GNN: Knowledge is Power

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Balsa is not a lie!
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GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by Balsa »

OOC Thread is here!

Hotel Siva'uish was one of the more upscale hotels along the coast of Farraege's capital city. It meant "Jewel of the Sinahm'Uish" in the native tongue, but the locals referred to it by "Ice and Fire" because, according to The Galactic Guide, "everything there is cool and all the people there are hot."

Whatever its name, Hotel Siva'uish's bustling casinos and throngs of beach goers and gamblers made it the perfect rendezvous place for clandestine meetings. The garish music, dazzling lights, partying bodies, there was so much going on, so much clutter and chaff that there was no need for any anti-eavesdropping devices. Not to mention the numerous security personnel patrolling the casino and hotel floors. They had been hired and installed after the terrorist attacks that left the planet's Caennar and hotel owner kidnapped and brutalized.

Derek Folgers sipped at his drink, a curious mix of alcohol, fruit extract, and glow-in-the-dark edible ink. He didn't know what it was, but he drank it anyways, hoping to soothe his nerves. He knew he should feel safe here. The extra security, the distractions, they should all make it so he'd never be found out. Hell, just meeting his contact should have given him some confidence. His contact was a powerful, intergalactic news organization. They had guaranteed his safety.

And if worse came to worse, the powerful pistol tucked into his waistband should get him out of any trouble. It was a heavy repeater, a slugthrower that fired high explosive, armor piercing rounds that could punch holes in tank armor. It'd leave anyone and anything a mangled mess of flesh (or whatever component parts) smeared across the ground.

But, no, his nerves were frying. He glanced this way and that, nearly jumping at imagined threats and shadows. (Not that Derek could have spotted any danger within the crowds, there were so many club-goers.) Despite all of the assurances, he knew he wasn't safe because of the nature of the information he carried.

Knowledge is power, Derek had heard once, and he firmly believed that now. The tiny datacard in his pocket, a piece of plastic and silicon no larger than a few centimeters squared, contained so much power that he knew he was in danger. That data stored in those memory chips were stolen secrets from one of the most feared organizations in this sector of the galaxy, and he knew they were after him.

Of course, knowledge like that fetched large sums of money, so Derek was now a nervous wreck, sitting with a drink in one hand and the other hand itching for his pistol, waiting for his contact from the famed Galactic News Network to show up and pay him for this piece of power.

And, of course, he'd have to be alive to spend that much money, and Derek was just now realizing his folly. He'd probably bitten off more than he could chew. Sure, six figures was tempting, but now he was questioning himself. What if they got to him first? Would they stop chasing him once the GNN took the data?

He wasn't sure, and it was a moot point, because a hand landed heavily on his shoulder, and Derek just about pissed himself. He spun around, his hand reaching for his pistol...
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by xfiend1013 »

When Derek Folgers looked back on his life he would be able to remember his worst mistake.

It was when he pulled his tank-shredding hand-cannon, not even legally termed a "pistol," out of his pants and fired a single high-explosive armor piercing round in a room packed shoulder-to-shoulder with scantily clad flesh.

He never even really figured out who, or what, he'd shot.

There was that much blood. And screaming. He was in shock.

In 45 seconds club security had him on his face, with one man standing on his neck and two more on his body. That 45 seconds was an eternity to everyone in Club Siva'uish save for Derek (it was the shortest conscious 45 seconds of his life) and the bartender, who'd had some very interesting seconds.

He'd shot three people at once. The bullet had gone through the bare midriff of a girl armored in nothing thicker than oil and exploded in the skull of the Bith behind her. The huge head had popped with enough force to smear the face of... something... into a half-cracked sort of bloody melon that was currently slumped down onto the flashing floor lighting, throwing a sickly spreading shadow onto the ceiling.

Then the club bouncer shot Derek Folgers in the back of the head with a small caliber pistol and Derek Folgers never had any problems about knowledge or anything else, ever again.

The barkeep was happy with the dose of pure adrenaline required to cause a human to freak out in paranoia. She kept standing by the bar in faux shock, watching with genuine befuddlement as the blood spread.

Barkeep Tarantella Fiennes turned to a spot no one else could see, where she knew there was a camera. She smiled for it, posed a bit. It was the pose of someone who knew how to use her looks.

