The Offworld Saga: The Rise of the Survivalist Federation Force

Ch.11: The Liberation of Kittyopolis, part 1

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Leon's Casino

SFF-Occupied Kittyopolis

"Alright, place your bets! Round two of 21 Guns is about to begin!"

Tubbs, the Kithan owner of the casino, watched as the group of Gamran mercenaries used by SFF's Occupational Forces enjoyed gambling at the casino's tables and machines. Though the general population's view of these occupiers is far from welcoming, the casino's business really benefited from the Survivalist occupiers. Before the occupation, rarely could one see any customers in the casino save for common workers trying to unwind after a hard day or underworld enforcers enjoying the night, but that all changed when the Survivalist Federation Force's military machines rolled into the Kithar homeworld. The Survivalists may have ended prostitution and illegal activities such as the drug trade or petty crimes, but through a local puppet, they had usurped all of the land's functions, including the government branches, civil services, military, industrial, and agricultural labor. That was not something Tubbs, a former captain in the Kithan military, couldn't stand by to watch.

"Mr. Tubbs, an SFF officer in table five has ordered drinks for his men as well as a Koitan sandwich for himself. "

The orange and cream-furred owner turned to see one of his employees, a ginger-furred Kithar, approach him. Behind him, his own security group which consisted of several bouncers, glanced around anxiously as several SFF military police roamed the establishment and the streets, sidelining them from their jobs.

"Tell Sashari to attend to him," Tubbs ordered. 

As soon as his employee fetched the black and blue-furred female that was the establishment's serving girl, Tubbs's eyes fell on the SFF officer, a bronze-skin man with a graying black mustache that seemed like he had hailed from Doraq. On either side of him sat two Kithar ladies, presumably his escorts, while he watched several scantily-clad ladies dancing on the podium. The moment Sashari went up to serve the officer his drink and sandwich, the Survivalist reached over and gripped the serving girl's hips, pulling her close. Seeing his employee being treated so poorly made Tubbs's  blood boil, but he had to hold it together for the plan. It would only be a matter of time until the Survivalists got what was coming to them.

"Hello Captain." Tubbs saluted the Survivalist. "I hope you are finding everything to your liking."

The officer turned and smiled at the establishment's owner. "Yes, I am finding myself very comfortable thanks to your accommodations."

The Kithar chuckled. "Well, I have you to thank for the uptick in business.Before the occupation, business was going poorly, but now I have no lack of customers, mainly you Survivalists."

"And I will gladly support you. After all, it is fair to reciprocate support." The officer handed him a few hundred Lyra notes, the currency of the Offworld, and a holocard that contained his name and number. "In the event you need to contact me, my info is listed on my card. I look forward to crossing paths with you again-possibly tomorrow night if nothing that requires my attention pops up."

Tubbs looked through the card, bobbing his head up and down.  "Without a doubt. I am sure your forces are all that puts terrorist and criminal syndicates down, Captain Imanull. "

As the Kithar walked away, twiddling his whiskers with a paw, he heard a shout coming from outside. Glancing out the round window, he spotted a couple SFF patrolmen shooting at the feet of several prisoners, bearing the ripped uniform of the former Kittyopolis military, as they were being marched down the street. Their overseers, a Kaneen, a pale glowing humanoid Voss,and a beige-colored Savajan with spikes on his bald head, jeered at the helpless prisoners and even joined into the fun as well, possibly having helpless military prisoners dancing to avoid laser gun fire as their best source of entertainment. Shaking his head in disgust, the former captain walked to his office. Nodding at the two SFF MPs, noticeable by their royal blue helmets, he entered his personal quarters by activating a small button on the side of the sliding door. Glancing out the window to see each street corner manned by an SFF police detail or soldier as well as Stingers and Wasps flying by, he thumbed his pe-shaped transponder that he had hidden in his shirt pocket.