Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector

[Amara Selanno]

Warehouse District 13

Amara sighed and ran her hand over the bandana that held most of her blue-black hair out of her eyes. Despite the red handkerchief around her head, occasionally a few strands of hair would fall into her blue eyes, causing her to grumble in irritation and tuck them behind her ears. Baggy patchwork coveralls covered her pale skin, due to the chilly temperature in the Vertical City, and the only places where her skin was visible were her hands and face. The R2 astromech unit in front of her noticed her hesitation as she sat in front of it thinking and whistled a question. “No, I’m not stuck. I’m just trying to figure out how to reach the capacitor without opening up another panel and letting more dust into your casing.”

The droid cooed at her sadly. Amara leaned back to balance on the heel of her boots as she considered the droid’s question. He was right, of course. There was no way she would be able to reach it. Then again, when was the last time she had listened to anyone but herself? Amara shrugged. “One last try,” she said to the droid. She reached in with her right hand, trying to maneuver the hydrospanner into position to enable her to tighten the three bolts that were rattling around next to the astromech’s primary capacitor. As she did, however, it squealed and tried to pull away from her. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to-hey!”

The hydrospanner slipped from her fingers and clanked down into the droid’s casing, drawing several indignant beeps from her subject. “Okay, okay! Sorry!” Amara said, reaching a callused hand down into the shell, trying to feel around for the tool without touching anything that was carrying a charge. Usually it was dangerous to work on a droid that was still active, but in the past she’d only suffered mild electrical burns. Besides, it was helpful if a ‘patient’–Amara’s word for the droids she spent her days repairing–could walk her through the problem and its symptoms as she was working, instead of having to guess and check–

A mild buzzing feeling ran through Amara’s fingertip when it came into contact with something. She jerked it away, but not in time to avoid the shock that sent a slight spasm through her hand. It bumped against the inside of the casing, eliciting another series of berating noises from the astromech. “Sithspawn!” she cursed as she drew her hand out of the droid to reveal a patch of darkened skin on the tip of her middle finger. Amara stuck the burned digit in her mouth before shaking it off and reaching for the burn gel. The R2 unit spun its head at her and made a soft raspberry noise. As she squeezed a dollop of gel on her fingertip, Amara glared at it. “Shut up, you. Or better yet, shut down.” The R2 made another raspberry noise and spun its head away from her.

“Still having trouble, girl?”

Oh, Sithspit. Not him.

“I am now,” she retorted as she turned to face the burly Nautolan leaning in the doorway of her shed. “Buzz off, Teedee.”

Teedee snorted and popped one of the joints in his neck, making a sickening crack. “Oh, that’s funny.” He stood upright and slowly entered the shed, his glossy black eyes taking in the entire room at once. A deep scar ran all the way from the bridge of his nose to his brow, disappearing underneath his head-tails. One of the snake-like appendages was amputated just above where the scar slid underneath it and ended. Several others were adorned with rings or elaborate tattoos that seemed to writhe whenever the head-tails shifted. “For a second there, it sounded like you wanted me to leave, girl.”

Amara’s hand trembled for a second. She willed it to stop, but Teedee noticed anyway. “Don’t worry, girl. I’m not here for you.” He grinned. “Just here delivering a message. Grudo’s servant droid got busted in a bar brawl yesterday, and he wants it fixed. Specifically asked for you.” His grin widened. “Should be honored.”

Amara’s stare hardened at the mention of the Hutt. “Yeah, I’m flattered,” she grumbled. “But I can’t go. I’ve got two customers already waiting on these–” she waved at the astromech and a pair of ancient loadlifters in the corner next to her bunk, “and besides, Grudo’s still holding out on me for the last job I did for him. He doesn’t get anything until he pays.” Refusing a Hutt wasn’t the best way to live a long and happy life, but Amara was tired of the fat slug dragging her all over the district whenever one of his droids broke a bolt. And he did owe her.

Teedee’s smile faded. He crossed his thick arms and stared her down. She held her gaze. “Well, aren’t you a little bargainer,” he growled threateningly. “Maybe I should tell Grudo he needs to send his ‘friends’ to pay you a visit. See if you change your mind.” His grin returned, crueler than ever. “Maybe your big brother won’t be here to take care of you this time.” Amara gulped slightly at the mention of the Hutt’s goons, but she refused to give ground. She mirrored Teedee’s stance and didn’t look away. “Get out.” Teedee gave her one last intimidating look before turning around and leaving. The faulty hydraulic door slid shut behind him and bounced back open a few centimeters. Through it, she heard the Nautolan shout back, “You picked the wrong day to frak with Grudo, girl! He’ll have your hide this time!” The alien laughed. “Who knows, maybe I’ll get your brother as part of the deal!” Then he was gone.

As soon as she heard the turbolift door close, Amara slumped back onto her workbench, scattering parts and tools to the floor. Great Gods of Corell, I hate that snake so much, she thought to herself. As was quickly becoming her habit, she checked that the blaster in her belt was still there. Reassured by the firepower at her hip, she returned to work on the R2. “Okay, hold still while I open up this panel.”

Destiny

[Amara Selanno]

Slugger's Den

Amara hung feet-first in the ventilation shaft and tried not to breathe.

Below her, one of Slugger’s guards was making a slow sweep of the garage. The glowrod attached to his blaster rifle cast an eerie light over the small mountains of parts that took up most of the room. If he’d simply looked straight up he would have seen her half dangling out of the shaft. As it was, the toes of her shoes were only a few meters above the beam from his glowrod. She just hoped that he was a stereotypical bored security guard who was never expecting trouble. Her arms were burning from the exertion of holding herself up, and she mentally thanked her brother for running her through that defense course all those years ago. Staying fit on Nar Shaddaa was good for your health in more ways than one.

The guard made one last sweep with his light before shutting the door and locking it. Amara waited until his footsteps faded away before letting go of the pipe she’d jammed into the walls of the vent shaft. She fell five meters and absorbed the shock of the landing by bending her knees and rolling, narrowly missing one of the junk piles. Amara lay still, waiting to see if the guard had still been within earshot, and when ten seconds passed and nothing happened, she stood and flicked on the glowband strapped around her forehead. Slowly she began sweeping the room, her eyes scanning for the parts she’d come for–the parts she was risking her life for, because if Slugger’s men found her trespassing and stealing his merchandise she’d soon wish she had taken a long walk off the short end of a skyscraper.

Amara caught a glimpse of something near the midline of one of the junk piles, and she swept her light back over it, hoping it was what she had come for. There it was, an industrial-grade servomotor, the second one she’d found so far. Quietly she picked her way through the nightmare collection of parts, trying not to make any noise that would echo until she reached the servomotor. She gently eased it out of the pile, wincing as it clinked against the other parts. Amara unbuttoned the backpack she’d brought with her and placed the servomotor in with the other one. It fit nice and snug, preventing it from shifting and making any noise. She sighed softly, relieved that she was finished, and turned to climb back into the vent shaft.

Her toe kicked a durasteel coil, and it skittered across the floor before rolling to a stop at the door.

Frak!

Amara slid behind a salvage pile just as the door hissed open and the guard entered, his weapon drawn and the glowrod activated. When his boot kicked the coil, he looked down and shouldered his blaster rifle. “Damn it, I’m not gonna get any sleep tonight.” He reached down for the part and tossed it into the closest pile before leaving the garage again. Amara counted to five and stood, glaring at her treacherous feet. It took her two minutes to return to the open shaft, and another three to clamber her way up into it. By the time she reached the vent cover, two hours had passed since she’d entered Slugger’s compound. She emerged from the hole and was replacing the cover when a small red dot appeared on the wall above her head.

Amara whirled and looked around for the source of the dot, fearing it was some kind of sniper. Instead, it was from an automated security holocam. The camera had registered her presence and was no doubt blasting an alarm at Slugger right now.

“Damn it!” she hissed. No time to worry now, she had to get clear before they closed the net on her. Her speeder bike should still be sitting around the corner in an alleyway. Amara sprinted towards the safety railing and took a left into a garbage-ridden alley. Behind the dumpster was the bike. Without hesitating she jumped on and flicked the starter. For once, the bike whirred to life on the first try. She zipped out of the alleyway and above walkway level just as the first alarms began blaring in the compound.

Once she had caught her breath, Amara knew she was in serious trouble. Slugger knew her face and already hated her for simply being competition; he’d have no qualms about shoving this in Grudo’s face. Coupled with her general defiance of Grudo’s goons and her specific insolence towards him, the Hutt would no doubt have a four-digit price on her head by morning.

Her life on Nar Shaddaa was over.

Amara bit her lip and steered the bike towards the residential area. It was time to see her brother.

Destiny

[Daegon Selanno]

Jorji’s Hive

They should have named this place Jorji’s Dive, Daegon thought to himself. It would have fit the place better.

He was drunk, there was no doubt, even to his liquor-addled brain. He was drunk and everyone in the bar knew it, which was probably why they gave him so much space to himself. Even without the mismatched armor plates covering his torso, the slugthrower holstered to his waist, and the curved dagger sheathed above the seat of his pants, Daegon was an intimidating sight. He wasn’t physically imposing or particularly tall, but there was something about his walk and his stance that threatened violence if someone so much as spit in front of him. His lean stare, unshaven face, and rakishly cut hairstyle all added to this effect.

At least, they would've if he wasn’t half-unconscious and drowned in Whyren’s Reserve.

Daegon hardly noticed when the waiter droid buzzed over on its repulsorlifts to refill his glass and take away the two empty bottles of whiskey. He managed to conjure up enough clarity to place his hand over the glass, signaling that he was done for the night. The droid burbled an acknowledgement and collected the glass along with the bottles before zooming away. Daegon rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and stood. Or rather, attempted to stand. After apologizing to the table behind him and paying for the spilled drinks, he staggered out of the bar and onto the street. Lights and sounds threatened to overwhelm his senses, but several years of living on Nar Shaddaa helped him learn to deal with the impending headache.

Daegon reached into a hip pocket and pulled out a small red pill. From another, he found a packet of water. He swallowed the pill and poked a hole in the packet with his fingernail, draining the cool liquid down his throat to wash down the anti-depressant. Minutes later he was approaching a state resembling sober and his headache was still nowhere to be seen. Daegon glanced at the chrono on his wrist and wasn’t surprised to learn that it was only a few hours before dawn. With no smuggling job or particular bounty he was interested in, he could probably get in a decent amount of sleep. That happy thought didn’t last long.

“Hey, Selanno!”

There went his chances of sleeping tonight.

Daegon grumbled a Corellian curse that his mother would have paled at and turned to the sound of the voice. “Frakking hell, what is it now–” He stopped in midsentence when he saw the four armed beings arrayed in a semicircle before him. In their hands were blasters of various makes and models, confirming his suspicion that they were mercenaries. Of course, if you’re armed and you’re on Nar Shaddaa, you’re either a merc or an MP, and the latter don’t usually last long. Daegon hooked his thumbs in his belt, careful to keep his right hand near his slugthrower and his left near the knife on his belt. They wouldn’t be able to see the blade, concealed as it was by his body, and that bought him a few extra options.

“Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” he asked, his tone neutral.

Before any of them could answer, a raspy voice floated over them. “You can pay me the money you stole from me, street rodent!” An aged Toydarian flew up from behind the mercs and hovered just in front of them, crossing its arms, one mechanical. “It’s not possible for someone to get Pure Sabaac two games in a row! Unless you use skifters!” Daegon glared at the winged alien. He wasn’t about to claim that he never used skifters, of course, but he had won those games fair and square. For this punk to suggest otherwise was provoking violence. Of course, with four sets of weapons pointed in his general direction, he couldn’t really carry that out without consequences. So he waited for the Toydarian’s tirade to end.

“So let’s have it! All nine thousand, cash credits, right now!”

Daegon thought about drawing his slugthrower, but decided against it. Those blasters probably weren’t for show. “Klakko, come on. Let’s work this out like civilized men.” When the Toydarian sniffed in contempt, he hastily added, “Well, civilized beings, that is.”

