Ask Getting Off This Rock

[Milo Corr]

The bazaar was in a rather unique position in one of the middling levels of the Deep Core world of Empress Teta. Close enough to the cosmopolitan spires above to alert Tetan Security should anything overtly violent occur, but also deep enough that patrols rarely came around. It was close enough to the elevated surface that many travelers, though rarely tourists, passed through it in search of a wide variety of both illicit and legal goods. While local gangs still held sway, their authority was often defanged the moment anything turned louder than a knife in a dark alley.

Sunlight trickled between the few cracks and lanes above, competing with the nauseating and overwhelming artificial lights of blue, teal, and red which dotted the cramped duracrete walls. Pollution choked the air as many of the old filtration units were in a state of disrepair and both water and sludge pooled in areas with poor drainage, runoff from the artificial lakes and parks above and faulty pipes.

Merchants manned stalls or shops, just as many with a license as without, hocking wares to bustling rows of people which were the only stable foundation this place had. Thousands of sentients filtered through these markets everyday, with pockets full of credits.

It was here that a haggard vagabond stalked through the flowing lanes of people like a fish in water, searching. It had been two months since his stint for petty theft but by his appearance it was almost impossible to tell that not long ago he had consumed three meals a day and lived in a sterile environment. He hadn’t eaten in a cycle, and given the gauntness of his cheeks, food was never a guarantee.

Threadbare, frayed, dirty, twitchy, he appeared no different than any other addict except that while his eyes searched for a score they appeared surprisingly unaffected by the lifestyle. Soft and round, rather than hawkish and edged with malice. They could not, however, hide the predatorial glint as he scanned through the crowd.

All he needed was one good haul, to pinch the right item off the right person, the pocket of some low level aristocrat or corporate that had strayed too far from sterling safety and the transient would be off the rock that had been his home. His left forearm ached for the feel of the injector, yet it hadn’t been long since his last run-in with needle, the vagrant had enough control of himself that this time things would be different.

A single score between him and freedom.

 

[Zira Suvan]

Zira never imagined herself ever venturing over to the Core Worlds. Though it had been years since she was sold from Zygerria, she had changed several masters since then. Most of them lingered around Hutt space till she was sold to the next highest bidder. She knew she had to make the most of the time she had left in her youth before her value dropped significantly. Zira kept her artistic talents in dancing and music to be enticing enough to make her worth the buy.

Her current owner was a wealthy Nemoidian named Gulpo Vrook. Gulpo fashioned himself the most magnificent thing to grace the galaxy since bacta. He strutted the streets as if they were paved for him, and one could almost hear the fanfare tune to herald his arrival wherever he went. Zira followed behind him obediently. He found chains to be far too unsightly, but there was no mistaking the collar around her neck that bought her obedience even without a chain linking it. He held a device that could stun her at best or - at worst- send spikes into her neck. None of that was necessary, of course, Zira had been in this life long enough to know what happened to rebels.

“You will fetch me a pretty credit tonight,” He said with a snigger as he made his way towards a stall selling jewelry. Zira said nothing, keeping a docile bearing as she slinked behind him. Gulpo began to haggle with a shopkeeper over some earrings. Their target tonight was a grand party where Gulpo wanted to schmooze with some corporate tycoons and diplomats and he hoped to offer Zira up as entertainment.

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

It was impossible not to miss Gulpo Vrook, whose very presence parted the flow of the crowds like a stone in a river. The less important and poor scurried away while the utilitarian and the militant stepped aside. It was often better to not draw the attention of the self-important as calling such a bluff wasn't worth the ensuing trouble. For Milo, however, the Nemoidian was the perfect target. Anyone capable of flaunting such riches was also held the capacity to lose it, the only issue was the attending Zygerrian.

Slavery wasn't an unknown concept, especially to the amateur historian, but within the Core Worlds such practices had been outlawed or taboo, at least concerning the thoughts of the common Tetan. Slavery was something that happened on the Outer Rim or upon the worlds of uncivilized brutes, so he mistook the control collar for merely just another piece of strange jewelry on who was otherwise merely an aide or escort.

Similarly as one might a slave, however, he paid her little heed as Milo slipped through the crowd to draw near to the pair. He was just another dirty face in the crowd, unremarkable and easily forgotten. The only difference, however, was that his keen eyes were locked upon the Neimoidian's hands and the lips of the merchant. Picking pockets was as often a game of information as it was of distraction, Milo had to know where Gulpo kept his credits or other pinchable valuables. "Come on... Lift those slimy hands," he muttered, slipping into the line of an adjacent stall behind the large frame of a laborer to obscure himself.

