Log:Hutt Cartel: Dominion
Hutt Cartel enforcers and mercenaries mete out justice.
OOC Date: April 6, 2023
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Borgol the Hutt as GM, Attichitcuk, Amal Jha, Hadrix Kora, Snogrutt, Zena Tane
The effort to punish a few upstart thugs is underway. A handful of two-man groups of Cartel enforcers have taken up position around the target location. Some time ago the structure was an empty, dilapidated shell that had fallen out of use as a three story shared housing structure in the underbelly of the Smuggler's Moon. Now it's an occupied, dilapidated shell that has found a new use as a shared housing structure in the hands of a group of armed thugs who had been making trouble for those who pay the Hutt Cartel some measure of protection. At least that's the unofficially official rumor.
Street level is currently observed by Cartel enforcers out in, well, force. Their goal is to maintain security in a wide net around the structure and prevent any escapes. Thankfully the Cartel and Lord Borgol's own kajidic are ruthless and subtle as ever: while they've got a significant amount of manpower, guns, and equipment in the area? It's all cleverly concealed or otherwise subtle enough to have failed to alert the target area.
It's the lower level's rooftop that the speeder carrying the group of Cartel hitters arrives. The large rooftop appears to be empty and while it may be unable to land properly, the airspeeder is at least able to maintain its repulsorlifts as it hovers two and a half feet from the rooftop's surface.
He'd met with Borgol a few days ago with his mate who happened to be in Borgol's employ. When Atti inquired about working for or with the Hutts he was told to prove himself, by lending his strength to this mission. So here he arrives all nine foot three inch mass of muscle and fur Ryyk blade in his large paw.
Amal, Lord Borgol's own Wraith, stepped out into the open air, and away from the speeder, knees flexing as she took the impact of the last few feet to drop to the building roof. It was reduces, of course, by the grav belt built into her attire, but it was always a good thing to take precautions, in case of failure. The baton she carried was markedly different from her usual rapier, but no doubt that august weapon was somewhere on her person. "Easiest to clear the building from the top down."
Zena Tane of Clan Klooo is here, helping to hold things up while her boss, the enforcer Teela, is busy with unspecified business. The Mandalorian is actually not in the speeder. She's on the roof of a building across the street.
She's prone at the lip of the roof, her bipoded rifle set up. She makes a few final checks on her gear before sidling up to her rifle and taking aim, her viewfinder set up and flagging friendlies.
Hopefully.
Mercenary work was mercenary work, on an opposing rooftop with clear view of the target zone, Hadrix hunkers at the ledge, adjusting the new links of power-coupling connected metal wrapped about him like a bandolier.
<<"Element in position, ready to make entry on signal.">> commenting on comms and checking the charge on his long gun next. At present he hasn't sighted the member of clan Kloo, who apparently had similar ideas as he did for joining this op. Scanning via his HUD, shifting to keep loose before it's time to descend.
Snogrutt is filling the role of leader, for tonight's expedition of Cartel thuggery.. at least so far as the thugs are concerned. How the independent contractors get killed is not his business.
Eschewing stealth, as is his custom, Snogrutt hefts his axe deftly into his right hand, keeping his left ready to pry open the door to allow him onto the street. It's just a quick charge across for the Gamorrean and his fellow thugs to bust down the main entrance into the run-down lobby and attack from the front. Snogrutt dislikes stealth. "aapophet ithaakivagh fevierh ghiethivoow rephiku searoothag adorh, thaa saerigiwie ghevaethie aedi oomapijyf." [Language: Gamorrean]
A three-man team on the rooftop with a pair of sharpshooters dug into the rooftops of another pair of buildings. The small matter of business had at some point become something more akin to an Ordeal; like some sort of official military operation. Soon the airspeeder lifts off and makes its departure; it is neither silent, but neither does it kick up any particular racket. By all accounts to the occupants of the run-down structure the sound of the airspeeder's arrival and departure had likely simply blurred into the standard droning sound of Nar Shaddaa. One warbling airspeeder surely sounded much like the next, in most cases.
This leaves the sharpshooters to stare at the structure or locate lost treasures. The rooftop team is faced with a lone entrance into the old apartment structure. Beyond the pitted and rusted durasteel access door resides a stairwell with a lone line blazing prominently within. It does not flicker or sputter. Its light remains consistent and strong, which only serves to throw the rest of the disrepair around it into sharp contrast.
Attichitcuk smirks charging through the nearest opening and up the stairs. His rykk blade swings down savagely missing his target with the first swing. The second is brutal and savage landing easily into the thug with a roaring laugh the wookie seems to be in his element.