Klakko pointed a fat finger at him. “Don’t try to talk your way out of this one, Selanno! It’s my money or your hide!” At this, the mercenaries raised their weapons. “I’m beginning to think I can get more for your hide!” One of the mercs gestured with his blaster, and Daegon raised his hands from his belt. The same man stepped forward, rifle still trained, to relieve him of his gun. Fortunately, he didn’t find the vibrodagger. “Last chance, Selanno,” Klakko warned.

Daegon grinned. “Frak you, batbrain.”

Klakko’s jaw dropped. “What?!” he screeched. “What did you just call me, you…you scum-sucker?!” The blue winged alien buzzed forward into Daegon’s face, apparently comforted by the fact that his gun was in the mercenaries’ hands. Even as Klakko regained his composure, he continued to yell. “If you don’t shut your ugly pink muzzle for once in your life I swear on my grandfather’s grave I’ll have Bogo here find your sister and-Agck!”

Daegon abruptly grabbed Klakko by the neck and spun him around, pinning the Toydarian’s wings to his chest while drawing the dagger and pressing the blade to Klakko’s neck. “You swear, huh? Well, I swear, Klakko,” he hissed into the Toydarian’s ear, “If you ever threaten my sister again…if you even mention her again–” He applied a slight amount of pressure to Klakko’s neck, drawing a small drop of blood onto the knife. “You won’t live to regret it.” Klakko had gone deathly still, the only movement visible the rise and fall of his chest. Daegon looked up at the mercenaries. “Drop your weapons or your boss gets to experience being shishkabobed alive.”

Klakko nodded vigorously. “Yes! Do as he says!” The four lowered their blasters and set them on the ground, and Daegon nodded. “Good. Now, my gun. Slide it over.” The man who had taken his slugthrower knelt with it in one hand and slid the weapon across the metal walkway. Daegon caught it beneath his foot. He let go of Klakko with one hand and reached down for his slugthrower. Never tell me the odds, he thought. I’ll beat ‘em anyway.

With a knife at his throat and his four hired goons held at gunpoint, Klakko finally realized that he was in a bad position. “Daegon, buddy, let’s work this out like civilized beings-Urk!” He suddenly found himself with a lack of air as Daegon flexed his arm. “Let’s get one thing straight, Klakko,” he whispered. “I can kill you right here, right now, and your thugs over there wouldn’t give a damn. Or, I can let you go, and you can stay the hell away from me and my sister for the rest of your life. And as a bonus, I’ll throw in a few credits. Sound like a fair deal?”

With no other option, Klakko nodded. Daegon released his grip on the avian and kept his gun trained on him. “You may as well scatter,” he yelled to the mercenaries. “Whatever money he said he’d pay you with he doesn’t have.” Remembering his deal, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a hundred-credit chit and tossed it to Klakko. The wheezing Toydarian juggled it for a moment before catching it. He turned and stared into the face of the lead mercenary. “Oh, uh, hey there boys. See, that is, I don’t exactly have the money on me right now…”

Daegon returned his knife and gun to his belt and rounded the corner, chuckling to himself. He jiggled the fresh credit coins in his pocket as he walked, glad to hear the sound of cold hard cash for once. He was about halfway to his apartment when a familiar voice caught his attention from behind.

“Daegon?”

He froze. It was a voice he’d known since his childhood, one that he hadn’t heard in months.

Daegon turned slowly to face his younger sister. “Amy?” he asked, not quite believing it.

She looked almost the same as the last time he’d seen her: was dressed in an old bantha-hide jacket over ragged coveralls, with a red bandana tied back her blue hair, contrasting with it nicely and keeping most of it out of her face. Scratched welding goggles rested over the bandana, allowing him to see her blue eyes. A pair of fingerless gloves hid the calluses on her palm, but revealed that one of her fingers was bandaged. Burn gel leaked out of the edges, and he deduced she’d hurt it working on her droids.

“It’s me, big brother,” Amara Selanno said. She abruptly rushed forward and gave him a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder. Daegon was taken aback for a moment, but then he found himself placing his hands on her back and returning the embrace. His younger sister looked up at him. “I need your help.”

Destiny

_________________
Captain Daegon Selanno - Fringe Scum, Bounty Hunter, Smuggler

"I applaud your efforts. And now that you've insulted me, called me a heretic, threatened to burn me and questioned my gender, I'm completely on board." - Jess

[Daegon Selanno]

This joint post is brought to you by Me, Myself, and I.

Apartment AA-23 (Daegon)

Daegon quickly entered the combination on the keypad, then shouldered the door open. He held it open long enough for Amara to slip inside before closing it and resetting the locks. As an added measure, he lowered the thick metal bar he’d installed so that it braced the door closed; on the Smuggler’s Moon, it paid to be careful. And alive.

His apartment wasn’t much to look at; a two-tier set of bunk beds sat against the far wall of the single-room home. The left wall was taken up by a countertop and utility cooker, and a rectangular depression in the right wall held a small table. Old clothes and other nicknacks were scattered on the floor, and for a moment he felt a slight embarrassment as he watched his sister pick her way to the bunk. Daegon clamped down on it just as Amara drop down onto his bed as he realized that she was used to worse at her own workshop. He chose to lean against the door instead of take the only chair in the room. “So what seems to be the trouble?”

Amara puffed up her cheeks and blew out a sigh. “Grudo’s getting his tail in a knot about his droids again. Sent Teedee to try to convince me that I should pay more attention to the Hutt instead of my regulars–” Daegon’s eyes narrowed. “That son of a kath hound? I thought I scared him off planet.” He unconsciously took out his knife and began twirling it in his fingers. “Maybe next time I need to cut something else off.”

Amara shook her head. “Don’t. That’ll just piss him off even more. Anyway, he said he was going to get some of Grudo’s goons to come back tomorrow and ‘convince’ me…and I think we both know what he means by that.” She shifted slightly on the bed, and Daegon’s fist closed tightly around the hilt of his vibrodagger. He remembered the last time Teedee had tried to ‘convince’ Amara of something…

Not really that long ago, in a warehouse not very far away... (Amara)

“Teedee, I’m warning you. Stay back.”

The grinning Nautolan advanced on Amara, his intent obvious as he removed his sleeveless shirt and tossed it aside. He swayed slightly as he walked forward, and an obvious odor of alcohol filled the shed, a clear sign he’d been hitting the cantinas hard. His glossy black eyes seemed out of focus as they tried to keep a straight view of Amara. As he drew closer, she backed away, hands reaching behind her for something, anything, to use as a weapon. Her fingers closed on a crowbar, and she held it behind her back, knowing that if Teedee saw it he would go berserk. Her only chance was to wait until he was closer…closer…

Teedee’s progress slowed as he reached the tables of droid parts. At first he tried to slide his way around them, but eventually he grew tired of the delays and settled for tipping them out of his way. A horrendous crashing noise followed each table’s upending, but Amara didn’t wince, didn’t take her eyes off of the Nautolan. He was within a few meters of her, and suddenly she thought, What if I can’t knock him out? What if he gets angry? Two meters now, and as another table was overturned she began to sweat. Should have bought a blaster, I am such an idiot for not buying a blaster–

Teedee was barely a meter away now, but just as Amara prepared to swing the crowbar from behind her back a shrill whistle rang through the shed. Teedee grunted and covered one ear with a webbed hand before turning around to face her brother standing in the doorway of the shed. “Wha’ you wan’, dirt-licker? Can’ Ah have uh minu’e to mahself affer uh hard day’s–” He paused to hiccup, then seemed to forget what he was saying and settled for waving a hand in Daegon’s general direction. He turned back to Amara, who again prepared to knock him over the head when Daegon spoke. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, squidhead. Not unless I wanted to lose a few tentacles.”

This set Teedee off. “Well, yur not me, dirt-licker! Ah’m gon’ do what Ah wan’, when Ah want, an’ no scum-sucking, bottom-feeder Cor’lian is gonna stop me!” He turned to face Daegon, but ended up spinning around more than he wanted to and had to grab a table for support. As Teedee took a step towards him, he continued rambling. “Ah’m in the, employmen’ of the hon’rble Grudo the Hu’, and ‘less you wan’ me tuh askum tuh knock you off yur perch, I suggess you shuddup.” The difficulty of piecing together such a sentence while drunk was causing Teedee to sweat, but he gathered the nerve to spit in front of Daegon. Amara saw her brother’s eyes narrow and knew that in five minutes or less, Teedee was going to wish he hadn’t insulted him that way.

Before the Nautolan could turn back to Amara, Daegon vaulted over the overturned table separating them, drew his knife, and pressed it to Teedee’s throat in a single fluid motion. Even Amara was stunned by the speed and ferocity in which he’d moved. Teedee seemed to sober within seconds. “Hey, hey, Daegon, buddy! I was just messing around, y’know? Just having a little bit of fun.” He flashed Amara a grin over his shoulder, but all he received in return was a frosty glare.

Daegon wasn’t so easily calmed. “I warned you to stay the hell away from her, you drunken squid. Maybe all that alcohol’s gone to your ears.” He pressed slightly with the knife, but Teedee’s leathery skin refused to break. The effect was still the same. Teedee’s attention was completely on Daegon now. “Or maybe I need to beat the words into you.”

Amara saw a flash of something from Teedee’s belt and cried out a warning. “Look out!”

Daegon jumped back barely in time to avoid a slash from a wicked-looking vibroblade. Something spattered on the floor of her shed, and she saw that one of Daegon’s sleeves had been torn open. A thin red line appeared on his forearm. He glanced down and saw the slight wound, then returned his attention to Teedee, who was lazily tracing a pattern in the air with his own knife. “You’ll pay for that.” Daegon flipped the dagger into the air and caught it by the handle before taking a few steps forward. “This is my favorite jacket.”

They lunged at each other, throwing punches and thrusting with their knives. The duel took several minutes, but it was clear who the victor would be. The only surprise was the method Daegon used to disarm Teedee. As the bleeding and tired Nautolan brought his knife up for a final, desperate strike Daegon spun out of the way and came up behind him. His knife flashed impossibly fast and Teedee screamed, clutching at the bloody stump where one of his head-tails had been. Amara saw the flailing tentacle plop down on the floor a meter in front of her and fought the urge to retch. Teedee snarled, fighting back tears as he stumbled to the door. Daegon planted a boot in his back and helped him through.

Amara was still staring at the severed appendage writhing on the floor of her workshop. Daegon walked over and poked at it with the toe of his boot before picking it up and tossing it out an open window. “Good riddance.”

Apartment AA-23 (Still Amara)

Amara drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees as she remembered that night. It had been one of the last times she’d spoken with her brother before he’d gone off in search of a new bounty.

“So why is he really after you?” Daegon asked her. Amara tried feigning ignorance, but Daegon shook his head. “One of these days I gotta give you lessons on lying, sis. Because you really suck at it.” He continued to stare at her expectantly, and when she didn’t reply he rolled his eyes. “Amara, Grudo’s an idiot, but he’s not that stupid. He wouldn’t put a bounty on you over something this small.” Daegon put down the ale bottle and crossed his arms. “Spill it. What’d you do to piss him off?”

Amara drooped her head and sighed. “I…I was working on one of the load lifters for a customer when I ran out of industrial-grade servomotors. I was low on credits and the only ones in the entire sector were in Slugger’s stash, so I–”

“You stole them from Slugger.” It wasn’t a question.

Amara looked up. “…Yes. I got away mostly clean, but one of his holocams caught me on the way out of his garage and he squealed to Grudo. Now he’s decided that I’m worth more to him in a cell or a body bag.”

Daegon thought for a moment, something he’d been doing more often of late. It wasn’t the fact that Amara had stolen the parts to begin with that worried him. He’d have done worse–hell, he probably would have just threatened Slugger for the parts in the first place. The problem was that Slugger was Grudo’s favorite swoop mechanic, and stealing from him was just as bad as lifting some of Grudo’s credits. Now the Hutt meant business.

