Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Westeria City: The Courtyard

Saarai

Saarai

Lord of Bondage and Pain
Benefactor
as written by Saarai

Before him was a grand assortment of buildings in a locale collectively referred to as the Courtyard. It was night out, and things were starting to wind down, for the most part. Arrora had "elected" to stay behind. "Shooting places up isn't my kind of thing," she had said, "You kids have fun though!" That made him simultaneously annoyed and amused; her charm was clear, but his upbringing made him cold towards those who showed cowardice and reveled in inaction. Still, they wouldn't be here now if not for her, so he supposed he could forgive her.

Behind him was a group of six other mercs from the Jupiter Corporation; so-called backup. They all looked like they had seen action, but he was still passing his own judgements in regards to their ability. They kept their weapons on their respective persons, keeping them slack as to avoid any suspicion. The mission intel told them where to look for their target; a picture of the man had been saved into Thalgan's HUD. He had also been informed that keeping his weapons wouldn't be an issue. However, he still needed to be cautious.

He wanted to take them by surprise, so he would need to stay inconspicuous.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
as written by Saarai

"I got it!" John shouted as he stepped outside of the lone Irish pub in the Courtyard to clear out glasses and beer bottles left behind by the pub's patrons. They hadn't been open too long, but the pub was getting a good crowd of regulars. Especially since the other bars in the city couldn't generally afford the same protection.

The young man wore his trademark cowboy-esque hat and dark glasses despite it being night, a pistol holstered on his exposed right hip. That seemed to be all he was carrying.

The people who lived, worked, and spent their free time in the Courtyard never really needed many weapons or to be cautious. Incidents there were rare, it helped that a small army of mercenaries were always nearby just in case.

"Ciao, Emily." A man donning a grey suit vest said as he stepped outside, lazily lifting a hand to bid farewell to the remaining people in the pub. "You going to Charlotte's fight?" He asked John, running a hand through his own dark hair. The man spoke with a noticeable Italian accent.

If it wasn't for the badge on his belt, one might stereotypically assume he was some sort of Mafioso.

"I don't know, Viktor. Wrestling has never been my thing. Or public events." John answered, "You can't be so... antisocial your whole life, my friend. Live a little. It can come to an end at any time." Viktor responded, pointing to his left ear.

"The bullet moving inch by inch through my brain is a reminder of that for me. Everything you've been through should be one for you." He said.

"Yeah, yeah..." John muttered, "You want to take these inside for me? I've gotta head around back and toss in the trash." He said to Viktor, handing him the container of glasses and bottles. "Si, I got it." Viktor said, taking the container from the younger man.

Thalgan made a point not to gesture towards John and his companion. "That's our guy, on the left," he spoke to the others. They took a moment to get a look at him, nonchalantly casting glances toward him as they simultaneously scoped out the area around them. Attacking him head on was ill-advised and forbidden by Thalgan unless absolutely necessary, lest he flay them alive with his vibroknife. That was assuming they made it out of this encounter with life and limb intact.

Thalgan was trying to locate a practical sniping spot, set up with his disruptor rifle and use one of the mercenaries with him to distract John. However, he tried to reevaluate that plan, noticing the Invictus sentries posted about the area. He couldn't find a good opening.

They would have to wait for John to move away from all the extra security. Until then, Thalgan had the others spread out and pretend to be interested in the locale, so as not to attract too much unwanted attention.

"Thanks." John said to Viktor, heading towards the alleyway on the side of the building. It wasn't the most open area, but the buildings were far enough part that people had room to breathe. At least until you got to the garbage containers and smelled old leftover Irish food.

The young man headed into the pub from the side door, stepping back out after a few seconds with a large black plastic bag clearly filled with trash. He tossed it into one the garbage containers before heading back in for the rest.

Activity was winding down now that it was night, everyone save for the workaholics and night owls were heading home. One could see the beginning of a shift change in both the Invictus security and the local police assigned to the area. For a few minutes there would be less security in the immediate area.
 
as written by Saarai

Thalgan began to notice a change in the atmosphere; security was loosening up, allowing him that window he needed to set up shop and pick off his target from a decent vantage point. He spoke over the comms, signalling two of the grunts with him to watch his six while he took up a position across from the pub John would be occupying. They kept their eyes open, nonchalantly scouting the area for any would-be watchers trailing Thalgan to his sniping spot.

Across the way, in a rather remote apartment complex, Thalgan had his sights set on the interior of the pub, aiming through the scope of his disruptor rifle, finger placed lightly over the trigger with every intent to squeeze down once the target came into view. Keeping the barrel inside the window, he had to angle his placement slightly, using the curtains to hide the fact that he was there.

Below, the mercenaries kept watch, ready to open fire all about the Courtyard once shit hit the fan.

Viktor stepped back outside, immediately heading towards the black sedan parked near the pub. He jumped in the vehicle from the passenger side, popping open the glove box to dig out a bottle of pills. Painkillers. Really strong painkillers. Strong enough to deal with his persistent head pain.

The Italian man popped the top off of the pill bottle, he tipped it over and let a few fall into his palm. He sat back in his seat as he threw the pills into his mouth, waiting for them to kick in and make the drive home bearable.

Back in the alley John took the time to toss a few garbage bags out, the look on his face one of complete disgust at the smells. Garbage day couldn't come fast enough.

"Ugh..."

He shook his head and headed back inside, crossing the kitchen to end up in the bar area. There sat a young woman with blonde hair, she was counting the day's profits. At a nearby table were several men, they didn't seem to be in any rush to leave or they didn't have to.

Protection for the young blonde, maybe.

"It's all done, Emily. I'll be heading out, if you don't need me anymore." John said, taking a seat at the bar. "I think that's it." Emily told John, her light Irish accent present as usual.

"Besides, if I need more heavy liftin', me cousins are here." She continued.
 
as written by Saarai

His target in sight, Thalgan took a deep breath. The mercenaries outside were holding their ground, and were anticipating a firefight in the moments to come. However, they just needed to make sure their target was dealt with. The aftermath would be handled later. In the meantime, they tried their best to look inconspicuous, browsing the locale with faked intrigue.

Thalgan, however, was ready to carry out the deed. He had John's head in his sights, and exhaled slowly. He pulled the trigger, sending a highly destructive beam hurling through the air at light speed, faster than the eye could conceive. Time seemed to slow down for him, seemed to make him able to perceive his attack; seeming to see the beam race slowly towards his target's head.

In that moment, he felt satisfied. It was a job well done, he thought, as the beam melted its way through the window of the pub across the courtyard and into the establishment proper.

Unless John was some sort of god, his life was decidedly over.

John was no god. He could hold his own, he could take a punch. But he wasn't close to god-like. Though he did have one ability that tended to eliminate the need to take punches or really hold his own. A Spidey sense of sorts that allowed him to act before he had to react, a quick glimpse into his own future whenever harm was coming his way.

He opened his mouth to speak to Emily, but he paused before he got a word out. "You okay?" Emily asked, "Hey! Duck! Now!" He shouted, nearly diving over the counter to push Emily to the floor. He was fast, quick to move and keep Emily alive. He had to be even faster to keep himself from ending up another casualty to Wing City violence.

John rolled along the counter away from the beam, nearly throwing himself to the floor beneath a booth near the destroyed window. Were it not for 'seeing' it coming the young man would be dead.

It was moments like this that he praised his genes. He searched his body, he didn't have weapons. He looked around and saw the others in the bar crouched under a table, and then he spotted his crimson coat and the pistol in his coat pocket.

