A Million Eyes

[Vernon Hall]

[OOC: This thread will be the first chronological step for my character Vernon, where he begins as a fugitive on Nar Shaddaa. I thought it could be a good opportunity for any Republica or Bounty Hunter characters to attempt to hunt him down, or other characters to help him. I want to disable death in this thread though since it is literally his first step.]

Somewhere on Nar Shaddaa...

Nar Shaddaa was a place of a trillion eyes. They said any man could come here to get lost, but what happened when your face was being shown all over the holonet? projecting on bulletin boards, playing on the news in the centre square, or in cantinas like this one… Vernon hid beneath the folds of his chaperon, letting the cloth obscure his face while he leaned over his drink, looking like a common drunk, watching the Imperial bounty play on the holoprojector in the corner of the bar. Conspiracy, murder, treason—all true.

It was getting too dangerous. He disappeared (he thought) deep into the lower levels of the city moon but even here—especially here, probably—his crime followed him on every wall. He chain-smoked from the long, thin pipe which extended from a compartment in the armrest in order to shroud his booth.

A way off. A way off. A way off. He looked at the clientele in the bar. He would be a fool to look for help here; easier to take him to the Republica in an instant than harbor a fugitive. He needed to blend in with the refugees, but that would be the first place they were looking. His old commander would be gone by now… safe and hopefully far away. For a moment he flashed back to the refugees on the freighter he had been on. He was gunning them all down. There was a wound in him, he could feel it. The roar of the bar dulled in his ears like submerging beneath water.

He had to get out. He had to go further down, down into the slums, to the damned floor of the moon if he needed, somewhere away from his own face. He made a brisk pace across the cantina, paid for his drinks, and left out the front door into a swarm of tattered ponchos, moving through the crowd away from any eyes that met his, casually or intentionally.

​

 

[Metropolis]

Metropolis and every other bounty hunter from Nar Shadaa had heard the news, on a planet where every two bit criminal with two credits to rub together could find a weapon and style themselves a bounty hunter. It was a big deal here for the line of reasoning that Verne was known to have spent time on Nar Shadaa, and if he had gone to Hutta Space to hide, then the ideal place to hide, the place everyone goes to hide, even for Metro back in the day, was also Nar Shadaa. It was as if the whole planet had scoundrels' telepathy. Sightings were being reported all over social media, with evidence of fuzzy holo-records, or just an description posted to holo-net page. Metro didn't buy it. The math simply didn't work. The amount of people who would look like Verne on Nar Shadaa greatly outnumbered the actual Verne. And the amount of Vernes, actual or imagined, that would be stopped was a minority; as stopping a fugitive with military experience who had slaughtered dozens of civilians was a daunting prospect for even the most dedicated of imperial agents on the planet, what few there were, much less the civilians who would have the most opportunities to stop him. Undoubtedly a few Vernes were getting stomped into the ground that night, but by balance of odds none of them would be 'actual Verne', but instead an innocent victim of a vigilante who had a few too many.

But there were further problems with catching this bounty. Verne was what was called in the trade 'snake meat', meaning the risk and time put into catching the target was not worth the meat on him. Snake meat, if someone ate it at all, was typically had by imperial agents; or on some occasions some lucky rookie hunter stupid enough to waste his time and money playing the lottery. For instance, Metropolis was fairly certain this snake was not carrying any of his old electronic comms when he arrived at whatever planet he had landed on, assuming he had landed at all. For obvious enough reasons: the Imperials would of specified a planet if they had detected a known signal of his. Instead all they likely had were hyperspace fumes headed in the direction of Hutt Space. Either that or they had signals intelligence they had to sit on to avoid tipping off the fact that they could get it. Which was worse for Verne, as Imperial assassins might be deployed then. They'd be the only ones trusted to work that intelligence. Bad for Metro too. Tough competition, those sorts. In any case, without signals that a hunter could trace, it was like finding a worm in a snake pit.

"Or like a snake in a worm pit." Metropolis whispered to himself. He supped from his steaming noddle soup. It was only because his pilot droid said there was a several hour backlog for getting take-off permission at the spaceport, and he once knew someone who said they used to supply deathsticks to an acquaintance of Verne's; that Metro was having a quiet lunch at a noodle joint far from the local port. He was flipping through Nar Shadaa social media looking for any hint of Verne. Mostly it was just people venting frustration. Exclamations as to how such a high profile fugitive could escape Imperial clutches, with responses to go to a Shadaa slum sometime to find out just how slippery their hands were. Sliding his own fingers across his datapad Metro nearly choked.

A short holo-film of what looked like Verne. This one was sharp. It didn't have an attention grabbing caption, it was merely titled 'This him?'. The image seemed to be of a man not trying to draw much attention. Not uncommon. The clothing and the way he moved instantly reminded Metro of the typical movement of an armed swordsman. It was all very telling. But due to the sheer amount of people on Nar Shadaa, Metro still only gave it a 30% chance. He quickly responded to the post 'Maybe, follow him.' What had Metro also dash out of the restaurant without paying as he typed that was that he recognized the area the short file had been recorded in. It was close.

"Imperial Peace Officer." Metro said. The more intimidating sounding word for bounty hunter was the last thing the shop owner heard as Metro ran out. He hopped into his airspeeder and fished out his signal tracer, fixing it on the signal of the user who had posted the file while trying to drive with his other hand. He had to hurry. It could be much excitement for nothing. But maybe the math had worked this time. Maybe Verne was no longer snake meat.

