01-11-2017, 10:09 PM
Representatives from seven gangs and the Rebel faction sit in a circle in an abandoned movie theater.
On the left side of the room, the Westside Coalition sits together.
Moss the elf and his lieutenants, Luci and Passionflower, representing the Westside Knife Ear Warriors.
Chirpa the Ewok and his brothers, representing what remains of the Westside Ewoks.
The hulking Klingon Koloth and his lieutenants, representing the Mighty Westside Klingons.
In the center of the ring of chairs, the obnoxious leader of the Hufflepunks has the floor, her face piercings clinking as she talks.
"So King Ladybug" she says, gesturing towards Moss "Can't even keep MY people alive, let alone his own. No disrespect," she adds, locking eyes with Moss, who looks hostile. "But Klowdy died on a mission with you and Lieutenant Perky-Tits. Yeah we got our guns," she says, acknowledging the glowing blue pistol on her hip "nobody is saying that you didn't accomplish something, but I think the orcs MIGHT have noticed. They've been hitting the streets hard as fuck, but I'm sure you've realized. Found Hopper yet?" she asks scathingly. The assembled gang leaders murmur.
Moss's silence speaks volumes.
"Didn't fucking think so," she continues. "Meanwhile, our chem supplier is dead, my first lieutenant is dead, and orcs have got every corner from here to the library locked down tight. Tell em what happened, Shadow-Kill."
Shadow-Kill stands, a blond young boy no older than ten, dressed in an outlandish mix of JCPenney and Hollywood ninja-garb. On his hip is an oversized katana. Shadow-Kill is the leader of the Death Blades, a gang of ragamuffin orphans with an interest in anime, who found that by stealing OM they could better act out their heroic playtime. His lieutenants, a boy and a girl even younger than him, have expressions of barely contained violence. Shadow-Kill clears his throat and speaks in his adolescent voice.
"Face-Puncher and Johnny R. were practicing ninja stuff on the playground by Phaser Street and Photon Avenue. That's been our playground for years," he adds, his eyes finding the floor. "So Face-Puncher, he sees a car pull up that he doesn't know. Face-Puncher you know, he has this thing," Shadow-Kill pauses. "He HAD this thing, about stranger-danger. He knew that strangers were dangerous, but he was really brave, and he wanted to protect people, so he would always want to see what strangers were up too. So Face-Puncher, he walks up to the car, and he goes 'are you bad guys, or good guys? Because we're good guys'" Shadow-Kill raises his head and stares each of the gang leaders in the eye in turn. "So this orc, he rolls down the car window, and blows a big hole in Face-Puncher's chest and drives off. He was six years old."
The whole assembly is quiet for a moment, even the normally loud Hufflepunk representative. The representative from the Rebel faction, a Polywhirl with a Glock on his hip, clears his throat and stands.
"If I recall," the Polywhirl says in an upper-class English accent, his mouth swirling hypnotically "our faction recently approached the Death Blades in regards to a shipment of bullet-proof vests."
Shadow-Kill glares. "Yeah, we just had to pick it up in Teir-6, no problem," he spits sarcastically. The Pokemon shrugs.
"That has always been our arrangement in the past," Polwhirl contends.
"No, Shadow-Kill makes a good point," says the Hufflepunk leader. "The orcs have control of IT-64 and IT-63 these days. The only way to get from Teir-6 to Teir-5 is through IT-65."
The collected gangsters murmur darkly; IT-65, the largest highway from Teir-6 to Tier-5, is one of the main arteries for contraband material in Coruscant. While thousands of OM get trafficked through that highway every day, thousands are also lost at the rigorous security checkpoints, making smuggling via that route a very dicey proposition.
"It's not just the IT-6s either," says a curvy purple Twi'lek as she steps forward. Her name is Na'hesti, a club-owner and a drug-dealer on Teir-4. "The orcs have been making serious headway into Teir-4, shooting up the streets and taking my dealers out of business. They control most of downtown Teir-4, including a big chunk of IT-45. I can't get my chems into Teir-5 without those tusk-fuckers getting the drop on me, even though I'm pretty sure I paid protection," she adds with a pointed stare at a muscular, tattooed Hutt sitting across the room.