The coat had to be only fifteen feet away, but was so far when you had people trying to kill you.

Viktor was ducked down in his car, Beretta pulled from the compartment between his seats. He peeked up out of his car in search of the shooter, scanning roofs, alleys, in and around vehicles. He looked for people who weren't reacting to the fact that a beam melted a bar window.

"This is a shitty way to end my night..." The Italian man said, understating the situation.
 
as written by Saarai

Just as they had planned, the Jupiter mercs faced the target. Three of them were armed with fully automatic rifles, opening fire on the bar. Any inhabitants torn apart by their gunfire were unimportant casualties, their deaths something the mercs would not lose an ounce of sleep over. The others retrieved hefty plasma rifles from their backs, looking around for any opposition to their operation, ready to eliminate any threats that came their way.

Thalgan cursed as John moved out of the way of his shot, seconds before the beam had even crossed through the window. How the man had accomplished such a thing left Thalgan puzzled, but he refocused his aim, firing off more shots in an attempt to erase John from existence. It wouldn't be an easy death to be sure, but it was the one Thalgan was dishing out. He continued to keep watch, waiting for the moment John's head popped into view.

Below, the Jupiter mercs continued their assault, ripping bullet holes into the bar and plasma burns into anyone brave or foolish enough to stand up to them. They slowly advanced on the pub as they riddled it with round after round, taking turns reloading as to maintain constant suppressive fire.

Their target wasn't getting away from them.

The ground was the safest to be, but at the rate the mercs were firing there wasn't going to be much bar left to keep the people in the bar safe from death from above and outside. The building was durable, but a sustained attack like this pushed it's limits.

"Emi!" One of the patrons shouted, "Grab the shotgun from behind da' bar!" He said to the young woman, like her he had an Irish accent. "Be ready ta' use it!" He added, seemingly getting ready to stand. "Pete, what the fuck are ya' about to do?" One of the other men asked, "Buy you lot some time." Pete answered, digging a pistol out of his waistband.

"I knew somethin' was goin' ta' happen. I just knew it. Get me cousin' out of here, boys." Pete ordered, "Emi, be ready to run, yeah? Stay low."

"Just wait for help to show up." John said, "The Palace is right up the street. Some guys might be coming from there as we speak. And the front gate." He told the Irishman, "Calm down, man. Don't do anything stupid." John pleaded.

"Stop."

John's words fell on deaf ears, Pete stood and raised his pistol at the mercenaries. He unleashed a barrage of fire until his magazine was dry. As this went on, John and the others began to crawl for the back of the pub. Emily grabbed the sawed-off shotgun from beneath the bar, joining the others in their seemingly hopeless and extremely slow escape from the violence.

Viktor was still ducked down in his car, he wasn't as stupid or brave as Pete was. He was one man and the help that was arriving were taking it slow. Invictus security and nearby police were far and few for now, anyone else with a weapon were playing it safe. There was no need to charge out into whatever was going on.

"Drop your weapons!" An Invictus security officer shouted, she was just down the street using a vehicle for cover. So were the other Invictus. They weren't exactly prepared to take on a well-armed, well-trained team of mercenaries outside of a bar.

"You get one chance and then we are putting you all the fuck down. All the way!" The Invictus woman added, "Ten seconds!

As expected, the Invictus made an appearance, ready to throw down and show the Jupiter mercs their mettle. However, they were banking on the possibility that the Invictus weren't expecting the other mercs to have been waiting for them; plasma rifles ready, they opened fire on the incoming security, streams of super-heated energy flying towards them at a relatively slow pace that was still faster than most could react. It was all they could hope for to make some gruesome and burning holes in their chests.

The man with the pistol behind the bar was something of a problem, but wouldn't be if Thalgan's aim was as true as usual. Training his sights on the man's chest, Thalgan squeezed the trigger of his disruptor rifle once more, seeking to obliterate the resister and wipe him clean from the face of the planet. His attack was meant to tear the man apart at the molecular level, leaving behind no discernible trace that he'd ever existed at all.

Meanwhile, the initial strike team continued their attack, slamming bullets into the pub and keeping an eye out for their man, seeking to plant a bullet in his back should the opportunity present itself to them.
 
as written by Saarai

The Invictus security returned fire, a few dropping after taking hits to the body and allowing their shields to absorb the destructive force of the plasma. One such security guard brushed his hands over his chest quickly, checking to see if he'd taken any real damage. He was lucky to find that he was relatively unscathed, but his shield was for personal defense.

It was small and couldn't take many more direct hits.

The dead body of another Invictus security officer nearby showed that not everyone could be so lucky, he could see the remaining air in her lungs slowly left her mouth. It was smoking. The heat had cooked the woman's chest and insides. A cruel death if there ever was one.

"Where the fuck is our backup?" Another asked, "On the way, but these guys caught us during shift changes. The big guns are kind of on their way home or still suiting up." One of the other security guards answered, "Byron, I'm just saying it would be really helpful if we had a few snipers, more big ass guns, a ninja or two, and some motherfuckers who can magic these assholes to death." The first security officer said.

"We just need to hold out for a second. Just a few minutes more, maybe we can take a few with us." Byron said, "We can't turn this into a massacre on either side, too many civilians."

And one had gone down already in what was either a heroic sacrifice or a foolhardy attempt at a heroic sacrifice. John looked back to where he last saw Pete as he and the others crawled for the kitchen.. There was no trace of Pete, John feared the worst had happened to the man.

He turned back to watch the others, he wanted to make sure they were safe at the very least. Then he caught a glimpse of his coat, it was too out in the open to be grabbed without getting shot. Even just reaching up for the gun in his pocket or trying to get it from the hook was risky. He needed a distraction.

Ten free seconds or more to get his gun and have a weapon other than a short range shotgun.

The Italian wild card outside was going to provide just that. Viktor, still ducked down in his car, used his free hand to start his car's engine. The other with the gun held down the brake as he used the empty hand to switch gears and put the black car into drive. He awkwardly moved his body so that he was, mostly, in the driver's seat and could put his feet against the pedals.

"Cosa più stupida che ho fatto oggi." Viktor muttered, shooting up to a seated position and slamming both of his feet into the brake and gas pedal simultaneously. He used his free hand to turn the steering wheel as he burned out, sending the vehicle spinning out to hit some of the gunmen.

He removed his foot from the brake when the car lined itself up with a shooter, letting the car hopefully turn a Juptier merc into roadkill.

A few of the Jupiter mercs had time to dive out of the way as the speeding car came stampeding toward them like a crazed mechanical beast. One of them, a guy named Markus, was not so lucky. He was practically bent backwards, his knees snapping from the backs of his legs, and his body being positioned in such a way that the front right tire drove over his head, snapping his neck in several places and ripping his jaw open. It was a rather gory death, but it was to be expected.

The arrival of the Invictus didn't bode well for Thalgan, and he took the opportunity to crash their plans with one of his own. Taking one of his own customized thermal detonators in hand, he shouted for the mercs outside to get clear as he lobbed it towards the attacking Invictus security from the second floor window of the building he was in.

The explosive was designed to eradicate everything and everyone caught in the eight-meter blast radius. The instability of the explosive made it particularly devastating, causing a highly destructive fusion reaction that was enough to punch through most armors with ease.

