A single twitch, just an imperceptible flutter of the eye was all that Arnaut needed to affirm the man’s timidity. That and the fact that, from the look of his eyes, Arnaut guessed the man probably wanted to piss his pants. Why shouldn’t he? He was in the room with a man that was, according to rumors, the cause of the death of an entire planet. It was bitterly hilarious, and Arnaut would’ve laughed had that man who, according to the rumors, killed a planet, had not been Arnaut himself. He let out an exasperated sigh, tired of dealing with yet another frightened attorney.

The man sat down, laying his holopad and a stylus onto the table next to a audio-recorder. Arnaut could see from the way he squeamed in his chair that he really, really did not want to be right there right then. Too bad. Arnaut leaned back in his own chair, just a few meters away from the other man, separated by a chain fence. He stared straight ahead defiantly, waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions.

The other man began to sweat and undid his collar a little. He tried to cover his fear by acting like he was fiddling around with his recorder, until his nervousness and the shake of his hands made him drop it onto the floor. He made a few mumbled apologies and bent down to pick it up.

“Are we going to start this or not?” Arnaut asked irritably. The sudden, actual use of words startled the man, causing him to jerk upright, right into the bottom of the table. He yelped and fell backwards.

“I can see this is going to be an interesting session,” Arnaut muttered, face in his hands.




Two hours later, Arnaut was sitting in a dingy cell of stone and filth. His interview was over; they had very little need of him. Apart from the need to keep him locked up under three guard escort at all times. It wasn’t fun. Not by a long shot.

Arnaut laid his head back. He felt...weak. Helpless. Tired. It was three days since they’d been imprisoned, three days with minimal food, without being able to see any of their superiors, barely being able to see each other. The entire squad was faced with charges of conspiracy, murder in the first degree, and manslaughter on a level that could send them to jail for more years than Arnaut would care to imagine.

Apparently, as the story went, the entire Wraith squad was in league with Albatross. The murder charges were on the entirety of the Derrond squad, which now came to a complete nine with the last two assassinated just a few days before. That’s what the stories said anyways. There were a lot of stories, but they almost all agreed on that fact.

Along with that, the squad, due to alleged connections to Albatross, was charged with over one hundred million accounts of manslaughter with at least 500,000 more pending. Basically the entire population of Serrell minus those who could make it out.

It was....was...ridiculous, to say the least. Arnaut was still trying to wrap his head around the scale of the charges that were being pressed on them. They’d told their story, hundreds of times. About the virus, the bombs, Villman’s betrayal...everything. It was like they weren’t listening. That was most disturbing of all. That meant that Albatross, somehow, someway, still had the ability to manipulate the inner workings of the VE, at least in some respects.

Of course, it wasn’t only Albatross’ unseen hand guiding the system. The people were up in arms against Wraith squad. Instead of wanted pictures for Albatross, vidscreens and holonews channels broadcasted hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute coverage of the case against the Wraiths. Their faces were plastered on every screen, their images known by every Imperial citizen even remotely in contact with any news outlet for the past two weeks. Albatross, meanwhile, made a grand escape, dodging the Imperials sent after him as easily as he had the Wraiths before. With the amount of influence he showed over the Wraith lawsuit, it wasn’t surprising that he’d managed to outwit and outrun every Imperial action taken against him since Serrell. In fact, Serrell had been the last place Albatrosss’ and the Imperial’s ships had been close enough to even exchange fire.




Weeks dragged into months, and Albatross started to become impatient. The longer the lawsuit dragged on, the more likely it was that the Wraiths would find a some shred of evidence to prove their innocence. He knew this and he knew he had to end it, some way, some how, before that could happen. It was then that Albatross made his first mistake.

It was day 243 of the Galactic Standard Calendar, three months since the Wraiths incarceration, at four-thirty in the morning. The Wraiths were in their cells, and guardsman Renan was at his post, nervously tapping his stylus on the edge of the desk. Any moment now. That was what he’d been told, right? He went over the plan again anyway, just to be sure. It was the fourteenth time he’d reviewed the plan in the last two hours.

Poison, a small does, had been delivered inside the meals to the squad today. Not enough to kill, but enough to make them pretty ill. If they had any sense at all, they’d call for the guard after they started regurgitating. And he would walk in and shoot them. He could claim self-defense or somesort; the first had attacked Renan while he was attending to him and the rest had gone beserk. He’d been told that, just today the security cameras had been taken offline for repairs. No one would know at all what had really happened.

Or so he’d been told. Did it really seem plausible that all six of them had went beserk? Did he really need to...kill...all of them? He thought for a moment. No, his worries were unfounded. They had promised he’d be safe, right? And they sure had promised a lot of money, too. On the salary he had, Renan couldn’t afford not to take the deal.

“...urgh...guuard...” came a weakened cry. It echoed down the hall and caused Renan to jump. Time to decide. He picked up his carbine, stared at it for a second, and then headed off. He flicked the safety off as he approached the cell. For a second he had the distinct feeling of being watched. Before opening the cell, he went around and checked on the others. Everyone was asleep. No one was watching him.  Still... He keyed the entry to the cell, put in his finger into the reader and swiped his card. The cell door slid open quietly, allowing Renan to scoot in quickly out of the uncomfortable air of the hall. He breathed a little better and then focused on the problem at hand.

The man in question was lying on his bed, facing the wall, the blanket wrapped tightly around him. He groaned again. Renan didn’t give him a second longer, whipping up his gun and firing three times into the body. The room was still. Slowly, Renan approached the bed, whipping back the covers and finding...pillows? They were torn and burnt from where Renan’s shots had seared them. If there were pillows there, though, then where...

