Dewin
Overlord
Posts: 776
|
Post by Dewin on Aug 19, 2022 18:24:41 GMT
"Well, this is going bloody poorly" Karl thought to himself as he walked away from his conversation with the Mandalorian. Masked warrior had traded frequencies with him after offering to buy him a drink if they ever met again. Apparently the man was heading to outer rim for more work is his commentary was to be believed.
Good, further away from me the better Karl thought as the Mandalorian mounted his hoverbike and ride off into the streets.
"One problem down, frak ton still to go" Karl grumbled to nobody in particular before taking to swig from his brandy bottle. The hell with it's rarity, after that he needed a drink.
Picking up the direction of where his supposed fellow stragglers had left, he thought to himself what he gone wrong. Displaying the Fish as spice lightweight should have been enough for him to gracefully back down from his offer without either side losing any major face. Apparently the Jirano was far lightweight and temper prone than he had imaged.
Abandoning the ship wasn't a option as that would raise the required credits by order of magnitude. Sometimes he really despised having to work with people.
Forcefully masking up again, Karl picked up his pace as whatever passed for rain here started to fall from the heavens. Of course it would rain now.
Opening his commlink, he opened his contacts and called Victoria.
"Vic" "Karl. How did the meeting go?" He heard the streetdok from the other side of commlink, with music in the background.
"It got frakkked. Fish from the boat got dozed in spice and kowtowed to the Hutt. Wouldn't be a problem if he hadn't dragged me in as well as being part of his supposed crew. I got bounty money without problem if nothing else" He talked to his commlink, confident that the muffling of his helmet would block any coherent external voice.
"Well, frak. Things are in order on my end. I managed to get a potential buyer for those weapons you mentioned. I'm sending you the meetup coordinates, come see me"
"I'm going to have to wrap up some loose ends before that. See you" Closing off the channel, Karl picked up his pace as he was forced to push through panicking crowd. Apparently some lunatic was going on another shooting spree.
Somehow he wasn't surprised to find a teddybear with flamethrower at the end after he had pushed his way through the crowd. Of course it had to be him of all people. Although, he wasn't sure why he was burning bouncers next to brothel of all places.
Discarding the multitude of questions and the headache that the teddybear was causing, he used to distraction to make his way towards his target, the short Corellian pilot still fuming with red tinted eyes, something that he already saw intensifying as she saw him.
It was either this or Jinaro, and the human girl didn't carry small armoury worth of knives on her.
"Zira." He said in detached clinical voice.
"Handing over the corpse over is the only reason why we still have a ship. It was either that or losing it to Mandalorian weapons." Raising his hand, he decidedly talked over her.
"I could offer you me condolences over the late captain, but I think we both know those from me means nothing. Only thing that matters currently is credits and if selling deadmeat gets me closer to leaving this blasted hellhole then so be it."
"Unlike you, I have potential buyer for the weapons on the line. If you have that much energy for fuming you could at least do something for those credits sake, rather than playing hero fantasy." Sighing loudly, he could already feel to headache starting. Dismissing the Corellian, he turned away and started walking off.
"Oh. One thing Zira. Tell Jinaro, that if he pulls shit like that again on me, I'm going to put a cap on him regardless of how much kitchenware he hoards" With that passing remark he marched off ignoring the shouting behind him.
|
|
|
Post by Warork on Aug 19, 2022 19:13:33 GMT
'This little furry hellion is quite the bundle of contradictions,' was the only clear thought Zira could hold onto as a man was engulfed in flames in front of her and the people on the street who witnessed what had happened formed a loose crowd of onlookers who were all understandably concerned.
Before she'd had much chance to react to Ego's choices of social interaction, however, Karl reappeared and offered her...some words.
Was the man trying to apologize? Zira could only look at him in annoyed confusion as he spoke. She had a million things she wanted to say and they all conflicted with each other. "I don't blame you." was on of the things that crossed her mind but it was mostly a lie...sure the bounty wasn't personal and sure the galaxy was cruel and sometimes one had to do what they had to do for credits...
...But that didn't change the fact that it was personal to her.
"I hate you." was another thing she wanted to say. But it was also mostly a lie. Zira didn't know Karl, had just met him barely a handful of hours ago, in fact. The man looked like he had seen too much of the darker side that the universe had to offer already...perhaps he really was that jaded. Maybe the whole group was just a pay day to him, waiting to be cashed in the moment one of them dropped dead. She didn't know how much to blame him...wasn't Gordulla the one who put out the bounty after all? Wasn't this whole thing mostly that damn Hutt's fault?
Her feelings burned and roiled inside her. She simply looked Karl in the eye and nodded.
And then the parting blow...he just had to bring her uncle into this.
"What the kark do I look like, his messenger?!" Zira exploded suddenly, without a second thought. "Why don't you go find him and tell him yourself, you karking coward! And while you're at it maybe remember you're not the only dick with a blaster on this stupid rock!"
She watched him leave and ground her teeth at his retreating silhouette, grumbling a certain phrase about Bantha fodder in Huttese under her breath. Turning back to the crowd and to Ego she watched as the Twi'lek escort that had been the source of this whole debacle poured a bucket of water on the flash fried lump that used to be her boss. Zira's rage was still caught in her throat as the crowd whispered and cursed amongst themselves.
"Alright break it up you monkey lizards!" She shouted as loud as she could while walking up to Ego. "Anyone else want to give us the business or have you all seen enough?!"
At that prompting, many in the crowd immediately turned and went on their way. Whatever had just gone down was none of their business and not unique in the Vorgano district besides. These streets were often lawless and the earlier cacophony of the street fight was still fresh in their minds no doubt. Watching them go, Zira turned to the Ewok.
"C'mon Ego, we need to get out of here. Karl's an ass but he's right. We need to find some ways to help fix the ship."
She took one last look at the man Ego had turned into a human candle and then turned back to her murderous yet polite little associate.
"We're gonna have to talk about the tribes of this planet." She said as she began walking away from the scene, hoping he'd follow her. "There are thousands of them, if not millions in this city alone and none of them like it when an outsider torches one of their own, even if in self defense. That's why we probably need to leave before more of his tribe shows up."
|
|
|
Post by Darko on Aug 19, 2022 20:01:57 GMT
Albedan wrinkled his nose and grimaced in response to the smell of charred flesh that filled his nostrils. He overheard the venom exchanged between Zira and Karl as he glanced at the evidently psychotic ewok - if he was anything to go by, the Empire's defeat on Endor suddenly made a lot more sense. He shook his head partially in disgust and also in a vague attempt to clear his mind from the effects of all the spice smoke in the Hutt's penthouse.
