Post by Gamov on Mar 7, 2012 16:43:08 GMT -5
Capture a single droid. Easy enough. Actionable intelligence had led them to an abandoned industrial park on the north east side of Oridin. It was a decrepit place, run down and dominated by the rusted faces of old buildings that the city authority had yet to see fit to demolish. In the mean time, it seemed some of the world's more destitute citizens were more than comfortable using them as homes. Staring absently out the window of the speeder at the passing skyline below them, Haran's thoughts were in the past. The decaying edifices around him reminded him of Jigunna all over again. Come to think of it, the trip had felt the same then as it did now. Silent tension filled the cramped speeder and no man in the group seemed too eager to talk or share their feelings. Good. Haran liked it that way, the quieter the better in his mind.
The speeder banked sharply around a building, causing everyone inside to sway in rhythm with the pitch of the vehicle before leveling out again. “You think FSA got an ear on this thing too?”
Haran recognized the voice, but didn't bother to shift his attention in response. Knife, for all that his name supposedly said about him, was a dull character lacking even the most basic reasoning skills it seemed. Haran didn't care for him, but then again, he didn't hate him either. He was one of those classic mob thugs, big and tough, intimidating to look at; but that was all he had going for him. If it weren't for his distinction as the only Noghri of the group, he would more than likely blend into the background of any situation and escape notice. Why Vance insisted on keeping such thick headed individuals around, Haran hadn't the slightest. The Hydra Syndicate was vast, much bigger than anything he had encountered thus far. The need for intelligent lackey's seemed to be a foregone conclusion.
Haran shrugged at Knife's question, “hard to say.”
“I don't think so. Vance is good at keeping away from cops.” The Noghri said in response, the same laconic tone penetrating his voice.
Haran nodded. It was so much nicer when no one was talking. Why did they always have to talk? It was irritating. Everyone had something to say, and nothing intelligent ever seemed to come of it.
“How come you don't talk much? That's weird....”
Haran turned his head to face Knife. Words would be futile in attempting to explain why he didn't like talking to people. Perhaps he could educate him on what it was like to be a ten year old boy without parents who was abused by a sadistic Twi'lek smuggler with a mean streak as wide as the Corellian Run was long. And if not that, maybe he could tell him about the xenophobic Republic Sergeant that he served under for three years. Perhaps he could even tell him about the Republic Admiral who was willing to sacrifice hundreds of soldiers just so he wouldn't be caught holding hands with the Hutts. But no, Knife wouldn't understand any of that. He barely understood how to lace up his own boots. Explaining complex matters such as emotion to him would be like banging your head against a duracrete wall. Except banging your head against the wall would actually accomplish something and might feel better by comparison.
“Easy big guy, don't want to upset him.”
Haran's attention slowly trailed over to Argyle in the seat opposite of Knife. Of any other individual in this speeder or in the entire syndicate, he was the one man he loathed the most. Argyle was sly, crafty and creative. He would just as soon shoot you as he would look at you. He looked at Haran the way a firaxan shark would look at a fish. His career was prey for him, and he was intent on devouring it. But if he ever got that far, Haran would make sure Argyle regretted every second of it.
“We're here.” The voice of the driver interrupted the brief conversation as the speeder came to a gentle stop outside a warehouse.
Allowing Argyle and Knife to exit the vehicle first, Haran kept his attention on the Devaronian before he got out of the speeder himself, his trust rifle well in hand. Taking stock of their surroundings, Haran found it odd that a droid would chose such a derelict area of the city to call home. Most droids that don't want to be found end up assuming the role of another droid all together or vanishing off into the farthest reaches of space. Seldom did they travel this close to the core to visit populated areas.
“Alright, you're outback, make sure it doesn't escape that way. Knife, you're with me.”
Haran didn't even spare a glance for Argyle. He had his orders, such that they were, and quickly set off from their landing zone. Tracing a path through the back alleys and garbage littered streets of the warehouse district, Haran couldn't help but notice that something felt wrong about the whole set up. Three men sent to capture one droid that was supposedly a highly lethal bounty hunter? Either the stories about said droid were largely fabricated, or Vance wanted them dead. Haran considered the latter was the case. Especially considering he had placed Argyle in over all command of the mission. If ever there was an opportunity for Argyle to attempt to play his hand, this would be it.
