Louder Than Words |DLA|

[Dutch]

"Be aggressive. B-E aggressive..."

Mo's little cheer caused Dutch's heart to flutter, and a tiny corner of a smile would crease the left side of his mouth. On the massive displays it made him look more confident, almost as if he was sneering up at Baroness Decou. Saved me Green, way to go... He thought as he resisted the urge to look around for her. Last thing the man needed to do was give away that there were DLA snipers all around the rim. Though he wanted nothing more than to see Mo's dazzling blues. Instead, with cool cruelty stared Decou. It was then that Grizz' words filled the static of the public channel, and was then grateful that he did look the way he did. The new sweat would go unnoticed, and the blood on his face made his skin already appear reddened. So the blush was unnoticed too. And that one is gonna kill me... In another life, Dutch could swear that he was once married to Grizzelda for the amount of crap she gave him.

He looked to his fellow DLA around him before he stepped forward, his boot thudded against the duracrete in the near silent arena. To be honest, Dutch was rather relieved when several of the others held back from the march. Less exposed meant less risks. The last thing he needed was an injured comrade. The ones that did walk beside and behind Dutch, were ones he was quite happy to have with him. The fighters, the brawlers, the soldiers. As they walked, a few daring individuals in the crowd would whistle, cheer, and even shout "DLA!". Goosebumps rose over his arms as more and more people joined in. He could see Sith troopers as they tried to quell supporters. This made Dutch angry. His ears picked up the iconic twang! of Mo's Aditi as the bow buried an arrow into the crowd.

"Go on, big papa. I got your back..."

Mo's voice whispered into his ear after, clearly on their private channel. Her sultry smooth voice made his eyebrow quirk and his face feel warmer. It took every fiber of his being to continue the march. All he could think about at that moment, was Mohana. She had his back, he never once doubted that. She always had his back. During the good. During the bad. During the worst. There were few constants in Dutch's life, fewer still since the Sith's arrival. But there had always been Mo, sweet, kind, supportive Mo. Dutch keyed back into their channel, and whispered back.

"You always have..."

Right after he spoke a familiar voice blared over the intercom. This change of entertainment tonight has been brought to you by the Dantooine Liberation Army! Cheered the voice of Glitch. Dutch blinked and looked up at the monitors in confusion. He hadn't planned this... Suddenly with a great blaring, the Planetary Anthem of Dantooine began to play. Even he couldn't deny how impressed he was as a fluttering image of the Dantooine flag flew behind him as he and his DLA marched. The song was bold, beautiful and poetic. It sang of mighty oceans and gilded grasslands. Of people working together, and struggles triumphed. Almost as if the writer of the Anthem from millenia past had known that one day, that song would be needed to help save Dantooine herself.

It was then that a couple disguised troopers suddenly peeled from the crowd and attacked. A couple became a few, and Dutch did not flinch from his march as the men and women around him took down each Sith, the smack of fists of faces and moans of pain were drowned out by the booming Anthem. Not once did Dutch look away from Decou, who did not even break eye contact a she leaned back to whisper something into Shaw's ear. The man nodded once with a stern face, and spun to stalk offstage. What're you planning schutta... thought Dutch as he moved on. By now more of the crowd were chanting "DLA! DLA! DLA!" and small pockets of fighting had broken out, stretching the guard troopers more and more. Another group peeled out from the crowd to attack, and this time, Dutch wanted a piece of the action.

He grabbed the first attacker by his shoulders to bring a vicious knee to his gut before Dutch idly tossed him aside, not once did his eyes leave Decou. The second that launched at Dutch took a right uppercut before a boot to the chest. Again, he never looked away from the Baroness. When the third attacked, Dutch sidestepped the man and pushed him to his comrades who took the man apart. Yet still he did not look away. The anthem blared to a close as he reached the stage, unharmed and determined. He hopped up the steps that led to it with his DLA in tow. More guards ran to greet them, but stopped with a single word:

"Halt."

Everyone on stage did, except for Dutch and his gang. There was no way some tall Sith lush was going to command him. Her word was barely more than a whisper, the voice surprisingly soft with a hint of authority. The word echoed over the intercom, as she was clearly still allowed access to speak by Glitch. That was part of the plan. No secrets. Baroness Decou smiled coldly at Dutch and turned her eyes to the crowd. She waved for them to quiet down, and many obeyed. That angered Dutch and he pointed a finger at the woman and stepped forward.