"What am I even doing?" He murmured aloud to himself. A misfit band of rebel sympathisers and unhinged lunatics, nevermind the ancient battle droid that belonged in a museum and was definitely a cross-wired hazard to health just as likely to mistake him for a clone trooper and shoot him in the back. He'd come to the outer rim for a fresh start and leave all the problems of his past behind. Since then, he'd nearly been killed by imperials who not long ago he would've called brothers in arms and dragged through a Hutt spice den while the others passive-aggressively threatened each other. It was only a matter of time before they turned on each other; for money, the ship or the finer points of morality. Whatever it was, he didn't plan to be trapped in a tiny freighter when it happened. With one last glance at each of them as they bickered or stormed off to find more trouble, he stepped back and receded into the dispersing crowd, disappearing into the unknowable masses going about their business. This was about as far from Republic or Imperial entanglements as he was going to get and he figured it was as good a place as any to start his new life. He would find the first cloud car out of this district he could and try his luck in another city far away from these lunatics, maybe sign on with another crew or work as hired muscle. He breathed a sigh of relief as his future became his own once again for the first time since he signed up for the Imperial army.
|
|
|
Post by Darko on Aug 19, 2022 20:49:03 GMT
Hunched over his desk, Zimbar groaned. His protocol droid was holding an ice pack on his bruised forehead while he sulked and terminated the two-way communication feed on his computer display. He had just arranged for some local muscle to come and act as extra security since the mandalorian incident - and they had not been cheap. In case that armoured freak came calling again, he'd gotten the best he could afford and he hoped it was worth it. They had disruptor rifles at least, so they wouldn't just be useless target practice even if an army of mandalorians with personal shields tried to storm his office. He snorted, almost wishing that tin can would try just so he could watch him get atomized. He unsteadily rose to his feet and shuffled into the back room, inputting the nine-digit code into his safe and retrieved a large stack of credit chits from within. This would set back his plans to retire by another year, maybe two, but his rainy day fund wouldn't do him much good if he was dead. He nudged the safe shut with his foot and hobbled into his office, plucking a ripe lujka fruit from a bowl next to the refridgeration unit as he passed. He gracelessly shoved the entire thing into his mouth and purple juice leaked down his chin and dripped onto his shirt, already drenched in sweat and dry blood from the mandalorian's armoured gauntlet splitting his skull open... at least, that's what it felt like.
Zimbar flicked through the credit chits, counting them out until he reached five-thousand. He felt frustrated at the cost, angry that these cheapskates kept trying to cheat him out of fair payment for his services and incredibly annoyed by the type of headache he usually only expected the morning after visiting his favourite cantina.
"Sir, you requested that I remind you the Vorn insisted on having their ship repainted by the morning and you have not yet retasked the astromechs from Gordulla's yacht," said the droid.
"Oh, yes of course... of course. See to it immediately," Zimbar muttered with his mouth full, spraying flecks of lujka fruit onto the droid's face. It did not react except to glance at the floor as if to sigh and slowly turned to do as it was told.
A blinking light on the computer display immediately caught Zimbar's attention and he landed back into his chair, depressing the suspension strut with the impact, as he sucked the last bits of juice off his fingers.
"Great, just frakking great," he grumbled. "Of course after these ungrateful clients and that bounty hunter scum, of course there's something else."
He pressed a few buttons and brought up the video feed from the cameras in the lobby leading to the street. "Now of course I have to deal with more street rats. Blasted droid, why did you not alert me?"
"I sent a notice to your wrist device one-quarter cycle ago," replied the droid bluntly without stopping, disappearing into the elevator and shutting the doors before Zimbar could say another word.
"My wrist device..." Only now did Zimbar actually notice it was no longer attached to his arm. He furrowed his brow in confusion, his dull eyes looking around the room trying to figure out where he'd left it. Then it occurred to him. "Those moon-brained, ungrateful, thieving little... of course... First they won't pay my very reasonable fees and now they dare steal from me?!" He slammed a greasy fist on his desk, wincing slightly as he hurt himself.
"Well, they'll have to pay one way or another of course..." A wide grin spread across his face as scheming thoughts began to approach the forming of a coherant plan of action.
"Excuse me, are you the proprietor?" Asked a dour-faced human with matted black hair showing signs of greying. He wore a plain casual suit with a snub-blaster at his hip.
"But of course my new friend," replied Zimbar with as much feigned enthusiasm as he could currently muster. He was waving in a group of six armed individuals in helmeted void suits, not even looking at the man who had addressed him. "Now remember, it's the ship in bay 1. Search it from top to bottom and unload anything of value you find. That's bay 1. Bay. One. If you get it wrong you'll be dealing with the Vorn or Gordulla, so... erm... don't get it wrong!"
"We're not dock hands, Zimbar. I expect extra for this," the biggest one demanded, evidently a Zabrak by the way his helmet was shaped to accomodate his horns.
"Of course, Vorak, of course... All in due time. Now please just get on with it, I want every last thing on that ship in the cargo bay before those cheapskate space trash get back."
"Right, whatever you say boss," said Vorak. "Just tell me if you want them shot on sight?"
"Hmmm.... No, not right away, just have your men ready in case they try to be unreasonable... pfft... of course they will, of course..."
"Excuse me, I've been waiting here for over an hour," the human interjected again.
"A thousand apologies my friend! A minor incident occurred earlier and I had to make new security arrangements, to ensure the safety of guests such as yourself of course!"
"Sure, fine, listen. I'm here to collect a body that I understand was being transported on a YT-2000 freighter docked here. Given the nature of dead bodies, I'm sure you'll want it removed as soon as possible just as much as I do."
"Oh, oh I see. I have some bad news for you my friend, that corpse is long since gone. The crew carrying it were dishonourable enough to enlist a bounty hunter to come in here, assault me in my place of work and probably... I don't know, harvest the organs on the black market or something."
"They... what? We are talking about the same ship?"
"I've only got one YT-2000 in my dock, my good friend, and I have the entire thing holographically recorded by my security cameras. For a small fee, of course, I could give you a copy of this footage."
The man looked away for a moment, a flash of anger in his eyes. "Fine. Make it quick. If what you say is true, then I have some arrangements to make."
Zimbar raised his left arm, a crude and outdated computer with a rough strap that itched his skin now in the place of the one that was stolen. He muttered under his breath about the extra expenses and keyed a few commands into the bulky device. A few minutes later a couple of credits had exchanged hands and one of his astromech units rolled into the lobby, playing the full recording from bay 1 from the moment the YT-2000 had landed, to the entire crew assembled in front of the ship when Zimbar had greeted them and right up to when one of them had dragged a body off the ship with the help of a mandalorian. Zimbar inserted a data rod into the droid and after a moment, turned and handed it to the other man.