Daegon leaned back and rested his elbows on the counter behind him. “So you want me to get you off Nar Shaddaa, and smoke any of Grudo’s men who come after you.” He grinned and resumed pouring the ale. “Good. A few ‘em have some worthwhile marks on their scum heads. I’ve been itching for some target practice.” Amara rocked forward and stood up. She walked towards the counter and took the bottle of ale from Daegon’s hand and raised it to her mouth, draining a good portion of it before lowering it and wiping her mouth with her sleeve. He stared at her. She said, “Enough with the bravado already, Daegon. You and I both know Grudo’s got more men than you have bullets. If you stay, he’ll either grab you or kill you just to get to me.” Amara leaned forward and hugged him. “I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to lose another part of the family.”

Daegon sighed and put down the glass of ale. He stared at the ceiling, counting the number of rotations in the fan as he considered her words. She’s right. Their only option was to burn out of Nar Shaddaa, but when they did that they would be gone for good. Grudo might have the intelligence of a mentally retarded Gamorrean, but he knew how to hold a grudge. For life. He looked down and began stroking Amara’s hair, just like he had back on Corellia when they were both children. It had been black then, but she’d dyed it when they’d first arrived on the Smuggler’s Moon. Somehow it seemed to look natural in the artificial lights of the sprawling city-world.

“Where will we go?” Amara buried her head in his jacket, but her next words were crystal clear to him. “Home.”

Destiny

_________________
Captain Daegon Selanno - Fringe Scum, Bounty Hunter, Smuggler

"I applaud your efforts. And now that you've insulted me, called me a heretic, threatened to burn me and questioned my gender, I'm completely on board." - Jess

[Badim Soilding]

Badim, Clare, and their newest crewmember Diann, exited The Killer’s Fate and walked on the metal flooring beneath them. Shaddaa was a buzz with people and noise. People were getting back to their regular routine of work or unemployment. The celebrations were over and it was time for people to get back to it. The first thing Badim needed to do was see his foster-parents. To tell them the lies he’s been telling them. They thought he was just a desk-jockey for Blas-Tech Industries’ local branch on Nar Shaddaa. When he left – He didn’t tell them that he was leaving, or for what it was for. It was for their own safety he thought. But later realized that it was stupid for him to leave, that he’d leave them open to an attack.
“Badim,” Clare asked, nudging him on his shoulder, “Where are we going?” All he did was glance at her; it was of disgust. Not towards her, but to himself. Being back on Nar Shaddaa, it felt wrong, he could literally look all over the place, and mark locations of his kills. No… Murders.
Clare’s motives were good. But not well received to him at this time. But he had to say something.
“We’re going to my Foster-parent’s Apartment,” He replied, grief began to fill his voice; “I need to tell them the truth. For the past seven years, I’ve been lying to them. If I’m going to move forward, I need to redeem my deeds.”

That didn’t stop him from carrying his weapons, though. Neither with Clare or Diann. Nar Shaddaa was a dangerous place, how so many people live with the danger was beyond him.
“Okay, I’d like to see them. From what you’ve told me, they’re the best foster-parents one could have.” Clare replied joyfully, trying to cheer him up. A good attempt, but no Gizka.
“We’ll see.” He looked over his other shoulder, Diann was lost in her own world, looking up in awe of the Towering city. A faint smile was on her face.
“Enjoying the view?” She didn’t divert her eyes, locked in the beauty of the high-rises,
“It’s been so long… I used to come here a lot. Before I stopped on Kashyyyk, sold my ship and stayed in the Shadowlands.” Clare turned her attention away from Diann, hoping to keep the movement subtle so Badim wouldn’t pick up on her disgust of Diann. But being a past Assassin, his senses were honed, he knew.
“How long ago was that?”
“I was on Nar Shaddaa for most of my childhood. Then seven years ago, I left with my father’s ship, stolen of course. Changed the IFF, and I was free. After traveling for five years, I landed on Kashyyyk, sold My ship and stayed there until you two arrived two days ago.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes, very riveting,” Clare replied sarcastically, “Badim, where exactly is your foster-parents apartment?”
“It’s about seven standard blocks away. We should reach it in no time.”

Blaster fire could be heard to up ahead, far away though. “What’s that?” Diann asked.
“I suspect it’s the remnants of Dirod’s Crime Order, vying for Dirod’s spot.”
“Why? What happened?”
“You wanna know why my ship is called, ’The Killer’s Fate’?”
“Why?”
“I killed Dirod about a week ago.” Diann didn’t reply, stunned almost. That Badim had the means to kill such a big crime lord. He was so big, he was a suspect in nearly any murder that happened in the Duros and Corellian Sectors. But the Republic could never prove it. Or his spice smuggling either. The gun fire seemed to get closer and closer, but was actually farther than they thought. The local police should be able to handle it, they reassured themselves.

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

Sara Soto

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

Badim and his comrades walked down the alleyways along their way to his foster-parents home. It’d been a week since they last saw him. It was going to be a worrisome reunion he concluded, with them not seeing him in over a week, they would have been worried sick. And the reaction to Badim’s true occupation would surely put them into a heart attack. Or near one he’d hope. But as they got close to the apartment complex, things weren’t right. He saw a group of ten weequays in formation around someone. Who was looking at the dead corpses of-
“No…” His foster parents, “Brenna… Jaalib…” Clare and Diann were running towards him, they’d lost him in the crowd before just a second ago.
“Hey, Badim!” Diann yelled out, though, this couldn’t be heard by the weequays or the person within their formation, “What’s… Up…” She saw the two dead bodies, as did Clare. His whole world collapsed, whoever that person was beneath all those weequays, was dead. More than dead, he would personally make sure he was delivered to Mustafar, dipped in the molten lava there and then send him to Hell in whatever form he remained in.
“Badim…” Clare began, but Badim interrupted saying.
“Whoever that man or alien is… He won’t be alive very long. You both got your weapons?” Clare un-holstered her blaster, checked its clip and nodded. Diann un-holstered her duel DC-17 hand blasters. Obsolete, but effective in combat situations like this.
“Follow me.” He said bitterly, his voice fully of it. He walked up to the formation, if one of them so much as fired a shot, they’d be dead. He stopped when he was in speaking distance to the man, with his back turned to him.
“Who are you?” He said, the weequays became startled and jumped at Badim’s words. They held their fire, realized it was the famous Assassin himself and lowered their weapons to a standby stance. The man just spoke in a familiar alien voice.
“Ah… I thought this would bring you out of hiding. How long has it been since we last met? I just woke up today.” The alien said.
“What?” Badim simply replied, “Nevermind that, you are going to pay for what you’ve done!”
“Really now?” The alien said, turning around, “How can you make me pay, when you can’t even kill me?”
“No…”
“Who is it?” Clare asked, straightening her aim towards the alien.
“Urnath Dirod.”
“What?!” Clare exclaimed, in total disbelief that they were up against a ghost.
“Surprised? So am I.” Dirod said.
“I killed you! I saw you die!” Badim brought out his E-11 and pointed it at his murderous smirk. Dirod just smiled and snapped his fingers together; his weequay guards pointed their weapons at them.
“You left too soon, my dead Assassin. My guards came in and got me to my medic before I died. Apparently, they had a terrible time during the New Year, so they concluded that guard duty was better than the New Year, and came back just in time to get me to-” He paused, an even bigger smile appearing on his face, “Well, you know the rest.”
“I will have to finish the job then, and it won’t be for me, it will be for my parents.”
“Don’t you mean your former foster-parents?”
“No, they were the only family I had. Now this will be for them.” He pulled the trigger and his blaster bolt went straight and true, almost guided by Justice itself. Dirod fell to his knees, dead. Finally and Truly dead. His weequay guards looked at the smoldering hole in his head before he fell forward; then looked at Badim, Clare and Diann. Their only source of payroll gone, were looking to blow off their steam on the three. Who could blame them? Three-to-Ten, seemed hopelessly unfair?

It was.
For them…

Badim wanted to give them a chance and replied to their action, “Leave now, or your deaths will be swift.”
They didn’t back down, loading their blasters. Badim was about to reply to that action as well, until Diann took the words right out of his mouth,
“He warned you.” Of course, she fired the first shot. She brought down her left arm and nailed on in the face, she quickly brought down her right arm and killed one with a shot to the neck. Shots were traded, bolts were dodged until the only victor in sight, were Badim and his crewmembers. There was one left, Badim gave him a chance. He dropped his blaster and ran for his life. Clare pointed her own blaster, only to have Badim put his hand on it and lower it.
“Let’m go. He didn’t pick this fight, the others did.”

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

Sara Soto

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Clare Velez]

The fight was over; the police would certainly show up here in about five minutes. Clare holstered her blaster and just stood there, alongside Diann. As they both watched Badim walk up to the dead body of Dirod. He brought out his vibroknife, and slit Dirod’s throat. Making sure this time that he wouldn’t come back to haunt him. Then cleaned the blood off the blade and put it back into its sleeve. Then walked over the dead corpses of his true parents, as he put it. He closed their still open eyes, and mournfully straightened their stiff bodies. He ripped off apart of his cloak, felt Jaalib’s pockets, and found a pen. He quickly wrote something on the piece of cloth and placed it on Jaalib’s chest. Then Badim stood up and began to walk away, only to look back once more. Knowing he’d never see them again, except for their tombstones. He walked past her and Diann. His head hung low. Diann had a tear run down her cheek. Clare and Diann both realized Badim was going back to the ship and followed him.
“Diann?” Clare asked,
“Yeah?”
“Welcome aboard The Killer’s Fate.”

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

Sara Soto

[Badim Soilding]

(Had to skip the transport ride, couldn’t come up with anything)

Badim, Diann and Clare stepped out of the transport from Rhen Var and onto the slums of Nar Shaddaa. Once again. No matter how hard Badim tried, he couldn’t stay away from it. His eye caught Diann, as she rubbed the bandages on her arm. Shoved through a control stick, damn, he muttered to himself, Those Jedi could heal almost anything.
All Clare had is a bruised temple. Diann is tougher than she looks.
They walked towards the Orange Lady, a popular bar in this sector, and where he killed Warir’kar several years earlier. His face was almost rearranged with that wookie, let alone left intact. He was lucky to come out of that with just a few scars.
He placed a hand on his stomach, he’d survived the crash of The Killer’s Fate, and was able to walk around by pure determination for his crewmates. If it weren’t for that Nik Starskimmer picking up on their scent and getting the whole team out of there, they would still be frozen out on Rhen Var.
That Vucora lady was kind enough to let them catch a ride on a shuttle leaving Rhen Var. It was heading to Dantooine, but after a request from Badim, she allowed a quick drop-off at Nar Shaddaa.

He had enough connections here that he could pull strings and get his crew a ship. Hopefully.
But first he’d need to reconnect with those connections. And they mostly hung out at the Orange Lady.
The familiar smell of booze and cigar smoke filled Badim’s nostrils. It was surprisingly empty, give or take a few tables. He began to turn, not much use in staying if there wasn’t anything of use or interest to Badim.

"What are we going to do, Badim?" Diann asked, Badim shook his head, then looked up, having thought of a method to get them off Shaddaa.
"We're going to go meet a friend of mine," he reminiced, then turned to his torn, bloody clothes and recommended, "But first I need some new clothes, these bloody rags might draw a bit of attention..."

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

Sara Soto

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

The crew of the late Killer’s Fate walked through a local marketplace… Shopping. Badim was glanced at a few times by the crowd they walked in, a typical response to seeing a man in bloody clothes, but they soon continued on their way when they saw his hail skin underneath the open hole in his shirt. He spied a small storefront with hanging fabrics of all colors and makes, of which were waving in a subtle breeze of a passing speeder soaring above them. He spotted one with a light grey body and elegant white lines curving all along the torso of it. He leaned in and upon closer inspection, he realized it was customized light battle armor, made for use by a scout or a runner from the age old Galactic Civil War. Perfect for Badim, seeing as how he seemed to be getting into one precarious situation to another; from the Terentatek battle to the Crash of the Fate. But it would also allow him freedom to move quickly and gracefully. So he picked it up and it also had a hood and a strapped leather-covered sheet of duraplastic. He bought the set along with a pair of brown trousers and gloves. Luckily, there was a fitting room in the back of the store, he stripped his clothes inside and donned his new guise. He took his old, bloody garments and wrapped the pure red fabric around his waist as a reminder at how close he came to death, and survived.

