Log:Hutt Cartel: One Last Job

One Last Job

OOC Date: March 12, 2018
Location: AST Ring of Kafrene 'Outpost'
Participants: Myra Bale, Ryo Odessa, Guri, Usha as GM

Slave Week draws in all manner of patrons to Kafrene to see the best of what intergalactic slavers have to offer. A spirit of celebration in the name of slave commerce fills the complicated alley ways of the Outpost. Taking advantage of the traffic, shop owners put on their best show for tourists, offering gourmet light refreshments while guests shop their wares. Live music plays in every alley corner from buskers with exotic instruments, hoping to squeeze an extra credit chit from someone willing to part with it.

Today is the first day of festivities, which means no auctions are happening today, but instead buyers are gathering for a viewing party at the Eight Legged Lady. There they will be able to closely observe each specimen closely before placing bids on them later in the week.

A light freighter of no mean size gracefully lands into the Docking Bay. As crew works to prep its passengers to exit the shit, Cal Keleki's old raspy voice comes in through the commlink earbuds everyone was given to communicate with one another.

"Sena Parkere is noblewoman on Empress Teta that close ties with high ranking Mining Guild officials. She always travels with guards to protect her and she'll be attending the viewings today. Infiltrate her ranks and guide her to observe to the slave with the gold tooth. I'll take care of the rest from there."

Once the ramp hits the ground, out steps a tall, regal woman. Her brown hair is done up in an elegant fashion, and around her shoulders is an expensive fur collar cloak in maroon. As Cal described, an entourage of guards follow her. They're covered head to toe in black armor, their faces obscured by their dark helmets. "Teel," Sena calls to her right hand woman - a older, grey haired guard also clad in dark armor but not wearing a helmet. "Go find our Slave Week representative." To which the obedient steward replies "Yes ma'am."

"Don't let the pomp and circumstance fool you. She is no novice." Cal's tone is both reverent and pissed off at the same time. "Good luck."

"Why hellooooo darlinnnng," a little woman coos in a drawn-out, overemphasized Coruscanti accent as she comes bustling up to the entourage, her outfit one of soft pinks and whites, a prim and proper pantsuit that is less fashionable and more like something a great aunt might wear to a wedding. It does absolutely nothing to flatter her nonexistent figure, hanging off her in a manner reminiscent of a burlap sack, only pink. An oversized pink ribbon is done up around her neck in place of a tie. "Wonderful, wonderful, you must be the Lady Parkere we've been expecting, yes you must, what a delight, I hope you've enjoyed your flight, really I do," Myra chatters away, offering a dainty curtsy during which she nearly topples over to one side, grabbing onto a guard in the process to keep her balance. "Oh! Goodness me. I do apologize, I'm just frightfully sorry about that, don't eh, don't mind me, I'm just- I'm eh, well I haven't done this often, it's my first time, now that I- what am I saying, I haven't introduced myself."

Large green eyes blink rapidly as Myra stares straight at sena Parkere. "I am... Milda Twinks." Blink. Flat expression. Sudden enormous smile. "Milda Twinks! At your service, and I will be your eh, slave..." Eyes to the sky... "week representative! Yes. I'm from a heh heh. A temp agency, isn't that delightful?"

"Dude's way too intense," Ryo remarks to himself, lighting a pink-colored tabacc stick and taking a few choice puffs off the end of it. The Festian takes a deep breath and lets his wrist hang limply as he sashays his way toward Sena and her group of mercs. "Maknanmos Ubatranx IX, charmed I'm shoah," Ryo drawls, affecting a Southern Corellian accent. A look to Myra and the man turns up his nose. "A simply dreadful proposition these days; findin' any sorta good guides around here. Though, a woman of your impeccable taste clearly has an eye for help," Ryo drawls, looking the woman over along with her cadre of protection. "I hope you don't mind if I attach myself to your lil' gaggle. I'm afraid my mercenaries have all come down with a case of the Corellian Shakes. Simply dreadful; though I'm sure I don't have to tell you that."

Guri's presence is one of optics rather than any real interest for the assassin's final slice of revenge. The final gift from the Cartel for a curiously long lifetime of performance is one that the artificial assassin would help deliver indirectly and in doing so continue to solidify the overcurrent of friendship her prince wishes to reinforce. Foundations needed to be built one brick after another, after all.

