Definite Cause for Alarm

[Cisco]

The lights were dim, the air full of smoke, and the everlasting scent of musky sweat and spilt drinks permeating the air. There weren't quite so many bars like this left around, wood panel flooring, old incadescent light bulbs, simple furniture, alcohol with pronounceable names. Far from that sleek looking, LED lit, and stripperific, nightclub bullshit that a lot of places seemed to so often find themselves leaning towards. No, this was a classy place, a pub, a saloon even, a place a man could go to relax with a stiff drink and a smoke; with the exception of your occasional fan favourite, the raging drunkard whose appearance seemed a rather of when than where.

For the most part though, this bar was perhaps the moreso unpopular one. Though it contained a number of people, five or ten who found themselves sitting among the booths on the wall watching whatever boxing or other sport was being displayed upon the singular large display on the wall, it was for the most part a smaller and emptier space occupied by a singular bar alongside a few waitresses and a single barkeeper. A small kitchen was in the back but nobody really cared about those guys to begin with. It wasn't like the underpaid fry cook ever did anything fun to begin with.

Of course, in every story there was a protagonist, perhaps even two or more.

Seated at the bar sat a simplistically dressed fellow. A pair of white and black sports shoes, blue denym pants, a simple cotton grey turtleneck shirt, for the most part though he was covered by a large (Perhaps oversized even) brown leather trench coat that left a pair of tail ends to dangle down behind him. The man himself was perhaps a bit more remarkable in appearance. He was an older looking man perhaps in his late eighties or even nineties, a medium length head of almost pure white hair with a few splotches of the Brown it had once been years ago seemed to accentuate that point. The left side of his face was adorned with simple scar than ran through a now blinded eye.

Blowing a simple puff of smoke from between his lips, his eyes idly glancing up to the screen above, then back down to the underside of his wrist where a simple metallic watch sat. 2 A.M, or at least the rough equivalent on this planet. "It's been quite the long night..." He murmured to himself, offering another puff of smoke from between his lips, the barkeeper who stood off to the side, cleaning glasses offering a simple nod in response. He turned his head up. "Think I could get some corellian Whiskey while you're here?" He asked, the barkeeper shifting from cleaning out glasses to grabbing things from below the counter. "Thanks."

 

[Gaja]

The end of his black coat fluttered in the wind while his breath manifested in the form of steam. He tried to pay little attention to it, and the cold that caused it in particular, as he made his way towards the bar in front of him, hands in pockets. After all it wasn't a terribly long walk from his speeder to the establishment. And as his breath manifested itself as steam, once again, and vanished the next instant so too did the feeling of cold get replaced by heat and cigarra smoke as the doors behind him closed. So here he was, leaving the cold air of Sleheyron behind him, just another man like everybody else. At least that's how he tried to present himself and have it be for the time being...

With everything that's been going on it was safe to say that he'd made a lot of enemies recently, so a moment without all that crap would be nice. Taking the most direct route available, he walked straight to the bartender and took a seat as the screen to his right showed a boxing event recap, some Twi'lek gentleman got knocked out apparently but Yuri didn't get to look at it much as the barkeep approached him. Good service, he thought. "Evenin'. I'll have some Corellian whiskey if you have any. On the rocks." It was an expensive drink these days, Corellian liquor, but with Sleheyron being so wealthy Yuri figured that he might get some here.

He liked this place too, reminded him of his favorite bar back on Nar Shaddaa, very chill and with a vibe of its own. The smell of cigara smoke was always present, the TV was on but not loud enough to where it would disturb conversations and the bar behind the barkeep was filled with all sorts of drinks that would turn even the most seasoned drinkers in to little kids that visited the candy store. Yuri like all men liked to think that he could hold his liquor but the truth of the matter was that he only had a bit every now and then, so while that was sort of true he certainly didn't drink often enough to give the 'pros' a run for their money. After all he until recently actively competed as a professional fighter, so stuff like that was of-limits for him unless he wanted to get brutally knocked out. Well to tell the truth, he didn't seek to get hammered. He simply wished to escape the life of inter-galactic crime boss for a bit, as well as the most recent of developments...