He exited the tent with his hood donned and flexed his arms to his crew in such a way, as if to say, What do you think? They nodded and gave their opinions and approvals on the new look. Clare, of which, declared her praise of it, stating, “Better than the first.”

Badim nodded and replied, “Let’s get going.” They exited the tent and Diann couldn’t help but ask where they were going.
“The local Communications Hub in this sector. I need to contact a Tsenaca Lowry-Fink. I ran a mission with her while I still worked for Dirod five years ago, before she stopped searching Shaddaa for someone,” he reminisced, realizing he had done the same thing with Sara just a few days ago, “We had finished the mission, killing a Rodian named Lodi Celis. One of his body guards ran in behind Tsenaca and was about ready to shoot her… Before he dropped dead of course,” he paused, trying to get through a blockade of people through the marketplace then continued, “She looked at the corpse of the dead guard and after a minute of thinking, she said, ‘Thanks, I owe you one.’ so when we get to the communications hub, I’ll be pulling the favor on her, and we’ll see if she’ll hold her end.”

Clare and Diann nodded in approval, though they had a flicker of doubt, it has been five years, so it was doubtful. They entered the small building and Badim walked in front of the nearest Holophone and typed in a set of numbers to contact her by, 12874, and waited.

Tag: Jess Let me know if that mission summary is alright with you. Let me know in the assessment thread if there's a problem.

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

Sara Soto

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Clare Velez]

She couldn’t hold it in any longer, she needed to tell him now or else they would both regret it later. “Badim?” she asked, trying to get his attention.
“Yes?” he turned away from the Holoscreen and to her, Tsenaca still hadn’t answered yet, so she might be in Hyperspace, it would be difficult to contact her with just a civilian communications station if she was in transit, Clare might as well speak now. She clenched her stomach with one hand, while the other was on her blaster’s grip as she began, “We’ve only known each other for little more than a week-Ten days at the most… But there’s something extremely important I need to talk to you about.”
Badim nodded, allowing her to continue, she gripped the blaster harder as her voice and heart shakily said, “I wa--,”

Before she could finish her sentence, Tsenaca, she presumed, appeared on the screen behind Badim, making her loosen her grip on the pistol.
“Can I ask how you got this number?” Tsenaca said, not taking Badim into account. He held a subtle hand to Clare and said apologetically, “You can tell me later, but first I need to get us off Shaddaa.”
Badim turned and began to talk to Tsenaca, starting with, “You did, Tsenaca. Something to do with a Favor?”
They began to discuss, leaving Clare to feel dismissed. She sighed and thought to herself, I’ll talk to him… He’ll know what I’m trying to do… Soon enough…

Tag: Jess That should give a spring-board for you when you're done with your papers, Jess. Hope you don't mind, just had to get this crucial point between Clare and Badim started.

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

Sara Soto

[Morgan ZIM]

(Continued from Here.)

Sector Walkway Streets; Somewhere Near Honest Drekk's

Instead of make his way to another bar and get even more drunk, Morgan was successfully talked into making his way by ZIM. Walking along in an irregular pattern, the hunter successfully managed to avoid trouble for most of the trip, no small feat on a planet with a reputation like Nar Shadda’s. Either in spite of his drunken appearance – or perhaps the opposite and because his motions made him even more intimidating – or by some unknown source, Morgan was able to stay out of the way of anyone interested in messing with him.

”See, isn’t this better? No trouble at all. You’ll feel so much better once you’ve gotten past the hangover in the morning.”
”I thought you like trouble.”
”I like good trouble, Morgan. Any trouble you could get in while lacking this much self control could only be bad trouble. I don’t like bad trouble.”
”Wazza differWHA!”

Tripping over the walkway, Morgan fell face-first to the ground. He tried to catch himself, but he started a couple moments too late for it to be good for anything other than landing with his arms out in front of him.

”Did you hear that?” ZIM asked.
”Well duh. How do you miss the sound of your own body hitting the ground?” Morgan replied as he picked himself up.
”Not that. I thought I heard a stun bolt while you were…”
”EHR-I-GO!” Morgan shouted again as he stood to his feet only to loose it again and hit the ground, this time landing on his back while he tried to make sure his footing was secure.

This time, however, he noticed the same thing that ZIM had before him. As he fell to the ground, the energy of a blue stun bolt shot through where he had been only seconds ago.

”Well that ain’t right.”

Picking himself up again, and this time using his magnetic grips to keep himself from repeating the process a third time, Morgan popped his wrist blaster and aimed it in the general direction of the blaster shots.

”Come out, why dontcha?” He said as he waved his arm about as menacingly as a drunk man could.
“I suggest you put that thing away.”

He turned his head to see a heavily armored man step out of an alleyway from behind him. Doing a double take, he left his arm pointed in the other direction but his focus moved to the new arrival.

”How’s you do that?” Morgan asked. ”You got magic movement powers or something.”
”No, numbskull. Obviously, he’s not alone.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The armored man said. “And again, I recommend you put that thing away.”
”Nah, I don’t think so.” Morgan said, disengaging his locks and turning the rest of his body to match his head. ”I like it out.”
“You don’t have much of a choice.” He replied, indicating to the blaster in his hand that aimed in Morgan’s direction.
”I’m not scared much.” Morgan said. ”You missed a drunk man twice. You’ve got the worst aim the galaxy. Me however, you shouldn’t tempt, because this thing could go off at any…”

Almost as if planned, Morgan’s wrist blaster went off and let a bolt fly loose into the sky.

”See?” He said, pointing with his free hand. ”I’m drunk and crazy. Do not want to mess with that sad combination. I’m libel to do anything.”
“Including getting yourself killed.”

The man let out a whistle. Looking around, Morgan saw four other hunters make their prescience know. He counted two Gank killers from the allyway the first man had come from, a wookie from an incropping behind him, and a Geonosian flying up from somewhere below.

”Well aren’t you an odd couple.”
“That wasn’t me making the shots. I don’t think you want to take us all on at once.”
”There’s a bad joke here, I just know it. Five hunters of four species walk into a bar…”
“Consider yourself lucky I was offered more if we brought you in alive. You’d be dead already if I hadn’t.”

”Offered more…these guys are bounty hunters.”
”Bounty Hunters? Pffft. I’m a hunter. I think we’re not on the same page here, guys.”
“You’re right, we’re not. Now come along before…”
”Before what, I kick your guy’s es? I don’t think so.”

Leaping into action without giving the situation much more thought, Morgan tried to activate his feet lifts, but instead just ended up falling over backwards, and moved right into the wookie as he backpeddled to stay upright. Quickly, the large hairy alien grabbed hold with a bear hug and began to squeeze.

”Once again, I am glad I am a droid, and thus incapable of being embarrassed.”

“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots.” The first hunter said in a complete deadtone.

”It’s just a…ow…setback…” Morgan responded, though his inebriated mind was having trouble figuring out exactly how that was the case.

“Yeah. Sure. Oaakie, let him go so I can…”

Before the man could finish his sentence, a blaster bolt rang out and struck the Geonosian, sending him to the ground. A small amount of chaos ensued as the different species scrambled for cover and tried to coordinate their efforts to figure out what had just happened and how to respond.

This included the Wookie – “Oaakie”, whatever that was no doubt short for – letting Morgan go anyway. On his feet and not being crushed to death, the cyborg turned around and tried to kick his former captor in the leg. His mind being what it was, the kick went wide.

The hairy one apparently had no interest in testing if Morgan would do better the second time, and struck the cyborg across the metal end of his face with a force that left him half unconscious and sprawled across the ground.

”Get up! Get up! Get up!”
”Stop your shouting!”

He reached his feet, but didn’t have time to make anything of it. Oaakie was still on him, and grabbed his mechanical arm. His general lack of senses left him unaware as to the how, but he knew the what – once the Wookie grabbed hold, he soon found himself with a distinct lack of control over the limb, which coincided with a great deal of force sending him backwards once again, this time over the edge of the walkway. With nothing between him and gravity, Morgan was free to fall towards the lower levels.

”Ohsithohsithohsithohsith…”

Fortunately, it was not as fatal as it could have been. While drunk, he was not entirely facing a lack of control, and was able to use his feet lifts to guide him. Unfortunately, his driving was very much off, and he flew straight into a wall and began a more typical free fall, which would have been fatal had Morgan not hit practically every sign, wire, and random decoration sticking out of the walls and buildings leading downwards like a human pinball. It hurt like no tomorrow, but it kept him alive enough to finally hit a solid piece of ground and simply fall into unconsciousness instead.

(Click Here to Continue the Story.)
_________________
Morgan ZIM: Bounty Hunter, Gun for Hire, Freelance Peacekeeping Agent, Cybernetic Scoundrel, and all around disruptor of the normal order of things.

[Badim Soilding]

Badim and H6 continued through the streets of Nar Shaddaa. The streets were getting dull and quiet now, surprisingly. Nar Shaddaa never had the traffic of Coruscant, though perhaps in the docking areas of Shaddaa. But areas that didn’t revolve around smuggling, cantinas or clubs were surprisingly quiet during the later hours of the night. It seemed that some people on Nar Shaddaa actually slept.

He shook his head of the thought, looking off in the distance to see the skyscraper that Dirod had resided in, and where Badim had gathered most of his missions from. To make his first kill and help a girl, not much younger than he was, survive for who knows how much longer after he reloaded her weapon, to release Sara and change his ways, and to fight alongside a woman with strong determination to find the one she loved dearly...

Five years ago
Three months after the release of Sara Soto

Dirod‘s Office

[Badim Soilding]

Badim followed Tseneca as she led him to her ship, disapprovingly and just wanting to get this job over with. Badim kept himself quiet, there was no need to talk to a partner who would just rather see him die and take the credits and run. Why Dirod kept pairing him up with mercenaries, particularly ones that didn’t get killed, was far beyond him. Tseneca strode with determination towards her ship, hinting with the same confusion Badim had as he glanced and her mouth silently wander through a self-conversation, silent curses and the likes.
After what seemed like forever, Tseneca finally entered a dock with her ship in it. He glanced at it’s hull, glimmering in places, but showing the telltale signs of use. Tseneca lowered the gangplank, as Badim almost prepared to touch the side of it, before an angry slap swatted it away.
“I don’t care how shiny it is… Don’t touch my ship,” she hissed, then entered.

Badim looked around, seeing the large interior of the ship: Dorms, galley, refreshers, obvious cargo hold, medbay and a small machine shop.
“This your bucket?” Badim snorted, “Large for a single crewmember.”

Tseneca shot him a look, “Don’t get any ideas, sleemo. I’m not taking on passengers, and I won’t be for a long time.”

“Just saying,” Badim said, obviously hitting a nerve. If it came down to a sudden betrayal, an already flared woman would be easily dealt with, “Must get lonely.”

”That doesn’t include me? And who are you, by the way?”

Badim jumped at the voice over the loudspeaker, trying to find a hidden enemy where he couldn’t. After a moment of looking around, he followed Tseneca to the cockpit, “Who was that?”

“My AI. SAMM.”

”Yes, I am designated: Systems Automated Management Mecha--”

“He doesn’t need to know everything about you, SAMM.”

The two entered the cockpit, Tseneca taking a seat in the pilots chair as Badim motioned for the co-pilots chair. “Don’t even think about it.” Tseneca hissed.
“Fine. I’ll just take a quick look around your bucket.”

The engines roared to life, and Badim lurched forward, almost landing on his face to Tseneca’s laughter, “Comfortable?”

He shrugged it off, and searched the ship to pass the time from the hour long trip.

Badim Soilding

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

Badim and Tseneca entered the Duros sector, it was desolate. Abandoned. The entire sector had been reclaimed by weeds and growing what little vegetation could survive on the metal moon. Their blasters were drawn, pacing through as they listened for any traps or an ambush set by some of the semi-sentient predators that resided and thrived here. It felt as though he were walking through a thick jungle, the concrete and natural jungles meshing and blending together, but Tseneca didn’t seem to have a problem.
They pushed through a set of bushes, coming upon a plaza. Abandoned as well. They strode to the center of it, using it to gather a barring while Badim searched a map on a datapad.
Crick!

