Free Bird: Score To Settle (open)

[Caine Korhal]

2 years.

2 goddamn years! Prison was Hell, but I survived it. Barely. I guess it wouldn't have been so bad if I'd deserved it. Well, maybe I did - I'm a criminal after all. But the fact that I went down for somebody else infuriates me. Especially since that somebody else betrayed me after everything I'd done for them. Ever since then I've been dying for some payback. And now that I'm out, I'm gonna get it.

My name's Caine Korhal, and I'm the scum of the galaxy. And up until 2 years ago I was the idiot of the galaxy too; idiotic enough to be at every beck and call of the most incompetent son of a ***** in the galaxy; idiotic enough to take the rap for something that incompetent son of a ***** had done. And idiotic enough to just sit there in court while that incompetent son of a ***** sat back without backing me up like he said he would. And you might say I'm still idiotic enough to not clean my act up right now, forget the whole thing and start a new slate on the legal side of life. Well they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

I used to work for a guy named Anton. People say he was one of the most feared crime lords in the sector. To be honest, I couldn't see it. To me, he was what I thought was a long-time friend who'd do almost anything for me. But all he was, and still is, is a selfish man who gets everything done for him by other people. While you're useful, you're blue-eye. And when you're not - well, look what happened to me.

I've got a feeling Anton already knows I'm out. And I've got a feeling he's already put a price on my head. And he has a right to, because I'm comin' for him, and hell's comin' with me.

Starport, arrivals terminal 13
Tika-Dann District, Coruscant
Early afternoon

Usually when I've had a long-haul trip I'm groggy and tired, but this time I'm feeling refreshed. I was imprisoned at Strangefellows on Corellia. It wasn't the nicest place in this big ol' void of blackness but I've seen worse. I was just able to afford a ticket to get me back home, albeit it the economy section. I've got a friend who can fill me in on whats been goin' down while I've been inside, and who can perhaps hook me up with weapons and point me in the right direction so I can start looking for Anton and show him just how much I've missed him. And I hope he's got a comfy bed - I could use a good night's sleep. Still, I was able to get some rest during the flight, hence my current vitality. Which is a good thing. As I walk towards the exit, I notice that I'm already being followed. No doubt hitmen hired by Anton. Funny, I wasn't expecting a welcoming committee this soon. Too bad I don't have a weapon. But at least they won't try anything in here. Or at least I don't think they will.

[Bronson]

Bronson had been on the flight out from Corellia out to Coruscant the entire time, he of course, was flying first class. But he knew his target wasn't going to try anything, such as an escape, during the trip. He was just there for the decent food and to ensure the target was where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be. So far so good.

After the ship had docked at the space port the people had been filed out section by section, first class first, economy last. It gave Bronson a chance to use the refresher and wait for his target to exit the ship and make his way to where his ride was waiting. Though Bronson didn't like it, but several hitmen were following him expecting a lead to the target. A lead was what they would get, but apprehension was his. He didn't want those men to get in the way.

Bronson waited until the target was outside flagging down a speeder to take him wherever he wanted to go. Bronson entered a vehicle himself and was follwed by two hitmen who joined him. He signaled his driver to follow wherever the target was going. Quietly Bronson slid his mask on and his view of the world around him changed drastically. Everything, from sound to smell to magnetics, was translated into visual images. The plan for now was to wait until the target made a move against him. His client had informed him that the target was very... foolish.

[Caine Korhal]

Dammit, I'm being followed. As I see the transport pull in behind us a few speeders back, I think back to a movie I saw one time on holonet; there was this guy who'd just gotten out of the slammer, and all these guys were on his back the second he was out. So he hooks up with this group of freedom fighters, and they've got all this equipment and stockpiles of weapons. One part, he gets picked up by a cab, and this transport follows him. So the back of the cab opens up and there's all these guns and grenades and cool stuff and he and the driver shoot the crap out of the transport. Instead, its just be and Mr. B, the cab driver. And something tells me he's never even held a real gun in his life. Regardless,. I need to lose my adoring fans quickly if I wanna make some headway.

'Hey pal, there's an extra 30 in it for you if you can lose the red X-2 behind us...'

I realised this cab driver liked his credits as I was thrown back into my seat like on the rides at the annual carnival on Raal. I used to take my daughter every year until her mother stopped me from seeing her at all. Things were better then. I miss Katie, but Marie can go and *****!

[Bronson]

He wasn't very liberal with words and only looked towards the driver to urge him to pick up the pace before the target got away. The driver caught on quickly and caused the speeder to jerk forward and began gaining on the cab.

The agents in the back seats we're chatting about nearly every topic in the galaxy. Obviously, they didn't understand the focus required for a hunt. It wouldn't surprise him at all if they wound up dead before the day was up. In fact, he was sure of it. He watched as the car rose in the air and merged with one of the upper traffic lanes followed by the next tier up. Their car rose as well and maintained chase.

Since he anticipated a chase such as this, he had brought along a compact projectile weapon; they alwasy seemed to fare better against vehicles than the standard blaster. He stuck it out the window and fired without hesitiation. Slow and hesitant moves made one vulnerable. He watched as the large projectile flew towards the cab. If his aim was on, which it was, the projectile would strike the rear repulsor and slow the speeder down.