# Trigger Control



## Peterson (Jun 22, 2006)

_ “It started seven years ago, in a tiny, red-stained Frontier town called Flatstone, on the crap-hole Frontier planet of Sorrow.  Many people, some smarter than me, have remarked at the irony of the planet’s name, but I digress.  
A small military squad, from the Mycabri-Vic’Tarian Alliance, was tasked to extradite Flatstone’s Foreman, a Colonist who had knowledge of the Humans’ advanced weaponry.  It ended in what could barely be called a bloodbath, with only eleven dead and several more wounded.  
Worse though, it ended the Human Conflict, the name given to a series of some skirmishes between the Collective and the Mycabri-Vic’Tarian Alliance.
Even worse, it gave birth to the Border Wars – a ‘verse-spanning, trans-species war that lasted seven bloody years.
Amazing, isn’t it, that something so small, so insignificant, could launch one of the most devastating wars in any species’ history….”_
				-Speech excerpt from Shar’Lan Bloodbrother of the Quickclaw Clan

_”Gorramit boy, do you actually believe the war is over?  Them damn natives never signed a treaty or nothing.  This ain’t nothing but a cease-fire, mark my words…”_
				-Overheard at The Dry Gulch Tavern, Jovanni Tist, Collective Marine Corps deserter, currently serving as a Commerce Alliance Regulator 


*Session One: This is gonna hurt…*

Another laser blast slammed into the wall, just inches from the corner two Mycabri have taken refuge. _This was supposed to be an easy mission - just a Verify and Chat_, Dhran Hunter of the Caixa Clan thought to himself, _but it's turning into a mini-war._ 
The two Mycabri, freshly discharged from the Mycab Sector Military and in the employ for the Caixa Clan, found themselves against the elite - and near-mortal enemies of the Mycabri race - Collective Marine Corps (CMC for short)….and they found themselves slightly outgunned.


*Around the corner to the right, and just thirty feet down the hallway - at another hallway interjection….*

4 CMC Assault Troopers, armed with laser rifles are firing bursts of deadly energy towards the apartment building’s only elevator.  Unfortunately, for the two Mycabri, the CMC troopers are on the opposite side of their objective – a simple apartment door, about midway down the now-sizzling hallway.


*Three floors below…*

Two solidly-built humans, dressed in long brown dusters and wearing the wide-brimmed hats pulled down low over their eyes, casually stroll towards the apartment building’s only elevator, their boots clinking metallically as the spurs strike the hard stone floor.  The few people – humans – that are scattered around the apartment building’s lobby do their best to avoid eye contact with these agents of the Commerce Alliance, fearful, as evidenced by their body language.


*In Apartment 315…*

_“They’re outside the door!”_ the young female human, mid-twenties and having taken refuge behind a large couch, screamed, her voice scared.  A human male, a twig of a man wearing jeans and a dirty t-shirt, crouched behind the nearby breakfast bar, his face more or less calm and the small pistol in his hand steady.
_“Quiet Charisma, or they are bound to hear you…”_ he whispered hoarsely, his eyes – one blue, the other brown – scanning under the apartment’s only exit…into the hallway of laser fire.



Dhran glanced about his surroundings, taking stock of their options.  _Exits.  Need to mark exits,_ the Mycabri thought to himself.  The hallway he – and his cousin, Mont Hunter of the Caixa Clan, were currently occupying was dead-ended.  True, there was a large plasti-steel window at the far end (along with a thirty-plus foot drop), but he didn’t like that option.  There were three doors on the left of the hallway, indicating apartments, while only one door set along the right wall.  _None of those were good options,_ he thought, shaking his head slightly – his dull mono-colored Honor Beads clanking together gently.  He knew they could always go back the way they came, to the elevator, but the adjoining hallway was exposed to fire – and of course, those CMC troopers were holed up near the emergency stairwell.  _No good options…_

_Might be our best option,_ Mont Hunter of the Caixa Clan, the second Mycabri, thought to himself as he considered the situation his cousin – Dhran – were in.  Mont looked to his partner, then made a series of hand gestures: index finger pointed to his smoke grenade; index finger pointed to himself; a flat hand sweeps out; another index finger pointed to Dhran, followed closely by a closed fist.