The Hutt does not stand, but dismisses Na'hesti concerns with a smirk. Luci recognizes Zogo by reputation; the representative from the Hutt mafia is a feared killer and the son of a major Hutt family patriarch. As Luci understands it, the Hutt Mafia has shown the war council great respect by sending such as esteemed representative. The issue is, Zogo the Hutt and his Wookie lieutenants know it as well. Zogo makes a gurgling sound in his throat that could be mistaken for laughter.
"That's protection from us," says the oddly-muscular Hutt. "Which you're late on, by the way."
The Twi'lek is outraged. "My shipments have been stolen twice this month! You can have your thirty percent, but it's not gonna be fucking much!"
One of the Wookies behind Zogo lets out a very deep growl.
The collected criminals start to bicker.
Moss turns to Luci, his deep green eyes boring into her gold ones.
Luci nods.
Moss stands up, raises a glowing blue gun, and fires off two blasts of crackling blue into Zodo's chest. He catches each of the Wookies with a shot before they can reach for their guns. The room is silent as Moss watches the Hutt's body slide to the floor.
He turns to face them. "It's fucking simple; Westside, join or die. Shadow-Kill, you need fucking vests? You buy em, we deliver em, free of charge. Hufflepunks, you need drugs? Meet fucking Na'hesti, she has drugs. Na'hesti, you need to get your drugs into Teir-5? Guess what; we got you, free of fucking charge, as long as you never pay those slimy slug fucks again. This is what we offer; Westside, join or die. Nobody has to accept our offer, but if we find out you're working with orcs, we're going to come after you with everything we got. Now fuck off, I have to think."
The gangsters file out silently. Luci is the last to leave. She lingers by the door, her bioluminescence a soft invasion on the darkness. Moss sits with his head in his hands, surrounded by smoking corpses.
On the left side of the room, the Westside Coalition sits together.
Moss the elf and his lieutenants, Luci and Passionflower, representing the Westside Knife Ear Warriors.
Chirpa the Ewok and his brothers, representing what remains of the Westside Ewoks.
The hulking Klingon Koloth and his lieutenants, representing the Mighty Westside Klingons.
In the center of the ring of chairs, the obnoxious leader of the Hufflepunks has the floor, her face piercings clinking as she talks.
"So King Ladybug" she says, gesturing towards Moss "Can't even keep MY people alive, let alone his own. No disrespect," she adds, locking eyes with Moss, who looks hostile. "But Klowdy died on a mission with you and Lieutenant Perky-Tits. Yeah we got our guns," she says, acknowledging the glowing blue pistol on her hip "nobody is saying that you didn't accomplish something, but I think the orcs MIGHT have noticed. They've been hitting the streets hard as fuck, but I'm sure you've realized. Found Hopper yet?" she asks scathingly. The assembled gang leaders murmur.
Moss's silence speaks volumes.
"Didn't fucking think so," she continues. "Meanwhile, our chem supplier is dead, my first lieutenant is dead, and orcs have got every corner from here to the library locked down tight. Tell em what happened, Shadow-Kill."
Shadow-Kill stands, a blond young boy no older than ten, dressed in an outlandish mix of JCPenney and Hollywood ninja-garb. On his hip is an oversized katana. Shadow-Kill is the leader of the Death Blades, a gang of ragamuffin orphans with an interest in anime, who found that by stealing OM they could better act out their heroic playtime. His lieutenants, a boy and a girl even younger than him, have expressions of barely contained violence. Shadow-Kill clears his throat and speaks in his adolescent voice.
