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Black Sun Operative[s]

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  1. The Gholam's smirk stops as it steps through the droid arch, taking all of what its circuits called willpower to avoid reacting. A hand and a foot passed the threshhold, quickly withdrawing. The droid holds up its hand, which appeared fine, but it felt numb, as if it was somehow crystalized. Unable to move it, the droid steps back and massages it carefully till what passed for feeling in its sensors returned and it could move again, shedding the damaged flecks of nanites like a person would skin. Permitting only the briefest of frowns, it retreats back to its ship, a tattered X-wing with the air of someone who changed his mind. The ship lifts off and leaves, its not opaque hatch snapping shut, leaving only an oily stain to mark where it touched down.
  2. Sometimes, plans changed. Other times, even when the people, the locations, and the shape of the galaxy all went to hell and back, the plan remained the same. Which of those it was did not concern the Gholam as he still was given orders that he had to fulfill, though its systems acknowledged things had changed somewhat. Loyalty in a droid, particularly a construct as singleminded as Aginor's Gholam was an iffy thing. Its "instincts" made it happy to kill, just as its instincts, its root level program made it subservient above all to Black Sun, even over its desire to kill. What it would feel about someone leaving the organization out of the blue, abandoning killing for Black Sun's cause for killing on his or her own or even at the beck of another might cause it come as close as it could feel to shock or the less murderous kind of outrage. That would be the kind of thing it would kill for. Of course, plans, can change. The Gholam thought about his orders and the minute changes that took place on its initial test run as he passed through security. No weapon was found on its being, though its body structure, appearing human for all intense and purposes was a weapon in its own right being able to loosen its form and move with a celerity and strength that was all but superhuman. Being able to choke the life from a man, or snap his neck, or give a chopping blow of the hand to the face, or should the occasion present itself, severe a head from the top of the spine with a pull and twist couldn't be taken away, not without disarming a creature such as this in the most literal sense of dis-arming. Not without a steely smirk, the plain looking human, still moving with its uncanny grace, moved into the Casino proper.
  3. Aginor opens the paper and then takes a lighter to promptly burn it. "An excellent test Number One. I'll see to it at once, as well as having the heart plugs installed. I'll try to leave a few features that lead back to the Hutts." He states the last with a smirk, wadding up the bills and stuffing them in his pocket. Departing from Smash, Aginor awakens his creation in a distant part of the base, removing it from the stasis chamber where it "hybernated" until it was ready to be fully activated. Doing so, he looks at the monster with apprehension, and then briefs it on his target, using another holodisplay to do so. "This is the one marked for death," he states cooly. "See to it that it meets him. You have an unmarked shuttle from a smuggler waiting. Use the usual random jumps and clear the log so it cannot be traced back to us." The gholam stares unblinkingly at his creator, obedience bred into its very being. The clothes that were built into its form held a few essentials such as ID and credits, but nothing resembling a weapon. It was the weapon and was built to tear sentient beings apart with its bare hands. Compliant, it leaves the base to track down and eliminate its target.
