The sun was barely beginning to set on the heart of Corellia, Coronet City, when the Separatist cruiser exited hyperspace. There were no cruisers guarding it, since it was a neutral system. In fact, it wouldn't have attracted the attention of anyone if not for two things: its shipyards, and its location in the Core. It was a little too close for the comfort to the Republic, which was why the Separatist had made no moves to try and occupy it. It also made it perfect prey for them because it was in the perfect spot to make the Republic nervous, as it would turn out.
All of the hunters had a straight shot at the city when they began to descend in transport ships. The Corellian government had no reason to expect an attack, so even they were slow to defend their planet from what was beginning to look like an invasion. Alarms only began to blare minutes after the cruiser went into orbit and the people didn't even recognize the siren.
By the time starfighters managed to get up into the air, some of the transport ships had already touched down. Hunters, spies, thieves, and terrorists, all of them, began swarming out from their landing point. As soon as they got off, the droids flying the ships returned to the cruiser. The recruits were on their own and there would be no rescue from the Separatists.
They didn't even seem to mind, though. Some of them, mostly those who had made truces during the jump from...wherever they had been held, to Corellia, had agreed to storm the capital together. A few opted to take the back routes, and snuck in through unbarred windows and balconies, while the others just blew down the front doors and started shooting.
That was when the chaos really began to ensue. Dignitaries and politicians screamed and ran for cover while guards were shot down as soon as they engaged the recruits. More alarms started sounding and someone was on the PA system, warning for everyone to hide or run. A few of the hunters ran upstairs, having told their allies that they would take care of the security system. Others went and secured ships for their escape. Those who were left went for the vaults. That was where all the good stuff was, after all.
Of course, those who attacked the capital were the most daring and cunning of them all. Others had the feeling they would have a better chance at scoring credits and surviving in the thick of the buildings instead. A select few had scouted out which bounties were rumored to be hiding out in the streets of Corellia, and were already racing to see who could get the best rewards first. If you had a chance to snag a nice, bulky bounty and you had free transportation, you had to capitalize on the opportunity. They didn't bother with anything else, but they had to get at least one prisoner out of this trip. Two would be better, and three would set them up nicely.
The more devious of the recruits knew of the private companies and banks that were based out of Corellia. There weren't many, but for the few of them who had done their research and could handle the security, there was plenty to go around. All of their assets were either being hidden away in vaults or waiting in shipyards. All they had to do was secure it and load it onto one of the ships in the vicinity. If it wasn't already in credit form, the assets could be sold after the prices were heavily inflated. The black market would pay for their rewards.
Left were the lethal, heartless, dangerous recruits who had no mind for the innocent. They had no trouble sauntering into a street and picking a building at random, looting it and shooting anyone who tried to stop them. Those recruits who had fellow gang or organization members with them could storm the mansions and chain companies, and the freelancers started looking through basements, kitchen cabinets, and closet safes for valuables. Even the jewels in the bathroom could be sold for money down the road. Pedestrians were easy targets, especially since most of them weren't carrying a weapon. Any credits hidden in pockets or purses were theirs without question.
Local militias tried to fight back, but so much damage had already been done. The recruits had spread out all over the city, picking fights almost everywhere they went. "Go stop them!" the general would yell, and the soldier would reply back, "Which one?!?" They couldn't stop them all, since they didn't even know where all of them were. There was no way to locate all three-hundred plus recruits that had been unleashed on Corellia, and while they managed to take out some of the terrorists, the majority of them were much more adept and comfortable with killing than the soldiers were.
The governor had retreated to his chambers, hoping that it would protect him somehow, but his children were crying into the arms of his wife and they could hear explosions and blaster shots getting closer every second. Desperate, he ran over to his communication console and sent an emergency broadcast out to anyone who was listening:
"This is Lucius Mevinow, governor of Coronet City! We are under attack! I repeat, we are under attack from Separatist mercenaries! They-" An explosion rocked the room, and he shielded himself from anything that might fly into the room. "They are attacking innocents! My people are going to die!!! We have not provoked this invasion, Corellia is a neutral system, we have no stake in the Clone War! Please! If anyone is listening we need hel-!"
