Blue-Light Special

Cockpit  - IND Jackal -

The hatchway opens up to a small metal platform which overlooks a compact command center. Light filters out from hidden coves, evenly illuminating the bridge consoles. A rainbow of telltales and monitors add a touch of color, breathing life into the maze of metal and machinery. A few steps down, the main terminals are arranged in a rough semicircle, following the curvature of the ship's bow. Twin stations centered beneath the main canopy face forward, while another pair face the port and starboard, situated on either side of the cockpit just before two bulky turrets outfitted with the gunnery controls and targeting computers. The whole space is tight-packed, with little room to move when all positions are occupied. -

Swiftfoot grins. "It'd be something to see you in that combat arrmorr with the rrail gun," she admits, one ear flicking. "But prretty conspicuous, yeah. I was just gonna go as I'm drressed now." Swiftfoot shrugs vaguely. "Doesn't matterr how I drress - a Demarrian's always gonna attrract attention."

"Armor and shits saved for the fuckin' Nall. Show them not to fuck with us." Torr smirks a little and shakes his head. He sits in the pilot's chair and Meowmix is in one of the gunnery consoles. "Fuckin' might bring my new AR. Could be fun."

Solace enters the cockpit, ducking her head to avoid clonking herself. "Hey Mom, hey Boss. Mal showed up yet?" She inquires, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Or is he still dickin' around?"

"Prrobably watchin some of that girrl-on-girrl porrn he's so prroud of," Swiftfoot says, chuckling as she looks back toward the hatch from the starboard gunnery station. "Prrobably got it saved to his PDA so he can watch it in the frresherr." The Demarian's whiskers twitch, and she flicks an ear.

"Yeah, actually I think he does," Torr replies, smirking as he speaks. He sets his PDA aside. "Fuckin' seen him dickin' around with that shit before. No pun there." He snorts.

"I do not need to know about Maly's porn habits, thanks." Solace says with a little snort. "I dunno if I should change for this or not, we're just hopefully gonna be in an' out, don't think I need to go guy, yeah?" Swiftfoot snorts, and offers a shrug. "Eh, maybe Rrhian will be good forr him. Dunno. We'll have to see." The felinoid pauses for a moment, tail flicking. "Naw, shouldn't have to go as a guy. You'll be okay with me and Torr and Mal arround."

Torr snickers at this, glancing back at the Chrono. "Ten minutes. Not thinkin' ya need the fuckin' change." He leans back in the chair a little, hands off the controls now. "Shit. Its your life."

"I got the codes and everything, all we gotta do is get into the warehouse, lock out any crazies, and then figure out how to get it to the ship." Solace makes a slight face.

"Eh," the Demarian says, shrugging slightly. "Hopefully we don't rrun into any prroblems." Swiftfoot's eyes wander to the viewscreen, and she watches the distortions of transition space for a few moments before looking back at Sol again. "No clue what's in it?"

Torr nods a little. "Shoulda had Bigman steal one of those fuckin' dollies he's always goin' on about. All that shit about how well he can drive and shit." He snickers then leans forward, back to the controls. Hands rest lightly on them.

"Guy said drugs and ammo. He didn't sound too sure himself, so I guess we'll find out the hard way." Solace says with a single-shoulder shrug and a rub of the back of her neck. "So I apologise if it ends up being crap."

Swiftfoot chuckles and shrugs, the end of her tail flicking. "Eh. If it turrns out to be crrap, you learrned a valuable lesson. If it's not, though, you got a sweet deal." The Demarian blinks at Torr then, and smirks. "Yeah... dunno. Neverr seen him drrive, myself. Wouldn't know."

"Niether've I," Torr replies. He tightens his grip a little on the controls as they come into normalspace. Then he sends the ship diving into the nebula. Eventually they touch down onto the landing field. "Fuckin' teach him a lesson if he fucks you over, huh?"

"Me three." Solace pipes up, then nods at Torr. "I know his ship's info and all that. I can fix him good, if I can get the right explosives. It'll cost me a bit to get it hooked up, but eh...totally worth it."

Swiftfoot grins somewhat ferally, her canines showing. "I'll be morre than happy to help with that," she agrees, nodding. "But, hell, in any case, let's hope the shipment's good. Then we won't have to go to the trrouble of trracking him down and doing all that shit."

Torr nods a little to this as he lets go of the controls. "Yeah. Whatever. Shit should be interesting at any rate. Not too fuckin' worried about this shit anyway. Could be fun."

"Isn't there some sayin' about cautious people livin' longer, Boss?" Solace inquires, with a lopsided grin. "Or p'haps I'm mistaken or somethin, but I just think that it's a good idea to watch it, yeah?"

"We can take on a few rrats," the Demarian says, shrugging. "Dunno, orrganized rresistance doesn't seem to be a strrong point with the gangs herre." Swiftfoot's tail flicks absently, and she eyes the viewscreen. "Y'know, no matterr how many times I've been herre, I neverr miss this place when we go."

