Stench of Hutt Poodoo in the Air

[Sen Oisel]

Evening waved it's majestic dimness over the land. The sun ran a tide into the distance, eclipsed in view by the stew of buildings. Admix of critters and humanoids danced through the ecumenopolis. Some linger in speeders, while others took amble on the durasteel sectors. Droid's could be heard chirping away at work, the sounds managing to pierce through the field of the Midget Brow's hull.

Expertise overwhelmed my fatigue, pushing my hands across the levers. A click of the control panel, and I managed to shift the shuttle into a blast above the skyscrapers. Flung in a whirlwind of pilot savvy, the ship jetted through the underline of traffic and dashed beyond the depths of architecture below. Brisk maneuvers pressed the freight amidst the gloom of The Works.

Field of industrial plants seasoned the land with distinct profusion. Absurd smells were funneled by the vent, for the most part, but some trickled through. A distasteful aroma ruffled my nose as I took in an exhausted breathe and sighed. Although I had managed to gain much needed sleep, the slumber was not truly effective. Despite adept notions, there was not much keeping me from dropping my hand on the control panel.

On the planetary map beside me, projected from the holopad, sat a way point. Over the flight the frequency from the Nym's headquarters had been sent, and provided all the necessary information for the ship's movements. Soon, we would be off into hyperspace again and on our way to Kashyyk. Maybe then I could catch up on some sleep.

After an eased landing on the nearest building top, I activated the ship's energy shield. The heavily modified shields would provided much more than the necessary to protect against the expected futile attempts of gangs and thief. Midget Brow was not precisely a shuttling piffer, but it was decent enough to get a cowardly thief's mouth watering.

"Time to go..."

[Artisn]

Throughout the trip after the mishap, Feruaj kept away from Sen. Anytime they were in a room together, he left. It was only best to avoid the conflict until it seemed fitting to spark another conversation. Beside the very skewed view of his vengeance, their was a clear understanding that the punch was not absolutely necessary.

He could have at least laid his bulging fist somewhere else on the Captain's body. The nose was frail, fragile and weak spot.

The landing was no different. Instead of clustering around the cockpit with interest, he rested in his room fiddling about with the blasters he had managed to run off Anaxes with. In another lifetime he was a weapon specialist for the few companies. Designing them wasn't hard, and understanding their mechanics were the least of his troubles.

[PD-A4]

A flick of the manufactured wrist, and the plank popped out of position. Slowly treading to the floor, it pressed into a perfected diagonal for easy exit and entrance. During their moderately short stay A4 would be guarding the door as the other's headed off.

Maybe he could do a few more checks about while they were away.

[Sen Oisel]

The gangplank was ready, but I wasn't. After a quick dash from the cockpit, I was rummaging about the main deck. Even though the trip would be small, there was a need for a few light things to pack. On my belt I carried my datapad, equipped with the required information from downloaded data cards. But for the life of me I could not find my blaster.

Before my bucket head brother fell in some assault, he sent a few gifts back home. All the purpose of joining the Imperial Army was to gain some credits, and he did. Purchases ranged from all over the galaxy as he traveled, commonly sending messages through absurd frequencies. It was a trip back then, but their was not much to his name anymore, beside the blaster. A DH-23, and though I wasn't an ace there was much to love about the durable pistol.

Despite it's setbacks to the DH-17, it was a tighter, more compact exchange to the weak structure of it's predecessor. Although it hadn't gotten me out of trouble yet, it was well worth scavenging for before I took a walk through "The Works". Gangs, squads and foolish buffoons tattered the streets around the industrial highway, and no man was certainly safe. It was a perfect place for a pick-up, but not for the smuggler there.

A grumble rumbled my throat as I knelled, peering into an open cabinet. After an abrupt close, I went back into a studious mode, leaping from side-to-side. Finally I found the DH-23 resting inside the refrigerator. Somehow I forgot that was where I was putting all my weapons.

"Now," I began, grabbing up my pilot jacket from a nearby chair. People had told me when I first bought it that Han Solo had been seen with it on as well, but of course my own was cooler. I mean...I'm me.

"...I'm ready." And so the DH-23 was holstered as I headed slowly toward exit's corridor. The other's better get up, or they would be running about The Works by themselves.

[Artisn]

Feruaj watched carefully. Standing in the darkness afar from the view of the Captain, his hand shuffled with weaponry. Time had given him the boredom to preoccupy himself, and weapons were the idle choice. Cleaning them had become of the many hobbies he had.

Yet they could not be used, though it was certain it may come to that. Any closer movements with the Captain and another brawl could set out. So, instead, he stood afar and watched as the pilot headed from the main deck to the gangplank. He would follow, but at the back of the bunch.

Soon the other's would ready themselves for the departure and he would follow suit. Until then, he simply polished the hardware in silence.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

After maybe four or five hours of sleep right on the workbench, head slumped on his arms, Sprocket Gearhead awakened with a start. From his vantage point, he could see the Besalisk polishing the hardware, or in Sprocket's case, large weapons. That couldn't be good. Reaching to the rebreather mask and vocabulator, Sprocket made some final recalibrations and adjustments before fitting the durasteel plating over the exposed hardware, like a hatch on the engine of a landspeeder. A few tested words, mostly whispered, and a word or two at normal tone, and a few other inflections, and the Ewok's mask was complete. It was fully functional. Smiling under the perfectly fitted mask, Sprocket then took out a weapon from his pack. It was a simple, primitive weapon: a sling. It would be all he needed, but Sprocket wanted to make a few modifications. Sprocket quickly welded and cooled together a few pieces of metal and a few pieces of fexicord, with a patch to connect the four flexicord pieces, and a fitted laser pointer lens inside the handle, just above it. And his new slingshot was ready. The patch was adjustable for varying pieces of ammunition. Wait, ammunition.....Reaching into a receptacle, he found small scrap pieces of metal usable for bullets. And the ammunition was complete.

Taking a shop-rag and some metal and rubber cleaner/polisher, Sprocket began to clean off the newly-worked slingshot and mask. Everything was ready. Now to pack.

Hopping down from the stool, Sprocket fixed himself a large flask of water and a pack of trail rations, and tied it all to a knapsack. He was ready.

Stepping out of his workshop, Sprocket approached Sen. And his automated yet personable voice spoke.

"I'm ready to go. How's you nose?"

[Sen Oisel]

A smirk wrinkled my lips as I glanced down at the small fur bag. Sprocket was a genius. In only a night's work he managed to configure scraps into a genuinely personable module. Conversations would be a lot easier, but hopefully the vocal works would be a bit less mechanical as upgrades came. Didn't matter much, I was more proud of his success.

Sprocket was definately diamond in the rough. A fleet of foolish buffoons were to accompany me. Not that I hadn't become fond of them all, even the nose-smasher, but Sprocket would be certainly be worthwhile acquaintance. The others seemed like they carried a bit more baggage than one hand could handle.

"It's fine, it's fine," I said, reassuring him. Sprocket was a caring character, and deserved the same in return.

"So ya ready to go, Kit-master?"

Coming up with nicknames was a habit of mine, and Sprocket deserved it.

[Artisn]

Feruaj watched cautiously from afar down the depths of the corridor. Shadows casted him into oblivion, unseen by the converse between the Ewok and pilot. In moments the whole bunch would be gone, so swiftly he headed toward his quarters.

Bagging his weapons and required equiptment, he latched the pack on his back. He was ready to go as much as Sen and Sprocket.

[PD-A4]

A4 was like any other droid, as diligent as he could be. So, in utter silence he observed the Ewok. Beside the amusement the little furry creature had gave him previously, the Ewok was intelligent. Despite the rather large power of upgrades to his A.I, he was still quite setback in rival to other models.

He hoped when the crew returned he could convese with the Ewok aswell. A few upgrades and problems ravaged his circuits, and the protocol droid was certain Sprocket was a perfect canidate to work on him.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Sprocket nodded, his fur waving slightly with it. And his keen sense of smell got a scent of oil, but not the oil and rubber cleaner that he used. It was for another weapon. And it came from the direction where the Besalisk slept. He was probably up and getting ready. No worries. He patted his belongings.

"Yep. I'm ready when everyone else is..."

[Sen Oisel]

"They can catch up."

Before the courteous Ewok could rebut, I sacked my idle hands in my pockets and headed down the steps. A messenger bag banged against my back as I walked down the tilted gangplank. Night engulf the sky. Darkness contorted by unique clouds of smoke seasoned the heavens, and only a dimly lit moon illuminated through the disgusting puffs.

Industrial regions were polluted with troubles, beyond the one of company buildings. Although the vapor haul a malodor, the true blight resided across the street. Waste from every sector of the planet trickled into the terrace. On their rear laid pitfalls, depleted dreams and impoverished life. Dire views deluged The Works commoner, leaving gangs to be affiliated and more trouble on their plates to digest.

Disgust manged to dismantle my proud character. Abomination could be felt in the very air and step. Gas perfumed the radiated avenue's below as the young puffed cigarra's. Help was futile, so I could only stare over at the bizarre affairs. Anaxes and Coruscant both sustained an ecumenopolis, but the planets could not be any different. Pols Anaxes did have it's scum, but the Imperial Center was different.

Abhor spoil the lesser sectors of the Empire's capitol. Only moments ago I flew over the delicacy, in awe at my return to the place I once called home. The injustice of the metropolis outskirts veiled an infernal contrast. Even Captain Obvious would notice the distinction in a blink.

I wonder how the Kit-Master took it. Although I never had been to The Works before, nor Endor, tales spilled from both areas. The differences couldn't be more evident.

"How you doin'?" I asked as I headed to the lift that would take us down. Soon we'd be with the contact and off the dust ball.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Sprocket, adjusting his mask, looked around the terrain. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced on Endor. The air was polluted and smoggy, even more difficult to see than Endor's misty mornings. And the buildings were everywhere. Not a tree, rock, or natural formation in sight. The air was being filtered through the mask, but Sprocket could still smell the difference. The air was used and dirty, and would probably never be the same as Endor, even if they made better air purifiers.

"Oh, I'm just fine. The air and the planet isn't though. How it remains truly alive and in orbit is a mystery to me....."

Sprocket had his slingshot on his belt, clipped off to the side. It was drawable at a moment's notice. And Sprocket was ready for a fight, though he would simply find cover and make opportunistic shots. Such was his way.....the way of a smaller creature. Use every advantage that you could.....

[Sen Oisel]

A click and the we were down to the abandoned building. Groans wheezed from the lift as it screech down. Anguish was even in the blueprint of the place. Shattered durasteel, once a wall, pressed to the side as we exit the horrid elevator. Through the freakish tower, mistaken for old structure, I kept my hands to my pocket. Tending to the lent with a fiddle of my fingers, I curiously inspected the surroundings.

Much of the room was barren, but the chirps of transported lesser womp rats could be heard echoing from the corners of the dim room. A single light illuminated from the center of the room, providing the necessary shine to walk carefully through. It was only required to be cautious in such terrifying settings. The place seemed fitting for a Horror Holovids or something.

