Tomin Kora Standoff

Part 4 of a series.

Previous part: A Tale Of Two Jackals: Part 2

Next part: Coming up soon!

Warning: Contains Vulgarity

Tomin Kora. Not the kind of place one would normally hang around alone, but it seems like one fairly conspicuous individual is doing just that. An orange-and-white furred Demarian stands a ways away in the ruins, partially obscured by a twisted, tortured sheet of metal. Her ears swivel and flick with the slightest of sounds, and she scents the air from time to time. In one white-furred paw perches a PDA, at which the felinoid glances from time to time.

A fair way off from where the Demarian stands, a glint from a scope can be made out within one of the partially standing structures. The area surronding the possible position of Barry appears to have been disturbed, some of the debris having been moved around and a thick plastic sheet waving in the breeze. In a not so stealthful manner, a single light can be seen... It looks faintly like a PDA screen.

This time, Ace is a bit wiser, taking the silent approach herself as she creeps through the ruins. Her face shows signs of the skirmish from the other night as the scratches and scrapes on her cheek and by her right eye have cleanly scabbed over. Gun charged, she slips through the shadows as she approaches the area rather than just strolling along as she had been the last time.

A somber figure walks toward the twisted collection of ruins, coming in from the landing pad, a dark baseball hat set on his head, dressed in simple blue jeans and tee shirt.

The Demarian's eyes narrow briefly, and she crouches down behind her haven of tortured steel, slipping the PDA away into a pocket of her coat. Her ears flick, and she slowly draws a pistol into one paw, intently watching the path, such as it is, leading in from the landing field.

From his slightly distant and somewhat concealed vantage point, Barry continues to maintain his vigil of watching over Swifty and Ace. The hidden man lifts his head from the scope of the sniper rifle to quickly make a couple of adjustments of the dials on the scope, and then slowly moves his head side to side. He then lowers his head back down to how it was before, with his cheek resting upon the butt of the weapon. He then quietly talks into the microphone that he has attached to his jacket.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: Either of you guys got anything, or should we consider moving?

Fayth continues walking along the very path Swiftfoot is watching, head down, hands in pocket. Perhaps he wasn't briefed about the sudden trouble, or simply isn't aware of it at the moment.

>>> COMMNET Ace on FOXHOUND: "Da, is someone coming through the path...solo...no sign of anyone tailing him."

Ace crouches low, watching Fayth make his way down the path.

Swiftfoot peers out from behind the sheet sheet metal, eyeing the figure on the path from her vantage point. She speaks into her commlink quietly then, her eyes never leaving the man.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: I see him. Just walking around out in the open. It's a wonder he hasn't been shot yet. Hrh.

The barrel of the rifle slowly dances towards the approaching figure of Fayth, and for a moment, Barry's finger slips inside of the trigger guard. If one could see through Barry's eyes at the moment, they'd easily notice cross hairs dropping down to Fayth's hip, and then up to the man's face. He doesn't squeeze the trigger, but simply removes his finger from inside the trigger guard and talks quietly into the commlink once more.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: I'm holding the shot for the time being... Got some debris stopping me getting a decent look of his face. Don't want to be removing people I don't need to.

>>> COMMNET Ace on FOXHOUND: "Can just let him pass or I can stroll past him...your call."

Swiftfoot creeps out from her hiding place a bit, angling for a better look at the path. She peers out from behind a slab of concrete, then speaks into her commlink again.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: Pretty sure it's a friendly. Looks awful familiar, in any case, though I guess that doesn't mean much. I -know- I've seen him before, though, and not necessarily here.

As the Demarian speaks into her commlink, a quite noticeable sound can be heard from the west. The low grumbling is pretty hard to miss. It almost sounds like the engine of a large vehicle.

Fayth walks right past where Ace and Swiftfoot are, stopping only for a second to sneeze miserably, before continuing on his happily oblivious way. Until the engines began to rumble, and he wisely gets the hell off the main road.

Barry bobs his head up and down in regards to the commlink transmission, a futile effort at that. The barrel of the rifle slowly heads back towards the mouth of the path, and he speaks into his commlink again. It appears that the concealed man has lost interest in Fayth for the time being. With the sound of rumbling engines being heard, he slowly and carefully moves himself to face the source of the noise.

Ace scowls as she hears the rumbling, turning once Fayth was out of sight to climb up to higher ground, still staying close to what passes for a road, though. The idea of being run over doesn't really appeal to her at the moment (or ever for that matter).

>>> COMMNET Ace on FOXHOUND: "Da, sounds big...more trouble? What in hoop are you people keeping in that warehouse?"

Swiftfoot's snout wrinkles in a faintly annoyed expression, and she peers out from behind the concrete slab, looking toward the apparent direction of the sound. She speaks into her commlink again, looking toward the west.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: Yeah, definitely sounds big. Sounds like it's coming from the west, but it's damn harrd to tell with all the debrris arround, meh?

The choppy sound grows louder, until finally a hovertruck crests over a slight hill, moving into sight for bare moments before it's lost behind a pile of debris.