A shadow unfurled itself from the darkness underneath the cot and pounced upon the surprised Renan with lightning speed. The first kick brought him down on his back, the second broke his leg at the knee, and the third nearly caved in his skull. It all took place faster than Renan could cry out or speak at all. He gurgled something incoherently, blood frothing from the mouth. Another swift kick to the head silenced him.

His attacker worked quickly. He stripped the body down; keycards, identification, ammunition, credits. All of it. Lastly he picked up the carbine and dragged the bloodied body out of the still open cell door. This point was crucial. If anyone walked in now, and happened to see anything, it was all over. They’d all be as good as dead. Luckily for them, no one did.

Renan’s attacker placed Renan’s finger on each door and slid the card through, opening the other five cells. He was met with groggy people and cries of astonishment. He gave each one the choice of staying, knowing that, they’d probably be dead within the week by assassin or otherwise, or to break out. No one stayed behind.

They took two blasters out of Renan’s office, as well as a copy of Renan’s finger print on a piece of clear adhesive and made their way out of the quiet building. So far nothing had happened, but it wasn’t bound to stay that way for long. As they passed through the deserted halls, they noticed that all the security cameras seemed to be off. Luck was once again on their side. Their escape had gone largely unnoticed it seemed.

Two floors up, in the belly of the prisoner complex, they met their first guards. Just two of them, patrolling the hall. They dispatched them quickly, stripping down the stormtrooper armor and arming themselves a bit more. The two white-clad members of their breakout group took point, being less likely to be shot at than any of the others.

Using Renan’s clearance, the six of them made it to the roof. There was a transport there, just a small police speeder. They hopped inside, hotwired it as quickly as they could, and blasted off into the Tadath night sky. They were immediately hailed by the jail’s air traffic controller. He was asking for clearance codes. They searched through Renan’s possession’s, found nothing, and ignored the comm. It would probably get them in trouble later, but that didn’t matter.

In the back, Renan’s attacker was just starting to wipe the blood off his boots. One of the others approached him.

“How’re you doing?” he asked quietly. “Arnaut?”

Arnaut looked up. He seemed...dazed. His eyes were glazed over, as if he wasn’t paying attention, even though Kanderin knew he was looking right at him.

“Fine, fine,” Arnaut said, flexing his hand and letting his towel drop to the floor. “Just...bewildered. That it came to this.”

“You knew he was bound to try and come for us sooner or later,” Kanderin said sympathetically.

“No, no, not that. Breaking out. We’re on the run now, you know. We won’t be able to go back. Possibly forever.” Arnaut’s eyes were dead serious, unflinching. Kanderin was silent for a long time.

“I know,” he whispered, more to himself than Arnaut.

“Good tip,” Arnaut said, cutting through the uneasiness. “On the poison, I mean. I’d probably be dead now if not for that.”

“Hey, hey! You’re the one who decided to hide under your bed and lure the guard in, not me. I just happen to know a bit about poisons, especially therine. The minty aftertaste gave it away; whoever picked their poisons isn’t living up to his paycheck!” They laughed, but it was hollow and short-lived.

“So...what now?” Kanderin asked, in more hushed tones.

“We run,” Arnaut replied, “And we find Albatross.”

OOC:

No personal gear on this story. We have six E-11 blasters (one in the ship, one from Renan, 2 from the office, 2 from the stormtroopers) one light helmet, one light breastplate, two sets of stormtrooper armor, roughly 2-3 clips each for the blasters, and maybe 50-60 ish credits. That's it for the entire squad. We're on the run. First order of business is finding a way off planet, avoiding planetary officials at all costs (the ship we're in is marked, too easy to track, and not meant for space flight) So...there's the story. Let's have fun with it.

Oh yeah, RK is in one of the stormtrooper outfits. The other one is whoever writes it up in the post first.

He still wasn't sure how anyone had managed to get themselves into a talkative mood. They had just broken out of a prison, and lesser men had been executed for such a thing. But overall, it was a very small additional sentence on top of their other record. So far they had acts of terrorism, murder of Derrond squad, mass genocide of an entire planet, and destruction of an entire planet. Breaking out of a prison was hardly worth mentioning really.

On top of that, they had no ideas on where they were even going. They had to find Villman, that was simple enough, if only a few hundred planets weren't in the way. Not to mention it'd be impossible to get close to him without being spotted. It was impossible not getting spotted at all, what with their faces having plastered the news for so long. Things had gone a bit quiet recently, and in that time Kanderin had developed quite a decent amout of stubble, but hardly enough to make him look different. Either way, he wasn't shaving it off.

Those weren't the things to let a squad know their ASL were thinking though, so he put on a brave face. He smiled at anyone that glanced towards him, that 'I know something you don't know' smile that hid the fact he didn't have a clue. He even found time to help Jenn scour the cockpit for anything of use. It was more successful than they expected it to be, finding another two light pistols and a vibroblade.

Eventually the silence of the situation got people falling off to sleep. After a few hours only Kanderin was left awake, so he wandered to the cockpit and took a seat alongside Arnaut. For some reason he was stood up, trying to look underneath the cockpit for some sort of clue on what to do.

"So, where first?" Kanderin yawned, putting his feet up on one of the control panels.

"I haven't a clue, I was hoping for a giant arrow pointing in the right direction, but no luck"

"Ok, enough of the sarcasm"

Arnaut grinned and pressed a few buttons to his left.

