2080/The Smuggler's Moon

The Smuggler's Moon
Date of Scene:	23 April 2015
Location:	Void - Super Solar System
Synopsis:	Juno Eclipse takes a few Syndicate folk to Nar Shaddaa to make a few acquisitions.
Cast of Characters:	Kotone Yamakawa, 428, 571, 754

---

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Welcome to Nar Shaddaa.

Known also as the Smuggler's Moon, this moon orbits Nal Hutta, the homeworld of the ubiquitous Hutt Cartel. Those gastropod-like aliens have their hands in everything to do with the black market and the seedy underbelly of the galaxy. One might say they have a particular knack for how to manage their own greed, and how to manipulate the greed of other sentient species throughout the galaxy. It's resulted in a fantastic outlook for their criminal empires and cartel. If it's illicit, of borderline legality, outlawed, or otherwise restricted, the Hutt Cartel probably has dealings with it.

With all that in mind, Nar Shaddaa is practically ground zero for illicit criminal activity.

The moon itself is heavily developed, overgrown with city sprawl that's been there for millennia. Unlike Coruscant, Nar Shaddaa's cityscape is run-down, dangerous, filthy and polluted, and absolutely infested iwth every sort of crime imaginable everywhere one turns.

In other words, grab a friend. The place is probably dangerous even to Elites, or at least those who aren't smart about how they do things.

Near one of the "public" hangars, there is a Starling-class starship parked at a spaceport, guarded by what looks like a very fearsome Wookiee armed with a large laser rifle. (It's not actually a Wookiee, just PROXY doing his best Wookiee impersonation, but none of the locals need to know that.) It's painted flat black, with a stylised Corellian razor hound in full stride painted on each side in a flat blue. It's missing its laser cannon. It's also packed full of all sorts of computational equipment, a small cargo hold with netting holding up stuff in the corners, and a comfy pilot's chair.

Stretching and climbing out of that chair is one Juno Eclipse, disguised today in the usual manner when she runs unaffiliated operations – white tunic-like shirt tucked into dark leggings, reinforced leather jacket, gloves, a blaster holstered at each hip, blonde hair tied up in a plain horsetail. She still has a pair of dark-tinted flight goggles pulled over her face, but that could be because Nar Shaddaa is full of neon and lights, and it's a bit much even for the pilot.

She's waiting in the port, arms folded as she waits for the rest of the night's group to arrive.

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Worn, dirty, corrupt, decadent.

This world is no different to Alexis than Neo-Fuji, only without the vineer of civilization and class in the upper levels. As the criminals rule this world, Alexis is prepared for the worst. She looks out to observe the city skyline as the ship hits port, and she smooths out her coat as she grabs an X95 Tavor from her lap, slinging the rifle across her chest.

Taking a breath, the cyborg dons her sunglasses as she stands up and pops her neck. "Here goes." murmurs Alexis.

As Kaz docks near Juno's own vessel, "So I'm on the ship, huh?"

"Yep." Alexis nods, before she begins synching to comms. "I'll be on touch, keep an eye on local chatter if you can. Keep me posted, kid."
"Right."

The cyborg's heavy boots announce her arrival as she makes her way towards Juno at the docks. "Evenin', Blackout." She gives a salute towards the pilot, then eyes the holographic hairbag standing guard on the Starling-class.

"Who else we waitin' for?"

HK-47 (754) has posed:
It is familiar... and yet, unfamiliar. A very strange contradiction that even he, with his sophisticated processors, has some light issue fully taking in.

While he has been on Nar Shaddaa before, HK-47's version of it exists in this particular timeline's distant past – 4,000 years ago, by the current galactic standard – making the droid feel as though something had indeed been lost, alternate reality that it was for him.

That was not to say that everything had changed, though.

The ever-present corruption and mass-degradation that HK remembered as being the mainstay of the so-called "smuggler's moon" was still present. One could see it everywhere they went – the dilapidated buildings, the dingy streets, the ill-lit alleyways, the beggars and random degenerate meatbags wandering aimlessly through the streets and walkways, their delightfully hollow and empty faces all but begging for the release a blaster bolt to the cranium could provide – or at least that's what the droid chose to believe was the case. Signs of the bloated flesh-sacks that were the hutts and their deep control were visible everywhere in the form of adverts, gang patrols and cartel-operated guard droids, space as they were on the unregulated yet not-quite-lawless world.

But for everything that was the same, something was different – the cities had been built up much more densely then the droid's memory core had recorded them being, and the population count seemed to have increased considerably as well. Traffic lanes were increased as well. And, of course, there were messages pertaining to the current reality's equivalent to the Sith Empire – a "Galactic Empire" that was ironically formed from the Republic in a delicious form of irony.

No more ironic then the fact that it would be a 4,000 year old droid from another Empire that would once again stalk these nostalgic streets.

He arrived on this world via shuttle, wishing to take the 'scenic route' to get a better feel for his new surroundings. And now, after roughly an hour of walking through the crowds he finally saw the landing pad, with a wookiee standing beside the organic termed "Blackout" – his temporary Master for this mission, due to her assumed knowledge of this new post-Sith Nar Shaddaa. Moving as cautiously as he could, the droid sauntered up to the landing pad, coated in a large cloak that disguised his artificial form. He lowered the cloak as soon as he was close enough to ensure Blackout would recognize him... and close enough to avoid any sudden moves she'd make should she get the urge to try and blast him.

Honestly – were all meatbags so irrational over a few strategic deaths during a raid mission?

"Greeting – It is a distinct pleasure to see you again, codename 'Blackout.' Or I should say, 'Master', as I shall refer to you while we are on Nar Shaddaa. HK-47 is ready and eager to serve."

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone had been curious about the world that Juno was from. She's using world in a very simple way given how many habited planets there are, where Juno's from after all. So here she was on Nal Hutta, she'd understood it was a hive of scum and villiany that had a love child with Vegas. So she had an idea of she was going into a dangerous place after. She was samrt enough to not come alone she had well dressed up a bit, manging to get some more cheap local clothing to cover up a bit but well she is armed with a sold thower and a knife on her somewhere. Then again she does have overclock if she really gets into trouble, right?