Barry slowly cracks his neck, and starts to set himself up once more. He's trying his hardest to avoid casting a profile in the ruins, which is easier said that done. "Come on," he mumbles faintly to himself, taking a moment to sight the truck and gauge its potential movement.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: The warehouse is empty... I think they might be looking for us after the other day. Hang on, I've got something... Just out of range... I'll take the driver out, if needed... Or I'll place a round into the block. Yer call guys.

Ace settles in up on the roof of a two story bit of wreckage, lying flat as she peers at where the truck had vanished.

>>> COMMNET Ace on FOXHOUND: "Has he done anything but drive yet?"

If it wasn't for the roar of the hovertruck's engine, one might be able to hear the Demarian flick on her pistol. If only. The whine of the energy pistol is likely just barely audible to Swiftfoot herself. She shifts and looks again, trying to get a better look at the approaching vehicle.

The hovertruck slides slowly out from behind the pile of debris, heading in the general direction of the landing pad. It dodges and swerves to avoid the worst of the wreckage, the driver quite obviously wanting to capitalize on as much cover as he possibly can.

The barrel of the sniper rifle continues to track the truck, and it's obvious that Barry's trying to determine something. But regardless, unknown to his associates, he's cocking the rifle and removing the safety, and then quickly speaking into the comm once more.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: The sound of the a bolt sliding home can be heard in the background. "Can anyone see the driver's side window? If it's got a large hole in it, then it's our guys... If not, then... Yeah..." Barry speaks into his commlink.

>>> COMMNET Ace on FOXHOUND: "Cannot tell," Ace continues to lie flat, "Angle, it is not so good."

The Demarian flinches back, her eyes slitted almost shut. She shades her eyes and crouches down behind the ruins again, shaking her head, then speaks into the commlink again.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: The Demarian's voice comes out in a growl. "Theirr lights are blinding me. Can't see a damned thing."

The hovertruck keeps on moving, heading toward the landing pad at a pace that doesn't suggest that the occupants are in a hurry. On the other hand, they're not exactly moving slowly, either. Caution seems to be the word of the day. Suddenly, however, a floodlight mounted atop the truck snaps on and swivels, highlighting the form of the Demarian further back in the ruins. There's a flurry of activity as three men exit the hovertruck, headed straight for the light-blinded felinoid's position.

Ace slides down a bit to the side, peering around a bit of brick and mortar to get a better view.

>>> COMMNET Ace on FOXHOUND: "Da...is still bits of glass around the frame..."

Barry slowly moves himself forward, resting a hand on the weapon to peer down towards the truck in the distance, before slidding back behind the rifle once more. "One shot," he comments to himself, taking a moment to line up the hood of the hovertruck. "All I need... Fuck it." With the three men heading towards Swifty's position, he lines up the first one of the men and aims for his hip... A cruel technique designed to wound and immobilise, but not kill the unfortunate victim and cause panic in his associates. He squeezes the trigger, hopefully not giving away his position at the same time and then quickly speaks into his commlink.

Swiftfoot's lip curls in a snarl as she ducks down, an instant too late as the floodlight catches her light-colored fur. She shades her eyes, and finally makes her way behind a tall concrete slab. It won't protect her from much in the way of incoming fire, but at least the light won't be such a problem.

Barry's shot hits at the feet of one of the men, and he flinches away from the spray of debris where the bullet strikes. "Fuck, there's more," he shouts, gesturing to his two buddies. "Let's get the cat out of the way first, though. We know where it is. Here, kitty kitty..."

Ace leans around the corner of her cover, one hand holding tight to a bit of the roof as she takes aim with her pistol, opening fire as they pass below her in their charge towards Swiftfoot, spreading her three bolts to try to catch as many as she can.

"Fuckin' whore moved," Barry grumps as his shot kicks up a plum of dust and debris. He tries again, employing the same technique as before, aiming for the man's hip, unaware of Ace's trio of shots towards the men.

Swiftfoot, for her part, remains crouched down behind the tall concrete slab, trying to escape the worst of the glare. She growls into her commlink.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: "I can't see to firre at them as long as that floodlight's on me." A derisive snort follows the statement. "But if they trry to come back herre, they'll be sorry."

The three men, however, are going to be pretty sorry already. Ace's gamble pays off, with all three shots flying true. The first man takes the shot in the side, and has just time enough to scream out in pain before he collapses to the ground. The second shot hits its target square in the back. He simply falls, his weapon sliding nervelessly from his fingers. The third man, apparently getting a fraction of a second's leg up on his companions (by way of them taking the hits first, of course), darts off to the left, and the shot catches him on the shoulder, spinning him completely around, but not dropping him.

And friends, that's where Barry's sniping comes in. That shot catches the last man standing, sending him tumbling to the ground, unsure of whether to clutch at his shoulder or at his hip. In any case, it probably won't matter for long.

The floodlight on the hovertruck swivels madly about now, trying to locate the sources of the incoming fire, and several more men disembark from the vehicle, assault rifles held at the ready, again starting toward the Demarian's position.

