Log:Mercs for Money 2: Hardcore Rat Action!

Mercs for Money 2: Hardcore Rat Action!

OOC Date: October 2, 2022
Location: Nar Shaddaa, Undercity
Participants: Obek, Frexl, The Rats, The Rat King!

There's nothing like the smell of the Undercity early in the morning. That perfect blend of runoff sewage and runoff toxic sludge might be noxious to the layman, but to the long time residents of the Smuggler's Moon it reeks of OPPORTUNITY!

Lately though, it mostly reeks of rats. Conditions have been ripe for unusual amounts of rat mating the past few months, and if something isn't done about it, the surface residents might have their precious crime interrupted by a festering plague.

Which is why there's a well-lit tent set up in the Undercity, run by a 'concerned citizens group' which is definitely legit and not a front for the moon's crime families. There are moderately helpful workers running the tent, handing out bottles of water and flashlights, as well as pointing out some of the best spots for farming rats. Already, the bins set up near the tent are starting to fill up as various hunters return with armloads and even bucketloads of the foul creatures.

"Not that I'd normally be doing side jobs like this. No way! I'm a union man, you know? Scabbin', freelancin'... uh... that sort of thing, no way! Not me. But I got laid off recently and... you know... this ain't really mercin' so much as just... huntin'."

A bored tent worker waits patiently for a Dug mercenary to finish explaining his presence, and then hands him a flashlight.

"Whatever man. Just bring the dead rats back here, put 'em in a bin, we'll issue payment."

"They're paying fifty credits for each rat." Obek says out loud. He's merely reading from the poorly crafted sign mounted to the side of the tent. His tired voice is ruined with a nasty cough. "That's twice what the Hutts pay outside of the palace." The man seems surprised with the whole situation. People this far down don't normally worry about hygiene. "And three times what I made working for a Corellian store." He reaches out for his own flashlight and bucket.

The Duros nods to the bored tent worker before moping along the city street. "You, union man." His exhausted appearance helps sell his poor health. "Why don't we work together? I can bucket whatever you kill, we can split the difference."

While the Apprentice Mercenary known as Frexl busies himself taping a flashlight to the barrel of his N'Gant-Zarvel carbine, hunters continue to come and go. Some of them only managed to bag one or two rats, while others have entire bags full of them. A few of them are even bound together, their tails entwined with other rats in a nest of blood, trash, and fecal matter.

The stuff of nightmares, for the hygienically-minded.

Judging by the state of Frexl's fingernails, it probably won't bother him too much.

Although he seems pretty adept at taping flashlights to blasters, the Dug looks a bit confused about what to do next. Sure, there's a map of the problem spots (or opportunity spots, depending on your point of view). But judging by the way he stares at the map, Frexl don't read so good.

But the day is saved by an unlikely source, one which even has his own bucket! The Dug opens his mouth, showing off his teeth. This is probably meant to be some sort of smile, but mostly just looks horrendous.

"Youze gotta bucket, you say? I mean... 'I' gotta bucket too, but it's at home... I'm usin' it for... somethin' else."

Thinking long and hard, the Dug runs one of his weird handfeet under his chin. Thinking isn't the best look on him.

"Okay! Let's team up! We'll call ourselves... uh... the Rat Killers! No... the Rat... uh... the Hardcore Rat Killers!"

Obek doesn't seem too concerned with their team name. The man nods in agreement before pointing down the street. "Let's go that way." He coughs. "I've been down here a few times before. The nests are normally away from the people." His pained speech is twice as raspy as he leads the way. "I don't want to waste all of our time hunting stragglers." He toys with the button on his flash light. The beam of light flickers rapidly against the darkened walls of nearby alleys. "Unless you've got a better idea."

Fiddling with his carbine's tape job, Frexl seems more than content to let the other guy take the lead. After all, he's taller, and brought his own bucket. A real leader of men.

"Yeah... we don't want the stragglers. Tough guys like us, goin' after the BIG DOGS! Big rats... hey! Maybe we oughta call ourselves the Big Dogs! The... Hardcore Big Dogs!"

Although his prattling is inane, the Dug moves pretty silently on his padded handfeet, and keeps his weapon up like a pro. He seems generally unbothered by the Undercity, as if it's a place he's fairly familiar with.

It doesn't take long for the telltale signs of rats to start showing up. Droppings everywhere, scratching noises, and the squeals of rats in the middle of making more rats.

This must be the place.

Obek turns the corner to a dark alley with his flashlight in hand. The beam from the torch illuminates the dreary passage. Multitudes of rats seem to pour out of every crack and crevice imaginable. They hate the bright shine.

"Are you from Malastare?" The man wheezes in years old dug. He almost heaves as he draws in a full breath of air. "I spent time there." His grasp on the language seems to prove it. "I helped load and unload cargo for awhile. They even promoted me to ship crew." [Language: Dug]

The glowing red eyes of curious rats can be seen peeking out of holes and over piles of trash. These rats seem to have basically no fear, as if they've been left to their own devices in the Undercity for far too long.

No fear at all. Nor any respect. If anything, they seem... hungry.

Reflexively, the Dug responds in the language that he grew up speaking, the one his parents still use in the house. Surprisingly, he's almost infinitely more eloquent in the Dug language than he is when speaking Basic. Go figure.

"Why yes! I am from Malastare originally, but my parents moved to the Smuggler's Moon when I was small. We still go back to the Old Planet every few years for family vacations though, check in with the old Tree Thorp. What a small Galaxy it is..."

Just when he's about to reminisce further, he catches sight of the first rat in his flashlight beam!