I never liked those darn vids.

A snort and my composure returned. Leaning out the door, Sprocket and I found ourselves in the traffic of flesh. People rushed through the streets. A wholesome family gripped tightly on their groceries as they headed home. Mom and kids, faces converted to frowns as their steps steadily increased in speed. It was only required as a crowd of vile scum took amble in follow of them.

For the most part the bunch were sub-adults. One wasn't much older than 10 from the looks of his youthful face. However, they all carried the same scum that had become well known to my eyes since my days as an Outlaw Tech. The boy followed the crowd without a care, unusual hatred managing to tatter the once angelic nature of his eyes. It was a pity.

All I could do was shake my head. My hands delved in different business, and being a hero just wasn't my job. A glance down at the Ewok, then I swallowed my optimism. The Works already had managed to drain something from me. Hopefully it wouldn't do much more.

[Artisn]

Feruaj kept behind, but drifted out of the ship. His eyes followed in twarted frustration, surveying the Ewok and Sen. They were moving at a steady pace, and like the Bounty Hunter he once was he lurked.

When business was to be taken care of, he would show up on their side. Until then he was trickle in the crowd to be mixed up with the others. He still was unsure if Sen was angry about the punch. Despite it all, the Captain was his ride throughout the galaxy and held the keys to a safe haven. He did get even, but things seemed out of whack.

All the thoughts troubled him as he carefully observed and moved prudently.

[Litika Dor]

Litika sighed. She hadn't been able to get much information out of Oisel as to why they were actually here...some contact from whom some kind of information could be gleaned for some purpose or other...Sen had been very vague. She was pretty sure he hadn't actually said the words "Imperial City" until they were in orbit around it, and from that second on she had politely demurred from accompanying the boys on their run. (Her exact refusal had been something like, "Yeeeeeeeah, you guys have fun in that hellhole. If you think I'm going with you you're out of your gorram frelling minds. And I'm not coming after you if you get eaten by Cthon. Just sayin'.")

So now Litika watched warily as the short-fused Besalisk shuffled off the Midget Brow several minutes after Sen and Sprocket. She rather wished the little Ewok had stayed here with her; she well knew that Ewoks were pretty amazing at taking care of themselves, but The Works was not Endor. There were no zombies on Endor. She was pretty sure there wasn't much toxic smog, either.

But Sprocket had seemed keen to follow the captain into hell's butthole, so Litika just shrugged and sealed the ship after Ter.

She ambled up to the cockpit and flung herself into the copilot's chair. She heard a rickety whirring pass by in the corridor.

"Yo, A4!" she hailed the walking tin can. The whirring paused, and the droid's dully shining head popped back round the corner.

"Looks like it's just you and me, good buddy." Litika grinned. She liked droids, but A4 was just too easy to mess with.

[Sen Oisel]

"Frag, watch ya self."

I spat with sudden vigor as a hoverboard sped past with a Dug flipping about it's top. All the athleticism in the world, and the stupid Dug used it to fly past me. Nothing about it made sense. However, I didn't dwell long on the puzzled moment. Turning about, I treaded on with Sprocket at my side.

There was business to be taken care of, so my mouth kept shut. Sprocket and I hadn't talked much since the depature, but it did not bug me. My mind was overwhelmed with other subjects, such as the smog. Every breathe was another new toxin that was foreign.

A swallow kept my building disgust at bay as we turned around a corner toward the barren building at the end of the block. The industrial terrian was decimated with horrid air from such structures. And here we were required to venture to for a lenghty conversation with an unknown man. All of it was a bit suspicious, but it was my first job. I couldn't demand much.

[Araib Musbunig]

A life of troubles had captured Araib since his involvement with the unique company of his. Smuggling operations had sent him on foreign worlds, dazzled by their beauty as he provided them with healthy products. Many worlds had been encompass by the gross of the New Order and their civilians required non-taxed items.

Araib had always been there to provide, gain supply and fly off through unknown routes. Despite it all, he felt like a hero. He was in many respects the opposite to the smuggler stereotype.

He loved to be unique, but now he was just another puppet. After a run-in with a dastardly devilish figure, he found himself without any options. The Empire had taken a grasp on him, and here he was on the Imperial Center, in The Works of all places to deliver some supply.

All of it was a bit too much for him to understand, but business was business. He had to keep his lekku on, and that was all that matters. Scowl formatted his broad features as he remembered about the threat from the tall man.

Man, the things he got himself into.

[Artisn]

Feruaj's eyes switched from side to side. He headed in only moments after the Ewok and Sen did. Time had come to reveal himself as he traveled through the workshops and lines of inactive droids.

Soon the contact would expose himself, and he would be there to see him.

[Sen Oisel]

Every step was done with delicancy. The beat of my feet were at a complete lull. Time had given me the chance to examine the plan. In the back of my mind I rambled on about the numerous possibilities. A trap was always plausible, and at moments time my quick reflexes could supply a shot to the dome. Cautious as could be, I carried myself with Ewok by myself toward nearby steps.

The blueprint of the warehouse had given me all the required information to drift to meeting grounds at the height of the once bustling industrial building. Fumes of once active assembly lines gave my nose a new tingle. Tickled by the aroma forced me into a respire, before pushing a swinging door open. The stubby legs of the furry comrade dashed in before me, as I followed close behind.

One step, then a turn and we were there. Designs rampage the room. Fashionable aritcles richocheted through, symbolized in dangling drapes and carpet finery. Lamps hung at the door atop Kashyykian wooden tables. Refined sofa sat in the middle of the room with a memorable Twi'lek pressed into it's embrace. The new stitching gave my eyes something to tumble over, but my feet moved with grace.

Dropping into the opposing seat, the Ewok sat behind me. The room had been fitted such for this occasion, just for this action. And so, I began.

"The supplies, sir?"

[Artisn]

Feruaj stood at the door, silence restraining his thoughts. On his back he still carried the weaponry that could very well be necessary in moments to come.

A snarl framed his face as he watched from afar. Soon the purpose of this trip would be shown. Already talk of supplies had intrigued him.

[Araib Musbunig]

Araib's arms lay cross over his chest, and his legs corresponded. The gentlemen nature taught from his father's prestigious background was on perfect display. A practiced motion was carried about him as he smoothly reached for a drink before him. The wine that linger in the glass was of a dark crimson, nearly peeking into a dead rose peddle red.

A sneer crossed his lip as he stared ahead at the sitting man. After a decent sip, his eyes slipped to the side for a milisecond before focusing back on the moment at hand.

"You can come in too Besalisk brute."

[Artisn]

Not a moment had passed and he had been found. A sigh escaped him as he could no longer evade the obvious. He would have to see Sen. Besalisk weren't particularly sneaky, but he felt he carried all the stealth necessary to wiggle his way in unnoticed.

Two big steps later and the shine of the lamps shimmer to his side. Feruaj was exposed, and ready to accommodate his Captain in the rather obscure ventures.

[Araib Musbunig]

Araib did not flinch as the large brute appeared from the darkness. Instead, he peered at the man across him. There was business to be taken care of, and it showed in his voice. He spoke with sudden haste.

"Supplies, huh?"

The lekku moved slightly. It meant something, but he would keep it secretive. "We've documented your landing quarters. The goods should be flown over by a droid pilot."

[Sen Oisel]

Beside the surprise, I did not turn my head when Feruaj entered. Neither the Besalisk or Twi'lek could be trusted, and keeping my eyes straight ahead was the only chance to maintain a defensive stance. Impulse and reflexes was all I need to avoid a possible onslaught, which I expected.

Despite the rather abrupt start to the conversation, a trap was still viable end. There wasn't room for a slip up.

"And..."

I replied, my hands gripping at the end of the seat as I leaned in. Lingering for a moment, the silence began it's content spread from the end of my sentence into the barren room. Cold air emitt from the air cleansers, carrying off like a breeze. The feel gave me a calm, allowing me to proceed.

"What is the shipment of?"

[Araib Musbunig]

"Blasters."

There was much to be thought. Not everything had been divulged, but Kashyyk was in certain need of weaponry. An assault had been reformed on the planet, and a Rebellion resurged. Wookie weren't exactly the easiest foe in battle. Since the Emperor's demise the rise of competition to the Empire had grown about the Mid and Outer Rim.

People no longer entrusted the Empire with it's safety even in the Inner Rim worlds. Civilizations needed a reformation fast, so to fasten their seatbelt for the ride through the Galactic Civil War. The only visible option beside the Emperor was Mon Momtha, and so planets choosed.

Araib did not meddle with such Galactic troubles though. Instead, he rumbled in an underworld of scum and villany as a heroric figure. Displeasure caught him at every turn despite is rather noble smuggles. It was the very reason he was bribed into talking to the stupid, young Captain anyways. All the inquiry, it was unnecessary. Any youth should jump at the possibility to be a spacer. What was so different about this one to be nosy?

"Shipment of weaponry of all kind for the Wookiee Rebellion, and ration to support their large stomaches during the upcoming war seasons.

Now you wanna leave now. There is a lot of work to do..."

[Sen Oisel]

Something wrestled with my senses, but I stood. Once more my pockets were warmed by the nestle of my hands. The comfortable slacks supplied a fitting warmth in the cool room. Soon we would be outside, so outside the demeanor would maintain a reserve. Preserving yourself in such an arena was hard when wildly flailing about. Even the slightest shimmer of confidence could be shattered.

The best idea was to maintain a calm, which wasn't hard. Tutelage from my brother had gave me the required utilities to sustain composure under pressure. An Outlaw Tech lifestyle was filled with perils and checks. Overtime was life in itself, as Stormtroopers took suspicion to the ventures out into Sluis Van system. Justified searches pester my brother so, but he contained a smile amidst all the confusion.

The bucket heads never carried much respect. They rummaged through our clothes, knocked down lamps and quickly plummeted out the door without as much of a hello. At a young age I had become use to it. Anytime I saw the shimmering white I simply shrugged it off, and continued on. One day I wouldn't have to deal under their absurd methods. I would go above it, and this mission was just another step in that ideal plateau.

Leaning forth as I turned, I offered a respectable nod and was on my way. Sprocket followed beside, allowing me to provide him a reassuring smile. Everything was going to be alright if we kept our good ol' faithful blasters by our sides.

[Artisn]

Feruaj kept his eyes studious in remark to the peculiar affairs. Diligent maneuvers weren't kin to the Besalisk frame, but he turned with a sense of grace as the conversation ended. Stone still as the partner comrades walked past, he turned his head about. Slime dripped as his lips ran in thirst across his charred lips. A menacing gaze pierced through his two biddy orbs, weighed down by his husky brows.

Snortle snarled his lip as the two comrades drifted off into the darkness outside the door. Slowly he followed, his hunched back turning his gait into a vice strut. Down the steps and outside, the separated crew came to a halt outside the vast world. Gas permeated from the mass as the smog from the warehouse behind them continued to pump. Droids could be heard returning to activity in their assembly behind them.