Floodlights make an excellent target, especially for a wannabe sniper like Barry. He skips over the four men advancing on Swifty's position, aiming up the body of the flood light and then firing once more, hoping to shoot out the device and be of some assistance to the Demarian.

Seeing the others pouring out of the vehicle, Ace opts to change position now that Swifty was out of immediate danger of being overwhelmed. She lets go of her grip on the edge of the roof and slides down away from the truck, dropping back down to the wreckage of the second floor where she takes cover for the moment.

Swiftfoot squints out from behind her makeshift shelter, shaking her head and rolling her eyes slightly, for anyone that might be watching closely. Nobody is, but hell, that doesn't stop her. She continues to crouch behind the slab, one paw shading her eyes from the bright light.

And then, the light just... isn't. With a crash of breaking glass, the floodlight goes out, a shower of sparks flying merrily from where it used to be.

So that brings the tally to: one hovertruck, minus the floodlight that used to be on top of it, sitting in the middle of the road, the driver still behind the wheel, and an unknown number of people still inside. Four men with assault rifles are headed toward a position further up into the ruins. They're taking their time and moving along under and behind debris this time.

Be damned foul hovertruck that's been a constant source of annoyance for Barry for the last three days! A source of annoyance he's been playing cat and mouse with, him being the mouse mainly. The crosshairs on the sniper rifle slowly track towards the engine, and mainly the block of the vehicle. His finger slowly caresses the trigger of the sniper, and then he slowly squeezes it. Barry's a fair way off the main trail, currently causing havok from afar. Swifty's almost been pinned down behind a large concrete pillar, and Ace... She's currently changing positions at the moment.

Ace continues to move, slipping silently through the ruins as she makes her way back down to street level, trying to sneak in closer in order to cut down on their ranged advantage with those assault rifles.

Andreo walks in from the landing pad again, once again coming to the sound of gun fight. The man once again takes some cover as he takes a moment to zero in on the sounds. He pulls his gun out from under his suit and starts to swing around to the far side of the noise.

As the light goes out with a crash, Swiftfoot peers out from behind the concrete slab that had been sheltering her from the worst of the glare. The Demarian, seemingly having been just waiting for the chance to do so, brings the pistol in her paw to bear on the four men moving toward her position, while still trying to keep some semblance of shelter.

The sniper rifle again fires true, this time the round hitting the hovertruck with a solid THUNK, leaving a sizeable hole in the side of it, toward the front. The truck's engine sputters to a stop, and tendrils of smoke creep slowly out from under the vehicle's hood. There's a flurry of activity from inside, and the driver emerges, a pistol in his hand, flanked by two more men.

With the driver's sudden departure from the damaged truck with his cohorts, the concealed Barry takes a moment to quickly guide the cross hairs towards the driver's hip. It's his usual tactic that requires no real explanation. If all goes well, the sniper rifle will kick into life once more, and leave the driver on the ground screaming.

As she glides quietly through the shadows, Ace slides her knife from it's sheath, moving up behind the last of the men. In an attempt to try and silence him before he can alert his fellow riflemen, she slips out from cover just long enough to snake an arm around and try to slit the unlucky fellows throat.

Andreo ducks down a dark alley after backtracking for a bit, and he slowly jogs down it, holding his gun out and ready. He slows down a bit as he approaches a corner and peeks around it; and, whoda thunk it, he finds himself looking at a formation of riflemen a few dozen feet away, and a sneaky ninja coming up by them.

A military-model hovertruck with a canvas-covered bay, painted in flaking gray, leads two sleek black hovercars over the wreckage, coming from the eastern half of Aurora Strand. As they approach the blockage, they come to a halt, and a pair of rifle-toting men in flak jackets stamped with a black 'W' drop down from the back of the truck. Ace pages: Is Marc bringing his own NPCs?

Swiftfoot squeezes the trigger on her pistol, a snarl curling her lip as she fires a three-round burst at the closest man to her, then ducks back down behind what sparse cover that she's got.

The shots fly true, all three of them catching the lead man in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground, a charred hole burnt most of the way through him. Ace's man is just as unlucky, slipping to the ground after having his throat slit. However, he emits a muffled cry right as she strikes, just enough to get the attention of the man in front of him. The fourth man takes cover behind a twisted sheet of metal, seeking the Demarian's position again.

Again the sniper rifle barks out, and again it draws blood. The man who was driving the hovertruck falls to the ground, clutching at his hip and screaming. His two cohorts look toward the side of the road where the shots came from, unshouldering their assault rifles and starting over that way.

The hovertruck settles a bit, and continues to smoulder in the middle of the road.

"Oh... Fuck me dead and bury me pregnant, that didn't work," Barry grumbles to himself, as he opens his left eye to select another target. With the men slowly approaching, he takes a moment to re-sight and gently caresses the trigger once more. This time, the shot's being aimed towards the man's chest, his earlier tactic being dropped. At the moment, the motorcade of the Warren goes unnoticed.

Swearing softly at her clumsiness, Ace looks up as the fourth man turns, swiftly deciding to take the direct route as she lunges forward. Assault rifles, she has learned, are lousy hand to hand weapons.

