Topic: The Cantina

The dimly lit cantina was almost entirely deserted. Smoke swirled in the near stagnant air from a trio of ithorians seated in a corner. They were smoking from an elaborate device in a the center of their table. The device bubbled more loudly than the low sub sonic tones of their non-humanoid communication.

The bartender was a grizzled, gray-furred bothan with a myriad of scars and a patch over one eye. The bothan was cleaning his teeth with a large knife and occasionally drinking from a tall glass of corellian ale.

Aside from the ithorians the only other patrons were two humanoids sitting on stools at the far end of the bar.

One of the humanoids was a tall, lithe, and dark-haired human with angular features. He shook a large bottle with his gloved finger over the top. The mechanical agitation reactivated the chemical reaction within and a thin layer of ice formed around the outside of the bottle. He took took a deep swig and then exhaled with an unsurprised grimace.  A cloud of ice crystals poured from his breath.

The dark-haired human wore the typical garb of freelance mercenary: battle-scarred light armor, a filthy gray scarf hanging around his neck, and probably everything he owned strapped somewhere on his body. The most notable of his possessions was an archaic scattergun with a sawed-off barrel holstered at his thigh.

The filthy merc was also covered in blood that was in various phases of clotting and drying. His left eye was bruised and swollen shut. He moved stifly and painfully, like he had just been in a severe speeder accident

The blonde female sitting next to the filthy merc seemed entirely out of place in the grimy cantina. She sat with perfect posture, wearing a black long-sleeved dress with almost no skirt that hugged her long, flawless legs. She looked like she belonged in an upper city nightclub on Coruscant.

The female humanoid's eyes were almost entirely obscured by a huge mass of golden blonde curls that fell on her shoulders like a mantle.

"Sathik, you need medical treatment," the blonde spoke in a low and judgmental tone.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Sathik scoffed mischievously and took another drink. The merc gave a long sigh filled with ice crystals. He slouched contentedly in the barstool and leaned heavily on the bar.

"Sathik--" The blonde started.

"Sssshhhhhh." The merc put a single black-gloved finger over her full lips, "I'm drinking, Lola." He took another drink and this time had almost no grimace at all.

Lola forcefully moved the merc's gloved hand away from her face,"Sathik, you have *brain* damage."

"Probably why I'm feeling nostalgic." Sathik set the bottle down heavily with another sigh. He looked over the empty cantina with the good eye that wasn't swollen shut, "This place used to be full of the meanest bounty hunters, mercs, and assassins this side of the galaxy."

Lola inclined her head and her giant mass of yellow curls shifted as she listened to the reminiscing merc.

"You wouldn't believe what we used to get up too," Sathik grinned , "Did I ever tell you I worked with a *Jedi* once?"

Lola blinked her thick black lashes once without signs of being impressed.

"This is the kind of place where anything could happen..." Sathik glanced at the door and then downed another swig from the bottle.

[OOC] I suppose I should have been more clear about leaving an open invitation. Come one, come all! Mercs, bounty hunters, smugglers, and maybe any of you "heroes" if you dare. Let's get the party in the Cantina going! Time period is Ep 7. Feel free to come and socialize with your latest character idea as you please :) Fly casual! [/OOC]

Sathik looked down at the ground despondently with the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut when whatever magical event he was waiting for didn’t happen.  Just as he went to finish off the bottle in his hand with a final swig, the cantina door burst open. The bounty hunter looked up excitedly, a shameless smile across his bruised face with blood splatter still visible on his angular features under the dim lights hanging over the bar.

The smile quickly changed into abject horror.

Sathik quickly whirled around to face the blonde sitting next to him and swore under his breath. He strategically moved his body to hide Lola from the view of the cantina entrance.

“What is it?” Lola’s large mass of blonde curls floating around her head moved gently from the even the slightest motion she gave while speaking.

Sathik put a black-gloved hand up in a futile attempt to hide his face as he spoke in a low voice, “Guavian death gang. On the count of three, we hop over the counter and get to the back—”

A large metallic prosthetic hand that whirred with the sound of servos in motion suddenly grabbed the filthy, dark haired bounty hunter’s shoulder and spun him around on the bar stool.

Sathik frowned up at the cybernetically enhanced gangster that towered over him.

The Guavian death gang member had a completely mechanical left arm up to his bicep, cybernetic implants on the left side of his grim tribal tattooed face, and a cybernetic left eye that glowed with an ominous red light. He wore the red and black high impact Gorget armor typical of the ruthless gang. The gangster stayed arm’s reach away from the and had both hands on his rifle as he sized up the bounty hunter on the barstool with a disgusted grimace.

“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” The cybernetically enhanced gangster asked with displeasure.  Two more armored gangsters stood silently Behind their more obviously cybernetically enhanced leader. They were faceless in notorious red masks marked only with a black swirl and held matching sawed-off percussion rifles pointed at the floor.

