Bright-eyed and Bushy-tailed

[Riley Dee]

[Death-Disabled... but I think this might lead to a non-lethal cantina fight]
[Please read Rex Andarre character sheet before joining]

First thing's first. Get to a cantina.

Rex Andarre walked out of the docking port, taking his first steps into the behemoth sprawl that was Coruscant. All the sights, sounds and bustle in the cities and under-cities of Telos IV simply couldn't compare to... well, to this. Standing there, with a large canvas travel bag slung over his shoulder, Rex couldn't help but gape, open-mouthed at the skyline that stretched and climbed towards the clouds, three hundred and sixty degrees around him. Behind each and every pointed tower and domed structure was another equally awe-inspiring building behind it to match. Telos IV felt almost plain and militant now--an oversized apartment or a bunker compared to the complexity of Coruscant. Walking over to the edge of the docking port entrance, Rex peered over the edge to realize how far above the planet's surface he really was, and that possibly hundreds of stories below, the city was as deep as it was tall.

Hiking the strap of his bag higher onto his shoulder, and patting the shape of the blaster holstered inside his vest (for reassurance), Rex took a minute to re-orient himself. He was only 10 or 20 thousand credits away from buying his own ship. To make those last necessary credits, he'd need to get to a Cantina and find some work. This wouldn't be a problem. On Telos, he'd done plenty of jobs for seedy loan-sharks and underground bookies. He knew the type to look for, the type that was hiring, the type that would pay in quick credits for jobs that no one else wanted to do.

Sure enough, within an hour and a half of his arrival on the planet, Rex limped painfully into The Crinnian's Escape. The Crinnian was a cantina, packed with no-good's and hoods, conspiring and spice-dealing quietly in the dark corners of smokey booths. The only real volume came from the over-drunk rabble hanging near the bar. Suddenly the feeling of being overwhelmed melted away. This was a sleazy whole in the wall. A den of evil. And while Rex had never considered himself sleazy or evil, he knew he'd feel right at home here. As far as criminal-laden joints went, The Crinnian wasn't hard to find, though there was a small crisis in asking for directions--a small miscommunication.

Completely lost, Rex had stopped a female Rodian, and attempted to ask (in Rodian), "Excuse me, can you tell me where The Crinnian's Escape is? I'll give you credits for directions."

Unfortunately, his Rodian was sparse, only knowing a few phrases here and there from the occasional Rodian traders that stopped to deal in the Wares District of Telos. So, what he had actually asked was, "Excuse me, can you telll me how fat The Crinnian's Escape is? I might eat your small child for credits."

This of course lead to an extended beating, Rex's shins absorbing much of the kicking and wild hand-bag swinging. Afterward, an ancient old man with a mouth too big for is face took pity, and led him--practically by hand--to the cantina's entrance. On Telos IV, Rex had a reputation of being prone to great accidents and misunderstandings, and despite the fact that many of these ended up benefiting him some way, the small-time criminal underworld of Telos had given the moniker, "The Unlucky One."

Now, legs aching, Rex sits at The Crinnian's bar with all of his possessions in a sack, an account full of credits (for the first time in his life), and the blaster hidden away next to his rib cage. All Rex Andarre needs now is to find some dirty work. And credits.

 

[Riley Dee]

Looking each way over his shoulder, Rex appraised the scene. Many of these people either worked under a crime boss or were crime bosses. If shady dealings on Coruscant were anything like the shady dealings in Telos IV, this cantina was a market-place in disguise. Guns for hire, spice trading, thieves--at this time of night, every patron knew someone, who knew someone, who knew someone that could find what you're looking for.

Chances were, if Rex hung out and kept to himself long enough, someone would take notice. Some drunkard would start a fight, and Rex would end it--stylishly, establishing himself as a seasoned and able-bodied gun-for-hire. Until then, he'd just have to play it cool.

In an effort to increase his calm and enigmatic presence, Rex smirked knowingly to himself leaned up against the cantina bar, accidentally sticking his elbow into a saucer of dipping sauce. Rex swore quietly, hastily looking around to see if anyone had noticed.

 

[The Captain]

It was weird, normally you had to go to some dive bar in the Outer Rim, the kind of place that doesn't even have a solid floor, to get the scent of stale piss and dried blood. But this place seemed to have a natural odeur de toilette to it that truly enhanced the back-alley watering hole experience. The presence of junkies, dealers, call girls, and paranoid bums was just icing on the cake. Now, under normal circumstances Chuckles, as he was often called, would not have come here for his various fixes, but his circumstances were currently not normal. Firstly, he had been stirring a bit of trouble across the city-planet, and holes in the wall like this were the only places the Lethan could secure some proper spice and booze. Second, he need some volunteers for his next big capper, and the people here seemed either drunk enough or desperate enough to do.

His thoughts were interrupted when a human male down the bar ended up leaning in someone's sauce. While no one else seemed to notice or care, the Twi'lek found himself bursting into a small fit of giggles at the comical, yet unintentional, maneuver.

