Shot for Shot (You'll Regret It Come Dawn)

[Cambrio Montegue]

Milkovich's was exactly the sort of place that Malastare's tourism board actively spent time warning visitors about. There had been a campaign a few years back to try and get it shut down on the grounds that it violated public decency laws. Of course, the entire attempt had been a waste of time and credits and everyone's attention. There were plenty of dives that housed the same sort of decadently serpentine clientele on the planet, and shutting Milkovich's down wasn't going to clean anything up; if anything, the constant railing and attention served only to increase business for the owners. By the time the white flag was raised, Milko's had a packed house every night and some kitschy posters to hang in the 'freshers, condemning it's licentious and debauched atmosphere.

So it was no surprise when Cambrio turned up at the address his brother had given him and found himself outside the sagging building.

His back was still aching from being tossed around like a chew toy only hours before; the ride back to the city had been an unpleasant experience, what with being coated with a slick layer of worm intestinal fluid. Admittedly the alternative - death - was a lot more unappealing but it was hard to look on the bright side when your hair was so stiff with dried...gunk that it was staging a civil war with your scalp. Even after a scalding shower back at his motel, he still felt dirty. And, Cambrio deduced with a sniff as he pushed in through the door of the bar, still stank. Thank goodness the expectations for this place were low. Even reeking of guts he was probably one of the more high-class customers.

It didn't take him long to spot his brother--his brother, Kenobi on a cracker, his brother--at the bar, waving him over. Vitt greeted him with a grin and a shot of something muddy. Cam frowned.

"Dude." He peered at the drink suspiciously before knocking it back with a grimace. "Could you have picked a more depressing place?"

[Vittore Montegue]

"Depressing is a few things that this place is, and a few things it isn't." He grinned, watching Cam choke back the suspicious looking liquid. "Sit your skinny ass down and take a load off."

He'd managed what he could with the cleaning up of himself after the 'don't eat me' dance with Mister Big-Ass Worm, but being this was Malastare, there was a distinct shortage of the type of clientele he might possibly think to put a move on, so it wasn't worth much of an effort beyond the fact that he'd rather not look too much like he got involved in something too untoward. Vitt was, at times, a wee bit narcissistic. As he would say 'It pays to look good.'.

"If I was really going for depressing, I'd have dragged your ass all the way back to home sweet home. So I don't wanna hear you bitch like... a little bitch."

What passed for bar staff in Milko's came by with something a little more passable, a pint of non-local ale for each of them. Vittore muttered a thanks and tucked into it with a hearty gulp before addressing Cambrio again. "Good to have you back, bro. I missed your pretty face, you know."

[Cambrio Montegue]

The brew was light and had a clean, easy finish - qualities that, last he'd known, his brother only valued in his women, not his alcohol. This was more suited to the younger man's palette. He accepted the drink--and subsequent jibes--for what they were; guarded peace offerings. Milko's was as good a place as any to declare neutral territory.

Cam ordered another round of shots for the both of them and shed his jacket. The place was packed tonight and the temperature in the close room was hovering steadily around 'stifling'. The brothers drank in what could pass for companionable silence, Cam staring steadily ahead at the grime-coated liquor shelf. He could feel Vitt staring at him.

"Stop checkin' me out, man. I don't care how pretty you think I am, I'm way out of your league." Cambrio, hunched over, tossed a tentative smile his sibling's way. "So. It's... been a while. What, uh. What's new?"

[Vittore Montegue]

"Yeah. Uh..." Vitt scratched at the back of his neck, then dropped the hand back around the dwindling pint. "...same old, same old. Doin' the business, getting paid, shootin' the shit... shooting the shit out of things and sometimes people. You know how it goes."

He drew in air through the space created momentarily by his upper teeth and lower lip and flicked his eyes away, examining the crowd without examining the crowd, you know, too much - partly out of habit - then bringing his line of sight back around to Cam, who was (it was still throwing him for a bit of a loop) sitting across from him right now, at this very table.