Jenny held on as they kept escaping the police through the traffic, while Kand suggested as they flew around to find a parking lot with an empty speeder:

    “Arnaut, we should try to find help, like Jenny’s friend, Leia, she has a ship.” Jenny quickly added to Kanderin’s suggestion, sounding hopeful and looking at Arnaut, who was bewildered with the suggestions:

    “And my lover Melke works in the intelligence center, he must have sifted to something related to the Serrel case.”

    “If we’re going to involve outside help, let’s make sure that they’ll be ready to face charges like helping a claimed-to-be fugitive, because we haven’t been proven innocent yet.” Arnaut said at last, Jenny hearing unsure in his voice, she responded, with a calmful eye:

    “Relax, Arnaut, we have been through the same bloody conspiracy with my parents and her parents’ murder, Albatross is on the list, although this is something we just learned. The guy’s sly as a snake for sure, he’s gotten away several times with this kind of planet conspiracy or conspiracy even in the Senate, involving murder, according to recent talks with Leia, she’s learned that this guy’s got quite the collection of people wanting her dead, we can contact them and have quite the killing party. Ella even wants her dead; she’s bound to have something on him.” Arnaut quickly stopped her before she reached underneath her armor to get the file on Albatross that she got from Leia in their last meeting escaping Serrel, and replyed firmly:

    “Jenny, we don’t even have a comlink, the whole planet is basically after us and you want us to find your Citizen Kane, my god… what a bold decision,look what we have on our ass. Damn, I wish I hadn’t chosen a police speeder, they track those things very easily.” Just as Arnaut finished, Jenny saw what the whole squad feared, an entire field of police car surrounding them with no escape in sight except down into the traffic below, which Arnaut quickly took, after letting the police come closer slowly with a sign of surrender, and Jenny felt it will quickly turn into another car chase, so she clicked in her selt belt and hanged on as Arnaut twisted upward and turned as soon as they’ve mixed in the crowd, the police shooting again at them from behind, thinking they were only crooks and not claimed-to-be terrorists.

    “Why do I always fear we’ll get into this kind of position of being hunted?” Jenny heard Arnaut mutter as they turned another corner to an abandoned alley and found an empty speeder right there waiting for them, painted light blue, fitted with a legal license and a kinky PU keychain with the silver key inserted into the ignition.

    “I don’t think it’s a good idea to use that speeder, someone might have placed that speeder there on purpose to blow us up when we start the speeder.” Jenny warned but Arnaut responded by jumping inside and starting it up with the silver key, which didn’t cause the speeder to blow up. Jenny then added: “Well, at least whoever planted this here wanted us alive.” But she already knew that it was Leia who prepared this, knowing that they would get caught as soon as they went back to the imperial ship, so she quickly reminded Jenny that she’ll be there to help even if she can’t be there in person.

    “Well, worries aside, let’s ride to find a ship out of here.” Arnaut said as he took the light blue speeder forward up into the sky, causing the other police speeders to collide into the stolen police speeder that was placed on its side neatly, arousing a huge explosion that shook the speeder a little as they straightened upright.

OOC:

Edit: Alright, thought I would add a little help, here's a link to the ship that I say we are sneaking on to: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/VCX-350_light_freighter

RK was sore all over from the impact. It wasn’t one of the worst landings he had taken, but it was up there near the top. He struggle out of the hunk of metal and got out of the stormtrooper armor.  The feeling of insecurity fell over him as soon as he took the helmet off. this is not what I signed up for…

They walked towards the clothing shop that Arnaut had printed out; First order of business, get some new clothes by any means necessary, in this case that would be stealing.  They entered the store. RK had his blaster up and ready to shoot in case the cashier decided to pull a stunt. He looked around, surprisingly nobody was around; It was weird, the doors were unlocked, but nobody was around.

“This might be the easiest heist ever.” Kanderin exclaimed, taking a step forward.

“Don’t be so sure, keep you eyes open, but hurry.” Arnaut was already taking a couple of shirts off the rack.

RK walked toward a rack with some jackets. This wasn't the time to be picky, they needed to move fast. He grabbed a brown leather jacket and then moved back to the checkout line.  It was still odd that nobody was around. Maybe there in the storage area, but why haven't they come out yet, and shouldn't they have... His thoughts where interrupted by Jennabelle who had gotten up and was slowly walking back to where RK was standing.

“Ummm, I think someone knows where here.” She said, keeping her blaster level with the door.

Arnaut, Kanderin, and RK looked over at the same time. They realized what Jenny had seen; Cops.

“Alright, where going to have to work with what we have here, let's move.” Arnaut led them out the back. RK took up the rear, knocking the register over, two racks and shooting a couple holes in the window. I hope that looks like a normal robbery.
They continued running towards the spaceport. Arnaut handed off clothes to each of the members to carry, once they got on a ship they could rummage through what they had gathered.
They finally reached the space port, it was brightly lit; Cruisers and Freighters were parked all across the landing area.Holy...How are we going to pick a ride?

Kanderin and Arnaut where discussing something. RK realized that they had figured out where to go, where they were pointing however, didn't look very appealing.

“Listen up, we are getting on that freighter, once inside we will all find a place to hide. If necessary we will use force to keep our presence a secret.”Arnaut looked as if he wasn't sure this was going to work.

RK followed the rest of the squad. If they were spotted, they would be sent back to their respective prison cells.
They continued to weave through the boxes and other freighters and cruisers. RK kept his blaster trained on anyone that was within shooting range just in case the unlucky soul saw them. So far, So good

They finally made it to the freighter; RK knew this make, it was a VCX-350 Light Freighter, His dad had owned one a while back. “Alright, let's get on.” Kanderin said. He entered into the freighter through the cargo section, helping anyone up that needed it, as well as taking the clothes from Arnaut. RK was the last one up.