"Hey Blackout, Alexis."

She grins a little bit and hten pauses at HK for a moment peering at the droid she doesn't know him and she wonders whom he it is.

"Hi there...you are?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The criminals run Nal Hutta, too, but nobody bothers visiting that place. Why bother, when everything a criminal could ask for is already present on the Smuggler's Moon? Just about anything and everything illicit finds its way here. Or starts here, and radiates outward, like some kind of ground zero for black market trade.

It kind of is, when it comes down to it.

Juno leans against the nearby berth, arms folded; while she waits, she absently checks one of her blaster pistols, although she doesn't need to. She'd stripped, cleaned, and tuned the weapons earlier, and she generally keeps them in excellent repair.

The pilot glances up, arching a brow as Maaka clomps down from the docks. There's no real mistaking that stride; nobody else she knows has so heavy a footfall as the cyborg. Galen is heavier than she is, but he moves almost silently; PROXY's movements are the buzz and chatter of servomotors and other components.

"Maaka." She gives a languid, two-fingered salute. "Not sure. I heard Yamakawa had some interest, and that weird droid was also coming... great," she mutters under her breath. "Not so lucky he'd get lost, am I?"

She's watching HK-47 veeeery closely, to go by the way her mouth turns down a little. Especially the fact that he uncloaks in their midst. That doesn't win her very many points, but to her credit, she doesn't try to shoot him on sight.

There are a lot of things she could say to him.

After filtering through about three or four different lines, she settles on the simplest one.

"I'm not your master and I don't care what you do here," she snaps to the 'protocol' droid. "The people living here are the dregs of the galaxy, in the flesh, and I've no doubt they'll try to kill us at least twice. Just try not to raise too much of a ruckus. I'd rather not upset the Hutts."

"Yamakawa." Juno raises a hand to the newcomer; grateful, perhaps, for a distraction from the creepy droid. "Welcome. Here, HK-47, you can follow Yamakawa for a while or something." The pilot makes shoo-y motions.

Pushing off from the wall, she strolls down to the exit, and through into the city itself.

Nar Shaddaa is polluted, noisy, and the stench is pretty terrible. It's full of neon, advertisements, people making noise, drunkards, drug addicts, criminals, thieves, and other undesirables.

In other words, it looks about the same as it always does.

Beckoning for the others to follow, she leads them through a labyrinthine series of alleyways, seemingly on the lookout for something. "I'd stay close. People here'll kill you as soon as look at you."

HK-47 (754) has posed:
As always, HK-47's actions, no matter how practical, seem to have earned him the ire of his meatbag coordinator. However, there is little he can do about the issue besides dutifully follow orders... even if the order is a transfer of command rights. Dutifully, he falls in step behind the organic 'Kotone.'

"Assurance – Oh, do not worry, organic 'Blackout' – I am very well-acquanted with the desire to crush an errant meatbag's windpipe when they enact a dissatisfactory action. Which, for the record, is presently quite often."

"Observation – The local quantities of organic refuse mulling appears to be rather dense, yet it is nothing that a well-placed incendiary grenade could not fix, sending them scattering like insects. Addendum – The piles of debris could be slightly harder to remove, if any of it has obstructed local pathways.

"Query – What precisely is our target?"

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
The salute is returned, and Alexis is pretty glad to see Kotone arrive as well. It'll be a help on the nerves to have a friendly face present, even if she'll have to be watching Kotone's back this whole time. SLavers and sleazebags everywhere would consider a pretty girl, even a cyborg, a prime target. Thankfully they don't target groups, and certainly not people heavily armed to the teeth either.

The assassin droid gets a funny look as Alexis looks HK-47 as well, scanning its specs to try and figure the literal killing machine out. The fact he just showed up out of nowhere, without even a jammer or cloaking device, is worrying, given how easily he snuck under even Alexis' radar.
[Did he just—] Kaz's voice sputters over comm. [Jeez, that's some droid. Speech processor is primitive, but everything else is bleeding edge.]
[I hear you. Any intel on this thing?]
[Nothing, it's a ghost. Watch your back, Alex. I don't like this one bit.]

She does follow Blackout, keeping close to Kotone as she eyes the crowd as they make their way towards the city proper. Given her armaments, Alexis may get some funny looks given she's using slugthrowers in a world full of honest to god laser guns.

"Or worse, if this planet's got a thriving trafficking operation going on here." She says, eyeing a particularly sleazy looking passer-by and a comely alien girl on a literal leash.

"So what's the story on tin man, Blackout? Friend of yours?" She asks the pilot, regarding HK.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The more HK-47 posits hypotheses about how to get rid of the 'organics,' the more Juno reaches up and pinches at the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"Look, just stop talking. Or at least stop talking to me," Juno snaps over her shoulder, not even bothering to look back at HK-47. "I don't want to hear it. And I'm going to be busy in a moment, making sure we don't have any unwelcome company as long as we're here."

Reaching up, she taps at the comm earpiece she's wearing, muttering into it.

[PROXY, what have you got on sensors?]

[Nothing as of yet, Captain Eclipse. Shall I instigate an open search through the most commonly-used frequencies?]

[Not yet. Just keep an eye out on visuals, and make sure we haven't got anybody following us.]

[Yes, Captain Eclipse.]

[Thanks, PROXY.]

[Of course, Captain Eclipse. My master was very clear that I am to assist you in any way, when I am not following his orders.]

Thumbing the comm device off, Juno grins a sour little grin. "Good," she mutters to herself, "because your master's going to be very cranky if anything happens down here."

Raising her voice, she addresses the others. "We don't have a 'target,' per se. We're here to make a few acquisitions. Yamakawa and Maaka want to get their hands on a few blasters, and Nar Shaddaa is the best place to have a look around." She doesn't have any particular qualms about the legality of them. Not her circus, not her Kowakian monkey-lizards.

