Ask Naboo Road Rash

[Neeka Wren]

Just outside Theed's Spaceport...
​

It truly was a beautiful planet. The dual waterfalls in the near distance were a distant roar and made for a serene spectacle, nestled as they were so nicely into Theed's landscape that they seemed almost hand-crafted. The weather was as gorgeous as the view; big fluffy clouds drawled across the sky with nowhere in particular to be with gentle sighs of wind. If they ever felt like rain, it was more often than not a pleasant drizzle. She could smell how crisp and clean the air itself was even with her nose stifled by duraplast and surrounded as she was by the stench of propulsion. She nearly removed her helmet right then and there just to inhale.

Krownest didn't have merciful rain. Krownest had screaming blizzards...but even they were better than the acrid pollution choking Neeka Wren's original home of Nar Shaddaa.


Lovely weather and scenery notwithstanding, she was on Naboo for a reason. An important one. Kolvin was living in Theed now and her brother still thought she was dead. It was long past time to change that, but it was not until a friend and clanmate had put Neeka right on her ass during a sparring session and per their prior agreement, he got to make a demand of her. His demand had been reasonable enough, yet the young warrior couldn't help but wish she were back on Krownest still earning new bruises. Bruises were less painful than explaining why she had never contacted Kolvin over the years to his face. But she was honor-bound to keep her word now, so she had to clear her conscience of this so the two Mandalorians could have a proper rematch.

It was made all the clearer to Neeka just how distracted she had been when she turned her back to Theed's splendor and was met with two large men dressed in grubby spacer gear directly on the opposite side of her Balutar. The pair clearly had never heard of personal bubbles, for they poked and prodded at her property while throwing bold looks her way and guffawing boorishly.

"Nice swoop there, girlie." One of the ugly muscleheads finally decided she was worth addressing. "Balutar. Must've cost a pretty bit of credits, huh? You should sell it and find a better seat. Like the back of my swoop."

The seething pouring off the Mandalorian was almost tangible. Her stance tightened. Her shoulders squared. She put as much authority into her voice as she could muster.

"Fixed it up myself, actually. Bet you can appreciate it with your eyes instead of your fingers. And at a distance."

That earned Neeka another round of self-important chuckling and prompted the young woman to wonder where the hell the port authorities were. Fancy planet or not...it seemed this manner of scum was a galaxy-wide problem.

"Is it her, Reg?"

"Mhmm. Sure is, Biitan. Same armor."

"Heh. Thought so. You owe my friend here a lot of credits, girlie, and you're gonna pay up. Now."


Damn. Neeka considered reaching for her blaster, but that would definitely jumpstart the inevitable confrontation which would end with all parties involved getting arrested. And she liked being not in prison. Yet something told Neeka that these two wouldn't accept a simple case of mistaken identity and be on their merry way. She needed to stall.

Or better yet...she needed a distraction.

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

After a conflict in the Talcene Transit, the 'Junkspear' would make it's return to the border of the Outer Rim and to the world of Naboo. His ship had taken some damage in the conflict. Namely a freighter's cannon had struck the R-41's belly, avoiding much of the crucial components. What it did do however, was cripple the craft's Concussion Missile launcher. It had taken some time to track a comparable replacement, but Kotru eventually did.

It would take some time to fit however, so the Zabrak had a couple days to kill before the vessel would be brought back into a fighting-fit shape.

So, he did what he did best. Seek out trouble.

Leaving his small hotel room in Theed, Kotru would find himself wandering the streets aimlessly. The warm sunlight beaming down on him as he took deep breaths of that clean, non-recycled and refreshed air. His aimless walking would eventually lead him to the opposite side of the courtyard where a armor-clad individual seemed to be getting hassled by a pair of...

'Wait a minute. Ain't those patches...'

Kotru's lips curve up mischievously in recognition. Those two matched the same uniform as the ones who he had just stolen their cargo from.

The same ones who busted up his ship.

And it just so happened there were only three swoops on this street. Hers, and the pair of plating-stripped bikes that were in front of him. His gaze turns back upward, sky blue eyes locking with the iconic visor of the individual. His eyebrows are lifted briefly, as if recognizing their plight as he leaned down with a screwdriver in one hand.

---

"Now, if don't have them on you, that's fine. We can take you to a bank and play it nice and cool.." Reg continued, the Rodian gesturing a thumb towards the two bikes as he turned...

"Hey! Ya' mudskipper! Whaddaya think you're doing?!"

"Juust takin' a look there, brother." The Zabrak's head perked up after a few more precious moments, the tool slipping down baggy blue sleeves as he raised both hands like he hadn't just loosed the engine from its casing. "Mighty fine bike ya' got there. Sure wouldn't be expectin' your type to ride it." He continued, slowly approaching with his arms raised.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" He snarled in response.

"Nothin'. Figured you would'a splurged on somethin' better. A man's bike is his chariot, gotta look your status, y'feel?" Flattery slips from Kotru's lips as they both passed eachother, Biitan glaring daggers at the stranger.

As Reg would inspect the vehicle, he would slowly sit down as the repulsorlifts wobbled slightly from the roughness of the way the Rodian dropped himself onto it.