"No more travelogues and 'Lifestyles of Wealth and Wine!" She said to herself with a bit of a wicked grin. The hidden camera watched her, focused automatically, keyed to a chip in her earring. She touched the earring and an embedded microphone kicked in. "I'm Tarantella Fiennes, and I'm here covering the murder of an anonymous GNN source and the young female reporter sent to hear his story!"

Her nearest cameraman, a slick-looking twenty-something Ingr'nysk who somehow seemed a bit oily, came running up, the thin camera-pad simultaneously recording and transmitting the scene around the holonet. He was fiddling with the contrast when three bouncers tackled him, and then her second cameraman - her favorite cameraman - took over, filming calm and cool from the cover of a crowd of teenagers who were using similar datapad recorders to catch the scene.

Free publicity. Tarantella thought. Holonet sensation.

"And now we're being repressed by the same men who moments ago murdered our anonymous source!" She shouted. "We have a right to be here!"

The whole situation went out of control when someone threw a bottle and the bouncer shot them with a stun blast. Kids started shooting back, tables turned over, the riotous impulses were somehow magnified by the knowledge that a live audience of billions was watching.

It was usually that way. The riot - now with stolen guns, corpses to parade, and fire - spilled out into the streets on waves of desks thrown from second story windows. It went zipping down side streets as speeders were set aflame, and the heavy paramilitary force just seemed to make it angry, the helmets and rifles just caused the thing to flare up. People filled bottles with fuel and tried their best to burn someone alive.

When morning came, there was still smoke in the sky. Riots had spread across the vacation-happy islands. And GNN was still transmitting.

[Coruscant- GNN Media Marketing Division HQ]

"People want more of this Fiennes woman and the shavvit on Farraege!" A blustering bearded businessman shouted. "And you're thinking about sending that idiot Hallon?"

"Hallon tests well with the fifty plus crowd." The other man said. They were Greecius and Gonick, once two-thirds of the publishing giant Galactic Guide Publishing, once two-thirds owners of the shady G3 Pharmaceuticals. Ever since the buyout - or the 'hostile takeover,' as Gonick liked to call it - they'd moved on, picked up huge stakes in GNN.

"The fifty plus crowd doesn't spend shavvit!" Greecius protested. "And Fiennes is still on the scene."

"You two old geezers..." The third man said. He was young, and terribly attractive. He had the body of a rooftop running urban adventurer and the magazine covers and Xtreme Gamez appearances to prove it.

He was Grant Ford, and he'd been hired to make GNN more acceptable to a younger crowd.

"You're thinking news and anchors and stupid boring shavvit. This needs to be a sensation. This needs to sell ads. This needs to be talked about by people other than the idiotic talking heads on the cross-talk shows."

The two older men looked at him curiously. A passion for journalism was not their motivation. Sales were.

"This needs to be part of our new reality show. The one the lawyers have been picking over: 'Knowledge is Power."

Greecius paused, put his fingertips together in front of his mouth.

Gonick leaned back, hands behind his head.

"Fallon's our new contestant, then. Get him to sign all the waivers. Get a legal team to Farraege, get a few camera crews, and let's make news history."
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by Balsa »

The little datacard that had sat safely hidden away in Derek Folger's pocket was now sitting on the casino floor, having fallen there when his pocket had been ripped open by the tackling security guards. The chip was now lying amid the spilled chips, broken glasses, and other debris that had been generated by the ensuing chaos. It would have stayed there and been discarded by the eventual cleanup process had a certain human not been shoved to the ground by the rioters and protesters.

Evelyn Fowl hissed in pain as her palms scraped across the dirty floor. The tiny glass shards dug into her skin, leaving bloody furrows. She gritted her teeth and pushed up from the carpet but before she rose to her feet, her eyes caught on something. It was a circular chip, black, without any markings aside from the gold contacts. It looked like any number of brands of datachips, something ubiquitous in the galaxy, and so it stood out from the gaudy gambling chips, rainbow-colored glass shards, and fallen meals.

Curiosity got the better of her and she scooped up the chip before slipping it into her trouser pocket. She made a rude gesture towards the rioters and security personnel, and ran out of the casino just as another round of tear gas canisters exploded. While her body was in fight-or-flight mode, her mind was focused on that datachip sleeping away in her pocket...