"Well shit, I'm not fuckin' walking in there with a goddamn target painted on my chest. Who the fuck do you think I am?" Torr snorts and shakes his head. Then he looks out the viewscreen as well. "Yeah. No fuckin' joke. Like triple niner a lot more than this shit."

"It's a dump, plain n'simple." Solace says with a helpless shrug. "I think we can all agree on that shit, yeah? S'a fuckin' dump. I still don't fuckin' know how so many people end up here. Like...for more than a drop on an' drop off, you know? People who fuckin' live here baffle me."

"Trriple ninerr has charracter," Swiftfoot says with a slight shrug. "This place... just has lots of rreally sad fuckerrs that got nowherre betterr to be and no way off this forrsaken piece of shit. So what do they do? They wallow in it. Hell, they rrevel in it." She snorts and shakes her head. "I don't get it, myself."

Torr nods at that. "No fuckin' joke. What a goddamn shithole." He stands. "I'm goin' and grabbin' my shit. Gettin' ready and the like. Be back." He heads aft.

"I got my shit. Mom, you cool?" Solace inquires, scratching the end of her nose. "I should really get a second pulse for sometimes. Though the stunner works just as well."

"I got my stuff," Swiftfoot says, nodding as she indicates both pistols in their holsters and the psiblocker at her waist. "Also got the arrmorr." She raps on her chest for emphasis. "Can't be too safe on this shithole."

"I got my armor, only I still haven't bought the flak like I keep talking about." Solace gives a rueful little grin. "I really hate spendin' money, I'm such a fuckin' miser."

Swiftfoot nods. "Yeah, I was like that forr awhile," she agrees. "When things werren't going so well herre, with most of the crrew gone. Didn't want to spend company funds and all that, except to rrefuel the ship. But I paid em back eventually, even then. Felt good."

"I keep double accounts, you know, on account of the business and all, and I have one under each name with just a little in em, to keep the names in the system. It's one of the easiest ways t'make sure an identity keeps real." The Timmiegirl rubs her hand across the back of her nose and snarfs, making her look stunningly attractive.

"Sounds rreasonable," the Demarian says, nodding. "I keep my own account separrate frrom the business, but honestly, most of my funds go into the business account anyhow." Swiftfoot shrugs vaguely, then chuckles. "That way I don't go spend it on dumb shit."

Torr snorts as he spots this action on the part of the Timmie as he reenters. "Fuck me now," he deadpans, then snickers. His hands rest lightly on the assault rifle as he surveys the bridge.

"Don't think so, boss, you couldn't handle me." Solace replies, just as deadpan, then grins, shaking her head. "Aaaanyways...anyone seen Maly? Since we're all ready n'all, should probably roust him n'get ready."

Swiftfoot shrugs vaguely. "Ain't seen him myself. Dunno if he's asleep, orr if he's off messin with something somewherre else in the ship. Therre's only so many places he can be, though."

Outside, a big, beefy male Demarian with tigerlike stripes and an assault rifle is simultaneously banging on the hatchway door and buzzying the Jackal's entryway panel. A pace or two behind him, a svelte, smoke-grey female stands with arms crossed, watching with a tight frown. "Knock LOUDER! Kick the door in!" she barks.

"Hes probably fuckin' workin' on that Sivadian shit." Torr smirks. "What would a Sivadian do, huh? Bet hes practicin' how to be a stuck up asshole. I didn't see him back when I grabbed my shit." Then he glances toward the viewscreen. "Oh fuck me."

Solace blinks as she notes the Demarians outside. She cocks her head to the side, then glances over at Torr. "You know those fucks, Boss?" She inquires. "Better comm em before they dent the door."

"What the fuck?" Swiftfoot says, glancing toward the viewscreen. "What? Who is that, Torr?"

Torr lets go of his AR for a moment, moving over to the pilots chair. "Think I recognize that big fuck." Then he bends over the external speaker controls, tapping a few buttons.

Barry slowly enters into the bridge. He's got an assualt rifle slung over one shoulder, and his Equality and stun gun mounted placed in his holster. "What's goin' on?" he comments as he enters, obviously catching the tail end of the concerns.

The external speakers of the Jackal crackle to life. "Wanna stop fuckin' bein' annoying and tell me whatcha want?" The male voice booms across the landing field, easily recognizable.

Solace looks curious, not saying anything for the moment. Her hand does go for the pulse pistol at her side, however.

"Looks like we got some company outside," Swiftfoot says, nodding to the pseudo-Sivadian as he enters. "We werre just wonderrin wherre you werre, by the way. Good timing." The orange-furred Demarian's eyes narrow as she watches the viewscreen. "Wonderr what the fuck they want. Wish they'd give a damn answerr..."