@Tundra

 

[Vernon Hall]

The crowd flowed like water through the wide space of the street, and Vernon moved up-stream, guiding meandering bodies gently around him; he was hardly there at all. He took each moment to glance over his shoulders—moving left, looking left—moving right, looking right—and kept his eyes peeled for other sets of eyes; eyes that were looking; very different from the glazed faces of the refugees, watching the tread of their feet or staring sadly into the skyline at the neon, drawn to them like homeless insects.

A small family came his way in a huddled unit and he gave them a wide berth, coming around the right side of them, and looking back through the open space they made at eye level. He caught the small glint of a holo-recorder light in the eye, darted from it for a second, and looked back: it was aimed directly at him. It was recording!

The man holding the camera was nearly fifteen metres away, on the other side of the herd. There was no way he was getting to him without causing a scene. If he ran, that would cause a scene as well; but sliding slowly through the herd wouldn't get him anywhere, whoever he was had obviously followed him this far. He saw the cantina far off at the end of the street. They had been watching him for a long time.

He turned away from the recorded and continued upwards through the crowd. A single recorder! Was that all it took? He moved to the right side of the street and fell against the rail at the edge of the platform. The city burned brightly, climbing levels above him; and it glowed softer and softer on the way down, a virtual chasm at the centre of everything. He sat, propped his knees up, and hung his head sideways, letting his jaw slacken like a drunk—another empty soul at the edge of the world—and the crowd passed him by without so much as an embarrassed glance.

Through the crowd, he saw the small flashlight searching...

 

[Metropolis]

In his airspeeder, Metro updated the profile he had in his head of Vernon Hall, assuming he was on Nar Shadaa. If he was smart he'd avoid anyone he had known. Even close friends. After getting a mark like his on your reputation there was no telling who might send a message to the Imperials. He'd probably be in a place he didn't normally frequent, again, assuming he was smart. By all accounts he performed well in his service. There had been a few interviews from aghast former acquiantances of his, that he was one to follow rules, that they couldn't believe it. None of them military of course, they kept their heads down when confronted by journalists by simple instinct, and even without that they knew their careers depended on keeping their army's and their own uniforms as clean as possible, and any association with Hall would leave a permanent mark. So assuming he was smart he'd likely be on his own, with a dwindling supply of credits, and in a place he didn't know. Further, if he was dumb he'd have likely been caught by now, so Metro went with smart.

Of course this was also assuming he was sane. There had been some theories floating that he had snapped, or drug use had made him go bonkers. But if his his head was still stuck in an asteroid field, he should of also been found by now. So if he was suffering from some mental issue at this moment, it wasn't the kind that made you do stupid things evidently. But it could make him very dangerous. Metro clicked his teeth at the thought. He generally didn't go after targets with military experience, possibly nuts, and desperate. Not alone. He was simply not confident enough in his own skills. But there were few options at the moment, and he did like the idea of taking down the bounty by his lonesome.

If there was a fight waiting for Metro he considered his options. Yes. He might have a chance. But he was a few blocks from the signal trace. He slowed the air-speeder down and stopped it a block from the trace, opposite the direction it seemed to be headed. He'd have to approach the situation delicately. He checked back on the social media post. It was blowing up. That was a problem if he wanted the bounty all to himself. He left his blaster rifle in the airspeeder as he got out and hurried down the street. It was a sort of light jog, like someone trying to stop someone that dropped their wallet. It would be noticed, but he didn't mind. He had come up with an approach that would work. Maybe. He was dressed for going off world. A little more respectable than his usual day wear on the planet.

That idiot thought Metro, upon seeing the charge he had left with following a deadly fugitive. For a moment he was concerned he wouldn't be able to pick out the person following Hall out of a crowd, and thus not catch the snake without the bloodhound, but evidently the hound had made no pains to conceal following Hall. But that wasn't all bad.

"Hey, you. Stupid." Metro said to the wannabe citizen journalist. It got his attention, but the man didn't look sure if he was stupid or not. "Yeah you. Put that thing down." Metro confirmed and guided the man's arm down with his own hand.

"Beat it." The man gave him some of that old Nar Shadaa attitude, clearly not expecting to be handled.

"I told you to follow. Not get killed." Metro said. After a moment, there was a flash of recognition in the man's face. "That him?" Metro added and pointed. The other man took another moment, still clearly annoyed, but recovered from his offense and nodded. It was tough to see through the crowd, but it looked like the man he had been following was huddled against a rail. Metro's sighed. It just looked like some drunk. Assuming it was Hall, whatever had happened in between those images being flashed everywhere, clean cut with that reserved, prideful air that military men always pose in, had not been to Hall's advantage. He looked quite the mess in fact. And maybe a little drunk. Assuming it was his target, Metro mentally congratulated him on the camouflage. It's precise effortlessness had probably saved him for this long. Everyone was expecting the butcher to have wrapped himself in 9 layers of disguises. But Metro had to deal with stupid first. He discreetly flashed a hand signal indicating membership to a particularly fearsome gang. One he was pretty sure had turf close by. One that he was not a part of.

"That's not him. This is our area. Leave." Metro acted like this was his turf. Ownership meant it was his gang's responsibility to keep it safe enough to commit profitable crimes in, and therefore did not contain Hall. Regular folks just here to buy drugs or have some other type of fun had nothing to worry about. But they should not come in recording. Subtext was everything on Nar Shadaa, and Metro hoped the man was 'local' enough to get it.