"So, the hull-scrap was an active work place, eh?" Feruaj mused, his appendages dangling about as the squad headed carefully through the hectic streets.

"Aye..." He finally called, his eyes falling on the shorter Captain. There was a tense, uncertainty in his groggy voice. The two needed to discuss something, so with a switch of his step he aligned himself beside Sen.

[Sen Oisel]

"Yah...I know. We're even."

[PD-A4]

A chirp drizzled over the A4's vocal system. The eyes of the mechanical being lit with idea. There was much to be done around the hold, but it could all be carried out as soon as the Captain requested. Meanwhile, he would invade Litika's privacy.

"I'm going to mess with your satchel and room, Miss Dor," He projected. A neutral tone resonated in his vocal module as he pressed on through the corridors toward Litika's private room.

There was not much to do, and amusing himself was a priority of his that fell a bit behind his owner's commands.

[Sen Oisel]

Before an eerie quiet consumed the cluster, I broke it. Offering my brown pair to the side, I gazed down at the miniature genius. There was much to learn about this furball, and even more to gain.

"So, whats the story with you?"

A smirk lifted the side of my mouth. Time to pry. "How did you find yourself away from ol' The Forest Moon?"

[Litika Dor]

Litika blinked, then shot out of her chair after the droid. She was considerably more nimble.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, hold on there, chrome dome...just who do you think gave you permission to snoop around my stuff? If I want you to see something, I'll show it to you."

She raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Oisel put you up to this?"

[PD-A4]

PD-A4 was a character. Many owners before Captain Oisel had taken to messing with his internal system and personality chips. Even made it a bit more interactive. He changed over time, and now he was a manufacture menace. Well...an annoyance really.

"Maybe...maybe not?"

The A4 suddenly body took to an alert. The Lannik had a certain distaste for sirens with their big ears, and it was perfect for such an occasion. Sounds blared from his vocal module as he used his large body to rush through Litika. Pushing her aside, he put his bolts to work as he wiggled into the room.

Grabbing up the satchel nearby the bed, he dumped it over the mattress.

"Ah...what is this."

[Litika Dor]

"Oy!!" Litika jumped back from the zooming automaton, then instantly shot after him. "Droid, do not make me break you down into your component screws!"

Wheeling into her room, she reached out and snatched her now-empty bag out of the droid's metal clutches.

"I said, stay out of my room! I will not hesitate to shut you down and reboot your entire system if I have to. Now, out!"

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Sprocket kept quiet for a time, until he was addressed. It allowed him to get a better assessment of the situation. A situation was something like a busted part: if you sat back, and paid attention to what was there and what wasn't there, you would understand it fully, and would be able to either fix it accordingly, or scrap the damned thing. Being spoken to, Sprocket gave the answer in his new, amiable, droid-like voice.

"Well, basically, I was exiled. My tribe found functioning droids, and worshipped them as gods. I thought that something seemed odd. I couldn't feel the life in them. You know, the feel between something alive and something dead? It's tangible, yet intangible, that feeling you get. Well, I got that feeling with the droids, and so, at night, when the tribe was asleep and I took the night watch, I worked on them, fixing them with nothing more than sticks and rocks. It worked for a bit, but one kinda went haywire and awakened the tribe. They saw me working on the bodies, and thought the worst: that I had angered the gods. They attempted to sacrifice me on the spot. But something else happened. The droid's systems went haywire, and ordered me freed. And when I got free, I ran. I ran my legs off. And after a time of living alone, I decided to leave the planet. There was nothing left for me there."

Sprocket looked outward, surveying the desolate place they were in.

"And basically, I stowed away on several ships, picking up Basic as I went along. Unfortunately, my mouth was unable to speak it, so I had to find other means of communicating. And I did. And I had to be useful when found, so I began to play with the mechanical parts, and found that I was innately good at fixing them, or modifying them, whatever was needed. And then I ran into you, Mr. Oisel. And here we are. You know the rest."

Sprocket moved his rebreather mask long enough to take a small swallow of water. He wiped his lips slightly, before offering up the container to Sen.

[Sen Oisel]

People always amazed me. From the smallest of children that embody the essence of life, to the old who had experienced it all. Despite my rather unconventional encounters throughout my short life, I had dealt with a wide array of characters. Story after story was dispelled. Simpletons were far from simple, and commoners weren't very common. Everyone was so unique, and Sprocket was no different.

However, his story gave me a smile. The details held an eloquence, even in the distinct and irregular voice. In him he carried a tale of a wilderness that I had never saw before. A religion unheard of beyond his world.

And still, he was polite. After the lengthy details, my focus was derailed by an offering. The container of water was a nice gesture, but with a motion of my hand I courteously denied.

"Man, what a story..." The smile on my face had not left. Instead it grew, but was soon diverted to a neutral line as a small beep alerted me. Grabbing at my datapad, I glanced over it as a reminder illuminated the screen. There was deeds to be done.

Grabbing at my comm. link I called at the ship. The frequency reformatted as the linkage was made and I awaited.

"Hey guys, were gunna be head'n to the shop at the corner to get some supplies for the ship. So head in there while I make this call to the Midget Brow.

Aiight?"

[Artisn]

Feruaj didn't listen, he didn't care. The tale was like any other to him. He had heard them all, and his ears only awoke to the sound of the beep. Heading off, he drifted toward the shop at the corner.

"Lin-Jibs Turntables?" The Besalisk read, his hands dangling at his side still. This time he did not wait for the Ewok and pushed in. Browsing around wouldn't do anyone harm, especially when there wasn't anything safe to do outside in such a crappy sector.

[PD-A4]

The comm. link sent another loud alert throughout the ship's interor. If the A4 was a human a smirk would've found it's way onto his face. With sudden haste he grabbed up the many items in the gulp of his steel arms and dashed out the room.

"Go get the comm, meatbag."

[Sprocket Gearhead]

The Ewok watched as the Besalisk lumbered into the turntable shop. Meanwhile, the Ewok put away the bottle, nodding to Sen. He watched as the grin left Sen's face, to an unfeeling expression. Sprocket's large, black eyes narrowed as the voice ebbed out of the mask.

"What is the matter?"

[Litika Dor]

"HOLY SH--!!" Litika yelled after the droid. She was torn between running to answer the comm and going after that hunk of walking scrap to take him apart bit by bit. Finally she heaved an enormous sigh and ran to the cockpit to pick up the comm.

"Oisel, you'd better get back here and get your damn robot on a leash!! He's looting through my things! If you can't get him under control, then I'm getting off the ship right here and you can fly the damn thing yourself!"

Meanwhile Litika sunk a corner of her mind back, back into black velvet, into reverse-colors and feelings which lit up brighter than the Imperial City gaming strip. She saw everything in individual shades, everything, a million different colors. She filtered out everything non-mechanical...then filtered out the ship...aha. There he was...back in some corner near his own hidey hole.

Speaking into the comm again, she said more calmly, "I'll just be shutting him down until your return. Fix him or I'm off this tub. Now...what did you need?"

And with a delicate flip of a mentally-visible switch, Litika deftly toggled PD-A4's actual power button, and she saw the droid's electrical life spark and flicker into inactivity.

"Gotcha, y'little yr'gano..."

[PD-A4]

The items went flailing about the main deck's corridor as A4 toppled to the ground. Gravity collapsed on his cold shoulders and left him splattered across the floor like defeated gundark.

[Sen Oisel]

"Nothin," I whispered to the Kit-Master, handing over the datapad with the list of required supplies to be found in the store.

Returning my focus back to the craziness on the ship, my eyes drifted off through the smog that clutter the area. One moment, and everything turns upside down.

"I was going to tell you that I had some fare stashed in the droid for you to request a slicer with about this flight to Kashyyk.

Don't turn him off until I get there."

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Sprocket heard this.

"INSIDE the droid? Oh, I can do that. Even if it's information. Give me five clicks with a diagnostic datapad and my toolkit, and it'll be taken care of. But I have a feeling that for some odd reason, the droid is already, in fact off. That may be a good thing. Now that I think of it, I think the droid set a trap for me when I tried to find the vocabulator for this mask. It was underneath the bed that the Besalisk was on. It was stuck. If I would've made too much noise, then it would've been me suffering the broken nose and not you, Mr. Oisel."

Sprocket took another sip of the water before turning to the shop.

"I'll see you inside, Mr. Oisel."

[Litika Dor]

Litika swore.

"Too late. I'll reboot him when you get here...but you'd better tell him to keep his metal mitts off my stuff."

[Sen Oisel]

There was not much to offer than a pity smirk. At the thought that my little ol' droid had gotten into so much trouble was awkward. He was unique amongst the bunch during my purchase, and since he had succumb me to laughter. The Lannik product was a character. Unlike any droid I had talked to before.

He was a bit more than a simple protocol droid to me. Over the little time we held, he had become a fond member of my company. The pack of scrap was a friend, and a weird one at that. One day I hoped to Savage his memory, since he chunks of spare thoughts missing. The make-up of his internal systems was foreign to me, even as a keen mechanic.

"Yah," I mused as I watched the Ewok head off toward the shop. Soon I'd be in with them, lurched over to peer through shelves, and bend to get a few items. Ship and other miscellaneous supplies were necessary, but also annoying purchases.

"Okay then, I will. Now put on somethin' sexy, because the gangs comin' home."

And the comm. link was finished. The end had to be added. My thoughts were at a disarray and I needed somthing to put a smile on my face.

[Artisn]

An Elomin sat idle behind a counter, his hand giving him the necessary support to keep his head from falling splat on the glassed surface. Nothing about the shop stuck out. Across the walls behind him hung a flux of engineering pieces and utensil. In the next room all sorts of items were placed in awkward containers.

The place was a unique shop, but such places weren't abnormal. Feruaj had taken to all sorts of places for tools to carry out orders for weaponry and military officials. All of it was a bit rural to tell the truth. All sort's of random objects ravaged the shop. It just seemed very disorderly.

"Hey, horn head," and so the disrespect began. The Besalisk had nothing to fear. He still had his blasters, and the Elomin didn't have the skills to beat him down. At every turn the brute would be doing him...

Bullying people.

[Sen Oisel]

The conversation ended quickly, and I was off. Heading in beside the Ewok, I took my eyes about the room.

"Ay, gimme that datapad real quick. Maybe I wont have to walk around the whole store to find one thing, eh?"