Thalgan almost hoped the Invictus had a plan for that as the grenade ticked its life away, right before detonating.
 
as written by Saarai

Viktor rolled himself out of his car as it sat, engine smoking and crashed into a building. He laid flat on the side of his car away from the mercenaries, eyes peering beneath the vehicle to watch the feet of the attacking mercenaries. He couldn't have any of them getting the drop on him, and knowing where they were would be helpful if he decided to engage them again.

He'd play it safe, safer, for now since he was only armed with a pistol and a suit vest. Not exactly gear for a firefight with trained mercenary killers.

"Grenade!" Byron shouted at the sight of the thermal detonator. He and the other Invictus scrambled away from the grenade for cover, a few falling as they took hits to the back. It was to be expected when you were making a retreat like that. Byron noticed one of the security officers turning back and running towards the greade.

"What is he doing? What the fuck are you doing?!" Another shouted towards their stray comrade, the security officer seemed very intent on getting to the grenade before it went off. He played with the dials on a square device ttached to his belt. It was his shield generator, and in seconds energy could be seen coursing around the man.

He had cranked up the energy output much higher than it was meant to be for personal use. It could take one big hit and would fizzle out for awhile. Not that it mattered to the young man, he dove towards the grenade and as it went off he hoped to have used his last moments on Terra to absorb most of the initial explosion with his shield.

Save a few extra lives if he could. Inadvertantly, his death was serving up to be fuel on a fire starting to rage in his comrades down the street. No one came into their home and killed their people. Not when they could do something about it.

The subtle opening of manhole covers around the Jupiter mercs indicated that something was about to be done. Something they wouldn't enjoy. Unless they had weird fetishes and sexual preferences, that is.

John took the distraction from Viktor, or at the very least the lessening of gunfire into the bar, as his chance to get his coat and have a weapon in hand. The young man scrambled to his feet and ripped his coat from the hook it hung on before throwing himself into the kitchen area with the others. Now the playing field was more even.

John pulled his gun from his coat pocket. It was a high-powered, custom black Desert Eagle. A handheld grim reaper to anyone on the other side of it. It cost John a lot of money over the years, money well-spent when you're in the mercenary business and had to kill people before they killed you sometimes.

"Okay, here's the plan..." John said loudly, moving to join the others as they crouched at the back entrance. "We'll head out into the alley and use the garbage containers as cover. Hopefully, we won't be seen and we can find a door into the building next door. Or we can use the tunnels and get into the HQ."

"The HQ?" One of the Irishmen asked, "Uh... the Palace, I mean." John answered, "The Palace."He repeated, "Fuck it. Let's do it." Emily said, "Okay, I'll take lead." John told the group, rushing out to take cover behind one of the dumpsters. He kept his head low, peeking out quickly to figure out where everyone trying to murder him were.

He didn't like the sound of an explosion on the street. He feared what the mercenaries would bring out next, or how far they would go to finish their job.

Although he wasn't technically under their employment, Zoraka felt it in his best interest to help out the Jupiter Corporation's mercenaries as they found themselves surrounded by myriad Invictus operatives. They had been taking too long, and he grew restless; the more time he spent cooped up on Arrora's ship, the less time he was out hunting Sith. So he took it upon himself to speed up the process.

He landed with his front facing the Invictus personnel, immediately unleashing a shockwave of Force energy as he threw his hands forward, seeking to toss them into the buildings nearby.

The Invictus security officers went flying from Zoraka's attack. They weren't expecting something like that to happen while they tried to take on the mercenaries. It was a setback, many of them were aching and injured by the force of their bodies hitting walls and ground. Others lost their only ranged weapons, buying the mercs more than enough time to finish their job without much resistance.

That was until the cavalry arrived, the open manhole covers weren't just for entering the sewers. And the reason so many of them seemed to fill the Courtyard was about to be known. Out came men and women, all of them donning black armor and black jumpsuits. They carried assaultrifles, and as they entered the mini-warzone they didn't hesitate to open fire on the attackers they saw.

Hopefully the element of surpise would have been enough to quell the attack, or at least send a message to the mercs and result in a retreat. Anything to end the violence before more innocents and more of their own got hurt.

Thalgan took the darjetii's interruption as a blessing and made his way to the street level. Taking his DE-10 blaster pistols in each hand, he began to summarily open fire on any incoming enemies that dared to oppose him, seeking to leave scorching burns in his gunfire's wake. The shielding on their armor was annoying, but not unbearable. A few extra well-placed shots would see his opponents dead in a hurry.

The HUD of his helmet included a motion detector, and normally he wouldn't have been able to tell one blip from another in a rabble such as this. However, he noticed four dots, far enough outside of the range of all the other riffraff to be discernible. They were faint, but he caught them just in time, the apparatus somehow picking up the subtle vibrations of their movement amidst the chaos in the streets.

They were behind the pub.

He headed in that direction, activating the thrusters on his boots to leap over the rabble. He landed close to their position, their signals intensifying as he neared. Another well-timed jump, and he found himself directly above them. Pointing his wrist downward, he activated the flamethrower mounted there, spewing an intense gas-born fire towards the group, smiling as he imagined their deaths.
 
as written by Saarai

Viktor took the arrival of backup as his chance to get to his feet and get out of dodge. He spotted Thalgan on his way to the alley beside the bar, John and the others, as far as Viktor knew, didn't get out. While Thalgan was one man, he was more armored and more armed than anyone in the bar was.

The Italian man reached into his car, pressing his finger against a button that immediately popped his trunk. The Italian private eye crouched along towards the back of his car, discreetly reaching into the trunk and grabbing hold of his Mossberg 500 shotgun. It packed enough of a punch that it would even his odds of surviving more than his pistol.

"Here goes nothing..." Viktor said, rushing towards the alley to help out his friends. before they became notches on the Mandalorian mercenary's belt.

Said friends were barely able to avoid the fire Thalgan unleashed on top of them. Though it was more like they were sent back into the frying pan by the fire, John dived away from the fire deeper into the alley. The others back into the bar. The trash in the alley was lighting up the dark alley, and some of the fire found itself creeping into the bar.

The fire could be dealt with, Thalgan was the real obstacle to escaping. John knew that, so the young man scrambled to his feet and raised his gun at the mercenary.

The battle raging not far from them seemed to have lost it's importance now that John was face to face with the man who tried to end his life. He didn't know it was Thalgan that took the first shot that started it all, but all the same the Mandalorian was in his way.

A pistol. How laughable.

Thalgan was undeterred by the weapon, proceeding to stride forward, reaching out with his right hand to grasp the firearm's barrel. He was prepared to absorb some gunshots with the armor he wore, but ultimately, he expected to turn the tides in his favor. His hand nearing closer, he sought to destroy the weapon with his crushgaunts, making use of the strength-enhancing properties afforded by the micronized beskar to implode the barrel with sheer pressure.

Elsewhere in the Courtyard, the Jupiter mercenaries were taken off guard by the arrival of the Invictus units from the underground. Two of the mercs were gunned down, bullets ripping into their persons; one of them met a gruesome fate as their visage exploded out of the back of their heads as it met a rifle round head-on. Only half of the mercenaries remained, and Zoraka was still present.

The Dark Jedi devised a solution to the outnumbering ranks of Invictus, hurling his lightsaber in a roundabout arc, seeking to decapitate or otherwise kill the opposition before him. The remaining mercs fought to the last, delivering unending bursts of a combination of projectile and plasma weapons fire.

They'd all die, possibly, but they wouldn't go down without fighting tooth and nail.
He had to be moved.