"Of course, everything I told you was true."
"Hmph. I see. That is unfortunate. Thank you for this recording," said the man who wasted no time leaving the building in a hurry. Zimbar pocketed the credits and dismissively waved his hand at the astromech, which rotated on the spot and trundled off to resume painting the Vorn starship. For a second Zimbar had entirely forgotten the other man standing in the room, eager to return to his office and lock the door.
"Yes? What is it you want?"
The second man shakily rose from the uncomfortable chair he'd waited in, stepping into the light in the cramped lobby and approaching until he stood far too close to Zimbar for his liking. The man wore a tattered robe that one would expect to see on the back of a street beggar. By the stars, Zimbar really hoped this wasn't one of those. The way he smelled, it was a distinct possibility... that was, at least, until Zimbar saw his face and clothes under the robe. A flash of imperial insignia, the dried blood and raw cuts across his face. Someone had really taken a disliking to this guy.
"I want... to get off... this disgusting moon. I need a ship, or at least a crew with a ship that won't ask questions. I don't know what kind of two-bit operation you are running here keeping me waiting this long but luckily for you I'm desperate. Get me on a ship and I can give you a small fortune of imperial credits, untraceable. Is that acceptable to you?"
"Hmm... of course, my friend. A small fortune you say... perhaps this day won't turn out so bad after all," Zimbar's wolfish grin returned once more as he wrapped an arm behind the newcomer's back, careful not to actually touch him. "Let's step into my office and talk business."
|
|
|
Post by halonachos on Aug 19, 2022 22:50:22 GMT
"Yes," Ego replied "we should indeed move away from this location. That madame said that there was a 'creep' around and I am beginning to think that the large barbarian was not the 'creep', but I do thank you for understanding that I was not the one who was in the wrong."
"I did not say that." Zira said quickly, "I said it was self defense."
"I was just going to ask that Madame why her kind seemed to be so popular that others would gather them." Ego defended himself "Sir Gordulla had some, that building had a bright sign with them on it. So I wanted to know if Madame Shakka's kind were akin to droids as some have droids and some droids, like Sir Roger2, don't have owners. That Madame demanded credits so I told her that I don't have credits so I told her that I had a flamethrower and no credits."
"That's a lot to unpack to tell you how wrong all that is." Zira cringed mentally. "First I would recommend you definitely do not ask Shakka about her kind and people 'owning' them. Second never tell someone you have a flamethrower when they ask for credits, it sounds like a threat."
"Oh," Ego came to a sudden stop "Oh dear. Oh my. So I said something inappropriate to that Madame?"
"Yes." Zira turned to see Ego standing still, his hand on his chin contemplating this information.
"I..." he began "I need to apologize to the Madame and that brutish man post haste. It is the right thing to do." And made his way to turn back "but then their tribe might come after us and if they do then I can't fulfill avenging my tribe."
"Either way, you can deal with that after we sell our cargo so we can get off of this rock." Zira began heading away agin to the shop.
"Yes, that makes sense. I can give them some credits after we procure them." Ego walked as fast as he could to stay at pace with Zira. "In regards to Sir Karl I hope that he is not an ass as you say. Perhaps he is just as upset with this situation as yourself and Sir Uncle-Jirano. I do believe that the only one not upset so far is Madame Shakka." He mused
"Well if she is then she's good at hiding it at least." Zira eyed the throng of people in front of them, just in case someone had already come to the bouncer's aid. Just the two of them couldn't handle a gang coming at them at the moment. Luckily there were just as many groups on this planet as there were stars in the galaxy and hopefully at least some of them hated the guy Ego had just burnt to a crisp.
==============
The shop had been tucked in an alley, but the smell of metal and oils that lingered around the shop definitely gave an indication that they sold some kind of weaponry. Going down the busy alleyway, hand near her weapon, came to a dimly lit stall in front of a dirty shop. "This is the place I believe." Zira attempted to read the sign and could only make out the phrase "hardwares", the rest either covered in grafitti or stickers of various types. She opened the door and let Ego in first.
"How can I help you?" Said a shockingly pleasant voice from behind a shiny metal counter.
"We are looking to sell guns." Ego said as he approached the counter.
"Frak sake." Zira muttered "We are trying to offload some cargo. The issue is, we need some discretionary means of removal."
"Oh, how discretionary are we talking?" The voice's source stepped up to the counter and illuminated the features of a rather slim and well kept man.
"Nothing disposed of, just sold." Zira replied.
"I can work a deal, I don't buy them personally but I know people who do. You give me a small finder's fee and you get your cargo sold." The smiled as sweetly as he could muster. "Of course if you don't like that fee then you can try to find someone on your own."
"It reeks of blaster oil in here." Zira stated "I know you've got something here so I know you buy."
Ego looked around the shop, it seemed mostly empty to him except for some smaller things that looked like attachments.
"Ah yes," the man replied "I of course buy, but not discretely. I want to help you, so how about you just tell me what cargo you have and I'll see if I have buyers? Free of charge of course, unless you decide to utilize my services."
Zira listed the manifest to the man who merely nodded and listened to it. Nothing written but most likely recorded if the shop keeper was worth his weight in credits.
"I can take the blasters off of your hands, I don't mind selling good equipment when I can help it." He thought about the others "I do know someone who doesn't care about energy signatures, and I would only request a 15% cut to arrange that sale."
"Well that's something I'll have to discuss with the crew." Zira said, but yeah we can look to delivering the blasters at least.
"Very well, is there anything else I can help you with? I see the furry one looking around."
Ego looked up "I would like to make this able to cut through metal as well as burn things." He said while patting his flamethrower.
"I have something that can do that my friend." The man replied "A varied burn focus, only costs 350 credits."
"I do not have credits..." Ego said, cutting himself off before finishing and then turned to Zira and nodded in satisfaction of learning his manners.
"Ah," the man said disappointedly, "then why are you asking if I have product?"
"I apologize Sir..." Ego began.
"You don't need to know my name." The man replied.
"Very well, I apologize Sir You-don't-need-to-know-my-name." Ego bowed, "I shall not waste your time in the future."
"Is he stupid?" The man looked at Zira quizically.
At some point he would pay for that offense, but for now it seemed as if he was a source of credits needed for the hyperdrive.
|
|
Castiel
Rising Legend
Lord of the West
Forth Eorlingas!
Posts: 644
|
Post by Castiel on Aug 20, 2022 16:11:32 GMT
Roger 2 followed the group out of the Hutt's palace, reviewing their objectives.
1) Survive and protect central processor. 2) Acquire upgraded combat and processing ability. 3) Acquire weapon to improve capability at close range. 4) Consider other upgrades to weaponry and chassis function if suitable and compatible.
