No Mando'a

[Prudence]

​

The doors to the turbolift let out a melodious chime as they slid open. The sight before them was an artfully designed spaceport terminal, with glass lanes and walls. Prudii glanced around the turbolift car which he was still standing within, and at the other inhabitants. They were all wearing the eclectic armor or clothing styles of SBZ soldiers which consisted of basically anything save for their typical Mandalorian Armor. Prominent on all of their shoulders was a patch bearing the insignia of the Sacred Band.

Prudii, personally, was wearing a set of Arbitrator P.A.K. armor, including the helmet. It was a disposable set of armor to him, one he would toss away after this op was done. In his hands he could feel the heft of a light repeating blaster. Outfitted with a high capacity clip, and rapid fire, the blaster could shred through soft targets.

He took a step forward and inhaled, reaching the edge of the turbolift. He could feel his veins pumping with the excitement of combat, and the thrill of the hunt. Even as sick of a hunt as this would be, he would still enjoy it. Stopping in the doorway he twisted at the hip to face the others,

"Remember, no Mando'a."

With that he stepped forward, walking through the small foyer connecting the turbolifts to the terminal. Ahead he could see a long line of various species that were waiting to get processed. Growing up here, Prudii had flown through Keldabe Spaceport a number of times. He knew the layout well, and where people gravitated towards. He could see a Rodian couple standing second in line for the security check, arms around each other. A droid stood behind them, carrying their bags.

Hefting the blaster to his shoulder he took aim and let loose a stream of plasma. The targets were unarmored and the shots sliced through them with ease. He could still see the Rodian couple now, though they were lying strewn across the floor. The air was now pierced with the acrid smell of plasma discharge and scarred flesh, along with the soul piercing scream of fearful and dying beings.

Viva Death Watch thought the self proclaimed Mand'alor as he watched bodies fall to the floor. Today would be remembered in the books for centuries to come.

 

[Proleptic]

Jemma's face was as cold as the metal of the turbolift doors as she rode the lift. Her breathing was loudly filling the chamber as they rode to their destination floor, making her distress evident. She raised her hand and began pulling on a pair of gloves, one finger at a time. She glanced up every so often, looking to her left at their leader. Her loyalties have never been in question, but her irritation was still being made evident, and had been very much vocalized in the weeks, and even months leading up to the mission awaiting them.

Jemma was faced with what was unsurprisingly an ethical dilemma, and nothing about the seemingly uncaring members of the rest of the Death Watch was helping. In the back of her mind, Jemma was conscious of the beeping of the passing floors, and had been counting them on the side. There were only two floors to go now, and she was dreading every moment that passed.

"Remember, no Mando'a."

Jemma flinched hard, and turned to look directly at him, scowling viciously. She finished tugging on her gloves, and pulled her armament down from her shoulder where it had been resting. Every part of this felt wrong, from the uniform, which matched the Mand'alor, to the task at hand, and even the temperature of the air.

Jemma closed her eyes and held back a great swell of unfamiliar emotions. Here we go. She began to shake as the doors to the turbolift slid open. She made no attempt to steady herself as she began slowly moving forwards.

She walked from the lift, almost immediately locking eyes with a man in his mid-forties. He couldn't see her face through the mask, but he somehow managed to lock eyes despite. He was surrounded by several children, from pre-teens to some nearly fully grown. His wife was laughing pleasantly at the youngest member of the group — perhaps the little one had made a joke. Jemma winced at the thought, and resisted the urge to blank her mind as she so commonly did for missions.

She couldn't do that. She wanted this to hurt.

Both of the father and the mother were now looking at her curiously, as her garb was slightly unfamiliar, and she gave them a sad frown. Just a moment later the youngest of the group, perhaps only five years of age, looked towards her, locking eyes despite the mask and sending an unpleasant jolt through Jemma's body, and cocking her head. She giggled a little bit, probably at Jemma's funny outfit as well, and Jemma's lip began to quiver as her eyes welled with brimming tears, and words began to jump unbidden to shaking her lips.