Despite a life of thievery Milo was surprisingly poor at it, relying far more on a hasty escape than a pure subtlety. Getting your hands on the goods was easy, doing so without a hit knowing was the difficult part, and in this instance his eagerness undermined stealth as sandy-haired head poked out from around the laborer's arm, blatantly staring at the distracted Nemoidian.

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

Zira, of course, could spot a potential pickpocket from a mile away. She had been around scum in Hutt space enough to tell when someone was about to make a move. By that comparison, this guy was an obvious amateur. Gulpo may have been her master, but her role wasn’t exactly bodyguard. She stood there with her arms crossed, watching with mild interest as the human fashioned him a super secret ninja.

Sandy chose to hide behind a massive besalisk that looked like he was ready to bash someone’s face in. Gulpo was oblivious to everything, still haggling and arguing with the merchant. He raised his fist to angrily shake it, giving Sandy the perfect window to yoink an ornate locket right off his belt. Zira even stepped aside to let Sandy bolt away if needed.

Gulpo finally glanced down and gasped, “MY LOCKET! I’VE BEEN ROBBED!” He shrieked, first turning to glare at the besalisk behind him.

The besalisk crunched his four fists as if daring Gulpo to accuse him of theft. Gulpo decided against that and instead turned on Zira to backhand her across the face to take out his frustration. The blow sent her to the ground, blood seeping from her lip, “Stupid girl! Why didn’t you stop the thief! You saw it!”

Gulpo shouted loudly, “LOCK DOWN THE STREETS! WE WILL CATCH THIS THIEF! A THOUSAND CREDITS TO WHO BRINGS MY LOCKET BACK!”

If Sandy inspected said locket, he would open it to find a mortifying picture of Gulpo’s deranged mother with a toothy smile that could turn anyone to stone. It would spark a lot of questions, none of which Sandy probably wanted answered. For now he had to grapple with making a getaway with citizens all clamoring to find the culprit that stole the locket.

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

Gulpo's distraction, and the inviting sidestep from Zira was far to tantalizing to not take advantage of. With a quick, dive the vagabond wrapped his hands around the locket and tugged before bolting between the slave and her master, offering a thankful glance over his shoulder before turning his attention to the crowd, slipping in between a conversing zabrak and their duros companion. While finesse wasn't his greatest attribute, the use of crowds was, yet he had not been fully ingratiated among them when Gulpo began to shout.

The snap of his hand against the Zygerrian's face drew his attention, watching as the slave fell to the ground. A spark of guild appeared, joining the silent bonfire in his gut that was rooted in a life of addiction and petty crime, never having grown quite desensitized. Were it any other day, any other time, and with a hand not bearing said stolen piece of jewelry, he might have thrown his weight against the pompous bastard, but Milo was no small-time hero. He just read about them on his datapad, and in truth was rather craven.

His fingers took a moment to click open the locket, his nature as a curious man getting the better of him. What sort of thing would a sentient such as Gulpo be tender towards? There was few levels that Milo wouldn't stoop to when it came to theft, though stealing items of sentimental value was likely the lowest he had ever gone. Luckily, for his conscience, the Nemoidian's mother could curdle milk and Gulpo himself likely hadn't fallen too far from the tree, wearing that ugliness with his temperament more so than his appearance.

Yet, as with all things, he had no time to dwell on it. The nemoidian's turn the very crowd he began to escape with his very trap with the informal bounty. The vagabond thief dropped suddenly, not sensing the enclosing arms behind him but expecting them before diving out the crowd back the very way he entered it, only a few feet away, scrambling to his feet in an attempt to flee between two of the stalls before any of its customers, or the crowd behind him, could react. Yet malnourishment and age tended to sapped at much of his capacity. Less weight to carry, yet also less muscle to use.

"Oh kriff..." That was always the problem with picking pockets of the wealthy, they always had cash to spare.

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

The fact that Sandy was the only one actively running away while everyone else was greedily looking around to spot a thief was a dead giveaway.

“THERE!” Someone shouted pointing at the scrawny man bolting. Before long, the besalisk from before caught up and attempted to bodyslam him. If the attempt worked, Sandy would be suffocating under multiple rolls of fat and body odor. A fitting outcome for such a sniveling thief!

Meanwhile, Gulpo hiked up his expensive robes like a dress and ran as fast as his dainty feet carried him towards the commotion. Only Zira knew that he had no intention of actually paying anyone, so she would see how this played out. She didn’t feel any particular anger for what Gulpo did to her - she was used to such treatment. If anything, she was annoyed that the little bruise would make her less appealing for the performance tonight.

“Why are you running, little man?” The Besalisk asked Sandy, leaning in close so the human had the rancid breath right in his face. One arm held Sandy while the other was ready to punch his face into a pulp. And the besalisk still had two arms to spare for additional torment, “Turn out your pockets and let’s see. What’s got you in such a hurry?” The alien guffawed, already picturing his thousand credits.