Kanderin threw  the clothes down he was carrying “Okay, let's get out of these prison outfits and find somewhere to hide in here.” RK walked up to the pile of clothes picking up a black pair of cargo pants, a black belt, a pair of mercenary boots and a light tan shirt. He walked away from the rest of the group to find a place to change.

Once changed he picked up the brown leather coat, throwing it on. ah, this is better, much better.

“Any idea where this things going?” D'har asked.

“hmmm, I don't know if this is any indication , but this crate says, Corellia.” Jennabelle was pointing to a box.

“Well, then were going to Corellia.”

Before Arnaut's Post

Jenny changed into her new clothes, which were a pair of running shoes and white socks, a pair of blue jeans, and a pink tank top with a picture of a rock band on there. She thought back to the time when she had to give up her stormtrooper outfit, which Arnaut thought might protect her in case they ran into a fight, although it only brought her quite the headache when they crash-landed on the street.

Jenny looked at the cargo around her, which were luggages of probably clothes, jewelry, washing utensils, and other personal processions. She hoped they wouldn't rock around and smash their heads or this wouldn't end pretty.

Arnaut interrupted Jenny's thoughts and questioned her with a curious look on his face, as other members of the squad, especially Kand, listened in:

"Hey Jenny, mind telling us how Leia found out about Serrel?"

"She was bound to. That virus, which turns you against your friends for your fears for them, is a curse of her own family even before you met it, it was produced in the dry desert where it's most easily able to kindle the untrustworthy feeling in others for their cruelty to you, especially the Tusken Raiders and the Toydarians. The name has been forgotten as it kill those who know of it. That was the reason Leia escaped her homeland, Tatooine, and went to Euceron, where the virus isn't able grasp its nasty claws." Jenny swallowed hard before continuing to this next part, which even for her was a pain:

"Albatross saved the last of it for Leia's parents, for them to turn on each other and unleash each other's discontentment, not knowing she would fight back and saving it for Serrel, which she found out after she left her beloved bar for a while in search of the virus' whereabouts. She asked to make her league, The Pacific Order, an ally of the Empire officially, from the day her ancestors started to strive for peace, which my family, my lover's family was all a part of. I don't wish to make this a mystery, especially to you,  Arnaut."

"And, also me, Jenny, I had once been affected by the virus, but I'm better now." Kand replyed slowly as Jenny saw a gloomy look on his face, especially in those eyes.

Kand, is there something you're not telling me, is there, someone you lost over the virus? Jenny thought questionably as Arnaut stared into space, lost in thought.

-----During Arnaut's post--------

Jenny alerted herself as RK spoke inventory had come to check things out and hid with RK behind a row of luggage in the back of the cargo section of the freighter, taking out her E-11 rifle and checking it silently to make sure it was locked and loaded in case a guard came up to their position. She didn't get the chance to kill, but she probably will soon.

Arnaut took watch as Jenny prepared to sleep, as everyone slowly got to sleep, Jenny pretended to sleep but tried to peek at what Arnaut was thinking through his eyes, which lit up after a couple minutes of thinking.

Good job, Arnaut, you'll do us proud. Jenny remarked him in her mind as thoughts of Leia's story carried her into dreamland.

Customs officials. Two words that, while ordinary for any spaceport frequenter, now had the ability to strike fear more surely into the Wraiths hearts than if Albatross had appeared directly in front of them.

“Crap,” Arnaut murmured. The landing dock was open to the air, circular, and filled with crates. Customs officers patrolled the mountains of metal, waving batons and scribbling on datapads, stamping various crates and shaking their head at others. A small army of spaceport workers, ready to uncover the stowaway Wraiths at any moment. This would not be easy.

A trio of men passed a few feet away from the freighter, chatting lightly. As soon as they were past, Arnaut motioned the squad forward. They jumped down, moving quickly from the ship to the ground, and darted behind a long, tall row of black crates. RK, carrying the two duffels, came up last. He started pulling out some of the rifles, which they’d hidden in the two bags. Arnaut stopped him.

“We’re not here to make a scene,” he said calmly, but firmly. He reached over and pushed the exposed barrel of one of the rifles down into the bag. RK nodded, if a bit reluctantly.  Arnaut moved them forward, keeping along the wall of crates.

A man went passed, right above their heads. They ducked low and stilled their breathing. He kept walking, right on past. Arnaut had begun to creep forward again, when the man turned. Arnaut had to keep himself from crying out as he looked at him. The man turned again and left, leaving many questions unanswered in Arnaut’s mind.

He’d seen that man before. Somewhere, somehow. He racked his mind, thinking back. He was related to Albatross somehow, he knew that much. He’d seen him with Albatross somewhere, or doing something with Albatross, or...something. Where had he seen him, where had he...the Imperial palace! Right before Albatross had bombed Serrell, the man had been in the video, standing behind Albatross. One of Albatross’ generals? A simple lackey? What was he doing here?

“Change of plans,” Arnaut said, turning the squad around.

They followed the man, trailing behind him, dodging customs officials as they went, all the way to the other end of the hangar. It was no easy business, trying to keep him in their sights while simultaneously staying out of view. Finally they stopped, crouching behind a low retaining wall over looking a loading ramp that the man had moved down into. With another row of crates at his back, Arnaut and the squad were somewhat out of view. Hopefully the man didn’t decide to look up and no one got too close.