Meandering in serpentine patterns about the dock, Guri's steps are languid with all the lazy aloofness of someone with entirely too many credits and no desire to spend them: at least until someone properly whets her appetite for the flesh on offer. She has selected an ashen hued, calf-skin suit for the event, two-toned with a slightly lighter set of cuffs about her upper-arms and a drape that falls nearly to the ground at her fore and down her rump to emphasize her naturally melodic sashay. Her golden-hued frock has been carefully braided in Coruscanti style to keep it from fluttering about as she moves as a liquid might between far less agile patrons milling about.

When the ship arrives, Guri's baby-blues slip away from the vendor that is attempting to gather her attention to surreptitiously eye the entourage and its regal leader.

"Organics," Guri mutters under her breath before slipping back in to the crowd to close the distance between herself and the noblewoman.

Both Lady Parkere and Teel look at each other and break into a fit of laughter when the absurd pink lady introduces herself, each one of them clutching their bellies as if its too much to bear. "Milda? That's honestly a quite ridiculous name," the noblelady grins, not believing that's Myra's name for a second as she delicately pulls on a pair of silk gloves. "Now I don't know if the temp agency forced that upon you, or if you're simply trying to rebrand yourself, but sure. We can call you Milda."

For whatever strange reason, Sena believes Ryo though. It's likely the tabacc stick. Only a man named Maknamos Ubtranx IX could be smoking a pink tabacc stick. "Yes, well slave week has certainly been much better staffed in the past," Sena looks Myra up and down in distaste before turning back to Ryo, "By all means sir, join our party. The more the merrier I think. What sort of labor are you looking to purchase this week?"

Finishing with her gloves, Sena then turns to Myra expectantly and when nothing more comes out of the small lady, she frowns, "Milda, are you alive in that small head of yours? We've had a very long journey here and we're famished. In past years, we were greeted with refreshments. Is there a place to /eat/ on this dirty little outpost or are you too new to know where that is too?" From behind Sena, Teel presses her lips together looking between her ladyship and the Slave Week guide.

"Somewhere to eat?" Myra replies, blinking her large, pretty green eyes at the other two women, the eyes which are her best feature, despite clashing with the very pink outfit she's wearing. "Why of course my dears, we on Kafrene would never expect for you to go without refreshment, though I am quite shocked to hear that your staff did not provide with such provisions on your trip over!" She tsks at the nearest guard, turning on the ball of a small foot and heading away from the landing area. "Right this way, if you please, and I do hope that you do please, for it is ever so much my desire to please," she says while beaming a smile around at the others. "The Gas Pipe Pub is this way, I do believe, and I do love a good pub, don't you, mister Maknanmos? I know I always have, it's just quite delightful and down-to-the-ground, it really sticks to your ribs," she chirps without giving him time to interject. It is hard to believe anything sticks to Myra's ribs.

"Oh, honey; you are divine," Ryo says, fawning over Sena as he falls in line with her group. "Well, don't tell anyone, but the Corellian deep-sea oil business is built on the backs of undocumented and similarly unliberated workers," Ryo admits to Sena, as if he's sharing a naughty little secret with her. "I own a dozen riiigs in the southern hemisphere and, sweetheart, when I say business is boomin', I mean business is /boomin'/. I can hardly keep them staffed, the way things are growin'."

"Miss Twinks, I believe you just read my mind. But do be a dear and don't tell everybody what else you saw in there," Ryo says, an impish little grin appearing on his features as he playfully bats the woman's arm.

Guri drifts in the entourage's wake, surreptitiously slipping about in an idle arc that a serpent might carve through the grass. She keeps an eye on the motley pair as she adopts a supervisory role. The slender man's rendition of an oil tycoon manages to eek a gentle tilt of the droid's head and a specter of a smile curls just the edges of her lips.

"My, I nearly believed you for a moment, Ryo," Guri muses in her sugar-dipped alto, purring encouragement across the comms for the ambitious brigand. "Perhaps I should move ahead and have a discussion with the barkeep regarding tainted food before your arrival or are one of you two going to impress me with your sleight of hand?"

As rich ladies are want to do, Ryo's sweet words taste wonderful to Sena's ears. She puffs her fur collar up more, feeling flattered. "Oh sir, I'm no fool. Any thriving business in the galaxy is bound to have some sort of cheap labor supporting it. I mean the mining industry is rife with slaves, but it provides raw materials at a cheap price and what's good for the buyer is good for us. For myself, I'm actually looking for more help around my estate. Tell me Mr. Ubatranx, what species do you find most suited for house work?" Myra's chirp of a voice is grating however, and Lady Sena frowns at her steward, talking about the pink woman as if she weren't even there. "Teel, will you please. Shut. Her. Up."

