Basic Rocket Science

Ser Yorick

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He had heard of the place before, just never actually been there. It was the kind of place you only ever heard other people talk about, and even then only in hushed voices, like it was some big secret. It was said being invited was a kind of honour, but Jim wasn't so sure that was the case. After all, those who frequented the establishment were known criminals, some even notoriously so. A great opportunity to make some contacts, he thought. And so when Jameson received word via holo that he had been invited by his most recent and happy client, he decided he would go. Plus it wouldn't exactly look good to refuse. The job had paid well, so why not humour a possible repeat customer?

When Jim arrived at the coordinates, he was surprised by the size of it. He had flown all the out to the edges of the Unknown Regions, an area of space that wasn't on any publicly available star map, and when he dropped out of hyperspace, the space station dominated his ship's viewscreen. "Now this is a bar," he murmured in astonishment.

Immediately his ship, Starburn, was hailed by the station. The comms crackled with life. "Code word?" The voice sounded like someone bored with their job.

Jim hastily searched around the control panel, knocking over little plastic figures of various alien and monstrous creatures, until he found it. "Here we go." He then pressed the return button and read from the sheet: "Red Five... er... Green Seven."

"You may dock." This guy definitely loved life.

As he stepped through the airlock Jim was greeted by his former client and his entourage.

"Jameson Edwards! Glad you could make it, my boy!" Both his voice and his round face were jovial. He was fat too, so his whole body shook as he lifted his arms in greeting. Jim had wondered why the happiest and most successful crime bosses were always so rotund. Oh well. At least he was human.

"Darjeeling! Good to see you!" Jim replied, putting on a face. He would appear to enjoy tonight, even if he really didn't.

"Come, come, let us enter the cantina. At least, the one nearest to us!" Darjeeling put him arm around Jim and lead him down the hall.

"There are more than one?"

"Oh yes, several in fact! And many, many meeting rooms. A lot of prominent businessmen conduct their affairs aboard the Simulator."

"I'm curious, sir, how does this place stay hidden if so many people know about it?"

Darjeeling shot him a quick smile. "It moves."

"It moves?" He was confused. "What do you mean, it moves?"

"Just that. It's a moving space station. The coordinates are always unique, and always somewhere off the beaten path. If its location was ever discovered by those who would threaten our way of doing business, we would just go elsewhere."

"Smart." It wasn't unheard of, just rare these days, and it surprised Jameson. He never knew this place was so popular among the underworld.

"Here we are!" Darjeeling threw open the doors and ushered his guest inside.

Jim was taken aback. It was glorious. Easily the most impressive, but still divey, bar he had ever seen. The ceiling was high and vaulted, like some great ballroom, but everywhere there were tables and mini bars and people dancing. It was like there were multiple bars within the cantina. Bar-ception. The music throbbed rhythmically, the same four oppressive beats over and over. Still just a bar, he conceded.

Darjeeling brought them to the centre of the room and everybody took their seats.

"Well, what do you think?"

"Not bad."
 

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Somewhere inside the great ball room, within the close proximity of the Bar-ception sat a red haired ex Jedi. Faith, as most people know her, observed as the 'boss' entered the room with his entourage. Merely seconds upon making eye contact with screwed business man, she stood up to follow towards his general direction.

Seconds later, the red haired was standing among the group of males smack dab in the center of the room. Cigarra in her dominant hand, and the other tugging on her tiny waist, the woman listened as the boss made small talk of sorts:

"Well, what do you think?"

"Not bad."


Naturally, Faith felt compelled to brag. She has after all seen far more grand ball rooms and cantinas.

"Meh."
She uttered while taking a seat.

"I know of a place on Coruscant that would make this place look like a child's play area.
Too bad the Imperium destroyed Coruscant; I was rather fond of said cantina."

It's been over a decade since Coruscant's utter destruction. Like a proper Jedi, Faith felt compelled to side with the Alliance- which she did. Though only for a time.

Realizing she probably should have kept the latter to herself, she added
"But we're not here to discuss Alliance or Imperium business, are we?"
 

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A moving space station, what a quaint notion.

Though, one might suppose, it was hardly anything too spectacular. After all, it was only a thousand years ago - to think, they lived in a civilisation where one could say such a thing - that the Galactic Empire had built itself a space station comparable to the size of a moon, and then sent it about with the intent of destroying planets. Surely if one could move something as big as that, anything smaller had to be well within the realm of possibility.
Of course, the reason for the presence of a cloaked figure, in the corner of some cantina on some space station called... the Simulator, if that figured recalled correctly, was not for measuring it against historical examples. What was needed of this place, was someone who could perform a service. A service not unlike bounty hunting, really.

All truths told, Azur wished he could hire a bounty hunter. Or otherwise spread the word far and wide that he wanted someone hunted, and that he was willing to pay. But, the wroonian mused as he stared down at his drink, only slightly lowered from a few sips taken earlier, he knew the inconveniences and problematic issues that would arise if he chose that path. For starters, most bounties did well with a name - and he had none to pin to his target. They also, especially if not drawn up by the State, required contacts, so as to get information out there. Contacts that, outside of the Imperium, Azur did not particularly have, and he doubted that the one he sought would be hiding within its borders. Lastly, a bounty hunter would, often enough, want the kill. Kept things easy and simple, and got their award.

And Azur would keep that for himself.

