The way down to the lower levels was silent and rather ominous. The words of the Bith and his warnings about just how dangerous this might be were still whirring in my head. I knew this could be a lot more than I could handle, and from what the Bith told me about not even being the first out of over five hunters to die down here made me want to have some serious words with John, my "handler." This was all stinking to high heaven. John knew I was a newbie and sent me down here anyway. Sure, I chose the job, but he hadn't mentioned anything about those who had failed before me. He was seriously just going to chuck me down here without any warning? And the pay. That was sitting weird with me. I had a feeling that something was majorly wrong in that Guild building. John had been very cold, but I had assumed that was just who he was. Sending me into this without warning, though, wasn't just negligence — it was practically malicious.
Once I turned the first corner and was out of sight from everyone, I activated my invisibility. The skill settled over me like a warm blanket — nice and comforting. It wouldn't fool IR scanners or other advanced detection methods, so I'd have to be careful. Luckily, I had something perfect for scanning the way ahead.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my drone. There was no way it should have fit in there, and it was weird watching it emerge, but I grinned. My carrying capacity made me feel like a true RPG hero. This was my first major quest. That theft job had been a tutorial. Now it was time for something real.
Alpha activated the drone, and it lifted off my hand, scanning ahead. Its black form was practically invisible in the darkness; the only problem was the shadows cast by the dim stairway lighting. My boots thumped softly on the steps, taking each one only after Alpha confirmed the absence of booby traps or sensors. I frowned as I heard my own steps and activated the shadow cloak. My movements and breaths muffled, the shadows now seemed more inviting than threatening. I pressed on, level after level, each descent heavier than the last.
Three levels down, the first sign of the gang appeared: a single remote camera. Alpha chimed in, confirming it was wireless, meaning it linked into the system. With line of sight secured, Alpha started hacking. The process was quick; apparently, the security systems in this universe weren't as impressive as the ever-evolving systems in CP 2077, which were actively required to defend against constantly advancing netrunners. That just meant Alpha was in their base in an instant. We started discussing the systems they had access to.
Apparently, they only controlled the cameras around the base for now. Better than nothing, but if we wanted more access, we'd need to interface with a turret. Hopefully, it would be on a wireless system we could hack; in the worst case, I could jack in and Alpha could upload a virus to shut it down.
But it was nothing to scoff at. Having access to the camera system was a major advantage. Still, I had to be cautious. While I could see them, they could also see the feeds. Alpha could shut the cameras down, but that would be more of a detriment to me than to the gang — I'd lose my eyes on them while they remained oblivious to my presence. We decided to leave the cameras running, letting our targets think everything was proceeding as normal.
But the immediate problem was the camera in front of me. Alpha scanned what it was relaying to the control center and reassured me that it was only a visible spectrum feed. My invisibility would work against it, no problem. I shook out my arms and shoulders, bracing myself, and stepped out around the corner into its range. Now all I could do was hope Alpha was right, and that the base wasn't now preparing for me in ways I hadn't anticipated.
The deeper I went, the more cameras and sensors began popping up. Alpha did what Alpha does best, spoofing some IR scanners that would have detected me, looping their feed just long enough for me to pass. They even caught a tripwire I had missed. I froze for a moment, chest tight, heart hammering, and judged myself harshly. I had to be more careful in the future — one slip now could make my life a lot harder, maybe even end it before it truly began.
I stepped over the trip wire and Alpha confirmed that their behaviours hadn't changed, they were still unaware of me… for now.
When I finally reached the seventh floor, I found myself peeking around the corner into an open space. It was a large courtyard with a number of alleys branching off in various directions. The courtyard was a practical kill zone. Cameras, turrets, and scattered cover littered the far side—a perfect defensive setup. The defenders would have cover and support, while anyone approaching would be exposed to crossfire and locked on from multiple angles.
Five guards were outside, mingling near a small fire where some flavoured meat was cooking. They weren't overly attentive to the entrance, only glancing around occasionally, probably relying more on the security sensors than their own eyes. They appeared calm, at ease, but each had a weapon ready. Alpha identified them as semi-auto carbines, not cheap blasters, after a quick search for their model online.
