Log:Gone in 60 Parsecs

Gone in 60 Parsecs

OOC Date: March 27, 2016
Location: Chop Shop
Participants: Gren Delede, Sar Yavok, Sabella Lockheart, Bar'duur, Rebel Yell

Rebel Yell caught a job, albeit a dirty one, but it's hard to say no to a desperate, crying woman who only wants her shuttle craft back. It was her father's she said, the last thing she has to remember him by. The cash payout wasn't much, but it's been a slow week and the crew was getting restless. Besides, the danger is supposed to be minimal and it gives them an excuse to stretch their legs but there's only one catch: don't get caught.

The retrieval location was narrowed down to the lower, dirty part of the city because that's the last position the transponder was said to have worked. And with that the group set out to pound the ground.

It ended up being a long afternoon, bouncing around from one bad lead to the other. Perhaps it's by pure luck that they finally narrow their mark down to a run down mechanic's shop with a single bay surrounded by a clapboard fence of miss matched metal. Two men are standing out by the side door, sharing a chat and a smoke as the sun begins to set.

"I told you not to take that damn last skyway...." Gren bitches over his shoulder at no one in particular. Just bitching. He's huffing and puffing a bit, the old pilot hasn't exactly been keeping up with his exercise. And the heavy armor that he wears weighs a damned ton. He eyes Sar over his shoulder, and then shrugs. He's feeling motivated today. His most pleasant face is put on, and he approaches the pair of men standing outside of their destination. "Mates. Good to see you. We've got a Skipray needs disappearing. Mind if we see your boss?" Because this smells like a chop shop. Maybe they'll believe his lie?

Clank. Clank. Clank. Sar's finally got a chance to dust off his favorite new piece of equipment: his CAS Formfitter Armor. I.e. Iron Man but without all that lame-ass flying around. "Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that she only knew Ryl?" the Commander asks, tromping through the under-belly of the Smuggler's Moon. "And I distinctly remember you dating a Twi'lek once, Delede, so I figured that, y'know, you wouldn't be completely useless. Once again, you prove me wrong on that front with flyin' fuckin' colors."

Sar doesn't seem too tuckered out, most likely due to the armor's built-in powered joints taking a little bit of the load off of his own. And because he's Sar Yavok. He approaches the chop shop behind Gren, his face plate still retracted as he looks the undesirable types over.

Bar'duur is trudging along, getting tired, maybe it's the stairs, are there stairs? There must be somewhere. He looks about with mildly knit brow, thoughtful and quiet as he tends to be when it's time for business. The man has his pistol and sword, neither are drawn though his hands rest in a semi-casual manner at his hips, and he looks over the two on guard duty, sizing them up.

Sabella Lockheart has follows along during this whole job from start to finish and here they may finally have some sort of a lead. The trek up to the shop has her gaze drifting over the area slightly before she looks back to the pair of men that are standing there which Gren is busy talking to. She stands quietly listening in curious like for the moment.

The men named Reeks and Smelley - judging by the name tags that are sewn on the pockets of their coveralls - eye the brazen group as they come in through the fence. All the armor is eyed suspiciously, and the former man blows a stream of smoke in Gren's face. "Scram, before things get as ugly as you are. Private property, asshats." Smelley however seems to be taking a different route, and is walking away from the group back to the door at a clipped pace.

"We didn't talk much, Yavok. I preferred it when her mouth was full...." Gren replies off-handedly over his shoulder toward Sar. His smile drops when his head turns, having heard the way that Reeky addressed his very polite inquiry. His eyes widen slightly as if trying to signal the Rebel Yell crew, before head swivels back to the pair of men. "Well, if you insist..." His smile returns, and in a flash the DL-44 is out of its holder, and in his left hand. A flurry of five red blaster bolts tear out toward the two men, the scoped hand cannon barking. The smart-mouth is burnt down with a hole in his coveralls, and the one that had set to scurrying off is wounded badly in his leg. Smoke drifts from the heavy blaster pistol's barrel, and he sighs. "Useless, Sar? I left one alive for you to fucking question." Hmph. A swift, subtle look to check on Sabella.

"You're a treasure, Delede," Sar responds, tromping his way over to the downed guard. The suit hisses and creaks and he crouches down and grips the crawling guard by the ankle, easily pulling him back along the floor towards him. His metal-clad fingers tap the man on the chest and he says, "Alright, bud. We're looking for a shuttle. Bouncing Betty. Belonged to our employer's father. Seen it?"

