The Dapper Rogue

[Zay]

Outer Rim Territories________________________________________________Ord Antalaha
Local Time 1857_________________________________________________The Rusty Cutlass​

______________​

The sound of dress shoes on cobblestone filled the empty back alleyway as Damon made his way through the slums district of Fort Divin. Dressed in chinos a button down fitted shirt, sunglasses and his ever present charm necklace, Damon would have been a peculiar sight. His time working with Kartan and the crew of The Waste had been very profitable and like most young men with more coin in his pocket than he should have Damon spent it liberally. However, it wasn't his designer shoes or sunglasses that would have made his visage out of the ordinary, it was the speed in which he traversed the back alley that would have raised a brow or two to his person. Sweat covered his brow and a dark triangular shape had formed on his lower back. His body ached, but there was an air of urgency to his movements that mirrored a frightened animal.

BLAM!

The sound of blaster fire reverberated off the close walls and the wiz smack of the bolt slamming into and charring the wall just beside his head brought the dapper young man to a skittering hault. A curse escaped his lips. Damon had hoped his jaunt through the alleys would have thrown his pursuers off his trail... he'd been wrong. Still facing away from the gunman, he slowly and deliberately raised his hands in a sign of surrender. As his hands reached the zenith of his reach a gravely chortle emanated from the gunman. The chuckle was a wet phlegmy sound that made Damon's nose wrinkle in disgust. The young human was having trouble biting back the plethora of quips and retorts that came streaming into his mind. He wanted to berate this phlegm filled moron with each passing moment, but when a gun is pointed at your back close enough for a blind man to hit it's mark one would be surprised at the level of discipline they can muster.

"You're a slippery little monkeylizard aren't you?" the question was clearly rhetorical, but Damon responded, "I'd ask you kindly, not to bring up my perspiration problem. It's a sensitive subject for me. It's not like I'm mentioning the fact that you've literally never clear the phlegm from your throat." The remark felt good to voice, the blow to the back of his knee that followed did not. The gunman wasn't in the mood to deal with Kross' mouth. "Shut it." he barked. The high pitched whir from the blaster told Damon his attacker had switched his blaster from stun to kill. "Where's the map?" the words dripping with venom. Damon's heart beat in his chest and adrenaline poured into his bloodstream. In his current position he was kneeling. The leg that had been collapsed by the kick was knee down on the ground, but the other was positioned before him. The argyle sock he wore matched the colors of his shirt and the small leather holster held a hold out blaster that the gunman had ignored or not noticed. There was hope. Damon just had to get the gun without being killed. No pressure right?

While he'd not been able to see the being holding him hostage, Damon knew who it was. It was Vreck. A meaty twi'lek with a glassy eye. The pallor of the tail heads skin was the color of snot and his teeth matched. Overall he was a stark contrast to Damon, but where his hygiene was lacking, his aggression made up for it. The barrel of the heavy blaster pressed into Damon's back. "Where's the map!" The gunman's words were starting to become more insistent. He was losing his patience, if Damon was going to do something it would have to be now. Suddenly, a loud crash resounded behind the pair, not waiting for his attacker to pull the trigger Damon pulled the small blaster from his holster and pulled the trigger. A mixture of confusion and surprise slammed into the grimy twi'lek's body as he convulsed slightly and fell backward.

Damon looked toward the trash cans that had turned over and noted the cat that delightfully snacked upon the spilled contents. The human owed that cat more than he owed most fully sentient beings in the galaxy. Looking down at the small blaster in his hand he frowned. It was set on stun. Looking down at Vreck he pointed and pulled the trigger once more for good measure. "Don't wake up too soon. I'm tired of running." He picked up the being's blaster and placed it into another trash can after removing the battery cell. "Always cover your ass." one of Kartan's famed lessons. Lifting his shirt he pulled a map that had been concealed under his button down. A sly grin graced his face as he opened and checked for any damages, the map was good. Returning it to it's hiding place he made his way home.