"Cam..." He didn't know why it should make him feel guilty. Emotions were so incomprehensible and he knew dad was able to take care of himself. Still, it nagged at him every day, on every job.

[Cambrio Montegue]

There it was, that neat little bundle of awkward conversation-waiting-to-happen, all packed into a single hesitant syllable. It's appearance was no surprise, but he'd hoped they'd at least have been halfway drunk before they acknowleged the bantha in the room. Cam sighed and shook his head, raising a hand to stop his brother.

"Look, Vitt, I get it. We said a lot of things we didn't mean and did a lot of crap we shouldn't have. Let's just leave it at that, alright?" This was the kinder, if more cowardly, option. "C'mon, look, tonight's on me."

And yes, okay, maybe the stabbing guilt in his belly had a little to do with the cop out but the last thing he wanted to do was try and wade through a potentially virulent conversation with his older brother about who owed who an apology for what.

He owed a lot.

"It's the least I can do, right, seein' as how I didn't send you a birthday message this year."

[Vittore Montegue]

His mouth open like he'd been ready to say more, little brother cut him off. So he sat there mouth open, mouth close, mouth open, mouth close, looking for an opportunity to get in and set right his intentions with the awkwardness. The fact that Cam was pussying out around the mistaken notion kinda pissed him off, too. And the way he'd butted in (not that he paid much attention to these things a lot of the time) was a little rude. Vitt finished off his pint and started in on his brother.

"No, no. Look, you little sh--" He started, raising up out of his chair a little and then he dropped off and back into his seat, his one hand that was not around the now-empty pint glass coming to pinch down on his nose between the eyes and squeezing his eyes shut, he hissed out a frustrated breath. A moment later, after having breathed in, then out, Vittore lowered his hand and looked on his brother with worry, pity, pain and more besides furrowing his brow and figuring into other places on his face and posture.

He stared for a moment, then let the ball drop. "Dad's gone."

[Cambrio Montegue]

Cambrio felt the words before he understood them, like a punch to the gut that burned hard and fast but didn't bruise until later. The air in the bar suddenly went to work, became thick and cloying and desperate. He sat on the cheap stool that had seen better days years ago, eyeing his brother in slack-jawed shock, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he attempted to force auditory mutiny so that he wouldn't have to hear what Vittore had just said, not like this; in a cheap dive with a beer that was sweating against his palm as it warmed, the smell of citrus disinfectant rising heavily from the gnarled bartop and profanities crackling around them like electric bolts.

Someone had set an old Mars Ja'ar tune playing. He was popular among spacers, who had adopted his wild and uncensored songs--most praising the rough-and-tumble life of vagabonds--as their own personal credence. Cambrio knew this one, remembered being young, when the whole galaxy could be condensed to the simple all of his brother and father and the hunt. He clung to the lyrics, streamed them in his head while he tried to think of something to say.

Thinking of the faces in the window

Once, when he'd been seven and Vitt nine, Dad had gotten hurt on the job, clawed up badly by an acklay on Vendaxa. Slumped over the controls in the Headhunter's cockpit, bleeding from a hole in his side that was pumping out in time with his breath, he'd made them stand at attention while he rasped out a string of familiar commands. If you can't carry it, leave it. Get somewhere safe and do whatever you have to do to stay there. Don't trust anyone. Watch out for your brother.

That you passed along the way

Thankfully they'd made it to a settlement with a decent medical facility and hadn't had to follow the order. It stayed with them though. The directive changed, adapted and grew more specific as they got older, more capable. Make sure you don't use your real names. There's an account on Coruscant, passcode's my old unit designation, enough to get you by. Keep the business going. Look after your brother.

Or the last thing you believed in

"Dad's dead?" Somehow he managed to keep his voice steady, if incredulous. Dad couldn’t be dead. He had close calls and maybe got roughed up but he didn‘t die. He was too stubborn to waste time with dying. It had to be a trap. "For - how long?"