With only one way inside, that made things easy enough. Amal, keeping her weapon at low ready, made for the stairs, alert as she ever was, "Moving inside," came the terse words over the shared comms, as she took the stairs on her way down to the first floor beneath the rooftop. She made sure to angle her approach so that she covered the back of the Wookiee proceeding her. Not that she had much thought for that, as it was clear, almost immediately, that as soon as her feet hit the carpet...was it carpet? Could it be mold? Of the third floor, the thugs were on them. Now, the Hutt Lord has said to take prisoners, so, Amal began to do just that. At the very least, perhaps it would mean that her dry cleaner would not be so terribly put out this time, as Amal waded in, making use of the energy arcing between the segments of the weapon to short circuit the nervous systems of the thugs, moving with care as the bodies dropped to left and right. The third was still standing, but, well, with luck not for long, "I would advise going down quietly." But when did thugs ever take ones advice?
Zena can't see Bantha poodoo at the moment. This makes it very difficult to shoot people. The reason she can't see anything is because one of the five living birds on this Force-forsaken planet has just zipped over her and left a little present on the way, obscuring the viewfinder on her rifle.
"Augh! Gross! Are you -kidding me-?!"
She spends the next few moments cleaning the gunk off her gun, swearing under her breath the whole damn time. "This is a great fragging showing, Zena. What the hell is Teela going to say? 'You couldn't shoot anyone 'cause a bird pooped on your gun? Nice excuse."
Luckily, she's done and resettled about the time that Atti busts in the door. She sees a flicker in a window and squints, pulling the trigger on her rifle and loosing a blast of ionized gas at whatever she sees moving in there. She hopes it's not her wookiee pal.
Especially since she missed. Teela is going to yell at her so bad.
Watching the porcine figure leading his charge below, then turning his attention to the target location - the movements within are studied. The krayt scale cape worn draping over his left arm and open space beyond when he leans in. No position for sniping, wise for them at least.
"Plan?" the ID10 floating near Hadrix murmurs, her cultured core-accented voice cutting through the quiet - at least in proximity.
<"Yep..."> his response gaining a sharp turn from Gripper who also watches his hand move to unlimber the 'bandolier' which pendulums out before becoming wreathed in crackling stun ion.
"I'm going to want to-"
<"Mount up."> cut off but already seating herself into the socket built into Al'Verde Kora's armor a moment before he lets himself drop off the ledge and engages his jets. Flattening himself out and cutting his thrusters so that momentum carries him through a window, cloth coverings ripping off with his momentum. Hitting the floor to roll to his feet, no word of banter offered as he looms to his full height and that motion earning of those caught within time to get clear only for one of their fellows to be caught across the chest by the massive Mandalorian's second crack of his whip, falling to the ground smoking.
Snogrutt hears the commotion kicking off. At least now honor has been satisfied, and Snogrutt can wade into battle properly. With a smile to his compatriots, he lifts his axe in mock salute before putting his weight to the door and pushing it open. The Gamorrean leads his little assault party of piggies in a trundling charge across the street. With the blaster shots going off above them, one might not even notice them.. but they aren't making any attempt at being stealthy.
Snogrutt is first, as is proper, bursting through the main entrance where he confronts a rather surprised looking thug. The surprise seems mutual as Snogrutt's first swing passes cleanly through the air, the thug howling in terror and fleeing off into the foyer, announcing the presence of the close-combat group as they begin piling into the lobby behind Snogrutt. "hi rhaefer ghevaethie wif maz ghitiety doo ghevaethie aghaaw, ghevaethie miefewood ykery janil lej if kosa ivu rhaahej thaa ghevaethie puzatiehaa.. gafoonu ghiethivoow ij gyd..." He intones, pointing at the main staircase.
There is a brief discussion amongst the Gamorreans as to exactly what KIND of sandwich they will be having, but the first shot of return fire sends them grumbling to cover as Snogrutt moves forward towards the main staircase leading up. [Language: Gamorrean]
The interior of the structure is hardly anything to write home about. Large holes in walls showcase at least some forethought to exactly such a scenario as the one that the gang is undergoing. They likely just hadn't expected it to be from the mighty Hutt Cartel itself; a rival gang, perhaps. While the stunned and unconscious bodies don't literally stack up, there's definitely forming quite the chain of unconscious forms strewn about the upper levels. Blaster fire is exchanged with those wielding ax, whip, staff, or any other tool of warfare. Attichitcuk and Snogrutt in particular suffer injuries, but it could be argued that the blaster fire that does strike them is more than likely a result of abject terror rather than any semblance of markmanship. In such close quarters the reputation of Wookiees and Gamorreans and Mandalorians tends to make large all manner of fears.
Then there's a ghostly figure in white, threading her way through side rooms and corridors. In her wake lays all manner of future guests of the Hutt Cartel. Some of this Zena will surely see through her scope, once she's adequately cleaned it.