"Quickclaws! Tell him no!" the female shouts, giving the underclasser a kick.

The big male lurches forward, caught off-guard by the blow. "Yes'm," he responds, then touches a big finger to the box, "no."

The exile snarls. "Useless. Brakir take your tongue, you bumbler-brained loping sand wretch! Say it LOUDER! LOUDER! MORE COMMANDING!"

Quickclaws sniffs, clears his throat, sucks in a breath, and roars into the receiver a long, booming: "NOOOOOOOOO!"

By the time his voice quiets, his fur is on end and his tail is poofed out.

Torr sighs as he watches what goes on outside. "Christ. Thought so." He shakes his head. "We had some dealin's with that one," he comments. "Fuckin' worked for Madina a ways back." He taps the same buttons.

"Loading up my magazines," Barry says, as he loiters near the hatch. "Forgot something... Like my flak jacket." With this possible problem air, the faux Sivadian makes his way aft to in search of the mythic item.

"Doesn't seem very bright." Solace offers her opinion, then snorts. "So they're in the way, why don't we just step out, stun them all, then be on our merry fuckin' way?"

Once more the speakers come alive. "What can we do for you?" The voice is the same as before, level despite the shouting demarian.

Swiftfoot shrugs vaguely. "Easierr to find out what they want. Perrhaps they'rre just rrude..." She mrrls thoughtfully then. "She acts like a noble. You don't see much of that arround these days..." The felinoid's tail flicks, and she blinks at Torr. "Madina? The one that sent someone after Mika that left herr in that shitty hospital on Ungstirr?"

Deadeye's tail lashes and she snorts, tossing her head to survey the wreckage of the domed city. "Quickclaws, INFORM that hairless beach ape that he has the HONOR of hosting a WINDRACER NOBLE in his hoopin' home," she snaps. "And that if he wishes to remain in POSSESSION of said home, such as it is," -- a quick, disapproving critique of the freighter -- "then he will OPEN THIS DOOR before I smear its parts from here to hooping Neverland." Quickclaws does as he is told.

"Also helped us out with some shit," Torr replies. "Helped us out big. We did some work for them both of 'em." He watches the viewscreen with narrowed eyes. "Think we should just lift off? Or fuckin' humor the bitch?"

"I'd rather not leave without m'shipment, but I don't think she should be here if no one's onboard." Solace says firmly, shaking her head. She takes a side glance over at her mother. "I don't think we should be lettin' some bitch in if she's gonna order people around, either. There ain't no 'nobles' anymore, least from what I've heard, so she's just one more Teekay scum, yeah?"

"Mmmmh," the orange-furred pilot says, then shrugs. "If we just lift off, we mayaswell kiss the weapons shipment goodbye," she agrees, nodding at Solace. "And yeah... well, some Demarrians still follow that way. They'rre awfully rrarre out herre, though."

"Last I saw her she was on TK," Torr muses. Then he moves toward the aft hatch, and presumably the airlock. "Lets do this shit, huh?" He glances over his shoulder as he states this, then is gone.

Solace shrugs at her mother and follows after Torr.

Landing Field  - Shadowheart

Once upon a time, a crimelord named Boss Cabrerra built the domed city of Shadowheart. Starships entered through a series of atmospheric locks in the upper hemisphere of the dome and landed atop a framework structure called the landing aerie. Visitors would then ride Cabrerra Industries shuttles from the aerie to the spaceport. More than 1,000 feet tall, the aerie was the tallest structure within the cityscape. And then, in the year 3004, the domed city fell into disarray with the spread of the Nexus Curse plague and the destruction of Cabrerra Industries. The landing aerie toppled in an explosion after the destruction of Majordomo Grim - the right hand of the Kamir.

A 100 yard by 100 yard square patch of dusty ground has been cleared in the wreckage of the fallen aerie to create a makeshift landing field. Vessels that remain landed for any length of time are often guarded by crew. Occasionally, the guards come under attack by pirates, brigands or just plain desperate people trying to get offworld with their ships.

The nebula above glows a vibrant violet-blue as the white dwarf star Tomin glows in the sky.

By this point, Deadeye is stalking like a caged grencat at the base of the ramp. Her underclasser remains posted by the door, and stands there quite politely.

The hatch cycles open and reveals Torr standing in it, assault rifle hanging loosely from one hand. "Been a while," he grunts, ignoring the underclasser and adressing Deadeye. "Someshit we can help ya with?"

Solace waits behind her boss, her usual pulse pistol in one hand, stun gun in the other. She scratches her nose with the handle of the pulse pistol, watching with mild curiousity.

Another armed human joins the first, that being Barry. The man pauses behind Solace, his hand resting one the barrel grip and the trigger grip, but his trigger finger stay safetly away from the mechanisim, taking up a ready position on the trigger guard. He doesn't say anything, seeming concent to let Torr do all the talking.