Zira almost pitied the idiot that pickpocketed Gulpo. He was going to be gutted here and no one would bat an eye. She almost wished he could have accidentally nabbed the device that controlled her collar instead. At least that would have given her an excuse to run away. Gulpo purposely kept it deep in his robe pockets near the crotch area where he didn’t believe anyone would reach. And he was right.

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

Right as he was about to cross the threshold between the two stalls a number of arms snaked around. The world spun for a moment until he was driven into the duracrete with such force that his breath left him. Another theft gone bad, in a long string of them, but he knew that the result of his one would be far worse if he didn't get away.

It took more than a few seconds for the disoriented vagrant to come to terms with the fist in his face, though his body was far more worried about his lack of air. After multiple attempts at sucking in air he is rewarded by a swift punch to the side for his sluggishness. Under it's weight he could hardly breathe.

Luckily, in his racing panic and curiosity, Milo had not stowed the locket in his pocket but had rather clutched it his other hand so tightly that he could feel its shape bite into the palm of his flesh. No amount of credits was worth losing life and limb and the second rule of being a successful thief was know when to give in. Similarly, there was no guarantee that anything he did would ensure his freedom either, and with three arms the thief knew the Besalisk would have a surprising amount of nimbleness.

Rather than hint at his intentions, Milo's head lolled towards the arm that was held while the other began to slowly curl before suddenly unravelling as he threw the locket as far as he could into the semi-moving crowd, hoping that luck was on his side and it wouldn't bounce off of some passerby. "Go get it," he wheezed, darkness clouding his vision as adrenaline tried to counteract both pain and breathlessness.

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

There was a brief moment of confusion as the besalisk wondered if the reward was for bringing the thief or for bringing the locket. For good measure, he used two of his fists to punch the daylights out of the human before dropping him like a sack of potatoes. The besalisk ran through the crowds like a bowling ball through pins, throwing aside anyone in his way to get to the locket.

If Sandy looked, he would find a crumbled up piece of paper left behind that fell out of the locket. It was the address to the bougie gala that was taking place later that evening. Gulpo was technology illiterate and scribbled down notes as reminders. With the locket being a bust, Sandy had a second option to rob someone at this gala if he pleased.

The crowds went crazy over the tossed locket, everyone fighting one another and getting into a brawl. Zira chewed on the inside of her lip as she watched her master screeching and fully distracted. It would be so easy to just reach and nab that device that controlled her collar. If she had the slightest bit of a spine she could do it. Her hand began to reach, but the fingers curled and withdrew back in the end.

Zira sighed in disappointment at herself. Perhaps one day she would muster up that courage, but it was not this day. She tasted that bitter copper of her blood in her mouth, a permanent reminder of her place. At one point, Gulpo toppled over and fell, screaming at the top of his lungs at the commotion. His robes flipped over to reveal what looked suspiciously like baggy granny panties. He looked absolutely deranged as the crowds fought one another to nab that locket.

The Zygerrian stepped back and into a discreet alley, giving herself some breathing space to catch a break from the chaos. Her master would yell at her for this later, but she couldn’t stand the crowds anymore.

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

Two swift cracks to the face left the thief as still as duracrete cinderblock. Starbursts flickered in fluttering eyes, but at least he could breath. Without any thoughts tumbling in his head he lay there for an extended moment seemingly unable to gather his wits. With a sudden groan the sandy haired man lifted his head up, blinking eyes sluggishly focusing on the scene around him. Where once there was some semblance of order there was now a mad dash to retrieve the discarded locket and- And they had completely forgotten about him.

Every part of him cried out in pain, that besalisk had hands made of pure iron, and if anyone turned around from the scramble he would be incapable of running. Luckily the promise of payment was distracting enough for him to push himself off the ground and slip away. As he reached a hand out to stabilize himself, it brushed over something, crumpling it further in the process. A piece of paper, and despite being crushed it was both new and too small to be any sort of poster.

Clamping his hand around it he slowly stood, checked his balance, before hobbling into the nearest alley. Milo's expression danced between a scowl, pain, and a sliver of humor as he caught the mortifying sight of the Neimoidian's bloomers. "Kriff he deserved it," he laughed, before suddenly clutching his stomach, whose pain was only enhanced by its need to be filled.

It was by chance that it was the same alley as the Zygerrian attendant, yet in his pain addled state he hardly noticed the woman as he slumped against the wall. It was only once he was out of immediate sight that he slumped down against a greasy wall to catch his breath. His mop of filth curled hair resting upon a layer of filth. He still wasn't all there, though the adrenaline had began to leave his system, leaving him with a befuddled and neanderthalic expression. As he surveyed the alleyway it was impossible for his eyes to not float to the woman, all dressed up yet collared.