Badim instinctively froze, as with Tseneca. Badim slowly placed the pad back on his belt and gripped his blaster, as with Tseneca. She nodded, followed closely with one from Badim. They turned and pressed their backs together, pointing and immediately firing on devolving Colicoids, rolling in to try and get close, but falling short as the group of ten quickly fell, but were quickly bolstered with more numbers.
Badim holstered his E-11 to the protest of Tseneca, telling him to keep firing. He reached back and grabbed his vibrosword and heard it’s reassuring hum. He unsleeved the vibroblade on his hip and tossed it to Tseneca.

She glanced at the metal sword as she continued to fire, realizing that the colicoids were getting closer and closer. Their blades hummed and vibrated, swinging at the closing opponents as blood spilled on the ground around them, but failed to touch Badim and Tseneca.

The last colicoid fell. And the two were left to ponder the battle.
“Looks like you’re better with a sword,” Tseneca said as Badim turned his back and began to review the datapad again. She shrugged, “Fine. Be like that. See if I save your ass--”
A blaster bolt quickly soared past Badim’s face. He swung around to see Tseneca’s blaster smoking as she holstered it, then to the ground behind him. A new colicoid lying there.
“Now, it looks like you owe me--” Badim raised his blaster to Tseneca, the woman stunned at the sudden change of allegiance, “Frak,” she spat. She grimaced as she heard Badim’s blaster go off, but opened her eyes to see she was still in the realm of the living.

“Even.” Badim said as he holstered his blaster.

She turned to see another colicoid, “So much for that idea.” she shrugged and joined him as they searched the datapad again, both of them keeping an ear open for anymore surprises.

Badim Soilding

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

Badim and Tseneca came upon their target, an abandoned building that looked like a warehouse. Badim knew all too well that it wasn’t uncommon for criminals, especially newcomers, to pick such a location as a illegal trade hub. Dirod didn’t fall for this tactic and chose less obvious locations, rather than an attention grabbing warehouse. Unlikely, but when something happened, the warehouses were the first to be checked. The two hid in opposite alleyways, directly across from each other. Badim kept his body directed at the warehouse from behind the alley‘s corner, seeing two IG-152 Combat Protocol Droids guarding the front.
Badim cursed in his head, making as little noise as possible with the droid’s advanced sensors.

Badim glanced at Tseneca as she slowly brushed her hair away from her face, squinting at the droids as she gripped her blaster. Badim looked back to the droids, watching as they slowly scanned the area. Badim grabbed a small, broken piece of duracrete and waited for the droids to turn their faces away from him, then tossed the light piece towards the droids.
They instantly picked up on it and followed it as it hit the ground, clanking and bouncing past them. The two stared at it, as Badim popped out and began to fire on the droids, Tseneca quickly catching the idea nad doing the same.

The droids began to react, but not before one of them was hit in the neck with one of Badim’s thrown vibroknives. It sputtered and heaved on the ground, motionless and dead. Tseneca blasted the other one through the chest several times, Badim assisting as needed, but Tseneca made the killing blow by blowing it’s head off, rolling to the floor.

“Well,” Tseneca said as she checked her blaster, then promptly reloaded it, “That was interesting,” she kicked the decapitated head and continued, “These things aren’t as tough as their advertised.”

“They’re worse,” Badim interjected, holstering his blaster and beginning to search the building to try find a way in, “That would be the third time I’ve encountered them, and we would be dead if they weren’t as curious as their protocol droid side, watching the rock tumble to the ground as it began to determine if it was a threat or not.”

Tseneca crossed her arms as she too searched, quickly pointing to a window at head height. Badim moved to it and coupled his hands. Before he could even mention the idea of hoisting her up, she was already rushing towards him, firing a quick shot at the window and slamming her boot into Badim’s hands as glass fell on his shoulders.
He refrained from grunting, she was heavier than her sleek figure suggested, but hoisted her up the opened window to hear a hail of blaster fire. He feared he had just thrown her into a hellhole and to her death. But he quickly looked to the door and saw her body press the door beyond it’s hinges and break under the weight she had just thrown into it. She ducked behind the wall as the hail of blasters soared through the opening. Among the hissing and light from the door, he heard Tseneca yell out an order: “Kahpkai‘s making a run for it! Cut him off!”

Badim nodded and ran around the building, looking back and seeing Tseneca blind fire her blaster around the corner.

He turned the corner of the building, seeing the towering herglic face him down as he charged towards him. Badim fired several shots at the whale’s face and body, but it’s thick fat deflected the hits or just absorbed them as effectively as a Hutt.
Badim unsleeved his vibroblade from his hip in what time he had left, and sidestepped. The barreling herglic missed him completely, but toppled as Badim cut the back of his legs.
A thunderous thud sounded, then the muffled screams from the herglic were heard as Badim shoved his vibroblade through it’s hide, and slid the blade across Kahpkai’s back. Badim sighed, but continued to hear blaster fire from the warehouse and took a side entrance into the building.

Tseneca was inside now, taking cover behind one of the barrels in an attempt to get a better angle on the guards.
Badim took action and fired his E-11 at the remaining guards, the group quickly falling from the combined fire and surprise attack.

Tseneca rose, observing what remained of the battle, “Kahpkai?” she asked as she strode towards him.
“Dealt with.”
“Credits for me,” she grinned, “And you get…?”

“Protection for my foster parents.” Badim said as he checked the bodies.

Tseneca gazed at him, she seemed to be thinking of an option, away from killing for protection, “Do your…parents know of you? This you?”

“No.”

“I see,” she said, checking the bodies closest to her to make sure they were dead as well, “What will you do now?”

“Find something to haul Kahpkai to Dirod, then you’ll get your credits and information leading to…”

“Emmett Fink,” she said boldly, standing and straightening herself as she said the man’s name, “An Imperial Officer.”

Badim faltered slightly, but didn‘t let it show. An Imperial, he muttered in his head, At least the Imperial’s are a least friendly now, “Relative?” Badim questioned, matching the last names together.

“I wish. I added his name to mine to keep myself determined to find him,” she raised a hand to him, gesturing a handshake, “Tseneca Lowry-Fink.”

Badim nodded, took her hand and shook it, “Badim Soilding.”
“We make a good team, despite what I thought earlier,” she said, then winked, “You’re still not getting a ride.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Badim said, gently releasing his hand and returned the wink from under his hood, though if it was seen, he wasn’t sure, “I need to stay here for my family.”

Tseneca nodded, but a sudden movement caught his eye as a wounded guard stood from behind her. She looked confused, cocking her head as she tried to read his expression, “Badim?” she asked as Badim raised his blaster again, “The hell are you--!?”

The blaster sounded, much like before with the colicoid, her face grimacing as the bolt singed past her face, enough to warm it, but not enough to cause anymore than a flash of heat as it soared and hit the guard in the head.
Tseneca looked around, blaster gripped. She sighed, then turned back to Badim, “Frak. You need to stop doing that,” she holstered her blaster, then continued with a grin and line that would change Badim’s life five years later, “I owe you one.”

Present

Badim shook his head, and then turned to H6. H6 figuratively sighed, “Statement: Master, you have been staring at…Searching…Dirod’s Skyscraper for little more than ten Coruscant standard minutes. Something you would like to inform me of?”

Badim looked at H6 a little more complexly, pondering the question. He turned back to the skyscraper, then replied, “No. Just a ghost of the past.”

Badim Soilding

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

Badim opened the doors to his foster parent’s apartment. Empty and quiet. It had been left untouched for weeks since their death. Thankfully no one came and looted the place, and it was still entitled to him. He sighed as H6, out of his protective programming, searched the house for assailants while Badim investigated his former, and once again, home. There was an ice cold cup of caf on the caf table, the black liquid having grown a dark transparency, staining the white mug after weeks of sitting there. It still looked black, and Badim’s suspicions on his foster parent’s long absence was realized when he slowly poured the mug’s contents into the kitchen sink, showing just how stained the cup was.
He ran the hot water, using an overly dry, though quickly soaking, and course sponge to try and rub the stain away to no avail.

Badim realized that it was dark in here, and he had been walking around the apartment in the dark. Using the dim light from Nal Hutta’s nightly appearance and his memory to navigate. He flipped a light switch next to the sink, quickly setting off a chain of flickering lights as they turned on throughout the apartment.
He never lived here, but was here fairly often when he was given a brief sabbatical from his assassination missions. Living inside Dirod’s Skyscraper for most of his former career with him.

It was a luxurious apartment, but Badim never found time to actually use his quarters in Dirod’s tower. Only using it to recover from a tough mission, Warir’kar for instance. The other times he spent here, visiting the only parents he had known until recent.
“Statement: Master, the apartment is secure.”

“Thanks.” Badim said, his body turning to leave as his hand held the counter until the tips of his fingers disconnected from it’s smooth surface, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Query: Where to, Master?”

“To find our purpose here on Shaddaa. Whether that be bounty hunting or rusting, we’ll have to find it.”

“Recommendation: I would rather selecting the former option, Master.”

Badim didn’t smile. Moving out of the apartment with H6 faithfully following it’s master.

Badim Soilding

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

“Come on,” the woman said, propping her arms on the countertop of the bar Badim and H6 were in, “You look like you need cheering up. I’m cheap.”

Badim shook his head for the fifth time. The blue-haired beauty was bothering him for five minutes, a drawback to entering the bars again. He had ordered a drink with what credits he had left, but hadn’t touched it as it slowly warmed and the ice diluted the alcoholic flavor, running his hand against the condensation of the glass. The cantina was smoggy with smoke and filled with the aromas of spent beverages and small amounts of de-synthesizer.
“I’m not in the mood.” Badim muttered his response.

“A hundred credits,” the woman persisted, “As low as I’ll go.”

“Not. In-ter-est-ed.” Badim stated in aggravation, hoping she’d gather the message this time.

The woman scowled, turned and left the cantina. Finally leaving Badim alone with his now diluted liquor. H6 had taken a seat next to him, something Badim had never seen before. He always saw droid standing or crouching depending on the circumstances, never sitting as though he too were drinking together, or staring at a drink in Badim‘s case.
He sighed, pushing the drink away and wasting his last credits. Standing as H6 joined him once more out into the streets. The cool, smog filled night seemingly not ending.

Badim and H6 started back towards his foster parent’s apartment, using that as a place to operate out of until—A frightened scream came from an alley just adjacent to the two. Badim jolted and ran to the entrance, seeing the blue-haired woman facing a shadowed man, flanked by two others as they forcefully grabbed her arms.
“Let’s do this boys. Once we’re done with her, that sleemo Hutt can do what it wants with--” the man stopped, the struggling woman and sadistic men looking at him as he paused. The silence was long, interrupted with the woman’s whimpers, ending as the man fell forwards with a vibrating blade at the base of his neck.
The men looked up, seeing Badim with an empty, extended hand. H6 was hidden behind the alley wall, weapon in hand as the men threw the girl aside and rush foolhardily towards Badim. He didn’t flinch, not until the monsters came within feet of him. The only thing that could be heard, were the click and clang as blades extended from Badim’s wrists and into the men‘s necks, the pained screams escaping while they could, before the last of their breaths left their bodies and they fell limp.

The woman sprang to her feet and rushed at Badim with arms extended, hoping to embrace him for saving her. Badim turned to his side as she embraced nothing but air, opening her eyes to realize that he had resisted her once more.
“Give up the sex trade. It’ll only get you into trouble like just now.” Badim flicked his fingers and his blades retracted.

“But--” the woman tried to say.

“Recommendation: I suggest you listen to Master, female. The outcome for this situation could have been far worse, should Master and I have not come to rescue you.”

“…But I want to repay you!”

“Then give up the sex trade. H6, let’s go.” Badim said as he strode through the alley, suddenly realizing he hadn’t left his ways. Another innocent had been spared. He left to return to his foster-parent’s former apartment. Badim glanced behind him, seeing the woman had turned her back and was leaving, chin lowered slightly. Hopefully she took heed to his words.

