Log:Resistance: Warehouse Snatch

Warehouse Snatch

OOC Date: October 21, 2019
Location: Teta
Participants: The Resistance: Aryn Cole, Elrych Cometburn, Nova Korrel, Merek, and Callax Dalso The Irregulars: Rial Het and Dyannah Nerus Special Guest: Zhu Yan

Coddicus Droids, Core District, Teta

This is a long open room with polished white marble floors and rows after rows of different types of droids. There are larger displays with manufacturer holographic advertisements hovering over the droids for sale here and the shoppers mill about between the various displays while Droid Employees move with them answering questions and helping them with their purchases.

The decor of the store is very clean and bright, with a soft music playing in the background mixing in with the advertisements speaking in soft and pleasing Basic tones.

The group that had volunteered to work this 'job' had been given instructions to come to Teta of their own accord as to avoid suspicion. It wasn't hard to get Cargo for the core world, especially if it was anything of worth in the art and culture circles. They were to meet, each given their own separate code word to use at the counter. The man at the counter, who wasn't a Droid and who likely was a relative of the aforementioned Coddicus himself was a wispy sort of fellow with Tetan Research Glasses and a really mousy voice. Soft spoken and kind. When prompted with the right code phrase they'd be lead into the back room where a meeting area was and seated there was Elrych in all his running shoes as sunglasses glory. One earbud in his ear, plugged into a datapad that sat atop the table. At least one of his feet was up on the table as well. He waits for everyone to arrive

"Alright. Here's the deal. There's a warehouse Occupied by Kavil, we think he's paying off some local bureaucrat to look the other way while he operates some operation out of there. We need that warehouse space for our needs." He presses a button on the Datapad and a hologram of the warehouse in one of the less regal districts of the City Planet shows pops up from the emitter and starts to spin. "So, what we need to do. Someone needs to go and buy that foreclosed property. Step two, we need to go to the Locals and get them to help use remove that 'unwanted' element from our warehouse, keep an eye out for that pay off that Kavil might have. He could trip us up or we might have to pay him off. I've set up a shell corporation that supposedly deals in art exports and imports as a cover for your reason for needing the warehouse. Money is accessible via our normal intel accounts." It zooms in on the warehouse, "If we are able to convince the local authorities to help us clear this place out, well... we might have a fight on our hands but at least it'll be sanctioned. There's a few entrances. One in front, one in back behind an alley and one on the roof. We're not sure how many hostiles are inside. Any suggestions or questions?"

"This is sounding more like a dedicated operation rather than a simple, in-and-out mission," Nova Korell says, taking a seat, conspicuous in her gray night-camo combat armor. "How long do we have to work? Do we have a plan to develop intel on what's inside?"

Aryn remains quiet, standing off to one side with one hand resting upon her tall obsidian spear. Her other hand hooks to the belt she wears with an old set of Ubese armor. Her helmet was kept on, and its visor was on as well with a small horizontal light that moved up and down indicating it had a scanner and optics. The armor itself was intricate, with dark plates, a long coat, and a all encompassing cape that was draped over her shoulders.

Rial Het sits at the secretive table rather comfortably. Not bothering to conceal a strong Talusian lilt in the present company, he ventures, "If'n we can locate the owner, I should be able to convince them of our sincerity as to th' purchase without much trouble. How deep do the pockets run on this operation?"

"Who will you be using for your front, to buy the property?" The Zeltron asks from her seat behind Nova. "Rial would be good at running that. Or perhaps Dr. Cole? Or I could do it."

As for Callax, for once the pale pilot is not making an active spectacle of himself; he stands simply off to one side, clad in a fully sealed, jet-equipped suit of powered armor, dark purple plates gleaming dully from his place in the corner of the room. He is, as another first, content to keep his mouth shut and be...well. Heavy support, as it were.

