Log:Hutt Cartel: Men Plan, the Gods Laugh
Weeks have passed since the death of old Cal Keleki, the Cartel's best and most trusted assassin, and in true Hutt fashion, the Cartel has spent that time not only mourning his loss but plotting revenge on his murderer Sena Parkere. Lord Ikkan has ordered the capture of Sena, who is to be brought before the Hutt Lords alive to pay for Cal's murder and many other crimes against the Cartel. And what better place to start looking that her home on Empress Teta?
A noble of this planet, Sena Parkere resides in a three-story penthouse apartment at the top of one of the tallest skyscrapers in Cinnagar. Based on the ornate marble lobby alone, you can tell it is not a cheap place. The plan was to sneak into the apartment as a cleaning crew, capture their target and set the whole place on fire.
But as the elevator doors open to the lavish apartment it seems that its occupants have very recently been evacuated. The study is in complete disarray with valuable pieces of artwork, books, and furniture either knocked over or removed altogether. In the bedroom, shoes and clothes are scattered about as if someone rushed to pack and could not take time to pack certain articles. On the kitchen counter, an ash tray holds a still smoking tabac stick with lipstick marks on the filter.
So armed with cleaning supplies, a bag of incendiary devices, and their hearts, our rag tag group of criminals find themselves in their now pointless janitorial disguises with their target long gone. Where could Sena Parkere have gone? What is her connection with Cal Keleki? And what exactly could she have done to offend the Cartel so?
Siha Archer relented when it came to the disguise, the coveralls of a cleaner in no way appropriate to wear atop a set of bulky Mandalorian armor. So here she is, hair wound up and out of her face in a beautiful pouf atop her head, tendrils of kinky curls jutting out, the woman with the Genosian leg bending awkwardly in the pants pushes her cart forwards into the obviously abandoned apartment and swears in Mandalorian a few choice words, "I wore my sword in a most uncomfortable fashion and no one is here." Seethingly whispered out, the woman not knowing why she's whispering, but she IS, "Kriffin', bloody, blasting ...bean-boozled ..." Said with a low mutter, the Mandalorian pushing her cart grouchily towards the kitchen, "I'll sweep here!" She calls, the words she tosses having double meaning; sweep the floors, and sweep the scene.
Myra steps out of the turbolift, dressed in what appears to be a janitor's coverall, complete with her name embroidered on a small patch. 'Myra Bale' is picked out in pink thread, with 'Cartel Cleanup' below it. She's smiling a wide, toothy smile that remains unfazed by the chaos that greets them, snapping on long yellow gloves. "Ah yes, what a wonderful day for a toss, don't you think?" she twitters at her compatriot, toddling into the room on her dainty feet, practical flats scuffing against the flooring. "I'll take the study," she replies to Siha's claim, immediately gravitating towards a piece of artwork. "Oh my, this is *very* nice, I daresay one of the best pieces I've seen in years... If you ask me, it's Madam Parkere we should be recruiting, and forget about that crusty old fart Cal Keleki. I mean, honestly, he can't have been a frightfully dreadsome assassin if he was dispatched that easily, now could he? Don't you agree?"
Like all rich ass people, the kitchen carries a rather minimal aesthetic and in comparison to the rest of the overturned apartment is perhaps the cleanest and most untouched room. The counter is mostly clean save for the smoking tabac stick in the center. On the floor a few paces away is a conservator filled with glorious foods that regular ass aliens couldn't dream of affording. Just in front of the conservator is a business card. On the front it reads "Zofi Jenerian - Mining Guild Board Member" and on the back seems to be a hand drawn diagram of dots and random lines that twist and curve and point from one dot to another. Some non-sensical Aurebesh short hand is scribbled about as well.
Much like Cinnagar's library, the study is an old sturdy affair. Fine leather seating arm chairs and dark wood give it an air of seriousness one might expect in such a room. Books have been pulled off some of the shelves, and papers are strewn about on the floor. Lighter rectangular marks on the walls indicate some paintings have been taken down. Clean shapes surrounded by dust hint at what might have been sitting there not too long ago. In the center of the room, a desk that looks as old as time itself is a computer. It's screen looks cracked and but it's still on and flickering with some of its display still visible.