Dhran understood.  Smoke the hallway, and while Mont charged out into the exposed hallway, Dhran was to provide cover fire with his Grayhawk pistol.  It wasn’t exactly tactically sound, but it might be their only real option.  _A strong offense and all that jazz…_  With a nod that said _Ready_ from Mont, Dhran leaned out around the corner and pulled the trigger – Mont’s smoke grenade soaring over the other Mycabri’s head.

The grenade flew true, twenty feet down, and bouncing a few times before finally rolling to a stop.  With a soft pop, thick white smoke began to pour out of the grenade, already providing good concealment.  Dhran’s shot wasn’t as nicely executed, pinging hard into the wall, harmless.  Both Mycabri ducked back behind the corner though, as the hallway is lit up with laser blasts and curses from the CMC troopers.  Suddenly, the laserfire stopped – and the Mycabri could barely make out what sounded like frantic reloading….

_Nothing to it but to do it _ Mont thought to himself as he threw himself into the hallway and charged towards the smoke - and towards the CMC soldiers....


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## kroh (Jun 22, 2006)

NICE!

Regards,
Walt


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## ledded (Jun 23, 2006)

Hmmm... yummy.

Methinks I like where this is going;  keep up the good work, man.

I gotta get crackin' on a story hour soon, I miss writing 'em.


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## Peterson (Jun 26, 2006)

The elevator doors slid open, silently, ominously.  The two men stepped in without hurry, without a care, only their eyes showed their emotion.  It was excitement.  The slightly taller human reached forward and poked a button on the lift’s controls.  The number 3 glowed a dim yellow, and the doors slid shut, silently, ominously.


Dharn leaned his upper body out from cover, using the side of the wall as a brace, as he fired a quick shot into the smoke.  The projectile left the suppressed barrel with a _pop_, only to slam hard – and ineffectively – into the wall.


Two of the four CMC troopers were busy reloading their laser rifles, trying to make as much noise as they could, while the other two were closing the trap.  One trooper went prone and began, slowly, crawling his way into the smoke – the other soldier kneeling just behind his prone partner, aiming his rifle into the smoke.  He could hold this position for hours, if he ha – 

*Thud*.  The only warning the kneeling trooper got was when the bullet impacted into the wall, mere inches from his face.  Pure reflex took over, as he jerked his head back, letting a loud gasp of air expel from his lungs as he drove for cover – leaving his partner – the prone, crawling soldier – alone.


Mont stormed into the thick smoke, stretching his tremorsense ability to its limits, as he ran.  That tremorsense would give him a huge advantage in this smoke, especially when he engaged the soldiers in hand-to-hand combat.  _There!_ his extraordinary sense screamed,  _to the right, five feet away, and prone._.  Mont realized he was moving too quickly. Without thinking, the Mycabri threw his upper weight backward, dropping into a feet-first power slide. As he passed the trooper, both of them now prone, Mont reached out and grabbed a hold of the soldier, breaking his slide. Using the forward momentum, Mont brought his head forward, fast, and sunk his fangs deep into his enemy's armored shoulder. Another flex of specialized muscles near the fangs injected a powerful venom...


The prone CMC trooper never even saw the native come sliding through the opaque smoke, until it slammed into him.  He felt the deadly teeth sink into his armor, but it held – he’d only have a bruise there, thankfully.  He had heard stories that the venom of the Mycabri could render a person paralyzed for life, and didn’t wish to find out first-hand.  Shaking himself back to the present, the soldier pushed his attacker off of him with one hand, and drew out his high-frequency dagger from his thigh sheath.  While he couldn’t really see where the native was, he had a good guess – a guess that was confirmed when his wild strike cut deep into the Mycabri’s stomach.  With triumph evident in his voice, he yelled into his comm.-unit _”Native, starboard, thigh-high!”_


Confused, and hurt, Mont looked around – uselessly, thanks to the smoke.  However, his tremorsense managed to catch the faint movements of another soldier, slightly more than 5’ away, moving into a firing position – and Mont’s ears easily detected the pitched whine a laser rifle makes right before it fires…


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## Roudi (Jun 26, 2006)

Hope that Mont gets out of this alive...

Hope he also doesn't do anything stupid that might endanger his partner...


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## Peterson (Jun 26, 2006)

*A reply*



			
				Roudi said:
			
		

> Hope that Mont gets out of this alive...
> 
> Hope he also doesn't do anything stupid that might endanger his partner...




Well, one of those is true....

Folks, meet the player of Mont.  Take a bow, Roudi.

Also, the character of Dhran is played by kroh.  Go ahead, you can clap.