"'Buy'?" That was Zhu Yan... oh god what was Zhu Yan doing here? Who let this clown in? Well, someone had remembered his time as The Contractor and as such he was being contracted. Because the best person to deal with smugglers was, lo and behold, a smuggler. And Yan was the best, he said so himself. Sipping from a nectar-like liquid contained in the galaxy's most beat up tiny water bottle, he shivered and put it away. It was medicinal. "Okay if that's how you wanna do it, I mean, I'd rather just sweep in and take out anyone who might have a deed but hey, that's noisy." Was he disguised? No. He was Zhu Yan, and it wouldn't be out of place for him to be here.

Merek has on his black longcoat while he seems to have changed up his hair to blonde, making a way about to that shop, looking into things. He finds a place to settle in and listen with a nod also.

Elrych looks to Nova, "If we do it right it shouldn't take more than the day." Then a turn in his attention to Dyannah and Rial. "Funds are... shouldn't be an issue. As I said the property had been foreclosed on and is simply being occupied while most of whoever looks away. If you can find out who they're paying off we might not even need to buy it. Just be the man with the bigger pockets." He looks to Yan, "Whether we buy it or not, we need to secure our 'ownership' either in the eyes of the local authority or in the eyes of the criminal element here. Either we buy or we bribe or well... Like Yan said." The Jedi clears his throat. "I leave that choice up to you, Mr. Het and Captain Nerus. Regardless Kavil's men likely won't leave without a fight and that's what the rest of you can do in the meantime. Set up some surveillance on the area and see if we can find out more about the armaments and numbers inside." Elrych stands, "I'll head out with Captain Nerus and Mr. Het in case they need a little... mystic encouragement, yeah?"

From an alley at one side of the target warehouse, crouched on a fire escape, Nova lowers her macrobinoculars and taps her com bead. <Variable, this is Knife. I make 5 warblers on the roof and 12 in the coop. Look dozy, not flighty. Not much traffic. Will continue birdwatching.>

That having been said, she slips from the fire escape and moves to another vantage point. It's several hours and four more bi-hourly reports later that she notices a change. <Variable, Knife. Warblers are flighty. Repeat: Warblers are flighty. Advise caution. Awaiting further instructions.>

Rial Het has concocted a cover identity, and needless details regarding the nature of the antiquities & art trade their imaginary organization will be dealing in, and just why that particular foreclosed property in the sketchy part of Teta is so suitable.. but very little turns out to be needed. The rogue seems almost disappointed when notaries, stamps, and signatures are promptly appended. "...Oh. Very good, then," he notes, anti-climactic. A cup of caf on the way back, into which he laments briefly, "Waste of bloody time cooking up that Tetan accent. Almost like the bastards weren't even *trying* to be officious and obstructive." Once enough time had passed to allow the band time to (theoretically) go to their property and find it occupied, he mutters, "I'll tell you who will be needlessly officious and obstructive: the bloody security forces."

Up he goes and power walks to the police precinct. And oh, the story he spins. Every skeptical question from the constables is answered with a precise response, until onlookers might be forgiven for thinking they really DO have a shipment of newly discovered pre-Republic statuary coming in which this band of squatting miscreants threatens, and the Dean of the Tetan Antiquities Bureau might really be Rial's uncle.

Aryn moves out with the strike team, and while her observation skills are not at their best wearing this get-up, she does look like she's prepared for a conflict. She awaits their team leader's word to move in, or an update on their situation before they go poke the insides of some bad guys. Aryn casually leans on her spear in the meantime.

By far her least favorite thing to do at any time or place is to play someone's arm candy. Decorative she may be but it bores the living hell out of her to play on that. Dyannah accompanies Rial who lays it on thick, she helping him to add trowel fulls of that thickness by letting everyone think that she is the way he spends his excess wealth. They make it through the offices without spiking any alarms that she is aware of though she wonders who will be following their transactions. Caf on the way is her only consolation.

"At this point, I don't mind being bloody and I will add officious to it, if necessary," she mutters to Rial in answer to his grumbling.