In answer to Kotone's and Maaka's questions, Juno thumbs back at the slightly sinister droid. "That's HK-47. I don't know what joker owns him, but he's tagging along because... actually, I don't know why he's tagging along. He's very earnestly not my droid. In fact, I'm not sure who owns him. Somehow he keeps winding up my responsibility." Her tone of voice suggests she's less than pleased about this coincidental habit. "Thriving trafficking? Heh. Think of the worst thing you can think of, and then multiply it by tne or twenty, and you might get some loose idea of what Nar Shaddaa's like. Welcome to the seedy underbelly of the galaxy."

"All sanctioned by the Hutts, of course. As long as it profits them, they'll let anything happen here. It all comes down to the credits for them."

Juno abruptly turns, heading down a dim alley. A casual motion plucks one of her blasters from its holster with a flourish, twirling it by the finger guard, flexing her fingers around the grip. She won't need to be firing it, hopefully, but it'll be a clear deterrent. "This way. There's a weapons shop I know of up this way, if it's still around. 'Businesses' can turn over pretty quick here."

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa is in a good mood but she's also wary she looks the droid she does not know at all over for a moment HK-47? That sounds almost like a weapon serial number, one that's a lot like an old weapon that's infamous in her world to this day. She nods a little bit.

"I plan to keep close iun a place like this. Wait what?!"

She peers at HK for a moment staring at him and his suggestion. She however is very much aware of the slaver idea and she sadly however does not know a restraining bolt might work on her body. Still she keeps close to the group now and she's looking about the place. She keeps her digital defence up but is also checking the local net for ads and hints to where they might find what they are looking for.

"A culture with this much tech turning to slavery is disturbing."

However it seems Juno knows where they are going, she's also curious about thier armor too even if she doesn't need it? XCOM's R&D people could learn from it.

HK-47 (754) has posed:
At this point, HK-47 decides that, given the relatively small size of the group, he ought to be somewhat more... talkative. Although that doesn't mean he is going to enunciate the existence of his assassin protocols, but perhaps knowing that he has knowledge of firearms would be beneficial.

"Explanation – I am a personal assistance droid, tailored to fit my Master's needs... in full accordance to all of this world's regulations regarding droid limitations. My current mission is personnel defense of codename "Blackout," due to services rendered by her to the Galactic Empire – most likely as a private retainer of some sort. Statement – However, I cannot confirm her current status with the Empire sadly, due to the Empire's business transactions with independent parties being classified to a humble droid such as myself... no matter how many death threats the information handlers or their families received."

"Supplication – However, you should be pleased to know that I have had a good deal of personal experience with hutts before – in fact, I was once the personal assistance droid for one Bouchaba the Hutt, during which I had a very lucrative and gratifying career solving many of his more troublesome problems... until a retaliatory incident that killed him in an a very artfully done way, if I do say so myself – even with the miracle of modern processing equipment, there were reports of organics reliably fishing pieces of Bouchaba out of their soups for weeks after his death was ordered by the Hutt Cartel. A process I have yet to learn about replicating."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
"Well it definitely could use a restrainer, or at least a muffler." Alexis mutters. Talkative son of a bitch is getting on her nerves as it is. She has a hand on the grip of her Tavor the entire walk, especially as she passes by skin joints, back alley doctors, peddlers of snake oil, and all other rogues. She has to turn away some catcalls intended for both herself and KOtone, dissuading them all with a withering stare that says "Go ahead, try it."

It's all she needs, as she makes sure the stroll is safe. Even if someone were to act on it, they wouldn't last a second as Kotone's ersatz big sister figure stepped in to protect her.

She gives a growl as HK keeps chattering, before she aims her rifle down the alley on reflex. Her rifle lowers, and Alexis keeps onwards as the group makes their way towards the shop. This is going to be interesting, especially since Alex has felt funny looks from the locals all trek long for bringing such primitive hardware.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa looks to the dorid and gets the idea what the term personal assistance droid means. She a bit uneasy and Blackout does get a fair bit of sypathy from her about it.

"The hutts don't mess about do they?"

Kotone is thankful she's not alone but is for what it's worth on her guard. She does wonder about this dorid and where it came from. Who builds someone like this? It's clear HK loves his job, that much is clear.

Kotone's also getting looks from what she's wearing and the fact she's carring some pretty primative weaponry herself.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The droid is something of a sore spot for the blonde pilot. It's not her first choice of companion, and if she were to take a droid with her, she would have preferred trusting her back to PROXY. And even he makes her uneasy... but she's not leaving HK-47 unattended on her ship. No force on heaven or earth is going to convince her to do that. Not even the Force, capital-F.

Juno sighs and drops her head, spreading her arms in an almost-shrug of exasperation and helplessness as Kotone does a double-take. That's the kind of thing she's been putting up with ever since the plucky, homicidal droid has taken up with her through Confederate avenues, and she's learned to stop being shocked at his apparent lack of ethics programming. No; it's become more of a constant thorn in her side, an ever-present aggravation she can't quite seem to force to shut up.

She desperately wishes she had a hydrospanner in her belt kit right now, or at least one big enough to do some damage with. A wrench would be better, but she doesn't usually carry one with her.

"Welcome to Nar Shaddaa," she says with some resignation, in response to Kotone's distress. She makes no effort to hide her Corulag accent here; nobody cares, for one, and it's not unheard of for Core Worlds residents or former Imperials to become mercenaries and smugglers. "I didn't say it would bloody well be pretty, here."

When HK-47 decides he should be more sociable, Juno is absurdly proud of herself for not making strangly-gestures. She does roll her eyes skyward, though. (She has her limits.)

"Personal assistance my left eye. You're some kind of military hardware, I'd bet my ship on it," she grumbles, under her breath. "I think you must've gotten your programming confused. I haven't got anything to do with the Galactic Empire," she adds, glancing over her shoulder to cast the droid a withering look. "Got it? You seem to keep getting tripped up on that. Maybe your programming's gone pear-shaped."