A hand rummaged around in his pocket, searching for something, as he weakly spoke to her in the cracked voice of a man familiar with hard alcohol and other damaging luxuries. "Your boss is a real piece of work, but I suppose everyone with more credits than sense are." The hand which held the paper patted a spot upon his lip, mirror the location where Gulpo's slap had left a mark. If she did there was no way he could escape retribution, and he expected that the Nemoidian's wrath would be far less kind than that of the security. "You're not gonna tell are you, eh?" It wasn't a threat, more of a pitiable request.

The man was pathetic, even before being throttled by the brute. He smelled of neglect, was covered in bruises which melded seamlessly with dust, oil, and dirt, and wore clothes that marked him as the poorest of the poor. There weren't even patches, just open holes, had the jacket even been washed?

Drawing out that piece of paper he unraveled it with his thumb to regard it with a clearer mind and a confused look, as if he couldn't comprehend the numbers and words on it.

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

Zira watched as the thief from earlier stumbled into the same alley. Terrific - another way for him to get her in even more trouble. She almost considered stepping right back into the chaos, but one look revealed that Gulpo was now arguing with the besalisk from earlier. There was still a tremendous amount of commotion over the locket and who had it.

Her ears swiveled when the wretch actually spoke to her. Zira had to remember she was not in Hutt space - slavery wasn’t common here and people actually addressed her now and then. Zira was so startled that she didn’t speak for a moment, vacantly staring at him. When he touched his lip where her own had been struck, she was perplexed. Boss? Did he think she was an employee? The thought almost drew a smile to her lips.

“What’s there to tell? You’ve told loudly enough,” She muttered with a thick accent, surprising herself with her words. She almost went to apologize for her snide remark - a comment that would have gotten her backhanded across the face. But something told her this guy was in hardly a better state than she was.

Zira recognized the piece of paper he held in his hand with the information about the gala. She wasn’t ever taught to read so she would be no help there, but she did know what it said, “It’s for the charity ball at the Redmond Manor tonight. You know, a posh event to raise money for the poor,” Zira said with amusement glinting in her eye. It was all a farce and an excuse for the disgustingly wealthy to schmooze and rub elbows.

The Zygerrian peeked again and found Gulpo now arguing with a Rodian that looked like he was going to resort to fisticuffs. Zira turned back to regard the sorry excuse of a human across her. Without warning, there was a glint of gold as she casually tossed him the locket from earlier, revealing that she swiped it before anyone else could. Discreetly.

“Take it, fuck off, and count your blessings,” Zira suggested before she leaned against the alley wall and waited for her Master to give up and move on.

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

A wince escaped at her harsh comment, but it wasn't as though he could move given the punishment he had suffered. Like everything else all he could do was grit his teeth and bear it, he shouldn't expect friendliness from anyone, let alone the one who suffered a blow due to his need. He wouldn't apologize, however, Milo needed the credits and neither was he going to explain why.

A charity for the poor did catch his attention, even if he hardly even knew where the address was. "I'm poor," he muttered, idly wondering yet knowing the truth that no money from such an event would ever pass between his fingers, even more sure of that answer by the derision in her eye. Before he could speak up however the auric shine of the locket caught his attention, and despite possessing some ability to catch it he merely let it connect with his chest and fall between his legs.

Dumbly, Milo stared at it with wide and confused eyes. "How- How did you get this?" He had thrown it into the crowd, or so he had thought, and couldn't recall seeing her amidst it though he could hardly remember anything of the scene beyond the throbbing pain which still pulsed with each heartbeat. His face was pleasantly warm, as though he had consumed liquor.

Rather than scramble away like the urchin he was whenever presented with a gift, he instead stuffed it and the paper away inside of his jacket and scraped his fingers against the wall in his attempt to stand. The vagabond's tone lowered and cracked both pitifully, but by no means touching. "Why?"

His attention was divided between the Zygerrian and what he could see of the scene beyond, rotating just further out of sight on hobbling legs. Involuntarily, a hand lifted to scratch an annoying itch beneath the sleeve of his jacket. A tick of some sort. "Twice now you've helped me steal from him," there was hardly a doubt that she had made room enough for him to dash away even if such did prove to be his undoing.

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

Zira rolled her eyes as the man complained about being poor. She didn’t bother enlightening him on her life just yet because she had no desire to turn it into a pity party. The Zygerrian enjoyed the brief reprieve she had from her Master being preoccupied. A quick glance suggested that someone was in the middle of making a very convincing argument that their imitation gold locket was the one that Gulpo lost. The Neimodian may have been wealthy, but when it came to sentimental objects he could be incredibly gullible.

She only smirked when Sandy asked how she nabbed the locket. In truth, being a slave taught one to be resourceful and discreet when needed. Her entire existence circled around discretion or sometimes even stealing things on behalf of her masters when she had a target in a compromising position. None of these were details she felt like sharing, so the question went ignored for now.