Bar'duur is about ready to engage one of the men, but it seems Gren took down the both of them, so he pulls out his own weapon and starts to check out the perimeter to make sure no one is going to surprise them, for now. He looks over to Sabella now and then as though to make sure she's alright, even though she seems better off than him right now.

Sabella Lockheart blinks as she follows the conversation and lifts her head slightly as she watches the one starting to walk off. She catches sight of the one heading away and lifts a finger slightly before Gren starts shooting. "Well... He was going towards a security keypad, so might want to make sure he can't fully reach it?" As for herself? Yep she's just fine and dandy thanks, her hand does move to rest upon her blaster though. A glance is sent over to Bar'duur though, as for Gren she will look over to him. "You sleep with them things don't you?"

Smelley is already bleeding profusely from his thigh when Sar catches up with him and drags him backwards. He looks up with wide eyes at the man as Sar questions him, and the acrid smell of urine fills the air. Poor guy has pissed his pants. "Look, I don't know nothin' man. I just do what my employer tells me to do. We-we got a ship in the bay, yeah but the paint job's already been stripped."

Perhaps it's the sound of violence, or something has been caught on the security cameras because the door flings open and a little blonde girl in pigtails shrieks: "DADDY!" At the body of the fallen Reeks. Her hand reaches out and slaps on the security pad. Suddenly there is the buzzing sound of electricity.

"If it's female, warm, and says yes...generally...yeah, I do sleep with most things, Sabella. Or I used to, before I reformed...." Gren replies to his daughter, conversational while Sar does what Sar does. "Did he just pis...." Words are interrupted as the little girl appears, hits the button, and his own flesh and blood is zapped. "You little bitch! YOUR DAD WAS AN ASSHOLE!" The Coruscanti shouts, his heavy blaster swinging upward again, and another loud bark as energy is discharged. The little girl is struck square in the center of her chest, and drops like a sack of space potatoes. The bolt was a wide blue circle though, as the former Imp had enough presence of mind to flick it over to stun as he took the shut. Still, he is moving toward Sabella, trying to make sure she's not dead. "Did I just shoot a kid?" is muttered, but...he'll live with it. "Someone secure that panel!"

WHIIIIIRR. SQUISH. Sar's hand comes down hard into the face of the downed guard, leading said face to spread liberally all over the floor, with the rest of the poor man's head. The Commander stands up and rolls his big metal shoulders, hand reaching down to grip at the EE-3 on his hip. "Alright. Good start." A point to Bar, "Watch the entrance." To Delede, "Get Sabella situated. We're clearing out that bay."

Bar'duur had moved off from the grid patterned ground, having noted it, it made him uncomfortable, to stand there. When he hears the buzzing sound and turns back he shouts out. "Sabella!" Before hurrying back over to check on her, though Gren is there first. He has a concerned look, that calms when she seems alright.. in general. Then he is moving over toward the panel by the door, minding the stunned kid on the ground. "Right." He says, and stands guard, like he was told..

"I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear you say that seeing how I didn't even mean ladies." Sabella offers with a half teasing tone. Her gaze turns towards the new person, a girl and then she's flat on her butt with a half yelp escaping her in the process. That grid was never seen by her and she finds out why it is there as well. She's quiet but breathing so that is good at least. At least she didn't have her blaster out for that could cause a issue with the others around her. "Bloody hell..." Does escape her.

The interior of the garage seems to be deserted, but perhaps that is due to the late hour. Indeed there is a shuttle craft situated in the bay, stripped of all outer markings and down to the base grey metal like it just came off of the assembly line not long ago. There is a closed door the left and a staircase leading upwards at the far end. Somewhere music is playing and there is a Twi'Lick calendar hanging on the wall, the place littered with tools of the mechanic's trade. And then the security panel has a countdown from 10...9...

When Gren is convinced that Sabella isn't dying, and that there isn't anymore shocks coming, he gives her a squeeze on the shoulder..."Hang tight. I'm going to make sure Sar doesn't get killed..." Because, that is kind of his job, most times. The old pilot stands, and follows after the Corellian. Blaster still drawn, though the power pack is down to a handful of shots, courtesy of his haphazard blasting. He doesn't notice the security panel. He's gonna peep that calendar for a second, though.