[Vittore Montegue]

Always the little brother. Always so concerned. It was harder for him to admit, being who he was, but Vitt was pretty concerned, too. He believed so much that dad was still alive, it was almost like a woman who carried a torch for some long-lost lover. Some part of him called it pathetic that he felt this way, felt so unsure, so hesitant, but it had to be done, had to be said. Still in spill-it mode, Vitt said the first thing that came to mind.

"A year." The words just tumbled out of his mouth, without any prior consideration.

Another moment, two, three or so passed before it clicked and Vittore Montegue recalled what an overassuming, emo little shit his brother was. Still, it was his brother. But still... damn. Couldn't he be a little more not a woman?

"No, dumbass. He's... I don't know. He just vanished about a year ago." Vitt sighed, wanting to just pummel... something to relieve the tension. "Haven't heard a thing since."

[Cambrio Montegue]

Wait. What?

"What do you mean, vanished?" Cam's voice bled relief even as it pressed at his brother with that certain air of incredulous disdain that seemed reserved for conversations with his family. It had been shelved for years, had matured and developed a sharp precision.

This didn't make sense. Dad was all about keeping things in the dark, sure, but he was also a controlling bastard and pulling a disappearing act didn't much fit his MO. Not for a year, not without giving Vittore orders and a contingency plan. Hugo Montegue was nothing if not thorough and he would have made sure all the bases were covered, twice-over.

Unless he'd vastly underestimated his father's capacity for being a complete douchebag.

A flash of protective anger threaded through Cambrio as he watched his brother, saw the way his eyes hedged contact; what kind of unmitigated ass left without so much as a word?

"Well. I guess it's not totally unexpected." This time there was no mistaking the hard accusation in his tone. Cambrio snorted. "I mean, if he's not dead, it's just one more stellar decision to add to his long list of parental achievements."

[Vittore Montegue]

Yeah, the assumptions were getting frustrating. Vittore sat there, listening to Cam utter his words in a large measure of distaste, the tone sparking something fuming and bubbling inside the elder brother. 'Insolent' would probably apply here. It really didn't take much for him to be off his seat and looming over his brother, mere seconds after the insult to daddy dearest's parenting skills. That want to pummel something had focused quite pointedly on Cam, like predator on prey.

"If it weren't for him..." Vitt rumbled and growled, teeth gritted, eyes alight with pissed off-ness. "...if it weren't for the way he raised us, we'd be dust and you..."

The elder of the two took a firm balling of the younger's shirt and pulled him real close, leaning only a little to be face to face.

"...you prance around like some high and mighty, 'oh, woe is me, I have been wronged' pussy little bitch, like you're better than him." Vitt let go, with a shove. "Lemme tell you something, asswipe..."

He wound up, readying one tight fist for Cam's face and snarled. "...you don't measure up."

Then he let fly.

[Cambrio Montegue]

Retirement had done a number on his reaction time; it was shit. Duck, barely entered his mind for consideration before Vittore's fist cracked against the line of his cheekbone. His head snapped violently to the side and Cambrio flew backwards off his stool, toppling into the patron next to him like a wroshyr tree. Maybe the guy would have objected any other time but one look at Vittore and he backed off, wisely choosing to let it remain between the brothers.

"Are you insane?! What the crap is wrong with you!?"Cambrio brought a hand up to clutch at his throbbing eye; it felt like it had exploded, multicoloured blobs winking in his vision. His head had bounced off the floor pretty hard, too, and the combined effect made standing up again a tricky process. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, Cambrio leaned atop his stool and gingerly rolled his neck from side-to-side.

"You want to talk about not measuring up?" Cam spat out finally, glancing up to shoot a hard line at his brother. "I'm not the one who got left behind, Vitt. Twice."

He regretted the words before they even left his mouth because they weren't true and more than that: he meant them. Maybe he couldn't land a punch like Vittore but Cambrio didn't have to; he knew how to cut fast and easy, without even lifting a finger, words so sharp that the sting didn't register until you started bleeding.