[Sprocket Gearhead]

And while they were making themselves the attention of the entire store, the small form that was the Ewok Sprocket Gearhead made his way through the store, looking at the various pieces. Unlike his counterparts, Sprocket loved looking around through the stores. As he looked about, he noted that there was a nice set of tools. One of the best tool sets in the galaxy, rated for use in the various interests that tech specialists were involved in. A great find. But too pricey. Way too pricey. They were asking double for it. So, Sprocket made sure that no one else was looking, before using his tools to quickly and quietly take down the display, pilfuring the tools, sliding them into his cloak with no problem. He reassembled the display, leaving his old belt, save for the slingshot, rations and water, and other tools that he kept on his belt. He quickly replaced the knapsack with the water and kept the tech specialist toolkit on him. They would help him greatly. And he also left, in one of his pouches, half of his credits, a more than adequate trade for the value of the kit. He smiled, before taking some grease and smearing it on his tools, to make them look old and to cover up the newness and branding. Giving it a quick glance-over for security devices and finding none, Sprocket continues to look around the store, and finds another interesting find. A chip and hologram projector, made for use on blasters as heads-up displays for the magnification of the scope. It took up less space, and drained less power from the actual blaster itself. And from the miniscule powercell in the slingshot, it would make a great addition to his slingshot. He scooped up the part and took it to the counter, paying for it outright. And without any problems, or anyone noting that he had stolen the toolkit, Sprocket walked back outside, taking sparing sips on his water, still having some credits left to his name.

[Sen Oisel]

After a quick haggling converse, the situation had been resolved. All the required items on the datapad listing were supplied in a fitting bag and we were prepared to go. Sprocket had already paid for his condiments, and was outside.

A shuffle of the feet, and we would be right there beside him. Yet I eased in my movements, hearing the disturbing voice of an exotic language. The Elomin wasn't talking to us, but his tone carried a menacing voice.

Something was up...Someone else was in the store.

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

Emperor's Eyes was an organization instilled with the teachings of the Emperor. The Empire on numerous occasions bestowed the tutelage of it's head to a number of underlings, but the Emperor's demise had sent many into a sense of disarray. Diminutive disorder barrage the hierarchy of the fallen man's kingdom. All was not well in the galaxy that the New Order to vast control over. Rebellions rebooted in the wake of post-Battle of Endor. Troublesome times turned the wholesome into spice fiends, or casted into a tide of peril.

Prevail was irrelevant, and demise was everywhere. Many men vied for more strength in these war times, and it became worst as the heroic figures found their last pitfall at the end of the Death Star II. Darth Vader had even been vanquished by the challenging battle. Stormtroopers had been undone by the entanglement of natives. Despite the unsavory end, there was much to be proud about.

Soldiers continued to walk into the compound of many Rebellion outpost to supply a revered assault. Troopers kept their blasters in hand, keeping the galaxy lawful under the newly formed Marshall law. Dilemma across planetary Rebellion remained futile against the astronomical expenses of combat-ready Imperial defense. No flame couldn't be stomped out by the foothold of the Empire.

Khaowan was just another man with an Imperial insignia and a foot. Words trickled down from the secretive organization, and because of his prestigious claims throughout the Galactic Civil War he drew the short straw. He was here now, prepared to leave the unjust wrinkles ironed away. A blaster was a good accommodation for such ironing.

Multiple red blast spew from the IntCon agent's plated palm. Beneath the guise of his armor sat a ferocious Zabrak, prepared to blast away a content foe. Over the sirens of the oncoming blast came his distinct, bold voice.

"Tell that Ewok to pay!"

[Sen Oisel]

Warped message swarmed through the pulse of my heart. Impulse dazzled through my veins without the needle, giving my heart a boost of acceleration. The usually calm features that flushed my face took to a reformat. Sudden dismay captured my eyes, maximizing them. Keen instinct and reflexes untangled my legs and placed me into a stance with a swiftness parallel to a vonskr.

Dexterity lifted my leg into a falling kneel. Momentum shifted my step into a coil, curling me into a ball. Gravity propelled me forward as my back leg pushed with a blurred haste. Time slowed to a lull as an echo of words was calculated as a siren in my ears. Taken into a spiral, I casted my spin toward the door. A bounce with a sudden push of my hand and I was on my feet.

Behind him shatter glass gave away in a crinkling crash. The blaster bolts pierced with precision beyond the rumored abilities of an ace Stormtrooper. Even as I stared at the peculiar armor, I saw only the Imperial insignia in all it's pride. This man, or woman for that matter, carried all the adept skills to defeat me. Even with the brute of a man beside me, I had no chance.

Ideas wrinkled the crevice of my brain. Thoughts could be heard over speakers in my head and all I could do was listen to myself whisper. Stubbornness kept the statements at bay, but my body began shaking under the sudden acceleration. My senses were attuned and the fallen splatter of glass still resonated. The dark brown gems, mistaken for my eyes, gazed off past the hunter.

The Elomin had fled quickly out the back door, exiting into the mist of smog called air. Sieged by the situation, I gripped cautiously at my blaster. I was certain now. My brother knew what he was talking about when he sent the blaster my way. Granted the situation had turned dire, I could not help but smile at that thought.

Man, I love you brother...

I was ready.

[Artisn]

Duck, squat and ready self. Feruaj strolled off into the other room. For the most part, he was prepared to head out. From what he saw of the blasting fool, he was an Imperial. A lot of time had been spent around the Empire as a mercenary, and the armor was unusual.

That meant only one thing.

"Frell. What in the hell's seven rings have I got'n self inta."

The blasters stayed packed in the bag. He wasn't going to create a violate reaction to this one. Maybe he could just hide and be forgotten amidst all the groceries and items in the room.

[Selinica Miriya]

"Nuah-uh. Ya ain't hidin' today, smutface."

In The Works, you could find yourself face to face with any manner of things. Druggies, petty thieves, unmentionables, and the like. Crazy-seemin' women not to be the least of them. Today, the besalisk would find himself encountering one with a "point" to prove. A very sharp, shiny point.

"Giddup. Common...I ain't got all day t'watch yer weak, cowardin' roadkill-like posterior dawdle. Git movin. And dontcha even think for one splittin' second ta cross me, or you'll wish ya didn't."

Selinica Miriya Cailis seemed to be on the short side of patience today, but unwanted interference made for watered down patience...it's a common occurence when one smells hell and trouble. It was more of a feeling for her, like a knowing. Gifted, or something like it.

[Artisn]

Feruaj had been called a lot of things in his life. Either by villians, or bounty, but smutface was a new one. He despised such insult, especially when a blaster point prevented him from a rebutal.

Keeping his dangling chin fat from moving with the grumble of words, he took to a stand. To the side there would be crossfire, but infront of him was a blaster with the business end pasted across his face.

There was very little choices. Only one idea came to mind.

Carefully he walked back into the other room across, his rear to the woman. Hopefully she held a bit more in her heart to not shoot him in the back and catch herself in the crossfire.

[Sen Oisel]

The moment twisted like a bottle top from second to second. Before I knew it, the dashing Besalisk had returned into the field of blaster fire with his hands up. Surprise rampaged my face as I peered with utter confusion. Something was up.

Before I could glance to the entrance to the other room for another blaster to poke out, I took the pause in crossfire to leap to the side. Grabbing my blaster, I spewed a bolt toward the foe. My expertise did not lay in a pistol, but with ace precision on the call of luck I saw a knick run a snatch across the shoulder. Singe of flame fumed from the aching Zabrak's body as he tumbled slightly.

The slightest of pain always got them. Beside it all, I was simply happy to hit him. Even though I aimed at his knee, I still got him. That was good enough for me.

[Selinica Miriya]

A malicious smile crept on her pretty little face.

"Well, would ya lookit that. Un-cowards. Maybe you should look inta takin' example from these here folk, smutface."

She clapped him gently on the back of the head with her blaster, then returned a few shots herself, all the while something nagging at her that not everyone or everything was entirely as it would seem to the eye around here. But then again, in this neck of the woods, nothing ever was. Surprises were common fare, hereabouts. The man she could see returning fire as well looked a mite bit surprised at the besalisk's return to the room.

"Seems somebody really ain't likin' you, boy. At least ya got the gall to shoot back."

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

An exaggeration gave the trained ace all the necessary manuevers to avoid the oncoming blaster fire. The blast caught him at his shoulder, providing him a kneel as the newly acquainted foe entered the room. A snortle was drowned out behind his masked figure. The anguish was diminutive, but still provided Khaowan with necessary time behind the counter.

Falling back into the break room of the mini-shopping center, he let the blaster pistol drop to the floor. A grit of his teeth sustained the stinging pain to a lull as he rummaged through the artilery he had brought upon the mission. Diverse array of equipment flourished about the hold.

The packages of bandolier and mines weren't exactly required, but the stylish nature gave a smile amidst the profusion abound. To the left of his kneeled body sat a pack of thermal detenators. Assorted from polished to mechanical exteriors, he had been well prepped for an onslaught. Assault was not a speciality of his, but he held a pecuilar hobby in weaponry. Defense was a mandatory in such divine times of Galactic Civil War, and a flaw was in a man's design if they didn't have protection.

Thermal Detenators, were a bit much. However, he liked that.

Grabbing two up, he flung himself back into the room with decisive vigor. Spirals and spins avoided the roar of blaster bolts that darted his way. A moment within the twirls gave him the vital milisecond to initate the coming explosion. Propelling the duo of grenades toward the opposition, he took cover behind a stock of ship equiptment. Pressed against the crate seperating it from the wall, he held the required space from the timed blow to survive without a scratch. Precision was one of his many specialities.

[Artisn]

The clunk to the head was hard, and normally it would have knocked a man clean out. Besalisk were resilent foe, and though the bang gave his brain a rattle he clutched hard onto consciousness as his body nearly toppled to the floor. Gravity began swaying him from side to side as his balance dwadled about.

Grabbing out a post, he heard the memorable thud of the shiny pair banging against the ground. Fear straightened him frame, as his body took to an abrupt outburst. Rushing toward the door, he pushed Sen out the way. A trip and fall, and he was rolling into The Works streets away from the roar of eruption. Hands over ears, and body in a crouch, he was prepared for the horrid clamor from detonation.

[Sen Oisel]

Pressure got to all human beings. It wasn't a simple thing to shrug off, but indoctrine of my brother had allowed me to handle such dilemnia with a less clutter mind. In the cluster of angst, I grappled onto logic. The Besalisk didn't, nor did he recognize the default sense of distrust. In an attempt to save himself, he pushed me out the way.

A snarl would have punished my expression if it wasn't for the purpose. Thermal detenators bounced across the carpeted floor in a shallow clonk. Dryness parched my throat as I reached as far as my hands could. Clutching the newly acquainted woman, I pulled her with sudden might out the door.

We would have to be on the flee to survive this deadly occasion with all our appendages in place. My hand took a tight hold to her wrist as I yanked her out the door into the streets. Heading toward the Ewok I let my grip fall free and instinct carry me. Outstretched arms fell on Sprocket and woman's back, pushing them down to avoid the fly of glass and debris.

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

The shelled menace could be heard in it's deplorable nature banking against the floor. Thermites agitated underneath the misleading facade of the oval shapes began ricocheting with sudden excitement. Soon the implosion would erode the grounds with distorting efforts. A growl emit as the thermal detonators gave into the timing.