After seeing Ace's kill, Andreo swings his gun out around the corner. Ace's attack throws that plan off, so his takes a moment to reconsider before taking an aim at one of the riflemen that Ace isn't in the way of.

"Gunfire, gunfire!" the two Warren guards call, and in the confines of the wreckage, there's not enough space for a speedy turnaround and escape, so another six men pour out of the Warren truck. These guys realize that there's a pretty good chance that, the way things seem to be going now, there's really no need to interfere and risk making the winning side angry. They take cover behind their truck, rifles raised and ready, but don't go any further. One has a pair of binoculars out, scanning the surrounding wreckage, as both hovercars carefully maneuver around, preparing to run if necessary.

For the moment, Swiftfoot merely remains crouched down in the cover behind a tall, narrow slab of concrete. If she notices the Warren motorcade, she certainly doesn't come out to offer a hello.

The rifleman who's attention was caught by Ace curses and fumbles with his rifle for a moment, making an attempt to bring it to bear on the incoming, knife-wielding fury. The second one crouches in the ruins, sheltered from the Demarian's position, but unfortunately for him, quite visible from where Andreo stands, which proves to be his downfall. Three bursts of energy slam into his side, and he slumps to the ground.

One of the two men searching for Barry's sniper nest suddenly gets a very surprised look on his face as a red stain blooms across the front of his shirt. He drops to the ground, his rifle clattering alongside him, leaving only one man standing near the truck.

The disabled hovertruck simply sits there and continues to smoulder. More oily, black smoke pours out from under the hood.

"Four then reload," Barry quietly reminds himself, as he starts to aim up the last scraggler from the smoking truck. The gunman and the barrel of the sniper rifle move very slightly as he starts to line up the final man he has sights on. As usual, his finger slowly strokes the trigger of the sniper rifle, before gently squeezing it once more.

Determined to make up for her idiocy a moment before, Ace skillfully lunges, aiming the tip of her knife for the soft spot just below the ribs and driving it upward towards lungs and heart.

Andreo doesn't wait for his guy to go down before lining up the remaining guy, but seeing as Ace has him taken care of, Andreo turns around to check his flanks. "Uh oh," he mutters. "Warren," he says a little louder, perhaps enough for Ace to hear.

From the direction of the landing pad, starship engines can be heard spooling up. The Warren guards hold their positions, and the hovercars are now pointing the other direction, back toward the Aurora Strand. One of the guards--the one who had the binoculars before--now has a megaphone: "Nice show," he begins. "Now we'd really appreciate it if you put your weapons where we can see them and have your sniper give us a wave. If you don't, we're not afraid to bring in air support." All of them remain behind their truck.

Ace slides her blade free from the man's gut as he slips to the ground, turning as she hears Andreo's voice. "Is good to see you," she nods to him, looking over towards where he indicated. "Oh joy," she says, sheathing her blade, "What passes for the law."

Ace's newest victim does indeed slide to the ground, a trickle of blood trailing down from the corner of his mouth. Barry's man does much the same, the round from the sniper rifle hitting in the middle of his chest, sending him slumping to the ground.

The truck simply sits, more oily, black smoke pouring out from under its hood, and from the hole in the side of it.

Swiftfoot, though one would think she'd be just fine and dandy right about now, is in fact quite the opposite. The Demarian is, inexplicably, on her feet, with her paws held up in the air. Her golden eyes are narrowed as she stares at the man that has her at bay. A small group of humans, armed and armored, seem to have slipped up on Swifty's position, and one of them has a sleek energy pistol practically brushing the end of her nose.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: Swiftfoot's commlink is activated, but it's most definitely not Swifty's voice that can be heard. "I thought you fuckers might come after me," a familiar voice says, followed by a chuckle. "I know you're out there, Mal. Not a bad show. Figured you fuckers could use some help, but you turned out to be OK, so now we can just do away with your pet kitty here, hmm?"

Andreo spins his gun around to wrap his hand around the muzzle, and keeps it visible like that for now. "Whatcha thinkin'?" he asks Ace.

Barry slides his sniper rifle back, and carefully peers towards the Warren and the guards. A single hand comes up for the wave to the Warren, and the 'sniper' does his hardest to remain slightly concealed behind his cover. He glances towards Swifty's location, but doesn't make any movements, especially with the Warren and their offer of air support being nearby. He does talk quietly into his commlink however.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: You touch her... I'm going to make your life a living hell. Never could fuckin' stand a fair fight.

"Do we do something?" one of the guards says to the nominal leader, the guy with the microphone.

"Boss says we're not getting involved," the leader replies, lowering his megaphone. "Also that if we can't get that truck moved within a few minutes we're going back to the Warren. For now we're watching."

>>> COMMNET Ace on FOXHOUND: "You kill her, you will not live to take another breath."

The tall Ungstiri looks out of the corner of her eye at Andreo before turning her ice cold gaze on those surrounding Swifty. "I say we kill them if they so much as twitch in her direction."

