Night at the Blue Orchid

[Allu'rah Danan]

Every now and then, a girl just wants to get all prettied up. Even if she's a bounty hunter just returned from the hunt, exhausted and even a little battered. Chitsah just wanted to put on a nice dress and go dancing. Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't also show a little skin. Her black dress had a halter neck and no back to speak of. In fact, even the sides were cut away, leaving only a sparse covering over her front while baring her ribs and the tops of her elegant hips. The skirt was more elegant, an asymmetric design fabricated from flowing silk and organza that was cut above the knee on one leg and gracefully draped close to her ankle on the other side. She didn't bother with a necklace. The last thing she needed was the straps of this dress to get tangled in with a chain and chafe at the back of her neck and lekku all evening. Instead, she closed a handsomely crafted armband around her upper right arm, and slipped a half dozen slender bangles onto each wrist. People seemed to eat up this exotic crap, especially on alien women like herself. It was probably because of the traditional akul tooth headdress, and the warpaint-like white markings that were merely a part of her natural pigmentation. And hey, she could scarcely deny that she was a fan of this fashion.

A short while later, she found herself skipping past the line-ups into the Blue Orchid. This nightclub was much nicer and a lot cleaner than most others on Nar Shaddaa. Everyone here was well-dressed and groomed. It was a nightclub where the elite could party without all the common riffraff stinking up the place. And this moon's elite were basically all rich crime lords, pirate kings, and smuggling princes. Kingpins from all over the planet vied and jockeyed for attention here. While they generally had strict rules about who could come in, they rarely took issue with allowing pretty girls enter early in the evening. It helped bolster interest and business, and provided these criminals with incentive to leave the safety of their own domains. Security was tight, of course. No weapons of any kind, no outside substances. The last thing they wanted was to clean up a body at the end of the night.

One shapely red leg stepped in front of the other as the Togruta headed for the dance floor. She gave the illusion of towering over quite a few of the other patrons, what with her own above-average weight at 5'8", but then adding four inches to that with her shoes, and another few inches above that to account for her montrals. But that had rarely discouraged dance partners in the past. The way her slender figure swayed and weaved, like a serpent charmed by a song, often proved far too tantalizing. Chitsah wondered if she'd meet anyone interesting tonight.

 

[Ender]

Sitting at the bar was a smuggler and sometimes archaeologist, Ex Imperial Knight Guardsman, Ex Mandalorian and currently distraught human. A shot glass filled with Corellian Firewhiskey sat in front of him, and his calloused finger traced it's rim. Condensation dripped down the side, and the deep bass of the music reverberated in his stomach, causing an occasional water droplet to streak to the bottom.

Chances were, she was dead.

But what kind of thoughts are those? Elliot thought to himself. She was Akira, she was a fighter. A togrutan huntress, she would survive. Elliot was sure of it...right? And where had Danielle gone? His sister had vanished, and had left thousands of Mandalorians screaming for vengeance, gratu'a, and cursing the Marren name.

Shaking his head, Elliot knocked the shot back. As he did so, the purple light of the nightclub shone on his tan skin. The dark marks of his tattoos blending in with the dark of the club. He wore a tight red shirt, and cargo pants. His side arm was noticeably gone, as well as several other things. The smuggler stood, and took a moment to keep his balance as he scanned the night club. A flash of red skin, headtails. Was that-? No, it couldn't be. Still, Elliot took the bait. He approached the woman, navigating through the crowd as he had his whole life.

 

[Apollyon]

Al'akaan A'den Fett sat in a darkened corner of the Blue Orchid, he was mulling over a pint of pure liquor. The Mandalorian had taken to the toxic liquid as he evaluated his life, the more he evaluated, the more he drank it had truly become a vicious circle. He swirled the amber liquid in the tankard, watching bits of the liquid splash out and onto the floor, his eyes scanned the bar for unseen threats. He saw nothing worth noticing, A'den stood up without paying and made his way to leave.

"HEY! That costs 200 creds, pay up!" The Barkeep called out.

You can take your creds and shove em right up your ass! A'den managed to drunkenly stammer out as he pointed one finger at the barkeep before collapsing on the ground giggling...he was completely intoxicated.

 

[Allu'rah Danan]

As Chitsah turned on the dance floor, her hips swaying to the pulsing rhythm of the music, she could see an agitated young human making his way towards her, an uncertain familiarity registering in his face. However, she was certain she had never seen the man before in her life. She studied him as he approached, noticing in particular a bracelet of akul teeth wrapped around his wrist. How interesting. Now where did he get those? she pondered. "Is there something I can help you with, honey?" she asked, her voice as gentle and silken as it could be over the blaring sound system. However, he already seemed crestfallen. Probably not the Togruta he had been hoping for.