"Ey, T'. We should get outta here, second he starts that thing he's probably gonna kill us both." A soft murmur escapes from the Zabrak, slowly lowering his hands.

@Roobi

 

[Neeka Wren]

The Rodian seemed to very slightly favor his left side, indicating that she should strike from the right. There were only two of them. She could do this. His companion would be more difficult as he looked brawnier, so she would have to focus a rapid burst of disabling strikes upon him and position him just right so that the other blaster could not-


...Who in the hell is that?


Neeka Wren was already ignoring the inconsequential threats made by Reg, someone who was bound to try and mug her anyway, and looking past the burly shoulders at a Zabrak all but sauntering up to the Rodian's swoop. She watched in disbelief as he locked gazes with her before crouching down and apparently fiddling with something.

The Mandalorian considered using the brief distraction to leap onto her bike and barrel out of this situation at rapid speed, yet an annoying pang of conscience kept her from acting on what was probably a wise course of action. Even though she had been briefly forgotten, if Neeka ran away now then she would be leaving this Zabrak to fight her battle. The problem was that there was nothing around them in this wide-open area of the busy spaceport. No places for cover, no ways to further distract the two thugs, nothing besides...

Neeka groaned internally as she realized what exactly she was about to do here.


The odd Zabrak was near her now, but she suspected that was exactly where he had planned to be and then confirmed it when he whispered her way. She gave a subtle nod of confirmation. It was about to go down.

"...huh?" The dull-brained voice of the Rodian was a precursor to a strange sound as Reg took his handlebars and kicked the swoop to full power. Immediately the bike sputtered, rumbled, then slammed onto the ferroconcrete below it as its engine slipped out of its frame and hung from one last bolt like a drooping tongue. "You-! You're...you're DEAD!"

While Reg fumbled for his blaster and tried to recover from the abrupt dislocation, Neeka's fist shot out with speed and precision. Her knuckles connected hard with the soft bits of Biitan's throat and sent him to his knees, clutching at his trachea and gasping for breath. It wouldn't stop the brute for long. They needed to make tracks.

"Time to go! Come on!" Neeka didn't bother to see if her new accomplice understood her meaning as she rushed to mount her own bike before blaster fire erupted around them. Any anonymity their altercation might have had was shattered. Naboo's enforcers would surely be on their way after them soon. They really had to move.

As soon as more than her own weight pressed upon the Balutar, Neeka kicked it into high gear and they immediately shot out onto the road as fast as a hair trigger...though it occurred to her that the pursuing swoop bike was probably more than enough to catch up to them. The suspicion was confirmed a minute later when a bolt tore through the air near her head and Neeka glanced behind to find both Reg and Biitan on the same swoop bike in hot pursuit. Damn.


Neeka veered sharply to the right to avoid a cargo droid casually fulfilling its programming, but unfortunately so did the two thugs. They were showing a stronger aptitude for piloting than the young warrior had anticipated. This was going to be tricky.

"Your turn to drive! Don't kill us, 'kay?"

Neeka Wren did not wait to see if the Zabrak was ready yet. There was no time. One gloved hand gripped an indent upon the side of her swoop while the other carefully held strong to her passenger's shoulder. With a twist of her body, Neeka managed to get behind him where he could take the handlebars and she could provide cover fire as they ate up miles and miles of long road during their chase.


She just hoped he knew how to drive a swoop.

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

"Ahaha! Just like your escorts, Nydack licker!"

Watching the Rodian's swoop clatter to the ground with its engine swiveling on the last of its bolts had been greatly cathartic to the Zabrak, evident by the cackling in his tone and the single-fingered gesture returned in the Rodian's direction as he fumbled with the holster. His gaze was quickly drawn by the resounding crack of metal on flesh as the Captain's companion hit the ground.

Scrambling onto the back of the Balutar, Kotru's hands dug into what grooves their were on the casing and held on for dear life as the rush of wind as the Swoop accelerated nearly blew him off of the back entirely. "Whoa-hohohohoo!" Panicked, the Zabrak leaned enough of his weight forward so the drag wasn't about to rip him from his spot behind the stranger.

That panic, as usual, turned to adrenaline as that familiar rush of speed kicks in. Unlike a starship or a gunfight though, he could feel the air stretching and rippling across his skin, the harsh sensation making him feel just as alive as the twin pumps slamming against his ribs. A yelp precedes any further comment from the Zabrak as that same bolt sails right past his own head. With that reminder of mortal danger, Kotru curses himself for not bringing any form of armor as he threw a hand behind him and let go of the screwdriver.

Said tool bounces once, twice, then misses the infuriated Reg and his Human counterpart by a good meter. The Zabrak could have sworn he heard sarcastic compliments before the stranger wrestled with his hip and climbed across to the further rear of the Swoop. "Farrik- Don't gotta tell me twice, Tee!" He called back, shoving his weight forward and taking control of the speeder.

'Okay, it's just like a normal bike. Foot on the pedal and..'

The Swoop lurches up slightly as Kotru twists the handle just a little, getting a feel for its acceleration and very nearly turning the both of them vertical.