I was more grateful than ever for my invisibility. Without it, this would be an absolute gauntlet. According to Alpha's feeds from the camera system, any fight here would trigger reinforcements from inside the base within seconds. Sound would carry, the cameras would record everything in the courtyard, and backup would emerge almost instantly. Opening a fight here would be suicide—too much firepower and too little cover.
I paused, considering my approach. My best option was careful movement, avoiding confrontation, and only taking down isolated targets if the opportunity arose. I figured the defences were focused outward, so starting from the rear might give me better odds. I just had to avoid getting stuck in a corner or a dead end. I trusted my invisibility, but I also assumed it wasn't infallible. Blind reliance on it would be foolish. I would move as though I were visible and only rely on the cloak when absolutely necessary.
Alpha waited until the guards weren't watching my entry point, then moved. The drone rose silently to the high ceiling, swallowed by the shadows, and stayed there to observe the guards. It would alert me immediately if anyone moved or if an alarm triggered. With the cameras under our control, Alpha could track the guards' positions—at least the ones in view of the cameras. Most were pointed outward, but a few monitored two specific interior doors I'd need to check once the base was cleared. The camera coverage was concerning; it left gaps in the base, meaning I couldn't get an accurate read on the total number of gang members or their exact locations inside. Every unseen corner could hide trouble, and I knew I had to move with extreme caution.
One last task remained: dealing with the turrets. Two were visible in the courtyard, one on either side, with wide firing arcs, peeking over their own cover. They were perfectly placed. I had no idea if more were inside, but these two alone were enough to make me cautious. Alpha tried to interface with them immediately, but they were hardwired into the defence system—no wireless access. I would need a hard link to gain control. Thankfully, all the turrets in the base would be interconnected. Accessing one would give us access to all.
I edged carefully around the courtyard toward the right turret, keeping low. Alpha searched the Holonet and fed me details: the turrets only had standard cameras, meaning my invisibility would work. The system required manually tagging friends and foes—anyone not marked as a friend would be dealt with automatically once activated. Things were working in my favour for now, but I could feel it wouldn't stay this easy forever.
Finally, I let out a quiet, controlled breath behind the turret. I pulled the cable from my wrist and paused at the connector. It was different from any I'd used before. My gut tightened. Whatever entity or god was controlling the Gatcha was altering the adapter to match whatever port I encountered, without my noticing. It was unnerving; the expanded pockets could be waved off as stable dimensional shenanigans, but the connector always being changed to be correct? That was… unsettling. I shook off the existential pang and plugged in, giving Alpha direct access.
Thanks to the design of the turrets, all four of them were now under our control. Alpha could manipulate them directly, flipping blacklists and whitelists. They wouldn't fire until activated, but once they did, any gang members would be targeted while I remained safe, provided no one manually overrode them. I smirked. Their systems were gradually opening up to me, and the more careful, silent, and deliberate I stayed, the better my chances of navigating this base unscathed.
The easy way into the base, tucked just behind the group of five, was an open door. That worked beautifully for me. It meant I could—at least in theory—just waltz right in. Not that I would. No, I'd be sneaking. Carefully. Very carefully. The interior of the base was an unknown, and unknowns meant danger.
Alpha kept a digital eye on the guards while I positioned myself closer. They would also serve as my early-warning system; if the group outside suddenly got jumpy, I'd know I'd been made. For now, Alpha was waiting for someone to activate their local comms. As soon as one of the guards powered up a commlink, Alpha could piggyback on the signal and seize control of the frequency. Until then, we were blind to their chatter. Luckily, it was only a matter of time.
Things were looking up. I hadn't fired a single shot, but progress was already stacking in my favour. The turrets were under our control, the cameras bent to our will, and invisibility—while not something I blindly trusted—gave me leeway. With patience, I could take this gang apart piece by piece. I just had to be careful.