Andreo follows Ace's gaze to the Demarian. "I was talking about the Warren guys," he comments.

The Demarian continues to stand at bay, her paws in the air, her ears back and her tail twitching irritably to and fro, despite her best efforts to control it.

The man that's got the gun trained on her keeps a close watch on the felinoid, but takes a couple of steps back, seemingly having second thoughts about being in range of Swiftfoot's natural weaponry. Several other humans, similarly kitted out, are in the area as well. They fan out into the ruins a bit, making note of the positions of the rest of the people present.

The door on the tail hovercar opens, and out steps a short Sivadian, followed by two surprised-looking suited men--the bodyguards, likely--as he makes his way over to the truck. "Give me that," he says to the guard with the microphone, and presses the talk button. "You gentlemen over there. Yes, you, by the Demarian. Have you any idea who you're delaying? I've a hint. It begins with a M, and has been known to bomb buildings when irritated properly."

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: Acheros' voice comes in over Swiftfoot's commlink again. "You'd have to find me first, Mal," he says, then snorts derisively. "What do you care so much about that filthy feline for, anyway? You care more about her than about your own family? What the fuck's your problem, boy?"

If one was to watch closely, they'd see the barrel of Barry's sniper rifle being lifted and moved in Swifty's direction. The barrel isn't aimed at the man with the weapon at Swifty, but it slowly starts to track over the ruins, as if looking for something or someone. He cocks his head to one side, and then quietly speaks into the commlink once more. He glances back towards the Warren and the Sivadian leaving the hovercars, letting his eyes leave the scenery in front of him.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: She's a friend, and more fuckin' family that you. Couple of things you should know, my girlfriend's a Timmiegirl, I've had beers with Jeff Ryan and a good friend of mine is a Zangali.

"Oh...them," Ace says, "With luck, they will trip over the man responsible for holding guns on Swifty and kill him out of boredom. How many are there? Warren, I mean?" She doesn't take her eyes off of those around Swifty.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: Acheros' voice comes over the commlink again. "Kill the furball," is his simple order. "We'll sort the rest of this out later, boy."

Swiftfoot continues to stand, paws above her head, tense as a spring, glaring at the man in front of her. If only looks could kill.

A couple of the men pause, as if listening to their commlinks, then look over toward the Warren motorcade. "We ain't holdin up shit. That ain't our truck," one of them calls out, then shrugs. The man standing in front of the Demarian looks away from her for a moment, his eyes flicking off to the left briefly. His gaze returns to Swiftfoot then. He swallows, and pulls the trigger on the pistol that's already so conveniently aimed at the felinoid.

"Oh, tenish," Andreo says, still watching over the Warrenites. "Wouldn't be all that much in other circumstances."

The Demarian starts to duck away from the shot as soon as she notes the intent, but isn't quite quick enough - it catches her across the side. Swiftfoot throws herself to the ground and rolls away, one paw going to the side that was struck by the energy blast. Hurting, definitely, but also still alive.

"Tiresome," Marcuccilli mutters to himself, glancing at the guards. "Slaughter them, if you would, and make sure you aim high." He straightens one of his cuffs. "I don't believe I've any current quarrel with the Jackals." Five of the guards slip out into the open, and five assault rifles cough.

Martian extremist shoots Demarian, but Barry misses the shooting of his fellow Jackal as he continues to survey the landscape for the taunting voice on the commlink. "One false move..." That's when he jumps from the burst from the Warrenites weapons.

"You have just signed your death warrants," Ace says coldly as she steps forward, drawing her pistol again, her anger an almost palpable thing. "I will give you one chance to survive...point to your boss and let him take the fall."

"Merde!" Andreo exclaims when the Warrenites open up. He quickly spins to get the wall between him and them.

Swiftfoot, conveniently covered by the Warrenites' fire now, scrabbles through the ruins until she's sheltered behind a pile of half-melted metal beams. The Demarian puts a paw to her side and simply sits there, breathing hard for the moment, her ears back as the assault rifle fire continues.

Caught completely off guard, unfortunately for them, three of Acheros' men drop right off the bat. Two of them manage to take shelter in the ruins. The man that actually pulled the trigger on the felinoid cries out for no apparent reason, his pistol dropping from his grasp as he scurries for cover. The telltale gray hair of Acheros is still nowhere to be seen.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: But his voice comes in over the commlink. "Fuck you. Fuck all of you. You'll not find me, not today. You fucking got lucky this time, with that Warren filth coming to your bloody rescue. I never would have counted on that shit. You won't be so fucking lucky next time. You'll be down one pet. And the Timmiegirl's next." There's a loud thump, a bit of feedback, and then only static.

The five Warren guards not busy in keeping up a covering fire duck out from behind the truck going in the other direction, skirting behind the burning truck and taking cover behind some wreckage, ready to establish a crossfire.

Marcuccilli lifts his megaphone again. "If this were a game of chess, what just happened to you would be called 'checkmate'," he says, aiming his remarks at the two remaining gunmen who aren't his. "Last chance. Surrender and perhaps I'll consider throwing you on the tender mercies of the Jackals; I myself can't say I've any qualms about killing the rest of you."