Another broad, sturdily built human nearly bowled her over as he shouted at the barkeep before collapsing at her feet. The bouncers were coming to drag the sorry mess of a man out, but as he rolled over, Chitsah recognized him in an instant. "Hold off, Joals! I'll cover his bill. Just call your boys off." The Iridonian looked skeptical, but with a nod, the Aqualish bouncers backed off. Chitsah was enough of a regular in this club, and Joals knew her and especially her foster-father enough to not interfere with her call. The bounty hunter could scarcely believe her luck. Her mark had practically just fallen into her lap, completely unarmed, totally intoxicated, and by all appearances, alone.

Chitsah bent down and grabbed one of his arms, slinging it around her shoulders as she attempted to haul him to his feet. "Easy there, big boy. Watch your step," she purred in a soothing voice. Her muscles were coiled and tense as she moved to help him, ready for him to be hostile. Their last parting was... less than friendly. But she had yet to start drinking, and A'den couldn't even stand. She had to wonder what in the galaxy had brought the Fett clan leader to her club on Nar Shaddaa. The only thing she could draw was that he had been hunting her. But then, why drink himself stupid this way? It felt either like the galaxy's most unlikely coincidence, or a trap.

 

[Ender]

Elliot bent down, assisting in helping A'den to his feet. "A'den Fett? Fett Clan Leader?" the smuggler asked the large Mandalorian, beginning to guide them to the nearest empty seat. The crowd parted for them, as Elliot scowled at the man.

"You follow Corden Vencu, then." Elliot shook his head, angrily. "Danielle Marren hasn't shone up yet, has she?" he asked, his head abuzz. Perhaps he had seen. Maybe she was alive...no. If he had seen her, chances were that she was dead. Elliot shook his head sadly. He just wanted an answer.

 

[Apollyon]

At the mention of Manda'lor the Coward's name, Danielle Marren, A'den dropped his drunken facade. His hand was a blur as he grasped the young man's throat, his grip tightened, his knuckles popped as he gripped the poor boys throat, completely cutting off his flow of oxygen to his brain.

You mean the hut'uun who abandoned us after Fenris? The filth who fled her people? The woman who left us when we needed her the most? That BITCH is dead! Why? What was she to you? A'den asked as his grip loosened slightly, enough for the boy to speak but not escape, under his helmet his face was twisted with rage.

If there was a being in the galaxy he had hated more then the Death Watch it was Danielle Marren. If this boy sought for her, or his next words came out wrong they could very well be his last. A'den would not allow her filth to continue, if this boy believed what she did was just he would soon share her fate. A'den primed his substance thrower to pour out molten plasma from his HUD, the weapon was located on the same arm he was gripping the boy, escape would be impossible. But he would allow the boy to speak and hear what he had to say before he activated it and sealed his fate.

 

[Allu'rah Danan]

Chitsah stepped closer. She had expected him to do this to her, not to some other man. "A'den," she said sternly, her vibrant green eyes training firmly on his hardened, rage-twisted features. She did not move too quickly, she simply laid a firm hand on his arm. "A'den, you let this man go. I won't have you killing a man in my favorite club just because he asked you a question." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm asking nicely. Please. Let the man go. And loosen up if you're expecting an answer. You forget your own strength."

Chitsah was not nearly as calm as her outward demeanor was showing. She had heard the name Dani Marren before, the leader of the Mandalorians when the civil war started. She had taken the bounty on A'den for splitting with her faction and switching sides. But if she was dead... well, it was quite possible she would not be making any money off this bounty anymore. But it had escalated beyond that. A'den was the first target to slip through her fingers. Now, it was personal. Now, she had to prove she could take him down if she was to ever be taken seriously as a bounty hunter again.

 

[Apollyon]

A'den glanced over at Chitsah, then back at the boy, he grip laxed, and he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

I apologize for my actions, Danielle's actions...effected everything. What was she to you? A'den asked as he glanced over at the hunter.

You don't slip away...we have unfinished business, whither my bounty has been lifted or not. I will avenge what you did to my clan. A'den growled as he stared her down.