Taking a look around the place after he got used to the conditions in here it was obvious by his body language that he relaxed. It wasn't that he hoped to see anyone he knew, just trying to satisfy his curiosity he supposed. No one he knew was present indeed, at least no one he remembered knowing. To his right was an elder gentleman and after spending more than a second looking at him Yuri spotted the long scar along the left side of his face. Realizing that he sort of sat next to him Yuri's manners kicked in, something he too had, and in a polite voice greeted the man who also had some whiskey. "Good evening."

Of course he had no idea who the gentleman was, or anything about him. He could guess that the man was old, that much was obvious, but despite his age Smith looked pretty decent in posture and interesting too! Yuri just figured the Ossan, or Jiji as the kids called old people these days, looked pretty badass. One of those old school guys, reminded him of his old coach... and a gunslinger.

 

[Cisco]

With a glass now in front of himself, the bartender once again turned away, going back to what he had been doing yet, again, cleaning spare glasses. Evidently the man was't the most social of folks, but it wasn't like Shaitan really seemed to mind. It was, two in the morning, after all. Giving a final puff of smoke he reached pulling the burning piece of paper from between pursed lips, holding it as he gripped onto the glass of alcohol before him, and took a drink. With a mild burn, the amber substance cascaded down his through, the feeling as though a harmless fire traveled from the top of his throat to the core of his being. Placing it back down, he offered the half emptied glass a cursory glance before popping the smoke back within his mouth.

His attention turning, his eyes began to focus on the boxing match, wasn't exactly live, more like a replay, but that didn't change what he was watching. What he was watching was some Super Lightweight Outfighting Twi'lek bastard getting himself completely wrecked by an infighting Human. He shook his head in a slight huff. Neither of these guys were great, the Twi'lek was doing little more than running and futilely trying to protect himself, while the was taking all kinds of blows that he shouldn't propelled by sheer gusto and willpower. "These days They'll hand out Pro Licenses to just about anybody it seems." He commented, the nearby bartender giving a simple nod among his glasses.

Before he could say much further, the door near the entrance gave a slight click, and as it opened, chimed its own bell. Though many would probably look the way of the person entering, Smith did not. Though, it wasn't so much as he was ignoring the man, rather he chose to listen, take it all in. It was an old habit from a time long since passed, to remain as inconspicuous as one might while keeping an ear out for danger. And as the old saying went; Old Habits die hard. Thus he listened, as the new fellow crossed the floor boards, listened to each and every step taken, the footfalls were solid, and the creaks of flooring veritable, definitely a larger man.

Giving another Puff, Smith continued to look forward a bit, eyes silently pouring over the rack of drinks behind the bartender as Yuri would come to sit down just to his left, and begin ordering his drinks. Even without having to look at him, his voice told him what he needed to know, the man beside him was most definitely fairly fit, though the manner of speaking itself was far from that of your average uneducated thug. Taking up his drink once again, he idly watched as the bartender before the two of them produced yet another glass, some octahedral ice, and a bottle of Corellian whiskey for Yuri.

Beyond this, Smith himself paid no attention. Or at least he wouldn't have, until the man had spoke to him.

Reaching up once more smith pulled the cigarette from his mouth, letting out the smoke from his lungs, before turning his head to the man beside him. "Good evening to you too." He spoke with a slight nod. Before turning his head back forward, and taking yet another drink of his own whiskey. Though he wouldn't let his face betray it, the once ranger knew this man. He knew the place, yet not a why, nor a name to put to his face. With the rangers being a short lived group though, there wasn't too much to remember anyway.

"So, What brings you around here?"