“I helped with the Black Sun clean up your boss did on the old Imperial Installation on Gall.” Sathik set the still frosted-over bottle he had been drinking on the bar but didn’t take his hand off it. His slender fingers dragged the glass against the wood idly in a circular motion, “I remember seeing you there. They call you ‘Grave’ right?”

“Graves.” The gangster corrected and spoke with disgust that contorted the tribal tattoos on his face, “I knew I recognized the smell. You fit right in with that Black Sun garbage.”

Sathik smugly held his gloved hands out with an unashamed shrug, “Can’t knock good camouflage.”

“So, do you want to tell me where a two-bit bounty hunter such as yourself found a girl like that?” The gangster called Graves interrogated darkly.

“That’s a girl?” Sathik pointed a thumb disbelievingly behind himself at the blonde, “Could have fooled me.”

Sathik smiled wickedly at the glare Lola gave him before looking back at the cybernetically enhanced gangster.

“You really thought that you could get away with human replica droid in plain sight?” Graves pointed his rifle threateningly at Sathik’s chest, making a motion with his prosthetic hand in Lola’s direction.

“Ohhhhhh, that’s the new Tostovin isn’t it?” Sathik gazed at the illegal percussion rifle in Grave’s hand with obvious *want*.

“Oh, yeah, you want a better look?” The gangster shifted his grip on the rifle to show it to the bounty hunter, only to change his motion suddenly and  crack it down in a ruthless swing against the side of the bounty hunter’s skull.

Sathik sat there, wincing, until turning his head to look he saw that Lola had grabbed the barrel of the rifle and stopped it mere centimeters from his ear.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Graves.” Lola was standing now, and when the gangster tried to pull back the rifle it didn’t move from where it was held in the blonde’s flawless and deceptively delicate looking hand.

The two other Guavian death gang soldiers raised their rifles at the bounty hunter and the human replica droid.

“WAIT!” Sathik put his hands out frantically with a shout that caused everyone to pause and look.

“Fellas, look,” The bounty hunter stood with his hands still out between him and the armored gangsters, “I know you’re upset and you’re just trying to do your job, but go ahead and surrender and I *promise* you’ll get preferential, bordering on gentle…possibly even lover like treatment.”

The cybernetically enhanced death gang soldiers stared.

“No?” Sathik looked them all over and then a mischievous grin spread across his face, “Fine.”

The black-haired bounty hunter twisted away from the percussion rifle next to him as it fired and while using Graves as cover from the other two gangsters, he pulled out a large knife scarred and serrated knife that had come from seemingly nowhere. Sathik sunk the large knife into Grave’s mechanical arm and flicked a switch that sent an explosive jolt of electricity that sparked along the mechanical arm.

Name: Tysler Kern
Species: Pantoran
Gender: Female
Age: 34
Occupation: Freelance logistics co-ordinator (some might lean towards smuggler)
Appearance: Blue skin, black hair tied into a ponytail, yellow markings on her cheeks which look like opposing stretched P’s. She wears a brown flight suit with black overcoat.

-

Tysler Kern’s feet ached as she walked, “I miss having a ship,” she said with a glare at her brother.

“What? How was I to know the sabacc game was rigged?”

“Josel, gambling is just a fancy word for stealing your goods.”

“Na-uh, you need to buy a dictionary.”

“I’d prefer to purchase some common sense for you.”

“With this face, I can get away with anything.”

Tysler eyed her brother as they walked; he was a good looking Pantoran man. His azure skin and navy coloured hair only seemed to attract more female attention than was warranted. “Your charm does not work on me, brother.”

Josel shrugged, “As family it is your duty to forgive all my sins and I in turn do so for you.”

“You’re full of it, you know that?”

He shrugged, “I refuse to comment.”

“Whatever. Now how do you plan to get our ship back?”

“I know a guy.”

“Right and where might this guy be?”

“In a bar.”

“Of course he is, now can you be more specific.”

He pointed to a dingy cantina four buildings down, “That place right there.”

“The one that looks like a rancor sat on it after vomiting on it?”

“Yep, that’s the place.”

She rolled her eyes, “Just peachy.”

“You might want to get your blaster out, looks like some Guavian death dudes just strolled in.”

“How about we wait until they kill whoever it is that ticked them off and then go in.”

“And miss the fun, nah!”

“I swear you were adopted.”

“Since I’m three years older than you, you’ll never know.”

Tysler shook her head in disgust. Reaching into her overcoat pocket she pulled out a pair of tiny droids. Both unfolded into six-legged spider like mechanisms. “Take out the Guavians please,” she whispered to them before placing them on the ground. The mice sized droids scuttled off with minimal sound.

“I consider that cheating,” Josel stated.

“Cheating versus getting dead, hmm I pick cheating.”

“Fair enough, now let’s do this quietly.”

“Are you capable of shutting up for five minutes?”

He glared at her as they approached the cantina entrance.

Inside they could hear the horrendous attempt at smooth talking from a very filthy human male. Tysler could see that Josel was dying to throw out some smart remark. Before he could open his lips the filthy man attacked the Guavian leader. In tandum her droids dropped the leader’s backup with electric shocks. They both stepped inside as the filthy man and his out of place woman continued their own fight.

