Star Wars: Eyes of God Chapter 13 - I Love it When a Plan Comes Together

Across the level in the Razor Claws' main base, the place was packed wall-to-wall with every thug, mechanic, and lowlife from their turf. The air was full of grumbles and chatter as the gang walked around under the floodlights, blasters slung over shoulders, waiting for whatever bombshell had dragged them all here.

"Why the hell are we all crammed in like sardines?" grumbled a scrawny mechanic, wiping grease from his hands on his overalls. "Boss never calls a full muster like this, last time was when that bantha whore tried poaching our turf."

His buddy, a burly guy chomping on a stimstick, shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe he's got some big score lined up. Or could be bad news, heard a couple chop shops got hit hard lately, and guards turned to paste. Boss might be pissed and looking to chew some asses."

"Yeah, I was at the sector twelve outpost yesterday," piped up another voice nearby, a wiry chick with tattoos snaking up her arms. "Place was a slaughterhouse... bodies ripped apart like som freak went nuts. If that's why we're here, boss is gonna hand out kriffing beatdowns for slacking on security."

Over by a stack of crates, a cluster of goons laughed nervously. "Nah, it's gotta be something bigger. Why pull everyone from the whole level? Maybe we're merging with another crew or some shit."

"Or declaring war," one shot back. "Those Venom Sisters been eyeing our droid lanes, boss might want us geared up to hit 'em first."

In another corner, two guys leaned against a wall, passing a flask. "This better not be about that missing shipment from last week. I told the boss it was pirates, not our fault."

"Pirates my ass! You skimmed off the top, didn't ya? If he finds out, we're both kriffed."

Further back, a group huddled around a flickering holo-game, but their talk was all speculation. "Boss summoned the whole damn level, must be important. Maybe he's stepping down, naming a successor."

"Hah, fat chance. More like he's got intel on a Republic raid coming down. Or wait, you hear about that bounty hunter ghosting crews? Could be warning us off some new player."

"Yeah, and with those chop shops getting wrecked, boss is probably gonna yell about vigilance or whatever. 'Keep your eyes open, you idiots,'" one mimicked in a gruff voice, earning snickers.

The chatter built like a storm, theories flying between them until the boss stormed out onto a makeshift platform of stacked duracrete slabs, a hulking fat man with scars like a roadmap and a vibro-axe strapped to his back. His beady eyes swept the crowd. "Shut the hell up, all of ya!" he bellowed, the gang freezing mid-sentence as his glare dared anyone to keep yapping. "We got bigger problems than your kriffing gossip—someone's hitting our ops, and we're gonna crush them flat."

The boss paced the platform like he owned the damn junkyard—which he did—a sneer twisting his ugly mug. "We wouldn't be here if we had some more competent people in the crew. But unfortunately, I'm stuck with you lot... a bunch of half-witted, spice-addled morons who couldn't guard a pile of scrap, you couldn't be trusted to guard actual garbage!!!"

The gang shifted uneasily, a few chuckles dying quick as he kept going, pointing at a skinny Rodian in the front. "You, Skriz! Last week you let a droid walk off with half our inventory 'cause you were too busy jerking off to holo-porn. And don't get me started on you, Mara, your 'security patrols' are just excuses to bang every lowlife in the sector, leaving doors open wider than your legs."

He swung his gaze to a burly human nursing a bruise. "And Krag, you couldn't hit a bantha at point-blank if it was humping your sister. Hell, half of you couldn't organize a piss-up in a brewery."

The roasts kept coming, brutal and nonstop, the boss ripping into their screw-ups, their smells, their mamas—until one weaselly Zabrak in the back started sniffling, tears streaking his tattooed cheeks as the laughter turned on him.

The boss stopped cold, staring. "Oh, for kriff's sake—someone shoot that crybaby before he floods the yard."

A nearby goon didn't hesitate, pulling his blaster and popping a bolt right between the Zabrak's horns, the body slumping in a smoking heap as the crowd went dead quiet.

"Anyway," the boss grunted, wiping his hands like he'd just swatted a fly. "Those hits on our chop shops? Yeah, it's the Venom Sisters. Been poaching our turf, stealing from us."

From the middle of the crowd, some smartass leaned over to his buddy and muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, "I told you so! I've been saying it was them for weeks."

The boss's eyes narrowed. "Someone kill him too, I can't stand a smartass."

Another blaster shot cracked, the "I told you so" guy dropping with a hole in his chest, his buddy scrambling back like he'd seen a ghost.

"Right, where was I?" the boss continued. "I won't have it any longer, these bitches think they can bleed us dry? Nah. You're all here 'cause we're assaulting the Venom Sisters' main casino. It will be a Full-on raid, and we will take everything that's theirs."