Wish these guys luck, cause I don't think they know what they've gotten themselves into.

Now, back to the story!

Peterson


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## Peterson (Jun 26, 2006)

_Sir, Alpha Element reports hostiles in the hallway of the objective.

Yes, I realize this.  Tell them to eliminate all hostiles if possible.  However, I want them to pull out if any of them get hurt – I don’t need my men dying over this, especially when we have the situation already secured.  Have them regroup at Rendezvous-3.

Yes sir.  I’ll relay that information right away. _


The soldier was still picking himself up from his hasty dive to cover when his partner’s voice came over the comm.-unit.  _”Native, starboard, thigh-high!”_.  Without hesitation, the soldier spun around the corner and pressed the trigger on his laser rifle…


Mont didn’t have time to react.  The laser rifle loosened a burst of laser bolts – deadly energy that streaked down the hallway…and slammed into the wall opposite of Mont.  The soldier had missed completely!  Mont hissed at the still-prone CMC trooper – the one that tried to gut him, but failed.  _”You’ll die on your belly, you CMC sonuvarayne.._.


*Ding!* The sound didn’t fit in, was too different from the high-pitched laser blasts, the muffled pops from the Grayhawks, the slight hiss from the grenade still releasing its smoke.  Dhran risked a glance down towards the elevators, the direction the sound came from – the sound of the elevator doors opening.  _”This *isn’t* happening….”_


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## kroh (Jun 26, 2006)

Do we have a way to pronounce "Aw man this is going to hurt..." In Mycabri?

Regards, 
Walt


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## Peterson (Jun 26, 2006)

Nah, its just one of those "you understood" implied things.

LOL

Peterson


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## Peterson (Jun 26, 2006)

Dhran had a decision to make, and quickly.  Did he provide cover fire to Mont, or did he engage the Commerce Alliance agents that were strolling towards him?  _Clan first_, Dhran thought to himself, as he turned away from the approaching duo and focused in on the smoke.  _”Mont, head for the door, I’ll cover.”_ Dhran called out to his cousin as he fired a round down the hallway, into the thick smoke.  He grimaced as he heard the dull *thud* as the round smacked, again, into the wall.  Deciding he was too far away to be effective, and hoping the smoke would give him some concealment against the new threat, Dhran plunged forward into the smoke.


Mont left the CMC trooper on the floor, prone, as the Mycabri began to search for the apartment door.  The thick, white smoke made it difficult to locate the door, but Mont discovered it never the less.  Come on, be unlocked…he thought to himself as he tried the doorknob.  It turned easily.  The gray-skinned alien shouldered the door open, taking in the room – and its occupants – quickly.

A single, scared female human, only about two years older than Mont, hid behind a long couch, her eyes just visible over the back.  Crouched behind a long breakfast bar about ten feet away and to the left of the Mycabri, a fairly calm-looking twig of a male human in jeans and a dirty t-shirt saw the gray-skinned alien move into the apartment, a large pistol in its hands. In his (the human’s) hands, he held only a small pistol. He popped it up – in the general direction of the Mycabri, but his aim waivers, his confidence quickly fading by the looks of it....

Mont saw the armed human as soon as he entered, and brought his Grayhawk up to bear.  His other hand, almost casually, plucked a fragmentation grenade of his mesh vest, and tossed it down the hall – towards the CMC troopers.  Despite the concealing smoke, and the off-hand manner in which Mont threw the grenade, it lands true.


Dhran hadn’t found the door as much as he “felt” – thanks to tremorsense – Mont move past him and into the apartment.  Despite the fact that he stood fully in the doorway, Dhran failed to notice the grenade arc over his shoulder and out into the hallway…


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## Peterson (Jul 7, 2006)

The prone soldier wasn’t about to sheath his dagger, despite the fact that the Mycabri disappeared.  No, it could come back at any moment, and the human didn’t feel like getting caught unarmed again.  He also didn’t dare move, dare make a sound, in case the blasted native heard him.  No, he would just wait for the smoke to clea…


The grenade bounced lightly off the wall and rolled to a stop with a soft _clink_ against the prone CMC trooper’s armor.  He barely had time to register what it was when it exploded.


Shrapnel – hot, high velocity shrapnel – flew in every direction.  The prone CMC soldier was torn into, perforated.  He died instantly.  The three remaining troopers, having some cover due to the hallway’s crossway, managed to get out of the way of most of the fragments.  All three were hurt, their armor probably the only thing that saved them from instant death.