An orange-furred Demarian leans against the airlock wall behind the Martian, one eyeridge quirked upward as she takes in the scene on the landing pad. In Swiftfoot's right paw is one Mark 6 pistol, held casually (well, as casually as one can hold a weapon, anyway) at her side. The felinoid's ears perk forward curiously, and her whiskers twitch once.

"Peredus! Useless underclasser!" Deadeye thrusts a claw at the pair of Jackals she recognizes. "Finish whatever useless rock-and-rayden niggling business you have to conduct in this backwater cesspool and return me to Triple-Niner!"

Quickclaws glances to Swiftfoot in the briefest moment of empathy, but says nothing.

Torr spares a glance toward the underclasser, then looks back toward Deadeye. An eyebrow arches slightly. "Yeah? What you plan on payin' us?" He shifts slightly where he stands, not moving to allow her entrance.

"Underclasser?" Solace snorts softly, not caring if she's heard or not. She addresses her words to the people behind her, glancing over her shoulder. "What is she, Queen of th' Trash Heap?" The Timonae grins, then shakes her head. "All hail th' fuckin' lady of Tomin Kora, ruler of the scumbags."

Barry glances towards Torr, and then slips his thumb onto the safety. With a click, the weapons now active hot and was obviously cocked earlier, and still, his finger remains away from the AR's trigger grip, and the weapon remains pointing away from anyone. He continues to remain silent as the scene plays out around him.

Swiftfoot's ears go back briefly at Solace's words, but her free paw comes up to her snout to stifle a chuckle. The orange-furred felinoid's ears flick, however, in a silent gesture of mild amusement. She slides a glance over at the underclasser, blinking at him for a moment before shifting her golden eyes back to Deadeye. The pilot remains silent, seemingly as content as the rest to let Torr do the talking.

Ears flattening, the dreadlocked exile pulls her lips into a snarl and peers down her nose at the Jackal's ranking officer. "Altheor's teeth," she mutters through clenched fangs. "I understand that you were not born with an overabundance of BRAINS, Peredus, but I should not have to remind you of the SPRAWLING BLACK HOOPING MARKET THAT I ALONE CONTROL, AND WHICH YOU HAVE DONE BUSINESS IN MULTIPLE HOOPING TIMES!" Spittle flies from her open mouth before a low growl swallows it all up. "Mother Madina never forgets a favor."

"Hey Sol, I fuckin' tell you to talk?" Torr's tone is cold, his eyes not straying from Deadeye as he speaks to Solace. An eyebrow quirks a little at this. "Yeah? Well ya not the only player in the game. Got connections elsewhere, Deadeye. But we got a good relationship with the Mat. So we can do this shit for ya this time. Wait for us in the Warren, huh? Someone'll come find ya when we get our shit done."

Solace shrugs one shoulder, but falls silent, looking rather irritable about the whole thing. She shoves her stun gun in a pocket and digs around for a cigarette, sticking it in the corner of her mouth and lighting it with the middle finger of her prosthetic.

Barry continues to remain silent, raising the weapon to his shoulder, looking down the length of the weapon. He then lowers it back down to its original position, paying no attention to the conversation.

Swiftfoot, for her part, stifles a yawn with her free paw before shifting her eyes to the underclasser again. After a moment, she looks down at Torr, blinks and shrugs vaguely, then reaches over to put a reassuring paw on Solace's shoulder.

And just like that, Madina's pet is satisfied. She waves a dismissive paw. "Nonsense," Deadeye corrects, "I'll come with you." With a snap of her furred fingers, she summons Quickclaws. A swish of the tail, a twist of an ear, and that is quite enough instruction for the underclasser. He falls into step three paces behind her, and to her right.

Torr smirks a little at this. "Oh yeah?" A slight frown crosses his face as he glances over his shoulder toward Swiftfoot, eyes then flicking toward Solace. A brow quirks a little.

Solace flat out shakes her head, though she keeps the motion small. She lets out a breath of smoke through her nose, her silver eyes cold. It's about as much of a non-verbal 'oh fuck no' she can give without jumping up and down and waving her arms.

With the soft creaking of leather, Barry streches his fingers out, alternating between one hand, and then the other. "Oi dickers, we going to flipping do this?" he asks softly, his tone ringing of a West Enaj accent. He doesn't say anything about the current sitation, as he goes back to playing with his AR.

Long distance to Deadeye: Solace laughs. "Hells yes." The orange-furred pilot's eyes narrow slightly, but her suspicion remains unspoken for the moment. Instead, she removes the paw from Solace's shoulder, and straightens from where she was leaning against the interior of the airlock. Swiftfoot shifts her eyes to Barry, nodding in silent agreement.