 

[Chairdor]

Re'gi wasn't moving at all yet the speedometer told him he was capping one hundred miles an hour. He could drive a thousand miles and be none the wiser to his speed for all the sensation it gave him, but in the few moments of acceleration he certainly felt it, the pullback of the seat the grip of seat belt. Then of course there was the sudden stop, suddenly all that speed held by your ride, all that control you mustered with every smooth turn and swift change of gears was all for nothing as it all came to you, the pull of the void drawing you into the windshield, the crush of the seat belt with your ribs, the crash of your skull into the dash. That's how his dad died. For just one moment after a race his father realized just how fast he was going and that killed him. So for the most part Re'gi ignored what the speedometer told him, because you only truly know your speed at the end of the race and from there it doesn't matter.

After a long while Re'gi slowed noting he had arrived at the designated location. Turning discreetly down an alley he put the ride in park and checked his watch, an old pocket affair but it still worked, seeing he was on time he promptly left the vehicle and began to walk away. He didn't look back he didn't think about his means of payment, those affairs were settled long before he got into the car. He did his part and now it was someone else's meal to earn. As he walked he wondered what the fate of the ride was. Most likely it was going to be chopped for parts and that made Re'gi wonder if the car was going to die. An odd sentiment but his father had shown a great deal of love for his swoops, his mom said he loved them almost as much as he loved her, but Re'gi knew that wasn't the truth. Dad loved the swoops more.

As he moved deeper into the town he took off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, it was warm after all. Then he pulled out a cap from his pocket and put it over his head and his disguise was complete. Often people would go over the top putting on facial hair or wearing sunglasses, but the best mask is the one you put on everyday. At least that's how Re'gi saw it. As he walked he noted the crowds weren't too big tonight so blending in would be a bit tougher so he opted to enter an establishment with a flickering sign which seemed to mirror the patrons within. There was a spark there once for many, but it seemed to be dying. All but two that was. As Re'gi looked down the bar for a suitably but not noticeably isolated spot he saw the older man and another sitting next to him. Re'gi tensed for a moment his body understanding a second before his mind as a small smile crept onto his face.

Moving down the bar he sat next to the two who were starting to have a talk and looked to the waiter and said,

"Water, something to eat,"

 

[Gaja]

His eyes were tired, at least that's how he would have described it. Yet he smiled and seemed energetic, disregarding the feeling of needing sleep and looked at the screen for a moment. He was glad that the elder man replied back, it produced a nice atmosphere in his opinion. Not that Yuri was the type of man who needed to talk all the time, he wasn't a mute either.

Seeing the bartender pour him a drink and put the glass in front of him Yuri nodded and smiled once more, politely answering. "Thank you." His attention turned towards Smith for a second as he picked up on his question. "Work. And visiting an old friend. God that Twi'lek ate it." At the particular time Yuri commented on it the twi'lek boxer ate a nasty right hook to the body that would make any real fight fan cringe. You could just feel the impact, and the slow motion shot made it even more apparent.

Shortly after that, not even ten seconds, they showed the knock out once more and the picture was then replaced by two of the commentators, or hosts, discussing the events and what the win did for the human that won. Honestly though while the punches were good Yuri wasn't terribly impressed. They were decent, he figured, but nothing that struck him as 'champion material'. "Seeing fights like this makes me want to go back in again.." As he said that the bartender gave Yuri a look, then he looked at Smith curiously.

The bartender knew that Smith was knowledgeable about fighting in general, unlike him, so he wasn't quite sure who Yuri was unless he looked it up on the holonet. Yuri wasn't that known on Sleheyron, despite it being in Hutt space so it wasn't all that surprising that they didn't know him here like they did on Nar Shaddaa. Meanwhile another individual entered the establishment and joined them. Initially Yuri said nothing, until Re'gi made his order, but them he hid the smile no longer. "And there he is. Mr. Alvanti himself. Didn't think you'd be late." It'd been a while since they last saw each other, but it was good to know that he didn't seem to change.