"And give me those cigarra." Metro snatched the pack from the man's pocket, who now wouldn't meet his gaze. He also hoped dissuading the man would be reflected in dissuading competitors following the earlier post on the holonet. But that was out of his hands. Metro turned and pushed his way through the crowd towards the man against the rail. In case it was him, he approached naturally and calmly, relieving all tension from his hurried gait earlier. He needed to get a good look at him, but also keep him calm. Still, his holdout blaster was poised ready to fall into his hand, up his left sleeve, his vibroknuckles were sheathed across his right hand, and his blaster pistol was in a shoulder holster on his left side, under his clothes; as he was never one to take a chance. He wasn't sure they had to make an appearance yet. But they were ready to. Assuming Vernon didn't try to escape or draw a weapon, Metro walked right up to him.

"Hey man. Need a hand?" Metro stood facing him and extended his right hand, palm up, towards him. "Drunks can't loiter here. Interferes with business."

 

[Vernon Hall]

He felt the way his neck hung from his shoulders. It was real now. He was not drunk, only lost, at the end, defeated. It was easy to forget the roar of spacecraft here. It was so loud, so constant, that it replaced senses at the baseline. He could sleep here if he liked, and if all the sound ceased in an instant, replaced by silence, he would wake in a terrible fright. The crowd continued to flow like water. Here, leaned against the rail, he was on the river bank, and when he died he would be picked up by the current and disappeared into the system - just an expression of Nar Shaddaa, he supposed. It could be nice if he gave it enough time.

Like all murderers, or anyone who could not turn back, regret spilled like black tar from his heart and weighed sickeningly in his stomach. He appealed childishly to anything that was listening. Please. Please. Please. And rested his head against the cold steel, watching the empty faces pass him by, envying the small worries they had: accommodation, food, debts; if only.

He closed his eyes and thought that he would sleep. If the man with the recorder came near enough, he would kill him. He was quiet for a long time, before he heard... something. In him? Was it in his mind? He opened his eyes to see and found, strangely, that it was clearer with his eyes closed. He listened. He thought he heard an echo... like something at the very end of a canyon, after the shout has had a long way to travel. He closed his eyes again. He thought. He thought he could see the river. But he opened his eyes and... He closed them again. Listened. And found that it was silent. The metal and the machines stripped away... leaving something... the current laid bare. He was almost horrified when it began to flow strongly. He felt. Felt. LIFE. And yet for some reason thought he might die, as though they were same thing. He was slipping away, the borders of his mind became tremendously thin, and for a second he could not remember who he was, if he was. Before he AWAKENED.

And knew - knew - that someone was coming. He looked through the crowd and saw him. Felt him. He was strikingly different from the rest of the current, he felt the way that he moved through the stream, passively and in control, just as Vernon had. And when he saw him, he was: pale, platinum, tattooed, dangerously casual, at home here in the worst kind of way. But, nevertheless, he stayed seated against the rail, looking up at the man's extended hand.

You... he said. Do you—do you feel it?

@Lets Awesome

 

[Yura]

"Vernon Hall..." Yura sat in the cantina on her homeward of Nar Shadda and watched as the man's face flashed on the holograms. She knew this man. He had helped her with a job not so long ago. To think that he was actually someone so important. Someone worth so much money. He really hadn't seemed like all that when they had originally met. Just some nice guy who was down on his luck. She wondered how he had made his way from Tatooine all the way out here. As she recalled he didn't have a ship of his own. Though, he could have easily booked passage on a transport out of Mos Eisley with the money she had paid him, so she supposed that was no real secret. But why Nar Shadda? True, the place was a cesspool, and one could potentially disappear in a place like this. People disappeared all the time around these parts. But it was still an Imperial-held territory. As the so-called 'capital' of Hutt Space, this place was crawling with plenty of Imperial agents and bounty hunters working for the Empire. As far as being a good place to disappear... It was certainly a place where one could, but definitely not the best place one could. Especially if one was trying to hide from the eyes of the Imperials. Still, Yura supposed Vernon might not actually be here. These holovid bounty tips were never all that accurate. They probably just guessed that he was heading this direction and assumed that he was coming to the most heavily populated area in this corner of space. He was probably sectors away from this place by now.

Suddenly, a new hologram appeared. This time it was on Yura's personal table holopad rather than the larger wall-mounted ones. That meant this one was on the local net. There he was. Vernon again. This time he was visible scampering about on the streets of Nar Shadda themselves. A caption appeared from the one making the post. "This him?" Yura sat upright on her sofa. "That idiot... He actually came here of all places?" It was almost definitely him. Sure, he looked raggedy. Even more so than when she first met him. Definitely looked as though he could use a shower. But it was him, she felt confident of that. Yura began typing on the holopad keyboard. After a minute or two, she stood up and tossed a few credits down on the table. There were coordinates. He was close by. The fool. Every bounty hunter in the sector was about to come crashing down on his head. How the hell did he expect to walk away from this? He should have made a run for the far outer rim, or even some of the unknown sectors if he really wanted to disappear. She wasn't about to let some Imperial-loving bounty hunter scum cash in on this mistake.