She continues forward, muttering under her breath. It sounds very suspiciously like 'humble droid my arse.'

Juno absently flexes her fingers around the guard of her blaster pistol. "Try not to be too blatant about causing trouble," she cautions Maaka. "I really don't want to have to turn this into—"

There's a noise from further down the alley. And suddenly, Juno is throwing herself against the wall, yelling for the others to do the same. "Get back, get back, get back...!"

Crossfire, by the look of it, between two rival gangs; blaster fire in both green and red, peppering the alley. The noise is like worlds ending. And it doesn't look like either gang cares about the people caught in the middle of their little shootout.

Welp. If anyone was hoping for an interesting trip, here it is – they're obviously not going any further without either convincing the hooligans to stop shooting at each other, or doing a little shooting of her own. Juno obliges, firing three precise and well-timed shots into the din, but it doesn't seem like she manages to hit anything.

Curiously, though, that's all she fires, pressing herself back against the wall, ashen-faced as though she'd seen a ghost. Her head drops, and she presses the heel of her blaster-wielding hand against her right shoulder, huffing a breath. "I really hate Nar Shaddaa," she hisses, between her teeth.

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis seems disinterested in the bickering between Juno and HK, for now leaving it be as the four make their way into the alleyway. She's almost begging for something interesting to happen, just to kill the boredom.

And then she's prepared to eat those words whole and then some. THe cyborg gets into high gear, making sure to slam herself against something solid as she cocks the Tavor and braces for fun-times. Tucking her rifle in her hands, Alexis listens for the blaster fire to determine who is where, before she peeks out and takes aim at one of the thugs.

She squeezes off a couple shots, intending to penetrate armor and then break-through immediately after to shred internal organs. Either that, or just add insulting injury to injuring insult, given these small-time thugs.

"Ko, keep your head down!" She says, trying to figure out the factions here beyond just a vague mesh of gangs going at it with their blasters.

HK-47 (754) has posed:
As usual, the joys of his existence seem to bring discomfort to his fleshy meatbag allies... however, at the same time, they seem to be discomforted by something other then that.

Then he sees the combat straight ahead, and soon realizes that their path is impeded until they halt the fighting.

This had to be what organics described as a 'lucky day.'

"Interjection – I shall clear the way for you, Master. It is a known fact that a vast majority of meatbags either hesitate in fear or turn and run in a very gratifying display of abject horror at the sight, unction and implication of my blaster carbine."

And this is when the droid pulls his weapon free and pulls open his fabric cloak just enough for the others to see it's design and shape so as to affirm his combat readiness, charging it up for good measure.

A weapon that, were it not obscured to everyone but the group beneath his cloak to keep from prying eyes, would have half the street panicking at the sight of it, and hopefully frighten the warring gang members enough for them to pick them off with ease.

A weapon that carries the distinctive and unmistakable outline of what looks to be a Tenloss DXR-6 Disruptor Carbine – an energy weapon well-known for disintegrating organic targets at the molecular level, leaving nothing behind but charred skeletons laying in it's wake with each successful shot. It's design looks to be several generations older then the modern iteration, but it's got the shine of a factory-new model, with an elongated barrel for use in sniping... and with how similar it looks to the modern versions in the galaxy, it likely functions just the same, making it just as grossly illegal to carry in civilized space.

This is validated as, taking a knee behind cover, the droid aims the weapon... draws a line with the first thug he sees thanks to his enhanced optics tracking the flesh-bag's heat signature... and fires, the bright purple-white bolt speeding across the street and impacting with the unfortunate organic in the unprotected flank.

Then there is a loud sizzling and screams of pure agony ringing melodiously to HK-47's auditory receptors as the meatbag's flesh disintegrates into ash, leaving a steaming, charred skeleton that sways in place for a moment before collapsing back onto the pavement with a crunching sound akin to a hammer striking against a sample of the the substance called "beef jerky."

With that, he gives a jubilant announcement in the wake of his successful attack, already prepping his follow-up shot. "Statement – Meatbag terminated, Master!"

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa is getting the warning about getting back and get back she does at this point she hears the blaster fire, down the alley, she's heard weapons before but nothing quite like this. Part of her mind is going it feels like it's a sci fi movie, the other half knows this is real she keeps down from this she's laying low keeping a crouched profile to not get hit as eaisly then comes out a weapon okay she gets things are going to get bad but what happens from the weapon's effects leaves a stark look of horror on her face and she's mroe than a little loss for words.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
For her part, the pilot stays fetched up against the crumbling wall. It's a mishmash of building materials, and here and there rusted pieces of some kind of cheap durasteel alloy can be seen poking out of it. Still, her posture's all wrong for shooting, even though she does aim and take a potshot every so often.

Apparently resistance from the party only emboldens the criminals. Some of them can be heard shouting to take down the interlopers, which can only mean the unaffiliated party. Maybe they think they're another criminal element. The blaster fire increases, and with a hiss of breath, Juno flattens herself against the wall and takes a few more snipes at the concentrated end of the alley.

"Whatever. Just get them off our backs," Juno snaps, to HK-47. This is probably going to end badly, but it's either let him wreak merry havoc, or they all wind up shot like fish in a barrel. "And do it quick."

Maybe that was a bad idea.

Juno stares at the droid for about five seconds straight when he pulls free his blaster carbine rifle, blue eyes wide. "What," she says, but the word is drowned out by the screaming agony of disintegrating smugglers. Her eyes snap to the unfortunate wretches, staring for another few seconds, then back to HK-47 in his triumph, as though what she's seeing isn't quite computing.

After another second or two spent staring, she hisses a breath through her teeth. Maybe she should have told him to sit down and shut up until they cleared the alley. Should've known better...

In the meantime, the best she can do is keep a lookout, and make sure the criminals aren't gravitating towards that thing like moths toward extremely dangerous, incendiary fire.

"I think that's all of them." Her voice sounds a bit odd, and she pushes off from the wall, keeping an arm clapped to her side. "Let's get moving. I don't want to be here when the scavengers show up. We're not far now."