By the time he made it back to his modest apartment he showered changed and left. His stomach was complaining about a lack of sustenance, so, he made his way to The Rusty Cutlass the crew of The Waste held this establishment in high regard and frequented the bar often. Kartan and the owner were old friends and since Damon was a charge of Kartan's he spent countless hours in the bar. As he entered the bar damon spotted several members of his crew and nodded, trading insults and quips with the men and women as he passed. As he made it to the bar he surveyed the room. Many of his fellow crewmates were here and Damon could easily sidle up and join in on any conversation being had, but tonight he wanted to be alone. He needed time to process what all had transpired in the past few hours and what it would mean in the near future. The only thing Damon was certain of was the map he'd hidden beneath his shirt was a treasure map.

@Galavant

 

[Galavant]

What was it about criminal enterprises that required bars? Every single planet Andrena had ever been to in her career as a shipper of duty-free goods seemed to have a seedy place with a bar that served alcoholic beverages as the nexus of illegal activity. If it were just planets, she would chalked it up to people on planets being crazy, but it wasn't. On the bigger space stations the pattern was also the same. Was there some sort of galactic law that said they could only meet in variations on a bar, cantina, and tavern? Why couldn't business ever be done in a fast food joint, or a laundromat or something?

Not that she was complaining too much. People in these places were usually inebriated enough that it wasn't hard to part them with their money. A game of cards, or a quick rifle through their pockets while they were barely conscious usually netted a good amount of credits that she didn't have to spend any she'd gotten from her latest haul.

Ord Antalalalala or whatever it was called wasn't a terrible place for business. It was no Nar Shaddaa, but there was always something that needed moving by people who had obtained goods via methods not dissimilar from her own pick pocketing. She was at the Rusty Cutlass waiting for someone who wanted something moved quick to show up. She wished people would show up on time for these things if they were going to go through all the trouble of making the arrangement in the first place. She didn't like being on the ground any longer than she had to be.

Planets were awfully silly places.

Then again, from the intermittent blasterfire in the background, the person she was here to meet might not show up at all. She'd give whoever it was another hour, then she was gone.

In the mean time...

Someone looking sharper than Corellian cheese stepped into the place. She herself wasn't dressed nearly so fancy. Scuffed boots, one of her less good blue jackets, a black shirt that had been washed so many times it was starting to approach a very dark gray, and pants of similar coloration. She had a stun pistol and a vibroblade on her. She wasn't dumb enough to be in a place like this unarmed. Her jacket in particular had nice big pockets on the inside, which were currently filled with her own ill-gotten gains.

Odds seemed good that he had some money on him, more than people who had already spent it on drinks, and it wasn't like Andrena had anything better to do. Of course, the problem for her was how to part a sober person of their money when they were off sitting by themselves, and didn't seem inclined to a card game. The usual way someone would do this was with conversation. Unfortunately, Andrena was as good at conversation as she was at breathing underwater.

But there were other ways to distract someone. Coming up to sit along side the man, Andrena pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer and started cleaning her hands. Pirates and their associate were hardly the cleanest people after all. Following that she produced a small rag with which to clean the counter in front of her. Andrena knew that she might not be the best at talking to people, but she also knew that (some) of her eccentricities could be plenty distracting in settings such as this.

@ZayPat

 

[Zay]

Damon took a seat in a back booth away from his cohorts and was just about to pour himself over the map he'd acquired. The map gnawed at his curiosity. The young Pirate was quickly becoming obsessed with the promise of boundless treasure. He plucked his sunglasses that were tucked into his shirt's breast pocket and placed them on the table. His fingers drummed out a rhythm of mild annoyance as he recalled the events of the day. Everything had started out normal.

Damon started his day running a few errands for Kartan and during that time he was introduced to Vreck. After a jovial round of shots and the completion of their not so legal business, The glassy eyed Twi'lek had asked Damon to a game of Pazaak. Being an avid gambler the young man had accepted. After a few hours, Damon was set to walk out with the majority of Vreck's money. Outraged at his own incompetence, the twi'lek had demanded one more hand. All in, and his only collateral had been the map.

