The Kolto Caper

[Crim]

Ahto City, Manaan

Midnight...​

A steady rain fell from the Manaan skies, fat drops hitting the pristine water below. A storm rumbled in the night, blocking out the moon. For a world so famous for cloudless days and nights, it sure could rain on Manaan. Ahto City was quiet and sleepy that night, but there were still a few souls out that night. The neon sign of the diner reflected in the rippling puddles. The inside of the diner was quaint and small, with only a few booths and barstools. It was already late, but the diner was open 24/7 (or 26/7 on Maanan). There were a few people in the diner, all of whom politely kept their conversations down to a polite mumble. A Crisp-E-O donut droid wandered through the establishment, walking from table-to-table taking orders or delivering food. It seemed to be one of the few staff working that night. A few Selkath dockworkers huddled around their coffees while a few humans chased some scrambled eggs around with a form, trying to get over a hangover. A Bothan sat alone at a booth, stirring a coffee. On the other side of the diner, a lone human - a gumshoe by the looks of it - sat reading a datapad. He wore a crumpled suit and tie, a dip in his left pocket concealing a blaster pistol. The Bothan was eyeballing him every so often, either bothered or annoyed by the detective's presence.

The sound of pounding rain roaring on the metal roof were momentarily replaced with the sharp pitter patter of rain outside as the door opened. In walked two more people - a Rodian and a Selkath. The Rodian kept a lit cigarette in its star-tier mouth, dragging a trail of smoke behind him. The two sat with the Bothan and began to speak amongst themselves. Even when engaged in conversation, the Bothan still couldn't stop nervously glancing at the cop.

Tarek Lawson was loving every second of this. The Bothan's unease was amusing to the detective. He scrolled through the datapad, feeling eyes on the side of his head. The donut droid made its round to the table to take its order, taking the Bothan's gaze off the detective. Long enough for the man to place a small, black box the size of a piece of gum on the table. Whatever game the cop was playing with the Bothan, it had only just begun.

@Herrith Hendarsin

​

 

[Herrith]

Herrith sat on a small stool next to the bar counter, sipping from a Reactor Core and staving off a terrible headache from spices. She'd felt lost again. Purposeless. But, alas, spices did the trick, after all..!

Who was she kidding? The spices are just delaying her breakdowns of will. Not stopping them.

She.wiped drying tears from bright green eyes and soon took notice of what appeared to be trouble in the cantina. A Bothan staring at a human in what she picked up to probably be suspicion or disgust. Typical.

But the man? He was scrolling through a datapad. Searching? Herrith resisted the urge to check if there was a bounty on her head. No, no. Nobody cared about a nobody. Calm down. But what was that black box sitting on his table?

She clenched a fist and returned to her drink. If it was an explosive or something, then there was sure to be a fight. Soon enough.

Damn this headache!

@Crim

 

[Crim]

"What can I get you, sir?" asked the Crisp-E-O droid. It almost startled the officer, who didn't hear the droid coming. I'm getting old, he thought to himself. "I'll take donuts and coffee," he ordered. The staple of a cop diet. The four-armed droid's belly produced a plate, which the droid whimsically spun it on its finger. It then fired a donut out if its head, catching the warm, glazed donut on the plate and placed it in front of the cop. At the same time, two other hands held a coffee mug under its coffee maker face. The diminutive droid went brrrrrr and poured a steaming cup of coffee.

The droid picked the black box up as it put the cop's order in front of him. "Maybe with less showmanship?" he asked the droid.
"I am programmed to, sir," it responded.

It wasn't; the droid was being an ass. It'd been doing that to people all day. He thinks he's so damn fun y, the cop thought. Anyone else would assume it was an eager droid in need of a memory wipe. A common fault in that model was an enthusiasm loop - an almost obsessive need to please customers. It was fun the first time someone sees a Crisp-E-O droid. It gets old reeeaaalll fast. But no, this droid developed a different bug as it went without a memory wipe.