Nodding back to her lady, grey-haired Teel turns around to Myra, giving her a subtle sigh. "Please don't mind her. She's not like this all the time. Only when she's hungry." There's an apologetic shrug when she offers a sympathetic smile to the poor woman. It makes the wrinkled corners of her eyes crinkle further.

The group makes their way to the pub, passing Guri with very little notice about the human perfection tailing them. As expected on Slave Week, the pub is PACKED with people, and the tired Rodian host looks to Myra asking, "Do you have a reservation?"

"Oh, I don't mind at /awl,/" Myra assures Teel with the largest smile humanly possible for her face to produce. "My mother was absolutely dreadful when it came to the 'hang-ger', as I've heard it called," the little woman titters pleasantly, leading along towards the pub with quick steps due to her short legs, platinum blonde hair bouncing with wild abandon around her ears. "Although I can't help but notice that she's not asking /me/ about slaves, which is understandable given the absolute balderdash I was spewing when I met up with your august personages, so in a way, it's understandable. I'm not offended by it in the slightest, really I'm not," she rambles, rounding a corner and there's the pub, and there's the Rodian accosting her with his nasal tones.

"Why, of /course/ we do," Myra answers the question with a nervous edge to her smile, giving a quick glance back at the others and then hurrying forward to converse with the host in more hushed tones. "Look, my name is Milda Twinks, and these women are /very/ important food critics, and they will write the most dreadful things about this place in their publication, er, Grub... Hub, if you don't give us a table snipsnap!" Tiny fingers snap for emphasis, both hands in rapid succession.

"Well, I'm an aesthetic at heart, so I prefer the prettier races be seen around my home. Zeltrons, Hapans, Twi'leks, so on and so forth," Ryo explains to his new friend. In another life, Ryo would've tricked this woman into marrying him and fleeced her for everything she had. But tonight, his sights are set on someone else. The beautiful Teel. For a moment, he looks over at Guri before he cuts his eyes to the refresher. Then he's approaching Teel and leaning over to whisper all kinds of sugary sweet nothings into her ear. Surely, the hardened mercenary has a few things she needs to get off of her chest in private.

Assuming she'll decide to accompany him, he'll swish his way off to the refresher, a very /loud/ confidence in his walk.

The robotic assassin is a shade in the crowd, somehow cleaving to the shadows as a gizka scavenging the conduits of a ship for plastic, multicolored vittles. When those magnetic features and exquisite figure draw the attention of an onlooker, their second look finds only the spectre of the ideal as if they'd seen a figment of their imagination in the corner of their eye and looking directly at it had dispelled the illusion. "Why are you not toying with one that has a helmet?" Guri ponders in to the comm as she slips forward, trying to find a surreptitious way in to the building as Ryo's glance whispers his intent through his micro-expression. Lips pressing flat, she does her best to concoct a plan.

The bug-eyed alien host looks blankly back at Myra for a minute. He's tired and he's already had to accomodate two other entitled parties of rich folk and by the time they've arrived he's kind of had it. "If you have no reservations, the wait time is an hour," the Rodian replies dryly. "I can put your name down Milda and you can wait at the bar."

"Well good for you. You're doing fine, I'll buffer best I can," Teel offers warmly before Maknanamos catches her attention. Blinking whilst he whispers something in her ear, a sly smile spreads across her aged face and she looks the man up and down. "How old are you?" She asks this of Ryo as she starts walking toward the refresher. Noticing this, a fellow guard (Guard A) says to the others, "Good idea. I'm gunna go take a leak." And now he too is following Ryo and Teel to relieve himself.

Unfortunately for Myra, the ever odious Sena overhears the host and says with disbelief, "One hour! Milda, this is unaccepable, we simply do not have that kind of time. /Why/ didn't you get us a reservation in advance?" Uninterested in hearing the incompetent pink woman's excuses, she simply demands, "We may as well have a drink here before moving on to the viewing. Go fetch two Corellian whiskeys for myself and Mr. Ubatranx here. Can you do that or do you need me to write instructions down for you?