Yura was born and raised on the streets of Nar Shadda. She knew her history. The bounty hunters used to serve the hutts and obey the cartel laws. Sure, they were ruthless cutthroats and would probably gun down their own mothers if there were a profit in it for them. But nonetheless, they lived by a code and had some form of pride in who and what they were. Those that had turned on the old rulers and sided with the Empire were traitors in Yura's eyes. The cartels and syndicates had not been good rulers for the people who lived under their reign, but at least they had given a damn about their territories. The imperials were just sucking the sectors dry of their resources to fuel the main body of the Imperial Republica based back on Courescant. And to make matters worse, they were using the local populations to do so. Slavery. The Empire would have the rest of the galaxy believe that they had civilized the wild and savage realms of Imperial Hutta, but in reality they had simply enslaved anyone who wouldn't fall in line with their wishes and put them to work in places like Kessel, harvesting coaxium and illegal spice for those back in the inner rim. It infuriated Yura. At least under the cartels, if you paid your homage to the Hutts, you could pretty much live freely, as you wished. Those must have been good times. Or at least slightly better times.

Yura moved through the streets of her home like a local. Blending in despite her orange hair and her cybernetic arm. She wore her ranger scout armor today and the cloak wrapped around her comfortably, hiding her Westar blaster pistol hanging from her right thigh and her D-7 Blaster pistol on her left thigh. In her left hand she carried a rifle case that housed her Stun Scattergun, and her HH-69 grenades hung from her belt. She hadn't come here to this planet unprepared. This place was like a war zone in her mind. Old fears from her childhood driving her to comfort herself with the presence of weaponry. As she made her way to the location where Vernon was, she muttered to herself, "There is no way I'm going to let an imperial sympathizer profit off of that fool's mistake." As she came to an intersection, Yura stopped and pressed back against the wall to her left. She peeked around the corner. This was the location, she was pretty sure. And sure enough, there, just down the street was what appeared to be Vernon, crouched up against the wall. Possibly drunk, she couldn't be certain. And there, behind him, was a silver-haired young man who seemed to be speaking to him. The silver-man didn't appear to be armed, but on these streets, if one assumed that most people were carrying, then one would be grossly underestimating the situation. The man had to have a weapon. Was he a bounty hunter? Yura couldn't be sure, but with the holovid having gone out, and the fact that NO ONE ever stopped to offer a helping hand on Nar Shadda, she could imagine. Pulling back behind the wall, Yura flipped open her case and pulled out her scattergun, tucking it under her cybernetic left arm and hiding it under her cloak. With her right she grabbed one of her HH-69s and twisted the dial a bit, then tucked that arm under her cloak. With her face hidden under her armor mask, Vernon shouldn't recognize her, and the silver man should have no reason to. Yura ducked around the corner and began moving with there general foot traffic in such a path that would take her right by the two men. This would be interesting to say the least.

@Lets Awesome @Tundra

 

[Metropolis]

It wasn't that crazy man's charisma that had touched Metropolis. Wild eyed speech with a rhythmic cadence that sometimes tricked the sane into thinking maybe, just maybe, they were goners too. No. He had felt it before the man had even begun to speak. On the approach. The distraught power the plea held almost hit Metro like a starfighter, all engines blazing. At least, it would have affected most people that way. It was a tortured, soul rending feeling. It wasn't old either. This wasn't some street beggar with experience in their own anguish. One that had learned how to keep the pain at bay long enough to ask for a few credits chits. This was fresh. Real fresh.

Nor was it typical of Metro's telepathy. Metro had not reached out to the man's mind. It was almost as if the man had broadcasted his thoughts, no, his feelings, to Metro. And that subtle tingling had come along. That strange, out of place feeling that Metro knew was the force. Was Vernon attuned to it? Metro was sure there had been nothing reported on that. But like a glove found on a refugee ship devoid of refugees, the feeling fit just right.

Yet for all its power Metro was a biologist opening up a mynock, experiencing this man's internal world. He was used to death and all the emotions surrounding it. Ever since he could understand his place in the world he knew he and those around him may not be long for whatever came after. That was the picture painted to him since he was a child. Taking lives, others being taken, it all mattered little in his world. What was important was you hit first before you were hit. In a world like that, Metro, then Qorus Qorus, had wrestled with many exstential turbulent crises. What had come out the other end was unrecognizable to what had come before. Metro's hunt of Vernon was not in the slightest motivated by the plight of the refugees' families. It was not some sort of justice, or even revenge. He wanted the credits. It was that simple. Metro didn't normally feel guilt for his actions, much less considered the apportioning of blame useful. Those were simply not part of his internal equations. What was important were his future actions, and how they could strengthen his position as it stood. Whatever it may be. When Metropolis felt the man's troubles he was at first confused why he felt that way, then thought of how to use it to his advantage.

And now standing in front of him Metro could see his face clearly. All previous doubts were erased. He was sure now. This was Vernon Hall. And another mental struggle Vernon might be having suddenly hit him. It was so obvious, but he had been so wrapped up in the news about the monster, the butcher, he hadn't even considered it. Hall might want to die. As unyielding as the force had been. The guilt over what he truly was. Inside, the monster he was. Even if no one around him had seen it. He was after all next to a railing. And he was desperate to escape. He could try to fly to escape his problems. So Metro had to play this smart. He would use an old technique Umabrans had used as far back as records existed. Thinking what you wanted to say to someone. This kept the mind busy, and made it less likely you'd think a thought you didn't want a telepathic reader to see. Or in this case, one Vernon could feel from their apparent connection.

