Log:Wanted Alive: FO Gear Buyer

Wanted Alive: FO Gear Buyer

OOC Date: August 19, 2019
Location: Multiple Locations
Participants: Merek, Oran Arcantael, Sumi Kora

Dark Alley - Starport District, Nar Shaddaa

Beside the Cracked Hull bar is a dark and damp alley which most sane people would not tread into. The alley is littered with trash and abandoned junk as well as vermants of a strange rodent like species. The sounds of the city are muffled by the tall walls within here and every now and then a white spotlight waves through from high up above illuminating the area for but a few seconds.

Strange sounds and the unpredictable are common here. Watch your step. At the end of the alley, past all the garbage and behind two old, and unused, trash cans is a single metal door.

There are currently 19 sketchy looking people in this area.

Sumi Kora has no doubt had some unsavory meetings with unsavory characters in her time, at locations around the galaxy that are a few degrees less than ideal. Sometimes dangerous - sometimes profitable - and often both, those meetings. Which category or categories this falls into remains to be seen, but the contact is known, a Coruscanti agent of the First Order whom she has spoken to before, albeit briefly. The place and time were his choosing, and he is here early, waiting, face cast in the shadow of a hooded robe. A briefcase rests near his feet, nothing fancy, but large enough to hold a disassembled weapon. Or a lot of credits.

Spotting Sumi Kora is not a feat. Any Mandalorian, wearing true beskar'gam, stands out like a bantha among Ewoks. Her design is distinct enough to have reputation both in the Hutt circles, and the independent market. She's plated in blue, and wears a silver trimmed cape. If the armor wasn't reason enough to slink out of her path, the heavily modified DP-23 pump-action shotgun was. She walks right to the meeting place, disappearing into the shadows of the alley to be swallowed up, like any other wretched thing on this moon, and soon forgotten. <"An interesting locale, but not the worst.."> She passes as a greeting, though a measure of respect is afforded by way of a subtle yet distinguishable nod.

"It could be several degrees worse. It could be thousands of degrees /better/," Oran replies, "But it's a meeting I'd rather pass unobserved this time, and the Celestial Gardens at Parmac Tower are perhaps less than ideal for such clandestine endeavors. At least here, if anyone comes along creeping, we can kill him before he scampers off into the wild." He's kidding. Probably. He has a dry way about his tone that makes it hard to tell. "Thank you for meeting me here, nonetheless. I will do my best to be efficient with your time. It has recently come to my attention that someone, a foolish someone, is posting on the holonet in an effort to buy First Order rifles on the black market."

Oran's explanation is met with a silent nod. It was efficient, and matched the promise he made with regards to her time. The note to killing was also left alone. Should the need arise, some unlucky gutter trash might find their last moments sharing a glimpse at the pair. If they weren't spread across the alleyway in bits thanks to a shotgun, she was certain he had the means to do even worse. Call it a gut feeling.

<"Not the first idiot to request one, and probably not the last. It seems some are more bold these days. Is it this person you wish to mark for capture?"> Her voice has the sound of a smile to it.

Oran never /looks/ armed, but he carries himself with the confidence of someone who is, regardless. Is it just foolhardy confidence, or is there more than meets the eye to this short, posh Core-world nobleman? Apparently no one has tried to find out. Or if they have, they weren't in a position to talk about it afterward.

"Just so," the erstwhile aristocrat confirms. "A single buyer is not a galactic threat in the way a buyer of quantity is, but nonetheless, it's idiotic and it's deeply annoying, neither of which I care to stand for." He picks up the briefcase at his feet, and offers it. "This case contains a Sonn-Blas F-11D Blaster Rifle, the make and model which the buyer requests. This one is modded and he or she wanted it unmodded, but I'm indisposed to go through the hassle of removing mods for the sake of bait. What I want you to do is respond to the ad confirming you have the F-11D for sale, meet the buyer, and arrest whomever shows up to collect it. I suspect they will wish to meet away from Nar Shaddaa and away from Order-controlled territories." He smiles. The surface is warm, but the water gets cold down deep. "Subdue the buyer alive and bring him or her to me. Should you have sufficient advanced notice of the when and where of the meeting, I will be pleased to provide backup enforcement of the matter."