Numbered among the strike team, Callax does stand ready in his armor, half-hidden in his sword cloak and his face hidden away behind the barbute visor of its helm. << Having a hard time tracking those targets, >> he says in a low tone over the comms circuit, as if perhaps someone might be nearby to hear him despite the soundproofed nature of the helm. << Give me a moment to reset the optics, and I shall be ready. >> He toggles the reset with the tip of his tongue, then - but then also smacks the side of his head with an armored fist to be sure.

Can't be too careful, after all.

"Yeah that's sithspit, I've never heard a number so ridiculous." Yan, in his ineffable wisdom, had mixed in incredulity and apathy during his haggling to assist the Resistance agent, because when you want to highlight something is stupid, you condescend. CONDESCEND. "We'll give you half that, and I'll buy you some caf once your shift is done. Fair? Fair." Oh, and you offer a bribe to the peasants. Job done. Moving out of earshot from prying eyes... ears? Ears, get your metaphors together. Moving out of earshot, Yan asked his assembled Resistance compatriots, "So... what, how many credits do we have left over? A lot? Should be a lot. Rule one of spending someone else's money: Pocket the leftovers, and then tell them we spent it all." Yan was grinning like a kid who'd used this exact trick on his mother so he had candy money after buying milk. "That's how you fund your strip club visits." Pause. "OR use it for moral reasons, whatever, it ain't my money." Upon reaching the gang and the security present, Yan voiced his ideas. "Come on, we're now property owners, let's lodge a formal complaint about these..." oh there went the tall fella. "...squatters. Right."

Merek makes his way with the strike team after assisting with things, checking to look to the team while the longcoat is adjusted about him, then he draws an F-11D from the belt of his, so that he can check the sight to use it for location of the people. <<Confirming,>> he says then to the team.

The Bluffing Trio are greeted by a mustache... and aviators... and a polo shirt with his name stitched into it. LT. Ack Ack McJak, tall and skinny with a crew cut. Real Tacti-cool aura about him. He chews gum loudly and leans against the desk. He was almost too quick to take over from the dispatch receptionist whom was listening to their story before hand. "Yeah... ah... looks like everything's in order here. So, ha... whatchya guna do? I can bring a few patrol-men down there with ya and get things sorted, ya know. Right away, don'chya'know." There is some agreement made. "Wait here... I'll be right back." He moves to the back area and whispers, for a while with three uniformed men who look back up and over towards Yan, Dyannah, El, who's just been along for the ride, and Rial. They join Lt McJak and come around the Corner... "Alright... let's go knock on the door, mkay."

As Nova had put it before the group of hostiles seem to be a bit more on edge towards the late afternoon and evening once our Quartet of clandestine agents along with the local help start to roll up towards the Warehouse.

"M'kay. You lot stay here. I'll go knock on the door..." The Three officers stay behind El, Dya, Rial, and Yan while LT. McJak heads down towards the door. There's a knock there and someone opens the door. It's a big looking fellow. He looks to the LT, then over to the group, then back to the officer. They seems to talk for a moment, the Officer nodding his head. Suspense.

Elrych on the other hand has turned back towards the three officers and is looking them over before his attention returns to the others. "Something don't feel right." He bites his bottom lip.

The compact mics Nova planted on several of those cargo doors are paying off. She blinks, then gets on the horn again. <Variable, this is Knife. Lawbirds are dirty. Repeat: Lawbirds are /dirty/! Abandoning birdwatching, moving into position to cover you.>

She leaves her post in the shelter of a HVAC unit shed on a rooftop, taking a fire escape to the ground. Taking cover in an alleyway across the street, she watches the warehouse, carbine ready for action.

Aryn can see the guards, the Lt, and their entourage of companions. An innate sense at the back of her mind nudges her into believing that something is off; something is wrong. For the first time, Aryn speaks through the helmet's encrypted comm. <<"Something is off here; something isn't right. Be alert everyone..">> /What/ was off? Aryn felt uneasy about their help. Her hand tightens around the spear, the leather gloves ticking from the friction, and she appends it from the ground to prepare for the conflict that would likely ensue. Uncertainty filled her senses, but she pushed that away and tried to just center herself on the moment. Wait for it..