Myra stares at Sena with unblinking eyes for a few long seconds, the vacant look of a empty-headed bimbo, before finally breaking back into a wide, luminescent simper that positively glows in the neon light. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Madam Parkere, really I am, I don't know what /ever/ has gotten into me, really I don't. It's completely unacceptable, and I will alert my supervisors of my need for IMMEDIATE and thorough retraining when this session concludes, that much I can promise you. Corellian whiskey you desire, and Corellian whiskey you shall have." With that said, she nips off towards the bar, bumping up against it before clambering onto the metal footrest while dainty hands cling tight to the countertop. "BARTENDER, I need to order two Corellian whiskeys, thank you ever so kindly, and if you could give me one top shelf and one well, that would be an absolute /treat./"

"Oh, honey; I'm old enough to know better, but too young to care," he offers with a playful grin, reaching over to swat lightly at her arm as he leads her (and the tag-along) toward the refresher.

Once he's inside, Ryo will take a moment to look around and make sure that it's empty before he approaches one of the mirrors. Incapable of spotting a mirror and not looking at himself Ryo gazes upon his masterfully-crafted visage with abject vanity. A hand is run back through his hair in an attempt to style it in that 'devil may care', lack of style way that he prefers.

"Have fun, Ryo," Guri purrs over the comms as fate smiles with a row of nexu teeth, replacing the overly ego inflated man's miscalculated gesture with a ripple that Guri can take advantage of. Stalking after the relief seeking guard, she glides about the crowd with muted intent, as if her very will could somehow twinge the silvery strands of circumstance against her and alert the guard to her presence. Taking care to keep track of the comings and goings of those gendered aliens choosing to identify themselves as male, she lingers for several heartbeats at the portal to the male refresher, her back pressed against the wall as if waiting for someone before pivoting inside through the smallest door opening she can manage.

As for Ryo's predicament, Guri is hardly one to deprive a man of the excitement that comes with a mature woman's experience. With any luck, the trip to the slave auction will not have made the seasoned guard too ripe underneath all that armor.

"And water for my guards!" Sena calls after Myra, referring to her guards like horses that need to be watered. Her ladyship is already busy chatting up another patron while she waits. Meanwhile, the bartender nods in acknowledgement to the small woman. "You got it toots." And in no time, he serves her her order on a tray to deliver back.

Teel catches the tail end of Ryo's quick grooming session. An amused smile still on her face, the silver fox locks the refersher door behind her and leans on it with her arms crossed, waiting for the gambler to finish. "What do you think you were going to do with me in here?" her voice is deep, seductive with years of experience.

Doing the little pee dance, Guard A makes his way into the refresher, pulling his helmet off to reveal the orange scaly skin of his Nikto face. He sighs, undoing his pants to do his business because I'm taking creative license and assuming that's how Nikto go. But he suddenly senses Guri's presence over his shoulder and turns around to throw a punch in panic. Only, he catches the glimpse of the engineered perfection of her face at the last second, causing his aim to be completely off. "Oh my bad ...," he apologizes first and then gives Guri a slight smile and wink, while his pants are still undone, "What's up?"

"Right then," Myra mumbles to herself, blowing her bangs back with a poof of air and gathering up the tray, rolling her shoulders back and spreading a smile across her face as she prepares to return to Sena. When she does, she turns the tray carefully to angle the top shelf whiskey towards the posh lady. "There you are, a thousand apologies for the misunderstanding, really, this is all my fault, I'm absolutely devastated to have spoiled your visit, it's the least I can do, and if there's anything else, just name it."

"Teel, my love...I'm so thankful I could pull you away," Ryo begins turning dramatically to face his new girlfriend. "I...I don't know how to say this," he says, theatrically raising a hand to his forehead. "The Corellian deep-sea oil business isn't quite so booming as I let on and well, I'm trying to break into the minerals business. Unfortunately...well...your current employer is in the way..." he trails off, making eyes at the woman. "And while I feel very much that this love between you and I could blossom, I just don't have the heart to fall for the woman who's protecting my new rival."

Turning back around, Ryo's hand moves the to blaster tucked into his waistband. "If only...if only there were a way we could get Sena out of the picture.../then/ we'd be free to do...all /sorts/ of things." He bites his bottom lip and looks the older woman over, brows furrowing a bit as he does so.

"I have some contacts ready to /take care/ of her, but I need to know that you'll go along with it..." he says, sounding like a regular star-crossed lover. That safety's still clicked off, though.

Guri's optical sensors sense the twitch of the alien's musculature even before he realizes his hippocampus is causing him to lash out in reflexive fear for the unknown. The guard's training slants him towards fight and abandons flight and the assassin rewards his audacity with a hypnotic smile that very nearly manages to beat back the grimy shadows clinging to the walls. Her step forward is casually slinky and despite the moment of violence just moments before she naturally waggles her hips with a mesmerizing rhythm as if ensorcelling a venomous snake.