"I am so sorry."

The sound of her voice drowned in the oppressive ring of blaster fire as she pulled the trigger.

 

[Logan]

The sound of the turbo lift doors sliding open made her trigger finger itch uncontrollably. There were few things in the universe that excited Aria more than the opportunity to unleash her demons, to let them run rampant and get their thirst for blood and carnage they always clamored for, and unfortunately for the denizens mulling through the Keldabe Spaceport, she had been given just that opportunity. In an even sweeter turn of events, she got to slander the name of the SBZ - who she considered just the discarded failures of the Sith - in the process. She hated the Brotherhood more than anything else in her life. It made her happy to be part of an operation that would paint them as the red devils they truly were, and if all went according to plan they would become public enemy number one for any good-hearted citizen of the Republic - if they weren't already.

Stepping from the turbo lift, Aria brought her carnifex heavy repeater to her shoulder and greedily yanked on the trigger. Blaster bolts streamed from the barrel of her weapon in short waves, tearing down anyone and everything that got into their path. She was aiming for families, doing her best to kill each member. It would be irresponsible to not kill the children as well - the galaxy had no room for dozens of orphans. No, she needed to kill whole families. The pain and anger needed to stretch as far as possible from Keldabe, and the more people she slaughtered meant the further it would go. She would stop shooting only long enough to reach to her waist and retrieve a thermal detonator, priming the explosive and giving it a toss into one of the restrooms as she walked by it. The door would shut shortly thereafter, barely muffling the explosion and the cries of pain and death that would emanate from the room that would be the tomb of whoever was inside.

Laughter, loud, frantic and hideous laughter erupted from underneath the helmet of Aria's P.A.K. armor as she resumed firing her carnifex. Maybe she wasn't so different from the SBZ soldier she was pretending to be. It didn't matter. She was different because she was better. Moving behind a pillar, Aria stopped to reload the massive clip of the carnifex and shot a glance at the faceless armor-clad visage that was Prudii Kyramund. He wouldn't be able to see her smile, how wide and crazed it was. He wouldn't be able to see her bulging eyes, slick and glistening with depraved excitement.

He would be able to hear her voice though, inside his head, laughing a girlish laugh and whispering nothing other than,

"Remember, no Mando'a."

 

[Daz]

A heavy clang rang throughout the hall as Urou stomped through the turbolift doors, clad in a borrowed CR-26 system, coupled with a light repeating blaster. The horn-like spike usually found on the forehead had previously been hacked off with a buzz-saw and replaced with a stamp of the Sacred Band's insignia. He thought it looked pretty convincing, and this armor was just about the only thing he'd ever consider wearing that wasn't Mandalorian make. Beneath the helmet, Urou's iconic grin had reduced to pursed lips, and the laughter replaced with silence. The only question he'd wanted to ask was about when security would show up to give them an actual fight. But he kept himself silent - they would probably be here soon.

The usually-laughing Mando'ad's uncharacteristically stoic demeanor was a clear indicator of how he felt about this entire situation - from the lack of his own armor, all the way to the choice of weaponry. But this was something that the Mand'alor believed must be done, no matter how it sat in their guts, and Urou had already come to terms with this. It was what Urou considered to be among the first of their many necessary evils. For Mandalore to live, many must die.

Almost immediately, he noticed Jemma's shaking. A massive hand swung up to rest on her shoulder for a moment, covering the Sith insignia in an attempt to show at least a small amount of reassurance, before he stepped past her. "Breathe." Turning his head over his shoulder, Urou shot a quick glance behind himself, before facing forward to raise his blaster.

As he squeezed the trigger, Urou paid little attention to what he was aiming at, still holding the blaster at his hip. As streak after streak of burning plasma ripped through the air, he managed to inaccurately mop up a decent chunk of whatever the others hadn't gotten around to aiming at yet. The volley of plasma tore through everything in front of them - more than a few of Urou's own bolts slammed into already-fallen corpses, security terminals, and the wall opposite them. He showed no hesitation at changing his target to people, though, barely letting up on the trigger as he swung his blaster over, then mowed them down.