Rial Het exhales tersely. "Well isn't that just *typical*," he mutters at the overheard conversation and the report from their ally on overwatch. Feigning a smile and whispering into Dyannah's ear with a rakish wink, "S'gone bad, be ready for shooting, these lads are dirty." As the Lieutenant turns back to them, Rial is remarking to one of the other officers, "We've a shipment due any minute, can we hurry this up, perchance?"

Bored and impatient come easily to Dyannah this afternoon. Hiding her unaccountable nervousness takes more of an effort. Arm linked through Rial's, it is all she can do to not keep looking behind her. She shifts her weight, the high heels she wears making havoc with her calves and the balls of her feet - too much ship time in her lace up steel toed boots make her pay the price of playing 'the high roller's moll'.

"Never again. I swear on the Goddess and all of her lesser helpers. Never...er, what?" She pats her handbag, large, stylish and carrying a blaster. "Do you say so?" She whispers leaning and pretending to whisper coquettishly back into his ear.

When it is clear that there is about to be knavery about, Callax keys the comms. << This is Dalso, >> he says in his crisp, noble Core accent, << Providing distraction. >> And so does he touch a few controls on one gauntlet - through the scanlined tableau of the evening, made bright with light-sensitive optics and overlaid with humanoid blobs of color provided by the thermal tacs, Callax's onboard computer swiftly projects a course from his position to the roof, and then...

...off he goes, launching skyward, like a violet torch in the night, his sword-cloak aflutter, held aloft by twin tongues of alcohol-blue flame. In a glorious parabola does he travel, preparing to draw his pistol in its quick-drawing rig - and then, as he does so, a flanged piece of armor on his gun hand barely brushes the tiny steering roller nestled among the buttons there, and hurtles, suddenly and with terrifying force, over the roof, past the guards, and into a great stack of cargo boxes which collapse in a pyramid of tottering plastoid and a fountain of packing peanuts. There goes the noble scion of House Dalso of the noble Senex-Juvex clans, ladies and gentlemen. Behold, and tremble at his mighty grace.

Or laugh. I mean, you can laugh, too.

"And in other news, space is black with twinkly bits. Of course something doesn't feel right," Yan murmured slash almost-snapped at Elrych. There were squatters with guns, the cops were on the case, and shooting hadn't started. If Yan had ever learned to pay attention, maybe he'd be able to figure out what's what. But alas, common sense was a foreign concept. "Look, guys, they're clearly squatters," Yan had begun, turning to face the poor unfortunate meat-shields that he was going to push in the door first (and boy oh boy was that a mental image for the mind-readers), "so we can probably just clear them out, no fuss. Y'know, kinda sorta the thing you do over here on Teta. Nice planet, bee-tee-dubs." Did he just...? Yeah.

Then when the call came through, murderous intent instantly flared but was stymied by I-don't-want-to-get-shot instinct. There was a time and a place and this was neither. "Hey, where do you get your hair done?" Yan asked his former friend slash future victim. "Because honestly, th-" And then with the... bird? Plane? Jetpack. And with the jetpack Yan saw all hopes of buying time evaporated. The hand-cannon which was supposed to be in his holster went BLAM. How did it get to his hand so fast?! A high-speed camera would still show a blur around his hands. The gut of the man who'd just been shot was still steaming when Yan burst into shouting that was somehow, despite his small frame, terrifying. "Alright guns down or I get another case of itchy trigger finger! All we wanted was some legal advice but you tried to get us into a two-on-one and boy oh boy am I not keen for that!"

Merek lifts up his rifle while he nods to Nova, and finds a position which he can use to cover for all the team. The weapon shifts to take in positions of the targets while he speaks to his comlink, <<Alright, it looks like they are fighting.>> The weapon lifted up, while he takes a shot to those on the roof, which will probably at least distract from the team.