 

[Ender]

"Dani's....Dead?" Elliot whispered,almost inaudible in the nightclub. "She...she's dead. You're sure?" Elliot's stomach was suddenly in his mouth. "Dead?" Elliot repeated, suddenly collapsing. "I mean, she was kriffing idiot...but dead? That chakaar!" he exclaimed loudly, turning to the bartender. "More firewhiskey. Now." the bartender brought the drink, Elliot refusing to speak before he had it. Taking it, he downed quickly then continued. "Di'kut was my kriffing sister!"

 

[Apollyon]

Did you expect something else to befall her? She abandoned the mando'ad, she abandoned those that looked up to her, rest assured it was quick...she suffered little if at all. A'den said bluntly, he didn't feel bad for what he had said and if it were his choice Danielle Marren would have suffered more before death as she had done to her people. But alas, the choice wasn't his but Vencu's and he respected his choice and actions as just.

A'den removed his helmet again and poured himself a shot of whiskey, he slid it towards Chitsah instead of drinking it himself, his green eyes never leaving the boy who was Danielle's brother.

But young aruetii you are young do not fret over her fate. She alone chose the path she walked, and she knew what the consequences of her actions were. She died with her head high and her eyes filled with pride, in the end that is all that matters A'den lied, something he had grown quite proficient at since he had been the one to deal with Sith and Chiss politicians constantly. He patted the young man on the shoulder before pouring him a shot.

This burn... A'den said pointing at the shot ...will ease that one. He continued as he pointed at the boys chest and slid the glass his way.

 

[Allu'rah Danan]

Chitsah helped the young stranger to his feet and slid into a seat next to the young stranger. She gave his arm a squeeze. It was obvious he was hurting before, but now he just had the shock of his life, finding out that his sister was dead in some club from a guy choking the breath out of him. She was still fascinated by the akul teeth, but their importance seemed somewhat secondary right now. Chitsah downed the shot offered her, and shook herself from the sudden burn.

"You got a name there, lad?" she asked of the stranger. "I'm Chitsah. You already seem to be familiar with A'den here." She eyed the bouncers that were again backing off. Little spats were not uncommon among the Orchid's patrons. Luckily, they usually separated and quelled their feelings because there were few other places like this on the planet. How she was going to handle A'den, however, was still a mystery.

 

[Ender]

"My name's Elliot. Elliot Marren. Archaeologist, procurer of rare objects and pilot." he sad, quietly. "Yea, I know 'em. He's A'den Fett. Alor of Aliit Vhett. Of the grand Mandalorian clans." Elliot waved his arms around and made a "Woooo" noise. Then giggled profusely, as he downed another shot of Firewhiskey. "Wh-...wh-...Why is it that all my sisters keep gettin' killed?" he asked them both. "First, Kando gets slotted. Then, my father shoots himself over it, not that I care, bastard hated me. Now! Dani gets herself killed!" Elliot laughed, almost hysterically. "And what about you, Chistah. Who, are you." he asked.

 

[Orphen]

Slotting into the area Junior Satharial walked up to the front of the line and smiled a broad grin. He gave up his three weapons and his helmet at the door, but not a briefcase as he was let through the barricade of security. They knew who he was by a single word he whispered, though he had never set foot in this club before. Walking into the club the twenty one year old stunted at what seemed to be a young looking seventeen in stature walked into the club. His long red coat glimmered as he typed on a PDA to a contact he was delivering to. He was GA, but he still had a personal ship, and even he had days off.

Im here

Having left his sister and K-22 behind for this delivery, they got more jobs done seperated as he walked through the club, maing his way up some stairs to a varandah overlooking the dance floor where he could see a couple of very interesting individuals. Walking up to one of the bosses of the club, a guy known as 'Saban.' Standing to aside of him and his conversation with a friend surrounded by a series of lovely looking ladies. Some who junior cought the attention of. Waitinf patient;y until he was adressed. Until.

JUNIOR! Long time no see, please, come, take a seat have a drink, please, please, this is my good friend Paboro, Paboro, this is Junior! As the large fat man spoke two girls broke off to make the new guest feel welcome to the conversation. Junior ignored them for the most part but aknowledged their existance.

Saban, it's good to see you. He said and bowing as he was introduced to his friend. I have your shipment here, please, take it. I can almost feel the heat dripping from it, and I need to get going. Please, i beg your pardon and forgiveness, my account is always open to your graces. Junior bowed once again with the graces of the boss. He'd just delivered 5 kilos of Synox to the large man in liquid form, sealed in carbonite. With a sigh of relief and his leave he headed back down stairs. The remarkable young looking man moved to the bar, swiping his credit card, he ordered a firewater, looking beside him to the tortured looking man. Not interrupting their conversation, but still listening.

