small smile over at Maze, looking friendly.
Oozlevort the Gand was brought aboard the Finalizer for a meeting with the commander, but was ushered into an assault group before his meeting began. The short four-foot-tall bounty hunter is dazed, but really, what does a dazed Gand look like? Few can tell as the robed findsman hustles among the taller stormtroopers and assault troops. He has a rifle strapped across his back and two pistols in his bandolier - one, a SE-44c blaster pistol with a scope on it; the other an ion blaster used for ornery droids. He gives RHONA a sour look as he passes up the ramp.
The pilot of the transport does not wait for that roll call to be completed, no doubt confident that the officers can manage while in flight. As the Gand makes his way onto the transport, the boarding ramp begins to close right behind him with a hiss of hydraulic cylinders and then the clunk of the airlock sealing around it. A slight jar rocks those who are still standing as the ship lifts from the deck of the Finalizer and then out thrusts out into the empty blackness of space, interrupted only with the white dots of stars and the looming form of Bayuir as the transport angles out away from both the planet and destroyer. There is the pressure of thrusters and then the tell tale slowing as hyperdrive coordinates are entered and then the jolt of the ship leaping into hyperspace.
FN-2432 removes her helmet as well, spilling long auburn locks down her back with a toss of her head. With her free hand she clings casually to one of the handles as the transport lurches in take-off, being the last one to strap into her seat. Looking over her troops as the ship jerks into hyperspace, Jophie makes eye contact with the Sergeants last.
Trooper, trooper, Gand... so far the list looks good. Okay, maybe with one exception, at least in attitude. "You're not a trooper, Bug. That last order doesn't apply to you," Rhona says casually as Oozlevort waddles past. She can't read his expression, so his body language will have to do. She settles into her seat by the hatch as the hatch whines shut, looking around one last time. "Troopers EM=1710 and FL-5114, Consultant Oozlevort, and myself present and accounted for, Lieutenant.”
EM-1710 pulls her helmet over and off her head. Her blonde hair spills back and over her shoulders, something that makes her frown a little but she doesn't go out speaking up her issues. Gripping onto the handguards, the sniper waits and holds on, looking back towards the other two and then on to the Sanitation officer with a grin. Back the task at hand and she spares one final glance towards Oozlevort with a flicker of recognition but no words.
Grimacing when Maze says nothing, FL-5114 looks around and spots EM-1710's grin. His eyebrows shooting up, he offers a small wave, looking quite friendly until the hyperspace jump has him lurching to the side, against the grim-faced FL-7710 on his left. The huge trooper glares down at the Sanitation Trooper and FL-5114 just grins and waves to him as well. "Hello!" he says quietly, nodding once. Then he looks to EM-1710 once more, attentively.
Oozlevort was not planning on removing his breathing apparatus and exposing himself to toxic oxygen in the atmosphere. The bounty hunter smooths his robe with a three-fingered hand as their shuttle launches. "This Gand does not like the term 'Bug' as this Gand's species has a complex and unique evolutionary history," he says pointedly to Rhona.
There is a brief pause after the ship has launched into hyperspace, after which the large display screen situated at the front of the transport flickers to life. There on the screen standing on what appears to be the bridge of another transport is General Hux. He is outfitted in his own set of battle armor, his long black coat worn overtop. Like Oozlevort, he has a harness worn in a simple X across his chest, two blaster pistols holstered on either side of his chest and the butt of a rifle can be seen extending over his shoulder. His visage is stern, a calm resolve that is likely feigned given that when he begins to speak, his voice carries an undertone that sets his voice to tremor slightly, "Troops, you are no doubt curious as to the sudden deployment of our forces to an unknown location. This address is delivered to you to rectify that curiosity and to stress on you the importance of this mission. A primitive village located on the jungle planet of Felucia is the destination of our mission. Earlier today, we received a message that our primary target, Luke Skywalker, was spotted and confirmed to be still in the area." A flush of excitement creeps into the cheeks of the General as he relays the details of the mission. "We deployed a small contingent of Stormtroopers nearer to Felucia upon receiving this information. You are being sent to insure that our target does not escape. Bring me Luke Skywalker! Alive!" With that, the screen goes black.