Most likely not the smartest move for a man playing sniper, but Barry does it any way. He places the sniper rifle on the ground, swings the shotgun around in front of him, and then shoulders the sniper rifle in the place where the shotgun formerly was. He speaks quietly into his commlink as he stands, a faint smirk playing on his lips, as he deliberately exposes himself towards Achero's men, perhaps to help give the Warren an idea of where to shoot.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: Take your best shot... Not hard to hit a man who's exposed like this... Nice figure on the horizon.

>>> COMMNET Fuzzball on FOXHOUND: There's no response forthcoming from Acheros. Only static can be heard from Swifty's commlink.

"So much for that pl..." Ace stops dead as she watches Barry's play, swearing softly under her breath as she looks around for any sign of Acheros.

"No place like TK," Andreo mutters from his wall.

The three remaining men in the ruins (two with guns, one without) look at each other, then give the area a once-over. One of the remaining gunmen gestures frantically at Barry. The man that's sans weapon shakes his head and starts to get to his feet, putting his hands over his head, and motioning for the other two to do the same.

The man that gestured at the now-exposed sniper, however, is having none of that. He levels his assault rifle to take a shot at Barry. The other two put their hands up in the air and back away from him as if he had a sudden onset of some sort of horribly contagious disease.

Swiftfoot continues to sit at her sheltered spot in the ruins, one paw at her side. Her ears droop out slightly to the sides, and the end of her tail twitches limply.

A pair of assault rifles from the Warren camp sputter, aimed at the psychotic one. Marcuccilli stands up and stretches, gesturing with his cybernetic, and the rest of the guards move in, splitting up--a few to secure the surrendering gunmen, and the rest to hook a winch up to the truck blocking the road.

Barry glances downwards at the gunman who's now aiming at him, and closes his eyes as he waits for the meeting of hot lead with fleshy human skin. That's when the guns from the Warren bark out, and he stumbles backwards, and falls. He wasn't shot, just jumped from the unexpected gunfire and lost his footing on the rubble. He mumbles softly into his commlink once more, as he looks up to what classes as a sky on Tomin Kora.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: Swifty alright?

"I need to cool down," Andreo mutters before slipping away.

Ace sighs, shaking her head as she again holsters her pistol, "So...he gets away again," she mutters as she trots over towards Swiftfoot. "Are you okay?"

Marcuccilli, now assured by one of his bodyguards that it's safe, steps out from behind his cover and walks over to eye the two captured gunmen. "Beg pardon," he says, glancing momentarily in the direction of Ace and Swiftfoot, "but do you want these?"

"Think so," the felinoid replies, looking up at the Ungstiri. "Feet werren't fast enough," Swiftfoot observes, then chuckles weakly. "Ow..." She blinks then, one eyeridge quirking upward as she looks over to the remaining two gunmen. "I think Torr would like them quite a lot," she notes, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

The psychotic gunman never gets the chance to fire at Barry. He jerks as multiple bullets riddle his body, then slumps to the ground. The remaining two drop what weapons they may have had, and allow themselves to be secured.

The hovertruck doesn't do anything except smoulder some more as the winch is hooked up to it.

The sniper picks himself up off the ground, and starts to pick his way out of his not so hidden hide, trying his hardest to avoid the Guards from the Warren. He's keeping his head low, just in case of anymore opposition lurking around.

"I've never been a fan of his," Marcuccilli says dismissively, waving the two captives toward the Jackals. "His shoulder has recovered, I imagine?" Without waiting for an answer he continues. "I've been delayed long enough. Good evening." As the Warren truck tugs the other one off to one side of the road, Marcuccilli's bodyguards fall in behind the Don of the Warren, and all three return to their hovercar. The guards give the area one more lookaround before clambering back into their truck.

"Is good to see you too, Gospadin Marcuccilli," Ace nods to the don as she speaks into her comm.

>>> COMMNET Ace on FOXHOUND: "Da, she is okay...are you?"

"Thanks," the Demarian grunts, clapping her paw into Ace's hand and hauling herself to her feet. She stretches briefly, then winces, paw going to her side again. "Second time I been shot on this planet," Swifty notes, shaking her head and sighing. She stares after Marcuccilli as he retreats, head tilted slightly to the side, blinking curiously. "Hrh... who woulda everr thought..." The orange-furred Jackal trails off then, shaking her head. "Cmon, let's get those assholes back to the ship. I'm surre Torr'll love em. Might even make him feel betterr forr missin out on tonight's fun and games."

"Those assholes" as they've been so lovingly dubbed, still stand with their hands over their heads, dubiously eyeing the trio that they've been left to.

Barry unattaches the commlink mouth piece, and then speaks into it as he makes his way towards the Demarian and Ungstiri duo. The departing Warrenites getting a quick glance, and a grateful nod, but nothing Ace as he continues on his way, cradling the shotgun with one hand. He shakes his head, and then laughs as he spies the men. "Just me fuckin' luck... More corpses."

The Warren motorcade sets off again, picking its way across the wreckage and toward the landing field.

