Hotel Checkout

[Tank]

Cain once again found himself in a backwater sector, on a backwater world. He was sick of cleaning up other’s failures. Sick of being contracted to serve as protection for the scum of the galaxy. He wanted to do something greater. He wanted to partake in glorious battles and epic campaigns once more. But the past ten years had been largely quiet. The closest thing to war Cain had been in lately was a particularly nasty debate between him and the flight control tower over which landing pad Cain would use. Cain sighed and attempted to release the stress he was feeling. It wouldn’t help him in the upcoming mission. It would be simple enough. There were only going to be a few men who needed to be taken out; nothing Cain and his counterpart, Mirdala, couldn’t handle.

Apparently a known drug dealer named Roy was being crossed by a buyer, Neevan, and wanted protection to make sure the deal went according to plan; and if it didn’t, to protect Roy from Neevan and his crew.

What did he expect? Cain thought introspectively. When you pick a dangerous and illegal career like smuggling you’re bound to get into a tiff with someone. Sure people put Mercs in the same class as bounty hunters, smugglers, and the scum of the galaxy. But the truth is, we are perfectly respectable soldiers. We get contracts to fight others battles and we do so. Straight forward and legal. No drug dealing, no murders, Cain didn’t know who he was trying to win over so he stopped his thought process and focused back on the mission.

The hotel the mission would be taking place in was fairly straight forward. The meeting would be taking place in a glass paned conference room. It would provide Mirdala with a clear view and shot into the conference room when the time came for her to intervene. Cain pulled over the landspeeder outside of the hotel. He was sure Mirdala would be able to find a place to enter the hotel stealthily and favorably.

“I’ll have my projector on the whole time so you can see and hear everything that’s going on inside. The execute word is Rancor. You have any questions before I head inside to meet with Roy?” Cain said, he voice distorted through his full Aliit’gam armor. There were no fancy bells and whistles, it was nothing more than armor. He had his shockwave pistol on his hip holster, a Rippergun strapped to his back and his Firestorm repeater in his hands. He hoped by coming to the meeting looking as menacing as possible he would be able to squash any notion of betrayal Neevan may have in mind. Cain knew Neevan was a known swoop gang member and the lack of swoops in front of the hotel told Cain that they had beat their mark to the meeting spot.

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

Another job, another paycheck.

Mirdala crouched on the lip of a roof, her visor peering across the street at the glassed-in conference room across and below from her vantage point. Her helmet's optical zoom allowed her to study the room, memorize it centimeter by centimeter. She stood up and pressed a gloved finger to an inconspicuous spot near the hard edge of her visor, returning it to regular view. After studying the target site, she came to a conclusion. Whoever picked this spot for a drug handoff is an idiot. A slow shake of her head was all she had to say on the matter, however, and she turned to inspect her gear for the eleventh time.

Some two-bit gangster was afraid of being ripped off by--surprise--another two-bit gangster. The pay was mediocre, compared to what other jobs were fronting, but it gave her a chance to bleed some of the scum that permeated this rock like stench on a corpse. Workplace bonus, she mused as she knelt to recheck her blaster pistols. The two weapons were small, easy to grab from where they would hang upon her armored thighs, but had extended clips and hair triggers, allowing for immediate response to pressure and a prolonged answer to any threats.

Of course, these were merely back-ups.

Should the poodoo hit the proverbial repulsors, she would charge in, blasters a-firing and cut down any and all sentients that were part of this illicit trade. Ideally, however, Cain's presence would draw almost all of the attackers' attention, allowing her to slip in from behind. A flick of her wrist and a long, narrow blade shot forth from the housing on her left fore-arm. This would be doing the majority of the work...in theory, that is, she reminded herself. If she could slip from gangster to gangster and eliminate them one by one before they realized they had an enemy at their rear as well, she wouldn't have to fire off a single shot. In theory. Then again, there was that piece of intel she'd dug up on her targets.

She hefted the satchel beside the pistols and opened it to peer at its contents. Charges, six with enough force to punch a hole in a durasteel bulkhead. She strode over to the edge of the roof once more to peer, this time, down at the street. Word was that these thugs were swoop racers--and good swoop racers. The last thing Mirdala wanted was a prolonged chase with a swoop gang. Provided she had time enough, she would plant a little parting gift on each bike as a just-in-case-the-poodoo-did-hit-the-repulsors. Planning is key, she thought with a nod. The voice of her partner broke into her thoughts and she turned her helmeted gaze back to the conference room.

"I'll be watching. And no," she replied, "I'm all set on this end."