Deadeye steeples her fingers and rakes her gaze over the Jackals. "Of couuuurse," she purrs, wearing the shit-eatingest of grins. "Now come. Let us go. For we ARE associates, are we not?" From borderline psychopathic rage and insults to a clap of good faith on the XO's shoulder. "Trust, my good man. Like a ROCK. Who wants tea?" She very well frolicks up the ramp. "Quickclaws! Prepare them tea!"

"Ain't got no tea, ma'am," the underclasser reminds her.

"Go GROW some."

"Yes'm."

"We stay outta the Mat's buiseness, you stay outta ours. Yeah?" Torr shakes his head a little, then steps away from Deadeye. "Don't fuckin' touch me, huh?" Then he glances over at Sol. "Speak. Where we goin'?"

"Not in front of the bitch." Solace says flat out, pulling her PDA out of her pocket and hopping off the side of the ramp, exhaling smoke. "She ain't comin' with, though if the big guy there feels like it, he can sure come carry crates." The Timmiegirl brings up her map, then starts heading across the landing field, not waiting for anyone.

Barry follows the Timonae out of the airlock, going immediately into business mode. His blue eyes play across the landing field, looking for any potiential dangers that may be lurking out there. He releases his hand from the foreward grip, and moves it to his Equality, switching the weapon on. The double shot pulse pistol hums into life, and then he switches it back off. He seems happy with the weapon's powering up ability, and he follows Solace in silence.

Swiftfoot quirks an eyeridge and shrugs. "Whateverr. I just want to get the hell off this Brrakirr-forrsaken planet as soon as possible. She hops down off the side of the boarding ramp after Sol, but pauses after taking a few steps away, looking back up at the Martian. "So what, we stoppin forr tea, orr we goin out to get this shit? My vote's on goin out, if it's up forr a vote as such. We can always get tea laterr, when we'rre safely jumping away frrom herre, meh?"

Coy amusement is the name of the game for Deadeye, who is very much the kit at play. She lightly steps aside, sweeping a bow as the Jackals pass. "Oh, do conduct your business... here, on Tomin Kora, in the Warren, with little old me unattended," she coos. "Quickclaws, bid them all farewell."

Quickclaws does as he is told.

Torr narrows his eyes a little at the Demarian. "Fuck." He mutters, casting a glance toward the rest of the Jackals. "You fuckers trust her here, alone with the Jackal?" A glance is cast back toward Deadeye, then eyes return to Swifty. "Yeah? No?" His tone is indicative of his belief.

Solace stops and turns around, looking disgusted. "Can we stop fucking around and hurry up? Just stun gun her and tie her up until we get back. Maybe we'll be lucky and someone'll come and take her off our hands. Fucking liability." The Timmiegirl snorts, but she pauses, waiting impatiently.

"I'll remove her if ye want," Barry says, as a faint smile plays on his lips as he turns back to Torr. It's hard to tell it he's serious or not, but for those who're watching, his fingers slipped inside of the trigger guard, and the barrel still remains safetly down range. "Yer call, I want to try and preserve my rounds, though." He finally regards Deadeye and her Underclasser, arching a brow as he looks between the two of them.

Swiftfoot shakes her head slightly. "I'd rratherr she went with us, if only because she might drrink all of ourr tea. It's kinda Sol's call, though..." A wry smirk finds its way across the orange-furred felinoid's face. "Plus, Quickclaws can help us carry stuff if therre's a lot." She blanches slightly at Solace's suggestion, her ears flattening about halfway, but only momentarily.

Deadeye outright *dares* Barry, with naught more than a fang-ridden feline smile. Quickclaws tenses behind her.

Torr snorts at first Sol, then Malion, his head shaking slightly. "The Mat's got some clout. You fuck her friend here we have a problem. Got it?" Eyes turn toward Deadeye and he holds up the hand not hefting the AR. "This shits not my call, leavin' you here. You fuck us over and you'll have a problem, like we have a problem if we fuck you over. I think that sounds like a good agreement, yeah?"

"Fine, if mom says it's cool, then she can come, but she's not touching the shipment, and if anyone gets shot, it's gonna be her." Solace capitulates suddenly, obviously not in the mood for any more. "The place is out in the fuckin' ruins, there's a block of secure warehouses, only some of em are probably broken into by now. The security ain't gone off, which means they're either spending too much effort hacking into the system, or it just hasn't been touched. The guy I got the shipment off of said they belonged to some shipper that got offed, sold off all the warehouses cheap. Now are we goin' or not?"

Barry gives a slow nod in acknowledgement to Torr. "Got it," he says in reply. His eyes don't leave the two Demarians who aren't Swifty, his finger rubbing the trigger. "Don't get in my flipping way, stay out of the arc of fire," he warns Deadeye. "I'm not responsible if ye, and yer dicker there, get shot for fouling my line of fire." He gives a friendly smile, and then turns to Solace, listing to what she says.