"No! You do NOT tell my people what to do anymore!"

Dutch bellowed in true anger. The ego on the woman to assume she could sit there and command them in front of him. A massive roar in the crowd bellowed out in reaction, cheers for the DLA and jeers for Decou. It made his heart soar in pride of he people as they did, and he pulled out his pistol from its holster. And pointed it right at the Baroness' chest. The crowd hushed, and he heard his DLA behind him disarm the guards. Forcefully. Dutch liked that, just like they had planned. His only real worry was where Shaw slunk off to. Nothing that man did was ever good for the DLA. How he had wanted to put a slug in that Mandalorian bastard...

[Poludnica]

A shout yelled in his ears. A very familiar voice. It was Siala for sure, especially with all the strange machine metaphors. Lucca winced, his face pale and sweaty, clearly in pain but the boy still tried to get up, clenching the metallic edge. ”I am fine.” He snapped but only when the Republic medic gave him something the world stopped looking like one, large blur. The boy pulled himself back and looked after Dutch who was already leaving. It was not his fight anymore, Lucca knew there was no way he could fight, not with his skills and wound.

No, his job as different. ”I will scout the tunnels and look for the way out. Hail me when you need it.” The Echani said firmly and took few pills of a painkiller from his pocket. Even without the medic's stuff he should be good until Dutch would need him. The boy dusted his trousers and frowned at the creeping pain that was now dulled. Hopefully it would last for few hours they all needed.

Lucca watched other DLA leaving. He waved them before vanishing back in the tunnels. He put on HUD glasses and brought a map of twisting alleys. Some of them weren't used for decades, if not more. The boy prided himself in good spatial skills most of his kind had so finding a few alternative exits shouldn't be this hard. Especially when all the Sith soldiers were focused on what happened above.

Diligently, the boy began to stalk through the tunnels, taking turns and rounding corners. His jaw clenched with every step but slowly he got used to throbbing pain. Now he had to wait for the team to return. They had to return, Lucca didn't agree to any other outcome.

((OK, Lucca is waiting for whoever wants to escape with him via tunnels and route he scouted through after main stuff is done, Dutch will poke me when the time comes (: ))

[Juzt]

Siala looked down at her boots as Lucca snapped at her. Siala had been earlier in her life chatty friendly and open but events both on Arkania and Dantooine had left her pushing people away with her eccentric behaviour sometimes in a deliberate way. It distressed her that Lucca seemed to dislike her, many of the DLA she relised gave her a wide berth because they saw her as weird, but it never entered into her head that they may actually dislike her. However as one of the few remembers of the DLA apart from Dutch that she actually knew she found her self following Lucca around.

There was no point her following Dutch she was tough certainly she could take a beating but was certainly no fighter. She knew she would just get in the way, she drew herself away from Lucca when he snapped at her like she had received an electric shock. At least AS liked her, he was the only friend she needed anyway. She caressed the metal casing of his skull in her bag subconsciously. The Droid G7 she had reprogrammed stood silently its photoreceptors focussed totally on her.

“Come along friend.” She took the large viscous looking droid by its metallic hand and it went with her as docile as a puppy. She smiled at it warmly and skipped forward swinging its hand with her. Some of the members of the DLA looked at her in a terrified way as if they expected her at any moment to set it back on them. She ignored them, they did not care for her not like her droid friends so they did not matter to her. Droids were never cruel or rude and if they were hurt more often than not the could be fixed and would not die on you. People always seemed to be dying on her.


Seeing Lucca set off through the tunnels she set her jaw squarely in a determined manner that might have appeared cute if it had not come from someone so divorced from reality. Taking G7 to the entrance to the tunnels, she spoke seriously “ G7 please my friend guard the entrance to this tunnel and allow no Sith to pass.”

The droid nodded emotionlessly, “I obey.”

She smiled broadly and stood on tip toes and kissed it on the side of its metallic head. In her minds eye she saw it blush where as in reality the Droid simply looked baffled. She quickly took off down the tunnel after Lucca.

“I set G7 to cover our escape” She shouted after him unable to keep the pride out of her voice.