 

[Tank]

Cain strode the short distance from his landspeeder to the Hotel. Roy was waiting for him behind the front desk. He looked frazzled and skittish. Cain had seen this type of man before, they were the type of man that could get a whole squad of men killed by his actions or inaction.

“Roy?” Cain asked. He was sure it was his contact but he figured getting the man talking would comfort him a little and settle the drug dealer’s nerves. The man simply nodded in response and began to show Cain toward the conference room.

“They’ll be here shortly. I need you to run them off when they do get here.” Roy said in a very quick and anxious voice.

“I thought you wanted to do the deal? The job was to make sure they honored their deal and to protect you if it came to it.” Cain responded inquisitively.

“Yes I know, but I’m not going to deal with these guys anymore. They’re….they’re mean! I refuse to sell to them…and…I’ve already sold my wares anyway.” Roy said defiantly. Cain nearly exploded in rage. If he’d known this he never would have taken the job.

“Listen! I know your type, you use just as many drugs as you sell. You’re going to collect it all so they can sample what you have. You’ll tell them the rest of the spice is located in the loading dock ready for them to take once we get our money. If you so much as give anything away I will personally help Neveen kill you. From here on out you do exactly what I say!” Cain could hear the roar of swoops approaching the hotel.

“If this works out, you’ll get your money, we’ll get our money, and you’ll never have to worry about Neveen’s crew again. By the way, our rate just went up to ten thousand credits.” Cain put his finger on Roy’s chest. “Don’t you dare screw me over again.” Roy scrambled off to collect the few drugs that were no doubt stored near the hotel's grand entryway. Cain listened as the swoops got closer and was glad to see Roy return with an arm full of spice samples.

Cain knew that because of the circumstances he and Mirdala would now have to kill all of Neveen’s men. Cain didn’t mind killing, in fact he was quite good at it, but he preferred making money in much simpler…easier ways. This guy had better not get me killed. Cain thought with a sigh.

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

Annoyance, hard and cutting, burned in Mirdala's mind.

The open comm-connection between her and Cain allowed her to overhear the spineless scum's recent "adjustments" to the plan. She balled a fist and felt the urge to turn her weapon on her employer--the biggest no-no in all of private sector work--but instead contented herself with a few uttered curses in her native tongue. She sighed after calming herself and quickly slung her pistols in their respective holsters, snatched up the satchel in one hand and began her descent to the street level; her pack just pinged a trio of comm-frequencies in active use whose proximity was nearing at rapid speed.

Swoops, she thought, and riders talking trash on their way to a slaughter. Too bad for them, the slaughter would be their own. Because of the damned drugrunner's change of plans, the whole swoop gang would need to burn. Makes no difference to me, she thought as she fast-climbed down the rung ladder on the side of the building, dead scum on a world like this is a given. She risked a quick open-comm comment to her partner. "Swoops incoming, though I'm sure you can hear them by now. Burn them all down?" She herself would be aiming to do just that, but it was a courtesy to let one's partner know that one intended to rain all hell down on a site.

She waited in the alley for the swoops to park, keeping out of sight.

 

[Tank]

“Swoops incoming, though I’m sure you can hear them by now. Burn them all down?” The message come through Cain’s headset. Cain could hear the bitterness in the voice even through all the electronics. Cain wanted to agree with his partner, but instead he saw the potential for much greater reward given the current circumstance.

“Stand down, we’ll let the meeting go as planned,” Cain explained calmly. “When they all come in the room and we have eyes on the cash we’ll make the bust then. Not to mention the MU could use a couple swoops don’t you think? I have a plan for those charges you brought…” Cain trailed off not wanting to say too much in front of Roy.

The roar of the swoops came to a halt after a few moments and Cain could hear the ruckus of riffraff coming through the entryway of the hotel. They continued hooting and hollering until they entered the conference room and saw Cain in his full Mandalorian Glory. They stopped in their tracks and looked uncertainly from one to another, clearly they hadn’t expected Roy to contract muscle. The leader of the gang, Neveen stepped forward doing his best to seem unnerved.

“Wa’s this Roy? Can’ ‘andle yer own affairs ah?” Neveen said in a very thick and unfamiliar accent.

“I can handle myself just fine. But I had an inkling someone wasn’t going to be so faithful with their payment this time.” Roy shot back, slightly hidden behind Cain.

“Wat er ya talkin’ about?” Neveen said. He tossed a briefcase up on the conference table and opened it up. “Ten thousand shimmerin’ credits jus fer you…and yer wares o’ course.” Neveen said with a toothy grin. Cain picked up the credits and scanned them in his datapad to make sure they were real. When he got confirmation that they were real he grabbed a pack of spice Roy had brought.