In the end Damon had won. Fair and square, but the sting of loss rarely recalls fair play upon settling. Seeing the loss hit Vreck like a ton of bricks, Damon decided it was a good idea to get out of there. He quickly grabbed his earnings and scurried toward the door. As he reached it however Vreck's voice bellowed from behind him, "CHEAT!!!!!" Damon stopped in his tracks. An accusation like that could put a serious damper on his reputation as a pirate and a gambler. Calmly he stowed the credits and tucked the map into his shirt and then turned around, a seemingly amicable smile on his lips, but the smile didn't go any further than his lips. Damon's sea green eyes burned with outrage at the twi'lek. His only response to the claim was "Come again?"

The next set of events happened so quickly that his recollection was spotty at best. He and Vreck had traded blows and then Damon had left. That was supposed to be the end. According to the code, if an accusation was made, then the accuser was allowed an attempt to reclaim their stolen property via combat. Damon had complied with the code and returned victorious. This meant that regardless of past transgressions the winning were his. Vreck had apparently forgotten this because shortly after Damon left the building the sounds of blaster fire erupted from behind him. The rest is history of course, but Damon couldn't understand why the twi'lek had been so adamant about reclaiming the map. His stroll down memory lane was cut short when a stranger joined him in his booth.

The young woman was lithe with a natural beauty that belied her choice of attire. Her clothing was faded and her boots were scuffed. Damon watched the newcomer for a moment as she vigorously sanitized the area and herself as if existing in this bar was a strike against her health. "Love, you're gonna need a lot more sanitizer if you hope to escape the grime of this establishment." he said.

The young woman had intelligent eyes and seemed out of place in this den of cutthroats. He was tempted to let his guard down, but based on recent events he wouldn't allow himself to be duped by a stranger with a pretty face.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Damon put a little steel in his voice indicating he wasn't looking for company, and hoping she could take a hint.

@Galavant

 

[Galavant]

"Love, you're gonna need a lot more sanitizer if you hope to escape the grime of this establishment."

Andrena ignored him. She was pretty sure she had enough sanitizer to turn the place into a Kamino clean room if she needed to do so. Or failing that she could burn the place down. Sweeping up the ashes would probably be more time and resource efficient. She didn't say that though out of fear that the man might think she was threatening him, when she was really just looking at this from a logical perspective. People always got so touchy when you suggested property destruction as a means of urban renewal.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Her mark said. Someone more socially adept might pick up on the tone of his voice.

But no one had ever accused Andrena of that.

She just blinked and stared at him for a minute. He looked a touch smarter than the average patron of the place, so just trying to rob him on the sly probably wouldn't work out. But that was fine, her contact clearly wasn't showing up, and a quick exit was her preferred style.

"Yes. Stand up," She said, putting her cleaning rag away, and standing up herself. She kept the sanitizer in her hands though, it would come in handy if he decided not to stand up.

@ZayPat

 

[Zay]

"Yes. Stand up,"

An appraising eyebrow cocked at the woman audacity. Was she being serious? Damon didn't move. He stayed planted firm and his gaze remained on the young woman. He could feel eyes from some of his overly nosy comrade witching him and the girl. His mouth worked into a thoughtful frown and he said, "No."

He lifted his hand and waved the barback over. The young man approached with a jovial smile saying, "Hey Dae! you having the usual?" Dae nodded in response adding an order of fries. Looking to the strange woman he said, "Would you like anything?" he was attempting to be nice, maybe she had a screw loose from to many lines of glitterstim. He'd seen the hallucinogen erode minds before and it wasn't a pretty process. The barback would await her response and carry out the necessary action.

Damon took this time to scoot away from the woman. He'd courted enough crazies to know that blatant insubordination of their desires normally led to catching hands. The last thing he needed tonight was this little spice head losing her shab because he didn't want to stand up.His body tense with anticipation the pirate watched her wearily awaiting the on coming storm.

"Please, don't be crazy..." he thought as he awaited his drink and fries.

@Galavant