The man stopped, looked down at his chron, and then looked up impatiently. Not at Arnaut, thankfully. He seemed...uncomfortable, out of place. Arnaut noticed that his hand kept going down to his hip, where he would usually carry a holster. There was none now, and it seemed to agitate the man. Arnaut did notice that he was carrying a pistol in his boot and had at least one knife strapped to his shoulder, almost, but not quite hidden by the man’s jacket. Much good those would do him if it came to a fight.

The man looked up suddenly, this time directly at Arnaut, who was busy peeking over the wall. No, not at...beyond. Arnaut ducked down, just as another man came walking nonchalantly past the row of crates behind him. Arnaut pressed himself low to the ground and motioned for silence as the other man passed by. His jet black hair was greased back, and he had a sort of hunch to his shoulders. Combined with his narrow, angular face and piercing green eyes, barely glimpses from under the man’s wide-brimmed hat, Arnaut got the impression of a snake. Which he probably was if he, like Arnaut had already surmised, was here to meet with one of Albatross’ higher-ups.

Arnaut saw them briefly exchange a few curt words before disappearing into a door toward the back of the lower area.

“Frig,” Arnaut muttered. “Alright, here’s how—"

“What are you all doing here!?” Everyone jumped; they’d been so focused on the two men that they’d completely forgotten to watch their back.  One of the employees was looming over them, datapad in one hand and a frown on his face. “You aren’t supposed to be back here!” Uh-oh. Time to lie.

“Y’know what! I guess we aren’t. Say, ‘seen the three o’clock to Coruscant anywhere, me an’ my friends just got a little lost, this being such a large spaceport and all.” Arnaut stood up, trying to sound as jovial as possible.

“Well, sir, I—”

“What’s with you? What’s with any of the help around here? Can’t even point a few simple travellers in the right direction! You’re lucky I don’t file a complaint!”

“Sir, if—”

“Y’know, we didn’t want to ride any of your cheap shuttles anyway. I think we’re done here. No, no, don’t try and say anything to change our minds. We’re leaving, now!” And with that the Wraiths turned toward the nearest door, pushed out, courteously excusing themselves to the surprised guard on duty there and made their way into the streets of Coronet, Corellia’s capitol.

Behind them, the customs agent came running out the door, startling the guard a second time. Arnaut looked back and briefly caught a glimpse of the agent talking fiercely with the guard, jabbing fingers in the Wraiths’ direction. The guard nodded and began to walk after them.

“Hey! You all!” Passer-by’s in the large crowded looked between the guard and the men he was pointing at, all heads down walking in an ever increasing pace away.

“On three, we run for it. Get to that alleyway up ahead and don’t stop running until you’re in the crowd on the other side. Heads down, don’t let anyone get an ID on you. We’ll meet up at that hotel two streets down, the taller one. Don’t be late.” Everyone around Arnaut grunted in assent.

“One, two...” The guard was jogging now, still shouting at them. The crowd was starting to part around them, sensing that they could be dangerous. “Three!” As one they broke the cover of the crowd and sprinted for the alleyway. The guard was running now, for all his worth, after the six men. They pushed civilians out of their way, causing the crowd to stream away from them. Right into the guard. He pushed through, muttering curses and yelling fruitlessly for the crowd to make way. Finally, fed up, he snatched out his pistol and fired into the air twice. Now the crowd was really in a panic, running from the men and the guard.

Once in the alleyway, still running, RK unzipped the bag and tossed each of them a carbine. They hid them under their large coats. The guard entered behind them, ten seconds later, and opened fire. A solid slug round embedded itself in the brick next to Arnaut’s head, sending a tuft of smoke wafting into the air. Two more kicked up small flurries of stone shards off the pavement. Jenny and Kanderin, at the front of the group, turned left down a smaller side alley. RK, after finishing zipping up the bags, threw himself down the same alley, except to the right. Hartigan pushed past a butcher, coming out the back of his shop to dump some refuse into the alleyway, and sprinted into the kitchen, followed closely by D’har. That left Arnaut, who was at the back of the group, alone in the alleyway with the guard. Arnaut found another side alley to the left, darted in and immediately turned right, shouldering his way through a door and into an apartment complex.

A woman screamed, dropping her laundry load onto the floor as Arnaut pushed past her and into the main part of the complex. Looking around, he had a choice between the crowded lobby, from which he might be able to make it to the outside, but only after being seen by about twenty people, or the stairs. He took the stairs, two steps at a time, bounding upwards through the building. He heard the woman scream a second time and the guard’s voice; he was being followed.

Up and up he went, spiraling toward the top. He stopped, fired a few warning shots down the length of the stairway, in he guard’s direction, just to make him put his head down. A few seconds of time, that was all. Arnaut kept running. Floor twenty came and went, floor thirty. His legs were burning, his breathing was ragged and drawn; he had to find a place to stop.

On flour thirty-three, he turned suddenly off the stairwell, sprinting past a man just opening his door to his apartment. He looked around, ignoring the shouts of the man. Couch, vid-screen...window! He ran over, and opened it looking out toward the building across from him and the alley so far, far below.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The man yelled. Then he noticed the guard huffing up the stairs, gun in hand.

He looked over at Arnaut with an undecipherable stare.

“Closet now. You’ll never make it.” Arnaut looked back, then looked at the jump. It was long, nearly impossible, but maybe...