  4. A Black Sun scientist approaches Lord Daisaku, having taken the initiative to report on his own. This scientist, code named Aginor, had once accompanied Daisaku on the Golden Dawn to a meeting at the Spire. A former war criminal under his old name of Ishar Morrad Chuain during his time with the Empire, Aginor was a scholarly looking man, clad in a white lab coat with overly large, thick glasses. He was balding, and his remaining hair was as white as snow. "Number One," he stated formally. "I wanted to run by you a set of experimental droids to use in our dealings, particularly against CoreSec, but also in case any force users get in our path." Aginor holds up a disc showing what looked like a HRD-Human Replica Droid-very ordinary and unassuming, it took on an unnaturally fluid motion as the holovid showed it in action. "The entire thing is composed of nanites, an artifical human made that way. He's extremely fluid and can kill quickly, squeezing into tight spaces. Given the cost of making them, I figure at most we can make six- three males and three females, though for now, this prototype will have to do. I believe it will be good for espionage and assassination in particular. To that end, I've made it so it must feed off blood to replenish itself so it is forced to train and hunt. It's nano particles are made by false companies that lead back to the old Empire, so blame will fall to them if it's captured. A quick cut to rip out someone's throat and it can feed, though here, an artificial I.V. drip will keep staff fatalities to a minimum- unless you wish it otherwise to test or dispose of some of our lesser agents. Because it's a walking, viscious mass of nanites, it's also a bit more resistant to force tricks, though EMPs and force lightning can severely hurt it, causing burns and parts of it to solidify and break apart. I call it the HRD-Gholam." He leaves the holovid on Smash's desk, then produces a second one. It shows a slave with a peculiar looking device in his chest- like a simple stopper placed where the heart should be. "I call this the heartplug. It's a mildly invasive procedure that does what it says. A good yank and the heart pours its lifeblood out in a gorey mess. It's a bit messier than say a hidden bomb or an exploding collar for slaves, but it can be combined with an autonomous system that causes them to eject under certain conditions. If nothing else, it's visible and it generates fear, keeping our slaves in line. the downside is it is hard to reverse and could easily trace back to a line of slaves and possibly us if our business partners are careless." The vid shows a masked agent pulling the slaves plug with a casual yank and twist. The slave gasps as blood spurts out of his chest, his fingers reaching in to cover the wound. In less than a minute the slave lies motionless and lifeless in a red pool. "I await your approval, Number One."
  5. Cham gives the matter thought, taking a seat across from the great lord of the dark underside of the galaxy. "It will be so," he states finally,helping himself to a decanter of brandy, which he pours into a small shot glass and drinks from gingerly. "I can send out represenatives and feelers for this new Academy of the Sun on Bespin to prestigious instutions across the galaxy. Coruscant, Naboo, Corellia, and the like have prestigious universities. I think with our resources, it would not be hard to poach away some of their star professors." Cham licks his lips, mind racing. "If we can turn this into the academic organization in the galaxy, I see a lot of benefit, particularly if we make this a home for the galaxy's up and coming elite. Bespin is still known for its gambling halls as well as its tibanna gas. If we can ensare the wealthy and idolant during their years of study to our vices, we can lay hooks into them early on and make them owe us so we own them utterly. Others can be turned to our side willingly. Others still, we can study and watch for opportune times to move on. Yes, this plan has great merit." Cham finishes his brandy and watches the other operative finish polishing Smash's shoes. "Lady Terra was last heard of on the Sith Temple, completely and utterly slaying some fool of a Jedi who bothered the great lords of the Sith who worked together to massacre him in ways that will haunt children for generations to come. Shall I fetch her for you?"
  6. The plan was executed with a simple perfection, and with the timely aim of damaging two birds with one stone. Not hitting per say, but "winging" them both for a future take down. Milos Vahratan was a known weapons trader, a representative of BlasTech industries. Recent changes on Bespin had resulted in a rise in Tibanna gas and Milos looked to find buyers for his company's wares given the spike in prices. Ared Mosinel was his contact, a distinguished looking man with a bit of white hair streaking his temples, and had set up the meeting. Mosinel, or rather "R. Gaebril" as his papers and the transponders on his ship identified him as, claimed to be a representative of the Galactic Gunshop and invited Vahratan to the Resort for a business meeting. It would be Vahratan's last. The meeting started smoothly with "Gaebril" summoning one of the resort's prettiest waitresses over to serve the two of them as they went down to business. Beauitiful women were Mosinel's speciality and he practiced an underhanded form of compulsion, using Zeltron pheromones to seduce women. Today was no exception, but she was not for him. Midway through the meeting, he was giving a hesitant Vahratan details on an illicit way to bolster his company's profits by selling to the Gunshop in exchange for the Gunshop getting BlasTech in touch with illicit smugglers to lower their overhead on tibanna gas if an agreement was struck. The deal was, unknown to Vahratan, a rouse. The names of the smugglers were real though, though these were wilfull fools who elected to stay out of Black Sun's sphere of influence and do business on their own. As the BlasTech representative was looking over the datapad, Mosinel slipped something into his drink. It was part Zeltron pheromone and part of something else, something resembling a poison could lay dormant until certain bodily conditions were met. Mosinel watched Vahratan gulp down the drink, and using his pheromone dispenser, watched a second bout of chemistry happen with the waitress, the Resort's own employee, the pheromones, and the BlasTech representative. As the chemicals and emotions mixed, Mosinel took his leave of the two, asking Vahratan to just think about his offer and to contact Slicer at the gunshop directly. He departed as quietly as he left soon to ditch his assumed name and ship to cover his tracks. As it happened, the plan went off flawlessly about three hours after Mosinel departed. Vahratan would die in the throes of passion that night in his room at the resort, leaving his pheromone besotted waitress and lover of the night aghast as his heart gave out in a natural looking heart attack. Naturally both the media and police would be involved and would ask two questions that looked bad for both the Resort and the Gunshop: Why was the married high ranking BlasTech representative caught dead in bed with a Resort waitress in such a scandalous fashion? And why was he carrying documents all but outlining an illegal trade deal with his company, the Galactic Gunshop, and known smugglers?