 

[jamessour]

This trip had been a joke. Chris had come to meet with some GAR representatives to show Coruscanti support of their efforts. Chris didn't care about the war, but he needed votes, and people loved the patriotic crap. He was now back at the spaceport. He never took public transit. It was dangerous, stupid, cramped, dirty, and cheap. Again, however, it was good for people to see him mix with the regular people.

Entering the spaceport, he was flanked by a group of Coruscanti officials as well as four bodyguards - it was quite the entourage. Chris pretended to smile as he waved at a civilian taking a picture of the group. He walked up to the ticketing terminal and cursed trying to get it to give him his ticket - stupid things never did what they were supposed to. As they were part of the senate, Chris's guards were allowed to carry their sidearms through security, they were legal officers and had greater privileges than Chris did when it came to defense.

He hadn't quite made it to his terminal ( a different terminal than the one the Death Watch entered) when the screams started. Blaster fire, panic and stress filled the space port. Chris turned suddenly back to the terminal that the commotion was coming from, and grabbing his guard, ran to the side of the hallway. Dozens were being cut down - including one of Chris's guards. Chris immediately activated his datapad and started a live stream to the senate of what was happening.

He cowered behind his two remaining guards as they started shooting back at the apparent Sith forces.

 

[Littletinder]

Flint just joined the Death Watch but already volunteered for the first major operation of the formation. The opportunity was perfect, showing of his commitment to destruction. He was dressed exacly like his new comrades, SBZ armor with helmet, it was a bit hard to find one that would fit his size, but they menaged. It was a bit too loose at shoulders though. He was weilding a R-8R with shortened barrel, several thermal grenades and a vibroknife, basic gear for basic SBZ soldier, they didn't want to be recognized right? That was the whole point. He looked at the people in the lift, almost all of them were taler than him except for the medic lady who began to slightly shake. Flint thought she felt the same exitement he felt, he smiled under his helmet, he was amongs the right people finally. Maybe he finally found his place.

"Remember, no Mando'a."

Well Flint knew only three words in mandalirian so there was no problem there. The turbolift door opened and it finally began! Flint jumped out behind the others (he wasn't complaining about the shield of flesh infront of him). Urou spoke something to Jemma, Flint thought he heared "Breathe". Seams like the medic lady was so overjoyed with carnage she forgot to even breathe. Well it was time for Flint to join in. He would lean out from behind his team in order to shoot carefully aimed bunch of blaster beams into anything that moved and hid back behind his biger, more durable friends. He knew he would survive even 2 shots in this crappy armor. He wasn't THAT crazy.

 

[Riley Dee]

Rex "The Unlucky One" Andarre was flirting up the golden-haired clerk girl behind the Spaceport info counter, peeking sleezily down her blouse and saying something sweet like, "No, I don't think it's necessary to call you superior down for this. I know it says I'm on the 'no-flight-list,' babe, but I assure you it's a mistake. How 'bout I take you to lunch and we talk this all over like two, consenting adults."

She was just about to say, "I'd rather kiss a sarlacc," when the first series of blasts went off.

Forgetting the girl, Rex hit the floor before anyone else. He'd been in enough cross-blaster fights to know the importance of making yourself a smaller target. Instinctively, he crawled on all fours around to the clerk's side of the counter and reached for the repeating blaster he kept holstered close to his ribcage. Gulp. It wasn't there. He had stashed it, knowing that he had been marked already as a wanted criminal. Having a blaster on him would've made it impossible to slip off-world. The beautiful golden-haired clerk girl was now more of a screaming harpy. In her fear and panic she started raining down kicks and blows, slapping the back of Rex's head and neck.

Angrily, Rex hissed, "Knock it off! Do I look like I'm behind this?!," then holding up his hands, "LOOK! I don't even have a blaster!"