"Sure did. Let's get you some rest." Metro said and nodded in response to Vernon's query. Of course the mind moved faster than the lips, so he also had more to think:

Whatever you're blaming yourself for, wasn't your fault. You've been strong. You are strong. You'll get through this too. Even if you don't realize it. But you've been carrying this burden all alone. I'm going to help you. Everything will be fine now. You just need some rest.

Metro pictured images of laying down to sleep as he thought. Assuming Vernon didn't make any sudden movements to attack, at the same time, Metro would quickly take a step to Vernon's right side and turn towards the crowd. Metro would then do two motions simultaneously: he'd squat down next to him, leaning back behind his right side, and in one practiced, fluid motion, with his right hand he'd remove his blaster pistol from its holster, keeping it underneath his own jacket.

The moment his squat would be down to Vernon's level he would then do two more motions: With his own left arm, underhanded grip, very firmly grab Vernon's right arm; and simultaneously shoot a stun bolt into Vernon's right side at point blank, the pistol under his own armpit. He'd keep his eyes between Vernon and the crowd the whole time. Dangers would stiil be able to come from both ends. The gang he was pretending to be might actually arrive. Maybe competition did. Maybe both. Authorities or someone trying to intervene to help were unlikely, just as Metro would know that what he would be doing would likely be interpreted as robbing, not helping, a drunk man.

Assuming he did try to jump before he shot him, Metro would of course grab his lottery ticket with both hands and try to pull him back with all the strength his unending greed could furnish him. He'd be unyielding. As steadfast a man as he knew how to be.

Assuming they were in close contact though, Metro would know the threat from Vernon would mostly have been neutralized. He knew his target was trained in long arms and had done some sword work. This was typical of military training. There you usually had to take someone out from a distance, with your friends forming a firing line, and even likely knew who you were firing at. Instead of say, a busy street on Nar Shadaa were the street thugs knew you had a most a fraction of a moment to fire a long arm before they could close on you with a vibroknife. Their choice of cuts then, with you holding a useless hunk of metal.

And a vibrosword too was rendered ineffective if your opponent had managed to move chin to chin, and had a weapon that made it easier to pluck a piece out of your face from that distance. Way inside your comfort bubble.

@Tundra @Yuan

 

[Vernon Hall]

Whatever you're blaming yourself for, wasn't your fault. You've been strong. You are strong. You'll get through this too. Even if you don't realize it. But you've been carrying this burden all alone. I'm going to help you. Everything will be fine now. You just need some rest...

It washed over him. The voice was benevolent and coming from... he didn't know. He still ebbed between reality and... he didn't know that either: the machines, the tattered bodies, the roar of the planet, or the quiet, ever-flowing, powerful, river. Which was realer? On what side should he operate? He had a feeling the two were one, if he could only adjust the lenses to fit over one another. But he didn't know how, and now wasn't the time.

The voice though. That came from the other plane. That came from the Umbaran who moved gently to his right side, still standing for the time being. Vernon wanted to sleep. He wanted to fall asleep beneath the Umbaran's voice... what had he felt earlier? With his regular intuition—with his eyes—what he he seen? ... pale, platinum, tattooed, dangerously casual, at home here in the worst kind of way... But looks. Looks could be. No. Kriff, no, think back. Looks were everything.

He felt at the back of his neck the way the man began to squat beside him. Like a friend. He could hear his voice still. He remembered that he was lying comfortably on a bed, going to sleep. His bed? Some other bed? And where? He felt it. Soft but... leathery. He was laying on a bed. But in a moment of epiphany he saw: a bed of snakes! And felt the hand grab his right arm, firmly, not at all like a friend.

He had been a fool. He had been a sorry case. He had been another empty soul at the edge of the world. But, whatever else he was, first and foremost he was an organism with ancient proclivities programmed in his DNA, it said: SURVIVE; and that desperate reflex kicked in.

He had let this bounty hunter in. Let him come far too close. He was in the world of machine and calamity again, although he heard at the edges of his mind, so faintly, the hissing of snakes. The way the Umbaran crouched on his right side, taking his right arm, meant that his fingers were turned inwards to him. Vernon darted his left hand to the opposing hand and would: grab the middle and ring finger and snap them back in an instant—small digit manipulation drilled over and over at the academy, very handy—and in the exact moment pressure was released from his right arm, reach with it behind his lower back where he kept the vibroblade in its horizontal sheathe and unsheathe it, the arc of the blade coming vertically up on his right side in the same motion, drawing a 180 degree slash likely to cut a deep gash in the Umbaran's left thigh.

 

[Yura]

Well, things just got more interesting. As Yura slowly walked down the street in a line that would take her right past Vernon and the other man, two things happened, one right after the other. The first was that the strange, pale man knelt down beside Vernon. If he were a bounty hunter, why the hell would he bother to do something like that? He had his quarry crouched down right in front of him, just waiting to be gunned down or stunned from a standing position at a perfectly safe distance away. Yet, for some strange reason the man walked right up to the fugitive and knelt beside him. Then, he went and grabbed Vernon by the arm and was fiddling with something in his jacket. Yura couldn't make out what it was that the man was doing, but she was willing to bet it wasn't good. Chances were still high that this guy was some sort of bounty hunter after the reward on Vernon's head, but he could also be a thief trying to steal something from what appeared to be a hopeless drunken drifter. Or, he could be a slaver looking to fill his quota with the sorry scum who called the streets of Nar Shadda their home. Yura couldn't be sure anymore what the man was given his unfathomable actions, but she was willing to bet that if she didn't stop whatever was happening here, she was going to loose her chance to get Vernon herself. And she just couldn't have that.