  7. Two Black Sun operatives enter into Smash's office. One immediately starts polishing Smash's boots with the utmost care and attention. The second stands ready and attentive. A former advocate, he was exceptional for what he did, at least until he decided to forsake his previous life and devote himself to the majesty of the great lord of the galaxy's dark underside- Smash Daisaku of Black Sun. "Agent Duram Laddel Cham reporting for duty, sir." The Black Sun operative gives a crisp salute right up against his close cropped silver hair. "You need me, sir?"
  8. Receiving a communication from the Dark Lord of the Sith was not exactly something that happened every day on Dubrillion. A generic Black Sun lackey, who had spent his entire life murdering the innocent, for cash, for Smash Daisaku, was honored to handle such the transmission. As he received due authorization and confirmation from the masterful prince of the organization, he replied to the approaching spacecraft. ”œHonored Master of the Sith,”
  9. A visually innocuous string of three dozen Lambda class shuttles soared across the merchant skies of Naboo, toward the capital municipality. That destination was Theed, the planetary seat of the Royal House and traditionally the human seat of power. Sending legitimate numeric codes to the local authorities, which were stolen and bribed away from key trading guilds, the spacecrafts continued their flight paths, which directly led to the Royal Palace ”“ the one where noted Queen and Senator Padme Amidala had ruled as a youthful monarch. The digital transmission created the faux intention that seemingly harmless ships would turn off before reaching the notable landmark, since it was just a merchant operation. Nothing more. ”œWe're looking for a good bongo salesman,”
  10. OOC: This post is a revamped version of an earlier one in this thread. A massive courtyard, larger than most cities, covered in an enormous dome that comprised the majestic center of the Black Sun administrative district on Fondor. Atop the dome was featured the emblem of the Black Sun. A long, high scaffold stood in the middle of the yard. Three human women and over a dozen men filled the allotted spaces, with their ruined hands and tired feet bound, nooses snug around their worthless necks, with dingy, filth-caked sacks covering each worry-stricken face. Some wept piteously; most were only terrified, but all knew that death was on its way. The evil man who was called Avaraxus III, hailed from the bowels of Coruscant. His face was covered with an evil black mask, in order that he could breathe. His red eyes seemed to glow brighter as he was murdering. His lungs had been scarred from drugs. He was a staunchly racist assassin, who had engineered the deaths of millions and a loyal murderer of Smash Daisaku's Black Sun, fully tenured in making problems disappear. His new assistant was a young Corellian named Baalus, a once excited lad, eager to see the giant starships constructed in the shipyards of Fondor. Now all he cared about was killing. He was still fascinated with space-faring battle ships. He always had been. Now, Baalus was more fascinated with cashing Black Sun checks, and even more entranced with persecuting foreign races in the name of Smash Daisaku and his corporate crusades, and capitalism, and zealous greed, and a love for execution. Few ways were finer for exercising zealous militant power than ethnic cleansing and racial persecution. Baalus was new to such fierce things. He still had his wicked youth and great lust. ”œFor the Black Sun!”