"How sensitive do you have this thing?!" He called back, pushing forward and straightening them out. 'Easy, just swerve between traffic. You can pilot a starship, this is just an open cockpit one! Quit freaking! Besides, the chick behind you is covered in armour! You don't gotta worry about blaster-'

"Eeyai!" Kotru's head reflexively ducked down as yet another blaster bolt rips right by the two acquaintances, tilting his weight to the right as he swerved into the next lane. His grip on the handles tighten as he pushes forward, steadily gaining speed on the main road.

The steady wail of sirens draws closer and closer, a looming threat that ignited the street in red and blue like an approaching wall.

"Taking a left... Now! Lean!" Pushing his weight to the side, the Zabrak would pull back on the controls as they swerved upward to bleed some of the speed to make the turn. At the apex of their arc, Kotru pushes down again and regains the lost momentum as they tore across the opposite lane and right into a different road.

Reg and Biitan were quick to follow however, the maneuver only generating a small amount of space between them.

More than enough to aim some more shots, however.

@Roobi

 

[Neeka Wren]

"My NAME is Ne-" Neeka never got further in that sentence when the swoop bike lurched wildly during their exchange. She shouted wordlessly and clung on for dear life, once again wishing that she had a jetpack like many in her clan.

"Osik!" The warrior exclaimed as she nearly fell off the back. It wasn't exactly a bike designed for tandem riding; there was not even a seat under her rump so most of her ability to remain mounted relied upon Neeka wrapping one tight arm around the Zabrak's waist. "Who the hell taught you how to drive?!"

As predicted, the inevitable police force was now joining the chase and prompted another loud curse in Mando'a from her. She fired one shot behind them, but the bike swerved just enough to send the bolt sailing harmlessly into the sky. She needed a clearer target.


There. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the Zabrak's words were shouted back to her and she obeyed more on reflex than any real conscious effort. Her teeth clamped together and she flung her weight as hard as she could to the side, fingers digging into her unknown companion's ribs. Yet as she twisted her torso to see where their pursuers had ended up, Neeka made full on eye-contact with Biitan. The man leveled a blaster at her face.


Neeka had been shot at plenty of times in her life. Each squeeze of the trigger could mean the end for her. It was the sort of thing that, if focused on, could drive her crazy. There was some kind of strange intimacy between her and the man trying to murder her, as charged as the shots exchanged. It was a moment of pure clarity where all other sound drowned out around them and all Neeka could hear anymore was the pounding of her heart and all she could see were the two blaster bolts streaking through the air.


Both connected simultaneously. A satisfied grin spread across Neeka's face as her own bolt struck someplace vital and she saw Biitan loose his grip from Reg's shoulders and fall backwards off the swoop bike. And then pain shot up and down her arm, causing her to nearly drop the blaster after realizing she had been shot.

"Oh. Phew! Just a graze- ...uh. Uhh. UHHH!"

Her increasing urgency in tone was unnecessary, but Neeka couldn't help herself as she was watching the road quickly vanish under them to bring the chase closer and closer to two side-by-side large cargo droids barreling down the lane. And there was no telling if the small space between them was enough to fit either swoop bike.

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

As the Balutar swerved into the next lane, Kotru moved upright again and pushed down the throttle again.

The lurch of T's armored wrist into his gut had sent a wave of pressure through the Zabrak, exhaling deeply and breathing a lungful of the air which whipped across his tattooed face. Both hands remain on a white-knuckled grip on the handlebars, unable to swat the relentless hold as he huffed.

"Not you, this thing's got a hair throttle!" He cursed back, the distant flash and screaming alarms remaining in the previous road. At least, for now. The Zabrak knew they weren't going to let go after a single turn, some manuevers were in order. The crackle of blasterfire behind him kept Kotru sharp-nerved, occasionally swerving around the lane to keep the two mobile. When he heard the firing finally stop, his thoughts could finally plot out a course.

At least, that was the plan.

The junky Swoop had steadily closed in on the pair, a vengeful Reg piloting with one hand and swinging a pipe with the other as he made glancing swipes at the Jumpspeeder.

"Yeah, yeah! I hear you, I hear you! just lemme think!" Pale blue eyes swap between the two heavy durasteel boxes clogging up the road with their sheer size. With only a few moments to plan out his escape, Kotru pursed his lips and swerved to the left.

Right into oncoming traffic.

Pushing down the throttle as hard as it could go, the wind rippled even fiercer than it ever did before as he swerved between speeder and droid alike. And just as he suspected, the Rodian had followed right behind him. The two cargo carriers were quickly overtaken, the Zabrak swinging back into the right lane and yanking back on the throttle.

The droid behind them was quick to follow, collision warnings blaring behind the two. The hauler did its best to slow down its heavy form with little luck, repulsorlifts screaming in protest. Kotru got ready to twist the accelerator as hard as he could, giving the stranger only a precious few seconds to execute some kind of unspoken plan.

Reg tore out beside them, still holding his high-speed.

"There's your window! Light him up!"

 

[Neeka Wren]

"WHATAREYOUDOING-THISISNOTBETTER!"