“I can’t take the locket to benefit myself, so may as well give it to someone that can pawn it,” Zira said with a shrug, casting a glance his way, “Not like my slaver will reward me for finding it,” She said, at last revealing what she was to Gulpo. Perhaps a second glance at her neck would make him realize that it was a collar, not a necklace.

“You ought to stick to a day job,” Zira said, amusement glinting in her eye, “Thievery is not your forte.”

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

Milo stared at Zira blankly, his eyes losing their focus for a second as they glanced between her and the collar. Her guess was correct, he may have understood the concept of slavery but had never actually encountered one. He had lived the oddly sheltered life that one could only find within the core. His tiny corner of the galaxy was just a fraction brighter than the much of the rest of it. "Oh."

For a fraction of a second he forgot about their semi-strained situation, with Gulpo just around the corner haggling with an opportunist, and possessed an odd sort of ignorant empathy. The Zygerrian was clean, dressed far more luxuriantly, and for better or worse passed through a far grander social circle than he did. But the vagabond was also, relatively, free. His struggles were societal, limited by opportunity and lack of equity, not slave collars and chains. There were millions like him, spread out across every polity, living proof that advancement did not lead to change. Or so he thought, there wasn't much of a difference between a man crushed under the weight of social order and another one collared by it. His lash wasn't a whip but security or ganger thugs.

Luckily, he had the intelligence to not ask dull questions with obvious answers concerning simply fleeing, instead catching her look and flashing one in return with a sharp smile and an acknowledging nod of agreement. "Tried that, they tend to hire the... Clean and educated around here, they're also not paying what I need. So..." He tilted his head to the unseen pocket he had hidden the locket in, sentence trailing for a moment before starting anew. "This will cover a decent amount of what I need." Unless he didn't get ripped off by some pawn broker it would likely afford him a cheap ticket to some backwater midrim planet with enough left over for water and tasteless nutrition bars, if it was real gold and he didn't waste it all on stims between now and then.

A few more credits wouldn't be amiss, he thought, continuing to itch his forearm.

"As a one man show I'm all I've got, though I'm all ears if you've got a better idea," he shot back conversationally, yet quietly. Knowing that there wouldn't wasn't time to bandy words before her master came calling. Milo shifted further against the wall, ready to slip around the nearest corner should the need arise. Not moving, however, was far easier. Thankfully, nothing was apparently broken, the vagabond would just suffer a few days of soreness and purple bruises though such punishment was the expectation not the exception given his capability, or lack thereof.

"If there's going to be a whole party of drydak's like him they've gotta leave something out in the open. Got any extra pity behind those eyes?" There was some irony in an addict asking a slave for sympathy, but then Zira had given him the locket though he suspected that was due to petty vengeance than pity on her part. The Zygerrian likely knew more than enough for him to press his luck somewhere given the circles he imagined Gulpo existed in. Who said he had to follow his second rule all the time?

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

“Appearances are everything,” Zira said simply, “Until I mentioned it, you probably thought I was some high class escort with all the freedom in the world,” She said with a smirk. Sandy was still looking for handouts and it was a little pathetic, but perhaps she could twist it to her own benefit.

“If you’re willing to rough someone up, you have a way in,” She said, “One of the workers is supposed to serve wine at the party,” Zira explained, “His name is Bard Daviri. Knock him out and steal his clothes to get into the party and you have access to an entire hall of wealth to plunder,” She said with a grin, “And if you’re feeling charitable, perhaps you can mix some sleeping pills into a drink you serve Gulpo so I may steal something off him that prevents him from making my head explode,” She said as she pointed to her collar.

After all, if she was opening so many doors for him, she could only hope - but not expect - that he would pay it back somehow. Zira glanced over her shoulder and motioned for him to run since Gulpo was walking over. Sandy would need to be resourceful enough to get himself into the party, but if everything worked out perhaps they could both make their way off the planet.

—

The party in question was taking place in the wealthiest district of the planet. It was in a massive manor with a strict guest list. Everyone was dressed to the nines and Zira was dressed as a performer. Gulpo was satisfied with the locket he received that looked just like his own. She wasn’t looking forward to being on the receiving end of his wrath when he discovered otherwise.

Zira looked around the hall for that thief from earlier, even though she knew it was a long shot. So far, Bard hadn’t made an appearance either so she kept a tiny sliver of hope. The man could have run off with just the locket, of course, but that glint in his eye told her he wanted to score an even bigger game. And there was no bigger prize than so much wealth all in one room.