Is ..is Myra speaking to Siha. If so Siha seems unawares, nudging the cart away with her hip as she strides into the kitchen, katana handle sticking out from the back of her grey coveralls along the neckline, "Oh, scoreeeeee." Whispered to herself, Siha moving to open up the front of her outfit with a quick zip, conservator raided and packaged easily toted items stuffed in as she looks around, "Oh, well ...Look at that." A pause in her raid, the woman closing the door after a moment, spotting the card as an afterthought, "Huh, "Zofi Jenerian, Mining Guild member." Called out over her shoulder, an exotic fruit bitten into as she steps back from the refresher, her card holding hand flipping it around in her fingertips to eye it, "Got a map, not sure of /what/, but it's mappy." Crunch. Chew chew. Stride. Out of the kitchen.
"Ah, the terminal, of course," Myra coos to herself, clapping yellow-glove-clad hands together with glee. "Tech-nahl-ogee," she breathes, fingers settling on the large colored keys and getting right to work tap-tap-tapping away. The longer she types, the more wooden her smile becomes, however, and a few moments later, green eyes jump wide in shock. "Oh, goodness. Hot singles in my... oh, I did not... how do they know where... both of them are... oh, fee. This is- this isn't appropriate for work hours," she decides, and hurriedly slaps at the monitor as though that would clear its display. ZAP. "Oh. Oh no. What a dreadful little sound!"
Wringing her hands together with rubbery squeaks, she steals a glance towards the kitchen to be sure Siha can't see what she's doing, and then reaches out a single finger to nuuuudge it until it topples onto the floor, catlike. "I DROPPED A BOOK, EVER SO CLUMSY OF ME!" she calls to the other woman before turning back to the terminal, hands dropping to her hips, toe tapping. "Give me your secrets, you blasted box!" the little gangster hisses furiously at the machine, shaking it like a box on Life Day Eve. Her eyes jump wide a second time, however, and a small cable is produced and shoved into a port, then connected to her datapad. "Ah yes, smashing," her voice comes coolly wafting to the kitchen. "I've done a bang-up job hacking into the system and all of Madam Parkere's secrets are now in our possession. Pish tosh, the work of a moment, my dear, really it was. Do you smell something burning?" The terminal ignites a small flame. This is what Siha returns to.
Ahhh yes. Myra Bale has everything handled in here. When Siha walks, her steps seem to disturb in items on the shelves that were already in a precarious position. They fall to the floor with a loud CRASH and shatter into a million shards. The computer's small flame slowly begins to grow, catching onto a fur blanket that had been sloppily thrown over the corner of the desk. All is well here. No need to panic.
"Oh." Siha says, fruit holding hand dropping briefly to her side, a few last chews done as she watches that terminal set itself on fire, "Oh, sweetie ..I ..I don't think you should touch the electronics any-" CRASH. In the aftermath of the downed shelves Siha will half-step back, eyebrows raising, "I believe heavily that we ...are not the right people for this job." Said with some chagrin, Siha moving to check out Myra's datapad as the blanket catches fire, "Oh ..." Reaching over she'll tap here and tap that, letting Myra hold the datapad if she wishes as the Mandalorian happily intrudes upon her space, "Oh see, look, a message, /and/ a video, do you want the pleasure of opening them?" Only fair, she did set the place on fire setting the mood.
"I agree wholeheartedly, I mean, there's not even anyone here, I was under the impression that that dreadful sourpuss would be at home in bed and we'd get to-" Myra's thoughts are cut short by the appearance of the video on her datapad and she is offered the pleasure of doing the honors. "Why, that is very sweet of you," she says genuinely to the other woman, with a huge, beaming smile that eclipses the rest of her face, her rubber-wrapped thumb depressing a button at the base of the pad and causing the video to commence while she looks on with enormous eyes.