Sar Yavok begins wandering around the inside of the hangar, gun hanging idly by his side. Something catches his eye and he moves to a wall-mounted holo terminal. He squints as he looks the thing over, "Bought at auction, looks like." A look over to Delede and he asks, "You get the same feelin' I'm gettin' about this mission, Gren?"

Bar'duur frowns at the computer panel, noting the numbers counting down, the tribal Zabrak clears his throat. "Hey this is counting." He looks to Sabella. "You are good with computers right?" He steps to the side and turns his attention elsewhere to do as he was told, keep an eye out and guard.

Sabella Lockheart lifts her hand to rub at her eyes and mutters faintly while moving slowly to sit up. Everything hurts at the moment and she isn't about to hang tight thank you very much. She shifts slowly and is getting herself up, working on get away from that grid just incase. "Computers?" Is half questioned while she shakes her hand a few times as it feels a bit numb from how she landed on it. "Yeah, what's it doing?" Seeing how she is still outside at the moment, moving quickly isn't high on her list right now.

Gren gets an eyeful of Twi'lek pootang, being it's a promotion for the strip club but at the moment there doesn't seem to be anything threatening inside. Bar'duur and Sabella are at the security panel, the latter unable to figure out precisely what the countdown means just by looking at it. Perhaps it's just a timer until the next shock wave hits the grid? But it's hard to say. It continues counting down, and when it hits 5, the external speaker barks the number.

"Someone is using us as a wrecking ball, thieves...or both?" Gren replies with a frown, glancing at Sar, as he's done ogling the calendar. Or rather, he's interrupted by the speaker barking a countdown when it hits five. There is an audible sigh and he huffs and puffs his way out the front door, and sort of shoves between Sabella and Bar. He eyes the system, punches in a few commands, and then the countdown stops. "Alarm system! Looks like it might call up some security contractors! Well, if I'd left these two trying to decipher it." A pause. "We should get into this racket. Monthly fees, you know?" Because, yeah. He might've just murdered an innocent dude and shot his daughter. But, they were assholes. "Sab. The savage not understanding, I get. But, maybe your head got zapped worse than it seemed?"

"Well, at least we're not getting swarmed. Yet," Sar remarks, slipping his blaster into its holster. His big metal arms reach up to cross in front of his chest and he looks to his group. "Sabella, see about giving this shuttle a once-over. Gren, get inside and run a quick diagnostic. Bar, we're gonna watch for any more of these assholes, alright?"

Bar'duur blinks at the groggy looking Sabella. "She just needs some time." he offers in explanation, moving aside to make room for Gren to use the panel, since he's not so good with computers. "Savage.." He says curiously but doesn’t ask more about it, not seeming offended just curious. When Sar speaks the horn-headed man nods. "Whatever you say boss." He says in reply.

Sabella Lockheart goes about looking at the keypad and is pulling out a small screwdriver even before Gren is there working at the keys. She's quiet for a moment before a faint breath escapes her. "It knocked me on my butt. Haven't had that happen in a while." When one works with machines and the like it is a given it will happen a times. The savage bit towards Bar'duur has her sending a faint glance to Gren but she doesn't comment on it other then giving Bar'duur's arm a faint pat as she heads over to the shuttle in question.

At last the panel is quiet, leaving an eerie silence that the music fills the void of. These guys have weird taste in tunes, because it's some kind of binary rap, but the beeps and boops are great at hiding ambient noises around the hangar. The shuttle bay door is open, minor work being done on the interior. There is a panel open on the side, some of the guts exposed which might explain the lack of transponder.

Sar Yavok steps into the shuttle and looks around, squinting a bit. He exhales a quiet 'hrmmm' and begins musing to himself and anyone who's listening. "Cracked down on a group of slave traders about ten years ago. Actually ran in a ship about this size. Seems a little small for slave trading, yeah? Well, what they did..." He moves over to one of the walls and pats his gloved hand around for a moment before his big metallic fingers grip something and he rips a panel down. "...was ice them down and stick 'em in the walls. Hid 'em from some of the more rudimentary sensors." He smacks his lips a bit and says, "Yeah, this shuttle isn't just an old keepsake."

Bar'duur is.. standing at the door still? Apparently? He's doing whatever he was supposed to do, just keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, covering the backs of his fellow yellers.