It became an asshole. His droid was a real jerk and the detective kept him around because it amused him to no end. This time, he was trying to top the restaurant's most bugged droid in showmanship, furthering the enthusiasm loop. Already, the bugged droid's signature tune had added a flourish, and the cop's droid hadn't been working undercover there for long.

The Bothan looked over to the cop. The detective just raised his gaze at the Bothan and went back to his drink. The kid was a murderer. She was worried about law enforcement, as well she should be. But she should be more concerned about the bounty hunters on his trail rather than the police.

There was a Zeltron having a visibly terrible night nearby. The droid moved on to her, the black box hidden in the droid's frame somewhere. "What can I get you?" the Crisp-E-O droid asked her.

@Herrith Hendarsin

 

[Herrith]

"What can I get you?"

Herrith stiffened up for a second, then relaxes slightly as the familiarity of a droid accent was intertwined with the comment. She bit her cheek and turned her head, replying.

"I need a bloody Corellian whiskey. Not a shot glass, I'll pay for the whole kriffing bottle."

Herrith returned to looking at the counter and tried to ignore the human watching her from across the room. She probably looked like utter garbage. Standing out like a sore thumb. In an effort to draw less attention, she lowered her head even more and took a sip from the. bottle of whiskey as well as setting credits on the table.

There was a suspenseful air about the place, almost as if something was going to happen. She subtly turned on her blaster just in case.

 

[Crim]

"Ma'am, this is a diner. We -," the droid began to say before its programming reminded him of the menu. Normally, diners did not carry liquor licenses, but this one seemed to have a particularly popular brand of Corellian whiskey in stock. "Coming right up," the droid said, wheeling around the bar to pull out a bottle. It removed the bottle top, placed it on the counter, and said, "That will be 19 credits."

The cop noticed as the Zeltron ordered a whiskey. At a diner, no less. He made a mental note to see if the place had a liquor license before focusing on the more peculiar part: this Zeltron was drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle like a space pirate fresh from Kessel. In the middle a diner. He smirked - this Zeltron knew how to live: bottle in hand. Moreover, someone like this probably had the moxy to get her hands dirty. Or perhaps she was an unreliable alcoholic. Either way, he wanted to talk to her before that bottle started kicking in. He motioned for the droid to come over. On command, the Crisp-E-O unit turned around, something rattling in its small interior. "Can I help you, sir?" the droid asked in a chipper tone.

"Yeah, I'll buy the dame's drink," he said in a hushed tone.

If the droid could sigh, it would. "It figures you'd want to talk to the one holding a bottle," it said under its 'breath.'

Everyone has a weakness. Tarek's was undoubtedly alcohol. It had soured many friendships, ended partnerships, and led him to more forgotten nights than he could count. The only reason the droid's stuck with him this long was because it was programmed to. Its hardened, jerkass personality certainly helped it deal with Tarek's nights of drinking and shouting.

The droid walked over to the Zeltron and placed the credits back in front of her. "The whiskey is compliments of the human," it said, motioning its head towards Tarek. Should the Zeltron look his way, Tarek would nod at the seat next to him, pointing at it with his eyes as well. The Bothan would notice Tarek going over to talk to someone. Someone sitting near him would raise far less suspicion. Someone who could help him out.

@Herrith Hendarsin

 

[Herrith]

The Zeltron was about to pull out credits for the droid when it spoke with an unusual tone. For a robot.
"The whiskey is compliments of the human."

She immediately knew what human it had been referring to. That guy in the corner that had been eyeing every non-Human within the diner. Herrith guessed either some kind of law enforcement or military. Neither a good option. But considering the circumstances, she doubted he was after her. Who would be? So, the woman picked up her bottle and sat on the chair beside him before popping open her bottle and taking a long sip and setting the bottle down.

There was a pause.
"Can I have a donut?"

 

[Crim]

The cop motioned nonchalantly to the donuts, inviting her to one. He cracked an amused smirk, smiling with tired eyes. He felt the temptation to ask for some whiskey in return slowly creep up from deep down inside him. He ignored it; drinking on the job was a bad idea, especially on this one. He had a bottle of whatever the hell kind of liquor he wanted back on the Scarlet Sparrow waiting for him when he was done with this job. He looked at the datapad for a split second before returning his gaze back to the Zelosian.