Working his way to the back of the warehouse, Haran was careful to check his corners and scan ahead for any potential ambushes. So far satisfied, Haran made for an abandoned out building that was positioned directly across from the rear of the warehouse. Swiftly crossing the wide road separating the two buildings, Haran set up his position in a small office on the ground floor. Making a makeshift dead rest out of a desk, he remained as far back from the window as he possibly could to allow the shadows to conceal his location. Settling into his seat, he was stuck playing the waiting game again as his eyes pensively studied the back of the warehouse, waiting for any signs of the droid or the other two mercenaries.
Pulling his blaster first, Argyle lashed out, “we're not paying anything for that droid. I don't care who you think you are. Now show us where it is.”
The man gave a sharp snap of his fingers. Instantly, another pair of mercenaries in the same garb came out of a nearby hiding spot carrying the droid between the two of them. As the men tossed the droid on the floor in front of Argyle, an angry sneer came over the Devaronian's features.
“What's this? You expect me to believe this?” He flipped the safety off of his blaster and pulled up a bead on the man's chest, “where's the real droid?”
The man replied with a confident smirk and a mocking chuckle. “There was no droid.... Ever.”
The following instant, Argyle's face twisted into a horrified look. He knew he had been betrayed by Vance, possibly with help from that Kel Dor. The sound of extra blasters charging in the room behind them caught Argyle's attention and as he glanced around him, he could see the true extent of his situation.
Additional soldiers had been spread out through out the warehouse floor, covering almost every conceivable angle from concealed positions, both up high and on the ground level, waiting patiently for the perfect moment to pounce. Eventually, they sprung their surprise attack against the mercenaries, cutting them off and surrounding them within seconds. Yet the most shocking betrayal of all came from Knife, who had joined the other mercenaries in taking aim on Argyle. The Deveroinan could only glare in disbelief at the treachery of his former comrade.
“I was paid very well to make sure you don't make it out of here alive.... Argyle.”
The man drew a blaster and was going to fire, only to be hit in the back with a high energy round from a distant sniper rifle. He slumped to the warehouse floor as the other mercenaries in the room swung around, searching for the source of the shot. Within seconds, another shot put another mercenary down, then a third. Realizing that the fire must be coming from Haran somewhere behind the building, Argyle took the opportunity to take advantage of the confusion and killed Knife with a quick shot to the head before fighting his way back towards the entrance of the warehouse through a hail of red blaster bolts.
He sat in silence alone in the room. A pale blue light cast over his face from the computer console in front of him, revealing the aged, sunken features of his face. Bony fingers, adorned with gilded rings and signets brought a death stick to his lips as his attention was fixed on the images streaming in front of him. A thin wisp of smoke escaped through his lips as he exhaled and gently tapped the death stick on the edge of an ornate crystal ashtray while he contemplated the future of his enterprise through the events playing out on the holoscreen in front of him.
Recent openings in his industry had left room to pursue alternative methods of gaining control over his vast criminal empire. This was little more than a calculated risk built around financial frugality. In the long run, it would be far cheaper and easier for him to bribe the local FSA and pocket their agents for his own use than it would be to try and stem the effects of the Republic's vast military and economic wealth with a single droid. That was what owning Senators was for.
“Sir,” a voice spoke out through the dim silence of the room. “They've made contact.”
“So I've noticed.” He said in response, his voice gravelly and tinged with age. Silence resumed its hold over the room as the images on the screen changed once again. New arrivals were quickly heading to the scene, as expected. It was time to entertain his guests. Taking another drag on the death stick, he exhaled the resulting smoke through his nostrils and tapped the ashes away from the glowing tip into the ashtray again, “do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Watching the chaos through the scope of his rifle, Haran timed his every shot like it was his last. Another squeeze of the trigger, a slight recoil buffeted his shoulder and the round sailed through the air to its intended target. As the figure crumpled forward, he swung his attention right to find new quarry. Another deft squeeze of the trigger put another mercenary out of commission. He wasn't firing to save Argyle or Knife, he could care less about them. Instead, Haran knew the psychological impact a sniper could have on soldiers. He had seen it on Jigunna, and he had done it on Coruscant during the raid at 500 Republica. It was a highly effective tactic and firing on them from an undisclosed location would hopefully put fear in their minds and hamper any form of meaningful pursuit.