+++

Sergeant Morkar Gran'ula pushed his way through the riot officers towards an oddly dressed Ingr'Nysk that was not supposed to be within the safe zone. The man wore a heavy leather overcoat and beneath that a highly ornate set of carapace armor. The armor was filigreed in gold and silver, and its perfect fit spoke to its high quality of make. The man himself was equally refined, with his tera tied back and his posture held with confidence.

"Sir, you can't be in this area. I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Gran'ula said as he spun the man around by his shoulder.

"You are mistaken," the man said with his cultured voice. The voice carried a mix of authority and patience.

Gran'ula was about to repeat himself when his eyes found the amulet hanging at the man's neck. It was carved from obsidian and the emblem of the Xedael Empire was etched into its surface. Emblazoned over the emblem was a sigil inlaid with ruby and sapphire. Sergeant Gran'ula frowned; he recognized that symbol. "...Sir?"

"You are mistaken," the man said again. "I require a situation report. Explain to me what you are doing to contain this--" the man gestured at the rioters "--situation."

"Sir, I don't believe--"

"It doesn't matter what you believe," the man snapped. The patience and kindness had left his voice, and murderous intent shone in his eyes. "You will give me a sitrep, or you will die where you stand. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!" Gran'ula swallowed hard. "Approximately four hours ago an incident occurred in the Hotel Siva'uish. Shots were fired and three people were killed before security could subdue the attacker. The attacker was killed in the skirmish. Unbeknownst to us, a reporter of the GNN managed to catch the submission on video and broadcast it across the GNN network. With some one-sided comments and choice editing of the footage, she has incited the entire world."

The man nodded. "And the rest of the galaxy are seeing this."

"Yes they are, sir." Gran'ula pointed at the crowd gathering past the police line. "We've managed to gain some control in many parts of the planet, but there are still pockets of resistance. The hotel has been secured, however."

"I see," the man said. "Sergeant, the man who caused the violence is a wanted man. He is a traitor and has stolen information from the Empire. I want that information found. Have your men scour the casino floor, interrogate everyone. I want to examine the man's body."

"Yes sir."

"Also order a news blackout of this world. Isolate the GNN feeds so they are not broadcasting the situation here to the rest of the galaxy until everything is under control. Can you do that, Sergeant?"

"I can, sir. Anything else?"

"Yes. While I'd have preferred to simply glass the continent, the Emperor in his wisdom has deemed Farraege a special zone allowed more freedoms than usual. Instead, find the reporter who filmed the original incident. Find him by any means necessary. Is that understood, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir." Sergeant Morkar Gran'ula saluted.

"Excellent. Find the man responsible for this." Inquisitor Ithael Dy'tan smiled. It was a smile of a man who certainly cared less about the means so long as the ends were met. "The Inquisition cannot allow such rebellion go unpunished."
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by Balsa »

Evelyn Fowl opened the can of soda with a hissing pop and slumped into her chair. Her palms were wrapped in bandages and her whole body ached from the escape from the casino. Muffled by her apartment window and walls, she heard police sirens and the occasional weapon discharge. Smoke and fire bellowed in the distance, but not anywhere with the intensity of just a few hours ago. The planetary garrison was slowly, but efficiently regaining control of Farraege.

She slid the mysterious datadisk into her computer and was surprised that there was no encryption or password protection preventing her from opening the files. She had been expecting to have to penetrate some rudimentary defense like on the holovids. Evelyn shrugged, happy with her luck. As good as she was with computers, she hadn't been looking forward to hacking her way into the disk's files.

The interior of the disk was nondescript, your standard files and folders and images and other data. Evelyn chose one at random, a text file, and opened it. While the files themselves were not encrypted, the actual information found within the file might as well have been. She quickly skimmed the text, but couldn't make sense of the content. The words, paragraphs, they were written in some other language, nothing that she recognized, and after a very brief scan with her computer's dictionary, certainly nothing the computer recognized.

Frowning, Evelyn pulled up a mathematical program used to detect basic patterns within data. While it usually couldn't crack a code, it was useful for letting the user know that there actually was a code in use. In this case, the program ran through the text file in about forty seconds and came back negative: No code in use.