Badim Soilding

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

“Master,” H6 said, “I just came across a curious bit of information…”
Badim thought to dismiss it. Anything on Nar Shaddaa had a shady or curious side to it, and it wasn’t hard to pick one notable one apart from the other. He leaned back against the couch Jaalib used to recline often on, crossing his arms and closing his eyes as he tried to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. He could become an honorable bounty hunter, it’d be better than rotting away. But that would bring him back into the spiraling tragedy he had just ended with Boz and Jelahan Loren, worse still he’d probably end up in the service of a Hutt.
“Query: Master, do you not wish for me to share the information?”

Badim let off a long sigh. He shared a brief glance with the IG Droid, curiosity marking his solid facial-frame with a simple tilt of his head. “What is it?” Badim gruffly said.

“Recitation: I tapped into the security feeds to Dirod’s Skyscraper and I found something very interesting.” Badim’s eyes widened with H6’s mention of Dirod’s Skyscraper, glaring at H6’s flickering photoreceptors, scanning the information to be sure of it before he shared it, “Confirmation: The Duro Urnath Dirod has just logged in the building. Effectively being, as SAMM would have commented, Open for Business.”

Badim sat there stunned for a moment, glancing out of the window to see a sliver of the building before it. It was abandoned, the only signs of life were the spotlights shining on it to ensure no accidents happened with the Skylanes. Anger began to fill in him, his heart racing at how many times he’s failed to deal with Dirod. He feared that he was going to attack someone else, or him himself. In either case: He, his family on Naboo and on The Leaper were in danger now. Dirod needed to be stopped. Once and for all.
Badim sprang to his feet, grabbing his E-11 off the caf table and his vibroblade propped next to the front door to the apartment. He checked the straps on his wrist blades and his quickly holstered weapons. He turned to wave H6 over to him, only to see he was standing right at his side.
“Query: Does this mean we get to kill someone, Master?”
“More than that,” Badim said, renewing a vow he had made here nearly a month ago, “We’re going to take him to Mustafar and dip him in the lava there. And then take him to hell.”

Dirod’s Tower

Badim and H6 burst through the main entrance of Dirod’s Skyscraper with exaggerated emotion. His steps were full of anger and strife. Dirod was the last link to his past that he never wanted to veer into again. The cold bloodshed of innocent lives, and the uncertainty of so many others. He had continued to kill for Dirod until he finally realized that after all he had worked for Dirod, he was a monster and needed to be stopped. And so many people had died at his hands because he was foolish and naïve, still considering that Dirod might have had some of his intelligence on key victims wrong. That changed when he ordered Badim to kill his own foster parents, of which he did himself mere days later.

The doors to the turbolift in the lobby opened to Badim and H6. Welcoming them. The door hissed behind him and he had H6 hack into the lift’s controls, to ensure he was in control of where the lift stopped and not Dirod. It was easily done and they made their ascension up the tall tower. The lift was silent, not even the clichéd lift-music was playing. A clear sign of Dirod’s long absence, recovery and reassertion.
The lift’s doors opened to the top floor, devoid of life except for the overhead lights shining down on the hall, leading down a path to Dirod’s Office. The Office doors were open wide, giving Badim a clear view of the office within from the turbolift. H6 aimed his blaster rifle to fire. Badim placed a hand on the barrel and lowered it. “He’s mine.” Badim stated with clear rasp in his voice.

Badim paced down the hall, H6 slowly pacing behind him as they entered the office. Badim aimed his E-11 at the back of the chair Dirod always sat in. Badim couldn’t see him and was getting impatient, “Why won’t you just die and leave me alone, Dirod?”

Dirod remained silent.

“Show yourself!” Badim shouted, his aim straightening as the chair slowly rotated to follow his command. He didn’t pull the trigger yet, he wanted to see Dirod’s face, the blood-red bulges that were his eyes. He’d shoot him and toss his body in the magma of Mustafar, to burn and melt away. Never to bother Badim or those around him again. A final revenge for Brenna and Jaalib.

Tag: Alex, Jess, Kyp

Badim Soilding

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Morgan ZIM]

(Continued from Here)

”You showed up faster than I expected.” Morgan said as he stepped into the doorway behind Badim and some droid he had brought with him. The two had found themselves surprised that the chair they were aiming at was empty, and likely wondering what was going on.

”Expected it to be a couple days before you showed up. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Sure saves me a bunch of work.”

"Query: Master, would you like me to eliminate this robotically, repulsive looking man? Specifically his robotic side?" The droid asked.

”Oh, he is just asking for trouble.” ZIM commented.

“Stand down, H6," Badim said, waving his droid away. Turning to Morgan with his full attention, Morgan could see the anger in his eyes, "ZIM kriffing with your mind or something, Morgan? What's this about?"
”We wanted to get in contact with you, and this seemed the easiest way to do it.” Morgan replied, no longer worried at this point about any potential possibility that the assassin might think about trying to kill him for his efforts.

"And with that I'm not interested, Morgan. I'm done with all of that. I came here only to deal with Dirod for what I thought would be the third time I've killed him."
”You don’t even want to know what we wanted to get in contact with you about?” Morgan asked.
”Maybe you should ask if we should contact him later when he’s not so upset about the Dirod thing.” ZIM commented.
”Or who the ‘we’ I’m referring to is?”

"No." Badim said. It was pretty clear to Morgan he wasn’t interested in looking past the anger over him faking Dirod coming back. Before he could try anything else, however, Clare entered from another room.

"Hey, Morgan," Clare said, rubbing her eyes from tireless training with Jevan, "Jevan's getting better with his blaster and everything and--"

The droid and his master turned to see the new arrival from behind them, and Morgan could see something light up in Clare’s eyes.

"Statement: Master. Unless my memory core is damaged, I believe that that's Clare--"

"Anesho!" Clare shouted as she rushed towards Badim.

”Wait a minute…” Morgan thought to himself as he tried to figure out the disconnect between the name and the individual.
”I think that Badim is Anesho.”

”Wait, so the guy you wanted me to help you find so you could maybe get help finding some other guy and the other guy you ultimately wanted help finding are the same guy?” Morgan asked, hoping to get some confirmation, but no response came, as Clare and Badim were far too deep into an embrace to pay any attention to anything outside their own, private little world.

”Probably for the best. I think the way you said it made it sound even more confusing.”
”Yeah, probably.” Morgan answered, mostly to himself.

The two broke off for a moment, long enough for Badim to get off a joking comment.

"So you still got that nut-job of a voice in there, Morgan? I thought he'd annoy the hell out of you by now."

Yet the two failed to break eye contact, and the cyborg couldn’t tell one way or the other on if they’d go full on once again at any moment.

”Oh, well, you know how it is. Should, uh, we go into the other room and let you two have some private time for a while or, what?”

"Please." Badim said, eyes still locked with Clare's. H6 moved to Morgan's side, and the hunter gave the droid a small glance, hardly turning his head to do so, before heading out the way Clare had come in.
"Statement: I do apologize for my reaction to your arrival, robotic man.” H6 said as the door closed behind them. “I am programmed to protect my Master, and I perceived you as a threat at first."
”Do you always talk like that?” Morgan asked.
"Query: Like how, robotic man?"
”Like, declaring what you’re saying?”
"Confliction: I don't understand what you are implying."
”That Badim needs to get your voicebox upgraded to something that makes it obvious whether you’re asking a question or not.”

"Recitation: There are no legal IG-152 upgrades for a voicebox.” H6 explained “What I have is standard and no aftermarket products have been made, nor will they ever be made. Holowan Industries fears that upgrades in any form, though minute with a voicebox, in fear of another IG-88 incident. I am sorry to disappoint you, partially insane self-speaking robot man."
”Oh, I’m sure that if he let me dig around inside of you, I could figure something out.”
”No, I would be figuring it out. And I can’t promise I wouldn’t see to it that he’d be muted permanently.”
”Wouldn’t be the worse possible outcome.”

”Frankly, though, I don’t get why they built you in the first place if they worried you might do that…88 thing at even so small a change as a voicebox upgrade. Sounds like an accident waiting to happen.”
"Correction: I malfunctioned and I have a more, as Master would say, aggressive personality. Though I, as with my other counterparts, are completely harmless when not in combat. Before my malfunction due to a pesky Womp Rat, I was as calm as those docile Cybot 3PO units…”
”Touchy, ain’t he?”

”Again, if all it took was a womp rat for you to go…not docile, my point still stands.”

(Joint Post Approved)
_________________
Morgan ZIM: Bounty Hunter, Gun for Hire, Freelance Peacekeeping Agent, Cybernetic Scoundrel, and all around disruptor of the normal order of things.

[Clare Velez]

PG-13 Content. Does not break rules of the game (I would think)

Written to: Wake Me When You Need Me - Halo 3 Soundtrack

The door quietly shut behind Morgan and H6, leaving Clare and Badim alone to scan each other’s eyes. They tried to think of ways that this could simply be a dream or a deception, but Clare was proven wrong every time she embraced him passionately, every time they touched. Badim’s breath was getting shaky, seeing the woman he loved back in his arms from the supposed clutches of death.
Clare nuzzled her nose into his neck, wrapping her arms around him tightly as he did the same. “I missed this.” Clare sighed into Badim’s neck, holding back the floodgates of joy.
“I thought you were dead.” Badim said, pain coming out at the end of his words.
Clare squeezed him tighter around his chest, “So did I.” She quickly realized that they had repeated what they said on Denon after she ’kidnapped’ Badim in the police speeder three weeks ago, before Badim had realized what was happening. Clare regretted pulling the trigger on her stun blaster, seeing Badim flail about on the ground into unconsciousness still sent shivers up her spine; De’lotre was planning on ridding himself of her anyways, and if she had known she would have just gone and dealt with Candrog immediately instead of trying to be sly about it.

Badim wrapped an arm around Clare’s shoulders. She thought he was going to dip her towards the floor for another embrace; instead was being led down a series of halls away from Dirod’s Office. They came to a red-painted door, not unlike the others in the skyscraper. Badim tapped a small panel on the side and typed in a code, the door hissing quickly afterwards. The room inside was dark and cold until Badim reached in and flipped a switch. The apartment lit up in an instant, revealing a plush apartment. Much like what Candrog had supplied for her as his assassin. Clare’s eyes scanned the apartment, marveling at what Badim had left behind when he left Shaddaa for Tatooine for what seemed like years ago. Her eyes fell into the bedroom, and she quickly caught on. She wanted it to.

She turned on the balls of her feet, boldly pacing to Badim and wrapping her arms around his neck. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Their heads naturally tilted to meet each other’s lips slowly. It was a slow, cautious and innocent kiss. Their mouths slowly opening wider than the last kiss.

-

Badim still couldn’t believe it. Clare was back in his arms and they were acting like nothing had happened. In a way it was true. He couldn’t help but laugh in his head at the crew’s response to Clare being alive, the thought of stunned faces and joy filled smiles at seeing a once-dead friend back with them. Sara would probably be the happiest to know this; knowing she didn’t have to try and comfort Badim in Clare’s supposed absence.
Badim smiled between kisses at the thought of the reunion with the crew, Clare feeling it and quickly thinking of another subject from it; wrapping her left leg around Badim’s right. He grabbed her legs and hoisted her up, her flushed face ending up a little higher than his. He reached up and kissed her on the chin, working his way down her neck to it’s side as she gently dug her hands into his shoulders. He breathed against her neck, breathing her in. The sweet smell of vanilla from her freshly washed hair filling his being; making him shake at how he almost forgot it at her death. He felt a little bad, he hadn’t showered since he left The Leaper, and probably smelled rank to her from the smells of Shaddaa. She didn’t show signs of it as he looked her over, pressing her against the doorway to his hardly used bedroom. Though she, like himself, had been trained in the arts of deception in their careers; she could just be good at hiding it. He didn’t care.

-

Clare wrapped her long legs around his waist and greedily grabbed his shoulder blades as he carried her to his - Soon to be their - bed like he had done on the other times they had committed the act. Coming to her as an instinct now more than anything else. She preferred this, feeling the strong arms of her castle carry her, and their chests pressed against each other allowing her to feel the rapid beating of Badim’s heart. The combination of the two sending her into a fevered dreamlike state among her already pleasured being.