So, he had, following rumours, trails of cautiously specific denials, and confessions, come to here. Some wretched hive at the end of civilisation. Some part of Azur felt disgusted. He was nobility, and Sith. Hanging about these kinds of criminals and their carry-ons suited him in no fashion whatsoever. In fact, he was fairly certain that some part of his honour was eroding away, just by being here. But he also knew that many of those who came here, had skills. They knew their way around the galaxy, even the parts no-one worthwhile had ever heard about. He needed those people, to track down the phantom that menaced his mind, taunting him unseen. It was from them, that he would have his revenge.

He took note of a couple new faces entering in, a couple of humans. One fat, the other far less so, and it wasn't hard to guess which one had the money that was paying the other. Though for what, Azur wouldn't be so quick as to say. Gazing from them, the wroonian, hidden beneath his hood, wondered how exactly he would attract or scope out his potential employee, to use a more acceptable term. Measure who might be the toughest among them by starting a fight? Would certainly get him the strong ones, but strength didn't necessarily mean smart. And given he wanted someone tracked them, smart was important. But then, how did one measure intellect in a glance? Many would hide their true brilliance, others would simply be so alien to him that he couldn't tell a genius from a grapefruit. So then, what?

He took another sip of his drink, waiting in the corner.
 

Ser Yorick

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Darjeeling had just been about to scoff at Jameson's reply when a red-haired lady who had snuck her way into his entourage spoke up, cutting him off.

"Meh."

Jim took notice. Watched her body language. She was somebody, definitely held herself like she was familiar with combat, but that's all he could glean. After all, he wasn't a mind reader.

She continued speaking. Some jib jab about another bar on Coruscant, and how it had been blown up by the empire. That was a subject Jim was familiar with, but tended to stay away from. You never knew who was listening, and what their predisposition was, so he figured it'd be best to steer clear of politics. Besides, governments were governments, and Jim hadn't had a good experience with a one of them. In his opinion, all they ever did was get in a man's way. Though, without them he probably wouldn't have a job... but, whatever. Necessary evil maybe. You see, this is why he doesn't talk about politics!

"But we're not here to discuss Alliance or Imperium business, are we?"

"No, no we're not, dear," came Darjeeling's reply. A great wide smile had swept over his face. You had to hand it to him, his money and power had gifted him a good deal of confidence. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, he continued: "I don't believe we've had the pleasure. I'm Darjeeling. What's your name, sweetheart?" The fat man looked at her greedily. He was an idiot.

Jameson didn't say anything, just watched. He wasn't really interested and let his eyes wander over to the dancers a few paces off. It was then he noticed something. All of them were human. What the hell? Usually a place like this would cater to any and all species, but then again, there were multiple bars aboard the station. Maybe this one was the human-centric establishment. It would make sense, as seemingly Darjeeling was the head honcho around here. Maybe he ran it. Even more of a reason to get into his good graces, perhaps. Jim would wait and see, like he always did, and follow the money. Safely.

 

Padmé

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"Sweetheart."

Oh Faith loathed that word. Endearing or not, she much preferred her name over that word.
"Faith will do."

She quickly retorted back to Darjeeling.
The man appeared unusually round. Perhaps like most rich criminals, he was also drowning in her is own fortune. Either that or his emotional troubles- a hallmark of most unhealthy creatures.
Be it what it may, Faith didn't crack a smile as she continued.

"I find it rather entertaining to ascertain people's view on politics. It's neither here nor there for me with this job. As long as I get my share of the credits."

Chin now slightly down, Faith took another drag of her cigars. The rest of the boss' entourage didn't look particularly interested with the patroons. Her other hand discretely glossed over her hidden gear. The feeling of her hand touching the gear fave her a sense of assurance. Just in case things go south!
 
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People talked, they danced, and then they might talk some more.

Perhaps it was merely a consequence of his upbringing, but Azur was scarce to understand how such recreation as this really managed to find its appeal. Simply nothing about this place - whether its taste in alcohol, music, or even basic fashion - made any sense to his mind. Perhaps it was meant to, a way to weed out those who did not belong in such a curious hive. All truths told, if he had to-
Azur paused in his thoughts, head shifting beneath his hood, glancing about. Had he just...? No, couldn't be. In this kind of place, how could there possibly be-
No, there was. How or why, he could not properly comprehend, but this kind of sensation... it was unmistakeable. After Christophsis, he could never forget this kind of feeling...

The feeling of a Jedi.

But where? Where in this festering hole that shifted across space could one such as them hide? They couldn't be far, now that he was aware they were there, but his senses were hardly so precise, and with so many people about...
No, no, fretting would not help. A sith ruled, and was not ruled by, their emotions. He needed to step back - or rather, lean back, into his seat - and take a moment to calm. Narrow his focus, try to bring the scale back down. Slowly, his eyes moved now, tracing the edges of where the sensation fell into his gaze, growing ever tighter, ever smaller, as he eliminated possibilities. He saw passionate flirts, cutthroats with fingers on their blasters, wandering waiters and waitresses, and...
Well, well, perhaps he should have been paying closer attention to those humans when they had first appeared.