But then, before Yura had a chance to react, Vernon finally made his move. As the pale humanoid grabbed him, Vernon lashed out, grabbing the man in return to pull him off and slashing out with a blade from the back of his waist. Well, it was good to see that the man wasn't actually drunk. Or at least he wasn't as drunk as he had been acting before. Vernon's state of drunkenness was still up for debate, as the other man's touching him could have just roused him out of his drunken stupor momentarily. Yura didn't know for sure. But one thing was for sure, and that was that Vernon had just made a very decisive move. Clearly he viewed this man as threat, and someone to be distrusted. That simplified things, at least from Yura's perspective.

She had been getting close by this point, and was only about two meters away at the point that Vernon decided to lash out. This made for a wonderful opportunity, as both men would likely be momentarily distracted. Flipping her right hand out from under her cloak, Yura tossed the HH-69 Adhesive Grenade out. The orb would hit the ground right in between the two men and suddenly explode violently into a cloud of sticky adhesive which would quickly settle on and pin down anything it touched. The two men would be hard pressed to escape the two meter radius. As the grenade went off, Yura flipped her left arm out from under her cloak and hefted her Stun Scattergun, grabbing the forestock with her now empty right hand, Yura cautiously approached the cloud as it began to settle. Leveling her stun gun, she pulled the trigger and familiar "doo-wop" rang out as the wave of stunning energy shot out and through the adhesive cloud right where the two men had been standing.

@Tundra @Lets Awesome

 

[Metropolis]

Spoiler: OOC

Metro's stun gun shot is an auto-hit as it was not responded to. As it occurred at the same time that he grabbed Vernon's arm, and Vernon's post describes his arm as already grabbed, it had to have occurred before both before Metro's fingers were subsequently grabbed to release the arm, and before the sword was unsheathed. This also changes the timeline, and due to shared time, it also gives a moment to preempt Yura's actions (As well as making them illogical).

Metro's stun gun rang out as it hit Vernon's torso and he could feel his weight slump against him, as such his hand could never have twisted his fingers or his sword have been unsheathed to attack Metro. And as Vernon hadn't lashed out, Yura hadn't yet found her opening, and hadn't yet thrown her grenade or fired her scattergun shots.

Still looking at the crowd Metro saw another hunter in the crowd. The armored face was unmistakable, the only people that wore that armor on Nar Shadaa were other hunters as the only scouting to be had on a planet covered in slums was catching people. Instinctually, he swung Vernon around between himself and the hunter and as he flipped his blaster pistol across Vernon's shoulders, pointing directly at her groin, he also switched it to lethal with a distinctive 'click' as stun shots against an armored target were not optimal.

"Imperial Peace Officer. Move along. I don't share." Metro said almost with a feral growl, in case he was wrong about her being a hunter. If she didn't keep moving on her trajectory, if she instead slowed down, turned towards him, stopped, or made any threatening movement; Metro's finger gripping the trigger would instantly fire three shots in between her hips, the largest unarmored area on her he could see. Being so close, and with his arm steadied, the shots would be impossible to dodge in time.

 

[Vernon Hall]

He felt the phantom frustration as in a dream: the way one carried out an action to no effect. He reached, he thought he cut an arc. But instead he keeled back against the ground, seized by the energy; like being bound by his own cells. He stared at the sky, watching the stars in the distance waver behind the smog, glistening many exotic colours in the gas.

 

[Vian Windrider]

Vian Windrider was walking the streets of the slummy city moving from scum filled watering hole to watering hole looking for a traitor. A vile little creature who was wanted for the pointless slaughter of a number of innocent lives, not unlike the coward to called himself Emperor and glassed and entire planet rather then face the Dark Lord in open combat. The acolyte of the Old Empire was on walking toward his fourth or maybe fifth cantina when the force carried a female voice to his ears with the name of his prey.

Vian then simply allowed the growing sounds of chaos to lead him, it didn't take long. While he walked he concentrated and build up his power. His hate and anger feeding his connection to the dark side and growing his power. Until finally he found what he was looking for. Pushing past those who were trying to escape the firefight and into the cantina in time to find what looked to be his prey being held up by a white haired....something, pretending to be imperial cop ? and a that of another hunter or merc who was on the business end of ol white hair's rifle.

He did not bring attention to himself yet, rather continued to let the white haired hunter stand off with the female. Using her as the distraction he was take his right saber hilt into his hand, and start to flank the three of them from the white hair's (@Metropolis) right. Just out of his view if he continued to focus on the girl.

Spoiler: Tags

@Faded Truth
@Yuan
@Tundra
@Lets Awesome

 

[Markus Valentine]

.

"Lucky motherkarking day..."the Pantoran thought to himself. Smuggler's moon was a lair for criminal activity and the Red Skulls were no newcomers when it came to business dwellings in the undercity. The Imperial traitor's bounty was hazard pay for the crime syndicate and the boy had foolishly made the mistake of appearing within cantinas of Nar Shaddaa. Was he expecting that others would not recognize him? As easily as he was identified by other hunters, so was he by networks of street level thugs loyal to the skulls. Additionally, a distant associate had purchased his services few days ago and the severance package had enough credits to tempt the Mandalorian into providing security detail.