It's a wedding video! At first, it is nothing but a black screen with some shuffling about until a shot of a beautiful young woman appears on the screen. She's looks very regal, sitting in a chair as she's getting her hair and nails done. With a soft smile, she occasionally sneaks shy glances at the camera before turning to a bridesmaid, "Teel, you think you could help me put on my shoes later?" She sneaks shy looks at the camera, clearly making poor effort to look natural.
It then cuts to a young man, a few scars on his face though nothing too grotesque. He's buttoning up his fancy shirt as the person behind the camera talks to him. "It's the big day! I don't think I've ever seen you smile this much before, man." And he is grinning. Big. Like an idiot, with a few teeth missing from that smile. "Shut up," he says, just as shy as his bride looked a few seconds ago, but still grinning.
The rest is a montage of ceremonies and celebrations set to sentimental, romantic music. There's an endless amount of drunk aliens, with a very young Lord Ikkan featured for a brief second, wishing the couple well in Huttese.
And the message?
- Dear Cal and Sena Keleki,
- Thank you for choosing Rhinnal Fertility Clinic. You've chosen to invest in your future, and we're honored that you wouldtrust us to keep it healthy and safe until you are ready to claim that future. Attached are your yearly reports on the health of your frozen embryos, along with an invoice of our annual fees. Please let us know if you have any questions.
As mentioned, a series of boring charts and graphs are included that show the health and stability of each frozen embryo. But it's old data. Very old.
Siha Archer grins crookedly, pleased it seems by Myra's genuine happiness. It's a nice moment, ruined by the video, "Ugh, what's the point of a scar if you're not gonna make it a good one .." Commented with disgust, the woman rolling her eyes as her free hand not holding fruit waves in the air, "Yadda yadda ...We gotta kill Teel. And Cal." A heavy sigh. HEAVY, "You think they used those eggs, or do we have a chance to kidnap them and hold them for ransom .." It has been a long while. A glance over the datapad to the bedroom and Siha will give Myra a nice hip nudge before she begins striding, "C'mon, that's boring stuff, let's check out their sex den."
Sena Parkere's looks as if its been completely ransacked. What was once a soft and luxurious room where a woman could relax after a long day, has been turned completely over. Perfume bottles and other care products are knocked over the dresser. Clothes are thrown here and there on the floor and the bed itself. The form a trail toward the MASSIVE walk-in closet that is bigger perhaps that some apartments on Nar.
Myra might appear to be a vacant bobble-head of a woman, but something seems to click in her head while the video is playing. You know because she clicks her tongue loudly against her teeth when it happens, and immediately interrupts the audio to point at the video. "Well I never! That's old Madam fuddy-duddy herself, and Cal Keleki too! If I had to guess, and you'll find that I am guessing indeed, I would guess that he isn't even *dead*!" Her posh accent can't hide how distressed she is by this conclusion. "And naturally we have to kill Teel, but at this rate I am not at *all* sorry to say that we have to kill all three of them, for Lord Ikkan's satisfaction, don't you agree? I mean, it makes terribly little sense why Cal would do this, other than the tiny detail that we were meant to exterminate him after his last job as a retirement gift, but otherwise, I am flabbergasted."
She follows Siha into the bedroom, glancing around with her wide, mousey eyes, hands held tight to her flat chest where she can clutch them together, tiptoeing like she might step in something toxic. She immediately gravitates into the large closet, looking about the interior with her mouth hanging unabashedly agape. "Well, knock me over with a feather! If this isn't the biggest closet I've ever seen I'll buy dinner with Mr. Yoska, really I will. You could keep an outfit for every day of the year in here!"
Distracted by all the shoe storage, she calls back, "Those two old prunes are terribly dried up. I honestly don't know the shelf life on a frozen infant seed."