"A secret language?" Evelyn muttered to herself. An unknown language wasn't too unusual given the sheer number of species and civilizations out there, but it was annoying nonetheless. She minimized the file and chose another one, this time a graphical file.

The image seemed to be taken from a security camera and was of fairly good quality. The image was of a courtyard surrounded by a wall and was taken from the daytime. It looked like a governmental building, and after a little bit of research, Evelyn decided it was probably taken from the home of the Xedael Empire's ambassador. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary; the picture was taken a few months ago and seemed fairly normal.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes as she moved the picture around. She was just about to move onto another file when her eyes caught on something. Right in the middle of the picture, the lawn was slightly distorted, as if there was a heat wave refracting the light. It was odd, barely noticeable, and after further examination, she thought it was in the shape of a hunched over man. It was difficult to tell, though, so she wasn't exactly sure.

"A ghost?" Grinning with excitement at her find, she began to pour through the rest of the files, eager to see what else she might discover. This certainly beat her day job at the local fast food eatery.
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by xfiend1013 »

Farraege:

The footage may have been shot on hand-held datapad cameras but it was all gleaming HD glory and shine. Three young men - the newest contestants on Knowledge is Power - were huddled around a monitor with a bevy of stims and high-caff beverages.

"It's the details of something captured. Something big." He was saying. The college kid with the camera was over his shoulder, the auto-stabilizing mechanism in his datapad was in overdrive, from the tremors he was having.

"Like... two meters tall. At least two hundred kilograms. There's all these warnings, terms I don't know..."

"Look, casualty reports." The second kid said. None of them were out of college. The kid, Ernesto Weatherford, was from a wealthy Core world family that had all died on Alsakan. He'd taken the four life insurance policies and he'd been partying hard ever since.

The kid at the computer opened up the database with a single jab of his hand through the lightboard. There were military men, scarred and muscular, all arrayed on steel slabs. Nothing wrong with them at all, save some deep bruising around their wide-open eyes.

"What killed them?" Ernesto asked.

"They're not..."

The door blew in off the hinges and the camera fell to the ground. A few loud shots and blinding flashes and when the focus came back there was nothing but a lifeless hand in front of it, blood seeping onto the lenses, and then a boot, military style, beside it. It came down hard, there was a pop and then nothing but static.

"Godsdamnit, this is the last one?" Gonick shouted. "That's two days old! What's going on down there?"

"Apparently..." Greecius said with a wry smile. "They're using high-energy short-range EMP grenades to fry any tech before going in, according to Feines."

"Feines is still alive?" Gonick asked, incredulous.

"She's been copying this data and passing it around."

"How?"

"We're not sure. It seems to be almost at random. No real clue how she's doing it and evading the Martial Law. One transmission will be from a waitress, the next from some college kids, one from an investment banker. All of them were killed shortly after recording their finds. We suspect theres' more of them that we never find out about due to these... Inquisitors."

"How are they transmitting this stuff?" Grant Ford asked. He didn't like these meetings usually, but since the launch of his baby - Knowledge is Power was his idea, after all - he'd been attending more and more of them and paying attention as well.

"Local nets only. Then some lucky soul will carry a datapad off world and make a transmission. We need to get our upload channels back in operation - the Xedadel have made sure that nothing carrying signal off of Urquesh is getting through."

"We need a troubleshooter. Someone with experience in this sort of thing." Greecius said.

"Who are you thinking about?" Gonick asked.

Greecius pursed his lips, was about to open his mouth, then he shut it, paused.

"No! Oh no. No no no! I thought you said he wasn't going to get involved. Not anymore. Not ever again."

"Wait, who are we talking about? How much does he want?" Ford asked.

"I already spoke with a contact of his. Three million credits and he guarantees the work. Who knows, maybe he'll get killed?" Greecius said.

"We've already sold thirty five million credits in advertising for the next weeks worth of shows, gentlemen. If we can't deliver seven solid hours of stunning reality news programming, we are up shavvit creek without a boat or a paddle." Ford said. "Transfer the money."

"I'm with Ford on this one." Greecius said. "Best case scenario, he fixes the problem and gets himself killed. Worse case scenario, we get in a little legal limbo for hiring a known terrorist."