>>> COMMNET Fiddy Cal on FOXHOUND: I've been out in this fuckin' shit hole for the last two days... I've got cuts which are infected, and I need Sol to give me a massage.... But if yer talkin' bout this shit fight, no new holes.

"Is good," Ace says with a sigh, replying to both Barry and Swifty at once regarding their lack of injuries. "So it seems your uncle, he was not working with those in the truck...you have many enemies you did not know about on top of those you go around making on your own."

Swiftfoot snorts softly. "The ones in the trruck likely just rregular old down-home Tomin Korra scum," the Demarian says, drawing a pistol and holding it easily in one paw, aimed toward the two prisoners. She eyes the one who pulled the trigger on her in particular. "Ain't so fun when you'rre on the otherr end of it, is it?" She trails off into a series of grumbled curses in Demarese, most of them calling into question whether the target's lineage has indeed been crossed with that of a mentally deficient bumbler.

The prisoners, for their part, eye the injured Demarian, eye the pistol, and just generally look... well, as if they've been taken prisoner.

"So what's that now? La Terre, Ungstir, SHIELD, the Sons of Mars, those others wankers back on Mars," Barry rattles off, arching a brow. "My own family, adopted and biological... Solace when she's annoyed." He glances across to the Prisoners, and then arches a brow. "I'm really too fuckin' tired to beat ya both to death at the bloody moment. But we've got a Zangali on board who's been molesting the furniture... Sure he'll appreciate his new sex toys." He glances across to Swifty, and then arches a brow.

Ace, on the other hand, takes a more direct approach as she pulls out her blade and cleans it on the shirt of one of the standing men. "Is no reason to give them to Zangali," she says, stepping back and sliding the now-clean knife back into the sheath. "We have more than one alive...we only need one to talk." She calmly pulls her pistol and aims it at the man who shot Swiftfoot. "If you are lucky, I will count to three."

Swiftfoot yawns and blinks lazily, her golden gaze resting on the pair of prisoners. "Y'know, almost might have been betterr if the Don's men had gunned you down," she says, then gives a wry sort of smirk. She gestures with her gun at the men as well. "You'd best answerr herr questions, yeah? She doesn't bluff."

The man who now bears a bloody swath down the front of his shirt blinks and turns a peculiar shade of green. He stares down at the front of his shirt as if it held him enthralled, that smear of red across the clean cloth. The second man, the one who so recently shot the Jackal's pilot, swallows as he meets Ace's steely gaze. "Uh..." His gaze wavers, and he looks away. "I'll talk," he says, after only a moment's pause. "You'll probably kill me anyway, but I'll talk. He... he left us here. Fucker."

Barry brings the shotgun up to his shoulder, and smiles happily. He doesn't make any comments, well this time. He then actions the weapon, and thumbs off the safety.

Ace doesn't lower the pistol, her gaze steady as she stares at the man, "Simple question," she says, "Where can we find him."

Swiftfoot's ears flick as some debris settles nearby, but her eyes remain on the pair of men. The Demarian is utterly silent, apparently having no snappy repartee to contribute just this moment. The pistol, however, seems to speak for itself.

"New Luna," the man says after a moment, fidgeting slightly. "I... I think he said something about going after some of the militia..." He trails off and swallows nervously. "You... you're still gonna kill me, aren't you?" The other man is still silent, though the green tinge to his skin has lessened slightly.

"Go on Swifty," Barry comments, staring at the man. "... Who they goin' after on New Luna, And why?" He looks down the sight of the shotgun, and then points it down towards the man's groin. He doesn't seem the least bit worried if they don't answer his questions.

Ace doesn't answer the man, instead she just waits for him to answer Barry.

Being the sensible sort (that is to say, sensible enough not to argue with three gun-toting lunatics on Tomin Kora), the man in question continues to talk. "I... I don't know why. He wants to hit some of the militia. That big lizard, for one." He licks his lips, and fidgets again, his eyes shifting away. "There's also... others. Doctor Freyssinet, Larin Weyr..."

The barrel of the shotgun comes across to his the other captive, and then Barry smiles once more. "Anything else we should know before things happen?" His finger slips inside of the trigger guard, and rests against the trigger.

Again, Ace remains silent, letting the man answer if he chooses.

Swiftfoot remains silent as well, her tail twitching expectantly, the pistol still held in one paw.

The second man looks up in alarm at the shotgun being leveled at him. "N-n-no," he stammers, shaking his head back and forth vehemently. "Well, I think he wants to kill you... your crew... but... you knew that already..." He eyes the shotgun intently, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead and working its way down the side of his face.

"Wasn't what I wanted to hear," Barry comments, point the rifle down towards the man's groin. The finger gently depresses the trigger, and the gun kicks into life.

"You," Ace says as the gun goes off, looking at the remaining man, "If I see you again, you will not live to see me, vi paneeyamete?"

The orange-furred pilot flinches, jumping back at the unexpected shotgun blast. "Sweet Brrakirr," she breathes, eyeing the mess at her feet.