She heard a small thud as Badim’s leg hit the edge of the bed, then the compressing sounds of springs in the mattress as the two fell on the bed playfully; but the silent exchange from their lips never skipped as the tenor between them rose like, well, lovers.
Their mouths grew more violent, wide open as they both tried to dominate the kiss, their tongues battling fruitlessly. But they still tried.
Clothes quickly began to tear off and they were bare against each other, finally together again at last. Clare’s legs opened wider, her body began to shudder and her eyes rolling back into her head, their lids fluttering in pleasure as they finished what had started out horrific on a high note.

Clare fell on Badim’s chest, wrapping her arms around him as the cold began to get to her. He gripped her tightly and brought them under the warm sheets. Her hair fell flat against Badim’s neck, the soft touch of his lips against her dark hair. Their eyes closed and Clare began to drift to sleep. “It’s good to be back…” Clare whispered her joke. Her world began to fog and she wasn’t sure if she was heard, or if she heard Badim correctly, “I know how it is.”
Clare smiled, whether he said or not. There was still the matter of the bounty to take care of. But it can wait until day.

Tag: Alex, Jess, Kyp, Space Jawa

Clare Velez

Badim Soilding

[Badim Soilding]

Badim stirred, rolled out of their bed and planting his feet firmly on the floor as he woke. He looked around, the lamps were off in the bedroom, but the ones through the rest of the apartment were still on and the only source of light was from the slit under the door, and the green hue of Nal Hutta through the window shades.
He ran a hand behind his neck, massaging a scar he had gotten while working with Morgan. He let off a sigh, jolting as Clare swept up silently from her side of the bed behind him and pressed a palm against his back. “Got’cha.” she joked, playing it as a kill. He could see this was going to be a game for them, sneak up behind each other and try and kill each other without notice. He’d be interested in seeing how long it would last, or if it would be an ongoing game.
Clare wrapped her arms around Badim and laid her head on Badim’s shoulder, sharing the view of the Nar Shaddaa night and glow of Nal Hutta, “Ready to leave?”
“Leave?” Badim asked, turning his head to her.
“Back to The Leaper and the others.”
Badim paused, before grasping Clare’s hand and pressing his fingers between hers, “Not yet.”
“Spend some more time together then?”
“Dealing with the bounty on your head first.”

Clare pulled her arms away, grabbed a portion of the sheets and threw it over him and herself, then sitting next to him with her head propped against his, “I only came here to get you back,” she said softly, “I don’t care about Morgan or the bounty. We’ll be fine.”
“No we won’t, Clare,” Badim said, “Morgan’s a friend of mine, and I know he can handle himself and all, but I’m not taking any chances with losing you again. I’m dealing with this bounty on your head before it gets out of hand.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” Clare said, she was getting a little upset that they wouldn’t be leaving like she had planned, “Let’s just leave. We’ll be fine around Lucas and Kyp.”

Badim laughed, “Not to mention Tseneca.”

“Yeah, she’s a tough gal. And--”

Gently squeezing her shoulder, Badim continued for her, “A training Jedi. Lightsaber and all.”

Clare turned to look at his face to see if he was joking, only to see a serious smirk. She looked back out into the skylanes of Nar Shaddaa in bewilderment, trying to comprehend it, “Has she always been able to use The Force?” Badim only nodded, “What else have I missed while I was playing dead?”

Badim chuckled, finally able to do so full heartedly rather than the other times, just simply gestures that he got a joke or comment, but never backing it up with anything. Badim’s eyes wandered, recalling the events that had come over The Leaper in the last few days.
“Well, for one Dorniekke was the one who ratted us out to Jelahan and got you killed.”
“That sleemo!”
“Don’t worry, he’s going to be in hyperspace for the rest of his natural life. I’ll make sure of that,” without allowing her a moment to comment, he continued, “Then we went to Felucia, where Alisson was trying to find a cure for a skin disease she had contracted apparently, and we were there to help get Jonas out of a Sarlacc and--”
“A Sarlacc!?” Clare jumped, looking at him with even more bewilderment then before, “You’ve got to be screwing with me.”

“Almost lost him too. Lucas was able to get him out with Sara and--”
Clare jumped on her feet and shouted, “Sara was eaten too!?”
“No, she and Lucas jumped in to get Jonas out. She came out with a few injuries, and Jonas was dying. So we left for Thyferra, Tseneca’s homeworld, to get Jonas some much needed bacta,” he let the words hang in the air, letting Clare sit back next to him before continuing, “On the way there, well, Sara was trying to comfort me as much as everyone else was. We did all think you were dead and, well, Sara tried a little harder to comfort me.”
“As in?” Clare asked, her face growing curious. It wasn’t a question Badim hadn’t expected, and if they were going to be together he needed to be completely open with her.
“Keep in mind she, as with everyone and myself, thought you were dead, and she embraced me. Just a kiss I’ll tell you that.”

Clare paused as she took it all in. She sighed then smiled, “I’m glad she did. If I really was dead, I wouldn’t want you alone. I’d accept it too. Just as long as you took care of the guy who killed me.”

Badim smiled. At least she would have understood if it did come to that, and she really was dead after all.
“You did kill him, right?”
“I’m getting to that,” Badim smiled again, pushing a hand through her dark, slightly grimy hair. Pushing her hair aside to see her delicate ear as he continued to caress her and recall recent events, “We got Jonas to Thyferra and barely saved his life. Sethe, by the way Tseneca had a stalker who was hired to protect her from her bounty, told Tseneca that the vratix in the commune we were in were planning a revolt against her uncle, who was being cruel and using the vratix as slave labor for bacta.
“We agreed to fight with her and began training the vratix for a proper resistance. Then an Imperial shuttle landed.”
“Uh-oh. How big? Lambda? Troop Transport?”
“Theta-class. But within was Emmett Fink and--”
“Fink? A brother to Tseneca or--”
“Her lover.”
Clare nodded, allowing him to continue.

“We set up our final attack and Lucas and Jonas, who by the way are together,” he thought Clare would interrupt there, but she only grimaced at the thought, much like Badim had when he found out himself, “They infiltrated the main complex with Tseneca’s uncle, where we saw a horrific sight of mutilated vratix corpses. Firi barely held herself together. During the firefight, Emmett was killed and Tseneca went into a Force rage, but stopped.”
Clare continued to listen, drawing her eyes away from Badim as she felt a sting of pain through her, thinking of what Tseneca was going through right now.
“I left for Ord Mantell after the burial with Kyp, Sethe, Sara, H6, Firi, Dex and Jaira. Who was also let go on Shaddaa. But because I let her go, and basically screwed over the guy I worked for; who I killed in self-defense, it led to what happened with us. Because I killed his son, Jelahan came after me for revenge through you. We broke into his bunker and…” he paused, seeing a smirk cross her face. He assumed that’s where Jelahan had taken her, and since she wasn’t there he assumed she got out. But there could have been another part of it that he’d yet to learn, and continued, “…I couldn’t bring myself to kill him. I knew you wouldn’t have wanted me to kill him for revenge and I couldn’t do it.”
“He was insane! I would have let you kill him, Badim. I wouldn‘t want a maniac running around causing mayhem,” Clare retorted, her face hardening up, figuring he was still out there waiting to attack again, “Is he still alive?”

“No, Sara killed him. I left The Leaper afterwards. Sara was a little heartbroken. Though she probably won’t be when we get back to the crew,” he took in a breath, “Now you’re up to speed.”

“Good.” Clare said, springing to her feet and gathering her clothes as Badim watched, “They’ll think I’m psychic when we see them on the next flight out of here.”

“Not so fast,” Badim said as he gathered his own clothes, “I’m going to meet with Morgan to deal with this bounty on your head. You didn’t think I forgot did you?”

Clare was half-dressed, her shirt still off but her bra and pants on, staring at him as she froze. She smiled and walked towards him. Badim only having gotten his boxers on as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “Anesho,” she said, surprisingly he was getting used to her use of the name. She gazed up into his eyes, “Let’s just get out of here, please?”
Badim wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, “I’m sorry. This is what I have to do. I failed to protect you last time. I won’t let it happen again.”

Clare closed her eyes and sighed. Looking back up and hugging his neck and shoulders, “Be careful then. We still have to tell our friends that we’re joining back up with them. And I don’t want to do it alone.”

Tag: Alex, Jess, Kyp, Space Jawa

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

Badim moved through the streets of Nar Shaddaa quietly, exposed without his cloak to conceal him anymore. But he had Clare’s as a substitute. She must have been wearing it a lot, the smell of her hair coated the inside of the hood subtly. Every breath he took through his nose quickly brought on a smile, essentially having her with him in a way. His expression hardened as he gripped the blaster Clare had handed him, his DL-44 strapped to his hip for when he left it as a calling card to lead Jao’alin back to The Ravagers, to remove the bounty on Clare, Morgan, Jevan and Norrteth. He just prayed it worked. Clare had told him what the situation was with the bounty during their last catch-up session, an hour or so after their reunion.

He saw his target, a building no more than nine stories high but was two blocks long. An abandoned office building from what Morgan could dig up. Why most criminals chose to deal in warehouses or abandoned buildings was beyond Badim. At least De’lotre and Dirod had the decency to purchase huge skyscrapers to house a large assortment of prisoners to torture and bodyguards to protect them from assassin‘s like Clare and himself.

The com-device in his ear click on, “Badim?” Clare said to him, using his first name around Morgan and Norr not to confuse them. They were still slowly getting used to Badim actually being Anesho, and to have that confusion during this mission wouldn‘t be good, so she restricted Anesho as a joke between them alone. Badim still thought that the crew was still getting used to the idea of Badim being Badim, and having Anesho in the mix wouldn’t help.

“Go ahead, Clare.” Badim keyed his earpiece while he ducked into an alley adjacent to the building.

“H6 is set up three-hundred meters to the east of the building, and says he sees an entry point for you. It’s…” she checked her readings inside The Shape from the pause he heard, “Fifty meters left of the main entrance. H6 doesn’t see any guards yet, but be careful. Oh, it’s also a tight squeeze.”

“I’ve been in tighter places.” Badim said with a little distaste in his voice, he’d been through his fair share of air ducts and he was sure Clare had as well. She took it as something completely different, however.

“Not over the comm!” she hissed, another pause following as she checked around herself he assumed, “Thank Gods he wasn’t here when you say that.”

“That wasn’t what I meant in the first place, Clare,” he replied, obviously hitting a nerve, “But now that you mention it…”

Clare huffed a heavy sigh then let off a quick laugh, “I’m going to kill you, you know?”
“Been there, done that.”

“Just hurry up so we can get our asses back to The Leaper.”

“Whatever you say,” he took a chance, “Patessa?”

There was silence over the com for a moment, then a surprised laugh—More like a chuckle—came over Badim‘s ear, “I was wondering when you’d start calling me that.”

Badim clicked his mic off and moved towards the building and the entry point.

Tag: Space Jawa

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

Written to: Eon Trap - Half-Life 2 - Episode Two OST

Badim wiggled his fingers around the few handholds on the side of the building leading to the entry point, an air duct. He came up level with the vent, pulled his vibroknife out and pressed it between the joining point between the vent and the side of the building. He activated the sonic generator and it began to dig deeper into the slot; with a little leverage Badim made a gap big enough for him to get his fingers in to force the vent open. He pulled and swayed, hearing the distinct sound of metal creaking and caving under pressure, then the clang clang as it fell to the ground.
A rock flew and impacted Badim in the side of the head, at first he thought he was hit with a slug thrower, looking down and seeing H6 there reassured him otherwise.
H6 nodded and moved to a section of the wall and quickly broke through the duracrete, pulling out a section of wires and plugging himself in.
”We’ve got video feed,” Morgan said over the com, ”It's all clear. Have fun.”

Badim made his way into and through the air duct, following instructions from Clare and Morgan as they tracked his position through the building. From what Clare said and the bump on his forehead, he was at the end of the vents and had to make use of his stealth skills in a relative open area. Morgan told him he was over a cargo area, something like storage area with it’s own cargo droid. H6 quickly took control of it through the systems and moved a pallet of cargo on it’s forklifts to where Badim was. Badim gently pulled the floor panel beneath him away, dropped down and hid behind the forklift droid as H6 drove it to the entrance of the storage area. The only complication was there were a set of guards there, Badim instinctively pulled Clare’s cloak tighter around him, then he got an idea.
“H6,” he whispered to the forklift droid, “Ram into the guard on the right.”