The interaction had been confusing, organics were always unpredictable, ruled by impulses and desires that were entirely Illogical, but the Hutt had at least offered them a job and an opportunity to acquire currency. He had even provided the unit designated as Karl with some currency in exchange for the cranium and processor of Captain Kest. Roger2 had never had any use for currency before, he had always been under instruction from a command droid, or later passed from designated organic superior to superior. All repairs or maintenance requirements had been paid for by these command units. Now, they suddenly found they required to provide for themself.
Roger2 paused to consider this. They were not only required to provide for themself, but also responsible for their decision making and future planning due to the absence of a designated command unit. They considered the implications for a second. Decision pathways and logic trees spiralled into infinity, as endless possibilities were processed. Their processing overloaded for a split second and rebooted, vision going black and limbs locking rigid.
When they came back to functionality 4.83 seconds later, Shakka and Jirano had disappeared and Ego was in the process of bathing a burly looking individual in flames over some perceived slight as Zira stood to the side, mouth open in shock and Karl facepalmed heavily, before exchanging terse words with Zira and stalking off. Roger2 had never encountered an Ewok before and wondered if they were all so obsessed with fire, unstable and prone to violent rage? He certainly seemed to harbour a psychopathic tendency that his diminutive stature and fuzzy appearance belied. However, a few sharp words from Zira seemed to cow the small creature and it followed, chastened, in her footsteps as she stalked away from the scene rapidly.
Roger2 surveyed the aftermath of the incident. The Twi'lek had dumped water over the smouldering flesh of the bouncer, and was now knelt helplessly surveying the wreckage of the man, who lay face down in twisted agony breathing shallowly. Roger2 assessed the damage. 82% third degree burns, remaining areas second or first degree. Death almost certain. Organics were fragile that way. A small leather pouch on what was left of the individuals belt caught Roger2's attention. The pouch was charred to almost nothing, but beneath Roger2 saw a small flash of metal. They reached forwards and pulled forth a small handful of scorched currency. A quick tally suggested they now had 25 credits, although they were so heavily charred that some may no longer be accepted for use. The Twi'lek looked at them in disbelief. "What the fark do you think you are doing, clanker?"
"Analysis: due to damage sustained this individual is about to cease to function, and therefore no longer requires this currency. As this will render the currency without owner and this unit requires currency I am requisitioning it to meet my requirements. Supposition: if this individual is now deceased, or soon to be, do you require this unit's service to fulfill his protective capacity in exchange for currency compensation? This unit is significantly more resistant to flame than this individual."
The Twi'lek stared at Roger2, mouth opening and closing in confused rage as she tried to process his offer. "Kark off, clanker!" she spat venomously, at a loss for any other response.
Roger2 hastened after their companions, catching up to them as they entered a building that seemed to sell some form of weaponry. Roger2 waited patiently as Zira negotiated the sale of the spare weapons on the ship. This would facilitate the repairs to the hyperdrive and he could acquire a share of the credits to purchase required upgrades. Then Ego requested an upgrade to his flamethrower to help him cut through metal. Roger2 nodded in approval, this was a sensible acquisition and would improve the Ewoks combat capability against armoured opponent such as Clone Troopers, Mandalorians and droids should they require to engage with these, for example the IG unit such as the one at Nita's store. He calculated this would increase the combat efficiency of the small one by up to 25%. However, it turned out that the Ewok also lacked credits. This was good, aligned goals would increase unit cohesion within the Bontooine survivors.
"I apologize Sir..." Ego began.
"You don't need to know my name." The man replied.
"Very well, I apologize Sir You-don't-need-to-know-my-name." The Ewok bowed, "I shall not waste your time in the future."
"Is he stupid?" The shop owner enquired looking at Zira.
"Negative, I do not believe Ego suffers from impaired mental capacity. However, he does display a lack of experience in social interactions and erratic logical processing that result in violent and often pyroclastic outbursts." Roger2 replied. "As such this unit would advise that it is best to avoid distressing him unduly. This unit would also like to enquire about acquiring the necessary components to allow for the conversion of an E5 blaster to an E5s sniper subvarient when precise, long range engagements are required and the necessary fiscal compensation in exchange?"
|
|
|
Post by Draxy on Aug 21, 2022 12:54:09 GMT
She couldn't help but feel disappointed as Jirano used his own power to send the barman on his way. That seemed far harder than it should of been, that ability had long been something Shakka had practiced and perfected to the best of her ability. To see him struggle with something so simple... was she wrong? Did he truly know more than her? Or was he just more practiced in other years?
Her excitement, faded a little bit it was still there. The wonder at finding another like her, shining in her eyes. What else could be possible with her power? What could he teach her?
She perked up slightly when she heard the word 'trained', the girl wiggling slightly in her seat as she pressed her body up further against his staring into his eyes for any sign of a lie, their noses were practically touching.
"The Force?" She asked with some amusement, if she had eyebrows she surely would of been raising them. "Seriously? That's what it's called? I thought it must have some more grand sounding name, I've just been calling it my power... But you've been trained?" She tilted her head, a playful smirk still on her lip as her lekku hung down her back, curling around each other as she thought.
He was trained, that meant there had to be even more of them out there. Perhaps even a whole secret society hidden beneath the surface, what could he tell her? This had potential, she'd have to keep him close. If so...
"Teach me~" She practically purred, her breath tickling at his lips, she was close enough to kiss. She would get what she wants.
|
|
|
Post by Warork on Aug 22, 2022 18:21:05 GMT
Jirano suppressed a chuckle. "Yes, I thought it was a strangely vague name when my master first taught me of the Force too." His face carried a wan smile as he reminisced on older, simpler days but the smile was immediately gone when Shakka referred to the force as "hers."
"You cannot think of the Force as belonging to any one person. It has a will of its own and exists in and around everyone and everything..." He said somberly, the old wisdom of his teachers reasserting itself as he thought grimly on what he remembered of their faces...they had long since faded into the Force's eternal embrace and though he had often been taught to let go of the pain of that separation...he would be lying if he said that it did not still send a hollow ache into his chest upon its recall.
"...And yes I was trained...By an order of people with the same abilities as us no less. But that was a long time ago." Jirano sighed, frowning, "it might as well have been a lifetime ago as a matter of fact."
But the stroll down memory lane was not to last...as Shakka said the two words that Jirano's intuition told him would be the culmination of this fateful meeting...
"Teach me."
And why wouldn't she want that? The day Jirano himself had been taught of the Force's existence by his own master he had become eternally curious, forever fated from that moment to seek what his connection to the cosmic field that bound all living things meant in the grand scheme of galactic history. All Force sensitives were beckoned by the will of the Force to explore its meaning. He had never heard of one who had not been.