"Face-Puncher and Johnny R. were practicing ninja stuff on the playground by Phaser Street and Photon Avenue. That's been our playground for years," he adds, his eyes finding the floor. "So Face-Puncher, he sees a car pull up that he doesn't know. Face-Puncher you know, he has this thing," Shadow-Kill pauses. "He HAD this thing, about stranger-danger. He knew that strangers were dangerous, but he was really brave, and he wanted to protect people, so he would always want to see what strangers were up too. So Face-Puncher, he walks up to the car, and he goes 'are you bad guys, or good guys? Because we're good guys'" Shadow-Kill raises his head and stares each of the gang leaders in the eye in turn. "So this orc, he rolls down the car window, and blows a big hole in Face-Puncher's chest and drives off. He was six years old."
The whole assembly is quiet for a moment, even the normally loud Hufflepunk representative. The representative from the Rebel faction, a Polywhirl with a Glock on his hip, clears his throat and stands.
"If I recall," the Polywhirl says in an upper-class English accent, his mouth swirling hypnotically "our faction recently approached the Death Blades in regards to a shipment of bullet-proof vests."
Shadow-Kill glares. "Yeah, we just had to pick it up in Teir-6, no problem," he spits sarcastically. The Pokemon shrugs.
"That has always been our arrangement in the past," Polwhirl contends.
"No, Shadow-Kill makes a good point," says the Hufflepunk leader. "The orcs have control of IT-64 and IT-63 these days. The only way to get from Teir-6 to Teir-5 is through IT-65."
The collected gangsters murmur darkly; IT-65, the largest highway from Teir-6 to Tier-5, is one of the main arteries for contraband material in Coruscant. While thousands of OM get trafficked through that highway every day, thousands are also lost at the rigorous security checkpoints, making smuggling via that route a very dicey proposition.
"It's not just the IT-6s either," says a curvy purple Twi'lek as she steps forward. Her name is Na'hesti, a club-owner and a drug-dealer on Teir-4. "The orcs have been making serious headway into Teir-4, shooting up the streets and taking my dealers out of business. They control most of downtown Teir-4, including a big chunk of IT-45. I can't get my chems into Teir-5 without those tusk-fuckers getting the drop on me, even though I'm pretty sure I paid protection," she adds with a pointed stare at a muscular, tattooed Hutt sitting across the room.
The Hutt does not stand, but dismisses Na'hesti concerns with a smirk. Luci recognizes Zogo by reputation; the representative from the Hutt mafia is a feared killer and the son of a major Hutt family patriarch. As Luci understands it, the Hutt Mafia has shown the war council great respect by sending such as esteemed representative. The issue is, Zogo the Hutt and his Wookie lieutenants know it as well. Zogo makes a gurgling sound in his throat that could be mistaken for laughter.
"That's protection from us," says the oddly-muscular Hutt. "Which you're late on, by the way."
The Twi'lek is outraged. "My shipments have been stolen twice this month! You can have your thirty percent, but it's not gonna be fucking much!"
One of the Wookies behind Zogo lets out a very deep growl.
The collected criminals start to bicker.
Moss turns to Luci, his deep green eyes boring into her gold ones.
Luci nods.
Moss stands up, raises a glowing blue gun, and fires off two blasts of crackling blue into Zodo's chest. He catches each of the Wookies with a shot before they can reach for their guns. The room is silent as Moss watches the Hutt's body slide to the floor.
He turns to face them. "It's fucking simple; Westside, join or die. Shadow-Kill, you need fucking vests? You buy em, we deliver em, free of charge. Hufflepunks, you need drugs? Meet fucking Na'hesti, she has drugs. Na'hesti, you need to get your drugs into Teir-5? Guess what; we got you, free of fucking charge, as long as you never pay those slimy slug fucks again. This is what we offer; Westside, join or die. Nobody has to accept our offer, but if we find out you're working with orcs, we're going to come after you with everything we got. Now fuck off, I have to think."
The gangsters file out silently. Luci is the last to leave. She lingers by the door, her bioluminescence a soft invasion on the darkness. Moss sits with his head in his hands, surrounded by smoking corpses.
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