Suddenly, the sound of sirens pierced through the air and drew his attention. Haran looked away from his scope. It was a set up, just as he had known it would be. Breaking out of his position, Haran moved away from the office to the back of the building and peered out into the alley separating him from the nearest building. So far there was no movement on the ground level near his location, but the sirens were getting closer. His window of opportunity for making a clean exit was closing fast.
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Haran set off into the narrow side streets and alleys. Every now and again, the blare of sirens would come closer, drawing his attention skyward and forcing him to break for more appropriate cover to avoid detection. Knowing he had been set up by Vance, Haran's instincts guided him as far away from the warehouse as possible. And with good timing as an explosion soon rippled through the industrial district. Haran paused in mid stride, spinning sharply on his heel to glance back towards the warehouse where Argyle and Knife had been. A thick cloud of black smoke poured up over the peak of the building, indicating the origin of the blast. Haran's thoughts didn't linger for long though and he was on the move again, weaving his way through cramped side streets while police sirens continued to shriek at him from over head.
Eventually, the din of activity in the industrial district faded out and the sprawling warehouse complexes began to thin as his path began to lead him back towards the major urban center. It would be dangerous to head back into the city this soon. The FSA would be everywhere, not to mention Deveraux's men were probably on the prowl looking for any survivors. Having been on the run for almost ten minutes, Haran decided it was safe enough to take a rest. Removing his rifle from his shoulder, he let out a deep sigh as he finally got a chance to catch his breath. Settling into the boarded up doorway of a nearby apartment building, his eyes turned up to the skies again as he watched diligently for any signs of police activity. Most of the authorities would have descended on the warehouse district by now, but he felt he had put sufficient distance between himself and that scene. He shouldn't have much to worry about for the moment.
Gradually lowering himself to the cold duracrete pavement, a low rumble of thunder echoed down the alley as rain began to pelt the streets. He would wait here for a time, catch his breath and compose himself. Then he would have to find another way off of this planet to places beyond. Once again it seemed that betrayal had followed him, but by now he had become accustomed to it.
The speeder banked sharply around a building, causing everyone inside to sway in rhythm with the pitch of the vehicle before leveling out again. “You think FSA got an ear on this thing too?”
Haran recognized the voice, but didn't bother to shift his attention in response. Knife, for all that his name supposedly said about him, was a dull character lacking even the most basic reasoning skills it seemed. Haran didn't care for him, but then again, he didn't hate him either. He was one of those classic mob thugs, big and tough, intimidating to look at; but that was all he had going for him. If it weren't for his distinction as the only Noghri of the group, he would more than likely blend into the background of any situation and escape notice. Why Vance insisted on keeping such thick headed individuals around, Haran hadn't the slightest. The Hydra Syndicate was vast, much bigger than anything he had encountered thus far. The need for intelligent lackey's seemed to be a foregone conclusion.
Haran shrugged at Knife's question, “hard to say.”
“I don't think so. Vance is good at keeping away from cops.” The Noghri said in response, the same laconic tone penetrating his voice.
Haran nodded. It was so much nicer when no one was talking. Why did they always have to talk? It was irritating. Everyone had something to say, and nothing intelligent ever seemed to come of it.
“How come you don't talk much? That's weird....”
Haran turned his head to face Knife. Words would be futile in attempting to explain why he didn't like talking to people. Perhaps he could educate him on what it was like to be a ten year old boy without parents who was abused by a sadistic Twi'lek smuggler with a mean streak as wide as the Corellian Run was long. And if not that, maybe he could tell him about the xenophobic Republic Sergeant that he served under for three years. Perhaps he could even tell him about the Republic Admiral who was willing to sacrifice hundreds of soldiers just so he wouldn't be caught holding hands with the Hutts. But no, Knife wouldn't understand any of that. He barely understood how to lace up his own boots. Explaining complex matters such as emotion to him would be like banging your head against a duracrete wall. Except banging your head against the wall would actually accomplish something and might feel better by comparison.