The case is taken and carried to a nearby dumpster. With the top down, it provided a surface with which she could set the case and open it. A brief look over the rifle, her gloved hand brushing over the design. Even if it was First Order, its superior class and style far exceeded anything in her own armory save one weapon.

She shuts the case and looks up at him. <"I'll do my best to get them alone. A weapon of this rarity is sure to draw anyone out into the open; myself included."> She pulls the case off the surface and holds it in one hand, beneath the confines of her tattered cape. Her other hand produces a secure calling card. <"This is encrypted. Untraceable. You will receive a message from me about any details that come up as a result of this transaction.">

"I will need that rifle back, of course," Oran notes with one brow slightly lifted, "At the successful conclusion of the endeavor, or if the job is unsuccessful or unreasonably delayed. Wouldn't do to have it out and about unsupervised in the galaxy, after all this fuss about preventing just the same." He accepts the calling card, and pockets it neatly. "Pay is 50,000 credits upon delivery of this would-be buyer into my custody. If the buyer turns out to be a person of previous interest or an existing bounty, there will be a bonus." A hand dips neatly into a different pocket, and he extends secure contact information of his own. "You may likewise feel free to contact me in confidence about whatever questions, comments, or inquiries should arise, of course."

<"Of course. Gear adrift is gear a gift."> The Mandalorian recits some old Mando'a wise tale. <"I will begin my hunt immediately."> Sumi turns to leave then, pausing when her back is to him. <"I appreciate you considering me for this task."> A silent nod, and the small warrior strides off, with a renewed sense of urgency guiding her speed.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Oran replies to Sumi. "Happy hunting." He turns to disappear into the shadows!! ...And it'd be super rad if he literally did... but he doesn't. Just walks off into the alley, with a swoosh of black cloak, all badass and mysterious and -- CLATTER clatter, oh, tripped over a can, who put that there? Well. Can't win 'em all.

---

Cockpit - GBT Kyber Heart

There are two seats in this vessel, positioned side by side. On either side of the seats are the large viewports that give a very nice view of the area beside the vessel. The forward viewport is very slim but still allows easy piloting if one is skilled enough to make up for the somewhat odd design of this ship. There is a small area behind the seats where the crew can slide back to the hatch into the rear cabin.

Holocomm Transmitter <Transmitting> is now listening.

• Holocomm connection established.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * Two R-41 Starchasers are *flicker* launching from Rori and heading out into space.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * The planet of Naboo shines in space, its green and blue landscape bright and beautiful under the light of its system star.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A bulk freighter is settling into the atmosphere of Rori with the bright trails of breaking the atmosphere around its hull.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A transport *flicker* shuttle slowly descends toward the *flicker* Naboo atmosphere.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram Merek stops the ship.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A pair of light freighters sweep through the stars on their way toward Naboo's skies.

<"Good day. I presume this is about the weapon you seek?"> The Mandalorian comes into view then, the iconic T-visor designed helmet holding some detail of exterior damage, the likely result of a battle of some sort. She appears to be standing before him.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram Merek puts *flicker* on his CNG Starpilot Armor - 18253.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram Merek is settled about upon the cockpit seat, while he opens the comlink. He *flicker* has on his CNG starpilot armor with the helmet upon him also. He nods to the screen as well, <<It is,>> he says.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A cargo TUG is organizing a field of cargo containers in orbit of Rori, waiting for a hauler to come retrieve them.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A cargo transport is making its way through the atmosphere of Rori headed toward the moon's surface.

<"I happen to be in possession of the weapon. It's in mint condition. One might say, fresh off the rack."> She opens a case and brings it into view. <"What's your best offer?">

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram Merek seems to think about it while he considers. He then chews upon his lip with *flicker* a nod, <<Well, my first offer is 25,000, with *flicker* a deposit of 12500 to begin with, I admit I was just buying a few other things, but I have character references for my ability *flicker* to pay. I assume you would wish for interest if we do it that way though.>>

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A *flicker* pair of light freighters sweep through the stars on their way toward Naboo's skies.