"Does it piss you off, brother, that even being the model soldier wasn't enough for him? Pisses me off." And then Cam vaulted himself at his brother, closing the space between them in milliseconds with a barrage of hits.

[Cambrio Montegue]

grr, delete again, please >_<

[Vittore Montegue]

"What pisses me off is how you..." He replied, ducking away from a hit. "...don't give a womprat's ass that dad is missing. I don't know... whether he's dead or not."

Shot for shot, each hit was blocked, if barely for some. Measure by measure, the favour was returned as Vittore - older, yet shorter- wailed back at his brother whom despite the current show, he couldn't stand to lose. It was just as destructive a thought, if not more so, than that of losing his father. A lot of hard feelings, a lot of pent up frustrations. Let fist after fist land their target or be denied, next thing knowing the elder Montegue brother had the advantage. He wrestled Cam to the ground in front of all the onlookers and took a kneeling seat on his brother's backside, wrenching the younger's right arm up behind his back and pinning it there.

"I don't give a shit about your little tirade with dad. That doesn't matter here. It's not important. What matters is now." Vitt grunted, tugging up Cam's arm a little more to fight the resistance the younger man was putting up. "Damn it, Cammy... I need your help."

Which ultimately was hard to admit, especially in a bar full of strangers.

[Cambrio Montegue]

"Geroff me you asshole!" Cambrio roared, face red as he struggled to break Vittore's hold. His arm was yanked up further between his shoulderblades, a little more pressure applied. The young man hissed and swore, back arching; it was hard to differentiate which was worse, the stab in his shoulder or the humilation of his position. Cam'd thought he'd been doing pretty good, considering his last serious altercation had been back when he was seventeen, all flint-and-tinder, just itching to throw down with someone, anyone. Yet here he was, knocked flat and held fast by his older brother, a victory for the elder that had taken all of five minutes. Vitt had barely broken a sweat.

But then, he knew all of Cam's moves. They were his, too.

When they were kids, Vittore'd had to kick his ass around the block a few times to teach him how to fight. It wasn't that he'd been bad at hand-to-hand – he was actually pretty fucking awesome, with a long reach to boot – but he had this weird idea of fairness. He'd probably been born with it because he sure as hell hadn't learned it from Dad or his brother.

No such thing as a fair fight, Cammy boy, no such thing as a monster that'll wait until the bell to throw a punch. And after getting beat into the ground a few times, he'd learned that lesson and never forgot it.

Damn it, Cammy... I need your help.

Only this? This was a move his brother had never used before. Cam stopped trying to jerk away, let his chest fall back down onto the filthy barroom floor. He waited for the other shoe to drop, or, more appropriate and probable, fist; it didn't come.

He didn't have to listen. Cam wasn't under obligation, he didn't owe anything more than an apology. What Vitt ought to do, if he was really so worried, was hire someone, some specialist, to trace Dad's path. Or else try and do it himself. His brother was resourceful, he'd manage. Go frell yourself, Cam wanted to say, but didn't because this was his brother, and that was enough.

"I can't." Grunted Cambrio, finally. He felt Vitt tense. "N-not because of why you think." Although that was probaby true in and of itself. "I... have another job. I'm leaving in the morning."

[Vittore Montegue]

"Job?" Vitt blinked, easing up on the pressure a moment then reapplying it, which solicited some protest from Cam. You could never be too careful. "We literally just finished getting slimed and you already have something lined up? I don't believe you."

He almost couldn't believe it. After leaving so abruptly like he did, after only having reconnected with his brother again this very day, after all his fighting against this life, he was diving in the deep end and swimming with the big kids? Vitt just didn't get his bro sometimes. He was ready to tear another strip off of Cambrio, but he was tired of it. It'd serve no purpose and would probably only drive him away again... and that was exactly what he didn't want. More than he needed his brother's help (which he didn't, really... he could probably do it himself, maybe, like he'd done many times before), he just needed his brother. Vittore Montegue might not act like it most of the time, but he valued family above all else. Sighing, he let go of Cam's arm and scooted to his feet, standing there to watch the younger man get to his feet.