HK-47 (754) has posed:
This was, without a doubt, an exceptionally good day indeed.

The smoldering remains of the smugglers lay strewn out before HK-47 like a delightedly macabre decoration of ritualistic markers, signifying where the dead had fallen, daring any and all meatbags wielding arms to try and do what the corpses had not... or instead run away in sheer terror at the beautifully executed assassinations of the rouge fleshlings. A perfectly-executed flanking action that had caught multiple meatbags off-guard and cleared the way with little trouble.

It was moments like this that made his behavioral core glow with pride.

However, as to be somewhat expected at thus point, it seemed his organic masters were still unsatisfied with his exemplary termination of the hostile meatbags.

Even the partly-cybernetic one seemed somewhat weary of him – or perhaps that was caution; a sign of acknowledgement for his skill. Either way, it was more flattering and desirable then the looks of abject shock that organic Kotone and organic Blackout were giving him.

"Statement – Hostile units have been terminated, master. The majority of the remaining meatbags seem to have ceased firing out of shock, or have run away in a terror-induced panic. Observation – However, I cannot help but fell that you seem to be somewhat dissatisfied with this outcome, Master. Was my performance not satisfactory?"

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Maybe it wasn't such a hot idea having the walking war-crime show up for this, and I'm not talking about Alexis Maaka here.

She stares in abject horror as HK's weapon just cooks a man alive, reducing him to just burnt tissue and bone. If the other gangers have any sympathy in them left, they might be horrified as well once they see what a disruptor rifle does to someone on 'medium' settings.

"Jeezus." She remarks, before she goes back to focusing on the shootout itself. A burst here, a headshot there, and Alexis swaps magazines as she stands and begins to move. "We better get moving." She agrees with Blackout, letting the rest of the hostiles make a run. "How much further from the shop are we?" She asks, beginning to take point just in case.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Oh it was cautionto be sure, HK could rip her apart in a moment and she has no doubt about that. She's also pretty sure the cyber route would be nearly as abad. She gets up and looks away wishing she could blank out that memory however it will never fade the curse of her agumented brain's near perfect recall. She will hopefully just not need to focus on it again.

"I suggest you use something far less noticable that type of weapon isn't common I'd suspect. Stick to a more standard blaster."

There was just something about it something that struck on how she ended up a bit of brain in basically a droid body. She sayd nothing after that and keeps moving...

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The droid is given an unpleasant look, but Juno seems disinclined to comment on his behaviour. "We're not far," she murmurs, scanning the buildings with a critical eye. Nar Shaddaa's real estate is constantly changing hands, but there are usually landmarks in a loose sense to home in on. "It was close to this area, I'm sure of it. I remember because it was one of the few that's managed to last more than a few months."

The pilot takes about three strides forward, arm still clapped to her side, before she steps sideways and staggers into the wall again, doubling over.

"Ghh." The sound she makes is more a huff of breath than anything else. Her arm draws away from her side, and it's stained red when it does. A messy hit; not quite direct enough to cauterise the wound it made. "Son of a bitch, the bastards hit me after all. I was hoping that was a graze."

She waves the others ahead with her blaster. "I'll be fine. It's not deep. Get going; we're not far now. I've got medical supplies on the Slice Hound I can use later. Second door on the right up there," she adds, holstering her blaster and pointing. "The one with the blaster rifle stenciled on the wall."

It's a poor likeness at best, but it's enough that most people can figure out what it's supposed to be.

"Shopowner's a Bothan. Name's Yatharl. Bothans enjoy politics and subterfuge, but he likes credits well enough." She gestures almost dismissively towards the door, stumbling in and kicking it open for the others to follow.

It's a surprisingly clean and organised storefront, with racks upon racks of gleaming, refurbished, repaired, and cleaned weapons. Behind the simple durasteel counter is a small Bothan on a stool, a furred and short-statured humanoid with upright dog-ears and a dog-like muzzle, sharp teeth, and yellow eyes. He has a pair of elabourate loupe glasses on his head, and a few cleaning tools in hand, at work on a disassembled blaster pistol. The store smells of sterilisers and cleaning solvents; weapons oil and durasteel.

"Blackout." His acknowledgement is a little sour. "You smell like blood," he comments sourly, to Juno; his yellow eyes fix on her with apparent disdain. "Don't bleed on any of the merchandise. Who are your friends?"

"A few business associates who're interested in your merchandise."

The Bothan grumbles something unclear. "Mind your manners. Have a look around. If anything catches your eye, let me know."

He seems pretty unconcerned by the variegated group that Juno brings in through the door.

"Have you got any bacta behind the counter, Yatharl?"

Without a comment, he reaches under the counter with one hand and tosses a patch-looking object to Juno. She snatches it from the air, peels off the backing, and sticks it to the rapidly-spreading bloody spot scored along one side, sighing in relief. "Better. Thanks."

The Bothan grunts something apathetic, not even looking up from his work.

"Well, have fun, people." Juno leans against the counter, prodding at her side gingerly. "I don't need anything here, but take your time and look around."

HK-47 (754) has posed:
Of course his efforts were unappreciated. Such was his lot in life. However, as his master ordered, HK-47's damnable absolute loyalty programming commanded.

"Resignation – Yes, master. I shall endeavor to stick with something a bit less efficient. Perhaps my slugthrower darts shall be placid and meek enough for your tastes. Or my neural scrambler stun-ray?"

Upon seeing Blackout stumbling, he freezes up – if his master dies, he shuts down automatically, and while his programming currently recognizes both Blackout and Kotone as his 'Master,' he does not wish to risk anything. However, he lets the matter slide after seeing that it is not a fatal wound.

arriving at the rather unobtrusive shop, HK soon understood the reason for the shop's cleanliness – bothans were notoriously, obnoxiously persnickety.

However, that also meant they likely would have access to a reliable source of information and materials.