Sabella Lockheart is lost in her world, which is checking out that shuttle right now, a mini light in hand and she is checking over several things while moving things here and there in the process. "Something isn't right inside this shuttle..." She is mumbling to herself right now while working, the music is just a dull humm, or perhaps there is some buzzing in her ears that is making her ignore it. With the inside looking over she is checking on the bulkheads and the like. "This interior is to small, but it was built that way. Someone put effort into it for certain." She goes about tapping upon a bulkhead and glances over to Sar and Gren. "There is more room between each bulkhead, shouldn't have that much. Perhaps trying to hide things? It also isn't flyable, I think they were attempting to resale it, perhaps refit things for it even."

Sar and Sabella realize the truth of the matter, the ship at hand was built out to be a smuggling vessel. The former finds nothing in the walls, but there is a fine bluish powder by Sabella's feet that she can't account for anything mechanical or that would be aboard such a vessel. Something's been hauled out of here. A lot of something, judging by how much space the engineer is able to calculate.

The door near Bar'duur opens, an office beyond where a man was apparently taking a nap on the battered couch within. It was the countdown on the panel that woke him, undoubtedly, and the noise within the shop that just shouldn't be there. In his hand is a plasma grenade, ancient from the looks of it. A relic from the war. His eyes sweep quickly from those in the shuttle to the man with the gun to ...is that Sukzi dead in the doorway? "Mother fu--"

"Spice," Sar says, gesturing to the powder on the floor. He kneels down and gathers some on his finger tip before he taps it to his tongue. "Pretty decent quality, too. But us taking out the refinery has done a number on the purity in the region. A look to Sabella and he says, "Not air-worthy, huh? Sounds like our client just didn't feel like paying for repairs, or was just hoping we'd end up dead. Either way, I need to have a talk with her."

Bar is keeping a look out like he was told, glancing over toward the shuttle for a moment as if he might see what's going on and get some information, it is then that he notes the opening door, the man standing with a grenade. The Zabrak acts on instinct, he drops the pistol, and launches forward to ram his fist into the man's face, his other hand reaching out, covering the grenade in his hand so he can use the other to jab upward with his elbow, and then hauling said grenade away and spinning, all in one fluid motion to swing his leg out and whap the poor slob in the side of his head, sending him flying away and leaving Bar'duur to land in a ready pose, his right leg forward and bent, left extended, holding the grenade at his side with the other up and at the ready with fist clenched.

Sabella Lockheart glances to the dust that Sar point out and kneels down, a slight frown seen an she nods while glancing to Sar. "I can get it running, just need to put some work into it. Though it won't be flying out of here right this moment." She is about to go on when there is a new voice and she glances over looking rather worried to say the least. "He has a grenade..." Is half murmured out. When Bar'duur moves to deal with the man she just looks surprised at what happens. "...woah..."

The man that came out of the office is splayed out in a rather spectacular fashion, his unconscious for skidding across the floor and ending up in a crumpled mess next to a shelving unit. The grenade doesn't go off. Perhaps it never will judging by the amount of deterioration that's occurred over the years but there was no way Bar'Duur would have known that before the sacrifice. Now he has it in hand like he just plucked the beating heart out of his enemy.

"Bar! Good stuff, but bring your be-horned ass over to this shuttle and buckle in," Sar shouts down the ramp, before turning to look at Sabella, "Alright. Get us in the air. Gonna see about getting some more information out of our client before we go handing her shuttle back."

Bar'duur takes a moment to peek inside the room where that guy just appeared before he catches Sar's call, reaching for the pistol to tuck it away as he starts to run over toward the shuttle at a brisk pace, stepping up and inside to buckle himself in. "Right." He says, taking the grenade souvenir with him.

Sabella Lockheart isn't sure what to say honestly while just peering out that shuttle at Bar'duur and the grenade. "That shit better not blow up when we are in the air." Is all she says while she grabs a few tools from her belt and is busy getting a few odds and ends into order. It'll take a few moments, well ok before more then a few moments though soon enough there will be a soft humm heard from the shuttle. "Alright, that should do it." She hopes it will not fall apart around them honestly.

Sabella is able to slap the ship back together with her trusty tools and the parts spread across the garage. It's a dirty job and she's grease laden by the time she opens up the garage's door and crawls back on in time for Gren to fire her up and taxi it out into the open. Right now it's highly illegal, running without any registration or transponder but the course is set for the rendezvous private pad of the woman that hired them. For better or worse, they're setting down and she's rushing out to meet them.