"You're bad indeed," Guri tilts her head just so, peering out from underneath her brow before her biofiber flesh uncoils with its full ferocity. Her face contorts in to a lioness' snarl as her right arm rushes for the man's throat, seeking to cut off his oxygen supply and tear him to the ground.

"Where the hell are you guys?" Cal Keleki's raspy voice comes in through the ear comms. His voice is strangely apprehensive for someone with a seasoned track record of kills. "I'm telling you, if she's not onto you now, she's going to be onto you guys /soon/. Screw the viewing, I'm coming to you guys. Myra, what's your location? If you can herd them into a quieter space, then that would be best."

Despite Myra's ever so eloquent and sincerest apologies, Sena gives very little acknowledgement to the woman who has just served her drinks. She takes her top shelf whiskey and turns back to her conversation without so much as a wink. That's right Cal, she's totally onto them for sure. Her guards, however, are good lads, taking the waters from Myra with tired 'thank yous'.

Eyes following, Ryo's hand to his blaster, Teel raises her brows at his proposition almost in disbelief to what he's saying. Stepping closer to the man, she glances at his lips with consideration. Her aged voice whispers, "I'm sorry Ubatanx, but I can't let you do that to my lady." And in one swift movement, she pulls out her blast and pistol whips the gambler hard on the head.

Guard A gasps as Guri goes for his throat. His head goes dizzy for a second as he coughs and tries to catch his breath. But without fully recovering, he already lashes back at the droid, yanking her by her beautiful blonde locks to slam her face against a wall.

"I know the GAS PIPE PUB might not be the height of sophistication but at least they have a decent selection of fine lickoors," Myra replies to both their assassin compatriot and Sena at the same time, giving the other woman a toothy smile. She doesn't know it but right now her associates are blowing this whole operation straight to hell. "I do love a strong drink, really I do," she confers with a wink, taking Ryo's drink for herself and shooting it back in a single gulp, hissing her breath out through her teeth as the burn hits. Bottom shelf! Something catches the corner of her eye, and her smile shifts character slightly as she points a thin finger towards a side-room with a mechanical nerf in it. "Why don't we head in there to wait? The... I'm actually not quite sure what it is, but the thing there, em," and here she appeals to a poster on the wall, "the mechanical nerf! It's not open until later, so we'll have some peace and quiet, doesn't that sound marvelous? Let's just... pop off over there, then, why don't we? I'm sure the others will be back soon." As she leads the way, she scoops up another drink off of someone's table and knocks that back as well.

"Oh, shrav-" Ryo begins before he catches a pistol grip to the top of his head. And lo, the gambler hits the ground, exiting the scene preemptively.

Crunch! Guri's head careens with the tile, denting in the wall and spidering the porcelain and glazed mixture out from the impact point. The woman's face isn't mired in pain when her keen eyes scrutinize the Nikto. Instead, it's a wild excitement that dances along the blue-speckled iris coupled with a wolfish grin. There's blood, pooling at a wound on her scalp that contrasts sharply with her golden halo of hair, but it is already starting to halt its flow.

"Just a moment," Guri says over the comms, calm and steady despite the violence being carried out within the refresher. Returning the favor, she clutches the Nikto's arm at the base and drags him along for the ride to allow him to sample the same sensation she is currently experiencing.

Sena continues to treat Myra like she's a whisp of air. Inconsequential and unimportant. However the words 'peace and quiet' seem to catch her hearing, and immediately she pauses her conversation to say, "Well goodness gracious Twinks! Why didn't you say sooner?" She follows the moving pile of pink cloth to the calmer area, and the other guards follow along with her.

As Ryo goes down, Teel looks down upon him with a sigh. "That didn't take much," the silver fox says to herself and then makes her way over to the sink to wash her hands. Inspecting herself in the mirror, much like her victim, she sighs at the wrinkles on her face. "When did I get so old." And then she makes her way to the door to unlock it.

Meanwhile, Guard A goes down with the droid, his own scaly skull smashing against the door of a stall. He groans, falling back from the impact. The attack certainly threw him for when he gets back up his stance is unsure and his eyes seem dizzy and uncertain where to look. With uncontrolled movement, he sloppily lunges for Guri, attempting to pin her down.