Mont never realized he was still within the burst radius of the deadly fragmentation grenade.  He swore as burning metal tore through his armor, penetrating his flesh.  


Dhran was moving off to the side of the doorway, already inside the apartment, when the grenade went off.  Most of the fragments buried themselves into the door and doorframe, but more than a few sliced deep into Dhran, causing him to stagger slightly.


The three seriously injured soldiers retreated into the emergency stairwell, two of them dragging their deceased brethren.  Dhran could hear this, despite the ringing in his ears, and he could also – easily – hear the metal jingle of spurs, approaching from down the hall.  _Well, it worked for Mont_, he thought to himself as he removed his fragmentation grenade from his combat webbing, _maybe I’ll get lucky too._  He pulled the pin and tossed it toward the sound of the advancing Commerce Alliance agents – the Regulators.  Smartly, Dhran also closed the door after throwing the explosive device.


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## Peterson (Jul 7, 2006)

Session #2: Grenades…when you care to send only the best.

_”Well, first off, you should know something about the Commerce Alliance. Its powerful. Immensely so. What started as a joint business venture between two (of the four) R'll Clans, has grown into a superpower that spans the 'verse. For the longest time - and still, but to a lesser point, thanks to the Sica Corporation - anything you had to pay creds for while in the native sector could be traced back to the Commerce Alliance. They had their fingers into everything - from starship cargo runs, to off-planet travel, to local garbage collectors.
The Commerce Alliance grew so big that it eventually bought out the R'll homeworld's various governments - establishing themselves as the species' government. They withdrew from the Volan-N’Ra Ko (loosely translates into the Vic’Tarian-Mycabri Group, the sector’s military force) and for the longest time employed various mercenary groups to provide where protection was needed, and troubleshooting was required.”

“Okay, so where do the Regulators fit in?”

“Getting there.  With time, however, the "peoples" of the Mycab Sector grew dissatisfied with the way the Commerce Alliance ran nearly every type of trade. Riots, walk-outs, strikes, and worst was brought to bear against the enormous corporation/government. The Commerce Alliance was losing people, property, and worse...profits at an unsustainable rate. The Commerce Alliance needed a police force, a group they could use to keep customers in line.  They decided drastic measures were needed.
Measures that were easily implemented, since the Commerce Alliance bank-rolled the majority of the penal colonies scattered around the Mycab Sector....”

“Felgato.  Convicts?”

“Exactly.  When the first Regulators were used, it was in secret. However, a force that destructive...that violent..... it couldn’t be contained. It started out as merely conspiracies, then rumors...but those rumors grew. 
They grew into what is down the hall from you now.
Death-row prisoners that have been given another lease on life - even if that new life is the complete servitude to the Commerce Alliance.”_
-Recorded conversation between Adar “Bryce” Allens, black market arms dealer, and Jovanni Tist, Collective Marine Corps deserter, currently serving as a Commerce Alliance Regulator, moments before Adar was killed resisting arrest.


The grenade blast rocked them, that was for sure.  Both Regulators laid sprawled out in the hallway, their armored longcoats damaged.  The slightly taller Regulator began to stir first, groaning slightly before pulling himself up to his knees.  He glanced over to his partner, saw he was in worse shape.  The slightly taller Regulator reached into his longcoat and withdrew a small black bag.  Inside, two advanced medi-jects sat in a protective cushion.  The Regulator removed one of them before putting the black bag back inside his longcoat, and moved over to where his partner laid.  

The advanced medi-ject was – technically speaking – a black-market only item, since it was only manufactured within the Collective and possession of such an item, unless you worked for the Collective government, was strictly prohibited.  However, the slightly taller Regulator could’ve really cared less about rules and regulations – especially those that applied to people outside of the Commerce Alliance.  He knew it was his handler that gave him the medi-jects, and he knew that his handler was fully aware that the Regulators were above the law.  Hell, they *were* the law.  He jabbed the self-contained syringe hard into his partner’s leg, knowing that in mere seconds the medical nano-bots injected would begin to repair the damage that gorram grenade did.

Once it did, once his partner was conscious, the Regulators were going to finish the job.


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## kroh (Jul 7, 2006)

It was just like Fourth of July in that hallway... Hopefully the Regulators enjoyed the show...
Regards, 
Walt


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## kroh (Oct 25, 2006)

Any shot of the next installment coming to light (in other words...how long before the next session?)


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