With deliberate steps, I slipped past the distracted guards and pressed to the door. Peeking around the corner, I found another wide, open chamber. An old warehouse, judging by the rusted shelving still clinging to the walls. Most of it looked ready to collapse under its own weight, so the gang had sensibly stacked their crates in messy piles to the right. At the back of the room lounged three more guards—two men and a woman—parked on mismatched couches with drinks in hand. That brought my running tally to eight.
These three were out of my reach. No clean way to take them without the others raising the alarm. I suppressed a sigh and kept moving. Two options presented themselves: a corridor to the left, another to the right. I nudged Alpha for schematics, but they came back with a shake of the head. Nothing. Whatever plans had once been on file were scrubbed clean. Either the gang had a slicer in their ranks or they'd paid for one. Just like the Bith had said, professional.
I made a snap decision. Treat it like a dungeon crawl. Always go left.
Creeping down the passage, I kept to the corners, peering ahead before stepping out, listening carefully at each door as I passed; all were quiet. The corridor was empty. One turn, then another, then a third. Still nothing. Either the gang members were deeper in, or this wing was a dead end. I was getting frustrated at this seeming maze when I heard them—voices. Footsteps.
Two guards, side by side, coming my way. Kriff. The corridor was too narrow; there was no slipping by untouched. They'd walk straight into me. My only option was to retreat.
I moved quickly but carefully, retracing my steps. The corridor offered no open side rooms to vanish into, and the pair of gangoons kept pace behind me, unaware they were blocking their own hallway for an assailant to pass. By the time I reached the warehouse again, I'd lost ground but kept my cover.
I held position in the open space, ready to dart whichever way I needed if they changed course. Instead, the pair drifted over to join the lounging trio, folding into the couch circle with their drinks. I shook my head and let out a breath.
I really wanted to sigh, but held it in. Let's try that again.
I kept my pace slow, corner by corner, forcing myself to resist the urge to speed up and claw back the time I'd lost. Rushing would just get me killed. When I finally turned the last corner of the left path, I found myself staring at one of the doors I'd seen flagged on the security feed. Constant surveillance meant this was either the boss's office, the loot stash, or the security room itself. Couldn't think of many other reasons to babysit a door twenty-four-seven.
I froze, weighing the risks. The camera covering this one wasn't like the others—it was newer, probably looted from one of the stalls upstairs. Not cutting-edge, but advanced enough to make me second-guess. Still, it shouldn't be able to pick up on me simply listening. After a moment's hesitation, I crept forward, pressed my ear to the metal. Nothing. No clicking keys, no snoring, no voices. Which told me precisely kriff all. Alpha could loop the feed, but if there was someone in there, my cover would be blown. I decided not to risk it; there were still too many guards in unknown places.
And worse—this was a dead end. Nowhere to fall back if my invisibility broke. No cover, no exits. If the gangoons pushed me into a corner here, I'd be bantha fodder. Not exactly the kind of place I wanted to stage my grand assault.
Frustration boiled under my skin. All that time wasted. I closed my eyes, inhaled slowly, forcing the anger down. Don't lose the initiative. Don't get reckless. Discipline, not impulse. When I opened my eyes, I turned away from the door and retraced my steps back toward the warehouse.
The right-hand passage was just as quiet as the left—at first. Three corridors in, I found an open doorway. A sleeping quarters. Inside, three bodies lay sprawled across cots, dead to the world. Opportunity.
I slipped inside, silent as a shadow, and drew the Bowie knife that came bundled with my wastelander survival kit. The thing was pretty in a utilitarian way—nearly a foot of blade, with a plastic ergonomic grip built for use, not show. Not a vibroknife (another oversight for the shopping list), but sharp enough for the work ahead.
I paused beside the backmost sleeper, crouched, and steeled myself. My heart clenched. Was I really about to do this? Killing someone in their sleep, cold blood—it wasn't a fight, wasn't survival. This was murder. The Zabrak in the alley had been different. That was self-defence. This? This was a sanctioned execution, requested by the government, dressed up in legitimacy but no less bloody for it.