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

Zira had pinned him correctly, not that it was all too difficult. Milo was as easy to read as a container of blue milk, and about as appealing as its content after a week in the sun. He was pathetic and appearance wasn't his forte, actually very little was beyond fiddling with and repairing small gadgets and the ability to summon pointless historical facts on short notice. But little else could be expected from him, it was a miracle that he could read at all, but somehow he had been educated.

Her offer was an intriguing one, and to a degree grated on his moral code as could be seen by his slight wincing at the idea of 'roughing' someone who didn't deserve it up, or it was the way he held his sore stomach. The idea of having a gala full of some of the galaxy's richest to steal from was appealing. What if instead of leaving Empress Teta with a ticket he did so with a ship? More of an imagination than a reality, he would need more than lockets and baubles to afford one of those, and neither could he fly it.

Taking out Gulpo, however, only earned a slight nod. If anything would get him caught it would be a patron falling over mid conversation, in a room full of so many people and security... "I don't-" Before he could respond however, the Zygerrian shooed him off and without a second question he bolted around the corner and disappeared, leaving no indication as to his plans.

Despite the way he hobbled, gradually growing both used to the pain and beginning to recover, Milo pawned the locket rather quickly. If it wasn't for his haste the vagrant could have gotten the needed amount to say goodbye to Empress Teta forever, instead he took the first offer from a broker who assumed him to be merely just another junkie. Which he was, but now he was a junkie with a plan and that could be a dangerous thing.

—​

Amidst the crowd strode a completely different man, at least in appearance. Having arrived late due to his preparations and circumstances he was only just then getting booted into the main hall with a tray of champagnes and other drinks for the biologically restricted. His unkept beard was trimmed and his hair pulled back into a formal tail which, while not the most appealing thing to look at, hid the damage his strands had suffered from neglect. His visage bore a slight discoloration from applied makeup, hardly noticeable if one wasn't looking closely. The sleek black vest and white shirt were a touch too large for his scrawny appearance but the manager seemed to be more worried about his lack of manpower than seeing through the vagabond's disguise.

He had spent every single credit earned for this, knowing it was a foolish endeavor likely to get him thrown back in prison. But the promise of more than just getting by was appealing enough to buck his second rule of thievery and go all in. What would be another six months behind an energy field should he fail? Only a fourth of the money went into his appearance however, having spent the rest on acquiring a taser for Bard, some cosmetics to handle the growing bruises on his face, something for the Neimodian, and the lion's share on a stim. Stim-junkies come prepared after all, but this time it was the good stuff. A low quality combat stimulant lifted off some mercenary a few weeks ago, or so he was told. Hardly knew what it did beyond that it would allow him to push himself further, especially when it came to running away, and after the beating he took earlier he could use a bit of a pick-me-up.

Awe was the immediate emotion that took him, oblivious to the attention his gaping caused drew with a couple of the patrons scowling or laughing. With a blush of embarrassment he disappeared into the crowds. They might be a different sort of crowd but he navigated through them expertly, bobbing and weaving, offering glasses to those who were without or might need a replacement, and avoided collisions as though he were born to do this one thing. All the while, his eyes scanned the crowd constantly though for reasons other than service. He was searching for someone, two someones, all the while keeping a mental chart of which color dress or suit wore what jewelry or flashed which expensive accessories. It was almost too nauseating to keep track of.

Milo heard Gulpo before he saw him, and as his eyes gravitated over to the Slaver he met Zira's, offering a faint nod before going about the business of leisurely steering his way towards the slave as naturally as any server might. Effortlessly, the addict acted as a lesser being surrounded by his betters for in truth it was no act at all. "See? This isn't so bad, you do this all the time. Just not with so many, and dimmer lights, and way less guards..." He mouthed to himself, as if trying to convince his feet to take him away, but it was far too late for that as he drew near.

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

Zira actually did a double take when she saw ‘Bard’ finally make an appearance. He actually showed up! It took guts to maneuver into this position and the vagrant had done it flawlessly. Zira was impressed, a faint smile touching her lips when their eyes met. She wasn’t exactly permitted to speak to others but she thought of a new plan.

“Master, may I bring you a drink?”

“Ugh, I despise when you speak,” He grumbled, “But yes, go fetch me one,” He said dismissively, shooing her away as he went back to brownnosing some Corporate Sector Big shot.

Zira slinked away and approached Sandy, offering a smile, “You clean up quite nice,” She said, glancing over her shoulder. Her Master wouldn’t want her socializing, but he appeared distracted, “If you did bring something for Gulpo…apply it when I go up to perform. Everyone will be distracted. There is a device in his pocket that controls my collar,” Zira explained, “If you snatch it from him, I will get you the key to the upper levels,” It was where all the vaults and chests of the party host were. From what she understood, the host was a fat twi’lek male that would love to get his hands on someone like Zira. She wasn’t afraid to do a bit of seducing to score that key for Sandy.