"Don't think you'll have to worry about that, chief," the Demarian that -is- Swifty notes, shrugging. She looks up at Torr one last time, then starts after the Sivadian-and-Timonae pair that's already heading across the tarmac. "Cmon, just wanna get this overr with and get the hell out of herre, beforre we attrract undue attention. Any morre than we no doubt alrready have, I mean."

"An adventure with the Jackals," Deadeye mrowls with a toss of her ebon-maned head, "I suspect I will end up shot *regardless* of behavior." She saunters after the pack of hounds, not caring to advertise her willingness to use her weapons or the wealth needed to acquire them in a den of thieves and brigands.

"Yeah, lets get this shit done, huh." Torr nods in reply to Swifty. Then he starts out just behind her, taking his AR into a two handed grip now. Eyes sweep the area slowly. "Lead the way, Kid," he remarks toward Solace.

Aerie Ruins  - Shadowheart

The toppled steel framework spire of the fallen Shadowheart landing aerie now serves as a twisted, treacherous conduit through the wreckage of the city. With substantial effort, people are able to traverse the rubble and the twisted metal. From ground to upper frame, it's about sixty feet. From here, one can travel back toward the landing field or deeper into the ruins.

Solace follows the map on her PDA, though her eyes flick up every couple seconds. Not a good idea to not watch where you're going here. She pauses, ducking under a steel beam, then points deeper in, and a bit to the left. "They're over there. Dunno, why they wanted to keep em out of the 'safer' areas, though I suppose all they had to do was clear rubble, plunk em down. Prefab units n'all." She continues on her way, free hand still holding her pulse pistol. "Keep an eye out for me, we'll probably have a couple people on our tail soon."

Barry switches the safety on his AR and then withdraws his Equality from his holster. Not the most effective weapon at range, but it's better than slipping in the ruins. With Solace's warning, he presses the engage button on the Equality, and the weapon hums into life. "Right..." he mumbles, as he ducks under the beam that Solace just passed under. "Weapons hot and tails... Gotcha."

Picking her way through the ruins in a singularly feline fashion, Swiftfoot follows after Sol and Barry. The pistol still rests in her right paw, but is no longer hanging nonchalantly at her side - indeed, she reaches over to flick a switch. The pistol whines mutely as it powers up, the orange-furred felinoid paying it no further mind as she continues to follow after the Timonae.

"Oh, so it's discretion you're after," the exiled Windracer mutters, padding lightly and carefully across the slagged catwalk with the ease and grace that befits one of her kind. Taking a position behind a crumbling skeleton of cement and steel, she surveys her surroundings with scent, sound, and sight. Quickclaws, at her flank, hoists his assault rifle like a silent sentinel.

"Fun shit," Torr muses. He holds the AR casually, the safety already having been set to the off position he is prepared for anything. Eyes stray to the ground in front of him every few seconds, taking in the terrain. "Jackals and discretion?" Torr snorts at this as he continues along.

A few more minutes of walking, and the first of the warehouses in the block come into view. The fences have been torn down or melted with energy blasts, and the first few units are obviously gutted, blown open with explosive charges and ransacked. Upon closer inspection, they seem to have been converted into living quarters, though at this distance it's hard to tell how many people there are. A humanoid sentry with an energy rifle is lounging against a breech in the fence, though he doesn't happen to be looking in the direction of the approach.

Solace pauses, then ducks down behind a twisted metal piece, possibly once a wall. She gives a soft, muttered curse, then beckons Swiftfoot forward. "You got the best ears n'eyes mom, take a better look n'me, yeah?"

Barry continues picking his way through the ruins as he follows the Timmiegirl. With the change of conditions, he changes his weapons once more, this time switching back to his AR. The weapon is raised to his shoulder, and the barrel points downwards. The hooligan's blue eyes play across the debris and ruins, the weapon tracked with sychonisation with his glances. With Solace ducking behind the wall, he ducks down and moves up beside her, but faces towards those approaching, ready to provide cover, if the need rises.

Swiftfoot nods and picks her way up to Solace, sheltering behind the maybe-wall alongside the Timonae. She watches the surroundings alertly, her ears swiveling to and fro and her nostrils flaring. Looking over toward the figure, she holds up a single finger, then continues to peer into the semi-darkness, most likely looking to see if that lone figure's got any company.

Deadeye, for her part, takes up the rear and arms herself, preferring the silent slumber of a leadpacker to the whine of pulse weaponry. "Inform me as to what, precisely, I am to be shooting at, or I will assume it is anyone that is not us," she requests, keeping eye and ears on whatever may come up from behind. Quickclaws is her meatshield.

Torr lowers himself to a crouch into the rubble. At the same time he brings his rifle up to his shoulder, swinging it slowly across the warehouses. He frowns a little, glancing toward the rest of the Jackals for a moment before looking back to the scene at hand. He glances toward Deadeye, speaking in hushed tones. "Don't shoot us. Don't shoot until we do." Then he goes back to his vigil.