Jirano's immediate compulsion to simply agree surprised him...There were still many things he did not know about this woman; her past, her intentions, how she might use such knowledge or training if it was given to her. This was also to say nothing of how the idea was completely against every code and orthodox stricture he had been taught of how those able to wield the Force were trained. The Jedi had insisted on training only those beings who were young enough to lack emotional attachments and mental habits that the council considered especially dangerous...
Jirano didn't need to be told how perilous a Force user fallen to their darker impulses could be to the galaxy...
And yet...The council was gone...and with it the code. The Force had sundered them away just as it had sundered the Sith in its turn eventually. The Jedi Order had been eviscerated, the republic it defended murdered in cold blood in the same evil stroke. He had watched hope itself die; believing at the time it may never rise again. Only then, in the pit of final despair did a miraculous spark from the darkness ignite a fire in the galaxy that burned into something new. Jirano had observed with his own eyes how the Force had worked to do the inconceivable in both small and large matters regardless of codes, regardless of councils, regardless of rules or orders...and most importantly regardless of what the people of the galaxy considered possible or impossible.
'There is no death, there is the Force,' he recited in his mind.
He was sure of it. Or about as sure as he had ever been of anything since the death of the Order. He could count the number of force sensitive beings he had even heard of, much less met, who had survived unclaimed by the darkness that had risen that day on both of his hands...And here in this bar one was staring him directly in the face, asking him to teach her what he knew.
The Force had brought them together. He didn't know why and he supposed that didn't matter at this moment. The decision wasn't his, after all...it could only be the will of the Living Force...
"You have a most peculiar set of manners." Jirano said flippantly, cocking one of his brows at the playful Twi'lek. "Most who entered my order learned humility first. And patience besides...It got them much further than making foolish demands in any case."
With that, Jirano extricated himself from the booth, dumping Shakka unceremoniously in the seat he had been sitting in just a moment before.
"Consider this your first lesson; appealing to vanity or lust is not the key to all doors that you seem to think it is."
He stood to his full height and looked down to her, beckoning her to follow him with the motion of two fingers as he walked towards the door of the bar and back out into the street.
"Lesson two; learning to follow is just as important as learning to lead."
Reaching out through The Force he could sense a mixture of disappointment and curiosity mingling in a trail behind him. Despite himself, he smirked...Well, at least he had managed to grab her attention.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Vorgano district was not the most wealthy or luxuriant sector of Nar Shadaa by a long stretch. Jirano had been counting on this fact to find something suitable for this moment. It would not do to practice their abilities in the open and public streets...besides the obvious dangers of doing such a thing these days even in their heyday the Jedi had never been foolhardy enough to exhibit such arrogance...at least for the most part.
Jirano wasn't sure if "Jedi" was even an appropriate moniker for what he was anymore...but old habits died hard. That was why the two of them were standing in this side street alley between two short, squat buildings that were either abandoned or whose workers had gone home for the night. All was quiet here besides the gentle hum of the street lights above them and the errant squeak of the rodents who crawled through the refuse piled into dumpsters along the side of the walkway.
"Before I teach you anything I need to know what you can do. We'll start with the basics and move on from there..." He began as he lifted a piece of metal junk; a part of some droid that had met an unfortunate fate, from a pile of garbage sitting in a rolling waste bin near them.
As Shakka watched, the junk began to slowly levitate above Jirano's hand as he extended it in front of him. It spun slowly in the air like it was suspended there on invisible strings.
"As I said earlier...The Force belongs to no one being. It is a field of cosmic energy generated by all living things that binds everything in existence together into one complete whole. Me, you, every person on this moon, every rodent in that dumpster, every rock under your feet. All things together in harmony. The Force seeks balance. The Force is balance."
With a sudden movement, Jirano turned his wrist, pointing the hand over which the junk had been floating towards Shakka. Seemingly at his command, the piece of metal cartwheeled through the air towards her at speed, but not quickly enough to hurt her even if she failed to catch it.
The caution was unneeded, Jirano found...as just as quickly as Jirano had moved, Shakka almost preternaturally followed with a similar movement, her hand outstretched. The piece of droid junk slowed in mid air and came to a gently floating stop a mere foot from her arm. Now she was in control of its movements. Jirano lowered his hand and nodded.
"See? You already know the Force's call even if you didn't know its name. It warns you of danger and guides your instincts to react even before any of your other senses have had time to tell you that something is wrong. The Force works through you and you work through it."
Jirano continued to stand in the middle of the alley, mere yards from Shakka. Curiously, she watched as he closed his eyes and turned his head almost imperceptibly...was he trying to hear something?
"You will find it easiest to hear and feel the Force around you and flowing through you when your mind is calm. Placid. Like the still waters of a pond. Empty your mind and yourself until there is nothing...and then..."
Jirano exploded in a whirlwind of movement. Before Shakka's eyes his legs carried him bounding to one side of the alley, a frightening momentum carrying him up the side of the building perhaps ten or more meters before he suddenly planted both feet together and launched into a powerful leap that propelled him into a rolling somersault through the air and back across the width of the alley. In the time it took to take a full breath Jirano had performed a graceful feat of acrobatics most circus performers might watch with envy that placed him two stories up a shear wall and squarely onto the roof of the building opposite to where he'd been standing mere moments before. He landed seemingly effortlessly on his feet in a ready stance and drew back up to his full height, approaching the roof's edge to look down again at Shakka.
"The Force will show you how things that cannot be are merely illusions of your own mind."
Part of Jirano hoped the darkness of the alley's shadows concealed the fact that he was grinning like a madman whilst standing on this roof. It was a heady and exhilarating experience letting loose after all these years of hiding. It felt...it was like taking a drink of water after trekking through the heat of a desert...like the breath of life returning to something that had been dormant or dead; a relief and a revival all in one.
"Try it!" He called down to Shakka. "Reach out with your instincts alone. They know the call of the Force more than your conscious mind does."
|
|
|
Post by Warork on Aug 24, 2022 20:50:14 GMT
"Ah, an E5 sniper variant conversion kit..." The weapons monger who refused to be named nodded to Roger's request. "That'll set you back about 300 credits." To his credit he seemed to be completely unphased by Roger's comments about Ego's pyrotechnic tendencies.
"Why do you two always ask what stuff costs when we walk into stores like we actually have credits?" Zira asked with a snort from where she was leaning against the store's counter.
"Data collection in regards to the prices for desired assets is the first logical step in acquiring said assets." Roger pointed out as mechanically as ever. "Regardless of the availability of commercial tender to meet such prices."