“Talk later,” She whispered before slinking away with an untampered drink. Sandy had no chance for dialogue, not when Gulpo was bound to watch.

Before long, it was her turn to perform for the crowd. Zira stepped onto stage, adorned in very flattering dancing attire. The music began and so did her performance. She swayed her hips, her entire body moving with hypnotic grace to the song as she performed an exotic number for the party. Sure enough, everyone was hooked and entirely focused. Gulpo was seated off in a corner, barely watching. If Sandy were to give him a drink, no one would notice the Neimodian passing out in a dark room with everyone focused on the dance.

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

One might think that cleaned up and covered in new threads it might push away that feeling of being a homeless addict, instead the room only amplified it and while he could navigate around it and its crowds with ease, he felt even more out of place next to Zira. A slave. He offered a friendly smile in return but it was strained, anxious, his movement sharp in offering the drink which she took.

His nods were a touch too enthusiastic, as a servant he was supposed to be out of sight and mind except when providing a service, and that guise broke. That enthusiasm was not borne of greed but rather stress, he should not be here and whatever he did next was liable to get him thrown into jail for a lot longer than just a few months. "What if-" He began but Zira was gone, leaving him to stand awkwardly with a plate of drinks tilted at such a degree that the tall glasses nearly lost balance. Shaking his head, Milo came to his senses and returned to his work glancing ever after both Zira and Gulpo, the nervous ticks of a stim addict appearing in the licking of his lower lip and the twitching of his his fingers upon his right arm. He really needed to scratch his forearm.

No key was mentioned before this moment, and this 'plan' of their had suddenly grown in proportions. Instead of stealing trinkets and baubles they would be taking so much more, his mind swam with possibilities, yet was tempered by a paranoid concern for what sort of security measures lied on the floors above. "Kriff, I should have brought more than a damn stunner." Even if he had procured a blaster, however, it wasn't as though he had any skill with it nor a will to take a life. Not that it mattered in the moment.

When the music shifted and the Zygerrian took the stage he knew it would be time to begin, not before stealing a glance at the woman. There had been no confirmation that he would do as she asked, but then he had shown up and taken out Bard. With another subtle nod Milo disappeared from sight. With the crowd distracted the vagrant drew out a small container which he clicked open and poured into one of the glasses. Two fast-reacting tablets plopped inside before causing the liquid to fizz, clouding the red.

As it began to dissolve he made his way over to the Neimodian, though just as he approached a second figure appeared from seemingly nowhere. A pale figure with white hair though impossible to tell if they were merely a human or one of the plethora of near-humans with similar features, and before Milo could react he had plucked the drugged wine in his hands to sit down next to the Neimodian. "Gulpo, Gulpo! Is that one yours? You didn't tell me that you would be bringing such... Talent." There was a certain implication in his tone, and a slime which Milo was all too familiar with in the lower dregs.

The near-human snapped his fingers. "Were you not going to serve my associate? Chop chop," he called. Like a Alderaanian deer caught in the lights of a speeder, Milo froze. He had more of the narcotic, intended for personal use, but two patrons falling asleep would raise too much suspicion. Swallowing down his throat's dryness the addict summoned courage he didn't know he had.

Hastily, his eyes scanned the crowd before finding a figure convincing enough, a rather elaborately dressed sullustan who was of no doubt a highly placed member of the Trade Guilds. "That was actually his drink, sir, from them-" He pointed the sullustan out as though he were merely following orders. "She would not be too pleased that her specially imported wine was received by the wrong guest."

The man lifted his clawed, three fingered, hand, inspecting the glass with discerning eyes. Milo's expression began to falter as he realized the man was Arkanian, a people he knew very little of but knew to be both severe and observant. Yet before anything could come of it the Neimodian swiped it from his claws. "Give me that," he half-barked before greedily tasting it, it was of course no different beyond being spiked but the Neimodian savored it as though it were a fine treasure.

Setting the second and last glass down for the Arkanian, bowing his head in servitude, the addict avoided eye contact. Yet rather than slip away he turned towards the distracting performance and folded the plate under his arm, slipping around the Neimodian as he acted like an awed and enchanted servant, waiting for the drug to take effect. He could feel the Arkanian glare at the back of his head, and his hands grew clammy.

The narcotic was strong, and Milo had felt its effects before for it had been necessary during his worst days before a relapse, but it wasn't immediate. He would pass out near the end of her performance, yet with Gulpo's unforseen company he would need something spectacular to keep the Arkanian truly occupied. With worry etched on his face he stared at Zira, hoping that she caught the implication with his wide, saucer-like eyes. "Oh fuck..."