<"I can waive the interest. I'm not looking to extort. If you have character references, I can look into those. Of course, if you don't pay me, I can always track you down myself; but I give everyone a fair shot. Since this is our first business arrangement, just the payments will do. Though, I'm old galaxy. I do business in person. Will this be a problem?"> Sumi shuts the case and crosses her arms.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram Merek looks to the screen, seeming to try and catch something, but he just nods as he heard what was important. <<Trader's Union would likely work, they did most of my loans for my ship. I am willing to meet in person, yes. That will depend upon *flicker* where you're willing to do *flicker* business. I can likely be on Naboo if you want to set it *flicker* up that way.>>

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A bulk freighter is settling into the atmosphere of Rori with *flicker* the bright trails of breaking the atmosphere around its *flicker* hull.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A cargo TUG is organizing a field of cargo containers in orbit of Rori, waiting for a hauler to come retrieve them.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A duo of N-1 Naboo Starfighters are launching from the surface of Rori and flying *flicker* toward Naboo.

<"I can't do Naboo. I try to steer clear of the Resistance and First Order controlled systems. I was in the Galactic Civil War; I've seen enough war for one lifetime; I hope you understand."> Sumi shifts, clasping her hands behind her back. <"How about Spice Terminus, in the Bysis system. Neutral location, and common place for business like this. We shouldn't draw the eye of anyone there.">

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram Merek looks *flicker* to his control panel, *flicker* then back up to Sumi, while he chuckles a bit in amusement at something. <<Fair enough, Spice Terminus it is,>> he mentions, while he begins *flicker* to tap in coordinates. << I can be there in a little bit,>> he adds.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * A Space TUG can be seen parking alongside a *flicker* navigation buoy, with an *flicker* EVS Engineer out in space performing *flicker* maintenance.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram * *flicker* A light freighter emerges from the clouds around Rori *flicker* and heads into space.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram Merek reaches out and shoves the ship's throttle forward and *flicker* with a sudden rumble through the bulkheads the *flicker* Defiance's engines flare to life propelling it ahead.

Holographic Transmission ::::

Hologram Merek reaches out and taps a button to set a programmed intercept course for Buoy: Royal Way.

<"I'll meet you there. Safe travels, friend."> Sumi kills the feed.

---

The Cardhouse - STA Spice Terminus

A downward sloped ramp leads from the corridor outside into this cardhouse. Here one is assaulted with the smells of a wide variety of smokeables being enjoyed by those within this den of scum and villainy.

Tables line the bulk of the room's floor, each with their own light source overtop of it. There are booths along the walls and droids are used to bring drinks and a selection of foods out from a back bar area where a small bar services a large amount of people.

Sabacc, pazaak and many other forms of gambling take place here. Along with fights and illicit smuggling contracts being thrown about like candy in a Zeltros candy store.

There are currently 3 people in this area.

The Cardhouse was surprisingly barren, but it wasn't a popular night to play. Just the barkeep was behind the bar, and some random droid sweeping the corner. Sumi Kora, the Mandalorian in blue plated beskar'gam is standing at one of the standing tables looking over the empty stage. She doesn't have a drink, so it probably meant that she had not been here long at all. Despite this being business, Sumi still looked the part of war-torn Mandalorian. She was armed to the teeth, /always/ ready for anything. Placed in front of her is the case containing the weapon she intends to sell for a reasonably fair price. She idly drums her fingers atop it, listening to the audio music being played over the speakers.

Merek is making his way into the place, still in his CNG starpilot equipment. You have to be on your guard a bit, and he makes for where Suma is, politely and with no hostile intention to show. Still, he looks like a man who has seen his fair share as well, while he finds a place to settle and nods, "Greetings," he says, recognizing the woman from the holocomm also. Sumi turns to regard the spacer, eying him up and down for a moment before motioning for a place for him to take. <"Good evening. I apologize for the inconvenience. You never know these days. It's best to be safe than sorry."> The Mandalorian slaps the top of the case with her gloved hand. <"So, remind me the price once more. I have an awful memory.">

Merek looks to the gun which is pulled, while he seems to consider it a moment, then he makes for the entrance to the place, at a run, because sometimes you have to do all that. He was already on edge.