"Move." John commanded.
 
as written by Saarai

John opened fire on the approaching man, ech round was accurate at such a close range. The problem was that Thalgan was armored. Armored tended to help someone when faced with guns and some other weaponry. John needed something bigger and stronger.

He still took his chance and unleashed almost every round in his Desert Eagle, he couldn't get the last few out by the time Thalgan grabbed the weapon and crushed it. He didn't have his other weapons. He didn't think he'd need them working in the bar. A bar in Wing City, at that. Maybe a little extra paranoia would have been helpful.

"Damn it..." John muttered, backing away from Thalgan. He clenched his fists, a faint purple glow finding a home just above his skin. The young man had more abilities, but it was obvious he was holding back. Maybe to help his friends, maybe a lack of confidence, maybe because he didn't know what he was up against with Thalgan.

Maybe a combination of all three.

"Come on. I'm ready." John said, raising his fists towards the mercenary. As he got ready for a brawl, Viktor came charging down the alley with his shotgun raised. All he needed was one good shot to knock the Mandalorian down. He waited until he was close and fired at the mercenary.

Back out on the street, Invictus elites ducked and dodged Zoraka's lightsaber. Some had closer calls with it than others, but the general consensus was that they needed to tay the fuck away. At least until they dealt with the mercenaries and didn't have to worry about catching a bullet or plasma from behind.

"Maintain distance!" One of them shouted, the other elites backing off from Zoraka and his remaining mercenary allies. The Invictus elites were better equipped, armored, and shileded than their first responder counterparts.

They were soldiers and warriors, not just ex-cops or championship fighters who joined up with the Invictus. Their training showed even in their retreat, soldiers fired as others ran for cover, those in cover fired and bought time for their comrades to find safety as well.

"Plan of action?" One of the elites asked another as they took covered behind some damage cars. "Focus on that Jedi motherfucker." The elite answered, he was a large black man, a human. The Invictus patch sewn into his jumpsuit colored orange and black.

"How, Banner?" Another asked the man, "Zerg rules. Rush him, overwhelm him. Bring him down." Banner explained, "We'll go on my mark. I want those gunmen dead or in zips as soon as possible, by the way."

Zoraka wasn't very surprised that these elites were able to avoid his attack. However, his strike had served its purpose, and the Invictus were now going to be focusing their efforts on himself, which allowed the Jupiter mercs time to get the hell out of dodge, at his beckoning. They fled, not even turning to fire as they made their escape. Any Invictus that sought to shoot them as they fled would be met with Zoraka's fury as he produced a steady stream of Force lightning towards the elites.

His attention settled on one of them, his eyes burning into their frame as he concentrated his willpower on them. Leaping high into the air to get closer, the Dark Jedi landed near one of the elite soldiers, waving a hand in front of him as he spoke, "You want to kill your comrades."

Attempting to hijack the man's psyche and force him to turn on his brothers, Zoraka employed the famous mind trick, banking on the man's mental fortitude not being able to hold up to his attack.

Back in the alleyway, Thalgan was still dealing with John, who continued to remain defiant even in the face of certain death. He revealed to the Mandalorian a power within himself that he'd been hiding. To Thalgan, that made no difference; he was going to finish the job he'd started. Sauntering forward, he sought to end John's resistance.

The additional arriving party, however, had met Thalgan with a full-powered shotgun blast to the back. The armor he wore lessened the damage, but the absolute force of impact was enough to throw him to the ground. As he hit, he mentally kicked himself for allowing such a rookie mistake. Slamming a fist into the ground, he sprung forward into a somersault, jumping to his feet as he turned to face John and the newcomer, a DE-10 in each hand. Staring them down, he smirked beneath his helmet. "Two against one? Hardly seems fair..." he began. "You don't have enough men on your side."

He pulled the respective triggers of his weapons, seeking to put both men down.
 
as written by Saarai

"We should go..." Viktor said to John as Thalgan stood before them, "Yeah..." John responded, nearly throwing himself towards the side entrance back into the bar as Thalgan fired. His savior, Viktor, fired off a shot of his own at Thalgan before he dived for cover behind one of the burning dumpsters. "One man is more than enough!" Viktor shouted at Thalgan, firing blindly through around the dumpster to buy John time to flee.

Fired seeped into the bar, activating it's sprinkler systems in hopes of quelling the flames before they could really spread. "Where are you guys?" John asked loudly as he scrambled into the pub.

"Here!" Emily called out, she and the remaining Irishmen hiding in the pub's freezer. "We gotta go while we have the chance. Viktor is holding that guy off." John told them, gesturing for the group to follow. The fighting outside seemed to have died down, help must have arrived and sent the mercenaries running.

Or they had finished their job, whatever that was.

The aforementioned help found themselves pinned down by Zoraka, he was doing well at delaying them and buying the attacking mercenaries time to get away from the warzone they had created. The Invictus elites were caught off guard again by the dark Jedi as he leapt through the air.

"Now!" Banner shouted, the elites rushing towards Zoraka. The damage was done, the now brainwashed elite turned his rifle on his comrades and opened fire. He brought two down before the others were on him, holding him down and stripping as many weapons as they could from him. The others, including Banner, kept their attention on Zoraka.

"We're ending this. Rodeo time!" Banner shouted at the elites. Several of them removed grappling hooks from their utility belts, flinging them at their enemy in hopes of ensaring his arms and legs. They needed at least two to catch on and then Zoraka was at their mercy.

They hoped. with part of their team restraining one of their own they couldn't execute the attack they wanted to. They had to improvise.
 
as written by Calcos

The gunfire impacted his armor to no real avail, only serving to make him stumble once again. His quarry was escaping, and he had no time left to deal with John's friends the way he would like to. As the back door to the bar found itself open, Thalgan would inevitably find himself through it. For now, though, he had to deal with the man currently standing -well, crouching- between him and his target. Thalgan scoffed as blind fire rained from behind the burning garbage receptacle, most of them missing him by a wide margin.

Producing a thermal detonator from his belt, Thalgan lobbed the volatile device in the shooter's direction, secretly hoping the man had a God to pray to before the device detonated.


Elsewhere, Zoraka and the remaining Jupiter mercs were having to contend with more Invictus. Sporadic fire shot out in all directions, and the ground was littered with blood and bodies. "There's no way we're getting out of this one!" one of the mercs shouted, the assault rifle in his hands speaking in short, concise bursts that rang out lead-based death on the wind with each pull of the trigger.

Zoraka found his own troubles as he was being assaulted by some of the elites, who launched steel cables in his direction in order to secure his limbs. He missed capture of his legs with quick evading rolls, but he found his arms entangled as soon as he hit the ground, pulled taught around his wrists as to keep him from utilizing his appendages.

Time seemed to slow as he cast his gaze from one elite to the other, his eyes hard and full of hatred. However, the flow of time would return to normal in just an instant, and he would immediately wrap the cables around his arms further, taking them in his own hands.

With a smile, he sent two steady streams of Force lightning down the length of the metal cable, conducting the deadly power on a collision course with the elites' bodies.
 
as written by Saarai

"Fuck!" Viktor shouted, he knew a grenade when he saw one. The Italian man knew he wasn't going to stop Thalgan if he was caught in the blast, but there was nowhere to go to escape it. All he could was prevent it from killing him. Viktor, with all the strength he could muster, decided that living was more important than slowing down Thalgan anymore.

He pulled on the burning dumpster with one hand, the other reaching for the thermal detonator. He did his best to push the detonator as far under the dumpster as possible, when it went off the force of the explosion sent Viktor to the ground and the dumpster against a wall.