Attichitcuk howls in pain as he is cut open a deep cut too, across the length of his abdomen. "rwarrl rwal....grarrrl wrall rwarrl! rwowoal rwarrl grarrrl wrall rwowoal woeieowl rwal rwarrl rwarrl." His first swing in rage misses the second nearly cleaves his opponent in half as they fall dead. [Language: Shyriiwook]
Amal continued her silent sweeping work. With the team already aware of where she was, she simply went about the business of doing her business. She trusted the rest of the team to do their work as she moved from room to room, leaving bodies in her way. The cleanup of *that* mess was for the second tier of enforcers who would be in to collect the thugs for questioning. For some value of questioning. For now, two more fell at the feet, a third squaring up against her.
It seems that Zena's been so used to shooting dudes in sandy places that doing it in a cityscape is a little tougher for her. She cycles her rifle, settling in with a deep breath. "Come on you Wampa loving scumbag," she mutters. "Come back in sight."
Oh look, they do.
It's almost reflexive how she pulls the trigger, the bolt of ionized gas lancing out and catching the thug in the shoulder, spinning him around and dropping him to the floor. She grins behind her helmet and works the action. "I still got it."
"Had to make an entrance." Gripper ejects from the back of the Mandalorian's armor as he goes to work. Outnumbered and technically with potential backup out of reach, Hadrix wades in - trusting in his beskar'gam, his iron skin, to preserve him when fire is returned. Several blaster bolts glancing off his plates and more spattering against the reptilian hide of his cape.
Laying about him with the whip, the big man wades in, marking downed targets in his HUD, a twitch in the corner of one eye as one of the Old Voices chimes in,
'Stun?'
One of the foe falls, clothing tattered and skin blistered where the ionized whip struck, sliding across the floor and another calling out while backing away with a considerable show of will to resist the sting of the weapon.
'Shut up.'
'We could be tearing them apart.'
'Go. Back. To. Sleep.'
At the last a snarl rips through his vocalizer, aimed internally but audible to the figures around him.
Snogrutt surges towards the stairs, blinking as a thug steps out infront of him. "apywootierh! tearh farhiva as!" he calls out, still wanting to get at least one hit before everyone is taken out. The Gamorrean is thundering forward, only having to swing with his axe to connect with the thug as he storms past. The axe cuts deep into the man's chest, sinking in right up to the spine, sending the criminal tumbling to the ground, gravely injured and slowly dying. The tug at his axe signals to the warrior that it is stuck tight, requiring some time to remove! Agh! Stupid axes!
Technically, it's a vibro-axe, and should've cleaved the thug in twain, but the Gamorrean neglected to turn it on. Either that or he preferred to use it as a normal axe. Irregardless, Snogrutt releases the axe, leaving it embedded in the thug as he continues towards the stairs. It's been awhile since his last proper brawl, and so he draws a fairly new weapon as he spots another thug looming in the distance, passing through the ruined walls. Tracking the man, Snogrutt hunkers down, flicking the blade up as he slowly draws closer to the stumbling thug. [Language: Gamorrean]
THU-WOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM. The sound of a generator powering up can be heard somewhere on the far end of the third floor of the structure. That sound seems to result in a good deal of panic among the gangsters who were in the midst of battling it out with their Cartel counterparts.
Some continue to fall under the onslaught and while others had gradually moved into position to engage anew. That sound seems to throw many of the thugs into sudden confusion, with some even dropping to the moldy floor at the mercy of their attackers. Some of them even plead to surrender.
Yet others seems to turn their attention to the northern end of the structure, as though looking death in the eye. Some of them even drop their guard entirely to stare dumbly in that northerly direction.
This was just mop up work, really, and no real challenge. Amal continued moving, clearing the floor so that they could proceed down to the next level. It was the sound of old battle machinery spinning up. Amal might well follow the ways of her people, and find weapons powered by energy, of that sort not to her tastes, but she had seen enough of war to understand them, "They're powering up some sort of heavy mounted blaster cannon, we need to clear the attack radius." And so Amal was, looking for the best place to find a defensive structure. Preferably something stronger than one of the tissue paper walls in this building. She would settle for the second floor stairwell, below what, she hoped, was the level of the weapon.
Zena frowns behind her helmet as the goons start to drop and surrender. She tilts her head slightly at the sudden noise. "The hell?" She cycles her rifle, settles back in and waits.
She has a bad feeling about this.
<"Kriff.">
Head lifting at the thrumming and there is a moment where whatever little war persists within him. One hand smashing against the side of his helmet and a barking, chuffing, sound issuing from his vocalizer when he starts to back up.
<"Gripper, ba'slan shev'la."> Strategic disappearance.