I tried to dull my panic, but I couldn't erase it. For a moment, I nearly froze, knife hovering inches above the human's throat. I closed my eyes, swallowed the bile, and forced myself to remember: this wasn't Earth. This galaxy wasn't soft. I'd made my choices, and this was where they led. I opened my eyes, hard now, and committed.
The blade slid in. My hand clamped over his mouth. His eyes flew open, meeting mine, wide with pain and shock. My invisibility shattered the instant I attacked. I tried to trigger it again, over and over, anything to focus my mind away from the thrashing. Eventually, mercifully, the body went still. Invisibility wrapped me again. I closed his now blank eyes, rolled him onto his side, and pulled the blanket up to hide the wound.
Two more.
When I stepped out of the sleeping quarters, my boots felt heavier. The act had carved something into me. Changed me. I forced down the whirlwind in my head with sheer willpower. Reflection could come later—if I survived. That made three down. Now I just had to hope nobody tried to wake them before I was finished.
The corridor stretched on, leading to another bunkroom—ten beds, all empty. I passed through quickly, tallying my enemies in my head: five outside, three on the couches, two patrolling the hall, now three dead in their sleep. Thirteen accounted for. Which begged the question: where were the rest?
The passage opened into a fork. One way ended in another door watched by a camera—important, certainly, but the same problem as before. I couldn't risk poking inside; if it was the security hub, someone would be alerted by the door opening, and I'd blow everything.
So I turned the other way.
The corridor spilled me out into another wide courtyard. And there it was: the second gauntlet. Five guards, spread across barricades, weapons within easy reach. Two more turrets positioned just like the first courtyard. Same setup, same perfect kill zone. Apparently, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.
I kept low, circling the edge, scanning angles. The turrets worked to my advantage this time: if reinforcements came barreling after me, the automated defences would shred them the instant they stepped through the doorway. The five here, though, were positioned beyond the turrets' firing arcs. Which meant no easy solution. I'd have to deal with them myself.
My pulse spiked. My nerves were fraying, the weight of the killing pressing in. I kept my mind steady enough to move, but I could feel the cracks forming in my will. I forced my mind back to the task. Focus.
I crept to the far side. The exit loomed, tantalizingly close. And locked. Kriff.
The door was shut tight, and I couldn't open it without the guards knowing something was up. That meant my sneaking spree had hit its limit. The quiet approach was done.
It was time to go loud.
Now I just had to figure out the best way to do it.
I considered not only my options, but my perks, my gear. Slowly, carefully, I went over the skills in my head. I settled on my Bloodlust skill, my novice shooting skill, and the .44 Magnum revolver still waiting in the card in my pocket. I could do this. The Magnum's firing rate was quick—faster than a blaster, and, more importantly, it wouldn't give away my position with bright, neon-colored bolts screaming across the room.
I searched the space for any kind of high vantage point, something that would let me stay out of immediate sight and let the shadows work in my favour. Nothing. The walls were bare and bland, no catwalks, no scaffolding, no convenient ledges. Disappointing. That left me with fewer options: attack from behind in close quarters, open with headshots(Hopefully), and then finish with melee before they could gather their wits. A mix of martial arts and my lightning claws should make short work of them.
The risk was obvious. If anyone came through the closed doorway behind me, I'd be exposed, back wide open. Attacking from the front wasn't any better—no cover, and the five guards clustered together would have every advantage. Either way, there was risk. Still, I needed to start somewhere, and before anything else, the turrets had to come online. I couldn't trust that there was anyone in the security room willing to flip them on for me. Manually would have to do.
I pulled the Magnum into existence from the card in my pocket and moved toward the turret on the left side of the courtyard. It was closer to the group of guards, which meant if this went bad—and it probably would—I'd be positioned to respond faster.
I jacked into the turret and enabled all four. Then, without hesitating, I vaulted the barricade and sprinted toward the group, Magnum raised.
Three sharp cracks thundered in the enclosed space. One round blew through a skull, the second tore through a throat, the third missed entirely. The remaining thugs flinched at the sudden, alien noise. Probably never even heard a slugthrower before—too rare in this galaxy. But by then, I was already in melee range, and my invisibility had dropped. Wide, startled eyes locked onto my visor, but I didn't let the loss of stealth slow me.