“Get in there now!”  Arnaut raised his weapon and made his way to the closet, closing it behind him. Just before he did, Arnaut saw the man pull out a pistol and shoot out the window of the other building. The window Arnaut would’ve had to jump through had he made the jump. Arnaut shut the door all the way, tucking himself into the back corner amidst jackets and shirts, and checked the clip on his E-11. Worse came to worse, he could blast his way out of this. He didn’t know what to make of the man, but something told Arnaut to trust him. It was either that or end up a small splatter on the alley below.

“D-did a man just...just run through here?” The guard asked, finally making his way into the room.

“H-he just came in and then jumped out the window!” Arnaut’s newfound savior lied. “I...I tried to sh-shot him, but it was no good!” The angry guard gave a curse and rushed over to the window. He peered down to the alley below, and then to the window. Probably deciding his couldn’t make the jump, he cursed again and went storming from the room. Just before he did, he looked back, as if he’d thought of something. But he shook his head and continued out.

“You can come out now.” The man said. Arnaut did so, his carbine held out in front of him, his finger on the trigger.

“Why? Why did you help me?” Arnaut asked, gun unwavering. The man didn’t seem concerned by the blaster in front of his face. In fact, he seemed rather amused, his mouth curving into a small smile. He seemed about Arnaut’s age, maybe a bit younger, with lightish-brown hair and dark green eyes nothing like the other man Arnaut had seen today. Too many men, all without names. This was getting confusing.

“Because, like you, I’m being hunted. Not visibly, and the authorities may not even know it’s me yet, but, for the past three weeks, I’ve been disrupting---well, I don’t think you need to know that right now.”

Arnaut lifted the gun a little higher.

“Are you Imperial?” The man’s eyes widened a bit and he seem taken aback.

“What’s it to you?” he replied, eyes narrowing. Arnaut raised the gun even higher, not saying anything. “Alright, look, I see that you’ve got a gun. You see that I’ve got a pistol at my side, obviously. Let’s not kill each other over this. Now, should I possibly, hypothetically be related to the Empire...what’s it to you?”

“Vast Empire Army, or at least formerly. Wraith squad.”

“You have any papers to back that up?” the man said.

“Therein lies the problem. You see...we’re not exactly on good terms with the Vast Empire’s police forces right now.”

“So you’re traitors!” the man said, swinging up his pistol to aim at Arnaut. Arnaut stepped back but didn’t fire.

“No, no! Well, yes, technically, but we were framed. By a man named Albatross.”

“Albatross?” the man inquired.

“You know him?” Arnaut asked, surprised. The man nodded, put down his gun, and went over to a table on the far end of the room. Pushing it aside, he opened up a small cavity in the wall revealing all sorts of monitors and papers. He pulled up a few printouts and handed them to Arnaut. They appeared to be communications between NR officials.

“They’ve been mentioning him nonstop for the past two months. Some sort of pirate, or mercenary, with a ton of resources. Seems like they were looking to hire him a while back, but deciding against it after something called the...” he skimmed one of the sheets. “S-incident.” S for Serrell, Arnaut thought. So the New Republic populace was being kept in the dark about that, eh? All for the better.

“Anyway, they’re looking to set up another deal, it seems. That’s the only reason I’m still here. Two of the others of my team were killed trying to get in, to stop the first meeting between them. We’d had leads pointing to Albatross for a number of things, not least of which being his pirating activity against some of our vulnerable shipping lanes. After the first deal went south, after the ‘S-Incident’, I was going to pull out when I got wind of this second deal. So here I am, still tracking them.”

“Any you got all this? By yourself? How?” Arnaut asked incredulously, gesturing at the wide array of papers and datapads and screens the man had tucked away in his wall.

“Communications technician, trained by only the best of the Vast Imperial army,” he replied, sporting a smug grin.

“Of all the rooms I could’ve forced entry into,” Arnaut murmured, still gazing at the screens. He looked around at the man. “You got a name, comm techie?” he asked.

“Ron,” the man replied. “Ron-Goron.”

OOC:

Welcome Ron to the squad! His aparment thingy will serve as an impormptu base of operations. We'll all meet at the hotel first, the tall one, so, y'know, write about being introduced to him and then heading back to his place. Or something. Just...just post.

Oh, and, Ron, if you feel anything needs to be changed, due to personality conflicts with the character or something, shoot me a PM or find me on IRC. I had to take some creative liberties seeing as how I only had your bio as source material.

UPDATE: Hrm, this post is a bit lengthy. Sorry if I got carried away...

"Renegade Wraith squad." Thought Ron to himself. "Well that's nothing out of the ordinary, I know more people in trouble with the law than i do people who are in with the law..." This made Ron laugh a little.  He picked up a white duffle-bag with the label CorpTech on it. 

"From basic." he explained.  Ron quickly stuffed papers and full datapads, loading them into an organized unit within the duffle bag.  He pulled out two long wires and plugged them into several datapads, his fingers flying on one larger, newer datapad that he held in his hands. 

Several noises issued forth from the large datapad, until Ron put it into the dufflebag with the rest of the valuable information.  After that, he piled all the other datapads and papers into a pile. 

"Destroying them?  Don't you want to save them?" said Arnaut curiously.

"Most of these are old." said Ron as he fumbled in the cabinets above his kitchen stove.  He suddenly pulled out an old liquor bottle, which he promptly dumped all over the papers. "The papers will burn quickly." said Ron "But the datapads wont burn, so I had to wipe their memories." 

Arnaut picked up one of the datapads himself and inspected it.  He pressed a small power button near the bottom, at which the screen promptly flashed on with the message: "I miss you baby, please come back... I want you, please don't leave me..."

"Nice message." Arnaut said as he threw it back into the pile.