"Kriff." the seeker droid echoes the earlier comment on the circumstance before she is out the nearest window like a shot with Hadrix backpedaling right after her, thumbing a switch on his whip to disengage the ionization coils and looping it around his body while his left hand goes to his combat webbing.
Jumping backwards over fallen bodies while hurling a cylindrical explosive the moment he impacts with the window frame, bouncing and spinning off center and leaving the grenade in his wake while he tumbles for the street. The distinct HWUUMPH of the cryoban explosion going off at the same moment his anti-gravs kick in - keeping him from slamming into the ground as awkwardly as he is falling.
Snogrutt slows his movement as he hears a noise above him. Not just above him, two floors above him! He may not be the brightest pig in the pasture, but even he knows when something is going wrong above you, you should make sure it isn't above you any more! The Gamorrean spins on his heels and retreats back the way he came in. "rhaefer! rhaefer! sigh fethijad azefeh raekaa ivu lej fajyte haamoz! tearh if efifea ghevaethie rephiku rhaefer!" he hollers to his compatriots!
The Gamorreans make a beeline for the exit, huffing and puffing and squealing in terror at being smooshed! They all spill out onto the street, like drunks being thrown out of a bar, huffing and wheezing as the muscular brutes begin fighting each other as they struggle to get away from the building.
"yrieg vooth adorh!"
"etaetutov fadewaetoo adorh egheagaepo!"
"apywootierh adorh emaephosa!" [Language: Gamorrean]
Things go quiet. Save for the HWUUMPH of a cryoban grenade popping off, spreading its freezing grip throughout the third floor. It's as though a dozen or so people had felt death looming and then, suddenly, the threat of it had diminished significantly. While many were keen and swift enough to escape the third floor; some of which even hurl themselves from windows into garbage heaps below or risk injury or death with even more reckless leaps. That seems to be all the signal that waiting Cartel enforcers need to begin moving in, breaking from their positions to begin surging toward and into the structure. Little did those same enforcers know the bloodbath that had just been halted.
Those who had surrendered do at least honor that surrender. Mostly because they'd already thrown down their weapons and fallen to the mold-stricken floor. Attempting to rearm themselves and renew the fighting would more than likely just result in a swift execution. Maybe it's foolishness. Maybe it's hope. Maybe they believe that on account of their surrender whoever was attacking them would show some measure of mercy.
The Hutt - especially the Cartel - is capable of mercy, of course. At least one of the prisoners will have a wonderful mercy bestowed upon his or herself. So long as they're able to claim it.
Amal was many things. Stupid was not one of them. When she heard, first, what sounded like a grenade going off, a cryo, if she sounds of people screaming in paid was any indication, coming as it did without the flash of the smell of burning flesh with it, was any indication, and second, when she did not hear a weapon firing, she was not foolish enough to return to the third floor. And hearing the arrival of the rest of the Hutt's enforcers, she took the route of least resistance, namely departing for greener pastures and to oversee the securing of prisoners as they were brought out.
Like any good sniper, Zena is still. Deathly still. Like she's frozen in time as she waits for the next target to pop up. None do. The signal is given, the enforcers begin their sweep, and it's over. She breathes again for the first time in what feels like hours, and sits up. "That was ... anticlimactic. Though, I guess that's good."
She grabs her rifle, folding the bipod before she rises and shoulders the weapon. Her work done, she starts to head back down to street level to head back to the Cutting Edge.
Rotating himself before cutting the power to his belt with a chin-tab, Hadrix lands on his feet with a clatter of beskar hobnails scraping duracrete. Looking up at the third floor while securing the whip wrapped around him like an ammo bandolier.
<"Gripper?">
"Still alive." the droid's voice sardonic when she floats up, smacking his shoulder pauldron with one claw before re-seating herself in her socket again, shifting slightly to pull the krayt scale over her before fully settling in.
<"Good."> a simple answer to her affirmation and then he lifts off again, jets firing and hurling him into the dark of he undercity 'sky' and out of sight.
Rising himself up and dusting himself off, Snogrutt mumbles as the building doesn't collapse. "fethijad.. daevoogiw kelaelasoo ghiethivoow kooph.." he snuffles, laughing at the group as they trundle back into the building to begin policing up the prisoners and looting the dead. What? No one thought Gamorreans were above that? Snogrutt has few compunctions about going through the thug's pockets. Another Gamorrean produces a pair of pliers and begins going for shiny teeth whilst a third considers boot sizes. "aapophet ithaakivagh farhiva as atyfoo toogeatheaghaa egheagaepo, ma adorh yfafepae! tearh noosaazutie agyrh ak!"
Snogrutt retrieves his axe, grunting as he looks about. "fethijad sigh ghiethivoow toogeatheaghaa ghevaethie ghevaethie ady iefaaf.. ghiethivoow kosa py farhiva!" [Language: Gamorrean]