The electrified claws burst from my gloved hands with a hiss, and I slashed fast, efficient. Two throats opened, and one heart was pierced. The men dropped in choking silence.
I re-engaged invisibility instantly. Reinforcements hadn't had time to respond yet—lucky me. Not that I had long to breathe.
The five drinkers from the couches came pouring into the courtyard… and were shredded before I even blinked. The turrets lit them up from both sides, crossfire chewing them apart in seconds. I didn't need to raise a hand. Just like that—dead.
And that's when the door behind me burst open. I hadn't been paying attention. Sloppy.
A massive weight slammed into my back, driving me flat onto the floor. Invisibility shattered. My helmet rang as a clawed hand smashed my head into the ground, vision swimming. A Trandoshan. Big one.
I thrashed, wild and useless, until my Gatcha given training surged to the front. Legs twisted, arms pivoted, and I bucked him off me, just enough space to roll. A blaster pistol levelled at my chest. I rolled again. The bolt seared my arm instead of my torso, armour sizzling and smoking. White-hot pain tore through me. My left arm was now useless.
But my right hand still clutched the Magnum.
I pulled the trigger three times, emptying the revolver, rounds slamming into the lizard's gut. He roared, staggered, but stayed upright. I planted both boots against the wounds and kicked with everything I had, forcing him backwards, buying space.
I yanked out my standard blaster pistol and fired point-blank into his face. The Trandoshan dropped, heavy and final. I double-tapped for good measure—no way was I trusting a species that hardy to just stay down.
My arm screamed at me, smoke still curling off the burn. I grit my teeth and reached into my Fallout gear card, pulling out a stimpack. One of ten—now nine. I jammed it into the wound. Relief bled in, the pain fading, the muscles knitting just enough to move again. Superficial now. Good enough.
Blasterfire scorched the wall near me, forcing me to duck behind the doorway. Alpha's voice chimed in my head: the five guards from the front had abandoned their posts. They were coming. I'd been pincered. It was inevitable, but still sucked.
I was stuck in the middle. Fire pouring through the front, enemies advancing from the back.
I triggered invisibility again, reloading the Magnum on skill granted muscle memory while scanning for an advantage. The turrets. They still had my back, at least for the first few seconds. I sprinted to the nearest, putting it between me and the front entrance, lining up a shot on the rear door.
Perfect timing.
The first ganger burst through the front door—immediately cut down by the turret's spray. The rest hesitated at the threshold.
Another came through the back door, blaster raised, eyes darting. Two rounds to the chest from the Magnum dropped him like a marionette with its strings cut.
The turret screamed, still shooting at the front doorway, then went silent. Overheated. Kriff.
More gangers charged from the rear, and I met them with quick, brutal shots, one headshot, another miss, then the next round into the other's throat. A lucky shot. Both down, but not before a wild bolt skimmed past my left, scorching my already battered arm.
Then, silence—the second turret across the courtyard had died, too.
Now it was just me versus the front.
I holstered the Magnum and drew my blaster. Bigger magazine, more staying power. I peeked over the barricade. Four remained, spilling from the front door. Two worked with precision, targeting the far turret, while the others peppered mine. Accurate, practised. Not your average street trash.
Their shots slammed close enough to chip stone and rattle my teeth. I ducked, pinned. The turrets were slagged.
Think. Grenades would've been a godsend, but of course, I didn't have any. My best option was the side of the barricade. I rolled low, came up sideways, and fired twice. One to the leg, the next kicked up to center mass. Close to the heart. He went down, hopefully dead.
The others snapped their aim to me instantly, bolts chewing the barricade. I rolled back behind cover, heart hammering. Not good. The pair that had slagged the far turret would flank and be on me soon.
Seconds. That's all I had.
I shut my eyes, whispered a silent plea, and reactivated invisibility. I was lucky to be out of view at that moment. My body faded from sight, and I crawled backwards, keeping the barricade between me and the suppressive fire.