”Statement: Right away, Master.” before Badim had even heard H6 say Master the droid next to him was already driving at a powerful speed into a guard, pressing him into the wall as it crumbled around him. The guard next to him watched in bewilderment at the display of his fellow guardsmen disappearing in front of his eyes, before the said eyes vaporized with a shot to the skull.
“Subtle…” Clare muttered over the com.
“All in a day’s work.”
”For an assassin, your stealth is kind of rusty. The idea is not to get caught.”

Badim peeked his head through the hole in the door the droid had made, seeing an empty hallway with no guards. He opened the door casually, suddenly hearing the frantic voice of Clare, ”No wait!”
A blaster bolt singed past the hem of his cloak, burning his eyebrows but sparing his eyes. He leapt backwards into the storage room again, peeking back out to see a turret recede into a slot in the ceiling.
”Jao’alin is allied with a Hutt, remember? Keep your head in there or Clare‘s gonna end up single again--” Badim heard Clare briefly cry out in pain, then Morgan addressed her, ”That's right, punch the cyborg where he's made of metal. Real smart. Anyways, just watch it, Badim.”

“H6 just hacked into the turrets, they won’t attack you, I swear.” Clare finished.

Badim waved a hand out the hall, and with no blasters burning it off he assumed he was safe, stepping out and following the directions Clare and Morgan gave him.

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Badim Soilding]

Badim made away with killing the odd guard out without being seen within the dim halls of the building he was in, being abandoned, not much power had been diverted to this building. Jao’alin probably got away with portable generators in certain areas. Badim hid inside a janitor‘s closet, waiting for a passing guard to get close enough. Badim reached around the man’s mouth to muffle his screams, then stab him in the back and then again to the heart. The man’s eyes rolled back into his head and he fell limp inside the cubical. Badim stuffed him behind old mops and left him there, closing the door behind him as Badim left.

Badim was only making a kill if necessary, too many guards disappearing wouldn’t be good for his cover, though with how close he was to Jao’alin from what Clare and Morgan had said to him, it probably wouldn’t matter. The twi’lek he was after was in the next room over, at the end of the hall. Clare advised him that there were a pair of turrets in the ceiling, and H6 had no way of getting it into it unless he moved to the other side of the building to hack into another panel. “Time to go loud.” Badim muttered.

”Badim wait!” Clare shouted into his ear, but Badim had already triggered the turret voluntarily, aiming the crude, bulky Ravager blaster at the pair, letting loose a pair of shots at the central orb in the turret’s optics. They stuttered and their barrels fell limp as the guard had done a moment ago.
The door burst open to a trio of guards with their blasters pointed, the shots alerting them to the assassin’s presence. Badim fired off two shots and rushed forward with his wrist blades extended and poised to dig into the last guard. He heard a bone crack as the guard impacted the doorframe from the force of Badim’s leap at him, then the muffled gurgles of air rushing through a slit throat.

He looked beyond the open door to see his target. The blue twi’lek began to cower as he was left defenseless and yelling into a comlink for more guards. Badim gripped the blaster, straightened his aim, making it look like from Jao’alin’s point of view he was aiming for the head, but in actuality his shoulder.

He heard the patter of feet in the hall behind him, his cue to get out of the Corellian Hells. He pulled the trigger and the twi’lek fell back in pain and anguish. Badim dropped the Ravager blaster and pulled out his DL-44, turning to the second story window. He grabbed one of the dead guards just as blaster bolts started flying. Badim used the corpse as a shield, then ran himself and the dead man to the window, crashing through it. Badim placed an elbow on the dead man’s chest and prayed he hadn’t made a mistake. The bone crunching sounds he heard would ring in his ears for a few hours, and his arms had dented the man’s chest and he saw the distinct signs of compound fractures across the man’s torso.

Badim’s forearms were covered in the man’s clotted blood.
“Prep The Shape for takeoff! Lower the ramp and start flying, I’ll make it!” Badim yelled into his mic as he heard Morgan acknowledge.
He looked to his right and saw H6 standing over him, lifting him to his feet as they darted away from the blaster firing from the same window Badim had exited from. Badim and H6 rushed through the streets of Nar Shaddaa towards the landing pad The Shape had taken temporary shelter on.
Badim ordered H6 to run ahead and set up inside The Shape and give cover fire for him when he arrived. The droid quickly acknowledged and followed the command.

Another bolt singed past Badim’s ear, burning the comlink off almost with his ear as well. The melting mass sparked and plopped to the ground as Badim pressed a hand to his burnt ear. Nothing Bacta can’t fix, he muttered in his head as he kept running until he saw The Shape, a fresh paintjob covering up a few distinct markings to better disguise it, floating several feet off the ground and ready to dart out of there with Badim onboard. Clare’s hand was extended as with Jevan, H6 letting loose a series of shots to deal with his pursuers, but not before Badim got the joining point between the landing pad and the rest of Shaddaa and he heard the distinct Tink, Tink. Badim dove forward as far as he could, before the following explosion began to melt away at the landing pad‘s joint and the sound of grinding metal chilled Badim.
He looked up to see The Shape had been blown away a dozen meters and slowly coming back. Badim stood and almost toppled over as the supports began to give way. Jevan emerged from the ramp with a cable with a hook on it and yelled, “Here! Catch this!” he tossed it and it slipped down instead of towards Badim and fell limp. Clare desperately began to try pulling it up to throw it again, and another jerk from the landing pad below reassured Badim he didn’t have much time.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he uttered as he primed his legs to run. He brushed Clare’s cloak off and ran forward, jumping off the ledge of the landing pad just as it fell to the underworld below in a solemn, creaking echo.

Time slowed and Badim flew into the air, the cable slipping in his as he tried to grip it. Nothing Bacta can’t fix, he quickly uttered in his head as he clamped down on the cable just before it came out of reach. He heard the landing pad below crash, and the screams of Clare as she thought she lost him.
He slowly climbed the cable as The Shape began to hover, Morgan exiting the cockpit with Norrteth to see if Badim had made it. Blaster bolts still rang out for a moment as H6 finished off the last guard that had tried to kill Badim, and nearly did. It also served to make sure no one got sight of The Shape, or matched it up right away.


Badim came up in front of Clare, on her knees and face buried in her hands. He placed his elbows on the deck and let his legs hang, twisting them into the cable incase he slipped.
“That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.”

“Anesho!” Clare grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up with the help of Jevan. H6 pulled the rest of the cable up as Badim’s head, and possibly Clare’s as well, swam in pleasure as they embraced each other.

Morgan closed the gangplank and looked at the two, pausing for a moment before saying, "Yeah...you two mind a little restraint till we get you two back to Dirod‘s Palace?"

Badim pulled away and Clare helped him up. They’d need to find a communications hub somewhere, contact The Leaper, and get a new cloak for Clare until the bounty was fully lifted. Though, he wondered what might have changed with The Leaper, he and Clare had been gone three days to Telos and Naboo and they found out just about everyone had a bounty on their head. Things can happen fast, he assumed.




(Click Here to Continue Morgan's Story.)

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Tag: Alex, Jess, Cheapy, Butters Butters: Just giving you a look at what Jao'alin looks like, since I didn't know what he looked like so I rolled with it. You can PM me if you had a different thing in mind, or if it's fine the way it is. Alex/Jess/Cheapy: Badim, Clare and H6 will probably not participate in The Tatooine plot. Unless you guys have the Leaper/Raptorgang head back to The Escrow briefly from the cantina, where they pick up the tranmission from Badim (no Clare seen or mentioned in the transmission), they learn of their current location and meet them there on Tatooine in time for the racing...Thingy. Talk to you guys in the assessment room if otherwise! I can hold them off on talking with them until Tatooine's done, let's me concentrate on life for a while

Badim Soilding

Clare Velez

_________________
"No One Deserves To Die, Except For Those Who Do."

[Clare Velez]

Badim, Clare, Jevan and H6 left Dirod’s Tower, heading to a communications hub not far away. Clare stayed close to Badim and behind Jevan and H6, using them as a temporary cloak until they got a real one for her. It didn’t take long, there were plenty of merchants on Shaddaa, and Clare quickly donned her new disguise that she’d need to get used to for a long time. She pulled the hem of her hood over her forehead and turned to Badim. She turned to her side and flexed her arms. What do you think? is what she hoped it came off as.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “Fitting for an assassin.” He smirked. His dark blonde hair ruffled and gleaming in the moonlight of Nal Hutta. He didn’t have his cloak anymore from what he told her, but he, and herself liked the new look he had. A black, slightly loose t-shirt and black pants with lateral white strips on the sides.
Badim had two new additions to his attire: A strap for various items that wrapped around him from torso to hip, and a pair of vibroblades hidden inside a set of gauntlets around his wrists.

Clare tugged around the sleeves around her hands nervously. She had been dead to the entire crew for little more than two weeks. It was going to be as if a beloved relative one hadn’t seen in decades had just shown up, and she was expecting a innumerable amounts of joy and happiness when she saw them again, planning on embracing them each as respectfully as possible, not to the extent of the embraces between she and Badim.

But would they return it? Things still had been uneasy between her and the crew after she kidnapped Badim in an attempt to save them both, and she wondered if they’d welcome her back, and with the apparent show Badim had made on Ord Mantell, would they welcome him back as well? Her head fell heavy, swimming in weighing thoughts of doubt, being brought back to reality with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder.

“What’cha thinking about?” Badim said. Clare suddenly realizing she had zoned out and they were almost at the com-hub.

“Nothing, really. Just wondering what it’s going to be like back amongst friends,” she turned to Jevan behind her, “You’ll probably like it with The Leaper, Jevan. Lots of good people for a good cause.”

Jevan stopped, figuratively, and gave her a simple smile, “Not my thing. ‘sides, despite how much I truly hate it, I need to get a ride to Corulag and see my family. With Zend back and everything, and you teaching me how to use a blaster better, I should be able to find a place for them to hid elsewhere in the Galaxy and just wait the war out,” he began to walk in a different direction, holding a credit chit in his hand that he had found in Dirod’s Tower to get off the planet, “Besides! If they’re as badass as you were on Carratos, you’re all way too much for me anyways. Catch ‘cha later, see you all in the Galaxy somewhere.”

“Bye, Jevan. Take care.” Clare said sentimentally at the departure of an ally and a man who helped her find Badim again, a friend. She seemed to be making a lot of friends lately since she joined Badim on The Killer‘s Fate a month or so ago. First Badim, Dia--Sara as it were now, The Blight Leaper Crew, H6 and now Jevan Corr.
She could probably consider Nik Starskimmer and Amara Selanno, to a lesser extent Senna Vucora, as friends as well. She remembered having flavored conversations with Amara before they left Rhen Var and joined The Blight Leaper, being Shaddaaian born as well. Clare wondered if they were going to see them again, though, it was a small Galaxy, figuratively, and it was likely they would.

The holocom-hub didn’t seem to slow in pace or in occupation. The last time they were on Shaddaa and Badim contacted The Leaper, it was just about as packed as the hub they went to. Badim went to an open console and typed in a code: 12874. Clare scoffed and turned away. If she had just kept her mind set on Carratos and not canceled the connection early, likely leading her to The Leaper sooner than hopping around Shaddaa, pulling strings to prepare the ruse to attract Badim to them. She sighed, all in the past.
“H6,” Badim said, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, “Give me the code to The Escrow.”
“Acknowledgement: Yes, Master.”
“The Escrow?” Clare asked.

H6 stepped in front of the console and began to type in an encrypted, and long communication’s code to the ship. Badim turned to Clare and answered, “Sethe’s ship. Not too fancy, and only single bunks.”
Clare smirked, “We’d manage.”
Badim chuckled, but scoffed when he heard H6 came up with nothing as well. He looked at H6, then the console.
“You’re still connected to the comlinks of the crew, right?” Badim probably knew he was correct, and continued without an answer, “Contact Lucas.”

Tag: Alex

Clare Velez

Badim Soilding