FN-2432 purses her lips at the Gand's reply, blue eyes flickering his way. Jophie manages to suppress a smile and lets the comment go. A little light banter is better than the tension of silence and the hum of the engines, after all. Then the screen flickers and the General gives his address. Crimson brows lift at the mission briefing details, her lips set. "Okay, people, we have our orders." she declares, once the screen goes black. "Once Skywalker is spotted we set for stun, flank and surround. UNTIL Skywalker is spotted, set for kill and eliminate unfriendlies with extreme prejudice. Questions?”
FN-4126 glances sidelong at the Gand, shrugs unapologetically, and removes her helmet, resting it on top of her carbine in her lap as she listens to the orders. Capture Luke Skywalker... well! This certainly might be an interesting mission, in a very dangerous way. But that's how Rhona likes her missions. She begins to perk up, showing some interest in the briefing. Jophie's sum-up brings her out of the reverie quickly. "Sir! Will we have time to stop for take-out on the way back to the ship?" she asks, grinning at the Lieutenant.
Skywalker?! EM's smile vanishes with a a shock before she trails off with just what exactly that means. As a sniper, she'd probably prefer to take a clean shot to eliminate her target, but her rifle could be set to stun. Two minds are in thought, the challenge vs the risk, but she doesn't say anything to her thoughts. Instead she just flicks the switch on her weapon and it charges her stun.
FL-5114 doesn't have much to say in reaction to that. He knows who Skywalker is, of course. Knows his face by heart. But he doesn't really know anything about the guy…
Oozlevort stares at the screen with his compound eyes, unblinking, until it flickers off. "Luke Skywalker? The Jedi? Oozlevort has heard that Jedi are very dangerous. And Felucia is... very dangerous. Some say there are rancors.”
The ship roars on in hyperspace for a long while, finally dropping out with a lurch as the ship enters back into real space. The screen at the front of the transport flickers into life again, affording the troops within a view of the planet ahead. Its appearance is primarily composed of a deep olive green, swirls of white clouds scattered here and there. The ship lurches again as engines are ignited, sending the ship on course for the planet until it breaks through the atmosphere with a rumble. The display changes as the ship breaks through the atmosphere revealing a sprawling jungle below, thick with trees and what appears to be large leafy undergrowth. The transport slows, becoming more agile as it weaves between large flat leaves and breaks through the canopy of the trees. The comms of the shuttle crackle into life and the pilot says, "Troops, be advised landing in T-minus thirty seconds." The ship weaves agilely through thick trunks of trees in a dizzying maze and finally slows and steadies, repulsers firing as the ship lowers to a landing and the back hatch begins to lower once more. As the ramp opens and touches the ground, a thick humid heat immediately assaults the troops inside, easily able to be felt through their armor and settling a thin sheen of moisture on the white gleam of polished armor.
Outside the ship, the jungle is a thick tangle of undergrowth and massive trees. Directly to the left of the ship is a small pool of liquid that smokes faintly, small bubbles breaking the surface now and again. Off to the north, sounds of blaster fire can be heard, the comms opening up with yells of combat and cries for backup.
Jophie grins back at Emmy. "Only if you like your lizards -fresh-, Sergeant." Blue eyes are still flickering with amusement when she continues. "And yes, Mister Oozlevort, Jedi are dangerous. Felucia is dangerous. But look around you; so are we. Okay. Time for a nap before landing." But for all that, the Lieutenant doesn't look very sleepy.
When the ship lurches back into normalspace, Jophie orders crisply. "Helmets on, people!" Twisting the auburn locks expertly, she spills all that hair into her helmet as she leans forward. Seating it with a practiced move, there's a soft hiss as it seals. "Sergeant. Com-check." And then the landing begins.
"You heard right, Bug. Felucia's a swamp within a swamp, and it's got one of the most dangerous ecosystems in the galaxy short of hard vacuum," Rhona says. "If it's not trying to slash you up or eat you, it's probably poisonous. Make sure you've got your canteens and filters, troops. And on top of that, we're hunting Jedi, so watch out for glowing energy blades that are even more dangerous than the wildlife."
Pity there's waiting involved before they get there... and wait Rhona does. But not patiently. The familiar down-jump gets only a nod of acknowledgment, and the Sergeant latches down her helmet, coming to her feet and picking her weapon up, ready to use. She directs her gaze out the door, watching the area. "Com-check affirmative, Lieutenant. Squad... and Bug, sound off when ready!”