"We could go to jail!" Gonick protested.

"Our lawyers have assured me that's highly unlikely."

"We're already stealing Xedadel Empire secrets as a form of interstellar entertainment. I'm shocked that our lawyers haven't quit in protest."

"Xedadel Empire secrets dont' carry much weight in New Republic territory, gentlemen. Plus I've got word from higher-ups in the Empire that this is going to be unofficially sanctioned in their territories as well. We're insulated, protected, and making millions."

"Then go ahead and frell it all up." Gonick said. "Put him on the job. If we're lucky we'll live to regret this..."

Farraege:

Tarantella and her team were out spreading the news. Since the riots had cooled off and the police state had kicked in, they were technically wanted for crimes against the state. Espionage, mainly, but a host of other things she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

The drove slowly, slightly under the speed limit, in a speeder rented by an associate who had no idea he was now a marked man. They'd slow down every once in a while, at some intersection or some merging lane, and then they'd get people killed.

Not directly. But killed nonetheless. They'd stop at a corner and throw a datastick out of the window, carelessly. Each one contained gigabytes of data, copied chunks of the huge unencrypted mess she'd gotten ahold of at the club that night.

Someone would pick them up. Check them out. Find out that they were now stars of a reality TV show. Find out that if they kept investigating, they'd disappear.

They drove slowly past a crowded nightclub where two full-armor marines were dragging a pair of Sing'ashe otter-men into a waiting windowless van.
When they rounded the corner, Tarantella thew out another stick. She wondered what old Philips, with his grey temples and gravitas, was doing now...
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by DarthYnoj »

OOC:Ok i decided to post after seeing X you posted and i hope you like it and i start the right way... :)

IC:

Farraege

Sebastian Chele was going over and there like lost...he had just got out of the university and joined the GNN mission on Faraege in order to get some first experience and he might was starting losing his self confidence in doing the job.

He had arrived in the planet looking for the people who would give him directions and he was standing on a street waiting for the man to pick him up as he was ordered by the GNN heads.

Sebastian was 22 years old and he was in the university for 4 years graduating as political reporter....he was from Eriadu raised by a civil family.A boy in about 1,80 cm black hair and slim figure was standing with a datapad in his hand...waiting for someone...
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by Balsa »

Morkar Gran’ula licked his lips nervously before knocking gently on the solid lacquered wooden door. A voice, strong and clear, answered, “Enter.” The sergeant took a deep breath, pushed open the door and stepped through. He snapped a salute. “Sergeant Gran’ula reporting as ordered, sir.”

Inquisitor Ithael Dy’tan looked up from the dataslate he was studying, and nodded politely. “At ease, Sergeant. Why are you so nervous? Be at peace. You and I are both loyal servants of the Emperor. There is nothing to fear.”

“Yes, sir,” Morkar said, unsettled. While he knew he was radiating his discomfort quite clearly, what with his shifting skin color, he couldn’t help but feel that the Inquisitor was far more perceptive than he appeared, as if he could read Morkar’s mind. But that was impossible. “Just a bit unsettled by this mess, sir. Nothing else.”

Ithael smiled. “Of course not, Sergeant. Now, I believe you have an update for me?”

“Yes, sir.” The sergeant glanced at his datapad. “I’ve gathered the results from the latest set of… interrogations. Aside from some expected divergences due to the methods your interrogators employed, the results are fairly consistent with earlier questioning.” He handed the Inquisitor a hardcopy. “All of the subjects said the data they were either transmitting or studying had been found in a discarded datadrive, one of those small, finger-sized ones. Most of them said the drives were found on the ground, or in a trash bin. There’s no pattern. It appears they were found at random.”

“Have you run traces between the subjects?”

“Yes we have. They don’t appear linked in any way, sir.”

There was a murderous gleam in Ithael’s eyes as he answered. “Those results corroborate the interviews of dozens of other subjects. Whoever is behind all of this is doing it chaotically, relying on chance to carry out his dirty work. I want you to scour the continent, screening all transmissions and searching for any clues or patterns or indication of where and how these datadrives are being distributed. Monitor foot and vehicular traffic. Look for abnormalities and follow all leads.”