Siha Archer walks in like a bull in a china shop, but it looks like another bull has already been in the place before her. Driving in further, kicking this and that, a bottle of perfume there, some intimates there with a curl of her lip. Finally, into that huge closet she goes, grunting with annoyance, rifling through items and pulling things down from shelves to further wreck things. A nice leather and lace body suit is drawn out with some lowkey interest, and with a turn of her back to Myra Siha will briefly hold it up to her own chest, tilting her thing down to eye it, seeing a little notebook tucked into the lining of the breast, "Oh ..." The item gets tossed over her shoulder casually, Siha cocking a hip out to flip through the book, lips silently moving, "That bitch ..like 15 more kills than me ..and ..no." A look over her shoulder to Myra, "He's dead. It's fresh here, this is her /very/ used kill book. I have one too. But she's like a million years older than me so .." She's not jealous.
Siha Archer holds the book to Myra for confirmation, Cal's name on the last page.
Those numbnuts. Someone buy these fools a new pair of ears! They don't even realize they've tripped the security system somehow. Out of nowhere three security droids arrive into the room, not wasting any time as one takes a shot at Myra. Droid 1 aims for Siha, but Droid 3 stomps past walking up to the Mandalorian directly to take a metalic swing at the woman.
"It's only to be expected, dear, you'll catch up soon, I just know it," the smaller woman assures the taller, reaching out to pat at her arm after being shown the book. "This still doesn't mean he's dead, really it doesn't. If I wanted to fool someone into thinking I'd killed someone else the first thing I'd do is leave a trophy like this to be found, this is amateur-level posturing and I'm going to enjoy dragging the-" But again, she is interrupted before she can detail her intentions with Madam Parkere.
The janitor's jumpsuit with the cheery pink nametag seems innocent enough until the droids appear and Myra's hands vanish into the roomy side pockets, remerging in a blink holding a pair of K-16 Bryars that seem cartoonishly large in her dainty hands. "Ah, marvelous, company has arrived," she coos to Siha with a wide, suddenly sharklike grin. The thunderous report of the Bryars fills the bedroom as the little lady unleashes hell on the new arrivals, blowing one to pieces and shooting a glowing hole through another.
"I hope so, this is pretty soul destroying. I still have all my teeth." Says Siha who begins to rummage further back into a line of hung clothes and the like. Half-buried she'll call out, an arm busting out holding a garment on a hangar, "OH. Look! I haven't seen one of these in forever, wow .." Siha is pulling out behind an old Hutt Cartel Armor piece from WAY BACK in the closet with the name 'Parkere' on a tag inside. She shakes it out a few times, the thing harboring burns here and there which mingle with other holes and dark stains, but Siha is in love.
"Awh man, it's barely even bled in, this is so cool ..." BONK. CRACK. Siha suddenly finds herself being attacked by a droid, the attack hitting her cybenetic Genosian leg, cracking the woman in the hip where the leg is jointed in alongside her living breathing flesh, "JAWA LORD-!" Don't startle Siha. Or do so while injuring her. Instantly the armored clothing suit is swung over her other shoulder, woman apparently claiming two pairs of clothing here, hand dragging the blade out from the back of her shirt to SWING. TANG. SHWA. Cutting down the droid without second thought, chest rising and falling heavily, "Ouch." Pain registers finally, Siha grunting as she looks to see if Myra is okay. And look, that little lady is unleashing hell and Siha is standing there, sword in hand, to stare in absolute appreciation of the other, "Wow. I am ..so turned on right now." A slow nod, completely caught off guard.
Droid 3 doesn't stand a chance against the Mandalorian. Siha's hot blade melts through its metal framing like butter and for a second it stands there before falling to pieces at her feet. Like wise, Droid 1's existence is rather short as Myra's blaster tears him apart. Even with a massive gaping hole through him, Droid 2 is still alive and kicking and ditching Myra he goes instead for Siha.
It then the PING of the turbolift sounds in the foyer. Shortly after a timid voice calls, "Uh ... hello?" Hearing the action in the other room, footsteps sound and in pops the head of a small Rodian maid. Look, it's the ACTUAL cleaning crew! She gets a good look at Siha and Myra, dark eyes wide with fear as she takes a step back. "I'll ... come back later ..." It's most inconvenient to be identified by the help when they still need to set this apartment on fire.