It is then a man walks through the door, pulling off his hood to reveal Cal Keleki. A man who has visibly lived a long life. If you cut a tree and count the rings, you can see how long that tree has lived. If you count the scars on Cal's face alone, you only get part of the story.

Brutal burn marks grace half his face. Across his head are patches of scarred skin, indicating places where hair used grow. One of his eyes is covered with an eye patch, hiding the remnants of the eye that was once there. His teeth are yellowed an stained and a few are missing, just like his left ring finger. And yet here he stands with a solid dignity that can only be earned after living through some shit.

He scans the room, spotting Myra, Sena, and the guards. With a glare on his face, he says through the comms right at her, "Myra. /Where/ is Sena?"

"Peace and quiet, /RIGHT HERE,/ darling," Myra coos to Sena as she shows the woman in to where the mechanical nerf is waiting, glancing towards the door where Cal is making his rude demands with a wide-eyed spread of her hands as the others precede her into the space, mouth twisting down like 'WAAAAT', nose crinkling with irritation. It's been a long night. The expression is immediately slapped over with the customary gratuitous smile as she turns to follow into the nerf room, whispering to herself, "If this is a fake Sena I am going to shoot them and then my~sellllf~," ending in a sing-song note.

And Guri punishes the alien for his haphazard and unsteady maneuver with preternatural reflexes. Bounding off of coiled biofibers, her knee cracks in to the man's forehead as if she were cast from durasteel rather than pliant, beguiling clone-skin and synthetic flesh. Gravity is allowed to have its way and the droid looms over her latest victim somehow satisfied despite the crimson smear marring her otherwise flawless features.

Pivoting to take a moment to tend to herself in the mirror, Guri does her best to clean up the wound with the contents of a tiny medpac more in an effort to remove the garish streak than try to close the skin: it was already starting to knit itself together at an obscenely fast rate.

"Ryo?" Guri quests over the comm, "sounds like we have a problem." Glancing down at the Nikto, she frowns. It was probably still worth the time to disguise herself even if the whole thing is a ruse.

The door to the women's refersher opens and out steps Teel with newly washed hands, ready to join the group but stops suddenly upon seeing Cal at the door. Likewise, the aged assassin spots the aged steward, and the two pause to stare at each other a second, their faces communicating a heavy mix of hurt, regret, and raging resentment.

The hutt assassin snaps out of his stupor and with pained eyes points his blaster right at Teel. To which, the woman immediately yells across the pub at Sena, "TEEL!"

The regal lady and her guards jump to action upon hearing the older woman's call. With a silk gloved hand, she retrieves out a smoke bomb from her cloak, pulls the pin and rolls it into the main area of the pub. Then turning to Myra, shrugs with a smile, "Sorry Myra Bale." And

And then there's smoke, billowing and assaulting Guri's olfactory glands with its acrid odor. Filtering through different light spectrums, it takes comparatively little effort for her to pierce through the artificial gloom and spy those fleeing with the soon-to-be-retired-one-way-or-another assassin with the roughly hewn face. Quickly, she discards the safety of her companions and rockets as quickly as her legs can carry her.

Screams ensue when the smoke bomb goes off. The fumes choke and blind patrons, causing them to trample all over each other as they pour out of the exits. Windows are yanked open to allow more ways for the pub to air out. As Guri has to dodge a good many folk in order to get out successfuly, and by the time she does the real Sena, the real Teel, and their group have turned the corner back toward the Docking Bay.

Kafrene's maze of alleyways are crowded, so losing the rest of the Cartel folk isn't so very difficult. The group manages to make it back to their ship and already it's rising to the air in a less graceful fashion than as it landed.

At the end of the loading ramp, which is still open as they start flying away, stands Sena in her grey haired glory. Worse for the wear, Cal is knelt at her feet, his hands bound whilst the regal Teel looks down at him. Blaster in hand, Sena mouths something before shooting the old assassin right in the forehead. He falls over with a slump, years of good kills behind him, and the silver fox then kicks him off the ramp. From forty feel in the air, Cal's dead body lands on the hard ground with a cold smack.

"SEND THAT TO YOUR LORD. AND TELL HIM IT'S FROM SENA," she yells in her voice deep with experience. The ramp closes, and the ship flies away.

When it quickly becomes apparent that even her nearly supernatural efforts won't be enough, Guri comes to a halt and merely peers at the tableau with vague interest. "That was fun." Pivoting on the ball of her foot, she wanders back to make sure that Myra is alive and to figure out what happened to Ryo.