[]

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Nom watched as his patient popped his own pills, and the Republic medic's palm went straight to his forehead. What the hell was that guy thinking? He'd already had a full dose of top-notch military painkillers, and he could overdose by adding anything similar. He could have at least consulted to see if the medications conflicted.

And now he was walking off to go scout out tunnels or something.

Great, just great.

Now Nom had to choose whether to follow the Echani in case he suffered further, or stay behind in case anyone else was injured. That was exactly the kind of choice he hated. Even triage was easier.

The sandy-haired man would just have to approach this the same way. Who needed his help the most? One person, or the whole group? That should have been an easy answer, but Nom wasn't built to accept that dichotomy. It was difficult, damned difficult.

In the end though, he knew his duty was to help the largest number of people possible. So he stayed.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" He asked no one in particular.

[Meira]

The anticipation was literally causing the small woman to twitch. So much was leading up to this, and there was so much at stake. It was one thing to plan and plot and dream of her revenge, it was an entirely different thing to find herself here, ready to act, but having to wait. Each passing sith guard caused the woman to grind her teeth together just a little harder. Her heart ached to see their blood flow. Mary was a ticking time bomb. If her country brethren didn't hurry their asses up, she'd go off without them.

But then there he was, spotlight and all. Even Mary had stopped her fidgeting to watch as her cousin strode into the arena. For a moment, she was struck silent like those around her from the power of his presence. But only for a moment. "DLA!" he cried, throwing a fist into the air. Others from all over echoed the call. Then the anthem played and there was no holding back the cheers. Mary took the opportunity to set the tone by example. While a nearby guard was busy trying to subdue a rowdy man, she jumped on his back, causing the man to fall to the ground. He was immediately set upon by her fellows in the crowd and relieved of his tedious life.

As the anthem swelled and finished, Dutch had made it to the stage. Mary and more and more others in the crowd were doing their best to cause havoc when the Baroness called for silence. The crowd mostly complied, but when Dutch stopped her, Mary was to first to shout out.

"SUCK IT, YOU BI-" but she was cut short when a guard's shoulder caught her in the stomach and knocked the wind from her lungs. Mary found herself pressed into the ground under the man's weight. She screamed and kicked and clawed to free herself. She didn't want to miss what was about to happen. She had to see it.

Mo, however, did not. With the anthem playing, and Dutch's progress toward the stage relatively unchallenged, it was time for her to move. There was not much she could do from here any longer, and it was important she be in place when this was done. It was hard to pull herself away from her vantage point, as if taking her eyes off of Dutch would doom him. She knew he was beyond capable, but the helplessness had held her still. That is until one of the snipers hissed at her through the comm. Mo deftly dismantled her bow, stowing it in its protective case and disappeared down a ladder.

Through the comm, she could still hear what transpired on the stage and couldn't help but smile as she imagined it all. She wanted to stop and find a place to see when she heard the shot, but she had to move fast if she was to be in place in time. Luckily, it seemed their sweeper teams had been doing their jobs well. The passages were free of sith guards.

But then where are...

"Schutta!" That was Glitches voice. It came only a moment before a deafening peel of static went out over the comm. Mo winced, and then it was gone. "They've broken... get... chatter... TRAP!" The words might have been garbled, but they sent ice through Mo's veins. Something was very wrong.

"Dutch! What happened?" Mo cried over the comm. But before she could listen for an answer, she almost ran face first into a door as it opened into the corridor she was running through. It caught her shoulder, causing her to spin as she dashed past. The body that was coming through the door almost sent her crashing to the ground. Instead, the man's hand grabbed her wrist and began to pull her close. Mo's eyes sprang wide at the scarred stern face. Shaw!

Without thinking, Mo's palm shot up, colliding with Shaw's nose. His head bounced back from the force of it, blood immediately pouring out. He winced and grabbed his face with his free hand, but his hand that held her gripped even tighter and he twisted her arm, pulling her in close against his armored torso. Mo's eyes were wild with fear as she let out a cry of pain. She was sure she heard something give a sickly pop and she reacted on instinct, slamming the back of her head into his face once, twice. But he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back painfully. He then slipped his hand around to grab her chin as he slammed her bodily into the wall beside the door.