Terrified and desperate for safety, the hysterical clerk sobbed and clutched at his vest with both hands. Rex pushed her hands away distractedly and left her to whimper and quiver beneath her seat. He didn't even really know what was happening. Could have been a simple robbery. If that was the case, they might actually be someone he knows. On hands and knees through the sounds of death and chaos, he made it to the other end of the counter and peered around to get a look at the scene. Bodies were piled and blood ran. Two main groups stood. A crew of mean-armored, blaster toting badasses... and the corporate looking fellow hiding behind his hired help.

 

[Riley Dee]

I shouldn't be here.

Knowing that a full-on sprint towards the exit would get Rex blown into a pink paste, and that even being seen with a weapon would make him a priority target, Rex decided to do the only thing he could think of.

He rolled.

Making himself flat and stiff, he began to roll towards the exit, stopping every now and then to play dead. He rolled through pools of blood. He rolled over freshly dropped bodies. He rolled over luggage, and heads, and kneecaps, politely whispering, "Excuse me," or "Sorry for that." each time he rolled over a not-as-dead-looking-as-others corpse. He rolled right up near the lift doors where he stayed, face pressed against the tile. When he thought no one was looking, he made a wet slap up at the button and waited quietly... motionless. Once the Lift opened he rolled himself inside. Standing up he pressed the appropriate buttons and looked down at himself. He was covered, toe to tip, in gore, with blood matted into his hair.

More to himself than anything, Rex said, "I really need to get a blaster."

The elevator doors shut, and The Unlucky One was gone.

 

[Zephyr Kast]

Zephyr Kast stood impassively in the turbolift of the Keldabe Port, lazily watching the number change as they moved to their destination floor. "So we kill everyone, right?" She whispered to Prudii. She knew the answer, she was just being antagonistic to Jemma at this point. Zephyr thought her emotions to be quite foolish, especially since they only applied when it didn't seem to be helpful or necessary, but nobody every said emotions had to be logical.

Zephyr awaited no response from Prudii as she answered her own question. "Poor little shits. I do hope they didn't wear their favorite underwear." She pulled on her helmet and hefted her blaster as they got to be two floors away. In reality, she had a few slight feelings of regret, but they were buried too deeply to matter at this point.

The lift slid open, and Zephyr opened fire on the first group of people she saw. It was just some middle-aged twi'lek couple. They didn't even have time to look surprised as they were mowed down, and Zephyr changed targets. As she continued to mow down the masses, she noticed one man begin rolling along the floor, passing clumsily over the dead bodies. She swore she could hear little bits of him apologizing to the corpses, but nobody would do that....right?

She considered shooting him, but all-in-all, the sight was too absurd for her to bother. As the elevator doors shut, she resumed her massacre with pleasure.

 

[The New Guy]

Chos loved violence, but even this was too much for him; he needed something to ease his nerves. For what seemed to be the 100th time, he turned to spice. He had consumed a bright green space, named "Endorian Moon", much earlier, but it's effects were just starting to take effects. He could almost physically feel his moral compass dulling down, and his more physical senses heightening.

He had chosen his XPC rifle for the day, to ensure he caused as much collateral damage as possible. It was a cruel thing to do, but the op in general was horrendous. He was glad he had taken the spice to ease himself, or else he might have had second thoughts as he checked his blaster's charge. As he finished checking his blaster, he looked around. Everyone was in an SBZ-associated uniform; but even under cowls, masks and helmets, everyone had a clearly grim stature. Even Prudii.

"Remember, no Mando'a."

Chos hadn't intended on speaking in Mando'a, but he'd make sure he wouldn't now. The words that Prudii spoke had also signaled Chos to the fact that the turbolift was almost to his location. He squeezed his Arbitrator PAK helmet on, and took a deep breath. The turbolift dinged and the doors opened. Chos shouldered his blaster and fired almost simultaneously with everyone else. He closed his eyes as he sprayed blaster-fire into the crowd; he couldn't bring himself to look at the countless innocents being slaughtered.