The words shot out from Neeka like a series of rockets a moment after she watched her companion do exactly what she was hoping he wouldn't do. She cradled her injured arm in her lap and prepared for death.

They lurched left. Right. When she didn't die, the Mandalorian looked up and realized that they were weaving in and out of traffic, dodging obstacles, and otherwise not crashing into anything. For a time she forgot their circumstances entirely and turned an impressed look the Zabrak's way, not that he could see it past the helmet. He knew what he was doing. Hell...he might even be a better driver than even her.

Armed with this information, Neeka felt far better about their chances and pushed down the instinctive fear to put her focus upon the high-velocity fight.


As her Zabrak friend's words reached her, the rest of the world drowned out around her. Her pistol lay gripped loosely in her mostly useless arm. This would have to be done without it. As Reg blasted down next to them and immediately went on the offensive with vicious swings of his pipe whenever the two bikes came near, Neeka's other hand shot down to her boot where a knife lay waiting. As soon as it was in her grip, the tiny vibro-engine hummed to life. She slashed- once, twice! She only was cutting empty air and the Rodian thug was proving too slippery.

CRACK! The metal of her helmet rang out a deafening tune when Reg's improvised weapon slammed against it and Neeka felt sharp pains in both ears and her skull felt briefly like exploding open. It took the Mandalorian a minute to shake off the disorientation, but once she did she discovered something interesting: she was mad as hell.

The young warrior needed to change tactics- and fast. The vibroknife went back into its sheath. This is really stupid, Neeks. She could hear her brother's ever-familiar voice caution against doing what she was about to do, as he had done so often before.


Her first snatch was futile and resulted in Reg smacking the hand back, illiciting a comm-muffled scream from Neeka as her pinky was dislocated. This was not the time for pain. This was her moment of victory. Neeka, heedless of the way her hand was screaming, grabbed again as the Rodian swung.

This time her hand clamped true to stop the weapon, though the act sent spikes of blinding agony up and down her entire torso. Reg and Neeka were entangled, both fighting for possession of the coveted pipe. It was a ruse. The Mandalorian yanked hard until her face was a bare fraction away from Reg's.

"So long, schutta-head!"

In the next instant, both thug and swoop bike were obliterated into scrap. Reg, unable to get Neeka's hands off his weapon and unwilling to let it go in time, collided head-on at terminal speed with traffic. The road was immediately thrown into a chaotic mess of exploding droids and speeders...but they had more immediate problems.


"Right, that was the easy part! Now keep working that magic and get us away from the cops!"

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

On the actual seat of the speeder, Kotru's mind raced as hard as the twin-pumps in his chest beat. Each vehicle and drone he passed sent ripples of wind across the craft and jostled it even in those brief moments of straight and narrow he took. His racing thoughts had squared down into a laser-focus, the windburn merely an afterthought.

'Left. Diagonal LR. Up. THERE!'

The deafening scream of alarms and the clang of pipe on Beskar alloy behind him were like a song to his adrenaline-high mind, barely affording a look in the mirror that reflected back that toothy and manic grin igniting his features.

A slight left tilt was all that was needed as his companion and enemy grappled the same length of metal, a roaring chorus of smashes drawing his attention to the right mirror. He saw the plume of smoke and splatter of red quickly blending into the Duracrete, letting him know all that he needed to know. The Captain was dead, and his spite was rewarded.

"'Das the plan, Tee!"

Finally releasing the cargo drone from the breaking menace, Kotru gripped the throttle and gave it all it could. That already familiar and welcoming rush of air was quick to envelop the pair, Balutar rocketing down the street once more.

178 KM/h.

230 KM/h.

The Zabrak steadily weaved between the speeders and droids, pin-like eyes snapping around as he swerved and turned. The ground beneath them was like a blur, the pilot treating the vehicle and it's surrounds like an asteroid field of steel.

He always did want to pilot an interceptor...

"Duck down, gonna try a lil' somethin'."

With the distant flash of lights drawing his attention, Kotru looked towards the next exit from the road and hit the brakes. He would turn and tilt his weight to the side, angling the speeder until they were diagonal. Inertia kept the two of them glued to their seats and lack thereof, Balutar lowering closer to the ground as he ducked his head down.

Descending from the Nabooian bridge and to the road beneath, Kotru continued slowing down to a more civil speed before ducking into a nearby alley as he kept the speeder close to the ground. He would eventually bring it down behind a set of crates.

Even from their little hideaway the both of them could see the blinding flash of red and blue blitzing across the street above, chasing a speeding phantom that had long since dived out of view.

Leaning back into an upright position, Kotru laid a hand on his beating chest and let out a breathy laugh.

"Ahahaha! I can barely feel my face!"

@Roobi

 

[Neeka Wren]

Neeka was silent for the remainder of the ride despite the action still happening around her. Her mind was both years and planets away, sent there unwillingly to the Mandalorian's past by the symphony of speed, sirens, and a near death experience. For a time, Neeka was no longer the warrior tempering herself against the forge of the galaxy. She had found the grease-stained skin of who she used to be with barely a coat of dust on it and wore it again with little regard for the consequence. It was easy to do while clinging to someone who clearly shared the same indulgence. It took everything Neeka had to not cheer wildly as the familiar rush of momentum shot through her system like spice.