Sumi draws and Merek makes for the run. She takes a centered stance taking aim and fires a stun array. Her other two shots go wide, but she can confirm that she hit him hard. An encrypted comm is sent at that point. <<"He's a runner. Now! Now!">> The Bounty Hunter's voice was crisp, commanding, and she starts after the buyer now, looking to finish it.

Entrance might not have been the best place to go. Through the door of the bar strides a man moving with intention, and perhaps something about the dark aspect of that cloaked figure causes people to part in his wake, to slip out the door before they might start to witness something they might not like to remember forever. The innocent silver cylinder in the man's right hand might have something to do with that, for those who know what they're looking at. Merek, too, no doubt knows what he's looking at -- or rather, who.

Oran smiles. "Hello," he greets, followed by, "I really should've guessed it'd be you. You're far too trusting. And you're under arrest, of course," he adds in a polite, conversational tone. Then, Merek is bolting, trying to avoid Sumi's shots, and with a snap hiss, the saber springs to life. "Or, we can do this the hard way. As you like it."

Merek calls to the whole station, "First Order here, you all really going to let them take over this place too!?" he calls. He's then slashed into by the lightsaber which sheaths through him and out the back. He falls, fortunately probably away from the lightsaber also.

Sumi sets the case down beside Oran, and takes a kneeling stance over Merek. Uncaring for his injuries, she begins to search his person, removing every weapon and item he has on his person. His hands are then bound behind his back and she leaves him in place. <"That's done with, Lord Oran. My credits as promised?"> The Bounty Hunter steps aside, leaving the Knight of Ren with his prise and any belongings he thought to append from the buyer.

"Oh, Merek," Oran sighs, twirling the saber with a brief hum of crimson, "Yes, they are going to let me take over this station, or I'm going to kill every single one of them. I know that. They know that. That's how this works. That's how aallllll of this," hand wave like he's washing a window, "Works." He watches as Sumi divests Merek of his belongings, offers, "Take anything you like except that Z6 Riot Control Baton, that's coming with me," and then tosses her what looks like the sort of card one can load massive amounts of credits onto. It's an arc, easy to catch. "You are as always a consummate professional," he praises the Hunter, then looks back to Merek. "You're actually quite lucky, Merek, on account of I absolutely don't want to spend more time with you than is strictly necessary. I have other plans. Come, come." He plucks up the baton, gestures at Merek, and starts tugging him out as though by invisible leash.

To the barkeep, another toss of credits. "Sorry about the mess."

Merek meanwhile has a hole in him, while he's pulled up by the telekinesis. He doesn't have a lot to really say about anything with the smoke which is coming from him. He's lifting up a hand to try to reach to, something, who knows what as well.

Sumi hoists Merek up by his arm, hooking her own under his to support his weight and drag him. She had a holding cell to store him in on her ship. <"We can store him in a cell on my ship until we get back to First Order territory. I've removed everything I found on him, and among his possessions were Resistance aligned weapons and gear. I'll turn those over to you as well, sir."> Sumi didn't want Resistance gear.

Alas, poor Merek! He's been wounded grievously in this double-cross, and perhaps consciousness will spare him the worst of it as he floats in and out of this reality and the next. This reality... is unkind. There are flashes of some kind of medical bay where his condition is roughly, un-sentimentally stabilized, and again that hum, that horrible hum, red light and a sound to walk nightmares, as his cybernetic arms and legs are cut off - no flesh wounds beyond the initial attack, but lacking arms and legs, it's inconvenient, you can't scratch your nose.

Perhaps the last memory, if he remembers, is being fixed with a note pinned to his chest that says:

Please take care to remember that the buying and selling of First Order weaponry on the black market is illegal and a punishable offense. Regards, Oran Arcantael, agent of the First Order.

Maybe Merek remembers that smile again, then a lid closes down on top of him. And in his stasis crate, he begins his cargo-shipped journey back to Naboo.