A bellow discharged throughout the shop. Ember departed the canister, the detonator's hull encompass in the fury's pit. Center of hearth expanded to devour the realm. Carpet fizzled as the spark rode in invisible haste toward the walls. Tools dropped at the rushed escape from the shells, leaving the echo of sound and shake to throw all the items into a field of chaos.

Decimation gulped the walls paint job, leaving only the waste of auburn drab to remain. Scorching heat lifted to the ceiling and was reclaimed as the wind exerted pressed the remains of the windows into a shatter. Debris sway about in the wild discord. Violate yelps overwhelmed the streets, coating the multiple shots of shattering glass. Even sound was a muddle of unruly life.

Beneath it all sat Khaowan pressed between stock and crates, his eyes closed and ears secured by the armor's helm. He would be fine despite the rather bizarre affairs.

[Sen Oisel]

Distraught managed my face as I peered down. Gust of wind trickled outside of the windows, gathering at my rear. Bent over, I felt the sudden shift in heat nearly scorch my pants clear off.

I was lucky to be alive.

[Artisn]

Shock engross the Besalisk's face as he leaned over in the disasterous blow. Tarnished by the sudden brush of winds, the eruption gave him an unnecessary hearts beat change. A blink, and it was over, but his body had not slowed down so quickly.

Still he was in fight of flight mode, prepared to grow the wings of his ancestors and hover off.

[Selinica Miriya]

As quickly as it happened that her pointed little nose was to the dirt, a slightly angry woman she was, hauling Sen by the collar somewhere a little out of sight, speaking in a gritty whisper.

"Whaddya think I am? Stupid? I saw that comin', boy. Smelt it. Felt dirty-like, slime-ish and tricklin' down yer spine. Twas nice to have the help, but t'ain't like I was needin' it much. You best be keepin' yer mitts to yerself."

She released him, because that slime of which she spoke was most definetly still about. And there was something to suss out about this boy, too. Yep, it was most definetly there.

"What kinda beef he got with ya, anyhow?"

It was doubtless that the chatter was a waste of time, but Miriya wasn't one for caring much.

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

The backroom was a refuge of many devious utensils. Khaowan was prepared to use every last one. In the wake of the explosion, he creped into the dimly lit break area. A freeze came over him, just as before, despite his rather intuitively hemmed armor. Before long he he had returned to the cluster of debris that was once a decent shop.

On his shoulder weighed a demented launcher. Days far gone took the weapon to great use, war running across the galaxy as it did now. The E-60R missile launcher had regularly been associated with the famed battle droids of the Seperatist. Now it was in the hand of a Zabrak, with an unseen glare and content.

The rocket wheezed through the stammer outside, splashing through the few remains of glass as it plummeted forth at the grouping clutter that had escaped outside. Soon they would catch the wraith of the war-time launcher.

[Sen Oisel]

After the tirade settled, I felt an omnious dangerous nestle itself in the air. In one inhale, my body embraced a possession of my instincts once more. Although moments before I managed to calm myself after the storm of thermal detenators, my heart still bumped with adrenaline. The fuel for movement was once again used.

Before I took a step, I saw the studious Sprocket on his dash ahead. The furball midget was a secure, smart fellow and knew better than to stick around in the muzzled sense of doom. Grabbing at the sassy acquaintance, once more by the wrist, I jetted through the streets with the sounds of pounding footsteps behind me.

Feruaj was on the run aswell, albeit a lot slower.

[Artisn]

"Emperor's Black Bones!"

Feruaj exclaimed as he watched the rocket dribble toward him. The disasterious device was a certain display of the Imperial's pull, but the Besalisk did not grasp such things at the moment. His hearts fueled his escape once more, and he dashed with certain confidence.

Bang after bang, the concrete called back as the squad departed the debris riddled scene onto the next avenue. Their hopes resided in evading the formidable foe.

[Sen Oisel]

Terror gave my eyes a tremble, and the reek of the following Basilisk's breathe gave my nose a flare. Every sense had been keenly sharpened in moments time, as my movements took reliance in instinct. An eruption howled through the streets and left the earth at a jumble. Tremors gave my feet a jitter, the alarm breaking my consciousness for a slight.

Decisions were made with haste, and although I could barley focus my hands were in a stir. Juggling the grip of the woman's wrist and hold of the Ewok, my motions were at a lull. Laggard spurts pressed me forward, still managing to lift beyond the progress of the brute behind me.

Besalisk weren't exactly speed-machines, but a bit of extra weight pressed more gravity on the husky ex-Bounty Hunter. Every hurried step could only be conceived as a dawdle, and it left me irate. Despite it all, I despised the possibility of someone falling behind.

An abrupt skid left my rush obstruct. Dust flared about my toes as I dropped my company beside the steady gallop of Besalisk. Cadence conquered assembly as Feruaj swiftly took the baggage and fleed without a stutter in his step. Beside the explosion, another sound crept in the street we took refuge from.

"Head on, I'll be on my way." At the time I did not realize it, but my voice dripped of a zealous pitch, and purposeful timbre. The steps could be heard in a thud behind me, as the route dwellers responded to the Besalisk haste with yelps of confusion and disdain.

The sounds soon were drowned in a flush of concentration. My blaster had found it's way into my hand, and without time to waste I prepared myself for the engagement.

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

Services were never at an end. The clamor of civilians in watch echoed throughout the pathway, as the debris dispersed from the nearby buildings.

Rockets weren't exactly the most precise missiles, but they did hold a worthy extreme. Khaowan danced through the changed tundra, wiggling his way through the jumble he dropped.

An eased muse wrinkled his ears within the armored shell. Fire dwindled about as he stepped through the broad stature's fallen remains. A frown carved its way into the Zabrak's face, but the watching men and women did not see it. Instead they simply stared on with fear as the presence of the Empire took a step through the shambles.

Night carried it's tide over the world, and the moon glistened off his polished armor. Filth in the air had not managed to clasp itself around the IntCon husk. Not a utensil could pierce through the expertise of the Empire's specialist. Fragments gathered at his booted toes, his appendages wiggling about as he prepared himself for the onward spiral into battle once more. Stiffness had gathered in his joints as he had observed the destruction at the pull of his finger. Triggers excited him so, and the beloved abolition of life was a rather lovely contrast to his daily affairs. Life as an Internal Affair agent did not provide the lively persona of carnage.

From the barrage of his hand skills he had produced havoc and he loved it. Throughout life he bagged a calmness, spoke steady and remained well in the standards of his department. Every move was calculated, even when it came to deadly labor. All of it was a necessary facade to his demented views. His objective delved in the demise of all things against the Empire.

Sen was just another face to be scraped off the list.

A leap on the BARC speeder. History lessons had left the man infatuated with the Clone Wars, especially since the Intelligence specialized in such classified info. Status gave him all the necessary hobbies he needed to maintain sanity. Khaowan saw nothing insane in supporting the Empire, even in assault. The Zabrak pushed with effortlessness, igniting the engines as he blasted across the pathway toward the fleeing regiment.

Blaster in hand, he drove onward toward the motionless victim-to-be. Sen was soon to die, and a jolt of his finger on the blaster trigger made that certain. His own rigor made that certain for him.

[Artisn]

Feruaj gather himself as he carried the two toward the ship. Many blocks seperated them, but his feet pressed on. Every step gave him a better chance to survive.

[Sen Oisel]

The speeder bike whoosh toward me, sailing through the crowds that had run in the outburst of explosions. Beside a few straggling obese characters, the avenue before me sat barren with the darting foe on his way. Even as my mind focused on at the situation at hand, it was hard to take a complete clutch on possible reactions. There wasn't a move that I could conceive that would work. Battle wasn't an expertise of mine, but agility was. Dexterity had allowed me to meddle my way out numerous situations before.

It was definite, I would have to rely on body alone. The blaster still well in my grasp, I watched as a bolt spew from his cannon. The fury of the red dart thwarted my eyes, and sent a required pulse through my spine. Refined skills sent me into a projectile, flinging off to the side away from the oncoming blast. A blur distorted my vision as my movements went on.

A little lesson here and there, and my acrobatic ability became distinct talent. In the twirl of my maneuver, I pasted my hand to the floor and instilled gravity on my two palms for only a second. The buzz of the engine lured me into a jump as my eyes captured the speed. Quickness was that only word that could describe the exotic bike's engine. The Imperial utilized it with effortless swiftness and keen senses. There was only one room for completed attack, and it was placed on display with comparable velocity.

Thrust of my hands and I was in the air, swung about in a spiral. Time and space were forgotten in the milliseconds, but soon returned as I came to an abrupt landing. My feet pressed against the speeder bike's control panel. The engine cut off with quickness. It wasn't the aim, but it could work.

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

The engine stopped, but Khaowan didn't. As the speeding vehicle came to a sudden hover, the Zabrak lifted his boot to the standing bounty's back.

He watched as the figure toppled from the plateu of the control panel onto the hard surface below. Leaping off, he grabbed at the baggage dangling from the speederbike. A few more blasters wouldn't harm...Atleast not harm himself.

Silence emit from his helm's ventilation as he moved quickly. Normally a man would heave, but he seemed mechanical. Tutelage of the Empire had set his stamina to a length to beat a gundark. He was prepped for anything and everything.

[Sen Oisel]

I felt my body crinkle across the canvas, but it was subtle in comparison to the pain. Shock have overwhelmed me from the unexpected boot, but the encounter with the concrete coated the shock with sudden anguish and agony.

Grabbing at my injured side, I grimaced in defeat. There was no more room to volley myself to safety, and I simply stared at the ground. There was no blood, but it certainly felt like something would eventually come out.

Crimson to not leak, but my pride had been channeled down a shattered pipe. A frown tattered my features as I tried desperately to regain composure. The injury was far from fatal, but it still hurt. Standing to my feet with the assistance of a nearby wall, I sneer in pain.

Fighting just wasn't for me. Especially against some invincible Imperial.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Up until the point when Sen stumbed out after a shout and the shop erupted in a large explosion, Sprocket thought he had gotten away. But now, he was sure that he hadn't. And what made matters worse, this crazed Imperial was using excessive force. Of course, that was probably the result of the martial law directive. So now things had escalated, spiraling out of control.

But he was one being. And he still breathed. Which meant he had a weakness. But maybe it wasn't one that Sprocket could use. And then a cartrige hit his knee. And he got it. Reaching down, he slips an ammo cell from the Besalisk's belongings, drawing it and his slingshot. He loaded it up, and took aim. Years of practicing with both the slingshot and sling would definetly help him make this shot. He was used to hitting butterflies with pebbles from fifty feet. An intake port on the front of a speeder was at least three times the size. And they were approximately seventy-five feet away. A good chance. Drawing the slingshot cords back, Sprocket let the ammo cell fly. It soared through the air, arcing like Sprocket had anticipated. And it went fifty feet. Fortunately, like Sprocket had compensated for, the speeder made up for the other twenty-five feet. And the suction from the intake port drew the ammo cell right in. On the way through, it hit the fan that drew the air to the engine, and exploded. The explosion was no detonator, but it was enough to put out the intake, mess with the propulsion, and shut down, if not fry, the engine. The speeder, being hit in Sprocket's right, pulled that way, throwing the driver from his perch as it erupted.