  11. The operatives responsible for the sudden cargo shipment that brough the Empire into the shipyards quietly dissapear amid this dispora of New Republic workers. A few valuable bits of data on Republic technology and some very small, but valuable items that were eyed for some time by the Ops dissapear as well. While they stayed entirely out of the fighting, simply as a matter of pragmatism, a couple Republic investigators who looked to be close to unmasking Black Sun itself ended up dead- one cut down by a blaster during the Imperial seige, the other somehow shooting off into space as if in an escape pod- sans the escape pod- to die a frozen, breathless death in the icy void of space. One operative remains behind to collect on additional payments- taken out of Republic funds and credits no less- for services the organization provided in aiding the seige and to ensure their tracks in this affair were thoroughly covered with few more systematic computer relays and another half-dozen murders of Republic personnel suspected of knowing too much. After that, the man was gone, and so apparently was the Black Sun presence. In the end, who could really say for sure if the Black Sun rose here? With that done, the criminal organization moves off the shipyards, aiming to establish a quiet presence on the many mining asteroids surrounding the shipyards, quietly making money off the miners and material wealth present.
  12. Emboldened by past pilfery, as well as payments from interested parties, the score strong Black Sun Operatives begin stepping up their theft of ship parts for sale on the black market, removing a few choicer and rarer components for sale. As this goes on, orders are made for additional shipments of supplies and cargo to be delivered into the shipyard from interested parties and Black Sun affilitates.
  13. The moment the Imperials "showed up in the skies" over Thyferra repeating Needa's infamous mistake over Hoth which now gave this planet advanced warning of the attack, orders were quickly passed to the two companies controlling bacta supplies for the galaxy, which were found to be agreeable by both parties realizing the gloomy reality of an Imperial takeover. This in turn was relayed to the various bacta production facilities and their guards. With everything in motion, a single comm line is opened locally to the Imperial commander, its message short, while ambassadors for the controlling party on the planet- its main two corporations, and by secret association, Black Sun- worked simply to stall until the above was absolutely in place. The message was short and as follows, with the means to carry out the threat in place and ready to go with four minutes and counting. Short and insolent, it spoke of a superior bargaining position, showing the firm control over the planet- especially given the prospect of Imperial disenfranchisement and slavery as the obvious alternative. To the esteemed Imperial commanders beseiging our planet. You are kindly being told to **** off and leave our space within the next three minutes. The moment you attack with one laser or even launch a single shuttle down to the planet, you lose your prize. If you don't comply and leave, you lose. It's a simple fact that he who controls a thing can destroy it, and we control bacta. We know of your hardline attempts to nationalize industries, and the instant you try to take what is ours, we will destroy it all. The people are in place and are all seperately monitoring the situation using groundline communications. The moment you fire a single shot, or launch a single troop, or try staying beyond the next 2:42 and counting means we torch our alazhi and kavam supplies, cutting bacta off at its source. We do that, and everyone cries. If you never learned anything from the Bacta war, you cannot take Thyferra with overwhelming force, which is why the New Republic never tried it that way. Now, kindly piss off. If you need bacta for your war efforts, licensed distributors will be ready to visit you and still sell you what you need despite this incident. You have 2:30 and counting to leave.
  14. Black's operatives, already careful by hiding their ties to their parent organization just in case of a situation like this, took a hint when dealing with the Empire, or any other organization with similar values: when all your contacts start dying off, you cut your losses and leave quietly. After a few stealth shipments and last minute payments, the nameless operatives go completely underground, dissapearing from Ryloth's Imperial radar. It was, regrettably, the safe manuver. Of course, leaving a few clues behind linking the bribery ring to being the brain child of prominent Hutt Clan power holders on Nal Hutta operating in what was a normally Hutt territory like Ryloth didn't hurt either...
  15. Working quietly, a few operatives, not calling themselves part of Black Sun to maintain the security of the parent organization, work to ingratiate themselves with the officers of the local garrison on Ryloth. Through offers of fine meals, exotics, and after careful measure, drugs and vices that some corrupt officers were prone to, they start the task of quietly lobbying the imperials towards giving them an exclusive edge on the drug and Twi'lek slave trades- both legal and illicit, operating on Ryloth. Kickbacks are given, mostly to dig the commanders into Black Sun's as of yet unnamed pockets.