Of course, now Azur couldn't be certain if it was them, or the other that was now in their company. Woman, red hair, and older by the looks of it. Even from this distance, it wasn't hard to see the way the fat one was making eyes, easily distracted. Hardly Jedi material, but then, he'd met at least one of their fallen - the possibility wasn't completely beyond Azur's mind.
Rising from his seat, Azur made his way towards the small group, his steps slow and measured. A waiter with a tray full of alcoholic beverages passed him by, and he briefly counted the drinks. Finding it enough, in one small move, he plucked the tray away from the other man, slipping into their other hand what was likely to be more than enough credits. Azur carried it to the table of his own accord, unsure of what was even sitting in his hands, but nothing smelled too strong.

"On the house." Azur believed that was the term, as he raised his voice near the trio. Placing all the drinks down, he invited himself to sit, finding a chair, and taking it. If there was a drink left - or if none had been touched at all - he would take one himself, and have a brief sip, attempting to indicate that he had not tampered with them in any fashion.
...Of course, he supposed, the waiter could have, depending on the customer...
"I apologise for dropping in like this, but I'm looking for... someone to employ." He could hardly expect to be kept in for the sake of whatever conversation was already being held, so he'd have to fall back onto this subject matter instead.
 

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Every now and again, mostly on a job, Jameson would get this feeling in the pit of his stomach, this feeling of unease or dread. It usually meant something bad was going to happen, like that time he had been double-crossed by that gang of Twi'leks. His eyes began to scan the room. He made note again of the distinct lack of aliens among the bar staff and dancers. There were, however a few among the patrons. Then as the red-head spoke again, Jim's eyes shot back to his own table.

She had spirit, which Jim had already guessed from the way she carried herself. Darjeeling however seemed to ignore that fact. Wait, something caught his eye... That gesture the red-head just made. She ran her hand over her hip. It reminded Jim of something, and then it hit him. A Jedi. Or a Sith. Hard to tell which was which these days, and harder still to tell whether they would cause him trouble. That feeling in his stomach was getting worse.

"Faith, what a beautiful name! I once knew a girl who--" Darjeeling was cut off by the cloaked figure who appeared.

"On the house."

Jim noticed the fat man's entire posture change, even though he had been sitting down.

"We didn't order any--" Once again he was cut off.

"I apologise for dropping in like this, but I'm looking for... someone to employ."

Darjeeling's eyes narrowed, but a great big fat smile once again returned to his face. He gestured to his entourage as he said: "No one here would accept employment from you, blue-skin." It came out with venom. It was clear the fat man had a great disdain for any non-humans.

Jameson looked at the newcomer and had that feeling of unease double. Something was odd about him too. The whole situation began to unnerve him, and he suddenly realized that he felt so very small. Unlike Faith he was unarmed. If something happened here he would have to run, not fight. Jim just wanted to have a few drinks and talk business with Darjeeling and maybe some of his associates.




 

Padmé

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Times have changed... The Alliance was no more, and the Jedi remaind fragmented. For this reason Faith always had a contengency plan, and operated under the radar. Today was no different. She took measures to not only hide her force signature, have backup help, but also tone things down a tad. After all, she was floating on another man's world!

The fact that Darjeeling's entourage consisted of only humans didn't bother Faith. In fact, the ex Jedi preferred it that way. In her line of work, she's noticed that Ither kinds of creatures tend to bring an air and a whole lot of banta dang!

Merely moments after Faith noted and basked in the abscense of non humans at the table, a rather unprepossessing Wroonian she'd ever seen. Though the Wroonian saved Faith from Darjeering's casual flirtatious remarks, she wasn't particularly elated. She took a long drag on her cigarra as she watched the man known as Azur proceeded to sit, at which point every red flag within Faith alluded to trouble.

When Azur offered the drink, Faith politely took the drink, but declined to drink he. In lieu of accepting the Azur's drink, she pawned it off to Jim. She cocked a half baked smile and then shrugged- pointing to the last glass on the tray.

"Looks like you get the last glass."
Faith said while handing the drink to the Jim.

Accepting Azur's drink would mean Faith was interested in his offer. She knew Dajeering already had a job for her, thus to ward off any conflicts of interest, the woman cut right to the chase.

"Not today."
A forced smile would immediately grace the red haired's face while she simultaneously lit a new cigarra.

Judging by the look on Jim's face, he wasn't certain about the Wroonian either. Trouble was brewing and Faith discretely took measures- just in case she needed to fall back on her hidden blade.


"Kraf- I didnt sign up for a fight on the interview."
The woman thought silently to herself.

 

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Azur was trying to reseat himself to a more comfortable position as the fat one gave him a new appellation, one that made the wroonian pause. He pulled back the hood to show his features, from the blue skin to the top knot in which he held his hair, and yellow eyes that briefly flared in outrage at the remark, before simmering back down to a calmer, more collected state. The redhead was quick to deny any possible employment in the moments thereafter, though she didn't take the time to even give a reason. Then again, with the possible lines of word around here, it may have been she simply didn't want to out whatever she may have been already up to - quite understandable.
But, with a quick glance across, Azur saw that the human of a darker complexion had yet to even speak up, whether for or against Azur's succinct proposal. This gave him potential room in which to work.
"...Not even if blue skin hid blue blood?" Azur queried, his tone euphemistic rather than literal.
"I am the heir to lands in the core worlds, and subsequently, of a nobility rich in power and wealth. Easily capable of paying whatever 'fee' you might so desire." But whilst he spoke generally, his eyes did linger on the human whom had been handed an extra drink, as the one who might be most... persuadable.