 

[Allu'rah Danan]

"It's Chitsah, cheet-zah," the Togruta corrected, pronouncing her name slowly for him. It was clear that this Elliot fellow intended to get trashed. He was already well on his way, judging by what she saw. "I am no one of particular consequence. A gangster of Nar Shaddaa, like most of the other people here. Its just that I have the unique benefit of being the foster daughter of this planet's best assassin." The title of 'best assassin' was one not so easily handed out. But her father was certainly among the best, and so of course she'd refer to her dad as the best one. It was the truth in her eyes. And while A'den was not one to be intimidated, perhaps that would at least give him a moment of pause before he attempted to hurt her on her planet, in her city. Because if he tried anything, her father would intervene, and he was not nearly as forgiving as the bounty hunter. She preferred her targets alive when she delivered them. Reaper was quite the opposite, by the very nature of his vocation.

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss, Elliot Marren," she said sincerely, giving his arm another comforting squeeze. "You have my condolences. But the galaxy is at war. The Mandalorians are at war. That's the nature of the beast, friend. People die, and even those who distance themselves from the conflict still can still feel the sting of loss."

 

[Apollyon]

A'den shook his head and chuckled at Chitsah's obvious assumption, he could hardly.believe this was the woman who nearly wiped out his clan! She was cunning then but now she was showing her lack of galactic knowledge.

We are no longer at war, the mando'ad stand united under Corden Vencu' banner, we fight for Mandalore the Preserver! A'den half shouted as he rose his shot glass, it shattered as he gripped it slightly too tightly.

The bartender's head dropped slightly as the sounds of broken glass reached his ears.

As for your sister, I feel no pity nor remorse her death, we did what any race would do to a leader who abandoned her people...execution. A'den said before pouring the Marren boy and Chitsah a new shot and taking a swig from the Firewhiskey bottle.

 

[Captain Flynn]

Outside in the foul night air, the line grew ever longer to enter the Blue Orchid. It's imposing distance created a daunting obstacle between the wanton customers and their coveted "nightlife", and some deemed it too considerable to be worth the wait. Finally reaching the front of the line, a rustic looking Clantaani stepped forward. Head bowed with hat crooked to obscure his face, he strode purposefully towards the entrance, quite intent on pushing past the doormen. As should be expected, a hand shot out to impede his progress, planting itself firmly in his chest.

"No admittance while you're so....armed," the bouncer said gruffly, nodding towards the myriad of weapons clinging to the alien's garments. The Clantaani stared menacingly into the bouncer's eyes, sizing him up. In but a moment, another guard approached to make the message still clearer. Contemplating the two for a moment, the Clantaani seemed to decide that it was not, indeed, worth the trouble, and he handed over his weapons. The ever swelling masses behind him rolled their eyes and scoffed with impatience. Stuck up, toffy-nosed gits.... he mentally fussed, now prepared to pass.

As he stepped through the doors, a sensor that lined the rim of the entrance flared to life, alerting the doormen that something was amiiss. The bouncers slammed the old Clantaani against the door frame, beginning to feel for a concealed weapon that the door frame must have detected.

"Careful, gents!" the stranger barked, "Mind where you pat me, aye? I'm buying tonight, not selling...."

They ignored him as they continued scanning, prodding him vigorously with probes, metal detectors, and the like. They searched him from head to toe, the only possessions on his person were a pack of deathsticks and a lighter. Rummaging through the pack and the lighter, everything seemed completely normal. Quite perplexed, they attempted to take these from him also, but he reached out and stopped them saying:

"Come now....the only person those things can harm is me, right? I'll even get a light inside. Only don't make me buy another pack, aye?"

The bouncers looked stupidly at each other, seeking some unspoken cue from their comrade. Or, at least, the Clantaani thought them particularly stupid. Reluctantly, they returned the pack of deathsticks, but not before taking one apiece. He quickly lit one, sucking it gratefully. With a tip of his hat, he slipped indoors, leaving the sensor buzzing feebly at some nonexistent threat.

His eyes struggled to adjust to the pulsating lights emanating from the ceiling of the club, but despite this he was still able to locate what he sought. Towards the back of the club in a secluded booth, an aging Rodian sipped a blue liquid feverishly as he nervously scanned the crowd of party-goers.

Slipping behind him, the Clantaani leaned over and growled in his ear: "A man in our profession should know better than to leave his back exposed...."