"Ex girlfriend." Ron replied simply.  He dropped the last of the burning papers into the sink, and picked up the duffle bag. 

***

Ron had a lot on his mind.  Three weeks ago, before he had the lead on Albatross, he was fresh out of basic and was put right on a case... it was very small, language decoding.  It wasn't a great job, but it was a job none-the-less, and in a few days Ron broke the codes for the main alphabet; verbs, nouns, conjugates; and sentence structure.  Basically he had completely decrypted it.  After repeating this several times, and becoming board of all the drug, murder, and sex talk within the decrypted letters, Ron presented them to his authorities, who in turn discredited him for his work claiming "it was not possible due to his time constraints." "Wasn't the first time." thought Ron glumly. 

Ron was then put on the impossible task of decrypting incoming "pirate codes", a task which had never been fully completed before due to the level of difficulty.  "Pirate codes", he was told, were near impossible to break due to the sophistication of their security systematics, which bar codes the entire message.  If a computer did not have the "bar code" password, it read the entire message in numbers randomized from 1-99, excluding of course the number zero.

So Ron sat day after day after day trying to "break" the codes, often sleeping or dozing off in his chair, and waiting for the day to end.  This continued for a week, until one day he noticed a several different things about the code.  For one, it was not a random number generator that created the numbers, for there was a clear pattern of ranked numbers from 1-9 without periods or breaks.  Secondly the beginning of every line on his monitor was a nine number digit with one letter. 

This gave him the lead he needed to break the code, which explained why there was a break in the stream of random numbers.  Apparently (from what he read in the streaming codes) a great catastrophe had caused several security systems to crash.  This left the codes open for approximately 75 minutes (until the server would reboot itself).  Ron only needed 35 minutes, until he had received the new "bar code" password, which allowed him to plug into the system. And he was surprised to find, when he accessed the administration panel, that it was of Imperial origin.

Ron began saving all the streaming information on datapads and paper charts, receiving boundless information on several things he didn't understand such as the word "Albatross." and "Serrell" (two words that were repeated numerously in all the codes).

Ron would have continued hacking into the administration and stealing pirate and imperial information until one day he discovered that he had a "tag" on his computer, which meant that could be monitored at any time by a root administrator.  Ron didn't take the chance of being caught digging in secret imperial affairs, so he packed up and left, hiding himself in an "untagged" personal computer where he could continue his work.

The day he moved in was three days prior to when Arnaut broke into his room, and in those three days he had barely managed to break into the system, and set up an "invisible" identity so as to escape detection... he hoped that he wasn't noticed when he used the "tagged" computer, or else he knew he would be gone in the next few days.

***

Ron's mind snapped back into the present, for now, as one of the data pads fell out of the duffle bag.  It skittered across the floor into another room.  Ron spent the next ten minutes trying to find it, when he found it in the hands of a stranger.

"Drop it." Ron said, as he raised his pistol.

Arnaut grinned as he walked in the room as he said, "I see you've met Ron."

"Yeah." replied the other man.

"Wait... you know this guy?" said Ron.  Arnaut nodded his head, and Ron promptly put down the gun and said with a grin,

"Glad to meet you, I'm Ron-Goron, underground communications technician."

"RK." the man replied.  "You don't keep a mood for long do you?"

"Not if I can help it." grinned Ron.

OOC:

Thanks for the intro Arnaut, and as for the characterization and length, no problem for either, I took some liberties as well based on the fact that i've never RPd with you guys for that long.  Well here goes... i hope the information i gave was legit enough... i don't have a grasp of the situation yet so...

“On second thought, RK, get down to that hotel and get everyone back here,” Arnaut commanded quickly, remembering that the rest of the squad would be gathering about this time. RK sighed, pulling himself off the couch with great difficulty, and trudged toward the door. “And hurry!” Arnaut snapped, sending RK outside and down the stairs quickly. Arnaut directed his attention toward Ron, who had made it back upstairs.

“You have any back-up hideouts? Rented apartments, any other places that the local police forces won’t know about because they’d just chased a guy through it? We’ll probably need to move tonight, if not sooner.”

“There’s one near the lit-lane.”

“Lit-lane?”

“Oh yeah, brightest area of town, or so they claim. Casinos, cantinas, clubs...the works,”

Arnaut looked at D’har slyly. D’har returned the stare, with a slight smile on his lips.

“Could you, by chance, run into, say, a black market dealer down there?” Arnaut asked innocently, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

“Possibly,” Ron said, smiling as well.

* * *

Arnaut sat at the cantina table, fingers pyramided, and jaded glossy look on his face. His Corellian ale sat untouched, filled to the brim. Arnaut had ordered three like it already, to keep the bar keeper happy and unsuspicious of why a man would choose the back-most corner of the cantina and not drink. Tabac smoke wafted through the air, clouding the cantina in a dim haze. Arnaut tried to keep out of it as best as possible, but it was everywhere. It did provide a good deal of privacy, though. Maybe that’s why this cantina was chosen.

Two days of hunting. Two days of hunting, and only two leads to show for it. RK, Ron, and D’har were looking up the other one, a guy off the market street that said he knew some arms dealers across town. They were scheduled to meet in, oh...thirty-five minutes, Arnaut observed, looking down at his wrist-chron. Hopefully one of them would lead somewhere.

Arnaut’s contact was supposed to have been in the bar twelve minutes ago. He had some large quantities of reedug narcotics he wanted to dump fast. It just so happened that a few of the freighters Albatross had attacked had been en route from the Anoat Sector, laden with said drug. It was a better lead than they were hoping for, just as long as it came through.