And he is indeed a mess. The man that Barry shot is nearly torn in half by the blast, and slumps to the ground in a bloody lump of flesh and clothing. His companion screams and flinches away from the blast of the gun, but gets spattered with the man's blood nonetheless. He looks down at his blood-spattered clothes and hands, shaking his head as if he could change things just by disbelieving. His wild-eyed gaze goes to Ace then, and he nods dumbly. The man starts to back away, but falls over a chunk of concrete, ending up flat on his rear end on the ground, which doesn't seem to slow him down one iota. He scrambles over the ground, his eyes still on the Ungstiri.

"I don't know 'bout you," Barry comments, as he casts an uncaring glance down to the dead man. He raises a hand a wipes the blood from his face. "I'm really gettin' sick and tired of you fuckers tryin' to kill me."

"So you had better run," Ace cautions the man, "Quickly."

Swiftfoot snorts and brushes a couple of droplets of blood from her long, white whiskers. "Fuck, couldn't you have, you know, let us get out of the spatterr zone?" she inquires of Barry, then snorts, turning her attention back to the last man standing. Sitting, rather. She aims her pistol at him, then uses it to gesture off to the side, further into the ruins. "Hurry up, beforre one of us changes theirr mind."

The former prisoner seems to get the picture, struggling to his feet and running off into the ruins, ducking behind the first cover he can get to and disappearing into the night.

Ace finally holster her pistol with a sad sigh, reaching up to turn her collar up before slipping her hands into her pockets. "Had thought I had put my murdering days behind me," she says softly, shaking her head as she starts to walk back towards the landing pad. "Perhaps it is best we go to New Luna now."

"I wonder if I can skull cap him on the run?" Barry muses to himself, as he reactions the shotgun. He doesn't raise the weapon once more, and then shakes his head. "Needed to be done Swifty... Shoulda taken him back for Sol, she's always bitchin' she ain't gettin' to kill people. Coulda shared half those fuckers today with her."

Ace finally holster her pistol with a sad sigh, reaching up to turn her collar up before slipping her hands into her pockets. "Had thought I had put my murdering days behind me," she says softly, shaking her head as she starts to walk back towards the landing pad. "Perhaps it is best we go to New Luna now."

"I don't like it much myself," Swiftfoot says, padding along beside Ace. "I... I'll neverr get used to it, no matterr how many times I've got to do it. Everry time, I have to tell myself, it's my life orr his..." The felinoid's tail flicks to and fro as she walks toward the landing pad. "Yeah, coulda," she offers over her shoulder to Barry. "I'm kinda glad she wasn't herre, though. I worry about herr sometimes, when things get rrough like that..."

"Had old fart Ren say to me once, that each time ya killed it got easier," Barry comments, as he pulls his attention away from the where the man ran. He turns on his heel, and starts to follow Ace and Swifty. "But each time ya do... It takes somethin' way. It's true, it does."

"Then stop it," Ace growls, "You can choose to do so if you wish. Is one thing to fight for your life...to defend yourself. It is another to simply kill in cold blood when it is not necessary let alone to 'play' with lives as you do. It is times like this I regret ever having hooked up with the Jackals."

Swiftfoot heaves a sigh, her ears drooping to the sides. "Prrashu prroscheniya, Ace," she sounds out after a moment, stumbling over the somewhat-unfamiliar syllables. "S'about all I know how to say. Well that, and thank you and you'rre welcome." The Demarian falls silent then, stalking toward the landing pad, her paws in her pockets, and her expression faintly contemplative.

"Stop it and fuckin' let some load of wankers take away what I care for?" Barry airs, shaking his head. "Hell... Who's to say that he ain't gonna hook up with me Uncle?" He shakes his head, and then makes his way away from the main path. "Ain't got anything left, and got nothing to loose these days." He taps his fingers against the but of the shotgun, and then snorts. "Fuckin' turn this weapon on meself, if I had the guts."

"Da, it is good to know you value your crewmates and Solace in particular so highly as to consider them 'nothing to lose,'" Ace shakes her head, putting a companionable arm around Swiftfoot's shoulders, "Sometimes I regret it," she says quietly to the Demarian. "But...usually, I do not, vi paneeyamete? Let us go get a drink or perhaps two and get the blood cleaned out of your fur. Snowmist, as I recall, used hydrogen peroxide to wash it out."

"Don't talk like that," the Demarian says, looking back over her shoulder at Barry. "I know this whole situation's gotta be fuckin with yourr head, but... don't talk like that. You mean a lot to all of us. This crrew rreally is like a family, meh? Can you see me trrying to explain that to Sol?" Swiftfoot sighs then, and nods at Ace. "Both, I think. And yeah, perroxide worrks nice. I oughta just dye myself black and get it overr with." A faint chuckle at this, as the felinoid stalks along beside the Ungstiri, still heading back toward the landing pad.

No response or anything else, as Barry continues on his way away from Swifty and Ace. There comes a swearing in Martian Latin, and then silence, before the shotgun resounds once more. It sounds like he shot a drum or something, which is followed by more swearing and cursing in Latin.