 

[Riley Dee]

Wiping down the elbow of his sleeve with a bar napkin, Rex looked over just in time to see the Lethan down the bar openly smiling at his unfortunate arm placement. Great. A witness. Rex considered throwing a rude gesture in the direction of the grinning Lethan, but it was at that exact moment that an oily voice sounded off right behind him. "Wrong cantina, friendo?" Turning around calmly, Rex stared straight into the face of a Zabrak, his facial pattern a jigsaw of black and orange. If Rex Andarre was looking for a drunken bully to publicly shame, this would do nicely.

 

[The Captain]

'Ooh, looks like this is about to get entertaining.' Leaning back more on the bar, Chuck decided to simply watch what the unfortunate human would do when faced with an aggressing Zabrak.

((Crappy short post time!))

 

[Riley Dee]

Rex Andarre spread his hands wide in a congenial gesture, smiling pleasantly at the Zabrak. Speaking loud enough for all on-lookers to hear, Rex said, "Wrong Cantina? Nothing's wrong here, buddy. I mean look at this place! We've got drinks, good friends, good music... Beautiful girls..." and with this he winked at a nearby Twiilek waitress.

The waitress frowned.

"No sir, I think this cantina is just the kinda place I want to be." Rex's expression changed, but not drastically. The smile and laid-back body language was still there, but his voice was now cold and his eyes told the zabrak a very unfriendly story. Now, everyone who was previously uninterested in this run-of-the-mill squabble had turned their heads and set down their drinks. More than a few hands were dipping discretely into jackets and holsters to grip their own weapons. Still looking the zabrak in the eyes, Rex said, "In fact, the only thing I see here that I don't like, is you...friendo."

 

[The Captain]

He was sitting on the edge of his stool, this was too good to be true! This idiot was about to start a massive brawl across the bar, and all over a tray of dipping sauce. It was too good to be true, he had to be on some holo-show, some hidden camera program where this moron set people off just for laughs. With all eyes on the human, he reached over the bar to snag a bottle of whatever watered down piss they were calling whiskey was, popping the cap off and taking a swig.

Eyes still riveted on the foolishly bold young man, he began to reach into his coat, taking a firm hold of one of his anti-personnel grenades. Tonight's entertainment was about to begin.

 

[Riley Dee]

The Zabrak wasn't about to lose face. It was he who had made the first move afterall. If he backed off now, he'd never be able to show his face in The Crinnian's Escape again. The quiet throughout the cantina was palpable. Before Rex could track his movements, the zabrak freed a short blade from somewhere in his vest and had it pressed hard against The Unlucky One's neck, a small bead of blood welling up at the tip and running a short distance down the edge.

"Either you don't know who I am, or you're not very smart." The zabrak scowled daringly, albeit drunkenly, around the room. With the tip still pressed against Rex's throat, he roared around at all present to witness, "IS THERE ANYONE HERE...who does not know my name?!" The room was silent in response. "I am Kranmel Grast! And you, my idiot friend, are a dead man."

Kranmel Grast smiled down at Rex, his yellow eyes gleaming with malicious glee. The advantage was his. The human would die and in turn, another public victim would be added to his grisly reputation.

Then there was the whine of Rex's blaster.

Grast looked down slowly to see the business end of a DH-17 pressed just below the bottom of his ribcage. The Zabrak slowly raised both hands to float by the space around his ears. His smile was gone.

"Now, Grast--it was Grast, wasn't it? I won't pretend to be an expert on anatomy. I have no idea how the innards of a Zabrak compares to that of a Human's, but I bet if I pull this trigger and sent a charge right through you, here--" and Rex push the blaster forward forcing Kranmel Grast to grunt in pain, "--it would probably hurt pretty damn bad." And Rex smiled cordially. "Am I right?"

 

[The Captain]

The suspense was killing him, this entire situation was just escalating higher and higher. Now the human and this Grant, or whatever his name was, had each other at weapon point. He couldn't resist.

"Kill him!!" Not five seconds after he had spoken those words, a large Ithorian moved up behind him, putting him in a chokehold. As he did, the Twi'lek dropped the grenade he had been thumbing in his coat pocket, causing it to tumble across the floor. On instinct, he kicked off the bar, causing the Ithorian to land back-first on the live ordnance. Eyes shifted to the sudden and inexplicable scuffle that had broken out at the opposite end of the bar just in time for the grenade to go off. The body of the goon managed to absorb the shrapnel, although there was enough blast force to send Chuckles flying.

Not that he cared, with that blast, anarchy broke out in the bar.

 

[Riley Dee]

Distracted by what looked like a projectile Twi'lek, Rex didn't have time to stop Kranmel Grast from snatching the blaster from his hands. The zabrak stood back and let out a, "ha!" his face a perfect picture of relief and triumph. Grast aimed the blaster directly at The Unlucky One's nose and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing.