The closeness of the explosion ensured that Viktor wasn't going to be in the fight, he just laid unconscious, and possibly burnt, as garbage burned around him.

John feared the worst, as the others went to flee the bar he made his way towards the back door. He figured Thalgan lived, which meant he would just keep coming. "What does it take to end this?" John shouted, keeping his distance from the door to the alleyway.

"What does it take, man?"

The Invictus elites were asking the same when Zoraka sent Force lightning their way. Their armor was made to prevent electricity from being a problem, but lightning, especially lightning from an unnatural source, wasn't exactly the same.

"Cut the lines!" Banner shouted, "Cut the damn lines!" He said, the elites disconnecting the cables from their gauntlets. They all dropped to the ground, still dealing with the trauma of nearly being cooked where they stood.

"Can't let them get away..." Banner said, struggling to get to his feet. He was the only one standing, his rifle barely raising above waist level before he buckled under the pressure of his own weakened body.
 
as written by Calcos and Saarai

The explosion hurled Victor's unconscious form down the alleyway, the man falling limp and unmoving. Had Thalgan any time to spare, he'd have planted a blaster bolt in the back of the man's head before cutting short the life of his mark. However, he had no time to waste; it was now or never.

From inside the bar, Thalgan could hear John's voice. It was a frantic, almost pleading tone, seeming to beg Thalgan to cease his assault and walk away. "What does it take to end this?" he heard. There was fear in that voice, as coming face to face with a walking juggernaut served to sap his resolve. Terror most assuredly seized this man, and was controlling him like a puppet.

But it wasn't fear for himself that Thalgan heard in his voice, and this caused him to smile. "What does it take, man?" he shouted. Reaching a hand forward, Thalgan gripped the door firmly, wrenching it from the hinges and casting it aside, down the alleyway. Simultaneously, he whipped a DE-10 over the threshold, aiming the blaster directly at John's head as the man came near the exit. His finger on the trigger, Thalgan uttered only two words: "Your death."

He pulled the trigger...

Outside, Zoraka and the remaining Jupiter mercs seemed to be taking the day. Fire engulfed the perimeter, and bodies were strewn about haphazardly. Only one of them remained standing --for a moment, at least. The broken man collapsed under his own fatigue before he could even raise his weapon high enough to make an effective shot. Zoraka merely stared at the pitiful mortal, amusement having left him in that moment.

"We're through here. Let's see what progress the Mandalorian has made." With those words, he turned his back on the grisly scene, calmness enveloping him as a familiar shawl; safe, secure, warm. He just wanted to wash his hands of this and move on to other things...

Killing Sith being chief among them.

____

John was staring down the blaster for only a second when Thalgan pulled the trigger. The young man raised a hand and lunged at the mercenary almost immediately, if he was going to go out it wasn't going to be without some sort of resistance. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite prepared to resist anymore. The shot hit him in the neck as he was in the air.

It tore away much of his flesh, it would take a miracle for him to survive. It was his tough body that kept his head from rolling off of his shoulders.

His body fell limp, likely falling right into Thalgan's arms unless the man preferred to let his dead rest on the ground.

____

John was done for, and Thalgan would soon be reaping the rewards of his hunt. As the body fell, a burnt hole situated on the side of his neck, Thalgan reached out with an open hand to catch John by the hair. The strength-enhancing properties of his crushgaunts, however, served to finish the job the misplaced plasma bolt had started, and whichever parts of John's neck that weren't cauterized by the blast now bled all over the floor, his head swinging in Thalgan's grip as the Mandalorian looked down upon the decapitated body.

Shortly thereafter, Zoraka and the Jupiter mercenaries arrived, all of them staring at Thalgan -and the head he was holding- and wondering what the hell they were going to do next. The mercenary raised his head, looking at them all with a hard stare from under his helmet. He holstered his blaster, pointing at two of the Jupiter mercs with his now-free hand. "You two, retrieve the body. The twi'lek is waiting for us."

Turning his back on them, he strode slowly away from the scene, the adrenaline high subsiding and the reality of the situation sinking in. If he were honest with himself, he felt better than he had any right to about this moment. With a smile, he thought about how he would have done it all again, exactly the same way.

____

Agent Church stood over a puddle of dried blood inside the Horne family's closed down pub, eyes never leaving it as he crouched down for a closer look. It had been days since the attack on the Courtyard. There was a noticeable increase in Invictus security and WCPD officers, there even military personnel and TIB agents on scene.

None of that mattered to Church, he was conducting an investigation of his own on behalf of the Invictus. They needed answers only they could get without the red tape everyone else had to go through.

"It was that guy with the undead." A voice said, belonging to a suited man standing behind Church. "Lochlyn Haley. We have his son locked up." The man said, "I know." Church responded, "Your people told us you would be working their end, doing your own thing. I'm Special Agent Benjamin Case." The man said to Church.

"I know." Church said again, "Your mother is Terran, your father is Aschen. Caprican, to be exact. I even know your favorite food and your bank number." The Scatterran told Case, standing to take a look at him.

"I get it. They told me about you. There isn't much on file about you though. No birthdate, no name, nothing. Just a rank, an alias, and some stuff that says you were enlisted. Says you were in every place the Coalition had gone for combat." Case said, "But nothing about what you actually did."

"Don't press." Church told Case, "Do your job, I'll do mine. Leave Coalition business as Coalition business."

"Fair enough. Where did you plan on searching for info?" Case asked the Invictus agent, "Where you can't go." Church answered, walking away from the man.

____

Lionel watched the streets outside of The Courtyard through his rifle's scope from his position on a rooftop. Down below Invictus soldiers and police officers herded people towards the walled off plaza. It was one of the safer places to be.

Trained mercenaries, and even people with their own weapons and skills, made it as such.

Inside and outside of The Courtyard was crowded, sometimes it was hard for those on the ground to move. A lot of people were shoulder to shoulder trying to get to the compound's front gates.

"Here. Water." Nina said as she walked through the crowd of displaced citizens, handing out bottles waters she carried in a duffel bag. "Water over here!" She called out, holding up a bottle to make sure everyone could see it.

____

Takeshi made his way to the Courtyard out of necessity --more specifically, the need to live. He carried with him a duffel bag full of spare clothes and some food rations, enough to last him for a few days, at least. He expected a relief effort to be organized here, but it never hurt to prepare beforehand.

He kept his gun inside his jacket, another precaution. He couldn't be too careful when the city was going to hell and people were slitting each others' throats in the street for survival. He had his power, too -that strange and dangerous ability- but it didn't do him much good when he couldn't control it all that well. So, he decided it was best to get the fuck out of Dodge and settle in with the other refugees rather than try to hold out against the chaos in the streets, fear of having his home raided and himself taking a bullet to the brain getting the better of him.

He preferred the safety that he didn't have to provide, and so this place seemed like the best option; he'd call this place home for as long as he could.
 
as written by Script

After her retreat from the intersection in Azure Heights, Alanna had caught word of the Invictus' efforts to move people to the relative safety of the courtyard. Though her own interactions with the organisation had been limited - the most recent being ... John, if she recalled correctly, during her escape from the Jupiter Corporation's custody - she was aware of their reputation. Though the paramilitary group were at times unpredictable, they were also capable.

Getting back to Valore from the backwater smuggling station in the Aurora she'd ended up on had been no easy task, thinking back on the affair. At least nobody there had the capacity to deny her her magic.