The Rodian practically shrieked, spraying the table with the neon blue beverage. "Madd Dogg!" he shouted. In all honesty, it couldn't really be described as a shout: it was more akin to a little scream. Some drunken sod shouted "Where?!", looking around for a rabid animal. The Clantaani pretended as though he hadn't heard him, but he seethed a little at the comment. He was rather fond of his name.

"You have a light on you, old friend?" Madd Dogg addressed the Rodian, pouting out his droopy lips so as to present his deathstick to him. The Rodian, hands shaking a little, pulled out a lighter and obliged. Puffing on the burning stub in his mouth, the Clantaani quickly wreathed the booth in smoke, coughing heartily before sighing a deep, smokey sigh.

"Much better," he mused, leaning back in his seat and firing loops of smoke at the ceiling. "So how've you been, Nibbs?"

"Oh....you know I really do hate that little nickname."

"Sure I do. But you're Nubs. It's what we've always called you. Oh....almost forgot....there aint no "we" anymore, is there?"

The one called "Nibbs" quivered a little before mumbling, "Well no, I suppose not."

Madd Dogg leaned forward, sucking hard on his deathstick until it was just a pillar of ash hanging limply from his mouth. In one breath, he enveloped the whole booth in a thick, greenish fog. "You suppose right. By my count you could add us all together on just one hand. Aint it just...." he paused, an inexplicable glitter in his piercing yellow eyes, ".....peachy?"

 

[Orphen]

Junior listened up to the people beside him, the Mandos he assertained one seemed to be some form of deserter, whos sister was Mandalore!? Damn, quite the resume' though it wasn't much of his buisness, Junior pushed down another shot, and it seemed that things weren't going too well for Elliot... Ever since the draft, Junior had a soft spot for people in this kind of predicament. He thought to himself deeply.

What would i do if i lost Celeste, i'd be mad, really mad, i'd kill them all, everyone, everything, I'd leave nothing but burning land in my wake. I'd destroy whatever entire homeworld they came from... when I get home, i'm giving her a hug...

looking over at the man, they were pouring the drinks. The Galactic alliance symbols on his cloak gave him away, but here who you were and who you were alligned with didn't matter. He had friends in here, or at very least, work buddies who liked his efficiencey. Junior never owed money, to anyone. Which was a very high quality in the trade, but he also knew who not to say no to. Which was an equally high skill. looking at the barkeep he called him over holding out a card. He was done for the night, ready to pay.

Hey barkeep, here's my pay, and I'd like to open up a tab for this guy here, put five hundered on it for him. But dont let the blockhead use a single credit of it... At this point he looked straight at Elliot. Family's important, no matter who they are, and you love them no matter what, right? He said with a smile, the man had given junior a gift, perspective, what life would be like without his sister. It felt like a dark, cold place. But junior lifted up his collar and headed back to the door, he was about to spend a while looking through the confiscated weapons for his blasters, there were a lot of them. But he found one of them, and then soon after, the other. The rifle was an easier number to locate, and with his helmet, he was finally re-kitted out.

If anyone was to follow him, so be it, he was out of here.

 

[Allu'rah Danan]

Chitsah looked at A'den almost incredulously, ignoring the shot of fire whiskey he had poured for her. "You're not at war?" she inquired in disbelief. "The whole galaxy is in upheaval and I'm supposed to believe the Mandalorians aren't scrapping for a fight?" It seemed like a scandal, the way she said it. She was half-hoping for someone to pinch her and wake her. Surely it could not be true that the Mandalorians were sitting out of a war, especially given their treatment from the Sith. "Last I heard, your people were a bunch of homeless, drifting despots who surrendered your worlds to the Sith's claim without so much as a whimper of a complaint. The Mandalorians I heard of from the legends would be fighting to their last man to drive those Imperial dogs from their territory." She stared her challenge at the drunken clan leader. She fully expected him to meet it at some point in the night. Maybe not right here in the middle of the club. But as he had acknowledged, they had unfinished business together.

She got up and stood at her full height, stepping around Elliot to jab a scolding finger into A'den's chest. "This guy's actions have nothing to do with what his sister did. She might have been a traitor, and a bad Mandalore. But she was his family before she was any of those things. So you can just lay off, A'den Fett! Stop rubbing it in! Let him grieve in peace." Her nose wrinkled slightly as she huffed at him. Her heels helped her to meet his eyes levelly with her poisonous green ones, and she was grateful for the fact that he was not looking down on her at the moment. There were times when you just needed height in order to help give off a proper lecturing air. She had every intention of holding this stare until he backed down. It was quite an entertaining thought actually. A bounty hunter lecturing her target in the middle of a night club and then engaging in a staring contest. At what point had thing