Of course, some parts of his words might turn into bluffs, depending on the response. He may have had some access to the family fortunes, but Azur's father was a paranoid man - with perhaps some hints of shrewd still left within him. Any sufficiently sizeable sum would draw attention, and the man would demand an explanation in turn; too large would be deemed outright suspicious, even from his own, and be quickly denied.
"And I imagine anyone here would... want quite a bit of compensation, to locate a particular Jedi on my behalf." Azur briefly wondered if these parts had heard of any of the distant encounters between Jedi and Sith in the outer rim, or if they, like many others, still believed the former to be in hiding, if not gone from this galaxy - as he had once.
"Locate, not capture or kill. I want the chance to eliminate her myself. I... owe her." Briefly, Azur raised his right leg, slipping the heel onto his chair, and raised his trouser leg. A prosthetic quickly slipped out from beneath the fabric, and likely made his point clear enough. Dropping it, he leaned in on the table.

"I suppose I could throw in a vouch for you, should the Imperium ever catch wind of... whatever it is you do. I imagine you don't normally get invited here for sticking to the legal side of business."
 

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Jim took the drink from Faith, but he didn't drink it. In fact, he set it down further away from himself than one might if they intended on drinking their drink. Jim did so, however, with a heavy heart. He didn't normally turn down drinks, especially free ones, and not at a time like this when he desperately needed something to take the edge off. Though he did have a flask in his jacket pocket... which he reached for, throwing a wink in Faith's direction. He then took a quick swig before turning his attention back to Darjeeling and the wroonian who didn't know when to stop talking.

"You see, Jameson? This, right here, is why I brought you to the Simulator," said the fat man, whose jowls shook violently with every syllable. "Aliens who don't know their place, who don't show respect to their betters."

Finally Jim seemed to find his voice again, probably helped by the liqueur from his flask. "Is it?"

"Yes, it is."

Darjeeling seemed to have signalled his men earlier, possibly the moment the wroonian had sat down, Jim wasn't sure, because when he looked around, several members of his entourage were staring daggers into the newcomer, blasters in hand. And with his peripheral vision, Jameson also noticed most of the staff were gone, replaced by more of the fat man's gangsters who were all bearing down on the table at which the group sat. Then he heard the sound of blast doors slammed shut.

"You know that shipment of black crates I had you move for me, Jameson? I know you don't ask questions or ever look at what's in the cargo you take on, so I'll tell you; experimental new blasters, cortosis-weaved body armor, and my favourite bit: a couple hydro-bomb rocket launchers. We're taking over this space station... for mankind."

Holy hell.
 

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Like Faith, the man known as Jim refused the gratis drink. She wasn't too fond of whiskey on the rocks anyway. Smiling- though only momentarily- she engaged in friendly exchange with Jim. Well, discretely to be precise. Inasmuch as Faith wanted to continue the friendly exchange with Jim, she couldn't. A certain uninvited guest was intruding. Now if only the Woorian knew what Faith knew about the trade...Timing.

Timing is everything- especially in Faith's line of work. Unlike the Woorian (who couldn't shut his trap), Faith new better. In a way she felt sorry for Azur. His larger than life personality and constant rants are all indicative of his kind. The more the Woorian ran his trap, the more pitiful Faith felt for him. Apparently Azur has failed to remember the lost art of timing. For that he'd suffer the terrible consequence. It was only a matter of time...

Unlike Azur, Dajeering, knew the art of timing. Like a showman (if one could imagine a fat one), Dajeering had his other entourage working in the background. The team of human's swift move to Dajeering's order was a site to behold. A sharp sound of blast doors would, however, interrupt the perfectly orchestrated move, giving Faith the chance to finally hush Azur.

"Shut up, you foolish-"
The Dajeering's cold tone would cut off Faith's words. A faint out of the ordinary noise would register in her ears. Calling on the Force, she would give the room a quick scan.

Disdain, and relief would both register on Faith's face.
"Finally. Ugh."

She couldn't be more pleased hear Dajeering's words.
"You know that shipment of black crates I had you move for me, Jameson?.. "

Luckily, Faith was in on the said shipment. Her informants brought her up to speed on said job merely minutes after she docked her ship for this job. She knew the job would have a huge bearing on the Mandolorians. What she didn't realize was the extent it would affect the galaxy at large.

The unusual noise she heard moments ago would register again. Only this time, Faith knew exactly where and who was responsible for the noise. The live music slowly faded, and then finally came to a stop while the fat man spoke.
"I know you don't ask questions or ever look at what's in the cargo you take on, so I'll tell you; experimental new blasters, cortosis-weaved body armor, and my favourite bit: a couple hydro-bomb rocket launchers. We're taking over this space station... for mankind."

"Fun."
Faith quickly interjected. She drew a rather long drag on her cigarra and then blew the smoke towards Jim. Once she was certain she'd caught Jim's attention, the former Jedi grabbed her hidden lightsaber, swiftly ignited the blade, jumped a few steps forward and plunged the blade into the bartender's heart.

"Don't touch the drink, Dajeering!"
The young red haired fired back.

By now the room would know that the man Faith took down was an informant sent to deal with Dajeering. Hidden behind the makeshift bar was a electronic device recording the meeting between Dajeering and his entourage. Picking up the hidden device Faith sighed-

"Your secret is out big boss..."