"Greeting – Salutations, fur-covered fleshba, – ah, fur-coated organic. Query – Do you possess any comparable upgrades for a Disruptor Carbine of high-caliber class? Addendum – Do you also have access to the most recent medical terminology databases and organic multi-species almanacs? It seems that things have changed significantly here compared to my own home, and I wish to make sure I am up to date on all the most efficient methods of... access, to the vital points of organic meatbags from all species.

Addendum – Also, perhaps you could give an appraisal as to the cost for a disposable blaster carbine for use here, as well as the estimated net value for roughly three blastech E-11 blaster rifles and possibly a DL-44 – or at least I assume that was the make of the weapons that formally belonged to the recently-deceased fleshlings from the nearby street. It is not as though they will miss them, after all."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Annnnnnnd time for shopping. Some girls like shoes, others like jewelery, Alexis Maaka likes both /and/ high-powered, top of the line firearms. She stays professional as she releases her rifle and lets it hang over her shoulder, and she removes her shades. The cyborg gives a nod to the fuzzy looking alien guy, before she gives Kotone a wink just as the guns are put on display.

If she were less self-disciplined, she'd be grinning and giggling like a schoolgirl who just got asked to prom by the hottest guy in homeroom. So instead, she gives an impressed look at the varied firearms on display to be purchased.

Her eyes glance towards a pistol looking vaguely like a Mauser C96, which she scans. Kaz recieves a video feed of the gun, and runs references.

Blastes DL-44 heavy blaster pistol. High accuracy and firepower, but a nasty kick and a low power battery that only takes about twenty-five shots or so to drain a power pack. She takes the pistol if allowed, finger off the trigger and everything, and she tests the heft of the gun. "Hmmm..."

Her eyes also glance over some Clone Wars era surplus pieces, still in good condition for kit old as this.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa is just trying to keep out of this, this is a bad place she knows it and she doesn't want to think about what she saw, she nods to Blackout and keeps moving for the store, hopefully Yatharl will still be there and is going to be easy enough to deal with. In luck things seem to be well? As Blackout hpped the owner did there. She looks them over nodding a little bit.

"Humm I know one thing I'm looking for, likely side arms, with an stun setting. In my line of work, having non lethal options is a bonus."

She also sleeps better at night with those as well. She now starts to look ove the weapons as she starts to seeks out for pistols and maybe a rifle. She's getting the idea having a well rounded armory on the Bluenose isn't a bad idea at all. She is thankfully gets her spirits lightened a bit by Alexis's wink and she's now looking over the weapons, mmm directive energy weapons. XCOMs stuff was good but she knew they only had so many. She did not want to take gear that should be in the squaddies hands, right? She's also looking over the old Clone Wars surplus and ios eyeing a pair of pistols there also eying some of the old standard issue rifles.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The Bothan seems unimpresed by the droid's transparent-as-glass attempts at cozening him. He watches the others, his expression somewhere between distaste and boredom. So far they don't seem inclined to damage any of the merchandise, and so he continues his cleaning in silence.

He must be an older Bothan. His fur has more of a greyish cast to it, with bits of white at his temples and along his muzzle; one ear has a piece missing from it, despite his neat grooming and simple but well-tailored clothing.

Juno, for her part, settles for leaning against the counter with her head down, opening her jacket and resettling the bacta patch against the shredded edge of her tunic and the ragged wound past that. It's unspeakably painful, but she's pretty surprisingly good at being a trooper through ungodly pain. Her jaw muscles are working, and the others might hear her teeth creaking in the quiet, but she otherwise doesn't make a peep.

"My name is Yatharl. Use it." The Bothan all but glares over his glasses at the droid, setting aside his tools to place his clawed fingers flat on the counter; scowling his displeasure. "Yes, I heard the scuffle outside. I have no upgrades at this time, or at least nothing you could afford—"

"I'm not buying you anything," Juno growls.

"—and furthermore, I would sooner not attract the attention of the Hutt Cartel, selling items like that." Yatharl sniffs, disdainfully. "I do have a copy of the current medical databases and a few almanacs, but it's going to cost you."

"Still not buying you anything," Juno growls.

His yellow eyes swivel over to the others, before returning to the weapons HK-47 had at some point 'relieved' the criminals of. The Bothan frowns as he studies them, reaching up and stroking the moustache-like end of his muzzle in thought. "E-11. Cheap," he sneers, dismissing them out of hand. His attention does turn to the DL-44, though, apparently considerably more interested. "DL-44. BlasTech, solid and reliable. Someone will pay good money for that." He considers the weapon for a few seconds. "Four hundred credits. Or, the almanacs and medical index are yours in exchange for that." One claw-nailed finger points at the DL-44. "Your choice."

"They won't fire," the Bothan adds distastefully, to Maaka. "I have everything in this shop locked down. So if you try to steal anything, congratulations, you'll have a handful of useless durasteel and plastoid. You make a purchase, I reactivate them, everyone goes home happy."

Juno chuckles under her breath, but it cuts off with a wince. Ow. "He has the best selection, and I can personally guarantee his work—"

"How kind of you," Yatharl snorts sarcastically.

"—and his prices are fair." As long as one is buying, and not selling, anyway. Juno claps a hand to her side and shuffles over to where Alexis inspects a few Clone Wars relics, tilting her head to look down at them. "Solid, but if you buy something that old, I'm not sure where you're going to take it for repairs. Unless you feel like returning to Nar Shaddaa." That is to say, getting jumped by the criminal locals again. "If you want something you're going to use hard, I recommend a BlasTech. They might not pack the biggest punch, but they're reliable."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis is actually quite a fine customer, and she's been following the tennents of gun safety this entire time. The DL-44 is pointed in a safe direction, with Alex's finger off the trigger, and it's thankfully unloaded. She offers the gun over to the storeowner, grip first, after a brief twirl around in her hand.

"I'll take this piece, good heft and feel. Maybe one of those blaster carbines while you're at it." She motions towards a much beefier piece, slender but with a scope and a solid enough stock and pistol grip. "Unless there's something about it I should know, anyway, like power issues or something about poor materials." Her hand reaches out to grasp the carbine, before glancing to the Bothan. "May I?"