The flankers charged around, blasters blazing. They tore into the ground behind the barricade—but I wasn't there.
Their fire faltered. Confusion. Perfect.
I crept behind them, ghosting up to the doorway. The last two shooters were still laying down cover fire, unaware.
I raised the blaster, sighted, and fired. Two clean headshots, both collapsing mid-shot. I was too close to miss at this range.
Before their bodies hit the floor, I swung to the flankers. Two blasts, two chest shots. They crumpled.
And then—silence.
The courtyard was mine.
I moved carefully, double-tapping corpses, making sure. Then I stood still, chest heaving, counting. My kills. My choices.
Sloppy in places, sure. But I was alive. And none of them were.
I counted the dead.
I stayed crouched in the courtyard, still wrapped in the shimmer of invisibility. My breath came fast and shallow inside the helmet, but the world outside was silent—eerily so. Just the smell of ozone, blood, and burnt circuitry hanging in the air.
Alright. Time for the morbid math.
Three in their sleep earlier. Easy stabs with the Bowie. They never even knew I was there.
Five at the barricade. A mix of magnum shots and claws.
Five more, the drinkers on the couches, chewed apart by the turrets before I even had to lift a finger.
One Trandoshan bruiser. Hard kill, but still a kill.
Then three from the rear door, and one stray bolt that nearly cooked me.
And the last four, the pushers from the front. Two by the doorway, two flankers. All dead now.
I let the numbers roll in my head, each face—well, each corpse—flickering past like tally marks on some grim scoreboard.
Twenty-one.
That was the total. Twenty-one people whose last mistake was being in this base tonight.
I shifted slightly, eyes scanning for movement, but nothing stirred. For now, the base belonged to me.
Still invisible, I leaned back against the cold durasteel of the barricade. The adrenaline was fading, and the weight of twenty-one fewer beings in the universe hung heavy in the air.
I sighed. I still needed to actually clear the base…
I moved slowly, half from caution and half from being delicate. I had taken another stimpack, bringing my limited amount of life-saving medicine down to eight. It had brought my arm into rough working order, and I would recover fully with some bacta bandages after I got out of here.
I continued my work, moving through the back of the base, checking doorways, opening them carefully and never standing in front just in case there was someone eager to blast an opening door. There were none. The rooms were empty. There was a rec room with cards that had been dropped, which I assumed was where the group had been before they came at my back. As I made my way, I found nothing but the treasure room at the end. It was loaded, which made me very happy, but I wouldn't start looting until I was certain I was alone. So I left it and continued clearing.
When the back was cleared, I went back to the front, clearing the two corridors that splintered off from where there had once been five drinkers. I came upon the first of the under-surveillance doors and got Alpha to loop the footage. It might do nothing, or it might just give me the second I needed to act to save my life. The door opened, and I stood to the side. When no shots echoed out, I peeked in—it was an empty bedroom, most likely the boss's. There was a terminal that I would have to check over later, but for now, I needed to make sure the place was safe.
I made my way down the left corridor from earlier, making sure each room was empty. It took a while, but they were. Then the last room under surveillance was the security room. Also empty. It seemed that I really had gotten everyone. I jacked into the system and let Alpha do their thing.
Now that I knew for a fact that the base was empty, it was time to loot. Most of the rooms were empty. It seemed they had used the bunk rooms to sleep in, as the other rooms were very derelict. I decided to start with the boss's room. That was where things began. I made sure to search it thoroughly, as I was sure the boss would have at least one secure personal stash of credits—and I was right. There was a vault in the wall linked to the terminal. Lucky for me. Had it been a bio-lock, then I might have been out of luck, as I had no idea which goon had been the boss. But with the terminal, Alpha had it open before I could ask.
Inside, there were credits, dataslates, and info chits. I loaded the credits into my credit pouch and the data chits into another. After I had emptied the safe into my bigger-on-the-inside pockets, I was happy. I had many little ways of storing things. My belt was littered with little bags, which I was quite happy about; all of them would likely be used by the time I was done.