"Hard to argue with that!" The vendor said cheerily, giving Zira his best salesman's smile. The heavily lidded stare he got in return was not reassuring, however.
"Please don't encourage them." She said flatly.
"Well is there anything else I can help you with?" He asked without skipping a beat.
"Not for me." Zira said tersely as she put her hands in her jacket pockets and began heading for the door. "I've got a hyperdrive that needs fixed but I don't think you keep spare ones in this shop. Thanks for the info about the merchandise, we'll get out of your hair and come back if we decide to take up your offer of a sale arrangement."
"Ah, well until then..." The salesman said, slipping back towards the door behind the counter. "You three have a lovely evening."
"Sure." Zira answered, trying and failing to conceal the annoyance in her voice.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sitting on a bench near a food vendor, cup of procured noodles and broth in hand with an Ewok seated next to her and an old battle droid standing silently besides was not how Zira had planned to spend this evening...or any evening that she could recall in all honesty. The novelty of the situation was not lost on her but she had little time to ruminate on that as she sat silently staring out into the urban night of Nar Shadaa, a scowl etched into her features. She brought the cup up to her lips and sipped. It honestly wasn't all that bad for a vendor that had been run by a droid. In Zira's experience they never made the most imaginative cooks but whoever had programmed that one had cooking down to a science at least.
Honestly? Kark this moon though. Kark all the swindlers who called this moon home. Kark the Hutts who ruled over the swindlers. Kark their ship and their busted-ass hyperdrive. Kark Zimbar, kark Karl, kark this Ewok and the antique battle droid. Kark this entire universe and herself for flying them to this shitty place. Kark—
"Are you still upset, Madame Zira?" Ego asked softly from his spot next to her on the bench, snapping her from her frustration fueled stupor. In his own hand he held his own cup of noodles which he was nibbling at infrequently. Zira couldn't tell whether he was grateful for the food or not but it was the only food they'd found all day so it had to do.
"Huh? Oh, me? Not...exactly. I'm just trying to think of how best to proceed. Why do you ask?"
"You were tapping your finger rapidly on your cup." Ego said helpfully. "I notice humans sometimes do that when they are upset or nervous."
"I'm just a bit pissed." She admitted crudely, taking a swig from her cup of noodles. "We need credits and we have cargo to sell but every two bit merchant in this city wants a cut before they'll lift a finger. I mean did you hear that guy in there? Fifteen percent?! Karking hyperspace lane robbery is what it is!"
There was a few moments of silence between the three...then Ego spoke up again, his stubby fingers stroking his chin fuzz.
"Is there any way to...make these credits?"
Zira's brow furrowed. "There's plenty of those. That Twi'lek you saw back there was doing one thing to make them, surely."
"No, no..." Ego shook his head. "I do not mean to have them exchanged for services. I mean to actually physically make them."
"That's called counterfeiting and its highly frowned upon." Zira said with a chuckle. "Plus it would require very special equipment to make them look and feel like the real thing."
"Ah...I see." Ego said slowly, nodding as if the wider world of galactic commerce was being revealed to him. "Well it was worth asking."
"Observation: this world must have tens of millions if not more organics living on it." Roger suddenly interjected. "Such a volume of sentient organisms statistically requires currency to be exchanged practically every second at millions of points upon its surface...Our group could simply seek out and forcibly requisition one of these exchanges if need be."
"You're suggesting...we rob someone?" Zira asked, her furrowed brow managing to furrow more deeply even as she spoke.
"Extrapolation: we are better armed than 69% of the organics I have recorded so far on this world. My logic banks calculate that our chances of success could be as high as--"
"Don't tell me the odds." Zira snapped, cutting the droid off. "No offense, Roger, but you're a battle droid, your logic matrices aren't complex enough to be suggesting the best way to get paid on a world run by criminals."
There was another pause as Roger's head piece rotated slightly in place as if the droid was looking about himself.
"This unit is open to further suggestions on appropriate courses of action."
Zira stood up and began pacing slowly back and forth in front of the bench. "I've found that sometimes you can't just wait around for a good idea to come to you." She said thoughtfully. She scanned the street back and forth as she walked. The three of them were sitting in the middle of a few different thoroughfares and the conjunction of several side streets. Despite the commotion and violence of earlier, Zira saw many people of all shapes and sizes making their way through smoggy night. The now damp paved streets glowed with the soft phosphorescent aura of neon lights and other bright signage etched with a thousand languages.
"Sometimes you have to go out and find one..." She continued. Her eye was suddenly drawn to the metallic sheen of something parked in front of a a street corner Cantina just a block or two down from where her little group was sitting. There she could roughly make out what looked to be another small group of people crowded around something mechanical in nature.
Zira pulled her jacket around her shoulders, adjusting the strap of the satchel that wrapped around one of them. She smiled maybe for the first time that night.
"And sometimes if you're vigilant a good opportunity will present itself." She turned to her two companions, "follow me and play it cool, I might be able to get us something."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Don't karking short out my thrust capacitors, Bleyx!" The scrappy Quarren teen complained down to his Trandoshan compatriot. The two of them were standing next to a quartet of colorfully painted hovering swoop bikes. The Trandoshan was knelt next to one of the bikes hurriedly trying to use a tool to adjust something inside the bike's repulsorlift engine which sat underneath its seat. "I just bought new ones!"
"Perhapssss you'd like to be down here twisting a spanning rod in the dark?" The Trandoshan hissed up at the Quarren. "I didn't think so. Give me ssssome damned quiet, I'm trying to concentrate here!"
A grumbling, gargling low roar came from a few yards off to their right as the third figure in the group, an Aqualish, seemingly joined in on the chorus of complaints in his own tongue
"Pimo's got a point, Sek," piped up the last member of the group, a red eyed Duros who sat slouched on his own swoop bike bemoaned. "This woulda never happened if we just left when the block got hot."
"I'm well aware of that, Jad!" The Quarren shot back, gesticulating angrily with his hands.
"Not aware enough to know to leave the street a gang fight is happening on before a stray blaster round almost blew my ass to Tatooine!"
The Aqualish growled and grumbled again, making his own series of hand movements to accentuate his apparently scathing remarks.
"Don't bring my brother into this." Sek said, pointing a finger into Pimo's chest "He's the one who got us spots in this race in the first place."
With a snarl the Trandosh tossed the tool in his hand to the ground and stood up to his full height.
"I can't work like thisssss!" He almost shouted in frustration. "All four of our bikessss are karked to hell and there'sssss no way I can fix them all in time before the race startssss." He looked to the Quarren after a moment, a dejected defeat in his reptilian eyes. "Letssss just go home, Ssssek. Thissss isss hopelessss."
"You fellas in need of some help?" a cheery, feminine voice called out in the night from close enough that it made all four teens spin in place to face the source.
