Yo, Dawg, I Hear You Like Bounty Hunters!

[Li Ho Fook]

When the Grandmaster strode down the halls of Jovan Station, the crowds parted before him. Each step drew a gasp, a pointed finger, or a wide-eyed stare from the onlookers, while whispers tore like wildfire through the weaving, churning daytime foot traffic of the main promenade. The flashes of holocameras glinted against Li Ho Fook's black, beady eyes, yet he paid them no heed as he bore down upon his target with the focus of a sniper's laser blast.

Some stared at the gold chains and medallions which swung in pendulous form back and forth over his graphic tee shirt, while others were drawn to the stun blaster so prominently holstered upon his belt. Others still leaned down to see if they could catch a better glimpse under his flat cap, while yet more puzzled over Fook's unfamiliar race.

Short and stocky, the orange and black furred Wah was a most uncommon sight in the galaxy, only one of a handful to leave his home to see the stars beyond. Large, semi-rounded ears jutted out from beneath the rim of his glen plaid cap, black on the outside, yet fluffy and white within. Dark streaks rounded down from his eyes to his jawline, framing a small, white muzzle, while white also tipped the rounded ruffs of his otherwise orange cheeks. Beneath his cap's brim, a pair of little white "eyebrows" could also be made out if one was to look hard enough.

But overall, it was not Fook's race, blaster, or even his orange and cream ringed, fuzzy tail which captivated so much attention, it was what lay at the end of his black-furred left arm, beyond the gaudy gold wrist-chrono with it's diamond-studded face. In his paw he held the wrist binders of a pair of stun-cuffs, and in them he dragged a two hundred and fifty pound, unconscious Trandoshan as if he weighed nothing at all.

Such a sight would not be out of place for some massive Wookiee, but Li Ho Fook was only four feet, two inches tall, and yet he drug a man as if rolling a carry-on wheely-bag.

Li Ho Fook, the Grandmaster, was bringing in a bounty, and the crowd parted to give him clear and unhindered passage to the Jovan Station office of the Bounty Hunter's Guild.

"Yo, C-Crate," the diminutive Wah shouted once the office was in sight. "Pop dat closet, dawg; I gots a fat trey, yo!"

Whether or not the secretary behind the front desk understood a word of what Fook said, she simply nodded before giving the button under the counter an idle flick, never once taking her eyes off of some holo-soap drama she was watching. Along one wall, a durasteel door opened into a similarly-durasteel chamber some three feet square. Fook wasted litte time approaching it before winding up his left arm and heaving.

Like a curling stone gone mad, the Trandoshan slid aross the floor in a blur of speed before connecting with the interior wall with such force that his body doubled over into a crumpled heap, Fook roughly kicking his bounty's feet in after him, closing the door once the Trandoshan was fully inside.
"Sleep tight, yo," the Wah sneered through the transparisteel window on the door.

Only then did he pause to look himself over, smoothing his open overshirt, then adjusted the fit of his wrist-chrono before stepping up to the front counter, and onto the riser block provided for shorter races. An infochip was slapped down onto the counter, along with another card bearing the insignia of the Bounty Hunter's Guild.
"Ghorman Haask," Fook spat the name. "Brought that sucka in warm, so I gets my full bounty."

The secretary appeared unimpressed, but was at least thankful for a commercial break so she wouldn't have to miss a moment of her stories. With deft precision, and a great deal of apathy, she ran the chip and the card, verifying the identity of both the hunter and the hunted before sighing and pushing her spectacles further up her nose.

"That's Mr. Haask settled," she groaned. "You said you had a 'fat trey,' as well?"

"That's him, yo," Fook ticked his head back toward the cell. "Thirty grand. Fat three, trey, whatev, feel me?"

A thin, expertly-plucked eyebrow was raised toward fook, giving the secretary the distinct appearance of a Dreamworks animated feature character before she rolled her eyes. "Yes I... feel you. Sign here," she replied.