 

[Prudence]

theme

A shriek came from behind one of the terminals as a Terminal Security clerk stood up, shrieking at the man that was rolling away from combat. He'd seen them talking before he had fired into the crowd. He saw a young twii'lek girl running towards a set of corpses. Prudii bit down hard and fired, watching as the small form dropped and rolled away. Just then he saw blaster bolts whizz by, and one impact the floor near him. He saw two Senatorial-looking guards in a protective stance, with a third dead one at their feet. A sick feeling rose up within his gut, the prey was fighting back. This hunt just became even more fun.

Speaking into the helmet comms he said, "Flint secure the terminal station. Aria back him up. The rest of you behind them." the links were encrypted and short range. No one around them would be able to listen in. Knowing that you had absolute loyalty was also an advantage. Prudii knew each of these men and women would obey his command as soon as it was issued, and if one dared not to - the others would handle that one for Prudii. With that the Mand'alor surged forward, firing towards the guards. His fat high-energy bolts tore through the closest guard, spilling blood out of his abdomen like a fountain. Prudii moved right, across the foyer, towards the nearby terminal as the second guard fired at him. The bolt clipped the side of his shoulder armor harmlessly. The armor was heavy, with his gauntlets sporting cortosis lining for lightsaber resistance incase there was a saber jockey or two here. He had weapons that matched the same model as his other weaponry, save for the Gutripper and the sniper rifle.

A last shot rang out from his light repeating blaster and the last guard dropped. Prudii dropped the blaster, and it fell limp against it's harness, resting against his chest. Ahead of him was a Senator brave enough to point a datapad at the carnage rather than run. Likely on the holonet right now. Prudii stared the man in the face, though to the senator it would just be a black orb staring at him. He withdrew a pistol from his hip holster and fired into the man's chest. It should be enough to disable the man and drop him, painfully to the ground, but not kill him. Being that this was a spaceport, and the man had his guards with him, Prudii had little need to worry that the man might fire back. He wouldn't have been allowed to carry weapons this far.

The man's datapad clattered away from him, camera facing up, and Prudii stared down into the face of a man that would soon be dead. He crouched down and picked up the datapad and pointed it towards the man's body lying on the ground. He began speaking, the voice modulation card that he installed to his helmet prior to this mission causing his voice to sound deeper and more mechanized, and completely voiding any voice detection software.

"Dear Chancellor Rhone, "

He stepped forward, his foot crushing the man's groin,

"We gave you an option. Expel the Jedi from within your borders."

He took another step, this time his boot landing on the man's throat. A wheezing popping sound ellicited, and Prudii knew the man must be in immense pain.

"Koriban says hello, and your senator says farewell."

The camera still pointed at Chris's face Prudii unleased three shots from his pistol, disfiguring the man's face beyond recognition and ending the screams and writhing from his now lifeless body.

He dropped the datapad next to the dead body and looked down on it, firing into the camera and ending the feed.

"Oya Manda" he muttered to himself within the inaudible confines of his helmet.

Turning around he began back towards the terminal and holstered his pistol, switching back to the light repeating blaster. As he walked the memories from his past came back to haunt him. After he'd killed his first man he'd returned to the Hutt palace where he'd been staying. He could remember the words that the Hutt's majordomo had said to him now.

You're a monster now Kyramud. You will never find peace, or happiness, only death.

If that were true, Prudii could accept it. Because the one thing that he was good at was bringing death.

 

[Littletinder]

Securing the terminal station was now Flints job. He laughed to himself when he received the order, almost everyone was laying on the floor with new holes in them, several civilians were still breathing some of them were trying to prone away, Flint would shoot any of them twice in the back as he passed near the right wall towards the main terminal console. On the way there stood one pair of doors, Flint saw some people trying to reach them, he was aware that at least two persons went inside. He saw two of screening officers passing them right when first shots were fired. The door were locked with magnetic lock, Flint attached small breaching charge to the hinges. Once those go off he would throw a granade inside.

