02-13-2018, 02:25 PM
Four gleaming, white & black vans emblazoned with the Empire's sigil pulled up haphazardly outside the Augustus Hardware Outlet; the building that they had been told secretly concealed one of the NSW's underground casinos...
Now that he thought about it, Sergeant Kroll vor Iechtelsteir wasn't actually all that sure why they went to all the trouble of building hidden casinos in the first place... just so they could discuss their gang business openly? Or perhaps so that they could sell their drugs and prostitute their whores more openly? It seemed to him like they'd probably make just as much of a profit, if not more, if they skipped the illegal stuff and just opened a legit casino chain... it wasn't like there was much in the way of oversight down here on Tier Five; crimes like murder and rape were the sorts of things that the EPD – stretched thin as it was – would still try to deal with...
But operating a gambling den without the proper permits? Maybe selling alcohol to minors? Breaking minimum wage laws? Those sorts of civil matters were pretty low on their to-do lists.
Still, the situation was what it was. Not long after their blatantly Imperial vans were parked coolly and very obviously right in the middle of the road (unlike their previous raid, Lieutenant Calrime wanted this one to attract attention) a quick countdown could be heard over their radios, and then, on 'one', Kroll opened the driver-side door of the van he'd taken, whilst beside him Jallus Reiner – a thin, dark-skinned man – opened the passenger-side door with his new, bionic arm; a replacement for the one he had had torn out of its socket by Shotgun Steve during their recent conflict.
At the same time, every other door on every other van opened as well. Yes, as stupid as it sounded, Davion had actually insisted that they use radios to arrange for all their doors to open simultaneously. It was dumb, but Kroll had to admit that it hadn't taken him long to warm up to his superior's plan; he had always been a big fan of the whole 'looking cool in front of the public' thing, and it felt pretty good to have the lieutenant finally on board with it as well.
And there was no doubt that the public could see them. The Outlet wasn't quite in the centre of Northside's shopping district, but it wasn't too far off, so the street was pretty busy; already, they had caused a traffic jam by stopping here, blocking the way forwards. Of course, the main reason for blocking the road was to make it harder for anyone who escaped to just dive off... but having the additional effect of giving them a free audience was by no means a bad thing. In the aftermath of having their barracks (temporarily) fall into enemy hands, very publicly taking down one of their attackers' hideouts would prove to be the perfect way of demonstrating to everyone that the Empire was still the top dog around here, even down in the depths of Tier Five.
Some of the recruits waved at the rapidly-forming, rather irritated audience, as horns blared and people yelled at them to get the fuck out of the way. The EPD got a lot less respect this far down than they did up on Tier One, but Kroll didn't reprimand them; the 'troopers or the citizens. This was fine as it was, they only needed witnesses, not necessarily silent ones, and it wasn't like it would really hurt to have the EPD seen acting more human, rather than as a buch of mindless cogs in a machine.
Davion didn't leave them long to mess about, though. Just a few moments after they'd left the vehicles, he was yelling commands, which they heeded with a surprising degree of alacrity, given that they lacked the customary training and indoctrination that 'real' stormtroopers received.
After they'd all assembled before him, their Imperial Officer took a moment to regard them in silence – and allow the crowd to appreciated the all too infrequent sight (down here, at least) of a formation of EPD soldiers several ranks deep – before ordering the squad into the building.
Davion being the man he was, though, he chose to lead the way himself, rather than taking up a safer position in the rear, as might have been expected of a commanding officer. Kroll and the rest of his elites followed along behind.
Filing into the store in pairs, they immediately noticed... the interior of a hardware store. It was big, yes, with a very high ceiling and aisles stretching far into the distance, but otherwise didn't seem particularly suspicious. That said, the former nobleman had never exactly been at all interested in hardware, so had little experience with these sorts of stores, he had to admit... for all he knew, perhaps a DIY aficionado could have taken one look at this place and deduced instantly that it was nothing more than a front business for concealing criminal activity.
Still, the timid-looking, pimple-faced teenager who approached the squad whilst wringing his hands nervously (at the same time as a few frightened customers backed away just as nervously) hardly seemed much like a gangster.
“E-excuse me,” he asked, visibly trembling with fear, “H-h-how c-can I h-help you, o-officers?”
Davion glanced across at Kroll, who shrugged, “I guess we just handcuff him or tie him up or something?”
“And the rest of them?” the lieutenant asked, jerking his head towards the other civilians. Whilst they didn't know for sure whether or not the staff and customers were in on the charade, it seemed like a reasonable suspicion.