Levitating above the crowd, she took up a position on a nearby rooftop, readying both her runes and her rifle to support the Invictus defenders in the event of the Aschen moving on the civilians retreating here.

Meanwhile, in the crowd below, a trio of students - a blonde-haired girl with a slim figure and an array of expensive-looking jewellery walked alongside a muscular young man with brown hair, wearing a tank-top and sporting an unpleasant looking burn on his right arm. He was being fussed over by another young man, a red-haired slim boy with large fox-like ears protruding from his head.

"I told you it was a bad idea to mouth off," Embre scalded Daniel with a glower, "We should have just complied."

Daniel shot her a pained grin, "Heh, at least we came off better than the other guy."

"You're lucky I got us out before the rest of his unit responded," she snapped back, "Or we'd all three of us be dead."

"Can we not talk about it anymore?" Lan complained, pressing his head against Daniel's good arm. "Let's just get to safety and then try and pretend we aren't going to be glassed at any moment."

"You're such a heartening optimist, babe," Daniel raised an eyebrow at him. "We'll be fine, mkay?"

"Mhm..." Lan murmured unenthusiastically as the crowd continued to push slowly forwards. Embre's eyes were directed skyward at the Reverence looming overhead. Crackling green energy danced across one of its weapons as she watched, seemingly doing a fair amount of damage, but the sheer size of the ship rendered it insignificant.

She just hoped whoever was fighting back wasn't inviting even more death down on them.
 
as written by Script

"What's in the bag?" A man asked Takeshi, approaching from behind. He was a big guy wearing a brown jacket, Yakuza tattoos visible on his hands and neck. As he spoke more of the local Yakuza closed in on Takeshi to surround him. This was a robbery, and they knew that with so much going on they wouldn't be seen.

There were bigger issues for the law to handle.

"Hand it over." The big man said to Takeshi, "Right now, man. I'm not asking again."
 
as written by Calcos

The cluster of unscrupulous men encircling him saw a spike in his heart rate, his eyes widening. against a single opponent, he'd be less diffident in his ability to control a conflict; however, facing off against a group of people, especially the kind that looked like they knew their way around a brawl, he was more inclined to find an out than to hold his ground and try to out-punch them.

As he backed away from his would-be assailants, his eyes scanned the area surrounding him, taking notice of an area on the rooftop just above where they were all huddled together. He focused, intensely, on willing his power to work -the way he wanted it to, for once.

"Look guys, can't we just be reasonable about thi-" he fell backwards, his heel catching a rock that was jutting from the ground, causing him to fall back flat on his ass. This, in turn, prompted the surrounding thugs to encircle him further, ensuring there was no clean getaway. The murmurs they shared amongst themselves as the enclosed him weren't very reassuring that he'd walk away from this unscathed.

Or even alive.


He closed his eyes, awaiting the pummeling that was to come, imagining how he could've avoided all of this if only he could control his stupid ability. Suddenly, the sounds of their collective voices were gone, and he dared to peek an eye open. He was on a rooftop; the one he had his eyes on earlier. As realization of what had happened dawned on him, relief cascaded through his nervous system like a welcomed shot of good whiskey, setting him at ease.

He looked over at where they stood, huddled around the empty space their quarry had been a few moments ago, baffled and looking to each other for a reasonable explanation. Takeshi had to stifle a chuckle as he made himself scarce, lest they spot him in his new hiding spot.
 
as written by Tiko and Saarai

Sonja was milling about the lobby of the Palace as the place continued to fill with arriving refugees. She had made her way over earlier to get clear of the chaos caused by Butcher out in the streets of Azure Heights.

There hadn't been any sign of Phinx, but what had started out as a routine response to a rather run of the mill conflict had erupted into a chain of escalating over-reactions and pure chaos. One rogue dragon turned into a city wide slaughter of indiscriminate fire, which was met in kind with local retaliation, and somehow a routine situation turned into the beginnings of a galactic warzone in a way that only the Aschen could accomplish.

She was skimming her phone as the local news was being flooded with reports, and live footage of what was going on out there in the streets. The Aschen were executing their own, gunning them down in the streets...

She pressed a hand to her mouth in shock and the color drained from her face as Aschen citizens were lined up against walls to be shot in the back of their heads, not by Terrans, but by Aschen soldiers.

She turned her phone over, fighting the bile that rose in her mouth at the splatter of charred blood and brain matter on the wall. It was a sight she wouldn't soon forget. Not her, nor the millions being subject to the live feeds.

The phone chimed and she turned it back over. The message was from Phinx, to meet her at the police precinct within the courtyard.

No doubt it had something to do with her own ethnicity, given the footage she had just witnessed, and she didn't question it. She slipped the phone back into her arm-bag and caught the arm of a hurried security guard long enough to get directions. It wasn't far, but wading through the crowds outside wouldn't be easy.

She took the front steps of the Palace at a hurried pace, but she wasn't dressed for this. She was dressed for work, and the high-heels weren't productive for more than a brisk pace let alone pushing her way through the thick crowds.

It was clear that she was shaken by the events when she entered the front lobby of the police station, but to her credit she hadn't lost her composure and she cast her eyes about for a familiar face. A business woman among a sea of police and mercenaries. The least she could do was keep her head high, and not add to rapidly surmounting troubles that had the station a hive of activity.

____

The police station was swarming with police officers and some Invictus, all of them doing their best to make the best out of what was a crappy situation. Between emergency calls and keeping the peace at The Courtyard they were spreading themselves a little thin.

"We lost contact with a unit responding to a burglary." A police sergeant said to the others gathered around a large computer screen. Included was Phinx, her purple suit standing out among the police officers.

"Where?" She asked, "About three blocks northwest. Could just be technical issues." The sergeant told Phinx. The Invictus leader prepared to speak until she turned to see Sonja.

"I can send some people to take a look on the ground level. I have someone trying to get in touch with the military too." She said, waving Sonja over. "Give me a second." She added.

The mercenary turned and began her journey to Sonja, something of a smile creeping up on her face.

"Hey."

____

"What's going on?" Sonja asked. "It's a blood bath out there. They're just shooting people. Our people."

The implication of racism that found its way into her words was more than product of nerves rather than any deliberate attempt to imply that shooting Aschen citizens was in some way worse than shooting Terran ones.

____

"Yeah, girl. When are you gonna figure out who the bad guy is?" Phinx asked Sonja, pointing out at the people the Courtyard had taken in. "Most of this is because of your soft ass emperor." She told the Aschen woman.

"He's a fascist dictator. You and the others ain't nothing but a tool to keep him in power and to bully anyone who isn't with the program."

The way Phinx spoke was different than usual. The disappearance of Stryfe and Sonia was getting to her. Despite her best efforts The Courtyard wouldn't be able to feed and protect everyone that came seeking refuge.

Not without food, water, and a reliable group of defenders.

____

Sonja hadn't the words to refute Phinx's accusations, and her eyes said it. She was afraid. Afraid of what she had seen, afraid of the Empire. Afraid of what would happen to this city.

"What can I do?" she asked.

If she was going to be here, she didn't want to be dead weight.

____

"Crowd control, maybe? Emotions are running high. We don't need people doing anything stupid." Phinx said, "And, don't mention that you're Aschen. Remember what almost happened to you before?"

Phinx imitated hanging herself with a noose, making a face soon after. "I feel like this isn't the right time to do stuff like that towards you." She said, running a hand through her hair.