LT McJak is turning now, heading back towards the group. He stops some distance away, and takes out his pistol. "Look... I'm real sorry about this but-" And that's when Callax blasts off. Distraction rendered. The Officer stares and so do his minions. Everyone Does, except Zhu Yan who's close enough for a point blank attack. There is a jump as the man is flown back and onto the ground with a giant hole in him. Instantly' dead. One of the cops just goes wide eyed and takes off running. The other backs away and doesn't see the hell of a right hook scrawny Elrych gives him.

Merek starts the gun fight and that's when hell reigns down from above, like scarlet and blue hellfire. The LT raises his fire arm and fires, shooting at the most menacing warrior on the ground who just happened to be wearing Ubesse armor. He looked terrified.

By the sound of things inside, there's a fight starting already. Nova tenses, staying behind the cover of her corner and waiting for a target. It doesn't sound good in there...

Suddenly shots come her way from one of the guys on the rooftop! Evidently they're using something a lot stronger than Eyeball Mark I, if they knew she was here and they can see her around this corner.

It sucks when the bad guys keep up with the tech curve.

Looks like the fighting inside will have to wait. Nova leans around the corner and triggers a three-round burst at the roof, the bright blue stunbolts catching one of the goons and putting him down hard. <Variable, watch the roof! Bad guys have top-notch optics.>

Aryn takes a nasty shot mid-torso before she can even do anything to help. The concussive impact shatters a protective plate of armor and clearly finds purchase beneath, spilling the 'Ubese' warrior backward. Aryn tumbles over some debris and lands on her back hard. The spear bounces out of her grasp, and pain begins to filter into her senses making her favor one side and curl up, both arms cradling herself as she tries to manage the pain. Aryn does not rise back up. She's out of the fight.

Rial Het starts to put up his hands in a ploy a few present have seen him use before: "Don't shoot, I'm rich-" but then a bolt slams into Dyannah beside him, and the rogue abandons any pretense. A speed holster concealed in one sleeve snaps a holdout blaster into his hand, and Rial fires a trio of hasty shots at the nearest hostile gunman, while bending to help Dyannah out of the open.

Callax's fluttering arrival, reminding her of some great, misplaced bird from off-planet catapults everything into high gear. Dyannah kicks off her shoes without a moment of regret except for stepping on something that might hurt. No. Anything would hurt less than they do. She stuffs them in her purse not caring to leave a bigger calling card behind them than this shoot out portends. They take the place of the blaster that she flourishes.

She doesn't see the shot coming that takes her down. The blaster skitters away and she staggers holding her side, high just at the bottom of her ribs. This hurts more than high heels, she decides. Gasping, she reaches for Rial trying not to drop like a rock and stumbles with him to cover.

Zhu Yan didn't waste time. He put his hand on the shoulder of the other cop, the one Elrych punched, and plunged the sizzling barrel of the weapon into the gap between the man's ribs where his heart was hiding. "Stand back," he cautioned the kid with all of the calm he didn't have a few seconds ago. Relying on the shock of SUDDEN BURNING SENSATION to keep his target disoriented for an instant, Yan pulled the soon-to-be dead man between him and the other shooting people and pulled the trigger. Innards became out-ards as the bolt cored the man, sending a spray of cauterized oh-dear-god-why on to the floor. Presumably. He was still standing! Somehow breathing! Mind you his heart was over on the wall (or not, Yan doesn't get anatomy), so Yan fired again and the bolt simply cauterized what was already there. "GUYS THEY'RE ZOMBIES!" Yan cried out, hopelessly propping up his meat-shield as he waited for him to expire on his own from shock because everyone's least-favorite smuggler is MAGNIFICENT at creating flesh wounds!

And so there he is, Callax Dalso, lying in a pile of plastoid and packing peanuts, having left his dignity across the way. For a moment, he draws a deep breath, closing his eyes as a familiar kind of irritation fills him, the kind of irritation that fuels difficult teenagers and cheerleaders in bad holofilms. Closing his eyes, a single word floats through his mind, razor-edged and trailing burning glitter.