"Tell me about this job, 'cause I'll be damned if I'm letting you leave again. I need another drink." He almost-demanded, motioning to the 'tender for another pint with his empty glass as the signal, then pausing to glance at Cam. "Another?"

[Cambrio Montegue]

The younger Montegue got up carefully, rubbing circles on his shoulder as he eyed his big brother with a wary scowl. He was half-expecting to get decked in the face again. When a full minute came and went without sign of the blow, Cambrio relaxed slightly. He sat down - perched really, on the edge of his stool, just in case he had to move quickly.

He shook his head at the opportunity for a refill. A sour feeling had settled in his stomach and he didn't want to risk throwing up. Vittore would never let him live it down.

"Jaro, the contact who set me up with this gig, has a cousin. On Tatooine." Cambrio paused to work his jaw, little bolts of pain shooting across his faintly bruised cheek with the open-close movement. Krasst. His brother hit hard. It'd be black and blue come tomorrow morning.

"Been having showdowns with a dragon the last couple of months - greater krayt, real aggressive. Seven dead so far. The payout's really good. It's really freakin' good."

Cambrio didn't give a crap about the credits. They were nice, but they were a footnote. The only reason he mentioned it was because Vittore needed a reason to believe that he was serious about this; let him think that he cared about making a profit, then.

"Listen," Cam looked at Vitt, looked away. Looked back. He let out a breath, slow and even. Winced. "You don't gotta come, man. It's okay. We can still keep in touch. We should. Y'know, go look for... him. It's what you want to do, right?"

[Vittore Montegue]

"No, I need to." He accepted the fresh pint from the server, gave a vague smile and a noncommittal grunt and turned back to his brother, taking in some of the new pour. "It's got nothing to do with wanting. We just got back together and if this thing is as big as you say it is, you might need my help. Besides, if dad's caught, he ain't exactly going anywhere. If he's not, he can take care of himself, right?"

Vitt looked down into the pale amber liquid and sighed. He hated to sound like he was brushing off his worry for his father, but Cam mattered too. Yes, he wanted to go look for his dad... at the same time, Cam was here. Cam was family. He couldn't so easily leave that alone.

"If dad wanted to be found, he'd find us." He said, dully. "You think I waited until now to look for him? I can't keep trudging on a cold trail and spend my spare time sulking anymore, Cammy. Taking jobs only when I really need 'em and all that. He would want me and you to do the job. Do any job it takes to keep this galaxy safe where others can't be bothered."

[Cambrio Montegue]

Cam nodded, trying not to show the relief he felt. They'd been ready to inflict some serious harm on one another mere moments ago but that hadn't meant anything. Not really. It had never been about him and Vitt; that their relationship had gone by the wayside was an unfortunate casualty of events that Cam still found hard (read: impossible) to approach with objectivity.

And his older brother felt the same way. It was the best freaking news he'd heard in months.

"Vitt," Cambrio started, only to trail off into an awkward silent beat. He'd been about to voice his earlier thoughts, but looking at Vittore now it seemed a wholly inappropriate time. The man was wearing a hooded expression that Cambrio recognized with a slow start, memories surfacing with sluggish energy. Vitt felt uncomfortable. He'd said too much and thought they were entering 'girl territory'.

Cam cleared his throat and nodded. Maybe it was better that way. "Uh. So, based on the intel, I've pinpointed a few likely areas where the krayt could be nesting. Once we get there it shouldn't be hard to locate it and then..."

His voice settled into an even rhythm as he spoke, running down through all the details for his -- their -- next job. This was easy. This was familiar.

The rest of it? Well. They'd cross those bridges when they got to them.