Ask Worse than plastic in the ocean, that's for sure.

[Edin Frost]

Keen eyes took in sight of the soldier that walked his way. His initial plan had been to incapacitate her and pose as the soldier, but he made a rapid decision to try something a bit more out of the box. When he looked towards her, she would realize that despite the laugh she heard, there was a pained expression on his face. Edin quickly put his goods back in his pants, looking thoroughly embarrassed all of a sudden. He kept up the drunk facade, stumbling a little bit before he plopped down to sit on the curb with his hands up.

“I’m...sorryyyyyy,” He said pitifully, words slurring a bit, “My girl and I had a fight earlier and I stormed out of the room. I got completely fucked up at a cantina and then all this mess….started to go down and I can’t… I can’t get a hold of her,” He looked up, eyes completely glassy, “She’s in the hotel. We were on the 10th floor and now I can’t get in. Today is so fucked..everything is so fucked,” He buried his face in his knees, shoulders shuddering as emotions overwhelmed him.

“I just wanna say sorry..so bad..I just wanna get in there and make sure she’s good...I don’t care what we fought about. Don’t matter..not one bit...I fucked up so bad, officer..so bad….I can’t get in there, I got no key and now I’m making a fool of myself..”

He sniffed and wiped his nose on the fabric of his pants, looking at the ground, “If I could just get inside and try to find her...make sure she’s okay…”

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Darius Gal]

The captain studied the flight plan, looking for upcoming targets to unload the rest of the cargo on. He was openly disappointed that they wouldn't pass the military academy on this route, that would have been a nice twist of the knife. Still, he couldn't complain too much as right on their current flight path was right past a different undersea population cluster. He keyed the switch for the comm and spoke to the crew "Approaching Drop Two."

______________________________________________________​

Inside the cargo hold, Darius and the droids had been taking a brief respite. Well, Darius had been. The droids didn't need to rest. The only reason they'd been inactive for a bit was they were between targets. With the announcement came a renewed flurry of activity. The cargo bay doors opened and the salty sea air howled with unspeakable ferocity once more. "Alright, let's get things rolling!" he shouted. Like a well oiled machine, especially since having done all this once already, he and the droids set to work unstrapping the mountains of crates, activating the hoversleds, and guiding the toxic towers out the back.

All of this was far more than Darius had imagined doing when he signed up. He was a slicer, not a terrorist. Not really. He hacked bank account passwords and crap. Sure, slicing a transponder had been something but this...this was something entirely different. And it wasn't like he could object or back out of it. He was in this life too deep, all he could do was roll with it and ensure that his identity was never connected to this attack. For a clawdite, and a slicer, that was an easily doable task.

Darius busied himself with thinking of how best to erase all connection with the attack on Mon Cala. Who the organizers were that he knew of, what cameras probably recorded him, which identity and face to never wear again. It made the work go by quickly, and before he knew it the last hoversled of leaking, toxic crates had been pushed out the back. They closed up the cargo doors and Darius tiredly hit the intercom. "We're all done here," he reported.

______________________________________________________​

Inside the cockpit, the captain grinned as each ship reported in as having completed the emptying of their cargo holds. He looked at the chart once more to get a fix for how far away from port they were. Not too close, it turned out. He was content to allow them to fly on course for another minute or two - after all it gave Mon Cal authorities more sea to search for other things that might have been dropped off too. It would increase time and resources spent. More money, more manpower, more helpless feelings in the searchers.

"Alright, let's get the fuck out of here. Keep a sharp eye out for any patrols, let me try and delay them long enough for us to get to hyperspace. Picking a fight isn't our job. I'll tell you when to open fire if we have to shoot our way out of the system." One by one the ships tilted skyward and opened their throttles to full.

There was zero expectation that the Mon Cala wouldn't quickly discover the contamination. It was the shock factor the Syndicates were after. Declare war on the Syndicates, openly defy them, and they would strike you in an ugly, savage way. In a way that you couldn't reasonably expect or traditionally counter. They were everywhere. The Syndicates were content to stick to their own plots and plans, until someone stuck their fishy noses in where they didn't belong. And when they did - this happened.

 

[The Storyteller]

She approached with caution. God, this kid was a mess - she was somewhere between angered and worried for his safety. Obviously an offworlder, a tourist, lost during a terrifying terrorist attack on the planet. However, it was still unknown who and where the killers were; there was the standoff at the docks, of course, but she doubted this kid came from there. Would have been logistically impossible at least. "Ah, kid..." Sympathy tinged her voice. "The whole building is locked down. No ins-or-outs." Where would that leave her, though? Would she have to babysit this drunk, crying tourist for the rest of the night? Surely, the captain wouldn't want that. She could already imagine him bursting out into an even louder display, demanding further attention. "Just get a grip for a second?"

"Let me...call it in, alright? What's your name?" If she explained that one of the building's guests was locked out, she was sure there would be a way to allow him back in. But, before then, "I'll do what I can for you. You gotta help me out, too, though." She flashed her cuffs. "Sit tight in these for a second, yeah? Not under arrest, but..." She inched closer, moving slowly to demonstrate that she was no threat to the young man but deliberately enough to show that there was no conversation. "Do not move, understand?" With one hand, she would attempt to grab Edin's arms, and cuff them with the other hand. If this process went smoothly, she would uphold her end of the bargain, calling to a superior officer inside for advice and clarification. If not, well, then she had quite a few other problems to worry about.

___________________________________​

Fate was not on Mon Cala's side today. Perhaps, in time, its leadership would remark that they had bitten off more than they could chew with the war against the Syndicates. Perhaps it would strengthen the world's resolve against crime, an outside terrorist attack serving as a rally around the flag moment. Or perhaps it would stoke the already delicate tensions between the world's Quarren and Mon Calamari.

The aftermath of the attacks would last years. This second one, in particular. Though both Edin and Gareth had made flashy attacks that claimed countless lives, it was through the sea that the true damage would come. It was like replacing an oxygen rich atmosphere with smog and smokestacks; what poison didn't kill immediately would leave generational lingering effects. Birth defects, shortened lifespans, strange diseases would all be borne to those who withstood this attack. A generation of a city, wiped out in an instant. Many would die before they knew who their assailants were, choking on sewage and rot on what would be otherwise a normal day. The Syndicates had left their symbol, alright.

The ships turned about, deviating from their flight plans for a third time. The planet's radar system picked up the blips of four This was an irregularity that the Traffic Controllers on the world would not ignore. "Relief convoy," the ever-more exasperated voice from the ground called out, "You have been ordered to stay on course. Return to your flight path or you will be escorted out of Mon Cala airspace."

He followed the protocol for such an event, flagging for a probe to be launched to the point of deviation from the flight path. Ground control needed eyes on the convoy, at the very least; a probe would help demonstrate that they would escalate, if need be. These probes did not move at light speed, unfortunately, so it would take time before it arrived. But would it be enough time for them to escape? [/abox3]

@Clayton @Sreeya