09-02-2015, 04:48 PM
"So, let me get this straight. Three trained Prime soldiers broke into a heavily guarded museum in broad daylight, stole an artifact, and the three other Primes who tried to stop them ended up killing over a dozen of our men and succesfully escaped to a lower Tier..." the man said, looking out at the sunset vista of Coruscant from the window of his office at the Coruscant Police Department headquarters. His name was Alan Price. Captain Alan Price. One did not get to become a captain of the Empire's primary law enforcement agency without due cause. For years, very little had happened in the way of notable felonies, at least on the first Tier, where such things actually mattered. It was odd that he was being bothered with such things at all.
"Yes sir." the attending dispatch chief said, standing at attention. Alan Price grit his teeth and continued to look out the window.
"And I suppose Dredd is currently out of his office?" the Captain said, tension gradually building in his authoritative baritone.
"Yes. Judge Dredd is en route to address an situation already in progress."
Of course.
Captain Price turned around slowly and rested his hands on his wide desk, glowering at the dispatch chief.
"You said three of the Primes involved with the heist are still in Coruscant?"
"Well, they technically weren't-"
"I DON'T CARE. ARE THEY IN THE CITY?" Adam roared, slapping his desk lamp into the wall to his left. The dispatch chief glanced over at the mangled heap of glass and metal before returning his wide-eyed gaze to meet Captain Prices own burning visage.
"...yes."
"Good. Hunt them down. Kill them. No arrests, no interrogations. They killed our men, and we'll return the sentiment." Price said, gathering himself and returning to his full height. The dispatch chief relaxed in response and pulled out a Datapad, scrolling through available units.
"...I have eight available patrol teams. Would you like to look them over or-"
"No. Send Delta Squad."
The chief blinked slowly.
"...sir. Delta Squad is for covert ops and infiltration. They're commandos, not law officers. We can't simply-"
"I will handle any paperwork. Just get them mustered and out the door."
"Yes sir." the dispatch chief said, quickly exiting the Captain's office. Alan breathed a long sigh. It had been like this for a few weeks now. Palpatine was more lax about the lower Tiers, but Tier 1 was his pride and joy. It couldn't be seen being demolished at will by uppity Primes and their friends. He would have only one chance to fix this...it needed to be done right...
...
"Remind me again when we became a S.W.A.T. team?" Scorch uttered, tinkering with a few settings on his blaster rifle. Delta lead looked over at him slowly. It was impossible to know Three-Eight's expression for sure, but Scorch had been working with him long enough to it held that thin-lipped grimmace indicating he should have kept his yap shut. It never worked.
"We do what we're ordered. That should be good enough." Delta lead said, turning his attention to the rest of his squad. Seven and Six-Two were both reviewing the mission specs on their helmet's monitors; an action belied by the fact that they had their hands pressed against the side of their helmets. Blinking lights whizzed past the window slits of the LAAT the squad was riding in as it passed down through the flight corridors to Tier Seven, the targets' last known location. Three-Eight was not looking forward to engaging targets on this Tier; hardly anything was documented, and it was a practical industrial labyrinth. At least they would have the logistics advantage. Scorch, also known as Four-Zero, piped up again.
"I suppose it's just as well; Sev hasn't killed anyone all day!" the demolitions expert quipped. Seven turned his head slightly, the dried, red handprint on his helmet glinting in the low light.
"Hmph. Well. Guess that'll just make me even more eager than usual." he grunted in response.
"Not possible."
This illicited a snicker from Six-Two, but nothing else. Just then a crackle came in over their comms from the cockpit of the gunship. Twelve-Twenty chimed in with her feminine yet assertive twang. She was an Endless Dunes recruit, and had replaced Four-Two as their squad's pilot after the original one had been shot down by a goddamn magic spell. The squad had been leery about her joining, at first. Not so much because she was female, but more because Four-Two and the rest of Delta Squad had known each other since they were de-tanked. She had proven herself time and again, however, but she was still technically the new kid, so she tended to get ribbing nontheless...except during missions, when she lost any sense of humor.
"Delta Lead, approaching drop zone. Orders?"
Three-Eight examined the map of the area and hits that Coruscant security had gotten on the few cameras that were installed down here.
"Sending coordinates. Let us down and then stay on station; we may need the firepower."
"Roger that. Do you want to probe first?"
Three-Eight looked over at Fixer, who shrugged. May as well.
"Affirmative. But not for long."
"Roger that."
With this, the landing doors of the LAAT wrenched open with an immense clank, revealing the twisted metal hellscape outside. Carrion and defunct structures littered the streets, and a thick haze of industrial smog obscured any real ability to see farther than a mile. Tiny, orange pinpricks of light, either from fires or soot-crusted lamps, offered the only sullen illumination.