There was something oddly equally soothing in the winding down of their escape and Neeka could feel her heart rate slow as the bike did, easing into the anonymity of one of the many forgotten alleyways in Naboo's capital. The sounds of the city grew almost muffled beyond the manufactured gorge that now hid them from pursing authorities.


It certainly would have been far more comforting if her head wasn't pounding painfully and her arm wasn't partially cooked. As her Zabrak companion laughed, Neeka groaned and hauled herself off the uncomfortable back of the Balutar while yanking her helmet from her head. Her hair tumbled out and down her shoulders, still fine and flowing despite being matted down slightly by both sweat and compression.

"Dank farrik, that stings." The Mandalorian complained as she inspected the burnt flesh through the hole made just below her pauldron. "Lucky shot. Could have been worse, I guess."

She spun to face him and both brows rose when she finally got a good look at the Zabrak. "...name's Neeka. Guess I owe you one for saving my hide back there. And for keeping my bike in one piece. Where'd you learn to drive like that, anyway? And..."

Neeka's face contorted into light confusion as she let the wall nearest to them hold up most of her weight.

"Why did you even do it in the first place?"

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

That laughter soon calmed down, the Zabrak still riding the fading remnants of the high-speed thrill he had been enjoying. The sensation was familiar to Kotru, yet as exhilirating as ever. When he looked down, his hands trembled with pale knuckles from the tightness in his grip. He clenched his digits tight and released, letting go of the hitch in his breath with a deep exhale. A leg swings over the frame of the bike, sitting on it's surface as he reached to his coat.

A light tug frees the cloth from his frame, turning it inside out and folding the warm article until it was a neat triangle. The sleeves were tied around his waist, concealing the tell-tale blue of his frame against the authority's lights. The blonde bangs framing his forehead were slicked back, fully concealing the nubby horns and looking almost human.

Had it not been for the tattoos across his face. 'Eh, close enough.'

When his blue orbs turned downward, a brow furrowed when he finally drew away from his self-centred thrills and to the world around him. To the companion who sat clenched against a wall, tending to a seared hole in her underarmor and the discarded helm by her side. A light push freed his rear from the craft, standing upright just in front of Neeka.

"Still a nasty shot, though. If you've got a 'Pac in that bike of yours, I can give it a looksie." The Zabrak replied, the frilly excitement in his tone dissipating to a light drawl as he spoke. "As for me and my drivin' skills, Kotru. Used to work in public security." A thumb pokes his breast as he spoke.

"Why? Well, that stupid lookin' logo belonged to some punks who screwed me over in a job. Figured I'd screw 'em right back. Thanks for the help, by the way. Got a mighty right hook there."

@Roobi

 

[Neeka Wren]

"Sounds like we both got lucky, then. Me, 'cause I still got that right hook."

Neeka laughed, then winced sharply through her teeth as her shoulder surged in pain again. Her fingers opened, trembled, then closed tightly once more. "Used my last Medi yesterday, but I got creds. Bet there's a clinic somewhere nearby...with a cantina conveniently close. Those things are like vultures; there's bound to be one 'round some blood."

The Mandalorian pushed off of her perch with a soft groan and held her injured arm held tight to her chest. "How about we go find someone that can keep my shootin' hand working, then I buy you a drink or six? It's the least I can do...way I see it, the scales are still tipped! You did basically save my life, more or less. Even if you scratched my swoop."

The last sentence was accentuated with a grin and a wink, though inwardly Neeka was laughing at herself. Here she was, wounded and exhausted and aching all over and she was flirting again. It was typical of her. The morning had begun with a significant degree of dread at the thought of meeting her brother, but she was eager to have it done. Yet now her plans would have to be postponed regardless; there was no way that Neeka was going to return to her brother with such an obvious injury.

She wasn't going to disrupt his life. Never again.

It was still an excuse and Neeka knew it, but one that she could live with. Let tomorrow be for a reunion with a brother who believed her dead and was most likely better off without her. Tonight was for the lingering adrenaline coursing through her veins, for getting drunk after a victory, and for shamelessly throwing herself at the attractive Zabrak that had helped her not die a coward's death.

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

The idle hand that moved as he spoke scratched at Kotru's chin as he watches the Mandalorian tend to her arm. "Quit movin' it then, you're only gonna make it worse." He commented. "Besides, business is business. If they can fix up whatever barfights break out at the end of the day, that's just easy credits."

A brief gaze flicks out to the streets, noticing the distant and subdued flashes. They were still going to be looking for the two scoundrels, that much was certain. His thin brows furrow in thought for a moment, reaching down to his jacket. "Sounds like a plan. But first, we oughtta blend in a bit better. Don't think they got my face, but that pink trim of yours is gonna stick out like a thumb." He untied the sleeves from his waist, offering the garment by the collar. "Lose the plate and throw that on. Should be good enough."

Seeing the flutter of an eyelid and that smirk on her features, the Zabrak rolled his own eyes with a huff. While he had half the mind to just drop her off at the clinic and go off to check on his ship, the idea of spending some time talking without the pretense of a job or one of his own self-and-otherwise destructive whims sounded like a nice change of pace.