 

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"Oh, I show respect to my betters. But I do not see any right now."

That would have been what Azur was going to see, had there been room for banter at the moment. But as much as he would have enjoyed mocking the other man's blatant racism and disdain of other species, Azur soon realised that was a much more immediate, much greater matter to consider.
Namely, the matter of being surrounded.
Trust him to be distracted by a one sided conversation, giving the fat one time to swap out the patrons with his own men. Glancing about quickly, Azur counted their numbers... and found them a bit on the overly numerous side, for one such as himself. Perhaps if he had remembered to ask for Crusader Eris' company... or even Vindict or Nox, then things might be a bit more balanced. But as things stood right now...
Then another surprise, as the redhead suddenly moved, drawing a lightsaber into her hand. She struck down a bartender with a... odd ferocity for a Jedi, if she were one, revealing in the process that the man had been an informant. And given her remark about the drink...

Azur decided it was best, for now, if he just raised his hands. There other alternatives, for sure, but they carried a great deal of risk, however much he might be able to humiliate this 'Darjeering' in the process.
"It would appear that I underestimated you, good sir. I had taken you to be just another part of the criminal class, and that swiping a few drinks from unsuspecting bartender would have been enough to engage in a deal of some degree." Fortunately, he could put forward a more diplomatic performance, assuming this Darjeering was a total fanatic for this curious cause of his.
"But between your means, your men, and the lightsaber, I must imagine you are some greater than that, to which I must surrender. So too, I would hope, may we begin again? I am Azur Zaff, heir to house Zaff, rulers of the duchy of Tel, permanently seated in the Convened Council of Eskabahn, highest of the nations of Dentaal. And to whom, would I be speaking?"
 

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The redhead known as Faith smiled at Jim. Was she flirting? Oh yeah, definitely, an expression like that spoke volumes. Jameson however, didn't really have time to get past even the first page. Another sip from his flask. At this rate, he'd be drunk in a half hour.

Whoa. Darjeeling's revelation hit Jim like a ton of bricks. That's what this was all about? The fat man wanted to usurp the current criminal leader or leaders of the space station? A bold move considering the size and organization of a society such as this. He wondered what Darjeeling's next move was, and for how long he had been planning this coup. Was he just going to storm the place, room by room? Surely there were cameras all over the station...? Jim looked around, and found that he couldn't spot any. Wait, that actually makes sense. If people were being spied on, who would want to do business here? He also surmised that most of the rooms, especially the cantinas, would have to be soundproof too. How else could you pack in so many clubs without noise pollution screwing up your groove on the dance floor? All of this came to Jim as he sat in thought, slowly sipping from his flask. Then smoke blew in his face and brought him back to reality.

Faith. She had spotted something, and in the blink of an eye it was all over. A Jedi, here? he thought.

"Your secret is out big boss..."

Not a Jedi then, but she still wields a lightsaber!

Darjeeling seemed just as surprised as Jim, his eyes bulging out of his fat face. But he recovered quickly. "No matter, it's too late now!"

"I should never have come here!" Jim muttered under his breath.

"What's that, Jameson?" Darjeeling asked, his gaze never leaving the wroonian.

"N-nothing, sir!"

The table was surrounded now, Darjeeling's gangsters all focused on Azur. Why then, did Jim feel like he was the one in the biggest trouble? Ah yes, because he was but a simple smuggler, a transporter of goods, not a hired gunman or a soldier. Sure, he knew which end to point at a bad guy with with a blaster but that doesn't mean Jim was your man when picking thugs for an all-out assault on the Simulator. And which aliens was he supposed to hate again? All of them? He fought the urge to ask the fat man. Instead he continued to sit in silence as the wroonian began to speak, again.

The blue-skin finished with: "And to whom, would I be speaking?"

"I don't care who you are, or about your family's status or wealth," came Darjeeling's response. And then he pushed himself up and away from the table to address his men, who numbered over a dozen in the immediate vicinity. "Cuff him and check for weapons!" Darjeeling pointed at four of the men and gestured to Azur. "The rest of you with me."

Jim still sat at the table.

"Jameson, come on; with me!"
 

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Luckily for Faith, the bartender did not protest. Had he done so, she would have been in a rather awkward position. Azur, however, talked himself deeper into the depths of peril.

Blade now shut down and back in its hiding place, the red haired moved closer to Darjeeling. She had no choice. The fat man was beckoning her, along with Jim to come along. To resist the unprepossessing man's demands would be a futile exercise. Thus the former Jedi made haste.

"Yes?"
She whispered to Darjeeling, albeit firmly, as though she was his equal.

 

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Azur sighed mentally, and at least some small part physically. This kind of radical was the kind that wasn't even open to a little negotiation, so driven by their beliefs. And in this case, the belief was that Azur, as part of a non-human species, was so far beneath the other man by the very laws of the universe that it was not worth even a proper introduction. Azur documented this behaviour in his mind, and he hoped that the fat man would do the same. The wroonian wanted this one to remember this moment, for the later lesson that Azur now planned.
For now, however, Azur did not resist, still noting the numbers around him. He briefly turned his head to glance at this 'Jameson', who seemed to have not been entirely let in on the fat man's plans. Therein lay a possibility, but Azur would only go so far as to bet on it.
"The offer still stands." Was all he said as the four men came over and cuffed him, resigning himself to their search for potential arms. They'd pat the cloak a while until they found something, and considering Azur carried only one distinctive kind of armament, it was not exactly hard to imagine what it was.

