Out of Remix

[Makoto Neo]

Pity.

There were so many of them, so many of the walking weaklings. Spoiling the air, the soil, the very fabric of the universe with their petty squabbling and moaning. Makoto pitied them for they would never find the time, the power, to take what they willed. To see the truth.

The wolf-kind shook his head, turning sharply on his heel. His lips curved up in a brief smile as he acknowledged a passerby, best keep his cover low in the Jedi infested part of Courscaunt. One little mishap and he could well have a dozen of the fledglings on him, just wanting a piece of glory. A reason to boast their efforts.

His shoulders shrugged in thought before his hands adjusted the black leather Stetson he wore as part of his disguise. Blue denim slacks, a black sleeveless shirt covered by a brown, wind-worn jacket, cowboy boots and a rough leather belt to give him the look of a rancher, or something of the sorts. Two slug-throwers are attached to his belt, his sabers hidden in the coat. Again, he greeted a passerby before sliding into a techno bar.

Mako didn’t mind the bouncy music, but it wasn’t a place for a privately talk.

[Tyrus Tajo]

-Tyrus spotted the diguised figure as he entered the club. He clearly seemed uncomfortable in here so he asumed he was also here for the anonymity of the crowd.
He noticed he walked a little funny and as he drew closer he could smell it in his scent.
Tyrus looks like a human, talks like a human, thinks, and even behaves like a human, but Tyrus is a Cizerack.
Born an orphan he was raised a mercenary by human soldiers in the private army known as the "steel legions" which had taken him on many missions.
Now a hardened veteran of countless conflicts, Tyrus is simply too far gone to try and be Cizerack now, but, the advantages were obvious.
His employers thought him human albeit more physically able then most.

Despite his apperance, this Cizerack was indeed a Cizerack and this Cizerack could smell a wolf in sheeps clothing.
He decides to play it safe, sit back and observe a momment.
If the wolf noticed the cat sitting over here then he would undoubtedly approach.
Tyrus hoped this was the case because he wasn't aware of such a humanoid wolf species and.....................well,...................yo u learn something new everyday.-

[Makoto Neo]

Mako shoved a raving lunatic out of his path as he zig-zagged through the croud. With all the bodies constantly moving, the alcohol in the air, and the pounding music, Mako didn't notice the strange, familiar scent in the air until he reached the bar.

But he did notice the eyes watching him.

One hand reached down to his guns, instinctfully, as his eyes darted around the crowd. It was too loud to hear anything and the constant drumming distorted his concentration. So, Mako was left with two other options; Visual and Olfactory.

Sniff... sniff.. Mako nodded with a tip of his head. Yes, there was that familiar odor, but faint. Cizerack.

[Tyrus Tajo]

-Noticing the figure sniffing the air intentively, Tyrus thinks aloud.-
"Okay,........definatley not human then."

-Seeing the arrival reach for his guns a momment makes Tyrus move for his.
He smoothly places a hand on the holster strapped to his right thigh, unbuttoning the saftey strap.
To hand, he had only the one silenced slug-pistol at his disposal but this fine shooting veteran only needed the one shot, a shot that he didn't want to take but would if the visitor decided to act.-

[Makoto Neo]

This isn't the place, Mako, and you know it.

Mako relaxed his 'offence' hand, letting it slide to the bar to reattach to a glass of scotch. Telepathically, he worded a silent call: "Stop this hiding foolishness.."

[Tyrus Tajo]

"Stop this hiding foolishness.."

-Tyrus heard the call clearly, his hand rebuttons the saftey strap and he reaches for his drink. Telepathy, must of been, certainly didn't make that up all on his own.
Which meant that he was dealing with a Jedi wolf. No, not Jedi, this one smelled darker, besides, Jedi don't go sneaking around in bars is such disguises or quite so armed.

Tyrus rises to his feet and picks up a rucksack up of the floor.
He walks to a stool closer to the wolf-man. As he walks, his trenchcoat moves a little showing a hint of the blue armoured body-suit beneath.
He puts his bag down, leaning it against the bar, next to his new stool. He sits back down and with a lop-sided grin he inquires....-

"Need I even ask?....."

-.....before taking another sip of his strong drink, awaiting the reply.-

[Makoto Neo]

Mako gave a small side glance, toying with the glass in his hand. So, this was the rabbit in the hole, so to speak. He took another slip from the glass, pondering a reply to the question slowly.

"I don't know, what's the question?" He asked, turning in his seat slightly, "By the way, your right, I'm no Jedi."

[Tyrus Tajo]

-With a small smile he replied.-

"No I thought not, look more like a Dark Jedi or a Sith to me.
And the question was "what's a wolf-man-Sith doing lurking around, in disguise, in a club?" or did your telepathy not pick up on that one?"

[Makoto Neo]

Mako shrugged, " I don't usually impose on someone's thoughts unless I have a need to, you, on the other hand, had focused your thoughts my way."

He spun around in his seat, looking at the crowd as he leanded back against the bar table. He tipped his hat upin a very westernish manner and watched, "An' who said I was lurking around. Best to keep your status hidden when yours surrounded by Jedi, you know?"

[Tyrus Tajo]

"To true, friend, to true.
Being an Imperail Operative, I can't be to careful myself."

[Makoto Neo]

"Imperial Operative," Mako repeated, refilling his glass, "Classy line of buisness, I'd say."

[Tyrus Tajo]

"Heh heh, it's not as glamourous as it is in the holo-vid stories you know.
But I suppose as long as people THINK it is then I get all the cradit of being the super hero, I guess in that respect I can't complain."

[Makoto Neo]

Mako chuckled, "I know how the line is, I use to be a sniper under the Imperial's, just in a different faction." He simulated holding a rifle, pointing into the croud, "Twas' the days before I started with the force, now the marksmanship isn't truely skill."