Morkar winced. “Sir, that will take a very long time. I don’t even know if my department has the resources to carry out such a task.”

“You no longer work for the provisional garrison, Sergeant Gran’ula.” Ithael smiled a cruel smile. “You work for the Inquisition. You best get started, Sergeant. Is there anything else?”

Morkar hesitated but took a deep breath and hoped for the best. “Yes there is, sir. Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course, Sergeant,” Ithael answered with irony, “the Empire values the freedom of speech.”

“Sir, I am concerned with the harshness of your interrogation methods. They are cruel and distasteful. The subjects are being mistreated, sir.”

The Inquisitor laughed aloud. “Of course the interrogations are distasteful, Sergeant. They are torture. Torture is distasteful. But so is treason. Traitors are distasteful and so deserve distasteful treatment. Will that be all?”

“That is all, sir.” Morkar snapped a salute and left the Inquisitor’s office, wondering what crimes he had committed to be “volunteered” into the Inquisition’s service.
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by xfiend1013 »

Martin Fallon had a face full of gravitas. He had the slight wrinkles, the greying temples, the hard jawlines. When a news camera was turned to him the viewer felt like they simply had to believe him.

It hadn't hurt that he'd spent thirty years covering the biggest news stories in the galaxy. Not the crazy stuff - not the Death Stars or the Battles or the Mandalorians or Sith Lords or Xen Chi or Cult of Darkness. None of that. That was already news.

Martin Fallon made news. Uncovered it. Dug it up and dragged it by one leg into the shining light of the cameras. He'd worked on Coruscant, in the underbelly of Coronet City, in the spires of Nar Shadda. Tailed, chased, threatened with murder, firefights and last-second escapes.

Now though he was being driven in a van to pick up a new contact.

"Mr. Fallon!" The driver snapped. Their utility speeder slowed, outside there was smoke in the air. The little holoviewer newscast was promising the last day of the riots, but it had done the same last night.

"I think it's following us. Some sort of drone aircraft."

"They'd be too high for you to see. Remember Coronet? Those things were at 15 thousand meters, Colby."

Colby was a chubby guy with a huge beard and a profusion of body hair. He'd driven Fallon around the worst sort of warzones.

The people Fallon brought with him had experience. He didn't know why GNN had assigned him a new guy.

"How'd we find out about this Chele fellow, anyway?" Fallon asked.

"Didn't you hear? GNN got a troubleshooter on the case. There's a secure network. Direct holonet transmission, it doesn't have to leave the atmosphere of Faraege. Nobody on Faraege can watch GNN, but we can send messages and video directly to Coruscant HQ."

Fallon hadn't heard this. The troubleshooter had been too busy setting up a worldwide network of low-orbit satellite balloons and hidden high-altitude antennas.

"Whoever they are, they're good." Fallon said. "Finally. A reason to film something."

They stopped at the corner and threw the doors open on an unassuming looking man.

"Sebastian Chele?" Fallon asked. He was flanked by two bodyguards. On his left, a bald middle-aged ex-military man who was far more smart than strong but twice as dangerous as most men twice as large, twice as fast, and half his age. He had glasses and a suit and a sinister sort of vulture grin.

"This is Walt." Fallon said.

The other man, on his right, was larger, brown-skinned, and had a huge head draped with dreadlocks. He was wearing a muscle T-shirt and rocking his head back and forth to unheard music.

"This is Hurt." Fallon said. "It's a nickname."

Hurt did not look towards Chele. He kept bobbing his head.

"The driver is Colby. You surely know me as Martin Fallon, now get in the car son before someone blows your head off and ruins Walt's good suit."

Walt leaned in close to Chele.

"He's kidding. This isn't my good suit."
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by DarthYnoj »

Sebastian smiled back at them and got in the van. He didnt knew what excactly they wanted but decided to leave his fear aside and join them.

''I am happy that someone has appeared in this infernal enviroment i couldnt stand any more here.''

OOC:Short post sorry but had to run.
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by xfiend1013 »

OOC: I forgot alllll about this! I still want to keep this thread going - going somewhere different!

Like here!

IC:

Walt and Hurt closed the doors with a simultaneous, practiced motion. The van shot off, accelerating through turbulent tropical air as it gained altitude.

