The Shadow Over Costa Del Sol (Open)

[Tearen Wover]

Nealaphh found a secluded space on a nearby beach, next to an outflow pipe from which filthy water steadily dripped. To a human, the cove would have smelled of rotting sea vegetation and fish, mixed with the sharp tang of sewage. Nealaphh, thankfully, lacked any sort of olfactory senses, and was unperturbed by the stench. Here, under the dull orange glow of an urban sky, Nealaphh searched through the Dataverse for any relevant information that would be able to assist it in locating either a secret way in to Coruscant, or of someone who might know. Nealaphh had considered returning to the individual known as Chip, but the god-mind did not necessarily want to lay all of its plans bare to a largely unknown individual. As such, Nealaphh submitted searches to the Dataverse, consisting of the key words 'Coruscant', 'Smuggling', 'Crime', and 'Gate'. Very little in the way of concrete information could be found; the Empire evidently had a tight grip on any information that might expose a weakness in their defenses. What Nealaphh did find, however, was an ongoing news stream of a robbery in process. A young female woman with alarmingly bright green hair sat behind a polished desk, with a vista of Coruscant in the background. She wore a bronze colored suit and a pink blouse beneath, all of which seemed to be trying to contrast against her admittedly garish hair. Nealaphh noted the background with some interest, since the cityscape appeared to be in the light of day, whereas it was night in the Vasty Deeps. This incongruity would have to be explored at a later time.

"...three primes, recently identified as Okor, Tartaros, and Galel Baraz, are currently attempting to steal an artifact known as the Crown of Blackhand. The trio of criminals, also recent participants in Dante's Abyss, are currently engaged with another group of primes intent, apparently, on apprehending them. Imperial forces have been told to stand off until the conflict between the primes has come to an end, in the hopes that the criminals will be weak enough to neutralize. We go now, live to the scene, with Ron Burgundy. Ron?"

The scene shifted to a mustached man sitting in the side of some sort of aerial vehicle, circling over the scene of the battle. The field reporter was dressed in a leather bomber jacket and a woolen white scarf. Bright orange ear protectors wrapped around his head, and they appeared to be custom made so as not to perturb the reporter's hair. The camera kept attempting to zoom in for closer views of the battle, but Mr. Burgundy continually ducked in front of the lens, despite being out of focus.

"Yes, female news correspondent, the scene is indeed...," he paused, swerving to stay in the shot, "...indeed grave. These three heavily armored men have almost utterly destroyed the main exhibit floor, which comes as a blessed relief to myself and other nacho aficionados everywhere, as the cafeteria has been left largely unscathed. The Coruscant Museum, widely renowned for its decadent food service, was also hosting an exhibit of ancient...Jack...Jack you're off of me. Jack. The camera is off center. There you go! Ancient trinkets and dead people from the Tangled Green. The thieves, whom I've dubbed Larry, Curly and Moe, are still beating the ever living snot out of their prime buddies, who I have dubbed Alvin, Simon and Theodore. Let's now take a look at the current situation. The current situation. Jack! Point the camera...at the museum! Good god! There! Geez!"

The camera then focused back on the museum, which conveniently had a large hole blown in its roof. Nealaphh watched in earnest as the three primes it had encountered in the lobby of Dante's Abyss exchanged blows with their counterparts. Their opponents seemed competent, but based on the relative state of the fighters, seniority was winning out. All at once, the draconian prime tore a deep gash into Okor's armor. The armored prime responded by firing some form of phosphorescent munition into his face.

"By the braided beard of Agamemnon! Alvin just spilled Moe's guts all over the museum floor, but...but Moe is still going! Oh, dear sweet Whiskey, No! Theodore has just been burnt to a crisp, like a child's marshmallow! Sweet little Theodore! Oh the primanity!"

The camera continued to stay focused on the museum fight, with the insufferable human drawing comparisons between the carnage and various forms of desecrated human sustenance non-stop. It didn't matter to the god-mind, however. What mattered was that it had found its contact for gaining entry into Coruscant. To be able to arrange such a daring endeavor in broad daylight...they had to have some form of insider knowledge.

All at once, however, Nealaphh heard an odd noise. A steady, mechanical thumping that was causing small vibrations in the water. As it gradually got louder, Nealaphh found itself momentarily blinded in the spotlight of some immense Imperial construct that was essentially a box-like cockpit mounted on two legs. Its cannons swiveled to bear themselves on the shadow, and a loud magnified voice blared over a loudspeaker.

"Prime! Remain where you are! You are under arrest for crimes against the Empire!"

It was at this point that Nealaphh noticed the seven stormtroopers arranged in a barrier formation around the AT-ST's legs. The god-mind did not need to look around to know that it was cornered. Well. Cornered for a human, maybe...