Helmets back on, EM's not exactly a firm believer in the filters but it's better then having her face eaten by instincts. Moving off the ship behind the others she activates her stealth field and disappears from the visible spectrum. For now, she's not going to set up in an overwatch position, but she's sticking to her role as an invisible guardian angel.
"Aw." FL-5114 was hoping someone would forget the order to don helmets again... Snaping the helmet back into place with his radiant raven-dark locks neatly put back into position, FL-5114 bring his rifle up as he rises and starts to rush out of the shuttle, ready for action! Upon observing the pool of bubbling water, however, FL-5114 pauses and admires the local beauty for a moment before rushing to join the fighting to the north! Or at least, to move with the squad when it rushes to join the fighting to the north.
Oozlevort draws his SE-44c pistol with the rather expensive scope on top, checking its power setting. He flips the selector from KILL to STUN. "Oozlevort hopes that you are more dangerous than Felucia's wildlife and Luke Skywalker. Chasing Jedis is not profitable if we are not returning alive," the Gand says to Jophie. The heat hits him in a wave and his eyes blink, and then he is filing out of the ship into the jungles of this humid planet. "Such a moist heat. Oozlevort is ready. Your comrades sound like they are needing backup, and fast." The short Gand starts trudging with the squad toward the sound of fighting, his keen senses alerted. FN-2432 hears the blaster fire and the com-chatter. "Backup is here!" she quips over the com, following the troops off the landing shuttle. "Okay, people, let's break this down. I don't want a stampede. Fan out and partner-up. Don't dally, but let's work the problem. Eyes-on."
As the troops begin trudging through the undergrowth toward the sounds of battle and the cries for help, they find the going quite tough. There is no path, and thus they must hack and push their way through the dense undergrowth. The hearty leaves of the plants seem to glitter in the sunlight streaming through the thick, humid, air and cause the undergrowth to sparkle as if encrusted with jewels. It is almost as if the leaves of the planet are trying to hinder the troops from joining in with the battle.
Though their progress is slowed, they do eventually break through the undergrowth and find themselves stepping out onto the perimeter of a sprawling primitive village that seems to sit at the mouth of a large rock formation. The base of the rock formation seems to open into the large and gaping maw of a cave that disappears down beneath the surface of the ground. Troopers run here and there along the pathways between the primitive buildings, blaster fire darting through the air, and the cause of the cries for reinforcements is evident as a large Rancor steps out from behind a building near the emerging unit of troopers and snatches a fleeing Stormtrooper from the ground and bites him cleanly in half, silencing the scream of terror that sounds across the comms in every Trooper's ear with a gurgle of blood.
Jophie's voice clicks over the comlink again. "Watch the plants, people. Remember, this is no ordinary jungle." The the Rancor charges in and has his crunchy snack. "Move! Fan out! Flank and surround! On my command, hit it from all directions at once!”
"They definitely need backup," Rhona agrees, listening to the tone of the distant transmissions. "It sounds like even the plants are against them... and has this place got plants!" And, throughout the long walk to the village, the truth of that idea is revealed in every snare of her ankle, wrist, and blaster by the local vegetation. "You can say that again, Jophie," she mutters, pulling her weapon free for the umpteenth time. At least they're almost to the village. But that's probably not a good thing, not by the looks of what's coming to meet them: A Rancor! And a big one, too! "Watch those claws! Em, can you buy us a few seconds?" she calls, skipping back several steps and one to the side, just to keep the monster guessing. She ducks into the shadow of one of those huts. Oh, for a flash grenade right now…
That's a Rancor...thats a RANCOR! EM is moving backwards when the call is sent her way and she nods...of course that's probably not a gesture seen thanks to her cloak. Taking a knee, her scope zeroes in on one of the creatures eyes before she pulls the trigger. It probably wouldn't kill the monster, but it might halve its ability to see at the very least.
Whoa! Reeling backwards when some huge monster appears out of nowhere, FL-5114 lifts his rifle and fires a wild shot that sort of hits the creature near the tip of the soldier. "What the hell is that?!" His vocoder relays the message, but it's not sent over comms. Local chatter only as FL-5114 backs up several steps, rifle raised and at the ready!!