Jad raised a suspicious brow at the trio of newcomers standing mere yards from where they had parked their bikes. They were quite the...motley band. A human female joined by an ancient battle droid and...he wasn't even sure what the small furry one was. But he was definitely sure that thing was packing a flamethrower which was a bit more alarming.
"Who wants to know?" The Duros asked, folding his arms.
"Apparently you want everyone to know." Zira shot back just as fast, her thumbs stuffed into her belt as she stood there on the street, an aloof silhouette in the half light. "I could hear you guys arguing for three blocks. Sounds like you've got some engine trouble."
Zira panned her gaze at all four of the adolescents. They were dressed and adorned in the manner of street punks she had seen on many worlds; all leather and hints of precious metals from piercings mixed with dark inked tattoos in strange places. She knew exactly what these guys were up to with those fancy custom job swoop bikes of theirs on the streets this late at night.
"So what if we do?" The Quarren teen spat. "What's it to you?"
"Well me and my companions here couldn't help but overhearing your conundrum." Zira said with a smirk. "And I just so happen to be pretty good with a plasma wrench."
The Aqualish once again gurgled and grumbled, this time gesturing at Zira.
"Well letssss hear her out at leassssst." Bleyx cautioned.
"It doesn't matter if she can help or not." The Quarren teen interjected. "Nobody can fix four swoop bikes in two hours."
"Is that a bet you're willing to take?" Zira asked. "Whatever race you guys were headed to sounds pretty important."
"Say you could fix all our bikes in that time." Jad asked, breaking his silence. "How many creds for the lot?"
"Two fifty for each." Zira declared.
The disgruntled burbling from the Aqualish teen reached new heights as he protested this quote in price.
"Hey, if you think its too much you're welcome to push these bikes to a shop and pay double that for repairs that will take all night."
The surly silence that followed and the sudden huddle that the four teens congregated into told Zira all she needed to know. She watched the four talk amongst themselves about her offer and nodded appreciatively.
"I think that was a most masterful offer you gave them." Ego piped up from her side, looking up at Zira. "Much better spoken than your dreadful toast in Gordulla's penthouse at any rate."
Zira suppressed a chuckle. "What can I say? Opportunity is where chance and desperation meet on the crossroads of life."
"A wise saying." Ego nodded. "Is it said often in your tribe?"
"Nope. I just made that one up off the top of my head."
The Quarren named Sek turned from the huddle to face Zira's group after a few moments discussion. Zira wasn't well versed on Quarren emotional expression but it seemed to her that this one was thoroughly annoyed.
"Alright." He called out, relenting. "Two fifty for each. But if you break anything you're in a world of shit. These things cost more than you probably make in a year."
"Trust me, friend." Zira said, already taking off her jacket and handing it to Roger before unhitching her satchel and digging through it for the appropriate tools. She let the implied threat of the Quarren punk slide right by her, exuding an aura of pure confidence. "This is the best decision you've made all night."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Blaring, staccato music continued to pour out of the doors of the cantina as the night wore on. Zira was no musical aficionado but she had to admit the stylings of the local nightlife definitely had a way with rhythm and vibe that she found pleasing. The slow alternating thrum of the music's bass-line filtered through the air and she found herself bobbing her head ever so slightly to its beat as she looked into the metallic entrails of the wounded machine before her. A pair of dark shaded goggles over her eyes, she slowly worked the blindingly bright tip of the miniature laser arc welder in her hand over the component of the bike's engine she was working on.
"So...are you a trades person in your tribe then, Madame Zira? You fix machines?" Ego asked from nearby, using a hand to shade his eyes from the light of the welder's tip and the sparks it was giving off as Zira worked.
"Yeah...I guess you could say that." Zira mused as she inspected her work. The bike had suffered laser burns to a vital section of its working parts and Zira was having to essentially rejoin two moving components that had been neatly severed by the blast. She set her welder aside for a moment and picked up a canteen of water next to her, taking a swig thoughtfully. "Ever since I was a kid I just had a knack for it I guess." She smiled at the Ewok. "If it crawls, drives or floats I can fix it and if it soars through space I can fly it."
"I see!" Ego said enthusiastically. "That explains at least why you were able to pilot our ship away from those Imperials."
"All in a day's work, really." Zira boasted. "Hand me that digi-coupler."
Ego attentively looked down into the satchel that Zira had handed him earlier and fished out the long, thin tool that Zira indicated by pointing to it, handing it to her in turn.
"Can you repair or modify droids, then?" He asked.
"Sure can. Astromechs, battle droids, protocol droids, you name it." Zira replied as she inserted the tool into the engine's cavity. "Why do you ask?"
"I was hoping to inquire how many credits you would need to modify such a droid so that it can no longer speak."
There was a long pause as Zira hesitated, Ego's statement and its implications fully settling into her mind.
"Ego, I appreciate you don't really like Roger that much but I am not involving myself into your feud with a droid."
Ego crossed his arms and sat next to Zira. He didn't look pleased but he seemed to accept this. "Very well, if you insist, Madame Zira."
"Are you almost done?" The Duros named Jad called out from a few meters away, approaching Zira with a tall thin can of something probably alcoholic in his grasp. "We need to leave soon if we're going to make it to the race."
"Almost!" Zira called back. She grabbed her satchel from Ego's lap and began rummaging through it. "Hey, did I ever tell you that I can use the Force to fix these bikes?"
"The...what?" Sek suddenly perked up from where he was examining the work that Zira had done on his own bike just minutes before. "That old myth about the magic powers of the Jaydey or whatever they're called?"
"The Jedi." Zira corrected. "And yes, THAT Force."
Sek and Bleyx traded a disbelieving look, wondering in that moment just who they had entrusted the repair of their beloved swoop bikes to.
"You're telling me you're a Jedi?" Sek repeated, in complete doubt. Next to him the Aqualish grumbled quietly.
"I didn't say that. I said I was going to use the Force to fix your bike." Zira said pulling something out of her satchel. The teens looked on to see that in the strange light of the overhead street lamps she held in her fist...a simple roll of duct tape.
"That's...that's tape." Jad pointed out helpfully.
"That's where you're wrong." Zira said, pulling a long strip out of the tape roll. "Its the Force. It has a light side, a dark side, and it helps hold the universe together."
Jad barked out a laugh. Sek sighed more deeply than he had ever done in his life. Pimo threw up his hands and began walking away from the group and Bleyx suppressed a chuckle for his part. All around, Zira considered the joke a rousing success.
"I'm afraid I don't understand that joke." Ego said from where he was seated.