After the boss's room was sorted, I continued on my way. I pulled out one of my rolled-up duffel bags and started dropping blasters into it. Each corpse had at least a pistol, with most having a rifle as well. It was in the room with the three people who had been napping that I found the rotary cannon. I smirked and lowered it into the bag. It was now full, so I just prayed that my idea worked. I opened another duffel bag and dropped the first into it. There was no explosion, nor any invisible force preventing me, so I assumed it worked. I smirked. Now I could load ten duffel bags and drop them each into a single bag—a hundred duffel bags' worth of storage in a single duffel bag to carry. I was very happy with that workaround. That was why I bought eleven of the damn things.
I continued my looting of weapons and gear. The armour I left, as it was mostly worthless, but the vibro-blades, guns, and credits each person carried? Yoink.
I moved on to the security room next. The systems were mostly old, but they were still valuable, and the rare materials they were constructed from could be useful in my tinkering. Nonetheless, it was time to see what data they had. After Alpha had downloaded all of their system logs and data in the security room, we decided we would go through the info another time when we were safer than here. I made sure to take the systems that Alpha remarked would be useful for my own use. Tower after tower entered a duffel bag, and I was soon left with a room containing only the barest of tech.
The courtyard was soon emptied of everything but the burned-out turrets and bodies. I continued into the back of the complex, past the closed door that had barred me from access while I was invisible.
Here, there was the lounge with the playing cards and more bunk rooms. Past that, I entered the major loot room. There were still those crates in the storage room from when I immediately entered the base, but I would check those on my way back. My focus was solely on the loot here.
There were drugs. A lot of drugs. I wanted nothing to do with them and would just let the guild deal with it. I was more focused on the little lockbox. I had no idea what was inside, and it required a digital key—something I had found on the Trandoshan, meaning he was most likely the boss. Makes sense—they are usually the most aggressive and domineering beings in most groups. It seemed likely that he would have taken over the gang. Anyway, I used that little digital key to open the box and found gold. Actual gold. And not just a little, either—this must have contained at least 20,000 credits' worth of gold. I smiled. Fantastic. With this, the credits I had looted and the reward money, I would be able to start tinkering in earnest.
But there was still more. I started opening the various crates and was left smiling. Weapons and gear, with odd bits of tech that I realised were expensive droid components, such as extremely delicate flywheels, gyroscopes, droid joints and sensor modules. All would be able to be reused or sold for a nifty reward. All of the loot soon disappeared into my bags, leaving me with only two empty bags left. I made my way back to the front; I wanted to see what was in the other crates.
When I got there, I was eager for more credits, weapons, or components, but I was not ready for what I found. I was sure that if my helmet didn't have a filter, I would be retching and heaving. The insides were… mutilated. Bodies. And not a small amount of them. They were stuffed to the brim. I quickly reclosed the lid and moved on to the next. I had already expected it, but I wanted to make sure.
God. There were so many. It was now that I remembered the briefing and why they were listed as kill targets: kidnapping and murder. I had forgotten, and that had led me to this. I sighed and closed the last of the crates. This was a cleanup for the guild.
I left the room and made my way to the first courtyard. I looked around and remembered that I had two bags, and there were two turrets. I shrugged and loaded them up into my 9th bag. I only had a rough idea of a use for one, but I really wasn't in the mood for anything more after seeing… the remains. I just wanted to leave.
So I did. I made my way up the steps, taking time here and there to take down the cameras and IR sensors. They would come in handy in the future, but I worked in grim silence.
A/N: Hey all, thanks so much for your patience! I've finally settled in here in Victoria Falls. My family have been absolutely amazing and super supportive, which has made the transition much easier.
The good news is that updates should start coming out more steadily now that things have calmed down. I'm also able to properly reconnect with you all and your comments again — I've been completely "offline," so to speak, and I really missed that interaction.
So, here I am! In a beautiful country surrounded by wonderful people, and I just want to say thank you. Honestly, if it weren't for my hunger to write (and for all of you who read along), I doubt I'd even be here today.
Also, a shout out to Vintus for the donation, this chapter is for you!
Thank you for reading everyone