When the lightsaber was found, Azur kept a wary eye on which way it went, and ultimately, to whom. Perhaps, Darjeeling's gaze and ears would already be long gone, leaving the four men to deal with the find among themselves. Perhaps the fat man had waited, and so would receive the weapon as a gift. Perhaps he waited and watched, and ordered the weapon taken away. Whatever happened, happened, and Azur let it be as he was led away. Odd, with Darjeeling's obvious bigotry, for him to not try and kill Azur where he stood... but perhaps there was some shred of honour beneath the rolls. That or he had an ego to stroke by seeming 'merciful' to the 'lesser being'.

Whatever the case, where Azur was led to was a small cell, though how long he was meant to be held, was hard to say. And noone would have a chance to say, as beyond sight and range of Darjeeling's dozens of gunmen, Azur was far more free to act. And he would start by casting his knee towards the nearest man's stomach, attempting to throw his cuffs over their head, and his body behind them. Assuming nothing went wrong, it would behis first position of power, looking towards the other three from behind a meatshield.
"Release me." He'd say, if it worked. If not, then there'd probably be swearing instead.
 

Ser Yorick

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Frank had been working for Darjeeling's gang now for about two weeks. He knew the fat man was cruel, and he knew what was being asked of him, manning the cantina floor. Frank didn't agree with what was happening, nor did he want to engage in these types of illicit activities, especially the violent ones, but what choice did he have? Marie was home alone trying to raise four kids, he needed to bring home the space bacon! Without a steady paycheck, they were doomed. He wanted to provide for his family, but all legal opportunities had dried up after... after what happened. It was a misunderstanding! Frank had been framed! It wasn't him that sent that memo, it was her! His boss wouldn't listen though, nobody ever did. Whatever, Frank would get what was his, what he was owed. He would make money for his family, even if it meant he had to crack a few skulls and shoot some lizards with a laser gun. At least, that's what he had told himself...

"The offer still stands."

Frank was the one to cuff the wroonian, along with Bill, Werdor, and Fritz. Fritz he knew from back in school when they were kids, but Bill and Werdor he met on the job. He didn't really like those two much. They, like Darjeeling, were cruel. Frank wasn't. "H-hands behind your-- uh, back!" Frank stammered. He was scared, but managed to cuff Azur with relative ease. Good, the wroonian wasn't going to make things difficult. Frank hated difficult, if only because the others would laugh at him when he screwed up. Bill and Werdor laughed often. But Fritz, Fritz gave Frank a curt nod before the other two came in for the pat down.

They found the lightsaber easily enough. It was a point of contention, however, who would take it to Darjeeling, who had already left with both his guests, and everybody else except the door guards, who weren't ever allowed to leave their posts. "I think Fritz should take it," said Werdor after a bit of hushed arguing with Bill. "Yeah, that's perfect!" said Bill. "Leave Frank and us to deal with the blue-skin!"

Frank began to counter: "What about one of the--"

"Doormen? No, they have to stay." Werdor looked Frank in the eyes, acting all tough. "I think the three of us can handle one unarmed alien scum, don't you?"

Fritz gave Frank a reassuring pat the back before heading off with the lightsaber to find Darjeeling.

***

Jim got up to go with Darjeeling and Faith, the latter of which he looked at with fresh eyes now that he was aware she was, or used to be, a Jedi of sorts. That combat-readiness he had felt earlier made sense now. The way she carried herself however, was very unlike typical Jedi. At least, not the ones Jameson had ever run into. Most of the Jedi he'd met were stuck up pricks and sticklers for the rules, both characteristics that tend to cause trouble for smugglers like Jim. But Faith was different, he could tell by the way she moved, the way she dragged on her cigarra, blew smoke in his face... oh, and the way she killed a guy in cold blood right in front of him!

Darjeeling led them through one of the side rooms, opening the blast doors to let them pass, then shutting them again. It looked like a control room of sorts. "Now that I know it was you who was sent to help me get this thing going, I'll let you in on the plan," the fat man said to Faith. He sat down at a desk with a bunch of buttons and knobs, probably door mechanisms, maybe also where they controlled the music, which Jim now realised had completely shut off! Whoa! He hadn't even noticed! A bunch of black crates also sat in the corner, mostly all opened and rummaged through. Fifteen gangsters stood around Faith and Jim, fully armed and ready to go. This was it.

"I want you to lead a team through the adjoining hallway into the Nikto sector and--"

"Sir! Sorry to interrupt--" Fritz had come running into the room, breathing heavily.

"Then don't!"

He held up the lightsaber.

Darjeeling's eyes went wide. Another Jedi? Or... a Sith? "Fritz, is it?" He didn't even wait for the guard to respond before continuing. "Take these five men up front back to the holding area. Kill him!"

***

The man Azur kneed was Frank, who bent over in agony and subsequently swept up in the wroonian's cuffed choke-hold. He couldn't breathe. Marie!

Werdor and Bill drew their blasters, and fired.