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

Zira caught Sandy’s gaze, of course, and knew right away there was trouble. However, she wasn’t the type to panic too easily. Even on stage, she could make out the Arkanian standing behind Sandy and starting to look suspiciously towards Gulpo. Zira adjusted during her performance, giving a happy little “woo!” as she did a few improvised acrobatics on stage. The cheers and clapping got the Arkanian’s attention, the man suddenly walking a few steps closer to see better. Zira purposely laid down on the stage for some sensual moves to really keep everyone’s attention.

With Gulpo now fully out cold, Sandy had free reign to do whatever he needed.

The performance ended with thunderous applause and Zira stepped off the stage to allow the next performers to prepare. She disappeared backstage for a moment - just long enough for the Arkanian to forget about her and focus on the new dancers.

Zira emerged a while later, finding Sandy once more and a passed out Gulpo. Her eyes widened as she inspected the Neimodian, shocked that the vagrant actually pulled this off, “Do you have it?” She asked Sandy urgently, completely in disbelief. If he did, in fact, produce the device, Zira would sigh in relief, “Thank you…Master,” She said with her head bowed slightly.

She glanced towards the grotesque twi’lek host standing across the hall, “If it is credits you are after, you may sell me to him,” Zira said, “After my performance, I now command a very high price.”

Perhaps it would shock Sandy to learn that Zira couldn’t comprehend ever not being a slave. Her entire ploy had simply been to transfer hands. She glanced back at Sandy, “Or perhaps you may wish to keep me. In which case, let me know how I may serve you.”

@Cartoonkarl

 

[Milo Corr]

Relief filtered across Milo's face as the Arkanian stood to follow the more leisurely performance, which caused the man to jerk slightly, but he was in the clear. It wasn't long after that the drug took effect and as Milo noticed that the Neimodian began to slump he was quick to guide the held glass onto the table. He rummaged around both pockets to find the device, he didn't no what to do so remained relatively nearby for the set to finish, only heading to the kitchen to stash his tray.

He teetered upon his feet impatiently before the Tiefling finally appeared. With an impossibly wide grin he drew out the remote, after glancing around to see if anyone was watching. "Of course I have it, think I couldn't pull it off?" A man of his history and skill likely couldn't, but greed allowed one to do amazing things.

The sudden shift in tone, however, caught him off guard. "Master- the fuck?" He followed her eyes to the host with a furrowed brow and a confused look. When Zira's eyes returned to him he continued to stare off with unfocused eyes. "What? I thought it was just a simple exchange. I got a key, you lost the collar. We rob them blind." Suddenly he spurred into action, attempting to create distance between them and Gulpo. At any moment someone could come over and attempt to wake the Nemoidian in an attempt to acquire Zira, and that was unneeded pressure.

Anxiety appeared in the form of stiff steps and a straightened spine, head craning about as though at any moment the game was up. All that composure he had built earlier as he danced through the crowds was gone. Now it was back to the jittery old addict who needed the hit that sat in his back pocket. "No way am I keeping you, and neither would I hand you off to some other slimeball." The mere thought of doing either made his stomach churn, that disgust visible on his face as Milo turned a shade green.

Digging out the device once more, now away from the bulk of the party and using his body to hide it from sight, he spoke up while inspecting the buttons for the 'release' function. "Do you want the collar off or not, there's a door in the kitchen we can slip out of. Then you can go do whatever, the Core Worlds are safer. These posh bastards might trade lives but the rest of us aren't that sort of people." Not exactly a true statement, for even in the deeper parts of Empress Teta there were similar shady operations, but few of them were ever connected to the intergalactic slave trade, at least as far as he was aware.

@Sreeya

 

[Zira Suvan]

Lose the collar? What? She stared at him wide eyed, following him almost on autopilot as he scurried away. She was used to obediently following her Master, and he would notice she did just that wherever he went. Zira almost looked offended when he quickly blurted there was no way he was keeping her. Why? She was an asset! His next comment perplexed her even more.

“Of course you’re not giving me away, you are selling me,” She hissed, “Who cares about a key when you can sell me for several thousand credits!” Zira couldn’t believe she was having to explain this, “Do you want the credits or not?!” She quipped back just as he asked about the collar. When he explained she could ‘go do whatever’, she stared at him as if he grew three heads.

“Go do…what? No, the collar stays,” She said flatly, “I need a Master. I know nothing else,” Zira said, “If you can’t keep me, you must sell me,” She scowled at him. She picked up on his little twitches and nervous ticks, “You are a hot mess, you know that? Get it together…Master,” Zira added. He was very much not her normal Master type and she had to remember her usual niceties and obedient behavior.

Unfortunately, their little squabble cost them precious time. In the other room, Gulpo was coming back to consciousness and asking many questions. Sandy had a critical last choice to make - escape this place as a Master with a new slave or somehow manage to sell her to the host without Gulpo foiling everything.

@Cartoonkarl