The crowd erupted in shocked murmurs. "What?" "You serious, boss?" "That's suicide!"

One voice cut through, a nervous Twi'lek yelling, "But boss, it's so heavily fortified!"

The boss nodded, all dramatic. "I know, laser turrets on every corner, advanced security droids roaming the halls, biometric vaults that'd fry your balls if you sneeze wrong, guards armed to the teeth with disruptors and vibro-blades, and those Sisters themselves? Sadistic cunts who'd skin you alive and wear your hide as lingerie. But we got something they don't have."

The gang leaned in, hanging on his words. "Heart," he growled. "Yeah, you heard me. You may all be trash, but you're my trash, and I believe in you idiots. We've scrapped our way up from the gutters, clawed credits from the jaws of this place, and now we're gonna arm up, sharpen those blades, load those blasters, and storm that den like a horde of rancors on spice. We'll come out richer than ever, swimming in creds, spice, and whatever else we can haul, enough to buy out half the level and piss on the Sisters' graves!"

The crowd roared, fists pumping, cheers echoing off the junk piles like thunder.

The boss grinned, tusks flashing. "Good, cause we leave within the hour. Move your asses!"

The boss lumbered off the platform, his heavy footsteps echoing as the cheers from the main yard faded behind him, stepping into a dimly lit back office cluttered with holomaps and empty ale bottles. His right-hand men trailed him like obedient hounds, their eyes darting nervously.

"Lead the charge when I give the signal," the boss grunted, not breaking stride. "I'll be doing something important, handling the big picture stuff. Don't fuck it up."

"Yes, boss," they chorused, nodding vigorously before backing off like they'd been swatted.

"Good. Now leave me alone while I prepare myself," he said, opening the office door and sliding the door shut behind him. Inside, he walked over to his drinks cabinet and poured himself a generous slug of amber whiskey into a grimy tumbler, the liquid glugging out smoothly.

"That went a lot easier than I thought," he muttered to himself, raising the glass in a mock toast before a sudden poof of smoke erupted around him, chakra rippling like a haze. When it cleared, Kyle stood there in his true form, a smirk splitting his face as he dispelled the transformation jutsu.

He sauntered over to the boss's chair and jumped into it, kicking his feet up on the table with a satisfied thud, scattering datapads and credit chits. A few feet away, slumped against the wall in a pool of drying blood, was the real boss, the hulking man's forehead sporting a fresh blaster burn, his dead eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, his face frozen in a perpetual snarl.

Kyle leaned back, swirling the whiskey as he addressed the corpse like an old pal. "Man, you gotta admit... I'm pretty fucking smart for coming up with this plan. See, I slip in here using that handy transformation jutsu, blast your ugly mug, impersonate you, and boom—your whole crew's eating out of my hand. And the best part? I deal with two gangs for the price of one. Razor Claws and Venom Sisters, both getting fucked over tonight. Oh, and that little command I gave to bring all the credits from the other shops? Genius. They're hauling every last chip right here, thinking it's for the big raid." He truly was the best

He chuckled, raising the glass higher. "Soon I'll be richer than anyone else on this level, swimming in creds, buying that ship to chase Ahsoka's fine ass across the stars, and yeah, finally nailing Zarni in that Aratech suite. All thanks to you, you dead sack of shit." Kyle cheersed the boss's corpse with a clink against the air, then downed the drink in one burning gulp, the warmth spreading through him like victory.

He formed the hand seals quick and poof, two shadow clones materialized in the shadows of the office, identical smirks on their faces as they leaned against the walls.

"Stay in the dark," Kyle commanded, pointing at them. "Once everyone's gone for the raid, start cleaning out the warehouse, every crate, every credit, every scrap of value. Load it up and stash it where we planned."

The clones nodded, then started clapping slowly, their applause building as they grinned. "Damn boss, you're a genius," one said. "Tricking these idiots into a suicide run on the Sisters? While you slip in through the chaos and rob 'em blind? Masterstroke."

"Yeah, absolute legend," the other added. "Two birds, one stone, gangs wipe each other out, we walk away with the fortunes. Pure fucking brilliance."

Kyle bowed his head dramatically from the chair. "Thank you, thank you, but please hold your applause, I've got a casino to bleed dry."

Kyle stood up out of the chair, putting the glass down on the table and moved to slip out of the office. He looked to his clones. "Don't forget to blow this shithole sky high when you're done."

...