If she may, she'll take the gun, finger off the trigger and muzzle aimed floorward as she tests the feel of the stock against her shoulder, and she sights down the scope.

HK-47 (754) has posed:
While the meatbag does not display the sort of respectful fear that he prefers, HK is capable of respecting the bothan for his courage in the face of one who could easily end his pathetic life. However, the organic at least recognizes a... somewhat fair bargain. Although he feels as though the organic is cheating him – but then again, one could make that speculation of any meatbag shop vender and likely not be far off the mark.

"Affirmation – Very well, organic Yatharl. We have an agreement – the blasters for your medical index and almanacs."

After acquiring the new units, he gives them a cursory examination to ensure there are no traces of viral contaminants before plugging the indexes into a data-reader, quickly catching himself up on the most up-to-date medical terminology for this alternate future incarnation of his galaxy.

Once satisfied that his understanding of medicinal techniques have been fully updated, the droid gives a prompt response –

"Statement – This transaction is now concluded."

"Observation – That pistol seems a very reliable make. In my experience, accuracy is perhaps even more important then pure destructive force, although no aspiring hunter should pass up the chance for both. Query – Are we to test our new acquisitions on the dregs of Nar Shaddaa's meatbag population, Blackout? You did say that you did not care what was done, so long as the Hutt Cartel was not antagonized."

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa is busy looking over the weapons at this point as she looks over a lot more of the Clone Wars era hardware she takes the note of blastek and she pauses at a pair of DC-17s hand blasters that seem to be in good working order. She seems to like what she sees simple efficent a good load of ammo which is beyond what any sold slug weapon from her world can cary easily. She humm also checking out a DC-15S.

"Humm what are the prices on these and as you noted these are blastech models."

She's also now checking the pistols for weight and seems to have no issue dual weilding them. She however is treating them like they are armed as anyone who knows a lick about a gun or anything akint one? Always assume it's loaded.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
So long as she seems to conduct herself safely, the Bothan has no concerns about the customers currently invading his shop... but it's not because he cares about them or anything. He cares about his merchandise not being damaged. And not having to pay for building repairs. Do you know how much building repairs cost in a crapsack place like Nar Shaddaa? Seriously.

"An excellent choice." For all that, though, Yatharl doesn't sound particularly interested. He'll rattle off the cost in galactic credits, which is thankfully not too bad, and only slightly gouged over wherever such a weapon might have originally come from. Only a little! To her question of testing the wares, he flicks a claw-nailed hand indifferently.

Juno seems content to lean against the counter, watching the others, and particularly keeping an eye on HK-47, because if she doesn't God knows what he's going to do.

"I'll take that." Yatharl plucks the blaster from the droid, turning it this way and that, frowning as he examines it with a critical eye and muttering quietly to himself as he do–

"NO." Juno's head snaps around, and she all but barks the command to HK-47. "We were attacked out there; that's one thing, but if you're going to go looking for trouble out here, you're going to do it by yourself!" She covers her face with her arms, hands curled over the back of her head, in a posture of abject torment. "Ughhh, what did I /do/ to get shackled with this damned droid?"

"Look at the cards." The Bothan squints at Kotone, something unpleasant in his regard. "Surely you can read numbers, although I'm fairly certain you're out-of-towners." That is to say, multiversal residents. "If you can't read the numbers, have Blackout read them for you; she's from around here. Isn't that right, Blackout?" The Bothan's sour look at her suggests he's either ribbing her in his own sour way, or maybe they get to learn something about the 'mercenary' pilot.

Juno just shrugs, although she immediately regrets the motion, hissing and clapping the bacta patch tighter against her side.

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Luckily before she got here, Alexis came prepared. Multiversal credits thankfully seem to be exchanged in for something more usable in this neck of the multiverse, and Alexis produces a couple credsticks that dial up a pretty sizable number. She also looks over some ordinance; detpacks, droid-popper EMP grenades, thermal detonators, lots of fun stuff. She'd be eyeing vibroblades too, if she didn't have one that folded comfortably to clip onto her belt like a little flashlight.

Staring at HK for a moment, Alexis kind of just shoots Blackout a symapthetic look until she goes back to reading the cards some more, to pick out some new fun toys of murder and mayhem. Disruptor rifles however, those are too damned cruel even for her to use on someone, or something for that matter.

Flechette guns meanwhile, ooooooh. The hypocrisy and moral flexibility that is Alexis Maaka at work, folks. "'Golan Arms Flechette gun', now we're talkin'." She says, examining the very blocky and no doubt quite heavy weapon for a moment.

HK-47 (754) has posed:
At the words of Blackout, HK-47 becomes somewhat indignant, taking a step toward the seated human. "Objection – But Master! Were it not for me, you would still likely be embroiled in a costly slog against those unscrupulous meatbags in the streets! Your current condition alone is evidence to the fact that, were it not for my finely tuned combat algorithms, you may have suffered even worse injuries."

"Recollection – Why, in our very first outing together, was I not instrumental in cleaning a path for you then as well? Moreover, you were the one that gave me permission to retaliate against the unaffiliated liquidious flesh-bags obstructing our pathway, did you not?"

Then, the droid's optical sensors focus on Blackout's injured flank. "Query – How long was that injury bleeding? Has it left any biological trail? Speculation – if so, we may soon be traced by any observers of the recent slaughter in the streets, as scavengers – hopefully – try to follow what they may assume to be a wounded member of the dispersed thugs, only to be greeted by several charged and readied blaster carbines... which I would be more then happy to spearhead, Master."

Seeing the weapons brandished by the other organics, HK gives his own appraisal as he looks them and their data cards over. "Appraisal – DC-17 Blaster pistols, standard-issue for Clone Elites, Commanders and ARC Troopers. Reliable firepower and penetration strength, compensated for fire-time by twin usage. FC-1 Golan Arms Flechette gun – multi-part projectile weapon loosely based on the slugthrower weapon known as the 'shotgun' with two distinct types of flechette pellets; armor-piercing and flesh-penetrating. Very effective at close range – one point-blank shot should be capable of completely eviscerating an organic target with one shot."