Oozlevort picks through the brush and bushes full of leaves, tearing brambles from his robes as they transit the thick Felucian jungle. "Terrible planet," he mutters to himself. Upon seeing a rancor the Gand immediately darts for cover, not waiting to become lunch like that poor stormtrooper. The Gand levels his pistol at the rancor and flips it back to KILL. He waits for an order to fire.
The Rancor seems to have its pick of the field as Stormtroopers in bright white armor run here and there, streaking in the open areas between buildings either to get away from the rampaging beast or to run for cover. The beast hurls the top half of the severed Trooper away, the body flying directly for the emerging troopers under Jophie's command, a large trail of blood flying from the corpse as it arcs through the air to thud into the leafy undergrowth.
Emma's shot is true, the bark of the rifle masked by the hysteria that is gripping the small village. What is not so masked is the bullet as it tears directly through the Rancor's left eye, blowing the orb apart and rendering it useless. The Rancor's head tilts back in outrage and agony, a roar of pain sending the ground shaking underfoot, apparently causing Foil's blaster shot to go unnoticed as the enraged beast runs for the backing and spreading Troopers and aims a large and heavy kick for Foil which misses and knocks a hole in the side of one small building.
Jophie watches on the tactical as her troops fan out and surround. The beast lashes and crashes about, but she waits. Waits. Waits. Raising her own rifle, she calls calmly into the comlink. "Fire..." And then she squeezes off a shot of her own.
There's a pun to be made about 'Deadeye' snipers, but EM-1710 is far too concerned with the man-eating creature attacking them. Her fire had easily distrupted her cloak so she was visible as any other, however her two precise blasts had effortlessly burned through the creature's eyeballs. Not enough to kill it, but certainly enough to improve their odds.
"How is it still moving?!" Firing a much more accurate blast straight into the thing's chest, it seems to merely be irritated by the shot from FL-5114, Sanitation Specialist Third Class. Still backing up swiftly, the stormtrooper doesn't lower his rifle and he doesn't break and run. But seriously, what the hell is that thing?!
"FIRE!" Rhona echoes, opening up with her own weapon and peppering the huge, nasty thing with shots. It's almost too big to miss, but it's deceptively fast, and it hasn't stopped moving yet, even blinded by Emmy's impressive shooting. "Good shooting!" she congratulates the sniper. There's till Zoom's question, of course. "It's a Rancor, Zoom! They eat Stormtroopers! Don't be its next snack!" she calls, firing from the concealment of the corner of that hut. The wall's a good place to brace her weapon, too.
The troops are on the jungle planet of Felucia, dispatched under a red alert and mass exodus of the Finalizer. Along the way, General Hux had come across the communications array and informed the troops that Luke Skywalker was known to have been spotted on the planet. A unit was dispatched ahead of the main body of troops to intercept the Jedi, in hopes of holding him until the main force could arrive. The planet itself is a thick tangle of sprawling jungle, flying close to the surface and angling for open shots likely a difficult maneuver in and of itself. Upon arriving on the outskirts of a large sprawling village, the troops found the troops to be under attack by at /least/ one Rancor.
The troops battling the now blind Rancor seem to be making considerable progress. Emma's second shot strikes through the remaining eye and the roar, lower and whining, points toward considerable internal damage. The Rancor lurches onward, blindly striking out with both forepaws, large claws whizzing past Oozlevort as it strikes out blindly and stomps on empty air. As blaster fire arcs forward hitting the beast in the chest, blood begins to flow in large rivers as the monster sinks toward one knee. It's head tilts back and it lets forth a long, mournful keen, which is answered from further in the village by a loud roar of outrage and steady stomping of a second Rancor charging to its aid.
"Bring it down!" Rhona snaps, continuing to fire. "It'd probably be kinder," she adds, much more softly. After all, the thing can't even see to find food now. Starvation is a very cruel death. The sound of /another/ homewrecker that's probably just as big as this one chills her blood. "Stick to cover, Delta, and watch for that new target. Let's try to see it before it sees us!" She switches frequencies. "Top Dog, this is Knife. We have large, angry nonsentient approaching from the west, requesting air support, danger-close. Authorization FN-4126, Delta 54827," she calls, giving the authorization code for the day... and hoping the TIE-jockeys are having a Good Air Day.