Then he squeezed the trigger a second time. Again, nothing. While Rex stood there wincing and preparing to see a great white light, his blaster gave a soft dying sound in Grast's hands. The zabrak had time to pull off one puzzled expression before Rex's fist collided into his temple, dropping Grast to the floor. All around him the cantina had gone from "out of hand" to "complete bedlam," drinks and ion pulses flew, shattering glass and limbs. In the corner, the Bith musician quivered under a tabletop. With all of this happening around him, Rex bent to pick up his blaster and fiddled with. He had bought it only three weeks ago. Nothing. "It's faulty! Reputable dealer, my ass!"

 

[The Captain]

Bursting into a perpetual fit of laughter, the Twi'lek crawled across the floor of the bar under flying bottles, bodies, and blaster bolts. Reaching the bar, he hoisted himself over the counter landing squarely next to the cowering bartender. The man's incessant whimpering was interrupting his fun, so he elected to crack him over the head with a loose bottle.

"Drink truly does terrible things to your head." Snickering to himself, the voice of the unlucky human who had started this rang out. Apparently, the blaster he had pulled wasn't functional. This had turned out even better than he had hoped, as the entire bar had collapsed into a shootout, all over someone sticking their elbow in dipping sauce. Priceless.

Shimmying down the bar toward the human, he sprang over the counter and hauled him back over to his side of the barrier. Once the human was situated, Chuckles would offer him a bottle of scotch.

"So, we having fun yet?"

 

[Riley Dee]

Sitting on a pile of glass and covering both ears from the blaster fire and screams, Rex leaned back a little to consider the Lethan. "I've had--agh!" Someone's poor marksmenship shattered a bottle on the bar above them, showering them with more glass and interrupting him. "I've had worse nights, I guess."

On all fours, Rex started to root around behind the bar, opening each cabinet one at a time until, "Aha!" Rex pulled out a rifle the barkeep kept hidden. Then he saw the barkeep twitching unnaturally on the ground nearby. "What the heck happened to him?"

 

[The Captain]

"Pfft, hehehehe..." Chuckles sat back, trying to catch his breath from the uproarious laughter he had been experiencing ever since his grenade went off. Turning back to the bartender, he noticed that his convulsing body was distracting his guest. Seizing him by the head, he bashed it hard against the floor, which either killed him or knocked him out, he really didn't care.

"I have no idea what happened to him." His expression was purely deadpan, as though he really did have no clue what had happened to the bartender. "Say, what's your name? I didn't catch it over the sounds of the shooting."

 

[Riley Dee]

Rex Andarre smiled and extended a hand. "Rex. Rex Andarre. And you?"

 

[The Captain]

"Just call me Chuck!" He reached out and took Rex's hand, giving him a small jolt via the Shock Gloves hidden under his real gloves. "Pleasure to meet you!" A dead body collapsing over the bar between them interrupted Chuckle's mirth, but only briefly. Poking his head up slightly over the bar, he saw that most of the patrons were either wounded or had fled. Surprisingly few had been actually killed, disappointing given the sheer volume of blaster fire in the air.

"Maybe we should take this somewhere else."

 

[Riley Dee]

Rex rubbed the point of contact from the gag buzzer and peered at the Twi'lek curiously. "You're an interesting guy, Chuck." Resting the body of the blaster rifle on his shoulder, he looked around at the carnage. Most everyone that still had use of their legs were helping eachother towards the door. A few just sat around dull-eyed and shell-shocked. "Yeah... Yeah, I guess the party is just about winding down. I sense a lull. Gimme a sec, and I'll buy you a beer somewhere nicer." Rex Andarre hopped over the bartop and made his way to the writhing zabrak on the floor. Grast's wounds were superficial. Given the chance, he'd heal. "You can't do this. I have friends. Terrifying friends! Please... PLEASE!"

The Unlucky One pointed his blaster rifle down into the zabrak's chest.

Bang.

"Alright, Chuck. Let's go." And then, intoxicated by his own badass-ery, he began to stride off towards the door with his duffle in one hand, and a newfound gun slung over his shoulder. Then he tripped. "#@?!"

 

[The Captain]

"Excellent!" He leapt to his feet and hopped over the counter, surveying the carnage left after the shootout. The place was a disaster area, blood, booze, and carbon scoring marked almost every surface. There were bodies, dead and alive, propped up behind overturned tables and booth walls, and those who could still move were hastening themselves out the door. Stretching his arms to the sides, he closed his eyes, reveling in the scents and sounds of post-bedlam recovery. This really was what he lived for.

His brief moment of tranquility was shattered by the inane whining of the Zabrak that had helped start this little escapade. Chuckles would have plugged the man for his rude interruption had his new friend not beaten him to the punch. Shrugging and rolling his shoulders, he began to walk toward the exit when Rex somehow managed to stumble over himself, landing squarely on his own face. Such a slapstick ending to such an impressive display of cold-bloodedness left the Twi'lek cackling yet again.