(Shame the RP section is so dead. But I'll post for old time's sake.)

Name: Jojo Taldon
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Occupation: Codebreaker
Appearance: Jojo's most striking feature is her scraggly, poorly dyed orange and brown hair. Her skin has a fair complexion. Right now she's sporting a borrowed utility worker's jumpsuit. The army green tanker boots are hers.

Jojo brushed her utility disguise uncomfortably. To say that it smelled “off” would be putting it mildly. The comm in her ear crackled.

"Can you hear me, Jojo?" a male voice asked.

"All too well," replied the harried woman.

"Focus. You're just outside the cantina now."

"Are you sure they serve drinks here?" Jojo asked examining the building skeptically. "Seems more like waste processing or something."

"This is the location,” responded the man. “Now repeat the plan back to me."

Jojo sighed and ducked into an alleyway on the western side of the building.

The voice on her comm belonged to a legendary information broker known only as the Op. No one knew his real identity and that made him dangerous-- a fact that the young slicer had learned too late on a previous job.

"Jojo," said the Op. "I'm waiting."

"Okay. In a nutshell: The target, Kervex Driscoll, is the one-eyed Bothan bartender so he'll be easy to spot. I'll sweep the joint for possible complications and then set off, erm, a distraction. (Right?) Anyway, once I’m away from Driscoll’s prying eye, I make my way into the back room and bypass the safe. If the intel is correct, it should contain documents linking Driscoll to several criminal warrants off-world. I hand this off to the female Ithorian who should already be posted at one of the tables inside. Then... I have a snack?"

Jojo heard a cough on the comm's other end.

"I do hope you're taking this assignment seriously, Jojo." said the voice evenly. "Considering the substantial debt you now have on my books."

"Yeah, yeah," said the young slicer. "I know the score, jack. But after this, we're square like Coruscanters. Got it?"

The Op coughed again.

"Wrong, my dear," he said. "I own you. Until I decide otherwise. That's the price for forgetting that you're operating in my city.

Jojo ran a sticky palm across her brow. Lately, it seemed like every time she got a boot off her neck, there was another one waiting to take it's place. She knew she'd find an out eventually thanks to small but trustworthy network of informants. Perhaps one of the street gangs would benefit from a disruption to the Op's credit flow.

It took a moment to realize the voice was speaking again.

"I'm going to lose you once you're inside," said the Op. "There's an archaic, but effective jamming signal hardwired into the Cantina's walls. Commlinks will be useless. Our friend Driscoll is rather paranoid it seems."

Jojo resisted the urge to snort.

"Great," she said quickly. "Thanks for the motivation, Op. Talk to you later."

She switched off her comm and pocketed the earpiece.

"Or never."

Jojo rounded the corner of the alley. Two Pantoran spacers— one female, one male --were just entering the bar. Jojo took a breath and followed blue humanoids inside.

Things happened immediately.

"What the--"

Jojo had found herself in the middle of some kind of brawl. Two unfortunate Guavians hit the floor right as she entered. Nearby a gorgeous female in an upscale-looking dress watched a terrifying and bloodied mercenary grapple with another ganger.

The Pantorans stepped over the unfortunate muscle. The azure-skinned woman bent down to scoop up two spider-like droid where they immediately disappeared into the folds of her overcoat.

“Okay, I can get used to cheating,” quipped Josel.

Like lightning, Sathik produced a very illegal-looking knife and plunged it into Graves’ mechanical arm before flipping a switch to deliver a shock of his own.

The electricity caused Graves’ whole body to contract before he summoned enough resolve floor Sathik with a vicious backhand from his good arm.

In an instant, Lola swept the Guavian’s legs out from under him before straightening back up. The motion was so fluid and graceful it struck Jojo as superhuman.

Droid, thought Jojo. Definitely a replica.

It seemed that the code breaker had stumbled upon the perfect distraction. Unfortunately, the placement was inconvenient— the only way to the back area was through a reinforced door past the bar stools about 5 meters behind Lola in full sight of all the occupants including the bartender.

There was a low humming sound.

Speaking of whom.

Kervex stood up behind the bar and raised two antique blaster pistols. One was trained on the Lola and the other was leveled at the newly arrived Pantorans.

“Who are you?” growled the eye-patched Bothan looking at Josel.

The blue-skinned man raised his hands.

“Name’s Josel Kern. This is my sister, Tysler. I was told to inquire here about... reaquisitions.”

Pause.

"We want our ship back." said Tysler.

"Sis..." groaned Josel.

Tysler finally noticed the female slicer, also raising her hands, standing in the doorway.

“Who are you?” she asked Jojo.

Jojo looked down at her uniform.

“Maintenance crew,” she fibbed. “Your neighbors are having trouble with their power couplings and I wanted to check on your uplink to the grid.”

Sathik laughed from the floor.

“Your timing is... impeccable!”

Jojo looked at Kervex and his blasters.

“But of course I can come back if you were gonna, um, shoot someone.”