"Trouble out front." An Invictus soldier said loudly, "The gangs are trying to brawl." He told everyone.

Phinx sighed, "Care to join me?" She asked Sonja, "You can offer them free drinks at your club. They might settle down." She joked.

____

"As if my face all over the news won't have already done that for me," Sonja remarked with a grimace.

She hadn't forgotten their encounter on Misrana, and right now hostility towards the Ashen people would be high.

"Might as well," Sonja answered Phinx's inquiry. "Something tells me with you is the best place to be right now," she said.

Hopefully no one recognized her and inflamed things.

____

Phinx nodded, gesturing for Sonja to follow her as she headed for the exit. "Sugar, come on." Phinx said, beckoning over an Invictus mercenary. The man was neat looking, nicely combed platinum blond hair and a smooth face betraying the fact that he was a hardened soldier.

"Aye aye." Sugar responded, joining Phinx and Sonja. "I'm Sugar Bear. Sugar for short." He said to Sonja, watching Phinx's feet as she stepped outside and began to gracefully walk through the people there.

She could hear the sound of Nina's voice, the woman barely audible over the sounds of other people yelling as well.

"Fuck these chinks and fuck the aliens they work with." A man said, Nina standing between him and beaten Asian man. "Sam, go somewhere else." Nina said to the man, "No, fuck that. Shea Casey seen them buddying up with the Aschen."

"He's got a point." Another man said, his accent distinctly Irish. "The Aschen, the Triads, they work together and they attack us. We don't have ta' keep takin' it." He said, "String 'em all up."

The people at the front gate began to cheer and jeer, many were split. The people of Westeria were no fans of the Aschen or their allies.

"Blame the Triads. Not this dude." Nina suggested, "He's one of them!" Sam shouted, "Check the tattoos! He's probably spying."

____

The Triad member wasn't the only one under the fire of the angry crowd and Phinx's hopes of Sonja keeping a low profile were short lived.

The Aschen business woman's face was too well known, too public. The controversy over her club opening up in Azure Heights had put her all over the front page news and the target of the local spotlight more than once.

"What's that Aschen bitch doing here?" a woman's voice cut out across the din.

The source of it was Sharlene Johnson, wife of Daniel Johnson, a recently fallen officer, gunned down by none other than the Aschen. She had her daughter, Jessica, in one arm and was holding the hand of her son, Carl, with her other.

"They're the cause of all of this!"

Her notice of Sonja drew other eyes, and the crowds ire went from inflamed at the mear implication that the Triad member was associated with the Aschen to an eruption of outrage at the actual presence of once.

As the shouting grew more heated, Sonja's phone chimed again as several messages arrived in rapid succession. She visibly paled as she read them.

Office of Civil Defense: *emergency alert* At the request of the Office of Imperial Affairs and the Imperial Navy. We are informing all Aschen citizens in good standing with the empire to report to Hagan Avenue for evacuation from Valore.

Office of Civil Defense: At 1325 local time, the office of imperial affairs has declared an Exterminatus on Valore. This necessitates an immediate evacuation of all Aschen citizens. *emergency alert*

Office of Civil Defense: failure to comply will result in the revocation of citizenship pursuant to Penal Code article 249 section 80

"... Phinx?" Sonja said with a start. "You need to see this-"

The crowd's anger was reaching a crescendo as someone pelted a rock at Sonja. The stone struck her over the brow and she dropped her phone as she was staggered. Blood ran between her fingers as she pressed a hand over the gash. Her other hand grabbed onto Phinx's arm to steady herself as stars danced across her vision.

The single act of hostility was enough for others to follow suit in rallying their courage and the crowd was pressing in now.

"Give us the Aschen bitch!" someone hollered.

"Phinx, the Empire declared an Exterminatus!" she hollered over the din. "They're going to try and destroy everything!"

____

"Back off!" Sugar shouted, pushing away people in the crowd trying to move in on Sonja. Seconds later Nina and other Invictus joined in. "Everyone back up." A police officer ordered, using the intercom in his car to make sure everyone could hear him.

"Push them out the gate!" Phinx shouted, kneeling down beside Sonja. "I don't care what they do. Are you okay?" Phinx asked, slipping her phone from her suit jacket.

"We need to get you to a doctor, girl." The Invictus leader said. Before she could act something clicked in her head. A question to ask based on her rusty knowledge of Latin.

"What the fuck is Exterminatus?" Her tone suggested that she had an idea of what it was. She just needed to hear it.

Different pockets of the angry mob heard the word too. Not everyone cared, not everyone knew what it meant. This who did quickly spread the word. Anger was going to become panic, panic would become desperation, and desperation would become will to survive.

And then a bullet struck one of the Yakuza gangsters in the crowd as he approached Nina from behind with a blade.

"Hostile down." Lionel said, "Be aware of criminal elements in the crowd."

His actions enflamed those other Yakuza's willingness to do something crazy or stupid. They were already pissed about losing a mark earlier, losing one of their sent them over the edge. They pushed.

The crowd pushed.

Inch by inch they were getting into The Courtyard despite meeting resistance from the law and the Invictus.
 
as written by Script

"What's going on?" Lan's voice was panicked as a gunshot rang out overhead and the crowd began to surge. "Oh my god, did they say exterminatus?"

The crowd surged around the trio of friends as panic and anger flared in unison, mob mentality taking over. Daniel held his ground as best he could to stop the smaller Lan and Embre being overrun. "We need to focus on staying alive in this mess, not-"

"What does it matter if they're going to destroy the fucking planet?!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Embre's voice was strained, but commanding enough to silence even a couple of strangers who were close enough to hear her. "Getting worked up and panicked isn't going to help, okay?" she took a deep breath, steadying herself so she could follow her own advice, "There are people out there who won't let that happen. And there's nothing we can do about it."

Lan glared at her though sodden bangs as though about to continue to protest, his ears drooping lamely in the rain, but instead he simply grit his teeth and nodded.

Standing against the tide was proving impossible even for Daniel, and they were being forced forwards with the crowd as it pushed. To his right, Daniel spotted someone drawing a gun. They might have been Yakuza or any random civilian, but he knew that a firearm in the middle of a crowd was never a good thing.

"Shit, hold tight you two," he hissed, before shoving off into the crowd.

"What the hell are you doing?" Embre yelled after him, but her words were carried away by the crowd's yells. Daniel shoved people out of the way and closed on the man with the handgun, grabbing his wrist before he could bring it up and twisting forcefully.

"Drop it!" he yelled, "This is not the time or the fucking place!"

____

Above, Alanna had turned her eyes down on the crowd below. She scowled, attempting to pick out the instigators amidst them, but the pouring rain combined with the density of the crowd made it almost impossible.
 
as written by Tiko and Saarai

"It's when they exterminate all life on a planet," Sonja explained.

Before Phinx could make her call, her phone rang. The caller would be from one of Phinx's own people, forwarding a request of aid from the TNG for as many ships as the Invictus could spare. It would seem the TNG had full intentions of forcing the Aschen from the local region once and for all.

____

"I'm not going to let that happen." She said, bringing her phone up to her ear to answer it. "Yeah. Yeah, what's up?" Phinx made a face at what she was hearing, shaking her head slowly.

"Okay. Mobilize." Phinx said, putting her phone away. "Sonja, we gotta go." The woman said, "We're going to help the TNG. It's better if you head back to the station and wait. I'm going to send someone to protect you." Phinx told the Aschen woman.

She reached out to help her stand, using her other hand to nudge Sugar.