“Okay, okay. How about just leaving them here with a few guards while we head further in? It's not like we can really drag innocent people into the middle of a gunfight, after all.”
Davion grunted and waved a hand at a few of the recruits. “Alright, you four stay behind. Leben, you're with them. Everyone else, come on, let's get moving.”
Frank Leben, a tanned, muscular blond man, who was the squad's foremost alcoholic, shrugged then nodded, “Sure thing, boss.”
Leaving those five behind, after corralling the seemingly terrified but potentially criminal citizens into a loose group not far from the entranceway, they headed further in. It quickly became clear that, rather than simply building multiple floors, as any reasonable person would have done, the shop's owner had opted instead to simply attach steel walkways to his absurdly tall sets of shelves, meaning that the vast interior of the building – which couldn't have been less than four stories high – was just one huge room.
This made rounding up any clientele and members of staff that they came across a somewhat tricky proposition, since they were technically 'coming across' people who were almost dozen metres above their heads. The ones on the ground floor were little trouble, but those on the walkways often required splitting off a few members of the group to backtrack to whatever set of steps they'd passed most recently, before heading up at least one level, then moving across to the individuals in question and forcing them to walk all the way down.
Attempting to apprehend everyone in this manner was time-consuming work and slowed their progress drastically. So much so that Davion called a halt to it entirely before too long. They still took anyone they met on the ground floor into custody – gathering them up in small groups before sending a couple 'troopers back with them to the holding party, with instructions to return to the main group after having dropped off their charges – but no longer did they go after anyone so much as a single level above them; it was taking too long. At this rate, assuming this place had a back door or two (which seemed a pretty safe bet to make given is size) every actual NSW member might easily have time to evacuate whilst they were busy securing people who may well turn out to be nothing more than innocent bystanders in the end.
So they hurried on as best they could, until at last they came to a large, grey wall, somewhat surprisingly not lined with shelves. It did support multiple walkways, though. Three in total, one a quarter of the way up, one halfway up, and one three-quarters of the way to the ceiling; the same number that were present on each set of shelves. At seemingly random points on the walkways and along the ground floor, were doors marked by little signs that read 'Warehouse Area: Staff Only Beyond This Point'.
So it seemed that there was more to this place than just the one vast room after all... not that they could really focus on that at this particular moment. No, they were all rather distracted by the swarm of grey-and-white-clad goons lounging around on the walkways before them. The thin metal rails wouldn't offer them the slightest bit of cover from the stormtroopers' blaster fire... but there were just so many up there that it likely wouldn't make a jot of difference no matter how many they managed to gun down.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, suddenly the platforms on either side of the wide aisle that the squad had just headed down were also awash with Wolfpack thugs. They had been laying in wait, most likely monitoring them on a security feed ever since they stepped through the doors, or even since the moment their vans pulled up outside, setting up the best ambush they possibly could.
Kroll's lips thinned and his brow lowered into a frown. Not all of those around him were so reserved, though; Davion and a few others cursed openly, and some of the recruits began backing away, their guns swinging madly from target to target, as they sought to somehow cover every enemy at once.
“Well, well, well, what've we got 'ere...?” a female voice asked from on high, its tone smug. Looking up, Kroll saw a young, black woman wearing a white vest, grey skinny-jeans and black trainers. She was leaning casually on the railing, completely at ease, holding some sort of baton in one hand which was attached by a length of chain to some large object (or objects) which sat on the walkway; he couldn't make out what from this distance, though. She didn't appear to be in possession of a firearm and aside from a large, bright pink mohawk and a couple big, ragged scars – one on each arm – didn't really stand out particularly from any of the other goons, “Looks like a few swine just trotted inta the slaughter'ouse, boys n' girls.”
The moment she finished speaking – smirking down at them now – everyone else on the walkways seemed to begin yelling at the same moment. They shouted jeers and insults and curses down upon the EPD soldiers, who, realising how badly outnumbered they truly were, were now instinctively forming a tight circle in the middle of the aisle... it gave them some small illusion of safety, standing side-by-side and back-to-back with their friends and squad mates... though in actuality, they were simply making it harder for their foes to miss.
After a few moments had passed, the woman who had spoken first held up a hand for silence, which came almost immediately, “Alright, no sense dragging this out any longer; unlike Stevie, I don't see the point in 'oldin' long-ass conversations with bitches I'm plannin' to 'ave killed anyways. Do it.”