He was standing leaning against a street shop, eyes out in front to catch a glimpse at the slight scuffle taking place. He was dressed in his custom heavy beskar'gam, Shriek-Hawk blaster rifle now carried out in his hand while the strill pistol was stowed as his sidearm on the left thigh and two fragmentation grenades were on his belt. A vibroknife concealed away in his boots; eyes stared from underneath the classic T shaped Visor helmet as his armored form continue to advance towards the others. The legendary mythosaur sigil was clearly evident, raising further concerns from those in the crowd who knew what it symbolized. As Vian was making his flank, Markus had now approached approximately within 30 meters behind Metropolis but still out of view from the white haired hunter's awareness.

@Taz @Yuan @Tundra @Lets Awesome

 

[Yura]

"Shit." Yura muttered to herself as the silver-haired man spun around behind Vernon and pointed his blaster right at her. As the man identified himself as a licensed bounty hunter, Yura slipped to her right, ducking behind a rodian who had been walking by and was startled by Metropolis's shout. Raising her scattershot from beneath her cloak, Yura pulled the trigger, stunning the rodian from behind, and wrapped her right arm around his neck and across his chest, holding him up in front of herself as a living shield. This was unfortunate. She hadn't expected to be picked out of the crowd quite so easily. The silver haired man must have had quite a bit of experience doing this sort of thing to be able to recognize danger close so rapidly. Yura raised her scattershot to rest on the rodian's shoulder, pointed at Metropolis and Vernon. By now the crowds had realized that something was afoot by the two warriors with their captive shields pointing weapons at each other and they were quickly dispersing. There went more cover. Great.

Yura peeked around the rodian's neck, her helmet visor just barely visible. "Ya'know, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. My name's Yura! What's yours? I don't actually care. You just happen to have something that I really want right now. If you'll just kindly leave it there and kark off like a good little boy, we can all go back to doing whatever pointless crap gets our rocks off. Same as before all of this unpleasantness." Yura was blunt, as she frequently was, especially when in potentially uncomfortable situations like this. She wasn't one to beat around the bush. As she looked at the bounty hunter, her scout HUD zoomed in on his pistol. It was a surprisingly small weapon. Wait, was that a DH-7 blaster? Yura actually had one of those on her person at that moment. That gave her an idea. Their current situation wasn't entirely unfavorable to her. Sure, this bounty hunter had his hands on what appeared to be a stunned Vernon, but that was actually to his disadvantage. Vernon was worth twice as much alive as dead, and one could almost always count on a bounty hunter's greed. There was a good chance this man wanted Vernon alive, despite using him as a shield, whereas she didn't really care about her own shield. She would taunt this silvery man a bit. See if she couldn't rustle his feathers. Maybe goad him into making a mistake. "That's an adorable little weapon you've got there, friend. I've got the same model in pink! But honestly, in the state he was in, you probably could have just hit him with your purse. I think that would have worked just fine."

As the once crowded street emptied, Yura became aware of some stragglers. People who didn't seem to be running away. They kind of stood out a bit when literally everyone else WAS running away. The two figures were hard to make out in the mildly-lit streets and they were still a little ways away, but they seemed to be converging on the silver-haired bounty hunter from his right and from his rear. Yura did nothing to give away what she saw. They could prove beneficial to her... Or they could be very detrimental. If there was a battle royal here, it could leave Vernon in a bad way. And she was very keen to discuss some things with him. Yura estimated the distance between herself and the bounty hunter to be roughly ten meters. Within range of her scattershot, though the further away the less of a punch it packed. The other figures were not in range it seemed. Should she change weapons? Decisions, decisions.

@Tundra @Lets Awesome @Taz @Faded Truth

 

[Metropolis]

Spoiler: OOC

As Yura did not follow the trajectory she had been on, Metro fired at her three times last turn. These were not mentioned in Yuan's post. They are auto-hits. Yuan's post is interrupted. Yuan correctly identified that a large amount of time passed my last post, and Markus and Vians'. As both Vian and Markus are across the street and to the right, neither of them would now be able to see Vernon through the crowd or smoke.

Metropolis fired five more shots at Yura's head, in very quick succession, tracking her head if it flailed about due to the pain she was likely experiencing, and also standing up if he had to get the angle right due to her falling. They would most likely hit, being so close. In case she lived, he at the same time threw a smoke grenade between them to cover his retreat, letting go of Vernon in the process, who slumped face down. Thick smoke exploded in all directions and enveloped Metro.

He had warned her, of course. This was not his fault. What had she been thinking? Trying to stop the apprehension of the most wanted man on Nar Shaddaa. The guild allowed the use of such force if necessary. And with the weapons he could now see on her it would be easy to justify. On the contrary, he would likely be congratulated for getting an illegitimate bounty hunter off the streets, as hunters hated nothing more than those who went after hunters instead of bounties.

As the people who had witnessed what happened began to push those that hadn't further into the street, Metro shot another stun bolt from his blaster pistol at Vernon, dropped it to grab hold of both of Vernon's hands, and began dragging him face down back to his speeder as quickly as possible in a slight crouch. The direction happened to be away from two men who had no idea that Vernon Hall had just been captured by someone else, but would probably have been disappointed if they had known.

//exit thread

 

[Markus Valentine]

.

A large grin on the Pantoran's face would indicate his desire to kill and the bounty he would claim from this fiasco, whether dead or alive. Markus was adjacent on the railing close to 25 meters away from Metropolis, and still out of sight given he was behind him and on his exterior right flank, additionally considering that Metropolis' attention was likely on Yura. Armored fingers brought the Shriek-hawk upwards in a single, fluid motion as eyes narrowed through the scope and trigger finger fired three bolts aimed at the bounty hunter's center mass right after Metropolis had himself fired five more shots towards Yura's head and prior to his attempt at tossing the smoke grenade. Given that Metropolis was focused on shooting Yura, he would likely have no idea these bolts were coming for him and unlikely to mount a reasonable method of avoiding them.