What. /Ever/.

And so, while guns are drawn and blaster bolts fly, those in the fight are treated to a power-assisted grunt as the pyramid of collapsed crates are flung outward, and Callax emerges like a violet knight, filled with the power of bitchiness, and carrying a pistol that could be mistaken for a miniature turbolaser lets fly at the policeman who has just dropped good Captain Nerus; with a horrible electric roar, two bursts of brilliant green light lance through the wayward Lieutenant, providing his internal organs with wonderful new ventilation as he is lifted up and flung bodily a few feet from the impact of those high-energy bolts. << You are to throw down your arms, >> he bellows through his helmet in his ladies' contralto voice, Queen Bitch coming through, << Or I shall kill you all, you terrible little men! >> Merek lifts up with his rifle, looking to all of that blaster fire coming upon the team, then he takes a shot. It about strikes the goons, but manages mostly to strike about next to them, while he maneuvers to find a place to settle in for cover while he fights.

Death stings the air, and singes the nostrils. While Callax gets up and focus fire on the Policeman Officer, who collapses in a heep of death and burnt flesh, Elrych is launching himself towards the guy holding the door open. He's quick and jumps out, trying to grab him. Instead, the goon moves out of the way and Elrych smashes against the door way in a heep. "Oww..." Though it's a little less grand than Callax's distraction. He can now see inside the warehouse. There's crates... and other thing. Hazards that can be exploited. He formulated a plan.

The Enemies inside hold off for now, having faith in the roof defense. They may shoot out covering fire now and again but it's just as difficult for them to hit those outside and those outside do them.

The fire's still coming down from the rooftop. Nova takes aim and fires another 3-round burst, smiling faintly as another goon goes down. Another is grazed, but seems to be still mobile. <Be inside as soon as I can, Variable. Still hot out here.>

Rial Het helps the wounded Zeltron to a place out of the line of fire, behind the wreckage of a durasteel dumpster. "Just set a minute, aye?" he mutters, ducking back out to fire a series of rapid bolts at one manned window of the warehouse, managing to put one goon down who wasn't quite wary enough

Back against the dumpster, Dyannah squeezes her eyes shut, nodding at Rial's instructions. She sends him a fervent wish to take care of himself. Removes her hand from her side, opens an eye to look down at it and closes her eyes at the quantity of blood she is loosing. It feels like this planet is not very oxygen rich and she wonders why they don't have suits.

The armor that Callax wears is thick and mighty - all to the good, for a shot that should drill through his guts instead is largely eaten by the thick purple armor. << Damnation, >> he hisses through his closed helm, drawing back toward cover while firing upon the one who wounded him, only to drill large holes through the lip of the roof.

"Ugh," said Yan, doing his best impression of a classy wife to a terrible Twi'lek, and pushed him over. THUMP fell the dead body next to the duo of Rial and Dyannah. "Cover. You need this more than I do!" he chirped. Awww how sweet. That task done, he started making tracks towards the doorway, out of the line of sight of the roof shooters, and right where that big clown was hiding. "HEY FRACKFACE!" he erupted, putting a bolt through the wall next to the door and into the hiding man's torso. "GET OUT OF MY WAREHOUSE!" The second bolt went through the door and into the ether, presumably into whatever it was they were there for.

Merek looks up to readjust the aim on the sight of the F-11, then lifting up with the weapon to take a shot, he strikes one of the goons clean in the face with energy from that rifle. He then speaks to the comlink, <<Roof clear.>>

Things started off pretty bad, but with the LT down and the Resistance Members starting to score some hits, things are looking up. Elrych shakes the daze from his head as Yan blasts the big guy at the door he failed to hit. He stands then, watching him fly and crash into a pile of crates. He steps inside. Looking to his right he notices one of the goons. Without thinking too much he reaches out with the Force and nudges him in the brain pan. "Hey... those guy's make fun of you too much. You should shoot 'em..."