Unfortunately, it also threw Sen forward ten feet, to the ground. Both were on the ground, approximately twenty-five, maybe thirty, feet apart. Sprocket let out an amplified yell.

"RUN!!!!!!!"

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

Khaowan had just escaped fatality as he leaped off the bike for baggage. The unexpected rebuttal of the bounty's companion sent peril through his armor body. Beside the absorption of the steady blow, his body was thrown into a twist about the wind.

Explosions held trickery and debris. Flying fragments banged against his shelled frame, nearly tearing through the husk. Fried BARC speeder biker shelling danced about in the wind that carried the young agent off into the distance.

Alike a pebble to the water, he found himself at a eloquently disastrous bounce across the floor. Sea of rubbish followed him, banging against his frail frame splatted across the floor. The distance between him and the decimated bike was short, especially in comparison to his target. This was a pitfall in his plan, but soon he would find the composure to stand. Soon...

[Artisn]

The once mercenary had always kept his beady eyes open, wide and ready. However the tide of time had given the elderly Bounty Hunter to grow weary of such studious behavior. His demeanor slacked, and so did his back. Hunched over, he nearly forgot the Ewok as he slipped from his grasp.

Exploiting the baggage of goods, Sprocket had shown a display of adept shooting. The explosion rippled through, sending a bellow of material flaring over the crowded response. Instincts left the man's head at a sudden duck, but his grasp still maintained on the threatening acquaintance. The woman was definately in dire need to be led out to safety. She did save Sen Oisel...for all it was worth.

Plus, a damsel in distress could pitch in a few credits. And Feruaj loved credits.

[Sen Oisel]

Coruscant had turned it's band about. Favoritism to the cadence of percussion dribbled over it's canvas, and all those who stood upon it. Explosion was the living planet's hobby. Since the arrival booms elapsed all my thoughts, leaving moments in a drown of profusion. Absurdity was all I could see in it all. One wrong move in a basic shop left the whole grouping in abuse.

The blast sent me off, splashing against the world. Walls I didn't remember being that punched at me as I spew across the terrain. Albeit a surprise, my body was not ready for the impact. Nothing seemed fitting today, not even my body.

Frell, I hated fighting.

Before I could attune my senses as my crumpled frame culminated on the floor, I heard the decree of a distinct tone and voice. Sprocket the Kit-Master had blown the speeder to bits with a divine plan. He wanted me to run...

I tried, I did. My legs pester me to a stand, and limped in an accelerated linger toward the grouping. We would get out of this alive, in one piece.

Hopefully

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

Twitch there, flinch here.

It was the only sign of activity across the Zabrak's body. His frame was for the most part motionless. Only the coating of debris gave him a distinction from the numerous other corpses around The Works that seasoned the gutter with their stench.

The IntCon agent's mind was flung into a substance. A realm unknown, renown to him. Meditation was in need to proceed, and concentration to recalculate his movements had become a requirement. Every flinch and twitch of his hand carried through. The pulses gave him an urge, and steadily he returned to consciousness refueled.

He wasn't going to stand yet, but he would be returning with a ferocity unrivaled soon enough. A swallow of spit slither down his throat before another thought could come. Blood from his bitten tongue danced about his mouth.

Behind his dirty mask sat a snarl on his face, and he soon would put it to use. The motivation from the onslaught gave his legs a push and pull. Jolts began to work, and his body was ready to become upright.

He stood, face of vigor and, mind of steel. A gundark wouldn't dare wrestle him. Injuries rampaged his frame, shatters revealing segments of his body as debris had done it's work on the protective facade. A lull still resonated in his aura. He was content with his state, despite the setback.

[Artisn]

"Ya owe me, bud!"

The Besalisk spun about, allow his back to to be held on by the limping companion. This would definately deal with the dilemma between the two. Shot to the butt, punch to the nose, and then Saviour.

It seemed fitting to him.

"Now lets haul jets!" Feruaj spat with vigor as he grabbed tighter to the woman's wrist and lifted the Ewok up. Three bodies and one Besalisk, it wasn't nothing to him.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Sprocket, despite the amazing shot, did not cheer or smile yet. The mood was still dire to him. As he looked over the shoulder of the Besalisk at the target, the armored humanoid stood up. Not good. Not good at all. Sprocket readied the slingshot and the scrap nuts and bolts in the small sack next to his hip. He kept his pace, ever looking back. He spoke in calm and even tones, which belied his uneasieness. The evenness resounded from the mask.

"Um, guys, he's getting back up. We might have problems..."

[Selinica Miriya]

A mild growl escaped the blonde, hearing what the little fuzzball had to say.

"Frelling hunters. They sure in all hells don'know howta stop. I reckon I should know, firsthand."

Things had a habit of rearing their ugly heads on a consistent basis hereabouts, whether they lived here or not. And apparently, this thing that was causing all the ruckus was comin' up again. And she too kept her blaster ready. A shot that didn't land was a wasted one, and she wasn't one to make wasted shots on a regular basis.

"I find these problems distasteful, furface. I'd have it in mind to peg 'em myself if t'were my problem. I'd have it in mind, anyhow. This all's got me in a mood to act very uncivilized."

A entertained grin showed on her.

"I bet his blood smells mighty nice, anyhow."

And she licked her lips.

[Sen Oisel]

The last segment of the new comer left my eyebrow at an arch. She was pecuilar one. Blood was the last thing on my mind as I ached on the Besalisk's back. Bumps and jumps left me bouncing about like I was aon a rollercoaster. Eventually we would stop, and soon.

"Pick up da pace, frag!"

[Artisn]

A murmur wheezed from the heaving Besalisk's mouth. The mighty stench of his breathe was taken in by a quick snortle. Husky bounces pulled him along with the company about.

The Ewok's little legs sped beside him while he dragged desperately at the damsal's arm, pulling her along. Like a freight ship he carried the load with much ease, and turning up the engines a bit wasn't too much to ask. Just the way that the Captain choosed to say it irked him.

Fastening his imaginitive seat belt in, the Besalisk dashed at his top speed. A sense of grace carried him along as he danced off into the next block, and the next. Still the menacing, but unseen gaze of the hunter rested on his back.

At any moment they could feel the wraith of a horrific explosion once more. The thought itself gave him the motivation to pick up his step. Acceleration propelled him forth, cutting the distance between the ship in only a few spare moments.

[Sen Oisel]

The brown husk along Feruaj's back provided a decent foundation for grapple on the bumpy ride. From the gaze of my laze eyes, overcome with exhaustion, I saw the ship. We were getting near.

"Finally," I mused. The time had come, and with a flick of the comm. unit at my wrist it was at my lips.

"Litika, we are on our way." And as soon as it had been turned on, it was off. The time for conversations had long passed since the arrival of the demented hunter.

[Artisn]

Ewok's were fast little things, and Feruaj could do nothing but notice it. Sprocket had flee to the building, dashing to the lift and readily headed up. Feruaj was only a few steps behind, but his stride had been increased. Despite it all, the little mechanic had all the energy to push on.

"Furballs..."

In moments time, the crew was up roof. They had made it finally. A few scratches here and there, but they were alright for the most part.

[Sen Oisel]

A huff drizzled over as I melted off the Besalisk back onto my own toe. The ride had given me the chance to rest, but also the time to forget the pain that twisted my legs into shamble. Nothing was broken, but I felt an uneasiness in my ankle.

The droids had already come and gone, the crates patterned nearby the ship.

"Frell, she could have atleast somethin' about those things."

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Sprocket ran to the lift of the ship. Apparently, for being the smallest of the group, he was the fastest. A shame really. The Besalisk had several strides on the small Ewok, and that was in one step. The lift hissed to life, opening up and exposing the inside of the ship. His little legs pumping crazily, he dashed into the ship, looking for some way to get these crates in. He ran past another workspace he hadn't noted, just off to the side of the cargo hold.

And he came to a skittering stop. There it was. Maybe not as great as it should've been, but it was still there. A small, forked speeder. It seemed designed for smaller passengers. Sprocket ran to it. Gazing precursorly into the small speeder, Sprocket noted the ports. No hands-on controls. This was to be operated by a droid. But time to reactivate the droid was what they didn't have. So it was time for another plan.

Leaping into the small speeder, Sprocket began to rummage though the small ship. And sitting unceremoniously in the floorboard, was the interface control panel for non-droid pilots. Perfect. Sprocket worked his magic, working the interface into the ports. With a resounding click, the panel snapped into place. Sprocket powered the engines. They sputtered to life. This thing was old. It needed some work. But for right now, the power levels were optimum enough to get the job done. Flooring the speeder, it zoomed outward, and out of the cargo pit.

The speeder leapt as it skittered crazily down the ramp, narrowly missing the Besalisk and his two passengers. Sprocket throttled the small speeder, skidding it into a box. The clawlike forks engaged easily, and Sprocket's mask barked to life, loud and frantic.

"Get in there! I'll load the cargo! Sen, you fasten them down! And comm Litika to start the ship now, we're coming in hot! Besalisk, give us covering fire! Either from your rifles, or from the ship's weapon station! Dual cannons! And lady, do whatever it is that you do best!"

Sprocket never, in his entire life, thought that he would be the one to take temporary control, barking out orders like a captain. But now wasn't the time to muse. Lifting the first crate, Sprocket boarded the ship with it, dropping it into place, to conserve as much space in the cargo holds as possible.

[Litika Dor]

Litika heard the ship's hatchway depressurizing from the cockpit, where she was already warming up the engines.

"I see you boys managed to get yourselves into trouble anyway. I don't think I want to know. We're leaving in four minutes."

[Selinica Miriya]

"I see you boys managed to get yourselves into trouble anyway. I don't think I want to know. We're leaving in four minutes."

It didn't seem that this crew was one to look for trouble, but trouble seemed to find them, anyhow. It was her first observation, and it was likely not far off the mark. Miriya ditched her blaster pistol in its place on her belt, and withdrew the black blade from the sheath strapped to her back [which she had not had the time to clean after her earlier ventures], and a moist cloth from a small pouch to clean it whilst keeping an 'ear' out for mischief. The crew, meanwhile, was prepping to jump planet.

"Lil' lady don'wanna know the details. Figures sometimes that's the best plan." She mused to herself. "I reckon she don't meddle in the heavier affairs. Could be wrong, though, seein' as I don'know her. Ahh, that's comin' off quite nicely."

She finished with that, returned all to its rightful place, and kept an eye to the ewok. Industrious little guy.

[Sen Oisel]

Okay.

Just one step at a time.


For the most part, my body had rejuvinated enough energy to keep moving. However, moving wasn't enough. I lingered between a cramped walk, skip and limp up the gangplank as the Ewok barked out orders. Already Litika had reassured the squad that we would be off planet soon enough, but my mind strayed elsewhere.