Kyle slipped out of the office through a side vent, chakra clinging to his feet as he scaled the warehouse wall like a shadow, The cheers from the main yard had died down and everyone was getting organised, engines were revving, blasters clacking as they were loaded, crates of credits from the outlying shops being hauled in and stacked like offerings to a war god. He smirked inwardly, every last chit consolidated right here for his clones to scoop up once the idiots marched off to their doom.

Kyle bounded across rooftops, his Rinnegan scanning for anyone following him, but he found none. With a combination of his chakra and his force enhancement it didn't take him long to get to his destination. The Venom Sisters' casino, "The Serpent's Den," loomed ahead, a gaudy place of flashing holographic ads of sexy women and lots of guards. Guards patrolled the perimeter, disruptors at the ready, already giving people shit; while inside, he knew from the intel, the real action thrummed: sabacc tables rigged for the house, spice dens where addicts fucked in hazy orgies, vaults stuffed with millions in creds.

He perched on a nearby spire, waiting for the bang to get into position. Back at the Razor Claws' base, his clones would be lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the loot once the yard emptied. And the raid? It'd be a bloodbath, drawing every Sister's eye outward while he ghosted in through a service duct he'd scouted earlier.

Meanwhile, the Razor Claws mobilized like a ragged army of the damned. The two Weequay lieutenants barked orders, herding the gang into battered landspeeders and hovertrucks loaded with improvised explosives and vibro-weapons. "Move it, you slugs!" one yelled, cracking a whip-like stun baton against a slowpoke's back. "Boss says we hit 'em hard—front doors first, blow the turrets, then flood in and take what's ours!"

A grizzled mechanic grumbled to his partner as they crammed into a truck bed. "This is kriffing insane. The Sisters' place? We'll be swiss-cheesed by droids before we breach the lobby."

"Yeah, but boss believes in us," the other shot back sarcastically, chambering a round in his slugthrower.

"Heart and all that bantha shit. More like he's sending us to die while he sips corellien whiskey in his office."

In another speeder, a tattooed chick adjusted her chest plate, her tits straining against the tight leather as she eyed her crew. "I heard a rumour that it was some freak with weird eyes, ripping guys apart. If the Sisters hired him, we're fucked."

"Nah, boss said it's the Sisters direct," a Rodian buzzed. "We'll avenge Zorg and the others, blast those bitches to hell."

The convoy roared out, a snarling line of vehicles kicking up dust and exhaust, heading straight for the casino like some kind of suicide squad. Kyle watched from his vantage, a grin splitting his face as the first explosions lit the night, Razor Claws' demo charges slamming into the perimeter fence, sparks flying as turrets swiveled and opened fire, red bolts carving through the attackers.

Screams erupted immediately. A Weequay lieutenant charged the breach, vibro-axe high, only to get vaporized mid-swing by a droids heavy blaster cturret, his body erupting in charred flesh. Claws poured in anyway, heart or no heart. One thug, the skinny mechanic from earlier, got pinned behind a speeder wreck, his arm blown off at the elbow, blood spurting like a fountain as he howled, "Kriff this! The boss lied, it's a meat grinder!"

Inside the casino, alarms wailed like banshees, patrons scattering in panic, gamblers abandoning tables mid-hand, whores and johns disentangling from mid-fuck in the back rooms, spice clouds billowing as dens cleared out. The Venom Sisters themselves—three vicious Mirialan females—mobilized from their penthouse lair. The eldest, Vira, snarled into her comm, her full breasts heaving in a skintight corset that left little to the imagination, nipples hard against the fabric from the adrenaline. "All units to the front—rip those Claw scum apart!"

Kyle almost winced as he peered at the unfolding slaughter below, the Razor Claws charging like fodder into a meat grinder, blaster bolts shredding through their ranks, bodies exploding in gory sprays of blood and viscera, one poor bastard getting his cock and balls vaporized mid-charge, his screams turning to gurgles as he clutched the smoking ruin between his legs. But Kyle just shrugged, the chaos was perfect for his cover; these idiots were dying for his fortune after all and he would honour them by remembering them when he was balls deep inside Zarni.

'Okay probably not...'

He dropped down into a side corridor, silent as a shadow, chakra masking his footsteps. Sneaking deeper, he encountered his first guards—three burly humans patrolling a service hall, their backs turned as alarms blared. Kyle formed a chakra rod in his palm, lunging forward to stab the first through the base of the skull, brain matter squirting out the front in a wet pop. The second spun, blaster rising, but Kyle Force-pulled him close, snapping his neck with a twist that left the body twitching, piss soaking his pants in death. The third got off a wild shot that scorched the wall; Kyle dodged, slamming an Almighty Push that crushed him against the duracrete, ribs cracking like brittle bones, blood erupting from his mouth and ass in a graphic heave.