This time around, the moment she finished speaking, her minions opened fire.
Now that he thought about it, Sergeant Kroll vor Iechtelsteir wasn't actually all that sure why they went to all the trouble of building hidden casinos in the first place... just so they could discuss their gang business openly? Or perhaps so that they could sell their drugs and prostitute their whores more openly? It seemed to him like they'd probably make just as much of a profit, if not more, if they skipped the illegal stuff and just opened a legit casino chain... it wasn't like there was much in the way of oversight down here on Tier Five; crimes like murder and rape were the sorts of things that the EPD – stretched thin as it was – would still try to deal with...
But operating a gambling den without the proper permits? Maybe selling alcohol to minors? Breaking minimum wage laws? Those sorts of civil matters were pretty low on their to-do lists.
Still, the situation was what it was. Not long after their blatantly Imperial vans were parked coolly and very obviously right in the middle of the road (unlike their previous raid, Lieutenant Calrime wanted this one to attract attention) a quick countdown could be heard over their radios, and then, on 'one', Kroll opened the driver-side door of the van he'd taken, whilst beside him Jallus Reiner – a thin, dark-skinned man – opened the passenger-side door with his new, bionic arm; a replacement for the one he had had torn out of its socket by Shotgun Steve during their recent conflict.
At the same time, every other door on every other van opened as well. Yes, as stupid as it sounded, Davion had actually insisted that they use radios to arrange for all their doors to open simultaneously. It was dumb, but Kroll had to admit that it hadn't taken him long to warm up to his superior's plan; he had always been a big fan of the whole 'looking cool in front of the public' thing, and it felt pretty good to have the lieutenant finally on board with it as well.
And there was no doubt that the public could see them. The Outlet wasn't quite in the centre of Northside's shopping district, but it wasn't too far off, so the street was pretty busy; already, they had caused a traffic jam by stopping here, blocking the way forwards. Of course, the main reason for blocking the road was to make it harder for anyone who escaped to just dive off... but having the additional effect of giving them a free audience was by no means a bad thing. In the aftermath of having their barracks (temporarily) fall into enemy hands, very publicly taking down one of their attackers' hideouts would prove to be the perfect way of demonstrating to everyone that the Empire was still the top dog around here, even down in the depths of Tier Five.
Some of the recruits waved at the rapidly-forming, rather irritated audience, as horns blared and people yelled at them to get the fuck out of the way. The EPD got a lot less respect this far down than they did up on Tier One, but Kroll didn't reprimand them; the 'troopers or the citizens. This was fine as it was, they only needed witnesses, not necessarily silent ones, and it wasn't like it would really hurt to have the EPD seen acting more human, rather than as a buch of mindless cogs in a machine.
Davion didn't leave them long to mess about, though. Just a few moments after they'd left the vehicles, he was yelling commands, which they heeded with a surprising degree of alacrity, given that they lacked the customary training and indoctrination that 'real' stormtroopers received.
After they'd all assembled before him, their Imperial Officer took a moment to regard them in silence – and allow the crowd to appreciated the all too infrequent sight (down here, at least) of a formation of EPD soldiers several ranks deep – before ordering the squad into the building.
Davion being the man he was, though, he chose to lead the way himself, rather than taking up a safer position in the rear, as might have been expected of a commanding officer. Kroll and the rest of his elites followed along behind.
Filing into the store in pairs, they immediately noticed... the interior of a hardware store. It was big, yes, with a very high ceiling and aisles stretching far into the distance, but otherwise didn't seem particularly suspicious. That said, the former nobleman had never exactly been at all interested in hardware, so had little experience with these sorts of stores, he had to admit... for all he knew, perhaps a DIY aficionado could have taken one look at this place and deduced instantly that it was nothing more than a front business for concealing criminal activity.
Still, the timid-looking, pimple-faced teenager who approached the squad whilst wringing his hands nervously (at the same time as a few frightened customers backed away just as nervously) hardly seemed much like a gangster.
“E-excuse me,” he asked, visibly trembling with fear, “H-h-how c-can I h-help you, o-officers?”
Davion glanced across at Kroll, who shrugged, “I guess we just handcuff him or tie him up or something?”
“And the rest of them?” the lieutenant asked, jerking his head towards the other civilians. Whilst they didn't know for sure whether or not the staff and customers were in on the charade, it seemed like a reasonable suspicion.
“Okay, okay. How about just leaving them here with a few guards while we head further in? It's not like we can really drag innocent people into the middle of a gunfight, after all.”