Six-Two wasted no time in activating the mini probe-droids which promptly buzzed away from the hovering gunship, down into the streets below. Their life detection sensors would likely be the only piece of their otherwise vast data collection arsenal that would be of use down here. All they could do now was wait.
"Yes sir." the attending dispatch chief said, standing at attention. Alan Price grit his teeth and continued to look out the window.
"And I suppose Dredd is currently out of his office?" the Captain said, tension gradually building in his authoritative baritone.
"Yes. Judge Dredd is en route to address an situation already in progress."
Of course.
Captain Price turned around slowly and rested his hands on his wide desk, glowering at the dispatch chief.
"You said three of the Primes involved with the heist are still in Coruscant?"
"Well, they technically weren't-"
"I DON'T CARE. ARE THEY IN THE CITY?" Adam roared, slapping his desk lamp into the wall to his left. The dispatch chief glanced over at the mangled heap of glass and metal before returning his wide-eyed gaze to meet Captain Prices own burning visage.
"...yes."
"Good. Hunt them down. Kill them. No arrests, no interrogations. They killed our men, and we'll return the sentiment." Price said, gathering himself and returning to his full height. The dispatch chief relaxed in response and pulled out a Datapad, scrolling through available units.
"...I have eight available patrol teams. Would you like to look them over or-"
"No. Send Delta Squad."
The chief blinked slowly.
"...sir. Delta Squad is for covert ops and infiltration. They're commandos, not law officers. We can't simply-"
"I will handle any paperwork. Just get them mustered and out the door."
"Yes sir." the dispatch chief said, quickly exiting the Captain's office. Alan breathed a long sigh. It had been like this for a few weeks now. Palpatine was more lax about the lower Tiers, but Tier 1 was his pride and joy. It couldn't be seen being demolished at will by uppity Primes and their friends. He would have only one chance to fix this...it needed to be done right...
...
"Remind me again when we became a S.W.A.T. team?" Scorch uttered, tinkering with a few settings on his blaster rifle. Delta lead looked over at him slowly. It was impossible to know Three-Eight's expression for sure, but Scorch had been working with him long enough to it held that thin-lipped grimmace indicating he should have kept his yap shut. It never worked.
"We do what we're ordered. That should be good enough." Delta lead said, turning his attention to the rest of his squad. Seven and Six-Two were both reviewing the mission specs on their helmet's monitors; an action belied by the fact that they had their hands pressed against the side of their helmets. Blinking lights whizzed past the window slits of the LAAT the squad was riding in as it passed down through the flight corridors to Tier Seven, the targets' last known location. Three-Eight was not looking forward to engaging targets on this Tier; hardly anything was documented, and it was a practical industrial labyrinth. At least they would have the logistics advantage. Scorch, also known as Four-Zero, piped up again.
"I suppose it's just as well; Sev hasn't killed anyone all day!" the demolitions expert quipped. Seven turned his head slightly, the dried, red handprint on his helmet glinting in the low light.
"Hmph. Well. Guess that'll just make me even more eager than usual." he grunted in response.
"Not possible."
This illicited a snicker from Six-Two, but nothing else. Just then a crackle came in over their comms from the cockpit of the gunship. Twelve-Twenty chimed in with her feminine yet assertive twang. She was an Endless Dunes recruit, and had replaced Four-Two as their squad's pilot after the original one had been shot down by a goddamn magic spell. The squad had been leery about her joining, at first. Not so much because she was female, but more because Four-Two and the rest of Delta Squad had known each other since they were de-tanked. She had proven herself time and again, however, but she was still technically the new kid, so she tended to get ribbing nontheless...except during missions, when she lost any sense of humor.
"Delta Lead, approaching drop zone. Orders?"
Three-Eight examined the map of the area and hits that Coruscant security had gotten on the few cameras that were installed down here.
"Sending coordinates. Let us down and then stay on station; we may need the firepower."
"Roger that. Do you want to probe first?"
Three-Eight looked over at Fixer, who shrugged. May as well.
"Affirmative. But not for long."
"Roger that."
With this, the landing doors of the LAAT wrenched open with an immense clank, revealing the twisted metal hellscape outside. Carrion and defunct structures littered the streets, and a thick haze of industrial smog obscured any real ability to see farther than a mile. Tiny, orange pinpricks of light, either from fires or soot-crusted lamps, offered the only sullen illumination.
Six-Two wasted no time in activating the mini probe-droids which promptly buzzed away from the hovering gunship, down into the streets below. Their life detection sensors would likely be the only piece of their otherwise vast data collection arsenal that would be of use down here. All they could do now was wait.