  16. "One holy bartender coming up!" A holy bartender, normally comprised of the following: 1.5 oz Brandy 1.0 glass Cola 4.0 cubes crushed Ice 0.5 oz Jagermeister was now reduced to Adenn Galaar and R3-N0's force pike, shaken, not stirred. R3-N0 watched Adenn charge, and in the classic manuver of the ancient Scots at the battle of Bannockburn against charging English heavy cavalry, R3-N0 lowered his force pike, skewering the bartender on it, then flipped him over like a spiked pig into the flames of his bar, letting the corpse smolder. Withdrawing his pike from Adenn's chest, he rushes to 3L-3N4's side and hefts her up, carrying her out of the smoking bar with the remaining Black Sun soldiers. Outside, they meet RU-D3, quietly sitting on a stack of crates, smoking a cigarette, watching the riots spread through Mos Eisley. "... I think our work here is done. We should get her checked out," he states with a nod towards 3L-3N4. R3-N0 nods and the soldiers quickly march to the near-by spaceport, and after further hostile negotiations, reinforced by landing Black Sun soldiers, they secure it. Due to the riots, Mos Eisley and its spaceport are soon left in the hands of Black Sun, the cantina is left to finish burning itself out to a hollow shell- soon demolished and replaced with a Black Sun command post, and the trio of leading Black Sun Operatives, now patched up from the battle, make their way into space and hyperspace, leaving Tatooine behind.
  17. Things errupted into a state of chaos with the EMP, causing R3-N0 to mutter a choice explative under his breath as he faced a full on riot. Pivoting around, he faced the bar as its patrons started attacking each other and the Black Sun soldiers he lead in the bar. Fortunately, even though its stun features vanished, his force pike remained a heavy bo-staff, just as the vibro knucklettes remained knucklettes, and the vibro-shivs remained shivs. "Alright! Round 2, nerf herders, let's fight!" he yells, whirling the force pike over his head, then bringing into into a wide sweep, cracking a man with a chair in the head, then spinning it around to trip another with a bottle. A third patron then finds himself punched in the throat with the tip of the pike, dropping to the ground. R3-N0 keeps his calm, establishing a zone of defense with his force pike, sending attackers fleeing. RU-D3, still by the counter, also keeps his calm. An attacker charges him, only to get judo grabbed and tossed head first into the inferno behind the operative. He follows up with a jackie-chan style kick, sending a Gamoriean smuggler flailing backwards into a table. With that bit of breathing room, he dives atop the counter and grabs a hydraulic spray tap of beer, then liberally douses the rioters behind him, once more flipping out his never-fail lighter. Taking out a cigar, he lights it off a screaming patron Rory Breaker style, grunting as his chest gets slashed open, takes a drag, then grinds it into the eye of a smuggler creeping up on him with a knife. "... Mr. Daisauk owes us overtime for this." With that RU-D3 charges into the bar fight propper, boxing his way through the turmoil. At this point, the soldiers in the middle of the bar withdrew into a tight triangle formation, their vibroshivs out. They keep their formation, closing ranks as three of their numbers fall to chairs, knifes, and a glass bottle jammed in the throat, making sure that the smugglers cannot break their ranks. Their defensive line set, it's a matter of knife work- trained soldiers against drunken, angry smugglers. The ground runs red. As this happens, the four soldiers left guarding the exits, their backs against the wall, make the most crucial decision necessary to save themselves in the fight. They open the doors and let sunlight from Tatooine's twin suns stream in. Between the darkness, chaos, and fire spreading everywhere, they gambled the patrons would not be so attached to their vendetta against Black Sun that they'd throw down their lives. Sure enough, a sizeable portion of the cantina empties into the streats, bringing the angry riot to Mos Eilsey propper and fleeing beyondm RU-D3 among them as he takes off into the streets. The remaining soldiers start to clear out the bar as the soldiers by the exits step outside, keeping watch for interference and waiting for back up from the spaceport. 3L-3NA meanwhile, screams, feeling the barkeep's knife buried in her shoulder. A last minute twist saved her from an otherwise fatal blow, causing it instead to be a nasty, if not incapacitating blow causing the knife to jam into her left shoulderblade. Stuck, there, she pivots around, unintentionally depriving Adenn of his knife. "You PIG!" turning around on Adenn, doubled in pain, she slams a knucklette covered fist into chest. "Don't you ow.. ow..." grunting she tries kneeing him in the groin, then follows with a set of boxing punces at his head. "how to treat a lady?" As she engages Adenn, furiously punching at him with her good arm, R3-N0 quietly steps behind the barkeep, crouched low to avoid the bellowing smoke, and with a disdaining look, aims to skewer him from behind, right through the chest on his force pike. <>