Why had an Imperial delved into our business so readily in The Works of all places? It was a mysterious conflict that only time would reveal...hopefully.

However, the situation did not claim much time to waste. So musing and idle thinking were placed at the back of my mind. Stumbling up the steps, I watched as the Besalisk pushed along side me in wait for my inevitable fault in step. It didn't come, and through my limps I managed to wiggle my way into the cockpit.

"Everything's prep, eh Litika? So, just turn on the shields, pull up the ganglplank and we should be gone."

[Artisn]

Feruaj walked along with Sen up the plank into the ship. After the entrance, the Besalisk gave him an assured nod and dashed through the freight ship. A few bounce steps here and there, and he sat in a comforting seat near the side of the ship. Modifications and recaliburations had rearranged certain sectors of the YT-2000's hull, allowing cannons to be placed atop.

It would be easy access for the Besalisk to keep firing at any possible interference. With the Empire gaining knowledge of their placement on Coruscant, there was a strong possibility they could be caught in a tirade even after take-off.

Focus sent his trained eye across the grounds below the hull. The Ewok had just recently carried in all the crates, with no more room for time to pause.

[Sen Oisel]

Time went faster when relaxed. I was at a worthwhile ease as I pressed into the comfortable pilot chair. Much of the ship had been prepared for the jump, but it didn't matter. There were certain things necessary to get off the ground. After a few twitch of my hand, I felt the familiar shiver of the hull as the freight defied gravity.

Push of the engines propelled the ship off the floor of the roof, sending a gust of wind through. Recently the acquaintance had taken to the ship, so there was no worry about the blowing dust underneath the ship's belly. However, the blow sent the venomous gas of The Works about the windows, leaving my eyes behind the fog's thick.

A snarl burrowed in my parted lips, carving a disgust. Soon the thick faded and the clear showed in the sky as the ship lifted higher into the sky. Above the dastardly atmosphere, the ship sat motionless in the air for a moment before the engines were pumped with a second tier to burst. It only took a moment, but before I could end a shake rattled the ship into a quake.

There was a problem...as usual.

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

Crilknkszz

The roof was riddle with many particles. Swept over by wind's blow, papers and rubble hung a top the abandoned building's head. Underneath the crunch of a soft foot lay a single pebble. The strength pressured the dirt ball into a murk of dust. Gleam of moonshine took a shade over the man who stepped forth.

Khaowan had escaped the blast, taken a stand and casually drifted behind the squad as they took refuge to the ship. There was nothing in his haste, and it now displayed it's purpose. Unnecessary usage of energy was absolutely foolish, and a languid walk could do better in the end.

A bag dangled over in a strap, banging against his back as his hand were overwhelmed with the weight of a sniper rifle. Much of the Academy and Agent training had detailed such endeavors as a specialty. Agents commonly held the company of rifles, whether for battalion or assassination purposes. Far range shots were an adept showcase of precision, and Khaowan was an ace.

During his time under tutelage he displayed potential, and growing abilities. Time on the field as an IntCon was rarely involved in battle, but every combat gave him the necessary crave and chance to improve. He graduated into a level of skill that was rivaled by very few amidst the Galactic Empire, beside most of his superiors. The fact gave Khaowan a smirk as he stared ahead without the use of one eye. Only one was required, while the other pinched to minimize his vision.

Then, in a sudden pull of the trigger the blast tore through a whole in the modified generator, hitting the hull's outer shell. However, the aim was not at the hull itself. If that was the objective, there would be no reaction. Instead, Khaowan gained an advantage as the ship took a shake as he hit the generator.

Two shots were delivered, and with the generator deactivate with the first, the latter gave a rattle. All the missiles left in his baggage with useless. That was all he could deliver. He had failed, but the damage had been done.

Now all there was left to be done was leave the inevitable response.

[Artisn]

"What the frack!"

[Sprocket Gearhead]

As the ship powered up and took off, Sprocket was parking the speeder. Jumping out, seeing that the last of the freight was secured, he went to see if everyone was okay, and then the shake. It took him off of his feet, and to the deck. A fall never killed anyone, at least, not that short of a fall. But, he had heard the familiar rattle. The shield generators were shot. That much he knew. He sighed before picking himself up and walking through the ship and into the cockpit. As he entered, the black- and gray-furred Ewok made an announcement. It was filtered through and simultaneously delivered in his mask's voice.

"I'm pretty sure that was the shield generator. Give me a diagnostic, Sen. I want to be sure."

[Sen Oisel]

"It was..."

A frown pestered my face. The shield generators were heavily modified at purchase, but still held a vice. One precise click, which was astronomically impossible had managed to happened. It was a bit too much to swallow. Beyond the shot, it only surged a flicker for the hull to be bombarded with another blast.

However, there was still chance that he could attack again. One decent combination of one of those rockets and a generator flicker would leave the ship at odds end.

It was a dilemma, a problem..

"No troubles."

[Artisn]

"Blasted!"

The turrents were ready after a few clicks, and the Besalisk could only grit his teeth to restrain his grumble from turning into a formidable growl. It wasn't the rattle, but the subtle defeat. Feruaj was a proud man, and even the slightest trouble had gave him a default anger. Before the woman had foiled his plans, and even earlier he was shot in the tail.

The days were becoming a little too much to bare.

Unloading a barrage of blaster bolts from the cannon, the roof was overwhelmed with numerous shots. Blast after blast riddled the grounds, and turmoil coil the surface into crumbles pieces as his aim was for absolute onslaught and overkill of the Imperial enemy.

They would not be taken down. Not this early into the game.

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

Agent Tarbrea did not exactly expect such reaction, but he was not taken off guard. A word was not whisper in repulse as his impulses casted over his intense frame. Soon as the blast began jammed across the roof, his body went into a fling. Swings dangled him about in a ricochet away from the oncoming blast, his body being completely controlled by the intense training of the past.

Such insane actions in combat weren't hard to predict. The Academy had perfected him through numerous practice drills against stun blast, and though he no longer held the scars he herald them for the teachings. It showed as he propelled himself over a fatal blast to the surface that quickly crumble underneath him.

He was gone from the dribbling grounds, landing away near the lift.

Escaping into the surpsingly still standing lift, he activated it with a click of his hand and prepared himself for the certain assault that would continue until the ship was gone into space. Khaowan would flee, but the Empire would not lose this bout. Not by a long shot.

[Sen Oisel]

The blare of green skews sprayed across the screen of the cockpit. Before me a window of blast and chaos ignited, and the fury of a rebuttal was placed on portrait display. Illustration of anger came over, blasting harder than the shots themselves into my eyes. The world below me lit with flames of carnage and bustle. Afar the sounds of children could be heard in calls of utter distress as feet stir about in flee.

Someone needed to stop this. And soon.

Quickly I grabbed at the intercom, activating the linkage to the torrents. There the Besalisk sat, his eyes opened to the words that I spat over the comm.

"Stop! Now!" I felt my voice crack at the anguish of my body, and brunt of my heart. People could easily die from this act of foolishness. I'm no hero, but a conscious would not leave with a pill or two if someone fell on stupidity on my ship. No...not my ship, frell!

"Your gunna kill someone. Stop! We're blastin' off!"

And so we were. My hands went to work, hoping to divert the ship from the explosive display from the cannons and dart to the heaven's haven. We would not be killing the few innocent bystanders on Coruscant today.

[Artisn]

The fire ceased, and Feruaj was pressed at ease in the seat. When the Captain sent orders, he would follow. All the times he had taken up missions underneath organizations, he had come under orders. Many felt he would be a worthy soldier, but he thought otherwise. He was very wrong.

Pride was an issue that only occurred during direct embarrassment. Beside the rather strong bark of the lead, he knew what was necessary and it aligned itself with Sen's ideals. Blasting off was just a warning, or display of anger. Intelligence lead the husky fellow with an understanding that escape was the biggest priority.

After a push of the button, the lift underneath the torrent seat trickled down for his flee from the stained room. Spit flew from his mouth in his battle cry, and it st inked. He had to flee the embarrassment once more.

[Sen Oisel]

We had made it to outer space, but there was still something wrong. Under my tongue rested a response, a reply worthy of being said. Before Sprocket had asked with intrigue about the diagnostics of the ship. Of course, there shouldn't be anything wrong. There was only a nice two shots and my almighty hull was without angst.

However, I was. The shot had amazingly destroyed one of the modified shift shield. Without it there was no guarantee of getting through hyperspace safely. There was always wayward asteroid and meteor showers following through, and the possibility of death was at a rise.

All I could do was frown. My mind jumbled with ideas, and concepts. The shot had been too precise, too perfect. Previously the HBI had been tamper, and without anyway of catching outward messages as well, there was no certainty that during the hyperspace route we would be able to send anything for help.

We would just have to wing it. At least until we made an emergency landing.

"Okay, were jumpin' on da Perlemian Trade Route. Takin' a detour to Tanaab to get few things before we head from the Inner Rim to the Outer Rim.

It aint safe otherwise..."

And without much more than ten minutes to nimble on the biting idea, we were in hyperspace. I could only hope that we would make it out alive.

"Now, can somebody ask that lady back dere who the frell she is?"

[Artisn]

In the jumbled mess of the main deck Feruaj found refuge. The day was a long one, and with the sudden jump to hyperspace it seemed like everything would be fine now. A frown couldn't solve anything, so he tried his best to smile as he salvaged a few goods here and there from the fridge.

Throwing it across the dejarik table set up near the entrance, he began to grub. He deserved it. All that running had definately worked up an appetite. Plus, he needed to get his mind off of all the troubles.

"Mmm," he hummed as his problems were swept away with a drool and dig in of his hand. Food was a good friend.

[Selinica Miriya]

Miriya had worked her way through the cleaning of most of her equipment, all the while amidst everything else going on. When a demand was made for her name, who she was, she didn't even look up. It wouldn't do to have a dirty weapon mess up a clean kill.

"Y'all wanna know who I am, I gotta be knowin' who ya are yerself, boy."

[Sen Oisel]

"Oops," I mused.

The woman's voice echoed through the rather barren halls, but it was only in regards to my rather loud voice. It carried from the cockpit, but it was no one's fault but mine. The thought of the utter shame was almost laughable. However, I shrugged it off and lifted out of my seat.

With a quick regard to Litika, I gave her a nod of confirmation. As before, she could handle the ship. That was what she was put on the job for anyways.

Heading out of the cockpit, I made a rendezvous with the newly placed crewmate...atleast temporarily. She could be considered a stowaway at best in my eyes, but that was me. Hopefully no one else would become kin with her. From what I saw at her arrival, Feruaj definately wouldn't be cool with her. That was good...he wasn't too nice to anyone anyways, though.

"Aye! I'm Sen, my fault...," my words drowned in a sea of silence, coated with my troubled thoughts. Before I could confirm a halt in conversation, I continued. A lull could destroy a relationship before it even began.