@Lets Awesome @Taz @Yuan @Tundra

 

[Vian Windrider]

Vian was well within range to strike at the white haired hunter and take the traitor's seemingly stunned body for himself. The fool was blind to the danger around him and fully focused on the colorful haired hunter ten of so meters away. Vian waited for Metro to reply to his target (@Yuan) by opening fire on her, committing himself to attacking to woman and leaving himself open. Vian activated and was about to force throw the weapon when the rain of blaster fire came from above.

Quickly then, Vian shunted his stored up force energy to his left hand and directed a powerful force blast at the female hunter push her away and hopefully out of the fight. The Sith would then use the force to pull at the legs of Vernon (@Tundra) and attempt to pull him free from what ever was left of the other hunter (@Lets Awesome ). Vian's saber was still activated and at the ready to defend himself should the others or the stranger (@Faded Truth ) try to continue the fight.

 

[Yura]

"What a sheb-" Yura's words were cut off as Metropolis's blaster fire erupted in response to her calling out to him. True, she had been taunting him a bit, but she had thought that perhaps he might converse back a bit. At least throw out some witty banter or something. But no, he was just going to shoot. That seemed to be his modus operandi from what she had seen thus far. Hefting the stunned rodian in front of her, Yura felt the first four shots impact his chest. The poor bastard must be dead by now. But then, the fifth shot came in and slipped past the rodian's thin body, catching Yura in the left thigh. "Huhhh!" Yura gasped in pain as the blaster bolt burned her flesh in one of the less-armored parts of her body. That karking sheb! He had managed to hit her! This freaking rodian was way to skinny, damnit! She should have found a fatter species. Yura's stance immediately faltered and she shifted her weight to her right leg. Holding the smoldering rodian was now becoming quite the task, but she couldn't afford to drop him as the corpse was her only cover. She probably shouldn't have approached from the middle of the street, but at the time moving amongst the crowd seemed the best idea. She would have to remember this lesson if she got out of here alive. Hug the walls...

As Yura's mind rushed to try and figure out how to move from here, she suddenly became aware of a sound like rushing wind coming from her side. Glancing over, she saw dust being blown off the street in a line coming straight toward her. For a half second time seemed to stop and Yura wondered if even mother nature was against her. But then she recognized this thing for what it was. Yura spun on her one good leg, swinging the rodian between her and the force blast, just as it impacted her. The blast hit like a grenade, throwing Yura and the rodian corpse back across the street to impact the wall of the building behind her. Yura's armor absorbed the worst of the impact, but her breath was knocked out of her and the impact felt like it jarred something loose in her. The rodian impacted the wall next to her, a bit harder, with a sickening crack. Well, if he hadn't been dead before, he surely was now. Yura fell to the ground coughing. She pushed out and to the side with her arms, rolling behind a neon sign advertising the shady club on who's door she had nearly just knocked. She panted heavily, trying to catch her breath. That had been sith sorcery just now! So one of the lumps of bantha fodder was here. Could they be after Vernon? That seemed the most plausible scenario, unless they just happened to be passing by and decided to enforce the law or something. She supposed some of them did that sort of thing. Yura leaned over and peeked cautiously around the side of the sign as she caught her wind. She had hoped to get Vernon out and away from those hunting him, but with the current state of things, she was becoming less and less confident that she could pull off such a feat. Why that stupid sheb had decided to come to Nar Shadda of all places... This whole mess was a kick in the teeth she didn't need.

@Lets Awesome @Taz @Faded Truth

 

[Markus Valentine]

.

[OOC: It has been > 48 hours since my attack on Let's Awesome without a response, and as such, auto-hit rules apply].

Markus continued to smile as he watched his three bolts hit their mark to the teeth, the corrosive damage seeping through Metropolis' exterior clothing and likely melting away flesh underneath. As the former bounty hunter was riddled with bolts and slumped to the ground, the armored Mandalorian continued his stride forwards, smoke still whispering from the muzzle of his Shriek-Hawk blaster. Vian had done a good job at putting the other hunter out of commission as well with a well placed force smash. The Red Skull enforcer wasn't sure if Metropolis was dead or not but he was certainly out of this fight. His weapon now aimed towards Vernon's unconscious form laying on the ground, before shifting upwards to glance at Yura's position. With blaster rifle pointed in her general way, his focus was on the hunter before speaking to the Sith but kept his eyes still at the only remaining threat.

"Nice job, you weren't lying when you said this shit would get interesting. Let's grab this clown and get the kark out of here before others come.."

@Taz @Yuan @Lets Awesome

 

[Vian Windrider]

The white haired hunter never seemed to see it coming, and if he did he wasn't quick enough. Soon as the Metro went down from Markus' rifle attack, Vian pulled the traitorous Sith Vernon to him and with a little aid from the force again, heaved the still stunned man over his back in a fireman style carry.

With the other hunter seemingly down and out Vian then put his saber away leaving only the force, and his blue skinned partner to cover his back.

I told you, now cover me and we will split the bounty back in Old Empire space. You know the location.

//End thread.

@Faded Truth , @Tundra , @Yuan , @Lets Awesome .