Davion grunted and waved a hand at a few of the recruits. “Alright, you four stay behind. Leben, you're with them. Everyone else, come on, let's get moving.”
Frank Leben, a tanned, muscular blond man, who was the squad's foremost alcoholic, shrugged then nodded, “Sure thing, boss.”
Leaving those five behind, after corralling the seemingly terrified but potentially criminal citizens into a loose group not far from the entranceway, they headed further in. It quickly became clear that, rather than simply building multiple floors, as any reasonable person would have done, the shop's owner had opted instead to simply attach steel walkways to his absurdly tall sets of shelves, meaning that the vast interior of the building – which couldn't have been less than four stories high – was just one huge room.
This made rounding up any clientele and members of staff that they came across a somewhat tricky proposition, since they were technically 'coming across' people who were almost dozen metres above their heads. The ones on the ground floor were little trouble, but those on the walkways often required splitting off a few members of the group to backtrack to whatever set of steps they'd passed most recently, before heading up at least one level, then moving across to the individuals in question and forcing them to walk all the way down.
Attempting to apprehend everyone in this manner was time-consuming work and slowed their progress drastically. So much so that Davion called a halt to it entirely before too long. They still took anyone they met on the ground floor into custody – gathering them up in small groups before sending a couple 'troopers back with them to the holding party, with instructions to return to the main group after having dropped off their charges – but no longer did they go after anyone so much as a single level above them; it was taking too long. At this rate, assuming this place had a back door or two (which seemed a pretty safe bet to make given is size) every actual NSW member might easily have time to evacuate whilst they were busy securing people who may well turn out to be nothing more than innocent bystanders in the end.
So they hurried on as best they could, until at last they came to a large, grey wall, somewhat surprisingly not lined with shelves. It did support multiple walkways, though. Three in total, one a quarter of the way up, one halfway up, and one three-quarters of the way to the ceiling; the same number that were present on each set of shelves. At seemingly random points on the walkways and along the ground floor, were doors marked by little signs that read 'Warehouse Area: Staff Only Beyond This Point'.
So it seemed that there was more to this place than just the one vast room after all... not that they could really focus on that at this particular moment. No, they were all rather distracted by the swarm of grey-and-white-clad goons lounging around on the walkways before them. The thin metal rails wouldn't offer them the slightest bit of cover from the stormtroopers' blaster fire... but there were just so many up there that it likely wouldn't make a jot of difference no matter how many they managed to gun down.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, suddenly the platforms on either side of the wide aisle that the squad had just headed down were also awash with Wolfpack thugs. They had been laying in wait, most likely monitoring them on a security feed ever since they stepped through the doors, or even since the moment their vans pulled up outside, setting up the best ambush they possibly could.
Kroll's lips thinned and his brow lowered into a frown. Not all of those around him were so reserved, though; Davion and a few others cursed openly, and some of the recruits began backing away, their guns swinging madly from target to target, as they sought to somehow cover every enemy at once.
“Well, well, well, what've we got 'ere...?” a female voice asked from on high, its tone smug. Looking up, Kroll saw a young, black woman wearing a white vest, grey skinny-jeans and black trainers. She was leaning casually on the railing, completely at ease, holding some sort of baton in one hand which was attached by a length of chain to some large object (or objects) which sat on the walkway; he couldn't make out what from this distance, though. She didn't appear to be in possession of a firearm and aside from a large, bright pink mohawk and a couple big, ragged scars – one on each arm – didn't really stand out particularly from any of the other goons, “Looks like a few swine just trotted inta the slaughter'ouse, boys n' girls.”
The moment she finished speaking – smirking down at them now – everyone else on the walkways seemed to begin yelling at the same moment. They shouted jeers and insults and curses down upon the EPD soldiers, who, realising how badly outnumbered they truly were, were now instinctively forming a tight circle in the middle of the aisle... it gave them some small illusion of safety, standing side-by-side and back-to-back with their friends and squad mates... though in actuality, they were simply making it harder for their foes to miss.
After a few moments had passed, the woman who had spoken first held up a hand for silence, which came almost immediately, “Alright, no sense dragging this out any longer; unlike Stevie, I don't see the point in 'oldin' long-ass conversations with bitches I'm plannin' to 'ave killed anyways. Do it.”
This time around, the moment she finished speaking, her minions opened fire.
![[Image: Hijiri_Name_Sig.png]](https://image.ibb.co/k1H7Hd/Hijiri_Name_Sig.png)