Turns out it was a security room with monitoring. Now most of the display holoprojectors and monitors were smashed due to explosion, one of the security officers was laying on the console, the other one that was still breathing, Flint quicly changed this fact. He dragged the body from the console, Request for Reinforcements flashed in red from cracked glass. "We got more meat coming", Flint said to comm in his helmet. Suddenly a third officer emerged from behind some other monitoring equipment, with a blaster pistol pointed strait a soldiers head. How could Flint not sense him with Force? Flint was lucky Aria was backing him up.

 

[Thane Vizsla]

Mandalore.

Under the boots of the aruetii for too long. The great Mandalorians oppressed in their own home by outsiders. It was something that could never simply stand by Thane. Once upon a time, his people brought the galaxy to its knees. The sight of a Mandalorian struck fear in the most of fearless men in the universe. Over the years since the Mandalorian Wars, the fate of the Mandalorians had not been an easy nor a glorious one. They had suffered and they had deteriorated greatly. They were nothing more than paid mercenaries.

It was time to change.​

The deed that was to be committed by the members of Death Watch was surely anything but honorable. Yet, Thane had learned that in some situations honor could only be an obstacle. A burden that can come back and hit you right when you do not expect it. Honor was a liability in this case. All had to be given for Manda'yaim. Everything had to be done for Manda'yaim. Even if it meant going so low as doing this.

We will not break.

We will not falter.

We will not kneel.​

"Remember, no Mando'a."

Mand'alor's voice came through the comlink and Thane was brought back to the reality of the turbolift on Keldabe Spaceport. Without his precious armor, he felt naked. Those around him possibly shared the same sentiment. The doors opened with a ping and all hell broke loose. His simple blaster carbine took down easily the civilians. His mind was blank, his shots were not as accurate as he wanted them to be. Thane's focus was elsewhere, his eyes were looking for security personnel. They endangered him and his vode. Not the civilians.

Another order followed from the Mandalore and Thane noted the two that first made their way towards a terminal. He dashed right behind them, his back hunched making him a smaller target and cover being his priority. A blaster bolt grazed his arm and he grinded his teeth. Quickly sliding down to cover, Thane felt sweat break on his brow. It burned. This 'armor' did not help at all. The Aliit'buir of clan Vizsla peered from cover and saw the security personnel that was possibly the source of his pain.

Bravely, Thane jumped out of cover and into the terminal station where other Mandalorians had just gone after a few charges had went off. The Mandalorian's sprint was enough to reach inside the terminal station's safety. The blonde, sociopath-looking Mandalorian had taken care of two of the officers within the room. The emergence of a third man out of nowhere triggered Thane's self-preserving instinct and in turn he pulled the trigger of his carbine automatically at the man. Afterwards, he quickly took a better position to keep the man that was supposed to work on the console safe.

"Hurry up." Thane grunted at the two Mandalorians that apparently went by the name of Flint and Aria, respectively.

​

​

​

 

[Aria Deece]

"Flint secure the terminal station. Aria back him up. The rest of you behind them."

"Yes, Commander." Aria remembered the ranks of the SBZ from her time spent within the confines of the Brotherhood. She may have been a Sith herself, but she would have been remiss not to at least know some of the intricacies of her brother faction. They were ruthless bloodthirsty monsters, she thought that their own display thus far at least honored that much towards their facade. And secure channel or not, it was better to be safe than sorry if someone was listening in.

She followed behind Flint closely, keeping her eyes sweeping for potential threats but her mind ever present on her would be partner. New to the Death Watch, Aria was unsure if the man was trustworthy or not. Prudii may have been willing to put an ounce of faith in the psycho but Aria would remain unsure. Paranoia was a trait intrinsic to Aria and it had kept her alive many times in the past. Aria swore at the news of reinforcements. Her mind moved past the irritation quickly though, in the end they would simply be more a tally in the body count.