"Oh I'm glad I caught this one." he growled. "What's your name, pretty girl?" Shaw pulled her head back, tilting his ear toward her to hear her response. Mo clamped her teeth down onto that ear until she tasted blood. Then she bit harder and jerked her face away. Shaw cried out and slammed her head into the wall, but his grip faltered and Mo was free. She kicked away from him with all the strength she had  and dashed through the door he'd just come out of. It hissed closed behind her. She slammed the bow case into the controls over and over until it buzzed and then the control lights flickered off. From the other side, she could hear Shaw cursing and beating against the metal. She spat out the chunk of flesh she'd torn from his ear, then turned and ran.

"Get out of there!" she called over the comm to Dutch. She didn't know if the comms were still working, but she had to try. She had no idea what was going on in the arena, but it was all fubar now. Finally, she reached the speeder bike. She started it up, but every second was torture. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She revved the engine and turned toward the arena.

[Kella]

Grizzelda kept her sights centered over the Baroness's chest, right where Dutch's bullet would hit if it were true.

If Dutch gaffes there was no reason anyone has to know.

The sudden shriek of static over the comm made Grizzelda's muscles tighten. Then quiet. But something wasn't right.

She pulled back the zoom on the scope and watched the whole stage. A voice crackled back over the comm, and as it did, she watched each member of the DLA freeze like prey.

"Schutta! They've broken.... Get chatter... TRAP!"

"Sh-t," Grizzelda whispered under her breath. She knew what was coming.

The Sith guards didn't hear the message, all they saw was their captors suddenly distracted, suddenly vulnerable. So they ducked out of their captors embraces, and started to disable them with knees to the sternum and hands to the neck, as they were trained to do.

As Grizzelda had been similarly trained to do, actually, but that was clearly irrelevant.

For their misstep, the DLA men and women fought back, and soon the stage had become a chaos and tangle of bodies.

Once again, the Sith had been trained to take advantage of this, and one dropped a gasping man to lunge at Dutch.

Grizzelda shot him through the throat.

She noticed another Sith fall not far away. Bosco had made up his mind similarly.

A rapid flashing of light at another rooftop caught Grizzelda's outside of the scope. She glanced over and saw the second iteration of the message.

K S A

She and Bosco had worked out a code the week before. Kick Sith Ass.

It took her no more than three seconds to set her own long-range laser to a return message.

D F S

Damn fuggin straight.

A Sith soldier stood and raised his foot to stomp the neck of a civilian trying to jump on the stage and join the fight.

A blaster bolt through the skull changed his mind. He slumped over the civilian, who squirmed out from under and threw the corpse into the crowd, mouth distended in a manic scream.

"Fugging mobs."

She scanned the chaos to see what had become of Dutch. If he were dead she'd be very disappointed in him.

[Dutch]

"Did you stop to say hello to your cousin, Mr. Sampson?"

Baroness Decou's words were velvet poison. Her beautiful face gazed down at Dutch serenely. A most beautiful monster, the face of their struggle, the mastermind behind his people's plight. A woman such of this did not speak unless her words were carefully chosen. Innocent words enough, but their meaning was clear. He had stopped to see his kin, crucified and rotting in the city for all to see. They had all stood there in the dead of night hours earlier, side by side as they gazed up at Callum. Kind, brave Cal... Dutch had loved him like a brother, and they were raised together like brothers. He deserved so much better than what Decou had given. He deserved to be at the plantation, with the rest of their family. He deserved to be with Mary. She had wanted to take him down, and Dutch told her one of the most difficult things he had ever done. Told them to leave his cousin strung up for all to see. Dwellers within Smog City had yet to pull him down, and they had come to far to give any hint that they were within the city.

"For Dantooine..."

Dutch said, his voice echoing over the arena's speakers. He stared Decou right in the eyes, unflinching as he pulled the trigger. The slug buried itself into her heart, and the Baroness collapsed to the ground in her elegant dress. She dropped in slow motion for Dutch, his eyes still not leaving hers as the life left them. His arm holding the pistol lowered, and the crowd went quiet. Perfectly time for Dutch's comm to suddenly squeal and the man flinched, his hand clapped against that ear.

"What the-"

"Congratulations Dutch Sampson, you killed an innocent woman..."