***

The Nikto sector, that's what Darjeeling meant about Jim having a stake in this, why he brought him here. He knew about Jim's upbringing on The Barbarian, and the barbaric things he endured at the hands of the Nikto thug captains Grog and Nak. Darjeeling thought that Jim of all people would want revenge, and this would be his opportunity. Well, he was wrong. Jim didn't want to fight anybody. He transported goods, not fired blasters, and besides, he didn't hate aliens! Hell, he slept with a twi'lek just last week! "Darjeeling--"

The fat man turned to Jim. "Jameson, grab yourself a rifle and some body armour, you're going with her."

"But sir, I'm a lover--" he protested but was once again cut off. I assume you can guess what he was about to say.

"Jameson, this has already started. You're in it now, and I need every man on my side.

"Faith," Darjeeling turned to her. "You're going to lead my men through the hall into the Nikto sector. They probably already know what we're up to, what with that bartender relaying everything I said in there, but they won't expect this."

As the fat gangster told Faith of his plan, Jim couldn't help but zone out. How am I supposed to get out of this one? he thought. He could stay close to the redhead. She had skills, and probably wouldn't be cut down during the fighting, but what if she expected him to fight? And what kind of person was she? How could a Jedi turn to this sort of work? Unless she was one of those Sith people, and this was part of whatever plan the Imperium had concocted and Darjeeling was just some pawn. Either way, she had a brilliant violet lightsaber that could protect him from nasty blaster bolt scarring on his sweet formal brown and orange flight jacket. He had worn the thing thinking to dance a little bit and get some new contacts, at a club, not a battleground. Jim hoped he would stay safe, and find some way out of this...


 
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Padmé

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Sadly for the Wroonian his credits couldn't get him out of the sour pickle. Faith merely glanced his direction while the men did Darjeeling's biding and handcuffed Azur. At Azur's request, the former Jedi along with Jameson, followed him to the more formal meeting area. Faith didn't miss a beat. Shortly upon entry into the new room, she studied every detail- albeit discretely. Nothing in the room fazed Faith. Not the empty crates, or even the armed half a dozen or so men! She took another long drag of the rolled devilish leaves while Darjeeling found himself a seat. It'll do you well to stand, she thought quietly to herself.

"Now that I know it was you who was sent to help me get this thing going-"
The woman heard, at which point she tuned in a bit more for the punch line. Oh, she was certain the unprepossessing man was heading somewhere with his carefully chosen words. Turning to Jameson, Faith whispered-
"Here comes the punch line."

"...I'll let you in on the plan."
Faith couldn't help but smile. The smile was not because she felt she'd finally proven herself to Darjeeling, but because she'd managed to finally get a crack out of the Jameson.

Another unfavorable interruption would stop Darjeeling. Only this time the interruption came at a cost to the culprit, and a rude awakening to Faith. She almost protested the harsh punishment, but upon second thought, she held her resolve- least she become another example. No, she valued her life and the pleasure of her son's company far too much! For that reason, she simply dragged on her cigarra while Darjeeling ordered five men to face death.

When the final instructions came forth, she simply tipped her invincible hat and motioned for Jameson to follow. Faith could tell, Jameson was not entirely pleased with the task, particularly returning to the Nikto sector. The ex Jedi made a mental note to inquire about the latter. For now, she had an enormous task at hand.

"I hope you can at least use the blaster of yours."
Faith uttered to Jameson shortly upon exiting the room.

Meanwhile, she didn't wait for his response. She quickly drew on her Jedi training and beckoned the Force completely around her. There were men (and perhaps women), and other aliens on the ship who would love to get Darjeeling's attention. Faith was very much cognizant of the threat, and thus created the strongest Force shield she could muster in the heat of the moment. Moving forward with the task of leading the men to Nikto sector, Faith motioned the men to go ahead of her and her accomplice while she trailed directly behind them, with her blade in hand- ready to fight should the need present itself.

"Jedi business."
"Move along folks."
Faith found herself saying.

Her choice of words wasn't the most tactful move. Given the current state of the Jedi, and the Imperium, Faith should have known better!

Unbeknown to Faith, trouble was around the corner....





 

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Well, he'd be damned. For all Darjeeling's tripe on human superiority, his flunkies cared less for their kind than Azur himself did.

Certainly, not one of them had hesitated to shoot their ally, whilst he at least had tried to talk his way out of the situation (albeit with some aggression). But as the stranger's body fell limp in his hands, Azur needed to think. He held it high for a few moments more with his cuffs beneath the dead man's chin, but dragging around literal dead weight would undoubtedly slow him down. With it having soaked up a few hits for him, he at least had a moment...
And seeing opportunity, he took it.
For only a brief moment, Azur called upon the power of the force, gathering it between his palms. Energies swirled, and then with a quick flick forward, were released in a shockwave that gave a small, booming noise that rung through the air. It would fly towards the two goons, and unless they managed to dodge that which they could not see - but that they might predict, should either of them be familiar with the force - they should be struck by enough kinetic energy to throw them from their feet, perhaps even into the wall if Azur's luck was about him.

But, he chose not to rely on it, instead dropping the dead man's body, and as it fell, quickly raiding the corpse for their sidearm. The act left a certain distaste in his mouth, given the dishonour in stealing from the deceased. But, practical need had to trump ethical course, and once the weapon was in hand, Azur did the only thing he naturally could. He unloaded the energy cell several times by firing on the two who had tried to kill him, whilst also poking about the body before him for some kind of access key or code or something to get this confounded set of cuffs off of him.
 