The man does indeed seem to be alone, but there's movement further in, past the ruins of the fence. There are twelve units in the block, from the look of the map, three by four, with the three side facing the Jackals and their temporary companions. The front three are gutted, and there's light coming from inside the front two. The sentry yawns, then starts to turn and look the other way. There's probably not much to do at this point except shoot him, unless they're going to try for stealth.

Solace shrugs, and points at the one visible person, glancing over at Barry. "Fuck it, shoot him. Then they'll come runnin' out, and we'll shoot em all before they get to us." A tactician, the Timmiegirl isn't, but she glances back at Torr for approval.

Barry continues to watch the rear of the group, the AR's stock coming up to his shoulder and the safety being removed once more. His tracking stops just before dead eye, and the weapon's barrel shifts down as he moves himself into a firing spot. The front of the weapon is placed firmly against the wall, and he shifts his front hand aft, giving himself a decent cushion to lean against, if they do engage.

Swiftfoot nods and replies, her voice low, but still audible. "I see the one at the fence. Therre's movement furrtherr in, but I can't tell how many. Past the fence." The felinoid shrugs pragmatically. "Just take him down, Barry. We can't sneak past him, not easily, anyway."

"You underestimate your tovarisch, underclasser," remarks the Supernova racing superstar, stepping forward with the intent of melting with the shadows of the collapsed corridors -- unless she is stopped. Quickclaws does not move; he remains on watchdog status, his big frame pressed against the knotted steel of the wall at the Jackals' flank.

"Better than nothin'," Torr replies to Solace, smirking a little. "Just watch the flanks and shit." Already prepared, he nods toward Barry. "Do that shit." He drops from the crouch to one knee then, stablizing his stance.

Barry reaches forward, adjusting the rifle's sighting. His breathing slows down as he concentrates on the task at hand, finger slipping inside of the trigger guard. He doesn't say anything as he stops breathing, and then he squeezes the trigger. The AR barks into life, the rounds heading towards the man, unless he manages to avoid the volley.

So much for stealth and subtlety. Underscoring the noise and commotion of the assault rifle, Deadeye is snarling and growling and yowling in Demarese. "raWll phuurrr"

"Indeed," comes the retort from Swiftfoot as the the assault rifle goes off, the orange-and-white Demarian rising up enough that she can get a line of sight over the twisted metal 'wall'. Her pistol is still powered up, and is held at the ready in her right paw.

The man at the fence suddenly has a big hole in his stomach. He looks rather surprised before he collapses. It doesn't take more than a few seconds before the sound alerts the rest of the gang members in the warehouses. They decide to use the cover of the ruin buildings to return any fire, though a couple do run out to see what all the noise is. One has what appears to be a pair of energy pistols, the other has a knife, and is holding up his pants with one hand. They don't see anything at first, but make their cautious way over to the fence.

"You bettah not mess with tha' motherfuckin' Hardcore Teekay Thugs!" One of them yells out into the darkness. "We'll fuckin' kill you."

Solace shrugs, and glances back at the rest of the Jackals. "Uh, let's shoot them?" She suggest intelligently, then shrugs her shoulder. "Too bad we don't have any explosives, that'd take care of this." The enraged Demarian seems to amuse her, despite the situation.

Torr, focused on buiseness now, moves his rifle slightly, tracking the thug with the double pistols. A slight smirk crosses his face. With practiced ease he lines up a shot then fires off a burst toward that man.

With his first volley already gone, and his target down, Barry starts to line up the man with the knife. Once more, he starts to control his breathing as his finger gently caresses the trigger. He's completely calm, almost seemingly bored with the current situation. He squeezes the trigger once more, sending a burst of rounds towards homie knife man.

At almost the same instant, Swiftfoot draws a bead on the man with the knife, not realizing that Barry's already chosen him as a target. The felinoid lines up the shot carefully, then squeezes the trigger, sending a three-round burst of energy bolts his way.

The man with the knife has about ten seconds to get the hell out of there as his companion's head literally explodes, spattering him with assorted steaming bits. He's managed to at least turn around before the second assult rifle gets him right in the back, sending him to the ground with his pants around his ankles. The energy shot hits him in the bare rear end just as he falls, putting a hole all the way through to his sensitive parts. Ouch. That would have hurt if he was alive.

At this point the ones in the warehouse return fire, except that they're out of range. They don't hit much, but it seems most of their weapons are projectile, along with one sad knife thow that goes about two feet before hitting the ground with a little 'tink'. Deciding this is as good a time as any, a whore comes pelting out of one of the warehouses and makes a break for it in the opposite direction.

Solace stands there for a moment, then shrugs and makes a break for it as the second guy falls, heading for a chunk of the fence that hasn't been knocked over. She doesn't give any warning, but it's not a very long sprint, and she makes it across without incident.