His heart fell as he spun to gaze up at the massive monitors that stared down at them. Where once was Dantooine's flag fluttering was replaced by... Baroness Decou. She smiled serenely down at everyone, eyes cold and confident. Dutch stared at the closest monitor, his jaw set and his eyes disbelieving. It was clear that it was no recording as she awaited a response for him. He raised the pistol once more and blasted the monitor he had been staring at. Right then the counter attack started, and he spun to see his men being disabled and killed.

"No!"

Growled Dutch as his right hand dipped low to pull Buttercup from her holster. The shotgun gleamed in the arena lights as he spun to unload one of the barrels into an attacker. Two more were taken down, one to the throat and another's head popped. The snipers were a good idea indeed, he would have to thank Grizzelda for that later.

"Resist! Fight!"

"Dutch! What happened?"

"Mo! It's a trap!"

He screamed as he watched in horror as his comrades were slain and disabled before him. Dutch's heart seized within his chest. He failed them. They trusted him, and he had lead them straight into the Baroness' clutches. His head would feel numb as he turned to the crowd that watched in stunned silence. More and more his people on stage struggled, but already Sith troopers began to file into the stadium. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and out maneuvered by the Sith. Even when the DLA had the drop on them, Shaw and Decou were still one step ahead. Dutch cursed and turned to unload his shotgun's other barrel at a couple oncoming Sith. They dropped and Dutch holstered the weapon. With pistol still at hand Dutch turned to the crowd again, and held up a fist.

"FOR DANTOOINE!"

Dutch bellowed before turning and diving into the fray with fists already swinging. If he hadn't taken a hit that knocked him to the ground, he would have leaped as an answering roar of FOR DANTOOINE! shook the stadium. All at once chaos erupted. The crowd rioted, the Sith began shooting, and Dutch stared up at the night sky as blaster fire flew erratically overhead. Mo's voice suddenly filled his ear panicked.

"Get your green ass down here! DLA! Scatter! Scatter! Protect civilians if possible but get the frak OUT"

His voice roared over the comm, but was utterly unheard over the roar that filled the arena. All he had to do now, was stay alive long enough for Mo to swoop in...

[Kella]

Chaos.

They ran and fought and tangled with each other. It made a shark feeding frenzy look graceful.

The baroness fell, and Grizzelda's abated celebration was confirmed when the monitors rang out in the moment. Smart woman, turning what would have been a morale booster for the DLA into a total mindf-ck.

And it worked. There was no more order, no more coordination in the fight. Communications were down, morale was shot, the bloodbath began.

A blood bath in which Grizzelda played no small part. Sith after Sith fell to her shot, but each bolt was another meter closer the Sith got to pegging her position. She focused on clearing a path, on ushering the remaining DLA in the right direction. The Sith were starting to use tear gas on the civilians. Good, it would make it easier for the DLA to escape. She'd seen to it that the majority of the soldiers were ready to deal with some measures.

This was not something Grizzelda particularly enjoyed, playing God. Deciding who would live and who would die, leaving a man to an attacker that would eventually kill him, because he was feisty enough to provide a distraction that allowed the others to escape.

Math had never been her favorite subject.

Soon, though, a sense of mortal helplessness returned and Grizzelda was almost grateful for it. The patrol scooters were drawing closer and closer, the DLA had fully dispersed within the crowd, which was starting to succumb to fear and the pain of the gas.

She leaned back from the scope and held a button on her earpiece. "Scanner on."

A light tone sounded in response and static hummed lowly until the radio frequency came into focus.

"Crowd control is improving rapidly. Scout team?"

"Three snipers total, two sustaining fire, we're doing a rising scan keeping the angles low."

That was her cue to leave. Grizzelda had kept a thing or two from her brief tour with the Sith, radio decryption algorithm included. Such things had a way of coming in handy.

She swept her scope over the crowd one last time. There was nothing else she could do. There was nothing any of them could do, but survive.

That was important most of all for Dutch. She watched as Mo swept in on a speeder and Dutch threw himself aboard. They headed toward center city. Smart. But they weren't going to get out on their own.

She moved to pack up her rifle, but something caught her eye. A trampled balaclava, lying in the dust of the stage.

If there was a god, she prayed it save the DLA.

//OOC// And, ladies and gentlemen, this is what we call a wrap. Let the evacuation threads begin!//