He dragged the bodies into a utility closet, stripping the least bloody one—a tall human with a security uniform that fit his frame. Hand seals flashed: Ram, Snake, Tiger, and chakra rippled over him, transforming into the guard's likeness, down to the scar on his cheek. Kyle snatched the passkey card and the blaster rifle, a heavy E-11 with a fresh power pack, slinging it over his shoulder before sprinting toward the main entrance, the sounds of battle growing louder.

Peering around a corner, he saw the Razor Claws had rallied somehow their remaining forces pushing through the breached doors, vibro-blades hacking droid limbs, grenades turning Sisters' guards into minced meat. One Claw thug mounted a fallen droid, firing wildly while another got lucky, blasting a Sister's enforcer in the crotch, the man's balls exploding in a red mist as he howled and collapsed, and his cock flopping uselessly.

Kyle spotted his target: one of the younger Venom Sisters, Dira. She was barking orders as she fired a pistol, her like facial markings flushed with rage. He approached at a jog, rifle at the ready. "Ma'am! We have to get you to safety, they might get through any second!"

Dira whirled, her eyes narrowing, torn between the fight and self-preservation, her breasts heaving with each breath, sweat glistening in her cleavage like dew on ripe melons. "But the front line—"

"No time!" Kyle insisted, grabbing her hand and pulling her behind him, her body pressing close enough that he felt the heat of her body through their clothes. He fired off a few shots at the advancing Razor Claws for show, bolts sizzling harmlessly into walls, then bolted down a side hall with her in tow.

"What about my sisters?" Dira demanded, her voice breathless as they ran, her ass cheeks flexing with each step, pants riding up to tease the outline of her thong.

"Others are getting them to the vault, they'll be safe there," Kyle reassured.

"Yes... that makes sense," she panted, nodding as they descended a secure lift to the vault level.

The vault door was the only thing on this level, a massive slab of reinforced durasteel. Dira pressed her palm to the scanner, only she and her sisters could open it, per the intel, a family failsafe. The door hissed open, revealing stacks of credit chits, spice crates, and glittering high-denomination chips.

She stepped in, frowning at the empty space. "Where are they? My sisters should be here by now."

"Must be delayed by the fighting," Kyle said smoothly, ushering her deeper. "We should wait inside, it will be safer."

As she turned to argue, he struck with a chakra-enhanced chop to the neck, knocking her out cold. She crumpled like a ragdoll, tits spilling half-out of her top, nipples dark and erect against green skin, her pants damp at the crotch from the excitement or fear. Kyle almost paused to touch her, fingers itching to pinch those peaks, but business first. He rubbed his hands together, grinning wickedly, then formed the seals and poof, four shadow clones materialized, identical smirks on their faces.

"You all know what to do," Kyle said, eyes on the loot.

"Money, money, money," they chorused in unison, diving in like kids in a candy store.

They worked fast, transferring low-value credit chits into consolidated high-denomination ones, stacks of 1,000-cred chips becoming sleek 100,000-cred holocards, making them much easier to travel with. Bags filled rapidly, millions pouring in: 5 mil, 10 mil, 20 mil in under five minutes, the vault's riches vanishing into duffels.

Soon, he'd taken enough, over 50 million easy, plus the Razor haul waiting. He hoisted Dira's limp body, using her hand on the scanner to reopen the door, only to find guards and the other two Sisters waiting outside, blasters leveled, Vira's exposed tit still heaving, her pierced nipple glinting, the third sister's eyes glowing with fury.

Kyle and his clones froze, smiling sheepishly like caught thieves. "Uh... surprise?" one clone quipped.

Before they could fire, Kyle thrust his hand out—"Almighty Push!"—a chakra wave slammed them all against the far wall in a bone-crunching impact, bodies crumpling, Vira's corset ripping fully to bare both massive tits, bouncing as she gasped.

Kyle tossed a pack of thermal charges to one clone. "You know what to do, blow this place to hell once we're clear."

The clone saluted with a grin. "Aye boss, ka-boom time."

Kyle rushed out, duffels slung over his shoulders, weaving through the dying battle. Explosions rocked behind him as the clone detonated, the vault erupting in a fireball that buried the evidence and any survivors. He bounded away into the night, a millionaire—no, a multi-millionaire—in one fell swoop, laughing maniacally. Back to Zarni, where he'd celebrate by burying himself balls-deep in her eager holes, making her scream until dawn.

(AN: I basically jusy glossed over this cause i didn't want to waste time with such filler content. Anyway now our boy is back with millions and will now be on top of the world and Zarni.)