  18. "I'm sorry we couldn't see eye to eye." The Force pike lowers to R3-N0's side, his eyes locked on Adenn, one hand sliding to his side, giving the most descrete of hand signals. "RU-D3, pay the keep for the Tatooine Sunburn and let's roll." With that, violence errupted around Adenn with overwhelming force as RU-D3 silently complies, using a pocket lighter concealed in one hand to light his drink, and fling the improved molotov cocktail behind the counter into the racks of alcohol and other flammable beverages aimed at igniting the whole area behind the counter- and Adenn R3-N0 at that exact moment drops, performing a splits and thrusts his custom forcepike, used by Imperial troops sometimes to breach ship hulls, through the bar itself- aiming to break whatever gun or weapon Adenn had behind the counter, and gore Adenn himself for good measure. At that same time as the other two, the Black Sun troops, all 20 of them act. Four cover two of the exits to the bar, keeping their blaster rifles pointed at the crowd to keep them in line. Eight fire on Adenn, sending out immediate streams of red fire- two aiming through the counter alongside R3-N0, four alongside Adenn's current position, adding to the inferno RU-D3 sparked. One more aims to the side across the counter top at Adenn himself, his blast streaking dead on for Adenn's chest and center of mass, and the last sends his promptly aimed blaster shot streaking across the bar, due to blast apart Adenn's head in a split second. The remaining seven take positions around the bar, trying to keep others from acting as heroes, also pulling out their vibroshivs to ward off those who felt like a bum rush might be in order- or throw as needed. The last Black Sun heavy sends out a split second signal on his comm, letting command know that things deteriorated to "aggressive negotations" and that control would be needed shortly- for rioters or any Hutts arriving to stop Black Sun from taking over the whole of Mos Eisley. 3L-3N4, left out of the attack, merely dances in cheers, throwing her vibro knuckles in the air. "Go Black Sun! You mess with us and you'll get burned! Wooo hooo!" <>
  19. "Hey! He's threatening us! He-" "At ease, 3L-3N4," R3-N0 says, holding one arm out to stop her from taking a rash action. "A family man, sir? I can respect that, but you also have to understand that Mr. Daisaku is interested in running Tatooine, which means running Mos Eisley, and that means making it known at Mos Eisley's heart, your bar, that he's in charge." R3-N0 glances down, noting the position of the man's hands, the tightening of the muscles on the forearms and the position of the hands. He suspected a gun under the bar, ready to fire through it. "No one wants this to get ugly. No collections, or insurance. We're too classy for that type of operation. We want an oath of feailty to Black Sun and to let it be known that Mr. Daisaku's friends are welcome here and his enemies are not, which includes the Hutts." R3-N0 seems to take a more relaxed poise, resting his forcepike on his shoulder, though his eyes are fixed on Adenn. 3L-3N4 stands ready to use her knucklets. RU-D3 merely pours himself another drink. "Besides, it keeps us from having to take messy options, like sending Black Sun's little armada of ships from razing Mos Eisley to the ground to send a message or dropping a Midsengard sized plate on it from above."
  20. At the challenge, Agent 3L-3N4 hops to, ready to enter combat, only to be stopped by R3-N0 with the extension of his force pike. "At ease," he directs, fluidly rising to his feet. "Stay cool EL-3N4." With RU-D3 at his side, he approaches the challenger. "Mr. Daisaku sent us here to see that the bar was in capable hands. He has faith in our ability to keep things in line, and ah... stay cool under pressure. I hope you don't have a problem with the way we do things around here?" At that, the Black Sun squad that followed the trio into the bar fix their guns on Adenn, while others keep an eye out around the bar for other heroes and troublemakers. 3L-3N4 stands to rise, polishing her knucklets, sensing impending violence.