Besides, it's not like Kotru could make like he did normally and hop in his ship and fly away now. He would take a few steps to give Neeka space to change out of the armor, leaning on the well-tagged building behind him and folding his still good arms together.

"And scratch? Unless you were plannin' to keep that hull fac-new forever, there's nothin' wrong with a bit of extra decor. I think it adds character."

@Roobi

 

[Neeka Wren]

Her advances quickly thwarted by what she was taking as a lack of interest, Neeka mentally shrugged. Oh well. Can't win 'em all! The victories today would certainly be more than enough to keep her satisfied and sore until the next one.


"Uh-uh. No way. Not happening." The Mandalorian insisted as soon as the suggestion left his lips to leave her armor behind. "Even if it wasn't against everything I've been taught and everythin' I stand for, there's no way in hell that I'm gonna walk around this planet without it. I haven't even been here a day and I've already been beaten, shot at, chased, and gotten in trouble with local law enforcement. The smarter thing would be to run, but I still got business."

During her short rant Neeka had ushered both arms into the offered jacket and pulled it over the beskar-alloy plate and immediately went from looking competent and intimidating to a bit goofy with the bulkiness of it all. Still- It would do the job at least until she would have to let the wound be treated.

"C'mon. Sooner we lose ourselves in a cantina, sooner the cops will forget us. Err. Hopefully." Her words rang slightly dire, but her lips were curled upwards into an amused grin and her laugh was clear and jovial. "'fore someone comes by and forces even more 'character' onto my ride!"


After briefly seeking out a filthy mass of rags that might've once been a blanket to throw over her swoop bike and helmet, Neeka Wren led the unlikely pair out of the dirty alley and into the dirty street. Even Theed had it's seedy locations, it would seem, but in comparison to most planets the young warrior had visited, this place felt positively safe and clean. She wasn't quite sure it was all worth it when she discovered the clinic had a waiting list and the two had to linger for the better part of a half-hour before a medical droid could remove, disinfect, then clean the scorched flesh of her wound. Finally, after arguing about the price of treatment for another five minutes, they were free to get completely smashed.


"So!" Neeka exclaimed casually as they walked the streets. "Got any favorite holes-in-the-wall here? This'll be my first time on Naboo. Not that I'm picky. At this point I'd down a shot of propulsion fluid if it got me drunk!

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

To say Kotru's knowledge of the Mandalorians was lacking would be a vast, vast understatement. In truth, he didn't really no anything at all so to see such a vehement refusal was a surprise. As Neeka stuffed her arms into the jacket, his own hands were raised.

"Alright, alright, I think I get it, Tee." The Zabrak responded, holding his palms up with an amused smile and tone.

Whether he used the nickname out of spite or friendliness was up in the air, a short snicker managing to slip it's way past his lips with the addition. "Armour stays on, I get'cha. Just keep it zipped up and hope nobody looks down."

With his lips curled upward in a small grin of his own, the Zabrak was quick to follow the bulky-jacketed woman's lead. "Someone'll cause somethin' sooner or later. S'cool." His own laugh would join Neeka's, a low chuckle at her comment sitting nicely under the clear cackle of the Mandalorian.

Having no adrenaline burning his veins seemed to mellow out Kotru, that tremble in his movements dissipating into loose and careless mannerisms as the two would make their way to one of the local clinics. This did not seem to stay the same while they waited, having remained restless pretty much the entire time they had lingered, pacing around and unable to sit still as the Zabrak was made to wait outside the office while she was patched up. He seemed to calm down once the two were out of the medical bay, taking a breath of the cool air and walking alongside her.

"Well!" Kotru returned the exclamation, hands in his pockets as his gaze drifted upward as he thought. "We got a couple options. Most'a the ritzy places are outta my paygrade, but I know a nice little place not too far from here. You like seafood, right?"

The Zabrak would soon take the lead, turning down a couple streets before eventually arriving at a small establishment, a small sign emblazoned with 'The Burst Booma' in stylized aurabesh. The titular grenade of the Gungans filling in the spaces of the Bs and Os. The interior was relatively simple, a set of chairs and tables each set up close to the walls. Slow rock played over the speakers manning the bar, only a few people at tables so early in the day. As expected by the name, a Gungan standing at the counter would meet gazes with Kotru then nod over at one of the tables.

He would lead himself and Neeka over to one of the tables, sitting down on one side of the bench and patting the table. A datapad with a menu sits between them, Kotru folding his arms and gesturing to it with one hand. "They ain't got propulsion fuel, but there'll be somethin' I think you'll like there." He commented, a sly grin crossing his lips.

@Roobi

 

[Neeka Wren]

Dubiousness rose quickly in Neeka's mind as soon as the unlikely pair turned a corner and their destination was revealed. To a warrior from the fringes of the Outer Rim, this brightly-lit establishment resembled more a family restaurant than a place to celebrate another day of life. However, she was inexperienced around these parts and Kotru seemed to know where he was going, so Neeka placed her trust in him and followed the Zabrak into The Burst Booma.