There is a dazed sort of look on the goon before he sports a look of determination. "You're right... I should..." He raises his pistol and starts firing on his comrades. The confusion makes them forget about the outsiders and instead return fire on their comrade turned enemy. Elrych moves out of the way of a stray bolt, shouting outside. "Come on guys! Now... storm it!"

"Come on, get inside, you un-wounded maniacs," was Zhu Yan's helpful suggestion to his own allies. Wow, morale booster much. The first thing he did was put his Bryar in the gap in the wall he'd made and shot the big guy. Then he turned and shot the still-twitching dude with the hole in his chest. Tidying up, see. Then he pressed against the outside wall of the warehouse, staring down towards the only way in. "I've got you covered if there's reinforcements." And that's where Yan stayed whilst the rest of the Resistance maniacs stormed the building, making sure they weren't opening themselves to an attack from behind. <Copy roof clear,> Nova coms, her breathing a little ragged from the pain of that thigh wound. <Coming in now... watch your fire around the doorway.> The soldier dashes across the street, taking cover around the jamb of the open door everyone entered through. She has to stop and take a deep breath... ow... but finally looks inside. "LISTEN UP IN THERE! YOU'VE GOT FIVE SECONDS TO THROW DOWN THOSE BLASTERS, OR IT'LL TAKE A BUCKET AND A SHOVEL TO CLEAN UP ALL THAT'S LEFT OF YOU SLIMEBALLS!"

Apparently someone inside got a mental image of the bucket and shovel, because two of the goons drop their weapons and raise their hands. Maybe the others don't know what buckets and shovels are.

Rial Het eyes the maimed 'cover' that Yan deposits near him with a "...thanks, fella," to the colorful smuggler. Once Yan has moved on, he muses to Dy, "Not sure if the lad's deranged or just insane, but it takes all sorts, doesn't it?" Then Elrych raises the call to storm the warehouse and he gives a short nod and sharp exhale. "Be right back." And he's off around the corner, blaster raised as he dashes up with the others. He ducks through the door alongside Nova and adds another trio of bolts to the chaotic battle, dropping one underworld warrior who hadn't thrown down their gun.

Smiling weakly at Rial's words, Dyannah nods with an effort. Empathy at full throttle, she sends him an inchoate wish for safety and destruction then closes her eyes.

Aryn has managed to prop herself against the wall of another building. She pulls her medic satchel from her side and sets the rolled up kit on the ground beside her. Not needing to look down, she takes hold of the bio-foam, uses her thumb to pop its protective top, then sticks the nozzle into her armor; into her wound and past the flash-frozen dead skin until she could feel the pain. It's unclear if she screams because her helmet mutes it. The wound is filled with the bio-foam and it hardens almost in an instant. It seems the pain is nearly too much for her, because the hand holding the canister, lazily sets it back down and she just sits there for a moment, chest rising and falling in steady breaths.

Entering among the chaos, Callax looses more great emerald lances as he enters the warehouse, wounded though he is; alas, the armor, damaged as it is - and damaged as he is! - locks up slightly as he fires, leaving only crates and pallets the victim of their explosive force.

Merek makes his way to the building while he lifts up his F-11 and begins firing upon the goons while he does also.

Two drop their guns at Nova's behest, while Elrych does his best not to use his hand to summon the force and shend a crate flying towards the four that are left fighting inside. His force affected ally isn't doing so hot on the aim either and those returning fire are having trouble finding their mark on the Smuggling Corellian Jedi. "Seriously guys... give up." There is a tinge of hoplessness when Callax burst through the door along with Merek. They were outnumbered now.

"WE GIVE UP!" They should... "Alright... we give up!" They hold up their weapons in protest.

Good thing they had Liars like Rial and Yan on the case because all this was going to take some explaining to to all the police.

Mission Accomplished. Krif Dreked up, Us Dreked up, Warehouse Snatched and Bad Pirate assets eliminated/incarcerated.