“Easy big guy, don't want to upset him.”
Haran's attention slowly trailed over to Argyle in the seat opposite of Knife. Of any other individual in this speeder or in the entire syndicate, he was the one man he loathed the most. Argyle was sly, crafty and creative. He would just as soon shoot you as he would look at you. He looked at Haran the way a firaxan shark would look at a fish. His career was prey for him, and he was intent on devouring it. But if he ever got that far, Haran would make sure Argyle regretted every second of it.
“We're here.” The voice of the driver interrupted the brief conversation as the speeder came to a gentle stop outside a warehouse.
Allowing Argyle and Knife to exit the vehicle first, Haran kept his attention on the Devaronian before he got out of the speeder himself, his trust rifle well in hand. Taking stock of their surroundings, Haran found it odd that a droid would chose such a derelict area of the city to call home. Most droids that don't want to be found end up assuming the role of another droid all together or vanishing off into the farthest reaches of space. Seldom did they travel this close to the core to visit populated areas.
“Alright, you're outback, make sure it doesn't escape that way. Knife, you're with me.”
Haran didn't even spare a glance for Argyle. He had his orders, such that they were, and quickly set off from their landing zone. Tracing a path through the back alleys and garbage littered streets of the warehouse district, Haran couldn't help but notice that something felt wrong about the whole set up. Three men sent to capture one droid that was supposedly a highly lethal bounty hunter? Either the stories about said droid were largely fabricated, or Vance wanted them dead. Haran considered the latter was the case. Especially considering he had placed Argyle in over all command of the mission. If ever there was an opportunity for Argyle to attempt to play his hand, this would be it.
Working his way to the back of the warehouse, Haran was careful to check his corners and scan ahead for any potential ambushes. So far satisfied, Haran made for an abandoned out building that was positioned directly across from the rear of the warehouse. Swiftly crossing the wide road separating the two buildings, Haran set up his position in a small office on the ground floor. Making a makeshift dead rest out of a desk, he remained as far back from the window as he possibly could to allow the shadows to conceal his location. Settling into his seat, he was stuck playing the waiting game again as his eyes pensively studied the back of the warehouse, waiting for any signs of the droid or the other two mercenaries.
Pulling his blaster first, Argyle lashed out, “we're not paying anything for that droid. I don't care who you think you are. Now show us where it is.”
The man gave a sharp snap of his fingers. Instantly, another pair of mercenaries in the same garb came out of a nearby hiding spot carrying the droid between the two of them. As the men tossed the droid on the floor in front of Argyle, an angry sneer came over the Devaronian's features.
“What's this? You expect me to believe this?” He flipped the safety off of his blaster and pulled up a bead on the man's chest, “where's the real droid?”
The man replied with a confident smirk and a mocking chuckle. “There was no droid.... Ever.”
The following instant, Argyle's face twisted into a horrified look. He knew he had been betrayed by Vance, possibly with help from that Kel Dor. The sound of extra blasters charging in the room behind them caught Argyle's attention and as he glanced around him, he could see the true extent of his situation.
Additional soldiers had been spread out through out the warehouse floor, covering almost every conceivable angle from concealed positions, both up high and on the ground level, waiting patiently for the perfect moment to pounce. Eventually, they sprung their surprise attack against the mercenaries, cutting them off and surrounding them within seconds. Yet the most shocking betrayal of all came from Knife, who had joined the other mercenaries in taking aim on Argyle. The Deveroinan could only glare in disbelief at the treachery of his former comrade.
“I was paid very well to make sure you don't make it out of here alive.... Argyle.”
The man drew a blaster and was going to fire, only to be hit in the back with a high energy round from a distant sniper rifle. He slumped to the warehouse floor as the other mercenaries in the room swung around, searching for the source of the shot. Within seconds, another shot put another mercenary down, then a third. Realizing that the fire must be coming from Haran somewhere behind the building, Argyle took the opportunity to take advantage of the confusion and killed Knife with a quick shot to the head before fighting his way back towards the entrance of the warehouse through a hail of red blaster bolts.