The inside of it was not as gaudy as she had anticipated, thank the stars. Neeka had never heard the song that was playing and wondered if were a big hit on Naboo and how hard it would be to get a recording, thinking already of the long trip back home to Krownest. It didn't help that she was feeling surprisingly naked without the helmet that had been her sole companion for years now.

Maybe she needed this time away from being a Warrior much more than she thought.

Her steps rang with hesitance even as she lowered herself into the seats Kotru chose for them, but the casual joking seemed to put her more at ease. "Well. Guess I'll make do with a weaker drink." She grinned in return, fingers tapping at the pad. "...Provided these are drinks! What in the galaxy is a 'Rooti-tooti Fizzbip Fruity'? I swear, custom cocktails are just a way to charge more for the same stuff. What kind of sucker falls for that?"



About a half-hour later as Neeka was sipping on her second Fizzbip Fruity, her eyes could not stop straying to her Zabrak friend's face. She let the silence sit between them for a bit more before finally speaking up.

"Soooo...tell me 'bout that job, yeah? I mean- those two couldn't hit the broad side of a Corellian Corvette painted bright red, so how'd they screw you over? I get the sense it's probably a good story, now that we gave it a proper ending."

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

"I'd rather that. Don't need to be carrying all'a that armour back to your speeder and... wherever it is you live." Kotru smirked back at Neeka as he leaned back in the plush seating. The brief judgmental rant about the naming convention was met with an airy laugh from the Zabrak, waving off her concerns with one hand. "Just try it! Tastes like someone melted down one'a those snow cakes. S'real nice."

As their orders came and time steadily ticked away, the tracks had retained that slow-paced rock theme. The current track had a greater focus on the drummer, each thump punctuated with a vocalist whose voice rhymed alongside each and every strum of the backing guitar.

On the other side of the table, Kotru had been enjoying a grilled slice of fish. A lemon had been crushed up and seeped over the meat, the carnivorous Zabrak placing the slice of sour goodness into his own Tropical Scarif Seltzer which had accompanied an empty glass beside it. His expression had lightened up, sneaking occasional glances right back into the warrior's own eyes. When she asked about his own job, he would lean up from his plate and push his back against the chair.

"Oh-" He swallowed the mouthful of meat, exhaling after. "Right, yeah. Nah, those chumps couldn't aim a damn thing on the ground. 'Course, that's the same for me too. Hand me a blaster, a target and I'll give ya' a stencil of it!" Kotru started, laughing at the expense of his own credibility. "As for the 'why', me and another fella had been hired to jump their freighter. Standard snatch 'n grab, y'know how it is." In-between words, he would raise his glass and take another sip. "Anyhows, all's was goin' well. Took out their escort, was workin' on the engines when the sneaky bastards nailed me with an ion turret."

"Next thing I knew; bastards nailed my ship in the gut. Took out a bunch'a systems with it. Damn near lost my angle on my way out when we were done. In the end, we got the job done and their ship was handed off to our client. Honestly, I'm surprised they didn't start somethin' with me. Then again, they didn't get much'a my mug when we were bringin' it down."

Another sip, another hungry crunch of his meal. Once his mouth was empty again, he lightly pointed the fork back at Neeka as he reflected a question of his own back at her.

"Speakin' of getting hit, what's with that armor, anyways? Awfully iffy 'bout takin' it off. Some kinda gift or somethin'?"

 

[Neeka Wren]

She was beginning to feel more and more like her old self and less like the scarred warrior she'd become and with every emptied drink of multiple colors Neeka seemed to loosen up. She realized abruptly that she had needed an outing like this; something to remind her that she was still that girl from the Smuggler's Moon ready to bloody the nose of anyone who got in her way. All at once, the armor beneath the borrowed jacket felt all the heavier for the choices she'd made.

With each new glass that crowded their table Neeka's laughing became more frequent and boisterous, her movements less guarded and restrained. Among her clan, she'd built up a possibly unhealthy tolerance for drinking and even by the fourth time a droid had brought a round for them she had not slowed down.

"Ain't nothing sweeter than some jerk getting what's coming to them, right?"


The question he posed should have been expected, but it gave Neeka pause all the same. She peered down and opened up the jacket slightly to just barely reveal the shiny beskar-alloy, then gave it a firm flick with her fingers.

"Hmm... I guess you could say that. This part, here? It was custom-forged and I watched the wholllle thing." Neeka paused to wet her throat with a drink that was a swirl of red and blue slush. "Never really know the difference between mass-manufacturing and true craftsmanship 'til you see it for yourself, ya know? And mine's nothin' compared to some of the armor on my clanmates back home.

"I'm a Mandalorian. Armor, Creed, Clan, all that fun stuff. I'd sooner toss my blaster and speeder into an airlock than walk 'round most places without this on."

The end of her sentence preceded a somewhat loud slurping as Neeka scavenged the very last remnants of an overpriced beverage. Her delicate brows knit together as another thought occurred before it was summoned to her lips on the whims of inebriation.

"Mmm! What I get sick of, though? How serious everyone can be. Like, I get it- we're Warriors and whatnot and we've got a Code and stuff but it doesn't say we can't live a little."