"Do you have the latest installment?" Fallon asked Chele.

Chele nodded, handed them a datastick. Fallon practically snatched it from his hand. "Frack, if only we knew how she was getting these things out we could get the whole damn thing, blow this wide open."

Hurt took his datapad and scanned through the contents. "Hey boss." He said, pushing the dreadlocks from his face. "I think we've got something here. You remember all those weird corpses that were in the old reports? This is just more pictures of really peaceful dead folks. But get this. It's a dead Rai."

"Rai?" Fallon asked.

"Uul'ba-Rai if you want to be specific." Walt said, his voice crackling. "They're almost exclusively found on Trevel'ka. Here's a brief rundown." He handed Fallon a datapad.

"Yeah I can use the fracking holopedia, Walt." Fallon said.

"Well excuse me for helping." Walt replied.

"You." Fallon said suddenly, his full range of newscaster gravitas returning in a single word. He pointed at Chele. "Find out where this is happening."

"My money is on Trevel'ka." Walt said. Hurt handed Chele a datastick.

"This is what we know so far." Hurt said. "Check through it. See if Walt's right."

"Gorramn, if it's on Trevel'ka we're gonna need help getting off this planet. Colby!"

"Sir?" The driver asked.

"Get us back to our safehouse. We need to contact our troubleshooter."
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Re: GNN: Knowledge is Power

Post by xfiend1013 »

Fallon sat there at the ledge, rocking back and forth, his knees up at his chest, all his newsman gravitas, all that trademark stoicism and steel all gone to shavvit. "I almost... I almost jumped..." He muttered.

The tropical winds were blowing off the sea and bringing dusk down on the storm-blacked sky. A single sliver of silver spilled from the sun, bisected by blackening cloud and wave.

Rain started in. The ocean began to rock.

"Listen, Fallon. She's dead, alright? They shot her in the raid, they didn't get to her. We've got time, Fallon. For frack's sake don't jump. Storm's coming, we can get this."

Fallon looked down at the street, sixty meters below, where the tourists scurried to cover in wind-curled trajectories. The waving grass seemed soft, inviting, the impulse to push himself forward, away from the ledge, seemed like it would be the most comfortable thing in the world.

He did not do it. He listened to Walt.

"We got ahold of the troubleshooter, Walt. We're gonna use the storm as cover. Tarantella's dead. But we're not." He dared not say what he knew - Tarantella Fiennes wasn't dead, she'd been captured by the Inquisition, she had likely already told them everything she knew, she was likely off to be brainwashed and sent back against them, to track them, to lead them astray.

There was still hope. Hope and Hurt. Hurt was watching. Waiting, crouched like a panther of sinew, sweat beading on his smooth dark-chocolate skin. Walt didn't think he could reach Fallon in time, but he knew he very well might.

Fallon stopped, looked down at the street, at a familiar pace and gait.

"Fiennes?" He asked himself. "Tarantella?" He looked back at Walt, eyes wide, the evidence of betrayal spread through the wrinkling of his brow.

Hurt uncurled, half a lunge, half unfolding across the space, his length spreading into the distance, his long arm curving towards Fallon. Fallon pushed forward, felt himself tilt, feet into the wall, head out over the view down.

The grass didn't look inviting anymore, the lack of substance holding him up was alarming, and most of all he regretted that he already regretted the jump, with so much more of it left ahead.

Then his arm twisted behind him, a hand stronger than his whole body reached down and gripped his belt and pants, the huge twisting long things pulled him back up.

Fallon shuddered. His head fit into the palm of Hurt's hand, and it stayed there for a second.

Then Hurt kneed him in the groin and threw him away from the ledge. Walt grabbed the reporter by the wrist and dragged him down four metal stairs before rolling him over.

"Frack it, Fallon. You gotta get your shavvit together. Ship's gonna get us out in the storm, all the footage. We survived frelling Corellia, we outsmarted those Sith, we kept our cool when the Mandalorians showed up. We've got this."

Huge drops of rain blanketed the outside as Hurt filled the doorway, blocking out the last tracing lines of light.

"If they can fly through this shavvit." Hurt said.

"Don't worry." Walt smiled. "I hear they're sending The Doctor."
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