He pops off some shots, and they both go wide! So much for being a sharpshooter, eh?

[Language: Dug]

Obek lets the beam from his light bounce around the alley in an unstable light show. "It's only as small as you make it." He paces forward towards the horde of vermin. His lack of fear matches that of the rats as he ambles towards them. "They're pretty fast." The man remarks as he watches Frexl miss hitting any of the pests. "You're going to have to lead them a little more." He suggests before continuing with his life story.

"I haven't been back to Malastare since my accident." Maybe it's related to his apparent lung condition? "It's better than here." He says confidently. "About anywhere is better than here."

"They're sneaky little bastards..."

Taking more careful aim, Frexl gives the scurrying rat a bit more lead, and then pops it right in the torso with a well-placed shot! There's a satisfying squeal as the rat flies about two meters away and lands with a thud.

"That's more like it! Easiest fifty credits I've ever made!"

While he scans for more of the rodents, Frexl nods his head quickly. "An accident, huh? Is that what... uh..." He waves a hand in front of his face. "Is that what happened with... that whole deal there?"

"I don't know what you mean." Obek answers with a raspy laugh. His pointed teeth are on full display as he approaches the rat corpse. "It was a long time ago." He crouches to the ground with a pained groan. "And it's not a very interesting story." The red-eyed body is quickly pitched into his bucket. "One." He boasts while rising to his feet. "About one-hundred more to go."

"We're going to be rich."

Realizing that he probably just stepped in it, figuratively speaking, the Dug tries to do a quick course correct. "Oh... it's barely noticeable."

He leaves whatever the 'it' is undefined.

Another rat pops into view, and Frexl once again fails to hit it. It's not as easy as he thought killing rats with a blaster."

"Son of a... you know, I could probably do a better job whacking them with a stick!" He resets the safety on his carbine, and slides it back into the holster on his hunched back. In its place, he pulls the small baton out from his belt.

"Hold the flashlight... I'm going in!" Baton held out in front of him, Frexl rushes at the nearest group of rats!

"I bet this would be easier with one of those net launchers." Obek holds out his flashlight so that Frexl can use the guiding light to aid in the murder of many rats. "Catch them with the web and just bash them with your stick." His goofy smirk may lead the dug to believe his faith in the stick alone method won't be very successful. "Too bad those things go for thousands of credits. The people that can afford them aren't the people that can benefit from them."

Rushing in baton first, Frexl swings and misses over and over, as if he were trying to play the world's most invisible drum with only a general idea of which room it's in.

It takes a minute for him to tire himself out, and up until the last second before the fatigue sets in, he seems convinced that he's going to hit one.

Finally, panting, he watches the last rat scurry away to safety, it's shrieks sounding suspiciously like taunting laughter.

"I don't think this is going to work any better. How did those other guys get so many!?"

"If I wanted to make easy credits gathering up rats, and I had a big enough place, I would just breed them myself." Obek seems displeased with the thought. "I bet they're cheating the system. It's easier to kill them if they're already in a cage." He stumbles forward towards Frexl, tired from watching the dug swing so many times.

Putting his baton away, Frexl looks pretty thoroughly defeated. Fifty credits isn't the worst day's paycheck he's ever gotten, but it's the worst he's gotten since he deserted... er... parted ways with the New Republic Army.

"Oh well. Guess that's about it for me, then. There comes a time when a man must face reality. You know, take a good hard look in the mirror and say 'You know what? Maybe this whole being a mercenary thing just isn't for me? Maybe it's time I just hang up my blaster and wait tables or something."

There's a sniffle, barely audible, from the general direction of the trash pile that Frexl's standing on. It's probably the rats.

"Wait... what's that... do you hear that sound?"

Sure enough, there's another sound of screeching, coming from one of the abandoned pipes laying on the ground. A masssive, rusting pipe, it looks like it was supposed to be added to the sewer system a few centuries ago, but has just been collecting dust ever since. Or has it?

Pointing his carbine/flashlight combo at the pipe, Frexl warily makes his way over to it.

"Being a mercenary is tough." Obek seems to agree with Frexl. "It's dangerous too." He follows the dug towards the abandoned pipe. His quick inspection of the sewer piece is made without comment. "There's nothing wrong with helping tend the tables, but if you're wired to do something, you have to do it." The man points his flashlight at the rusted object. [Language: Dug]

"Oh gods! It's horrible!"

There, inside the abandoned sewer pipe, is the largest nest of tangled up rats that Frexl has ever seen. It might be the largest nest of tangled up rats that ANYONE has ever seen. Forget rat kings, this things a Rat Hutt.

Immediately, he begins firing into the pipe at the pathetic, mostly stationary tangle of rats, blood, fecal matter, and trash. Many of the poor creatures are already dead, and the remainder probably have been longing for the sweet release of death for some time now, and proably resorting to cannibalism in the meantime.

The Hardcore Rat Killer Big Dogs are really doing the lord's work here, more than anything.

The screams of rats mix with the screams of Frexl, and it's tough to say which is more high pitched. But after he's emptied his entire blaster clip, and the smell of roasted rat has mingled with the smell of roasted... all the other stuff they were tangled up in... Frexl takes a few steps back, looking sick.

"All yours, buddy. Good thing you brought a bucket."

Obek puts down his bucket and flashlight. He reaches into his grubby pockets to pull out a set of sterile gloves. That is, they were sterile when he first used them, a few times ago. The man slides the yellow protectors over his dirty palms before bending down to help clean up the mess of roasted rat and other mess. "I always bring a bucket." He claims, nothing support that he doesn't. "You never know when you're going to need one."