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Fitz had just come round the corner when the first shots were fired. Red light danced its way back and forth across his vision, blinding him. For a brief moment he did not even react, as it took time for his brain to register what was happening, and then... Fitz saw Frank fall. Everything slowed to a crawl, the way they do in big budget action holo vids, ever since that one with... what did they call it? 'Blaster bolt time'. He forgot what it was about, something to do with thinking the world existed inside a computer. Back to the slow-mo. The prisoner had gotten free somehow and tried to use Frank as a shield, which apparently had't worked out well, what with the blaster fire tearing through Frank's body. But Fitz didn't care about the wroonian, for all his attention was on his friend, the one in the line of fire.

Laser bolts ripped through both Werdor and Bill. Bill caught one in the throat, took one last gasp of air and tumbled over backward. Werdor on the other hand, only got hit in the shoulder. The force of shot sent him reeling, luckily for him the momentum spun him just enough to accidentally dodge an incoming bolt that would have ended his life as well, but instead only whizzed past his ear.

The other five men that arrived with Fitz began to open fire as well, but only got off a few bolts before Fitz snapped back to reality. Sort of.

"FFFRANK!" he screamed as he rushed to his fallen friend. The wroonian had found what he was looking for and recoiled as the broken man that was Fitz descended on his comrade's body. "Frank, stay with me! You can't--you can't d--Oh, Frank!" He clutched at his friend, his hands running over Frank's face. He locked eyes with Frank's still open pair, looking for any sign of life. There wasn't any. "Y-you can't die yet, Frank! I have to tell you... I-I have to tell you before... Frank, I love you! I love you, Frank!" Fitz took a breath. "You can't die now!"

***

What was waiting around the corner was trouble indeed. That trouble came in the form of a dozen fully armed Nikto mercenaries. As it turned out, the spy Faith had intercepted back in the cantina had transmitted his message before being found out. The Niktos knew that Darjeeling was making his move, and they prepared for it. They weren't going to give up their sector of the Simulator without a fight. And so these mercenaries had loaded up on everything they had, and waited around the corner from the adjoining hallway. Blaster rifles, detonation packs, body armour, vibroblades; you name it, one of them was bound to be carrying it. And as Faith and company rounded the corner...

All hell broke loose.

But let's back up a bit first.


"I hope you can at least use the blaster of yours."

"I know to pull the trigger when it's not pointed at me, if that's what you're asking." Jim carried the blaster rifle Darjeeling had made him take up with complete unfamiliarity. It's not that he was entirely new to guns, he was simply used to holding pistols. Emphasis on the holding part. Normally all Jameson Edwards had to do in his line of duty was grip a blaster pistol in his hand and scowl menacingly, and trouble run away scared. But this? He wasn't prepared for this, not even the laser-resistant vest he had picked up from the black crates in the fat man's office could instill confidence in him. If it came down to it, Jim would obviously fight to his last breath, but he would prefer to fight on his own terms, when he knew he had the clear advantage. Never would he choose to take on the role of a soldier fighting in a battle. But we've said that enough already.

All hell broke loose, and hell? Well, it's not Jim's natural habitat.

The first salvo fired by the Niktos caught Darjeeling's men completely by surprise. Blaster bolts flew through their ranks, decimating Faith's fully armed squadron before they could even react. Jim took three shots to the chest, but thanks to his vest, all they left were scorch marks.

Immediately Jameson ducked back around the corner, not even returning fire. To hell with Darjeeling and Faith, he was outta here!
 

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soowies for the delay, gaiz!



Trouble was indeed around the corner!

Decked in the finest body armour, vibroblades, sleek blaster rifles and the mother of detonation packs- men and oddly enough one female rounded the corner that Faith lead Darjeeling's men.

"Kraffin great mother of the galaxy."
Faith thought (silently to herself) at the sight of the opposition.

"I know to pull the trigger when it's not pointed at me-"
Jameson's response was not in the least assuring. Had Darjeeling sent her a nerfhearder propagating himself to be a smuggler? Be it what it may, the red haired former Jedi had no time to waste. Not with the opposition coming at her!

Still strategically positioned behind the men, the fiery red haired summoned the Force to her hands. Within seconds what would be powerful shots of energy were aimed at the man holding the detonation packs. The act itself would render the man's arms useless- for a time. Maneuvering right along, Faith channeled the rest of the powerful energy around the detonation pack. If successful, the packs will be dragged away from the floor unto to a near by moving crate.

Keeping up with the Force bubble around her, amid the escalating debacle, proved to be a great feat. Nevertheless, Faith persisted. Considering the look on Jameson's face, and his inaction, she had to! Not only had Jameson failed to fire at the opposition, but the so called men assigned to Faith to lead to the next phase of capturing the Simulator were being assaulted. Next to Faith stood aimless Jameson. There was a telling look in the man's eyes as she tried to read, and assess the best course of action. Merely seconds into her thoughts, she snapped out of it only to witness Jameson evading. It was in that moment that she realized the odds incredibly stacked against her.

Mere seconds later, Faith was back in the moment. Her final contingency plan was now set in motion...

With a swift move of her dominant hand, she summoned her last help- via the hidden feature on her purple lightsaber. While Darjeeling's men fought head on, Faith concentrated on disarming every single opposition- via the Force. She channeled strong bolts of lightning at hands, and eyes of every attacker. Her other hand held on to her blade as she fought for her life!
 
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