Fuze's voice crackles over comms, possibly a sound for sore ears. "FN-4126, FZ-4792, one TIE inbound to your location, ETA in five, four, three..." The one great thing about Rancors is that they generally don't possess anti-aircraft batteries. Which means TIE fighters can come almost to a hover and pour down their lethal fire from above. Almost to a hover, but not quite, since there's nothing sends prickles down a TIE pilot's spine than sitting like, well, sitting ducks. So the TIE fighter screams in, the banshee wail of the twin ion engines sounding their characteristic scream, and then drifts across the village. In the cockpit, Squadron Commander FZ-4792 adjusts her HUD display with a delicate touch of her gloved fingers, identifying the large mass of charging Rancor in her hyperspectral imager, and caresses the firing stud. An almost continuous stream of laser tracer fire pours from her ship, and she makes little adjustments to her aim as the TIE drifts across the village. "Three-Four, keep your eyes peeled for this Skywalker and his Resistance friends," she tells her gunner absently. "If it comes to it, the Rancors can wait." And to hell with the Stormtroopers down there is the clear implication, said without a hint of regret.
The sniper looks up in suprise and horror at the new arrival of the second Rancor, but the expression is going to be hidden from memory by the blankness of her helmet's mask. Fortunately the higher ups are on the case as they're quickly treated to the sound of screaming angels. Now she's smiling as she turns the rifle back towards her first target, her blaster bolt hitting the wounded creature solidly.
Bring it down, she said. Bring it down. Inside his helmet, FL-5114's eyes narrow. He can do this.
Suddenly, FL-5114 is no longer running. He is charging the beast, ducking under a swung claw and then jumping over the rolling upper torso of a destroyed trooper. Rax Leaps off a wooden cart onto the knee of the Rancor, /right up in its business/ as he lifts his rifle...and fires a plasma shot right through its throat up into its cranium at /point blank range!!/ His vocoder attempts to process his battlecry as he holds down the trigger!
Oozlevort ceases firing at the blind and wounded rancor. "We are here to find the Jedi, not kill rancors," he says over the comm channel. The Gand begins to move forward, creeping from house to house so as to not fall in the path of the next rancor!
As Foil charges the kneeling and keening Rancor, he finds little difficulty jumping up onto the beasts knee and angling his blaster up toward the beasts throat. As Emma's shot races in and catches the beast right beneath its chin, blood spurts down onto Foil's polished white armor, streaking it red. As the yelling man fires upward, that wound widens more and more, blood pouring from the wounded beasts throat and covering the Stormtrooper as the keening cry turns into a gurgle. The beast begins to fall forward, bending at the waist and knocking Foil from its knee as it's head suddenly slumps downward as it collapses. Foil isn't quick enough to get out from under the falling beast and is caught beneath it from the waist down beneath the monster's shoulders, only his upper half protruding from the fallen monster.
The TIE makes quick work of the charging Rancor, the beast wheeling to try and strike out at the strafing TIE only to be fired upon repeatedly, blood splattering with each heavy impact as the beast is mowed down, unable to catch the TIE with its lumbering strikes.
Rhona can't do anything but stare as Foil dashes in and pulls a move right out of a barbarian fantasy holodrama, save for the blaster he's using. For a long moment, she can't even speak! Then Em's shot cores out the wounded Rancor's brain, and it collapses. Predictably, it ends up using Foil as a belly-pillow. The spell is broken, and now the Sergeant has to try not to collapse in laughter instead. "Nice work, Zoom, Em. But next time, Zoom, remember that we give you those blasters so you /don't have to/ get so close to the monsters." She moves to get him out of his prone predicament. If the Bug wants to fuss and fume, he's got time now. "Thanks, Fuze," she adds, on the other channel. "Those things were tearing us apart down here.”
"Ow." is all FL-5114 says when a Rancor lands on him. "Yeah...that popped something. Oh." But then Rho is trying to pull on him and FL-5114 suddenly screams. "AHHHHH! Get it off first! Argh! Why?!" But he's not really in any position to do anything other than get dragged around by some Sergeant! He's also soaked a dark crimson from head to toe, looking like some sort of special sort of Stormtrooper. Bloodtrooper.