"Get out of my way." She said, pushing aside Flint and moving in front of the console. Most of the machine may have been damaged but it still seemed to be somewhat functioning. "We're going to need to get out of here at some point," she said, pressing some keys and staring at the one remaining working monitor. "I'm going to disable all security functions of this place. It'll keep them from shutting down the turbo lifts and sealing up any blast doors, at least theoretically. Keep an eye out, this may take some time." She reached into the pocket of one of the dead security officers, fishing around for his access badge. Finding it, she placed it in a slot on the console.

A feed from one of the security cams flashed on the monitor. A squad of guards were moving down a hallway adjacent to their location.

"Resistance incoming."

 

[Tag Barker]

The departure sign for Bandomeer read "On Time".

Well. That was until a blaster bolt struck the departure's board with a loud frap!. Then it read just "O. ..me". Which. Was sorta appropriate right now. Because right now it was the only thing Tag Barker, (our heroically general layabout and routine bomb maker of Chandrilla,) could think to say to himself.

"Oh."

Sadly. This was Keldabe Starport under attack from darkly garbed Sacred Somebodies and their repeater rifles. And it wasn't pretty.

"Feth. I... Um. I should probably run? Yes."

It was more a statement of surprise than a question. There were screaming people everywhere down near security and a poor Rodian couple had already bitten the dust from gunfire. A happy Rodian couple too. Bah. Monsters. Now it was all but obvious that staying put in Cafe Caf was probably a bad idea. Still? The dashing young Tag had no idea where all the fighting was coming from. Best to just lay low for now. Otherwise he'd probably get trampled to death by the crowds or run into a second wave of armed gunman. No. He knew where it was safe. The safest place in all of Terminal One.

Cafe Caf's freezer.

He jumped over the counter as the Twi'lek cashier ran out the back door of the restaurant. Screaming and flailing as she went. Oh? I guess I have the whole place to myself now, eh? Awesome...

Tag grabbed up the free Oreo cake underneath the cafe counter top and then quietly slid himself into the large Cafe Caf's freezer. Locking the door from the inside and smiling to himself. Ha. Safe at last. Ooo,

And cake too!

"Ha! Suck it terrorists. ...Tag Barker's a champion. Yes!"

Also freezing. Also, unlimited chocolate milk back here too. Meh. It was gonna be a weird day. He could tell.

 

[Proleptic]

Jemma kept walking track of the port, mowing down lines of people with an anguished expression. Her emotions were hidden from view by the helmet, and the fact that her body had steadied with the familiarity of combat. She hated that right now. Normally her immunity to death, which is what allowed her to steady herself even during emotionally-tense situations, was a blessing. Right now, it was her most dreaded curse. She hated herself for being able to keep firing. She hated herself for being able to stomach anything, and somehow that ability almost made the situation more dismal. This wasn't the first time she had hated it so, though it was the first time in a long while that it had been so severe.

Jemma settled into an egregiously efficient rhythm. Fire. Follow up. Walk. Check surroundings. Fire again. She mowed down multitudes of people, not keeping count at all as she did in most battles. This wasn't something she could ever be proud of. As she continued striding down the hall, she paid close attention to the life signs of all those around her. She would stop and ease the passing of any she noticed were still living. Breathing wasn't a sure enough sign, as some injuries would prevent them from doing so, but leave them suffering.

Jemma had just finished putting down an elderly man whose diaphragm had ceased functioning when she came upon the Café Caf. Considering it was likely to be high populated, Jemma ducked in, gun raised and ready. She saw nobody on first sight, but threw a thermal detonator into the back area for good measure. She ducked behind a table for a moment while the blast rang through the shop, and popped back up to begin trekking towards the back. There was likely a freezer, and though anyone and everything inside ought to have been destroyed, she figured that checking it couldn't hurt.

Y'know, because there might be that guys who wanted a blast resistant freezer. Seems logical, right?

 

[Tag Barker]

A thermal detonator exploded in the back end of the Cafe Caf'. Tag was caught in the explosion as the door was turned ajar. He was covered in debris and harmed from the concussion.

He attempted to remove the ceiling fan to escape.