“Here’s a sample of your product. The rest is out back in the loading dock.” Cain said taking over the negotiations for Roy. Neveen jerked his head toward three of the five cronies that had accompanied him. They immediately left, presumably to begin loading the spice on their swoops. Cain gave them plenty of time to leave ear shot before Cain spoke again.

“I suggest this be the last deal the two of you do together. There’s too much mistrust here and it’s going to lead to one or both of you being killed.” Cain said coldly giving a hard and long look at Neveen. He knew that Neveen wouldn’t be able to see Cain’s facial expressions behind the helmet visor, but the black face shield would be intimidating enough to get Cain’s point across. “And let’s face it, the last time I got involved in this type of deal it ended with three men in a pit with a Rancor.”

It was go time.

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

"Mar'e, Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur!"

The uttered words, a tradition for her ingrained by a father who lived and breathed the stuff, were much like the green light a podracer might see before ramming the throttle into full. The word "rancor", uttered over the open-comm, rang in her hearing like a slugthrower shot. She burst from cover, snapping her wrist to the side to expose the blade hidden within the bulky housing strapped to her forearm. Its dark coloration did not reflect light, but its edge was sharp, keen and always kept ready. She slung the satchel with the charges in it over her free arm--a slight risk; should the bag take fire, they'd all be reduced to paste--and hunkered down as she ran for the door to the lobby.

The swoops remained unmolested, as per Cain's suggestion, but the same could not be said for the scum standing outside of the conference room, arms crossed over a muscled chest in what he must have thought looked intimidating. With a move practiced on many a dummy--and many more a living being, including fellow Mandolorians--she stealthily crept up behind the trash and snapped her free hand out and around him to slam his jaw up and shut. The hard, cringe-worthy sound of teeth snapping was hardly the worst part of the move; the sudden jutting blade between the ribs and the spreading pool of blood on his fashionably-tattered shirt looked far worse. It took all of her upper body strength to hold him up as he died on her blade, her hand already aching from the effort of keeping his mouth shut.

"K'uur," she murmured as she lowered the still-twitching body to the ground.

She knelt to check for a pulse--it never hurt to be sure--and tilted her head to glance out at the lobby. Empty; the swoop gang still didn't know she was there. Good, maybe this will go off without a hitch. "Ready for me to burst in? The sentry they left outside is guarding nothing now," she whispered into her comm for Cain to hear. All she would need to do is rush into the conference room and start shooting...but that could be problematic if Cain and their employer had no cover. She flicked her wrist to fling blood droplets from the blade while simultaneously sheathing it. She took a breath and stood, toed the corpse--another odd tradition, but one she kept--and drew her pistols.

"Say the word, mate," she murmured into her comm.

 

[Tank]

Cain became a little unnerved when Mirdala said she’d taken care of the sentry. Cain had figured that the six men that had accompanied the spice dealer into the conference room were the only six pirates that had been brought. There were two ways to deal with the dilemma. One, was to go back, count the swoops, and discover just how many men were crawling around this hotel. The second was to simply start shooting and see how many people started shooting back from their hidey holes.

Cain preferred the second method. He knew his partner would probably prefer the more stealthy route taking out the enemy one at a time but Cain was already tired of this deal and wanted nothing more than a to kill a few pirates, get off this planet and get his payment.

“Yeah, just come in on the count of ten. I think that’d be best. Two by the door, I’ll take care of the rest.” Cain said out loud in a voice that all three of the cronies could hear. At first they looked stunned as if Cain was having a stroke.

“Wa’ you goin’ on abou’?” Neveen said. Clearly he wasn’t the brightest man around but Cain had roused his suspicion. Hopefully his ten second would give enough time for Mirdala to get to his location, sneak up on the two guards outside and they could simultaneously take out all three guards. At the same time they’d be protecting Roy, and their payment.

Six[I/]

“Oh, just my wife, always going on about the refresher.” Cain said adding to the confusion. He even added a hearty chuckle for good measure.

Ten.[I/]

Cain pulled out his shockwave pistol off his hip holster in the blink of an eye and leveled it against Neveen. He took just a heartbeat to line up the shot and pull the trigger. The pistol itself was like a mini-tubrolaser cannon. The destruction it could cause and its compact size was the main reason Cain favored it. Neveen’s chest cavity seemingly disappeared. In reality it had been superheated, and dissolved under the extreme heat. Neveen’s muscle’s kept him upright for a few haunting seconds before his brain finally realized the body was dead and he went limp and collapsed to the ground. Cain turned to make sure Mirdala had made it to the conference room and Cain didn’t need to dispatch the two extra guards himself.