EM-1710 moves with a grin at the fact she'd technically managed to kill her first rancor. Not alone, but it's as close to one as she likely would have managed. "Thank you ma'am," the trooper nods to Rhona before moving towards the trapped Zoom with a frown. She'll offer an arm to help him free, but there's no way she's going to be lifting that thing.
Oozlevort sneaks ahead to scout the rest of the village. The Gand peers from around a building, finding a multi-level building that seems to have been missed by all of the other stormtroopers. Missed in an almost deliberate fashion! Seeing an opportunity, Oozlevort radios to the rest of the squad. "There is a building here at the end of the village. Something is strange about it. It is untouched."
"Fuze copies. Any time you groundpounders need protection from some oversize doggies," FZ-4792 responds cheerfully. "Any sign of this Skywalker?" With the second rancor obliterated, she's pulled into a tight orbiting turn over the village, picking up speed, her HUD picking out speckles that correspond to Stormtroopers, noting them mentally as places to try to avoid shooting at. Unless a deal breaker like Skywalker comes up. Her gunner's tracking the sky behind her, lest there be any unexpected surprises sprung from above. Then, the Gand's voice crackles over comms, and she angles round to scan the building with the aforementioned hyper-spectral imager. "C'mon, talk to me, tell me what's there," she mutters to her instrumentation.
At FN-4126's pull, FL-5114 does indeed manage to slip slowly and agonizingly from beneath the Rancor the harder she pulls, his ankle likely doing horrible things beneath the huge beast until finally he pops free. The Gand seems to be correct in that the larger building, likely some form of central meeting hall, has been untouched by the stray blaster fire and rampaging Rancors
"Did /you/ bring a power-loader, Zoom? I know I didn't," Rhona replies through gritted teeth, using her shoulder to try and lever some clearance for the trooper even as she's pulling him out, with Em's assistance. "At least it didn't turn you into a Human-shaped sweetjack.”
She sighs and straightens, stretching out a back that is already promising soreness later. "Nothing so far, Fuze. But that's no surprise: This Skywalker's been dodging us for a long time. I have a bad feeling that there are some very good reasons he's still uncaught.”
Sometimes, though, you just have to have the right person around. Like a certain fussy Bug. "Untouched..? That definitely shouldn't be true, not here," the Sergeant says, frowning. "Em, Zoom, double-time. We've got to check this out. Stay sharp and check your corners. The wildlife's far from the only dangerous thing on this planet." She leads off, taking her own advice and staying alert. There's no time to lose.
"AaAAAAAAaaaAAARGH! Ah! AH! ...Ow." FL-5114 lays on his back, visor caked with blood. He's entirely crimson. "Medic. Cybersurgeon. Dark Healers. Help." He's just going to lay there for a moment. He's exhausted his Heroism tank for the moment. His ankle is facing very much the wrong way.
Moving on behind the Sergeant, Em does just that, double-timing it to catch up to the others. Her cloak doesn't reengage, she'll be visible for the time being, but that doesn't really matter when she's almost certain she's going to be shooting again very very soon.
Oozlevort grows tired of waiting for the stragglers. He moves toward the untouched building with stealth, holding outside the door with his pistol drawn.
As the troops limp and otherwise sneak toward where Oozlevort is crouched and waiting, they find that he is indeed correct about the two story building and how it has seemed to escape the notice of any stray blaster fire or Rancor rampaging. There are no guards positioned outside or around the building, it simply stands with a closed door, waiting for someone to open it.
FZ-4792 continues to circle. "Not getting anything I can read from the target house," she reports back to Rhona on comms. She locks a missile onto the structure, fingers held over the firing stud, as she waits for more intel from the ground.
FL-5114 just lays there. "Double time? Seriously?" Very slowly, FL-5114 starts to sit up...and then thunks back down. "Nope. That's not happening. ...Ow." Loosing a little bit of his comedic edge--but not all of it--the Stormtrooper comments, "...My everything.”
"Oozlevort, sit-rep. We're closing on you from the east, ETA thirty seconds," Rhona calls over the com, wincing in sympathy with Zoom. Her own back's already in pain, and she's doing her best to ignore it. At least she didn't call the bounty hunter Bug. This time.