"Focus on the combatants," Torr barks out when he spots the hooker. He rises from the knee and moves quickly forward, closing his distance to what seems to be the heaviest spot of fire, and the fence. Spotting a thug, he slows for a moment and fires off another burst. He is careful to stay out of the line of fire belonging to the other Jackals.

With Solace making the dash towards the fence, Barry quickly rises to his feet and chases after her. A stray round impacts in the ground just in front of him. With survival instincts taking over, he throws himself onto the ground, and shuffles forward, the barrel of the weapon now pointed at the warehouse in question. He doesn't fire a shot off just yet, as he takes the time to catch his breath and picks a muzzle flash, cherry from a cigarette or anything to use as a target.

Up and over the chunk of metal the Demarian goes, landing lightly on the ground on the other side and darting toward the nearest cover - a broken and pitted slab of concrete that broke off at some point. Swiftfoot stops there in the bit of protection offered by the slab and raises her pistol again, seeking any means she can of detecting the locations of the enemy.

Going down quickly, one of the men who was looking around the edge of the warehouse catches Torr's shot and hits the ground, caught in the upper chest and shoulder. Swifty's gambit seems to pay off, as her new point of view gives her a clear shot at two of them, but puts her in sight of them as well, who fire off a couple projectile shots in her direction. One of them pings off her concrete barrier, but the second hits mid-chest, lodging in the Demarian's armor. A shot is made at Torr as well, but it ricochets off his cover, not coming very close.

In the ensuing confusion, one of the four remaining comes into view of the other two Jackals not yet engaged in the firefight, though Solace is too engrossed in the security program on her PDA to notice.

Solace looks up just in time to see the approaching thug, and she reaches for her pulse pistol. Barry seems to be in her line of fire, however, so she leaves the shot to him, glancing around to try and find everyone else. They both seem to be busy, so she bides her time, ready to sprint when the fake Sivadian takes his shot.

Torr grunts and ducks quickly as the shot sends up a puff of dirt nearby. He stays slightly lower. Moving the muzzle of his rifle a little he fires off another burst, this time at the man which took the shot at him.

Barry edges up beside Solace, considering that he followed her to her current position. He's trying his hardest to stay out of the line of fire from Torr and Swifty. He remains prone on the the ground, as he lines the man coming towards them. Once more he aims for the man's center of mass, then moves his aim down towards the man's legs, namely his knees, and squeezes the trigger. Three more distinct shots of gunfire ring out into the sympthony of chaos, and hopefully, another scream of agony will join it.

The Demarian grunts and her ears go back as the shot lodges in her flak jacket. She puts a paw to her chest for a moment and breathes a couple of heavy breaths, then snarls, "Fuckerrs. I happen to like this coat." Swiftfoot then shakes her head, and draws a bead on one of the thugs that shot at her. The tall, furry pilot pulls the Mark 6's trigger, sending a three-pulse burst of energy toward him.

Three of the thugs go down with various messy holes, spattering the ruins with blood and other, less pleasant substances. The last one left, near Swiftfoot, gives a rather frightened, "Jesus...", then pulls off a very bad shot anyway, hitting the ground near her foot and turning to run. That doesn't go so well, he trips, falls, and then starts crying hysterically. It's not a pretty sight. Solace sprints for the side of one of the warehouses, her PDA hugged close to her chest, gun at her side. Nevermind that she hasn't shot at anything the entire time, everyone else seems to have had it well in hand. She peeks around the side, but doesn't see any more thugs.

Torr glances toward the downed thug. He shakes his head. Steps carry him after Sol, weapon still raised. He sweeps it back and forth in front of him as he moves, doing what he can to cover Sol.

And with the Timonae off and running, the Faux Sivadian joins in the sprint, keeping close on her heels. Barry leans against the wall, keeping Torr, and who ever else follows, covered from any attacks coming from behind. Blood, guts and body parts, they don't seem to concern him that much.

Swiftfoot advances on the remaining thug, her pistol trained carefully on him. The Demarian's eyes narrow dangerously, and her tail lashes as she looks down at him. Her free paw comes up to touch the spot where the slug slammed into her flak jacket again, and she winces slightly. "Fuckerr. Get out of herre. And if you see any of us again, any buddies you might have betterr just go the otherr way." She nudges the thug none-too-gently with the toe of one boot, then follows after the rest of the Jackals.

Free of his impending doom, the last thug gets to his feet and stumbles off, leaving a wet stain on the ground where he was lying. That seems to be the last of them, as no other noises can be heard. In fact, it's rather quiet. No doubt it'll be a bit before the scavengers show up.

Solace waits until Barry and Torr reach her before continuing on, making her way into the block of warehouses. It becomes apparent that they'd just started breaking in, as most of them are intact. She stops in front of one and starts entering something into the keypad, then presses her palm into the lock. "Right, let's go in." She says. "Get the big dude to help carry, sooner we get this stuff to the ship, sooner we can get off this rock."