 

[The New Guy]

The crowd that was in front of the lift a moment before the doors had opened was on the ground. They were dead, all lying in a large bloody mess. Chos walked past the bodies as he moved into the spaceport. He shot down the fleeing civilians as they ran across the terminal. His blaster bolts were unforgiving, leaving every target he hit dead on impact. Chos tried his best to ignore the lives he was taking and focused on following Jemma; he wanted to help make sure all the shops in the terminal were clear.

As Chos followed her to Caf Cafe, he looked at the bodies of a Rodian couple he had shot up on his way there. Poor things. Once again ignoring his feelings, he pressed on. Jemma entered the cafe's aft section, probably looking for somebody. While she did that, Chos stood outside and threw a thermal detonator into a nearby gift shop where he saw a few people hiding behind a counter. Just his det exploded, a explosion was heard in the back of the Cafe simultaneously. He ran to make sure Jemma was ok, and saw that the freezer in the rear had been blown apart.

The door had been blown clean off, and a man was attempting to squeeze into the vents. Thinking quickly, Chos fired a three round burst from his XPC towards the man's lower back and abdominal area. He was standing about two meters away, so all three bolts should land. The burst would certainly kill the would-be-escapee.

@Tag Barker @Proleptic

 

[Tag Barker]

Cho noticed Tag trying to escape and shot him in the back three times. With nowhere to go and unable to ascend the vent shaft from his wounds. Barker quickly succumbed to his wounds. He died in a puddle of chocolate milk and oreo cake.

Years later a monument would be erected on this spot as a memorial to all who had fallen during this horrible event. Next to Tag Barker's chiseled name would read: "He got his cake and ate it too."

 

[Littletinder]

Flint didn't care if what Aria was going to do on this console was important or not, noone pushes him aside. Gun pointed at womans back Flint was ready to pull the trigger when he saw the same feed Aria did. He decided to unload his frustration on the security soldiers coming this way, but to show of how he felt towards an insult he received, Flint ripped apart all the monitors in the room with Force and blaster bolts alike. He left the most impotant console unharmed, the mission was more important than this fracking woman. After he was done he turned back to her and stared her in the eyes or rather helmet. Of course she didn't see his stare, couse he was in helmet too. But just silent gaze should suffice. Then he turned towards the door they came through, said "One of these days..." and positioned himself at the door. He would have cover but still be able to look and shoot into the terminals hall. He looked at his other partner, Thane. "I had him, he was my kill. Next time I'll put YOU down.", Flint said and used a light force push at the mans shoulder, as powerfull as bumping shoulders of the two men. He there turned his attention at the terminal behind the door and reloaded his weapon. He thought about what he did though, he returned to Thane, "But thanks." Flint said with sour smile, which again was not seen becouse of his helmet. Flint focused again at the terminals main area.

The hall was covered with bodies, a grimm scenery but such an expresive one. And now the Mandalore was about to finish making his appearance in Holonet with sentors datapad. Flint saw his leader disposing of both, the holovid will most certainly make a statement. Flint was a bit sad that their piece of work here would fall to SBZs credit, Death Watch would surely be a force to be reconed with after such a massacre. But Flints guess was that Republic was to strong for the fromation to take on, they needed to prepare more. "That should do the trick." Flint mutterd as Kyramund fired the last shot destroying the datapad, he wasn't sure if it was heared by others in the comm. "We secured the console, Aria" he stopped here for split second as the disgusting word left his mouth "is disabling security protocols, we got a squad of security incoming from west wing corridor." He looked at the direction of Cafee Caf where some explosions were beeing heared, not intrested he again turned his head toward Mandalore. "They will breach it any second now." To be more precise he used his right hand to point a big automatic sliding blast door, four men wide, that were placed on the same wall as the security rooms door he was next to, but much further away from the turbolift Death Watch used. The surrounding was scarce with cover so they had to either fire form distance or drive them back with grenades the moment the squad openes the door.

Flint approached the Mandalore quickly and stood beside him, on his right side, waiting for his decision. He was much shorter than man in charge.