Neeka's eyes wandered to the side and past his shoulder before lighting up. "Speaking of- consider this a formal challenge! Holodarts...or Wookie Warpath?" She asked with a cocky grin, nodding to a corner where a series of brightly flashing arcade games whirred and chimed their hunger for tokens away.

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

Neeka had steadily started to outpace her Iridonian companion when it came to drinks, reaching her fourth as he had still only just started his third. His previously closed off and dismissive nature had since fallen to the wayside, her upbeat and loud cackling accompanied by Kotru's lighter but still somewhat reserved chuckle. Having to always keep his cards close to his chest had become second nature, rarely released to the open.

Finishing off his own light meal with one last mouthful of fish, he swallowed and nodded.

"Mm, I could think of a couple things. Buuut most of it's food though, so I'm thinkin' on my stomach here."

But a bit of liquor to loosen the gears certainly helped.

He would lean forward, the Zabrak's sharp chin resting in between his thumb and index finger as he listened intently to the Mandalorian. He had only heard small amounts of the warrior caste while sharing stories with his fellow workers, recognizing the name and the armour now that she made the connection. And of course, their talent for old-fashioned violence. Everything else, on the other hand? Completely mysterious.

Maybe he could ask more later.

"Well, I'll be." Kotru hummed, taking another sip of his glass. "Can't say I've ever seen a Mandalorian in the flesh before. No wonder you decked that guy so well." Another cackle escaped his lips, rumbling in his throat for a few moments. "See, the thing is sister, everyone's all about that seriousness nowadays." A light wave of his hand punctuated his exasperation. "Ain't just you and your Mandies. Then again, ain't exactly easy to unwind when everyone's got a blaster and a temper like a hair trigger."

"Ah, what do I know, I'm the one out here startin' fights over the same thing!" Kotru laughed off his own words, shrugging his shoulders and following those eyes that seemed to match his own so well. His head turned, an arm resting on the back of the chair as he followed his gaze to a Holodart board.

"Y"know what, let's see how good your aim is with four drinks down, Tee. Holodarts."

He would stand up from the counter, rolling a shoulder and hand to beckon her to follow over to one of the free boards, the glimmering blue hologram awaiting the inevitable series of darts from the pair.

@Roobi

 

[Neeka Wren]

"Can you really blame anyone for bein' grim?" Neeka inquired as she gathered up her set of missile-shaped darts and pressed a button beneath the circular board. The Holodart interface thrummed to life and displayed a short introduction before declaring in Aurebesh:

PLAYER ONE:
START

​

"Things are kind of crazy, after all. Feels like everyone is trying extra hard to carve out their little sections of the galaxy. It's like...that smell you get right before a big storm, 'cept in every port. Even the 'Rim gets it now. Weird times."

Externally, Neeka spoke casually and nursed a far-too-sugary drink but internally she cursed herself for even suggesting that they play darts. Even stone-cold sober it had never been quite her game despite her decent accuracy with a blaster and this night was certainly no anomaly. The first two projectiles the Mando tossed sailed a bit low and scored her very few points. The final two nearly redeemed her, but not enough to tug the grumpy frown that followed.

"...osik. I'm...just gettin' warmed up. Yeahh. Welp! You're up."

The warrior made way for her opponent, positioning herself near a table that afforded her both a good view and a small table upon which to rest her drinks. Neeka leaned against it and tucked her arms around her waist.


"So that's my people." She spoke with a smirk as she watched Kotru's flinging. "What 'bout yours? Got any? Or do you just enjoy takin' on jobs where you get shot at?"

@FreelanceGarbageMan

 

[Kotru Eabrod]

"Ehhh, nah." Kotru shrugged a shoulder as he rested an pair of folded on the table to watch Neeka as she started up the board and prepared her own darts. "Can't blame 'em for bein' on edge either. Just gotta roll with the punches, y'feel me?"

Thunk!
Thunk!
Thunk!
Thunk!

PLAYER ONE:
73 PTS​

"Seems a whole lot like it. 'Tween local governments, the big players, pirates, all'a that, everyone's tryin' to give the other the slip. Only so much turf in the galaxy." The wide variance in her aim brought an amused grin to the Zabrak's features. "Leaves plenty of work for people like me, though." When the Mandalorian turned with that dour expression, he smirked back. "Proobably feelin' the alcohol, sister."

A short snicker passes the warrior as he plucked his own darts from the board and stepped back.

PLAYER TWO:
START​

His head tilted to the side slightly, nestling a dart between his fingers and throwing. The first lands just underneath the double ring. The next two land around the sides, earning a mediocre number of points. The final one lands just below the triple ring. A more even spread, not enough to pass but close.

PLAYER TWO:
67 PTS​

When she asked about his people, Kotru's lips pursed in thought. He had not really been part of a crew, much less a family for as long as he had been flying outside of the corps. "Can't really say there's much to speak of. Cops were... y'know, cops. Ain't exactly part of no warrior culture, or family." When he returned, a slight nod indicated it was her turn.

"Guess I just like gettin' shot at." A dry, almost disappointed chuckle escaped his lips as they were wetted by his own sweet and sour drink as he watched her next turn.

@Roobi