The dame was a shade of vibrant pink, with eyes greener than Takodana's rolling hills. Already, she smelled strongly of whiskey. Even with the pink hair, her nose was a rosy shade and she had puffy, wet eyes. The girl had been crying very recently. For a second, Tarek felt like a complete jackass; he should have picked up on that. All that time spent reading people and the gumshoe still hadn't noticed. Still, if he knew people hitting the bottle to get away from something - and he most certainly did - finding a distraction is a good idea. He leaned forward and gripped his coffee with both hands. "Tarek Lawson. Private investigator and captain of the Scarlet Sparrow. I wanna talk to you for minute or two," he said. His accent was a thick, Coronet City accent - he dropped his 'r's and pronounced 'talk' with a diphthong, almost like 'twalk'.

"How ya feelin' about a little detective work, ah? You look like you could use the distraction. I got the creds to pay you for your work. Don't worry, we ain't takin' down someone who doesn't deserve it," he said. He sipped his coffee and looked at the Bothan for a brief second.

"That Bothan over there? She's a murderer," he said, his accent utterly butchering the word 'murderer' into 'marderah.' "Dame's got connections with a Kolto smuggling ring. Business is nice and quiet until that genius decides she's gonna off someone and the Selkath are catchin' on. These, ah, Kolto runners are good guys. They're smuggling Kolto to the Insurgency. I don't wanna bring their operation down, but I also don't want the fish people catchin' 'em. That dame goes to jail? These smugglers are done for, along with Kolto for the Insurgency. I don't like to get caught up in politics, but I got a score to settle with the Empire. The smugglers are good - havin' a hell of a time tryin' to find their base of operations. I'm gonna tail this Bothan to find the base. Problem is, I've been made. I need someone whose face they don't know to tail 'em to their base. I'll be close by, ready to help if you run into any trouble. You in?"

@Herrith Hendarsin

 

[Herrith]

Herrith meant the donut as a lighthearted joke but took one anyways to be courteous, she supposed he'd noticed that she'd experienced a crying fit recently. Like a bloody schoolgirl. So much for professionalism.

"Tarek Lawson. Private investigator and captain of the Scarlet Sparrow. I wanna talk to you for minute or two."

The Zeltron tipped her head in a nod and then replied in her own overly enunciated accent, one not far off from her natural accent from Zeltros.

"Well, Detective Lawson, I'm listening."

Lawson. Appropriate name for his job. The Corellian, as she presumed he was from his accent, continued.
"How ya feelin' about a little detective work, ah? You look like you could use the distraction. I got the creds to pay you for your work. Don't worry, we ain't takin' down someone who doesn't deserve it."

He'd clearly seen her mood. She probably should have cleaned up before going out and about. Ah, well. Credits were involved now. Too late to turn back. She saw the man glance at the Bothan and had a sneaking suspicion about who he'd been referring to.

"That Bothan over there? She's a murderer. Dame's got connections with a Kolto smuggling ring. Business is nice and quiet until that genius decides she's gonna off someone and the Selkath are catchin' on. These, ah, Kolto runners are good guys. They're smuggling Kolto to the Insurgency. I don't wanna bring their operation down, but I also don't want the fish people catchin' 'em. That dame goes to jail? These smugglers are done for, along with Kolto for the Insurgency. I don't like to get caught up in politics, but I got a score to settle with the Empire. The smugglers are good - havin' a hell of a time tryin' to find their base of operations. I'm gonna tail this Bothan to find the base. Problem is, I've been made. I need someone whose face they don't know to tail 'em to their base. I'll be close by, ready to help if you run into any trouble. You in?"

Kolto smugglers for the Insurgency. Perfect. And she could be unrecognized. Quite easily.

"I'm in, love."

She smiled and took a long swig of whiskey.