Once Myra gets going, she doesn't stop. The hand cannons continue to blast away, mowing down the last droid with a near-miss and then an impact that sizzles right through its core processing unit, and the small, thin woman stands over it with a delighted smile splitting her face in two. The Rodian maid speaks, and without looking, Myra's fingers eject spent powerpacks, slam a new one into place, and swivel out on the end of one arm to pull the trigger from inside the yellow rubber glove she's still wearing, shooting the maid without a second thought. "Tut tut tut! Can't have that, now can we?" she chides in a lilting voice, head tilting to the side to peer at the alien girl. "Maids are supposed to clean up messes, dear, not make new ones."
The real maid gets a look from Siha who raises a hand up, "U-" And then Myra is shooting and Siha is openly gaping, "Whoaaaaa, damn ..woman, you ..daaaaaamn." This is out of the realm of Siha's normal operating procedures, "So ...I may look janky but ...I /do/ have credits set aside for /bribes/ of people like this, because she /could/ be good information." Items of clothes are pulled off and tossed down, Siha striding to the very injured Maid to crouch down beside her, a hand coming out to press down to the maids injury, "Soo .." Oh man, Siha's so used to her helmet concealing her features, but now there is empathy on the woman's features as she leans down, "Wow, you are ..bleeding hard. I've been here, and look at me now, I'm still alive, so here's the deal. Tell me where I can find the lady of the house and I will set you up in an apartment." Her own, "And pay for your injuries and get you in a real nice tank. A teal one. It's my fave." Nod nod, is she pressing hard enough? "Deal?"
Oh poor dear. The shot goes right to her sweet little knee cap making her fall forward in the midst of an attempt to run away. As she falls a frightened squeak emits from her small green mouth, and she cries from both the pain and the danger. "I ... I don't know," her teary eyes look at the Genosian leg before back up at Siha, "S-she left not too long ago. In a rush. She was with that one other woman who works for her and attends to her needs. Teel ... I think? And-and-and a Devaronian! I don't know who he was though ..." The sweet maid, buries her face into the soft expensive carpet and weeps, "Please don't kill me!"
There is no empathy of the sort on Myra's face as she steps over with those large handguns and pokes one over Siha's shoulder and shoots at the maid some more, missing the first two shots, and if the impish gleam in her eyes is any indication, that might actually have been on purpose just to watch her squirm a little before the third sinks into her face with an impact that blows a small crater in the front of the sweet maid's head. "...you wore gloves, of course, didn't you?" the woman in the jumpsuit asks nonchalantly as she slides her pistols back away, the roomy garment now making total sense. "Now let's finish up and toodle-pip on out of here, shall we?"
And she ded. SHE DED. "Why would I wear gloves when we're gonna burn the place down." Leaning up off the Rodians' leg Siha will briefly gaze upon the poor thing, "And really, if they find my prints it'll only encourage them to come after me and I welcome it." Wiping her hand off on the hem of the cleaners smart cleaning skirt Siha is soon pushing up, walking to her cart as hands continue to wipe down on the front of her coveralls. Crouching down she'll pry out from beneath the fabric covered thing a flamie-thinger, you know, like a flame gun or like a real fancy plasma lighter. And she'll begin to go around lighting things on fire, setting her sights on the bed first, "Grab the notebook, the uniform, and don't lose your datapad, we can still glean more data-" FWOOOSH. FWOOSH. FWOOOSH. Illuminated by the flames which erupt Siha works methodically, apparently not new at this, "Toodle-pippin' away, girl ..." FWOOSH.
The maid squeaks and shrinks into herself on the floor with every missed shot Myra takes. That is until the third one completely destroys that cute little face as if it never existed, and she is silent forever.
The fire in the study has already grown to a severity difficult to manage, and very soon the rest of the penthouse ignites in similar fashion as the pair light their way out of the apartment. Flames lick all around them and the rooms start to fill with the kind of thick black smoke that only rich people stuff can produce. It's too bougie to breath in! And since you DON'T take the elevator in the event of an emergency, a set of fire exit stairs do just the trick. So down Siha and Myra go, carrying plans of the life Cal and Sena could have had together. Plans they had wanted so badly to carry out until the Gods laughed in their faces.