"Don't worry. I'll explain it to you later." Zira reassured him. A shadow fell across her as she wrapped the tape around a section of the inner workings of the bike. She looked up to see Jad standing over her.
"You mind? You're kinda in my light. I can't see anything."
"Is that a DL-54?" He asked, pointing to the blaster on Zira's hip.
"It might be." She said, tapping it. "You a fan of BlasTech?"
"Not really. My cousin just scored a blaster that looks just like that though. You go to the same dealer? You know him at all?"
"That weedy faced smooth talker with the balding head in the hardware store a few blocks down?" Zira asked, hiking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the direction she came from. "That's the only dealer I've heard of since I landed here."
Jad shook his head. "Nah, my cousin got his from some guy named Konty. Doesn't do business directly or around here as a matter of fact. He had to go through someone he knew a few streets over who set everything up."
"Did he now?" Zira asked, going quiet for a moment as she contemplated this. "Your cousin has good taste at least. Its a great little blaster, heavy but packs a wallop."
"He let me fire it a couple times." Jad said with a grin. "Makes a racket but sure does make womp rats run for cover."
"Sure does." Zira nodded. She had to suppress laughing at the kid's manner. It was obvious to her that he was just trying to impress her for some reason. "Say, hypothetically speaking if I wanted to set up a meeting with your cousin's dealer, could you tell me where I could find them?"
Before Jad could reply, Bleyx suddenly appeared at his side and interjected, his reptilian yellow eyes fixing Zira with shrewd look. "Hypothetically ssssspeaking we might be willing to trade such information."
Zira stared right back at the scaly teen. "Well, if I hypothetically knocked two hundred credits off your final damage tonight would that be worth your while...hypothetically?"
Bleyx and Jad traded a look where Bleyx simply nodded and Jad spat into his hand which he then extended for Zira to shake.
"Hypothetically you'd have yourself a deal." Jad said.
Zira looked at the hand for but a moment before half snorting, half gargling a gnarly mucus laced wad of spit into her own hand before taking the Duros' hand and shaking it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zira watched as the four teens rode their roaring, spluttering swoop bikes off into the night and felt an immense swell of pride as they did so. She'd managed those repairs with time to spare. There were few mechanics she knew who could do the same job under the same conditions in the same amount of time.
"Hey Ego, hand me that bottle of hand sanitizer." she said, sending the Ewok into another search through her satchel. He procured the bottle of clear liquid and handed it to her, watching her apply a liberal amount to her palms and wring her hands through the solution. The traditions of the tribes on this moon were so strange to him.
"Inquiry..." Roger said, breaking his long silence as Zira reached for the jacket he still held in his metallic digits. "That group did pay you for your services did they not?"
Zira held up a small pouch and shook it, the jingle of metallic tabs inside, audible for both to hear. "Eight hundred credits all told, gentlemen." Zira said triumphantly. "Not bad for a night's work."
"And that blue skinned fellow..." Ego started. "He also told us where we could find another dealer for the guns as well."
"Yeah, we're looking for a backstreet doc. Some woman named Vic a few blocks from here apparently." Zira said. "But first..."
The droid and Ewok watched as Zira opened the bag of credits and poured them into her open hand. She took a few of the metallic tabs and stuffed them into one of her belt pockets. To their surprise, Zira also took most of the pile of credits and split them into two smaller lumps which she then handed to both Ego and Roger.
"There ya go!" She said cheerily. "Fair wages for fair work."
Ego looked down to the credits in his hands, confused. "But...but we didn't do any of that work, Madame Zira. That was all your expertise!"
"Well, you're not wrong, Ego." Zira said, shrugging. "But you did help in your own ways. And also there should be enough there for each of you to get those weapon upgrades you were looking at back in that ass face's shop. I'm gonna need both of you to be on your A-game in case this meeting with this weapon dealer goes lujka shaped. Get me?"
"I agree. This is a most logical course of action." Roger droned. "The files I have available to me about illegal weapons trades show that they are usually more risky to organics than normal means of currency exchanges."
"Now that is a logical deduction I can trust." Zira said, giving Roger a raised thumb of approval. "You two go get those upgrades and then meet me back here. We need to try to meet this lady before the night gets too much later."
|
|
|
Post by Draxy on Aug 30, 2022 21:37:00 GMT
'Oh! That jerk!'
Shakka sits pouting from where she'd just been unceremoniously dropped onto the seat, looking much like a girl who'd just been dumped by her boyfriend. She was sure he must know exactly what it is that he was doing, his words just before practically confirmed it. It was an entirely new experience for her, her past partners had been altogether smitten with her and she often left tongue tied whoever she tried to flirt with. Finding Jirano was immune to such was certainly new, and she couldn't help but feel annoyed at the rather frank telling off he gave her.
Already she could feel the sharks circling, Shakka herself having already moved from 'taken' to 'freshly available' in their minds. Only Jirano's beckoning finger saved her, Shakka standing with a rather cute giggle as she hurried after him, refusing to believe their 'game' was quite yet done. Her heels clacking on the ground she broke out into a light jog to keep up, feeling her lekku smack against her back and upper shoulders.
She'd get him back, she just had to find someway to get a reaction from him.
-----------------------------------------------
And it's just really that easy, huh?
Having fallen down flat on her ass after the first few attempts, Shakka was beginning to doubt that. Already she could hear and feel Jirano's amusement, and wondered if perhaps he had set her up to fail.
The skills she had learned from the 'Force' (uhhhh, she really didn't like that name) was all stuff she could use in her day to day life. Empathy, precognition, telekinesis, Shakka had found them all to be rather useful to avoid when someone may decide to get a little handsy. Shifting her hips at the last moment, or flicking a drink into someone's lap both were useful tricks to avoid such, whilst still staying inside of one of her usual flirty dancer persona's.
She was an assassin yes, but she didn't exactly climb building or dash across rooftops. She preferred her kills to be up close and personal.
Except she had done something like this before hadn't she? Shakka was an assassin, but before that she was a dancer, one of the best. Pole dancing took a lot of upper body strength, far more than one would perhaps expect and Shakka, well she'd long ago learnt how to cheat. To just open herself up to the world, ignore the many hungry eyes that drank in her figure and just do as her power guided her, pretending she was doing this for herself and not some others entertainment.
This time, Shakka closed her eyes as she took several deep breaths, cutting out Jirano's amusement from behind her. She could do this.
Eyes still closed she took the wall at a run, taking several steps up it before she kicked off into a flip, her hands grabbing an outcropping pole as she swung around it before her heels then made contact with the pipe, sending her into another spiralling leap towards the roofs surface.
She had made it.Shakka opened her eyes, smiling up at the older man with a slight smirk at her achievement.
"Well?" She began. "How was that then, teacher?"
|
|