And that was all he got out before a stolen missile was launched at his chambers, instantly killing him and his family. By the time the federal guards arrived, there was no one left to save.
~
The underground wasn't doing much better. Assassins were prowling the tunnels, looking for heads with bounties on them. They knew the names and had memorized the faces. All that was left was to find one (or hopefully more), aim the blaster, and pull the trigger. They could be flying away with the next year's money in a few hours, if only they could find their targets.
Unfortunately, there were some who accidentally stumbled into gang territory. It was pretty clear that none of these imposters were welcome, and most of them were captured on sight if not immediately killed. Cilsxi Osceniu was one of them, and ended up being thrown in a cell down in the depths of he didn't know or care where.
All he could do was sit in the corner and listen for any signs of excitement. All of his findings had been taken from him upon capture, and they took his weapons too. It was a miracle they had left him alive, but maybe dying would have been better. There was a stench in here that was going to make him puke and anything was better than that.
A clanging came from behind him, a small scrumrat with a plate in his hand. He was banging on the metal bars for his attention. "Hungry?" he asked, setting the plate inside the cell. Cilsxi wandered over and sat against the wall, taking the plate. The only thing on there was a quarter portion, but it was something. He decided to stay there. Talking to a scrumrat was better than no one at all. It's not like there was any company in the cell.
"Where did you come from?" the boy asked, looking down at the prisoner. He hadn't been there for when the leader, Lady Proxima, had given his sentence. He was only ten and not old enough to be included in such affairs.
"I'm from the Outer Rim," he mumbled as he choked down the tasteless food. "Got sent here by Dooku, but I dunno from where."
"Dooku?" the boy asked, cocking his head and sitting down on the other side of the bars.
Cilsxi raised an eyebrow at him, before looking away. "I guess a scrumrat like you wouldn't know. I've been there, you don't hear anything about the outside world, do ya?"
The boy shook his head, slightly ashamed but more interested. "I wanna become a pilot, the best pilot in the galaxy. I have to learn to fly, though."
Laughing, the bounty hunter and facing the opposite wall. "Keep dreaming, kid. Anyways, Dooku's this...count, of sorts. He's in charge of the Separatist Alliance, he won it after his boss died. Pretty nasty mess, that was. You ever heard of a Jedi?"
Thinking, the boy nodded. He remembered someone talking about it a long time ago, but he had never seen one.
"Dooku's the opposite of that. Don't like the Jedi myself, but Dooku's just plain evil. He's got this horrible, red lightsaber." Cilsxi looked down at the boy's wide eyes. "Ever seen a lightsaber before?"
He knew the answer, of course, there was no way the kid had ever seen a lightsaber if he had lived down here his whole life. Cilsxi leaned in close, whispering to the kid. He didn't have to, but it was more fun if the kid believed he was telling him a secret. "It's this sword, but it ain't a regular sword. It's a laser. It can deflect a blaster shot if you use it right, and if you touch it, it'll burn your hand right off. I've seen people get their head chopped off by these things. One weird hum later and you're dead on the spot."
The look on the boy's face was pretty entertaining. Clearly, he had quite the imagination, because he dropped dead silent after that. Clisxi wondered if he was reconsidering his desire to see the galaxy.
"You don't have to worry about that, kid," he assured him, sliding the plate back to the scrumrat. "You ain't ever gonna see a lightsaber in your life, unless you go looking for someone who's swinging one. If I stay here, I won't either." He chuckled. "At least that's something I got going for me. Where am I, anyways? Who are you folk?"
"We're the White Worms," the boy answered, standing up with the plate in hand.
That sounded ridiculous to Clisxi. "I see they're running out of names, these days." The boy started to walk, and he called out to him. "What about you?"
"Huh?" The boy turned, looking back at the prisoner.
"You got a name?"
Someone yelled from around the corner, clearly distressing the kid. He looked back at the bounty hunter and quickly answered, "Han," before running off to whoever was calling for him.