Oozlevort sneaks up to the door. "Oozlevort will see what is inside. Perhaps a Jedi we are looking for." He opens the doors to look inside the untouched building.
As Oozlevort turns the knob, he finds it unlocked and the door swings inward without a sound, that is until the door bangs against the wall and the rows of villagers inside the building turn to regard the Gand with scared and fearful eyes. Every person either woman, child, or elderly. One woman screams and then children are crying, whatever magic that had kept this building unnoticed broken as wails of fear begin to echo out of the doorway and around the standing Gand.
FZ-4792's TIE continues to circle the village, the bright skeletal outline of the building in her HUD centered inside the targeting rings. "FZ-4792, request permission to just drop a missile on the building?" she asks, of the ground team leader. "If Skywalker's inside, we don't need to waste Stormtroopers on clearing it, do we?" She's blithely ignorant of Oozlevort's discovery, and the scary thought is that she might not change her mind even if she was.
"Stay frosty, Fuze. We don't know what's in there, Hell, it could be our own," Rhona replies, as she closes on the building. The ever-serious Sergeant misses the sarcasm in the pilots voice... or just ignores it for the sake of the mission recorders. No point in Fuze getting in trouble for trying to do her job.
And then Oozlevort opens the door. And the screaming starts. "Oozlevort, what did you just..?" Rhona peers around the doorway herself, seeing what's inside. And her mind goes numb for a momentm as she realizes what would have happened if she'd given Fuze the drop order. “...find?"
She toggles frequencies again. "Fuze, hold fire! There are civilians in the building, repeat, civilians in the building! Delta, stand down and maintain security! There's something seriously weird going on here.”
But for now, there's only the way forward. Which leaves a certain Sergeant no choice. Sighing, she steps through the doorway, weapon in readiness even if she has no intention of using it. "Quiet, please! You will not be harmed!”
Oozlevort waves his pistol around at the screaming children and women and such. "We know you know where SKYWALKER is. We know you are hiding SKYWALKER. Where is SKYWALKER? Give him up and nobody gets hurt! If you do not, we start firing MISSILES!" He points at the sky with his blaster pistol, indicating missiles from above. He is a people person.
Fuze's finger jerks off the firing stud as if stung, and she mutters a little about "little more notice, Rhona, next time. Little intel please..." But that's strictly for the ears of her and her gunner alone. To Rhona, her voice comes over clear, "Fuze copies. Standing by.”
Rhona manages not to shake her head in dismay. Instead, she drops an iron-hard grip on the Gand's shoulder. "Hey! Women and children here! Let! Me! Handle! This!" she snaps, playing off of his aggro by taking the part of the angel to his devil. She sighs and turns to the multitude of wide eyes. "What my... /dramatic/ friend is trying to say is that we are looking for Master Skywalker. He is wanted for questioning by the First Order Armed Forces. If you have any information as to Master Skywalker's whereabouts, please speak now."
The women and children inside the building begin to calm as FN-4126 steps inside, speaking in a peaceful tone toward them, whether they understand her or not. Their eyes are fearfully on her rifle as she holds it across her chest. That calmness that has been creeping over them vanishes the moment Oozlevort steps in and starts pointing his blaster at children and yelling. The screams renew and one of the old men hobbles forward as fast as he can, stretching his arms across, baring his chest as he hopes to shield the women and children. "Skywalker gone, Skywalker gone," he says over and over, hand gesturing toward the wall of the building which faces the large cave.
No sooner does that old and wizened finger point that direction than an X-wing screams out of the darkness of that cave's mouth, a blaster bolt roaring out and colliding with Fuze's engine. It is a glancing, if disabling blow, and Fuze loses control of her TIE, her TIE spinning and smoking badly until it crashes into a large and leafy cushion of undergrowth. The X-wing does not slow, does not engage the First Order troops as it races off into the sky and disappeared.
Laying on his back, FL-5114 comments, "They'll be back. They can't have forgotten that I'm here. Back with painkillers...maybe a cybernetic leg...a medal...hot women...awards...my own AT-ST..." FL-5114 lays there, watching the sky through his crimson-tinted visor. "...They'll be back."