He sat in silence alone in the room. A pale blue light cast over his face from the computer console in front of him, revealing the aged, sunken features of his face. Bony fingers, adorned with gilded rings and signets brought a death stick to his lips as his attention was fixed on the images streaming in front of him. A thin wisp of smoke escaped through his lips as he exhaled and gently tapped the death stick on the edge of an ornate crystal ashtray while he contemplated the future of his enterprise through the events playing out on the holoscreen in front of him.
Recent openings in his industry had left room to pursue alternative methods of gaining control over his vast criminal empire. This was little more than a calculated risk built around financial frugality. In the long run, it would be far cheaper and easier for him to bribe the local FSA and pocket their agents for his own use than it would be to try and stem the effects of the Republic's vast military and economic wealth with a single droid. That was what owning Senators was for.
“Sir,” a voice spoke out through the dim silence of the room. “They've made contact.”
“So I've noticed.” He said in response, his voice gravelly and tinged with age. Silence resumed its hold over the room as the images on the screen changed once again. New arrivals were quickly heading to the scene, as expected. It was time to entertain his guests. Taking another drag on the death stick, he exhaled the resulting smoke through his nostrils and tapped the ashes away from the glowing tip into the ashtray again, “do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Watching the chaos through the scope of his rifle, Haran timed his every shot like it was his last. Another squeeze of the trigger, a slight recoil buffeted his shoulder and the round sailed through the air to its intended target. As the figure crumpled forward, he swung his attention right to find new quarry. Another deft squeeze of the trigger put another mercenary out of commission. He wasn't firing to save Argyle or Knife, he could care less about them. Instead, Haran knew the psychological impact a sniper could have on soldiers. He had seen it on Jigunna, and he had done it on Coruscant during the raid at 500 Republica. It was a highly effective tactic and firing on them from an undisclosed location would hopefully put fear in their minds and hamper any form of meaningful pursuit.
Suddenly, the sound of sirens pierced through the air and drew his attention. Haran looked away from his scope. It was a set up, just as he had known it would be. Breaking out of his position, Haran moved away from the office to the back of the building and peered out into the alley separating him from the nearest building. So far there was no movement on the ground level near his location, but the sirens were getting closer. His window of opportunity for making a clean exit was closing fast.
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Haran set off into the narrow side streets and alleys. Every now and again, the blare of sirens would come closer, drawing his attention skyward and forcing him to break for more appropriate cover to avoid detection. Knowing he had been set up by Vance, Haran's instincts guided him as far away from the warehouse as possible. And with good timing as an explosion soon rippled through the industrial district. Haran paused in mid stride, spinning sharply on his heel to glance back towards the warehouse where Argyle and Knife had been. A thick cloud of black smoke poured up over the peak of the building, indicating the origin of the blast. Haran's thoughts didn't linger for long though and he was on the move again, weaving his way through cramped side streets while police sirens continued to shriek at him from over head.
Eventually, the din of activity in the industrial district faded out and the sprawling warehouse complexes began to thin as his path began to lead him back towards the major urban center. It would be dangerous to head back into the city this soon. The FSA would be everywhere, not to mention Deveraux's men were probably on the prowl looking for any survivors. Having been on the run for almost ten minutes, Haran decided it was safe enough to take a rest. Removing his rifle from his shoulder, he let out a deep sigh as he finally got a chance to catch his breath. Settling into the boarded up doorway of a nearby apartment building, his eyes turned up to the skies again as he watched diligently for any signs of police activity. Most of the authorities would have descended on the warehouse district by now, but he felt he had put sufficient distance between himself and that scene. He shouldn't have much to worry about for the moment.
Gradually lowering himself to the cold duracrete pavement, a low rumble of thunder echoed down the alley as rain began to pelt the streets. He would wait here for a time, catch his breath and compose himself. Then he would have to find another way off of this planet to places beyond. Once again it seemed that betrayal had followed him, but by now he had become accustomed to it.