"And your name is...?"

[Selinica Miriya]

Miriya stopped cleaning her blaster pistol and actually looked up from her work, for once. Introductions, she had been taught, did require at least a good part undivided attention.

"Selinica Miriya D'aen Cailis. Ya can call me Miriya."

One more quick wipe, and the blaster was done with. Away it went, and that was all of them. Her extensive collection [who really knows how she kept it all hidden away on her person, and that wasn't even all of what she owned for armaments...] was on display around her. All shiny, all clean.

"I'm a hunter, not bounty, can run with the best of 'em. I can have a mighty mean temper, boy, so don't you cross me and we'll get on just fine. Cross me, and well, if that time comes, you'll not be wanting to know what I'd do to ya."

She kept both eyes on him. Yep, it was definetly there. And it seems he wanted to keep that hidden. Fair enough. She wasn't wanting to flount her deeper abilities either.

[Sen Oisel]

She was weird. Looking in my eyes and stuff. Crazy lady, but I'd take her. I mean...not take her, take her...but blah!

Before I could jumble with the ideas any further, I simply took to another focus. The main deck had been riddled with aroma and spectacles. The Besalisk to the side went into a grub, mouth overwhelmed with a stuffing of food, while the table before me was weighed down by the array of blasters.

The woman carried a large artilery. Nothing to play with. I'd have to remember that for future affairs. However, the future affairs were exactly what nagged me. What was this woman doing here of all places?

"So, what gotcha 'ere?" I asked, putting on a fine smile spreading my lips.

[Selinica Miriya]

"Tools."

She put away her cleaning materials, and started placing everything back on her person, piece by piece, making sure it was secured well enough that it would only come out if she took it out.

"I reckon you were wondering how I carry it all, and where I put it all. Alls I can say is it takes some getting used to, and to normal folk, it would seem to be a weight too heavy to carry. This is just a small portion of what I own. Been doing this for a length of years longer than both your arms and then some."

There was a time when she'd likely have killed him for even looking at her, or asking her name. There was no room for such recklessness these days, especially with councils of the conglomerate of star systems she hailed from posting warrants for the likes of her and others that were or once were her kin. One had to keep somewhat on the quiet side.

"Don' mind the hokey speech. I have a habit of picking up the speech tendancies and accents of others I...associate with. It'll wear off in its own time."

[Sen Oisel]

A smirk lifted my lips now as I let her talk.

"I didn't mean the tools.

I meant you."

The smirk grew as my mind rumbled with more. I had to let it go.

"Only if you think your a tool o' somethin like dat..."

[Selinica Miriya]

She went blank.

"Oh...ah, me?" Blink. She'd blush being asked such things, but right now she was more surprised than anything. "Well, ah...Oh, goodness, I ain't talked much about myself before. The most anyone used to hear was their own last words before meeting their maker."

There was a time such and admission was something of pride, but nowadays...Well, there was considerable doubt in what she'd been up to all these years. What was the point?

"Tool? Hells, no. I ain't a tool ta nobody, belongin' ta nobody. I don't reckon you'd really want to know." She murmured, fumbling a dagger into place. "I mean...Well..."

[Sen Oisel]

For the most part, my instincts told me to do something. To touch, move in closer. It was what I saw my brother do when such moments occurred back on Sluis Van between him and girls. However, I knew better.

She had already put out a vibe, and I felt it. There was no point in intruding like some idiot. From what I saw, and what I had done, idiots only got into trouble.

But I'm an idiot...

There was no heed to my step, despite my rather conflicted mind. A hand grabbed at her own, soft and light. No need to add pressure, the moment was already uncomfortable. I slowly rolled the dagger from her hand, in hopes of returning her focus back to me. The touch was the problem that I fumbled with in my mind.

She was a secretive woman, and much more important she seemed mean. Even the slightest non-asked brush could lead me far off in the distance. Plus, she already implied she had killed people. However, she didn't seem too mad...as of yet. So I continued.

"I wouldn't mind. I want to know." Smoothly I turned about, and sat beside her a top the table. Placing the dagger down to the side, I offered her my eyes. Beside the unwarranted touch, my brother had taught me to be a respectable person.

[Artisn]

Feruaj didn't watch. He was too preoccupied. The food was just that good. It didn't look exactly great.

Most of the meal was jumbled together in a disorganized bundle, but it still trickled down his throat in all it's yummies eloquence. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

[Selinica Miriya]

Miriya watched her dagger be removed from her hands, just blinking, staring quietly all the while. It was just one dagger, and not the most precious of them, either. Just another empty sheath amongst her armaments.

"I've seen you know what it's like to be chased, to be hunted. It gets boring after a while, I know. It's more of an annoyance to be the hunter that's hunted. It's ruthless. I don't rightly belong to nobody, no matter what they think. I admit I ain't been the best person, but they drove me to it. I've done what had to be done, although my reactions ain't been proper or best."

She heaved a heavy sigh.

"It gets to be so darn tirin'."

[Sen Oisel]

I watched as she walked around the subject. She wasn't specific, and it was okay. We had only met, and had only recently given me her name. Miriya it was, I liked it. A bit of extravagance to it.

"And now...what are you doing 'ere now? Gunna go flyin' with me around the galaxy too?"

[Selinica Miriya]

"Well, I reckon so."

She reached for her dagger, and saw that Sen was watching her carefully. She stopped.

"What? You wanna keep it? I got plenty more where that came from." Miriya managed a small smile. Probably the most honest smile anyone'd ever gotten out of her in over a decade. "I ain't gonna do nothin' to ya, honest. I ain't got cause to."

[Sen Oisel]

"Oooh,"

I had forgotten my target-bound eyes. They locked on enemy and friend alike without halt. Just a habit of mine.

"I'll take it..." I paused there, my eyes still on Miriya's across me.

"...If you want me too," adding a honest smirk in return to her smile.

[Selinica Miriya]

"Well, go ahead. I use them for throwin' and I got some pretty mean aim. I'd be careful, though...You'd be hard-pressed to find a sharper blade than the ones I keep."

She relaxed back into her previous position. "Just keep it clean and keep it sharp and it'll be good to you. Learn to throw it, and it'll be more useful than just for close, gritty combat, shavin' or whatever else a sharp might be good for."

[Sen Oisel]

Throwing...aiming, yeah those weren't my special points. My aim had already put a hole in a Basilisk's husk, and missteps had left a shoulder blade hit instead of a shin. There wasn't much about my aim to write home about, and it was worst with the build of ace growing about me.

I felt emasculated by it all. All I could to articulate it was provide a latent sadness to my face. Before I continue on with a pout, I thought up an idea. It only made sense.

"Can you teach me," I began shy. It was rare of me to ask anyone, much less be shy. I wasn't raised that way.

"You know, to throw the dagger and stuff."

[Selinica Miriya]

"That could be done."

She folded her arms and reclined, crossing her legs at the ankles. There was more than know-how and experience to her sharp aim, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"There's just some things a blade can do that a blaster bolt can't. It'd be useful to you, I'm sure."

[Sen Oisel]

"Yah."

I could feel an involuntary smile warm my face. The cheeks that were once uneven from a clever smirk carried heat as my eyes glistened with intensity. Finally, I was getting somewhere.

"When can you teach me?"

After barley a pause, I ran into another sentence. I was rushed, despite my words. "I mean, we do have time."

[Selinica Miriya]

Miriya yawned...and yawned...and yawned.

"Oh goodness." She looked at Sen, who looked pretty eager to pick up a new skill. "I'm probably more tired than I let on. I ain't slept in..." She started thinking about it, counting on her fingers, then shrugged. "Well, I ain't slept in long enough. A nap oughta do me, then I'll be in good form to do that..."

Miriya's head bobbed, then snapped back up again, accompanied by another yawn. She smiled tiredly, almost looking like she was doped. Yeh, that tired.

"Yeah, whenever's good for you. I have all the time in the 'verse."

[Sen Oisel]

"Okay, then. Head to that third chamber, on the right from the main corridor...and uh."

I paused there. The ship I knew like the back of my hand, but something caught my eye. This woman was frackin' se--

"Yeah! And head right. You should find a room there to sleep in."

[Artisn]

Feruaj had long left. The plate wasn't left before, nor were a few snacks to carry. Back in his room, he was in a void of food. There was no HoloNet with the HBI down, but he didn't crave for it.

All he needed was a good Mynock Coronet City to calm his nerves

[Selinica Miriya]

She smiled. At least the woman was remotely grateful he wasn't out to hunt her down and deliver her to those she most desired to avoid.

"Thanks."

She stood, and started to walk towards the room. And several paces in, she stopped, and looked back to Sen, then walked back over and grabbed her long coat.

"Ah...If I don't wake up if something comes up, like if we're being shot at or somethin', wake me, will ya? I don't care how little or how much I'd have slept if somethin' happens."

[Sen Oisel]

"Of course"

And she was gone out the door. My hands in my pockets, I skipped along to the hallway. I did it more for my own humor than anything else.

Now was the time to held reassemble that blasted droid, and we would need him. Didn't seem like there would be much in the refrigerator with Feruaj attacking it every few seconds. He thought he was slick sneaking in and out.

He wasn't.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Nodding, Sprocket turned on the cold deck and began walking to the housing for the shield generator. Using his tools, he easily got the housing panels off, revealing the smoked inside. Most of the components were carbon-scored. He first went to work on the carbon scoring, using a concoction the Ewok invented himself, and a wire brush, he cleaned it out. Within thirty minutes into it, the industrious Ewok had completely cleaned and preped the generator. Now for the fun stuff....

After assessing the damage, it was apparent that the direct hit was scored at the bottom of the generator itself. Fortunately, most of the hull had protected it, so it was only a few small components that needed replacing. The charge of the bolt had merely knocked the polarity of the machine outward, leading to malfuction and the carbon scoring. Reaching into his new toolkit, the one that, ironically enough, caused them to get shot at and have to make an exit real quick, he found his ion flux wrench. A simple matter of attaching the forks to the affected part, and a flip of a small switch and the polarities reversed. After a minute or two, Sprocket threw on the manual switch. The generator hummed to life. And reaching into the new toolkit, he found his diagnostic tool. After doing a quick readout, the Ewok saw that the shield generator was running at one-hundred percent. A good sign. Riveting back on the housing panels, Sprocket gathered up the remainder of his tools and went to find that deactivated droid.

There was still more work to be done.....

[Sen Oisel]

Before I knew it the shield generators were on full effect, but there was still a trouble with the HBI. Their was no channel, and it had been knocked off. A drift over to Onderon was still in need.

Troubling.

The droid, however, was another problem that I much rather leave to the Ewok. So, without a halt, I headed to the cockpit for rest. I needed it. Especially with the stench of the horrid ship.

I think Feruaj was farting up a storm.

"Blah," I muttered as I put my head down and waited for the alarm to awake me. Hopefully my nose would be passive during my sleep. How I hate the stench of Hutt Poodoo in the air.












Fin.