"You're in charge." She told him, "Understood." Sugar said with a nod, pushing back a man attempting to lunge towards Sonja.

"Nina, get the others out here. I want you all holding the front gate. Weapons cold. Less-than-lethal unless needed." Sugar ordered, "Go." He said to Phinx and Sonja.

"While you can."

____

The crowd showed no sign of calming as Phinx helped Sonja back up the steps into the station. Shouts and jeers were throw after them, and the gunshot had pushed things well past the boiling point. More rocks were flung as the enraged crowd was being pushed back to clear the area, but Phinx and Sonja had enough distance now to not be in any immediate danger.

The gash over her brow was bleeding heavily though as they made it inside, and from the look of it she was going to need stitches.

She was feeling woozy and she settled herself into the nearest vacant chair while keeping pressure on the cut.

"Go on, I can sit put," Sonja told Phinx.

She wasn't entirely certain of her safety even here in the police station, but it was probably the best of a lot of bad options right now.

____

"Alright. Get your head checked out. I'll be back soon." Phinx told Sonja. "Protect yourself. Even here. You can only really trust my people." She added, discreetly pulling a gun from her jacket and handing it to z the Aschen club owner.

"I gotta go." Phinx said, turning to leave Sonja in the relative safety of the police station.

Back out at the front entrance into The Courtyard, it's stalwart defenders had their hands full with the angry mob. The pepper spray had come out, police officers spraying it in hopes of dispersing the mob.

Nina began to back away from the scene, handing raising to her right ear as she retreated. "Rippers, we're needed up front. Sandman, hold position." Nina said, barely dodging a stone that had come flying over the gate.

"Hurry."

____

The mob calmed down as time went by, enough to stop trying to tear down the walls into the Courtyard at the very least.

Up above were armed airships with Invictus insignias patrolling the skies. They had come through for the TNG, even if everyone didn't agree that it was the best idea.

In the police station it became clear that there were some deep divisions inside and outside if the organization. The ships in the sky and in the space above were being seen as escalation by some. For others in the Invictus it was a no-win situation.

Just another opportunity for the TNG to conveniently forget their friends, or another reason for the Aschen, or anyone, to invade and blame it on their presence.

Phinx wasn't having that, she stepped into the police station with a police officer in tow. The officer pulling along one if the Yakuza troublemakers from the front gate.

"What do you want me to do with him?" He asked Phinx, "You don't answer to me." She told him, looking around to notice some of the glares coming her way from the cops.

The Invictus had more influence, more celebrity, than Phinx wanted. It was her idea for them to branch out, to have recognizable faces. But that was only supposed to go as far as kids wanting autographs from Taco, girls borrowing her style, clothing, shoes.

Maybe even a movie.

"Where's Sonja?"

____

"I heard we're all that's left." A police officer said to his partner as they moved through the crowd. "You don't believe that, do you?" His partner asked, "We're not being abandoned, the government needs time to recover." He continued.

"I'm just saying, we're on the ropes. The Aschen aren't the only ones out there. The Scatterrans, Taiyou, terrorists, even these guys. The Invictus." He said, "You think everyone there is on the same page? Or what if that page says they take control?" The first officer asked.

He gestured around, "They have a small army. And they aren't the only ones." He added, eyes resting on one of the more suspicious figures in the crowd.

"Stop being so paranoid. You need some optimism in your life."

The officers passed by a group of men and women, most of them Asian and Hispanic showing visible Yakuza tattoos. Seated in the middle of the group was Jackson Machida, leader of the local chapter of the Red Rain Yakuza.

He had grown a thick beard and nearly as thick hair. The man was still in a dark place since his sister's murder. But, his people still rallied behind him. They even carved out their own VIP section in the crowd.

Their Irish enemies were doing the same, keeping an eye on their foes no matter where they were. Control of the criminal underworld never really ended.

"We should just take him out now." An Irishman said, "No. Sean gave us specific orders. We aren't ta' do anything to draw attention for awhile." Another responded.

____

"She's in one of the interrogation rooms," one of the officers told Phinx. "Down that way. Figured she was safer in there than out here. Two of yours are in there with her."

"Waste of space if you ask me," another officer spat.

That an officer made no secret of his distaste with wasting resources on the Aschen woman, and that he did so openly in front of his colleagues spoke heavily of the level of outrage spreading through the city for those of Aschen blood.

____

"Thanks." Phinx said, deciding it best to bite her tongue lest things get out of hand again. The Aschen had a bad reputation and Sonja was going to suffer for it. At least for a little while.

The Invictus leader headed down to the interrogation room, making her presence known when she opened the door by saying, "We aren't dead."

"Which is great."

____

"I'm not sure great is the word I would use when half the city is burning," Sonja answered.

Words aside though, there was relief evident in her eyes.

"What now?"

____

Phinx shrugged, leaning against a wall. "We help the government put the fires out and they take over from there. Things go back to being as normal as they can be." She told Sonja.

"The Aschen Empire is gone for now. My people are holding the line. It'll be fine." She assured Sonja, "I got your back, baby."

____

"Do you think it would be okay if I stayed at your place for a few days?" Sonja asked. "I'm not sure my place is the safest place to be at the moment."

She didn't voice her thoughts that it wasn't the locals she was afraid would come kicking in her door, but rather her own government. The video footage of Aschen citizens being executed in the streets by Aschen soldiers had left her shaken.

____

"Yeah. You got it. I'll have to stick around here for awhile, but I'll pop in later. I'll have my cousin Shawn take you. My brother and his lot are there, so you'll be safe." She told Sonja.

"Good people. Some might not like you being around, but they'll know you aren't a bad person." Phinx said, "People like us got asshole detectors."

"Can find an asshole faster than a gay doctor performing a colonoscopy."

____

"I appreciate it," Sonja answered before pausing as if she had something more to say. She finally smiled and settled for, "You've been a good friend. Thank you." She stood up, ready to depart.

____

"I'm good to my friends." Phinx told Sonja, removing her phone from a pocket. She began to type, clearly sending a text to another person. "Shawn's going to meet us outside." Phinx said, opening up the interrogation room door.

"Aschen ladies first."

____

"We're almost there. Just a few more miles and we reach the destination." Said Walbridge as he drove the armored APC through crowds of people just north of The Courtyard. The streets had been mostly cleared with the assistance of the WCPD, as well as the Invictus soldiers on foot.

People were trying to see who was inside the APC. Was it Rhea? An Aschen? Their savior? Their reckoning?

Lucian wasn't any of those things. The last one in the past, maybe. But, today he was a man who upheld everything the Invictus was founded on. Everything he and his friends founded the Invictus on.

"It's a bit slow, but it's smoothing sailing." Walbridge informed the Invictus founder, "Good. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get this done.
 
as written by Script

Amongst the WCPD officers who had assisted with clearing the streets stood one extra. With the department's head having been cut off and reports of casualties still filtering in by the hour, it was little wonder that nobody thought to question the man who they didn't recognise wearing the uniform of an officer. He was probably from another precinct, aiding where he could.

His face was, in a word, generic. Mundane. Entirely unmemorable.

In his hands, he carried a rifle - police issue, but one of the more lethal examples of their mundane arsenal. Not one a patrolling officer normally carried. But he wasn't patrolling, and these circumstances weren't normal. For all anyone knew, a swarm of demon insect men might spawn out of the nearest manhole at a moment's notice. It was better to be prepared.

As the SUV entered his vision, he watched impassively. Waiting.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top