Bar'duur watches Sabella finishing her work and secures his seat straps. he offers her a little grin as they start to take off. "What is it?" He asks, holding it out. "Looks like a grenade but I don’t recognize it." he specifies this to Sar since he knows about that sort of thing, then over to Sabella again and he grins. "I knew you could get this thing to fly again."

Sar Yavok has removed the helmet from his armor and comes marching down the ramp, gun in his hand. He looks the woman over and squints, asking, in his best Clint Eastwood, "Just what exactly was your plan, huh?"

Sabella Lockheart smirks at Bar'duur. "That is an old issue that can go boom and blow us all to bits. A thanks... Just hope it stays in one piece." She offers while working on getting some of the muck and grim off. Once the shuttle lands she looks out slightly watching the woman and then Sar. She shifts slowly in the seat and glances around to make sure no one is coming out with guns thanks to Sar's move.

The woman squares up her shoulders as Sar approaches her, even though he's in such fancy armor her chin is held high and she doesn't seem to back down despite his demeanor. "To get my ship back, is what. And you did it. So now the way I see it is it's just down to a little manner of payment and you can be off on your way. If. Everything is intact."

Sar Yavok squints once more at the woman and says, "Bullshit. You fed me a lie from the start. This sob story about your daddy's ship isn't fooling me." He lifts a finger and points it at her, "You or somebody you know has a hand in the spice trade, so stop trying to jerk me off."

Bar'duur grins at Sabella and shrugs. "Well, what is the worth of living without a little risk, and, it did not go off yet.. but I do see what you are saying." He winks at the girl a bit, waiting for it to touch down before he makes his way off and his gaze turns to the woman, watching her somewhat intently, before his green orbs turn to take in his surroundings, looking for any sign of unexpected danger. "Given the value involved, we should at least be paid more." He says this without even looking at the woman, too busy keeping an eye out, just in case.

Sabella Lockheart shifts and is moving off the ship after Bar'duur, though she pauses next to the doorway though. Her hand settles against her blaster though as she is worries after what they just went through. Her gaze turns back to Sar and the woman and she listens in on the conversation as best she can.

The woman's eyes grow until the whites can be seen all around her irises. They know. She knows they know. Now they know that she knows that they know. "No!" She cries, rushing for the open bay door and shouldering past Sabella despite the hand on her weapon. She drops to her knees the minute she sees the blue dust covering the deck plating, her palms skittering in the powder like she's trying to collect it. "What did you do? Where is it!?"

Sar Yavok stomps up the ramp of the shuttle and closes the distance between himself and the woman, lifting his pistol and pressing the barrel of it to the back of her head. "Start talking, or I swear I'm gonna split your head open and have myself a brand new shuttle."

Bar'duur glances over to the woman turning and moving to follow after with a frown, and then a look of some concern as he sees her desperation. "What happened? Come clean and tell us, no more lies." He offers, maybe he is playing good cop, because he does not even flinch as Sar's pistol is put there, he's just giving some background commentary versus the looming threat, to help Sar get information. His gaze turns to Sabella, and then around again, still wary of unexpected visitors, even if it seems less likely now.

Sabella Lockheart shifts to make sure the woman doesn't have to shove past her to much. She goes to say something but pauses once Sar is there asking the questions with that pistol at the ladies head. For a moment she makes a face before looking back across the area. "You best just answer him lady. I really rather have to hose out this shuttle cause of your brains being everywhere." This isn't The Walking Dead Star Wars after all.

"They have my father..." The woman breaks into a sob the minute the gun is pressed to her head, clearly she is no stranger to such a sensation. She holds her hands in front of her, blue dust coating her palms that are shown to the sky as some sort of capitulation. "All I had to do...all I had to do was use my ship for one payload, no questions asked and they'd give him back, but the banks took it before I could make the delivery and now...Oh god, what did you do with it. Is it all gone?!"

Sar Yavok grunts and flicks the safety on his EE-3 into position, before he slides it back into his holster. "Get up." He takes a breath and points at her, "This is what you should have told at the /beginning/. Kept us from running around with our heads up our asses." A point to Gren and he says, "Delede. Take us back to the hangar." He moves to have a seat on one of the chairs and looks the woman, "You and I are going to have a private chat. And re-negotiate the terms of this arrangement." There's a pause and he grunts again. "And we're gonna get your father back."