"Appraisal – I recommend we lead with this weapon on the way back."

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa takes a moment and checks her translation software she takes a moment and notices she missed a patch, she takes a moment grabs the patch and looks very sheepish at the owner.

"Please forgive me, sir."

She'll check over the prices now. She looks them over and she's going to go for the pistols at this point. She did have the seen to get credits before she came here it seems. HK's words just get her more uneasy. Still his information is useful ans it does do away with any doubts about it. She lets the other heavier weapon go. The pistols would work well even if she only used one, the other could be a source of parts if it came down to it, right? Or serve as a simple backup. She might also look to pick up proper holster for them and the gear needed to recharge the weapon's clips, or analog of them.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The Bothan, thankfully, doesn't seem interested in interrupting Alexis' shopping. In point of fact, once it's clear that she's capable of entertaining herself, he hops back up on his stool and gets back to cleaning the blaster pistol he'd been so carefully working on.

"Oh, shut up!" Juno snaps, reaching up and pinching at the bridge of her nose. She really has to wonder what kind of person would build a droid like that. Really, how could someone stand it? What sane person builds a droid with such an aggravating personality module without eventually trying to take a wrench to the droid's cranium?

To the injury, she glances down, scowling. "Not long. And it hasn't left any blood. Will you shut up, now? You're not to attack anything else, even if we're attacked. Got it? Not until I release custody of you once we're finished with this mission."

Bloody bucket of bolts.

The Bothan, meanwhile, doesn't bother responding to Kotone; he just flicks a claw-nailed hand in that indifferent gesture of his.

"Let's try to wrap this up soon. I am still bleeding, and as much as I hate to admit it, the droid's right. I don't want to leave a blood trail—"

"Not in my store," Yatharl grumbles.

"—and in case you hadn't noticed, Nar Shaddaa is filthy and I really don't want to court infection. I'll leave the coordinates with you in case any of you want to come back here."

"Wonderful," Yatharl sighs, despondently. "More off-worlders. Perfect. I'll be cleaning for weeks. You owe me, Blackout."

"Put it on my tab," the 'mercenary' says, with a pain-taut grin. She turns to the others. "Just let me know when you're all ready."

With that, she hobbles to a corner, leaning against the wall and bowing her head, thumbing at the commpiece over her ear, whispering into it quietly.

[PROXY, give me a sensor reading.]

[I have nothing on sensors at the moment, Captain Eclipse. Will you be leaving soon? I have had Imperials asking after your whereabouts.]

[What kinds of Imperials?]

[Crew of the Empirical.]

[Lord Vader?]

[Negative, Captain Eclipse. But I would suggest that you and your friends conclude your business soon.]

[Two steps ahead of you, PROXY. Let Starkiller know I'll be arriving in the Citadel soon.]

[Yes, Captain Eclipse.]

Thumbing the unit off again, she glances up to watch the others as they admire Yatharl's stock, folding her arms and letting one drop to hold the bacta pad in place with a wince. She might look reasonably at ease, but damn if that doesn't hurt like mad. It'll be good to have a proper medic look it over once she's gotten back to the Citadel, after their little party's dispersed.

HK-47 (754) has posed:
For all the inherent flaws in organic meatbags, the one thing HK-47 could admire was their tenacity. Be it attachment, ambition, emotion or simple stupidity, they did not relent easily if given the chance to fight back.

That being said, they were still ridiculously frail things to deal with, and as such, HK felt obligated to ensure the injured half of his effective pair of masters was preserved. Therefore, as they left the bothan's shop and marched back to the ship, HK couldn't help but keep an observatory watch on Blackout's condition from beneath his hooded cloak.

While watching her hobble on could be considered inspiring to some meatbags... HK was beginning to find it somewhat irritating how slowed down she was by the damage to her chassis, and opted to try and offer assistance

"Supplication – If your injuries are too severe to facilitate proper movement, I can utilize one of my repair kits. While not technically suited to your inefficient non-compartmentalized frame, the steel-bonding reagents and flash-sodering tool ought to cauterize your injuries enough for you to function on your legs long enough to return to your ship. Addendum – It will also stem the loss of your bodily fluids and the intense heat should disinfect your injuries."

In a smooth movement, he pulls out a small repair-kit pouch, moving closer to Blackout until he was walking in stride with her, holding the toolkit aloft. "Placation – Now, if you could just stand still for a millisecond and allow me to assess the damage..."

However, the expression he received for his generosity was not quite what he expected, and if it were possible, he would have sighed in exasperation.

Meatbags. Couldn't function with them. Couldn't function without them.

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis seems perfectly satisfied with her choices in firepower. One DL-44, a DC-17 as a backup (easy to hide in a waistband holster), a flechette shotgun that could be easily used as a blunt instrument of murder, an accurate little rifle, and also thermal detonators and power packs. Thankfully the tab's been taken care of with a little bit of chatting, and Alexis is good to go.

"You gonna be okay, Blackout?" She asks, regarding Juno's wound for a moment with concern for a fellow professional operator of a freelance nature...somewhat. A lesser being would be a bit daunted carrying this much hardware around.

But this isn't most people, this is Alexis Maaka, the walking dervish of death from bullets and explosions. And other things.

She does give Juno a 'sucks to be you' look after considering HK's offer for a moment.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa handles buying her weapons anbd the related gear and isn't going to just look about any more she gets Juno needs to get that wound looked after, right? She should be able to put the pistols to good use. They did seem to suit her and the stun option will make Ko's life a lot easier with her work. Once she's done with everything she'll be ready to head out at this point. She looks over to HK for a moment.

"Blackout hey, we can get going if you need to. I'm done here."

This could a shop to tell XCOM about if they need examples of certain bits of tech for a fair price.