  21. Three Black Sun agents stroll down the streets of Mos Eisley with a score of armed troops. Agents R3-N0, 3L-3N4, and RU-D3, armed with a force pike and two pairs of stun knuckles respectively (at least outwardly- vibro-shivs and blasters were probably hidden underneath), lead the way, causing the populace of the spaceport to clear out of their way as they boldly enter the Cantina. If the spaceport was a hive of scum and villainy, and the cantina was its heart, the appearance of these three operatives made it classier but far more villainous. R3-N0 points with his force pike and dispatches two men to walk over to the counter, then sits in a corner booth. Agent RU-D3 follows, with the third agent, 3L-3N4 following behind, glaring at the patrons. R3-N0 motions for her to relax, then, when firmly seated and with a refreshing Tatooine Sunburn in his hand, R3-N0 makes an announcement. "Mr. Daisaku of Black Sun has asked us to see that this place is brought under new management. He requests you all have a drink on himand toast to Black Sun's new fortunes on Tatooine." Under the guns of the nameless Black Sun heavies that followed the three agents, the bar gives a resounding cheer to "Smash Daisaku!" and "Black Sun!" following EL-3N4's lead. Graciously, the drinks are credited to a private Black Sun expense account. RU-D3, normally silent, raises his glass afterwards, watching a few people try to slink out from behind his shades, motioning for one heavy to follow and watch the news of this very direct challenge circulate around Mos Eisley. ".... Cheers."
  22. A dozen and a half Black Sun Operatives, brought in with Admiral Starlisk's change over and new recruitment for workers onto the shipyards, start their own work alongside the workers for the Galactic Republic. Sensing the opportunity from this change over in management, they start to purloin equipment and data for sale on the black market, using very, very careful double-book accounting, coded signals, and an interlaced network of 3 agent cells, with only one agent in a cell knowing the another agent in the other 5 cells to discretely obtain materials and data and smuggle it out of the shipyards. While this continued theft has minimal, if any noticeable impact on the shipyards due to the operatives careful and selective nature of their theft and the means of covering it up, it does help Black Sun make a fair sized amount of money, free of income and sales tax.
  23. A massive courtyard, covered in an enormous synthetic dome comprised the center of the administrative compound on Fondor. Atop the dome was featured the emblem of the Black Sun. A long, high scaffold stood in the middle of the yard. Three Rodian women and over a dozen Bothan men filled every space, hands and feet bound, nooses snug around their necks, with dingy sacks covering each worry-stricken face. Some wept piteously; most were only terrified. The man called Josef, hailed from Coruscant. He was a staunchly racist character, and a loyal agent of the Black Sun, fully tenured and deemed highly reliable in making problems disappear. His new assistant was a young Corellian named Boris, a lad eager to see the giant starships constructed in the shipyards of Fondor. He was fascinated with space-faring battle ships. He always had been. Josef was fascinated with cashing Black Sun checks, as he had for years, and even more entranced with persecuting foreign races in the name of Smash Daisaku and his corporate crusades, and capitalism, and zealous greed, and a love of power. Few ways were finer for exercising zealous militant power than ethnic cleansing and racial persecution. Boris was new to such fierce things. He still had his youth; his innocence. ”œFor the Black Sun!”
  24. The frame of the shipyards was beginning to take shape, with massive docks protruding from the center, soon ready to hold massive cruisers for war, and whatever else. WAR! The orbit was set mathematically, with the utmost precision, to be in line with the planet's day-to-night cycle. The shipyards would be forever encased in the darkness of the planet's shadowy side, facing away from the nearby star. It seemed sinister enough of a plan, and along the lines of typical Black Sun machinations. Near Sol Kadav, a large computer console sprang to life. A large text message floated from the left side of the screen, toward the right. INCOMING MESSAGE FOR SOL KADAV: STEWARD OF FONDOR A foot-high holographic image of a man appeared and saluted Sol Kadav. ”œLord Kadav, Steward of Fondor.”
  25. A number of dark, ominous looking, gray transports exit hyperspace, chock full of steel, weapons, and tools. Crews immediately survey the area above the world known as Fondor. It was ripe for what the Black Sun was planning. A formidable captain of the Black Sun sends a necessary communication to Sol Kadav. ”œLord Kadav. Numerous construction crews have arrived, at the command of Smash Daisaku. We have supplies as well. If only you give the command, construction will begin. Number One said that you have been set as the overseer in this project. With that, we await your orders.”
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