As if on cue, a man appeared out of the haze suddenly at Arnaut’s side and took a seat. He was a large man, taller than Arnaut by a head. His bare scalp was covered in tatoos as well as his tree trunk-like arms. He stared at Arnaut with a general air of impassiveness before calmly taking the drink away from Arnaut. He sniffed it first, finally took a sip, and then drank the whole thing in one gulp.

“You’re in the right place at the right time with the right drink, so for now I’ll assume you’re the person I came to meet,” the man said. Arnaut only nodded, keeping his cool. A find sheen of perspiration appeared on his brow though. If things went south here, Arnaut probably wouldn’t leave alive. He should’ve accepted back up, even though the man had told him to come alone. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Arnaut kept his cool, but on the inside he was freaking out. Slowly he rested his hand on his E-11, hidden in his jacket under the table. The man must’ve noticed the movement because he quickly spoke up.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man warned. Arnaut hadn’t realized it, but the man was wearing a wrist-blaster. Arnaut wouldn’t even have a chance to pull his gun before he’d be a smoking corpse. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Let’s move before discussing anything further,” the man said.

“No thanks,” Arnaut replied, leaning back, “I’d prefer to do it right here.”

“Alright, but you might have to fess up to the two CorSec officers over there.” He nodded to a table to the right a bit. Arnaut confirmed this with a half glance. They would definitely notice something was up, and then he’d be in some serious trouble. But he could also be in trouble if he went out on the streets alone with this guy. Necessary risk, he decided. He had to earn the man’s trust sometime.

“Let’s go,” Arnaut grudgingly said.

They walked out of the cantina, two minutes apart and taking separate directions.  You could never be too cautious when it came to this stuff it seemed. Rightly so. Arnaut could feel the CorSec officers' eyes on him the entire way. Arnaut walked for five meters, turned back as if he’d forgotten something, walked past the cantina and took a right into the first alley. Shadows cloaked the entire length of it in darkness, and even the neon glare of lit-lane didn’t penetrate it. Arnaut hesitated before going in, double-checked to make sure he had all his knives, and then walked in. Just a few steps in and he felt the cold, hard barrel of a muzzle at the back of his head.

“Hands where I can see them,” a voice said. It sounded like the man from the bar, but Arnaut wasn’t sure. Considering the situation, he really had no choice. Arnaut did as he was told. He had nothing valuable on him anyway, so if the whole meeting was some sort of trap, the man would be sorely disappointed.

The man patted him down for weapons, turned him around and pushed him roughly towards the wall. In the dim light, Arnaut recognized the man from the bar, holding an auto-rifle pointed at Arnaut’s head.

“You have two knives up both sleeves, one in each boot, two in your coat with an E-11. Anything else I should no about, or can we proceed?” Damn. The man was good. Arnaut shook his head. “Good. Move toward any of those spots, or just generally move in a way I don’t like, and I will shoot you. Understood?” Arnaut nodded quickly, keeping his hands spread out along the wall. He didn’t want any trouble, not from this guy. He’d only missed one weapon Arnaut had, the small, slender blade inserted into the top of his right, leather bracer. It wasn’t as good as his old blades, and nowhere the amount of weaponry he would like to have, but he comforted himself with the small advantage he’d retained.

“The dealer, let’s call him Subject R for now, sent me to find you because you expressed an interest in purchasing his wares. Is this true?” Arnaut nodded, letting the man talk for now. He was all servitude, at least for as long as the man had a blaster trained on him.

“You expressed a keen desire to set up a face to face deal, is this correct?” Arnaut nodded again.

“Do you have the necessary funds?” Arnaut nodded again.

“I’m reaching for the credit wafer,” Arnaut explained slowly, reaching carefully into his jacket. He pulled out a small chip the size of his thumb. While not necessarily worthless, the credit chip, containing over 100,000 New Republic credits, could only be accessed by Ron’s voice and fingerprint ID. It was military-grade, top of the line, and Arnaut would like to see a slicer try to hack it. It was all the credits left of the funds Ron’s team had been given upon insertion into Corellia and, as of right then, the only funds for the entire squad.

The man reached over, snatching the chip out of Arnaut’s hand. He read the print of the chip quickly and handed it back to Arnaut who slowly put it back in his jacket.

“Meeting granted. If you’ll follow me, Subject R sent a speeder for us,” the man said.

Arnaut followed, well aware of the monstrosity at his back. The shuttle was at the other end of the speeder, waiting to take them away into the depths of the city. Arnaut stepped in followed immediately by the man. The interior was dark, and the windows nearly opaque. Designed on purpose, so their clientele wouldn’t know where they were going, no doubt.

With the most subtle of motions, the speeder took off, gliding swiftly through the town and into the unknown. All Arnaut could do was wait and hope that this  speeder wasn’t carrying him to his grave.

OOC:

Alright, boys and girls, post is up! D’har (not here I assume) Ron and RK, you’re in charge of securing the other deal. That means meeting up with the guy that supposedly has the weapons for sale. If you wanted to make it interesting (wink wink) I’d make it a trap and get into a firefight, but that’s just me. I have a mini-thing for my little part right here, that’ll be summed up soon. So...don’t touch it except in mentions.

Our apartment changed, it’s now in the busy section of town. We’re all there. We have 100,000 creds, total, and we’ve bought some RUDIMENTARY gear. I have a few knives, you guys can buy some other things. No armor above chest plates, no high-tech guns. Low profile, guys and gals, means low profile. Have fun and don’t get hurt (too much)

Oh yes, police on Corellia are the CorSec. And what language is that, RK?