A screen came to life in the face of the counter, and Fook paused before signing off so that he could read through all the fine print. Satisified he wasn't getting screwed over, the Wah stroked his name down on the screen, and received verification of funds being deposited into his galactic bank account.
"Word," he nodded. "They said you gots another job for me. Wanna hook a playa up with them deets, homegirl?"

More commercials, so Fook had the secretary's mostly undivided attention. "Yeah, another live-only bounty, but it comes with a catch."

One of those little white eyebrows raised on Fook's face, and he prodded, "And that is?"

"Two-man job. Ten thousand for the bounty, and an additional two thousand to you upon successful completion," she replied.

"Two-man for only fat basic?" Fook sneered. "Who's the cat you stickin' me with, C-Crate?"

The secretary's prim, thin lips tightened in the most annoyed of frowns as the commercial break had ended, yet she replied, "Him. New prospect. The additional two thousand is for your instuction, as well as an honest rating of performance upon completion of the job."

"Dag, yo, you stickin' me on babysitting duty? Aw, hell naw, dawg! Not on some ten K shit! That shit ain't worth it! This playa needs at least twenty for that shit to even rate, yo!"

"It's the job best suited for a rookie's first bounty," the secretary sighed.

"Well fuck that shit, yo! This is the Grandmaster, dig? I can handle a fat basic when I'm asleep, feel me? Y'all better recognize, before I have to step, homegirl."

Only half of what Fook spouted off made any sense to the secretary, but that half was enough to make her check the system to see what else was available. Due to an outbreak of peace in the area, there was a dearth of good-paying jobs, yet Fook's file was flagged as possessing his own ship, so she expanded her search to the wider network.

"We've got a twenty-five K on Lothal," she offered.

"Lothal? Daaag, that shit is way out the hood, yo! Nothing closer?" Fook protested.

"Nope, it's that or the ten k, take your pick."

Fook's fuzzy fingertips drummed on the countertop as he bit his lip in quiet, deliberating frustration. "Fine, I'll take the Lothal gig. Now who's this rookie I gots to school?"
"Him."

A slender finger pointed across the way to a young man who had been seated in the lobby the entire time. Human, from the looks of it, and with a bag. Well, at least this one had been smart enough to pack, Fook thought to himself, and he hopped off the riser to approach his new charge.

"Yo, you think you gots what it takes to be a real playa, G?" the Wah said with a mild sneer, sizing up his new, and hopefully only temporary, partner.

[Abarai Loki]

You have what it takes. This is a great opportunity. You can do this.

For the past hour, Loki had told himself these three things. Over and over again, while he waited for his mentor to walk through the door. He reminded himself whenever the feeling came back, like a sickness, turning his insides into knots. Three times he visited the 'fresher, and, three times, he had nothing to show for it but gas. And, on his third squatting, as he hoped for something substantial, it dawned on him that perhaps his roiling intestines were a sad metaphor for his grand new designs to become a bounty hunter: nothing but bluster and hot air.

Maybe he was being reckless. After all, what did he know about bounty hunting? It was bringing wanted criminals to justice, and that should be enough. But Loki had heard the stories, of sinister dealings, bribery, treachery, and literal back-stabbings; justice was best observed in the plain light of day; in the dark of the criminal underworld, it became something else. When Loki had left Ossus for the great unknown, he was confident in his decision, and now, in once again answering the call of the unknown, he didn't have a clue. But one thing was certain: he had to leave.

The love affair with Jovan Station was over at last. Here, he had friends, he had security, and a place he could call home. It was everything he wanted and nothing he needed. For all the richness of his experiences, something was missing, something vital, like there was a hole in his chest, gaping, empty, and cold. It was the wound he had inflicted upon himself in the shape of Wexley Wallis; in his complacency, Wex had invaded his life, and infected his heart, breeding happiness, killing him with contentment. And, as much as he disliked the notion of fate, he was grateful to whatever imaginary forces were at work the day he stumbled upon the bureau for the Bounty Hunters' Guild. There was a notice in the window, daring him to step forward and take on a new challenge. That was when he saw him:

Abarai Loki, reflected in the plexiglass. He was older than he remembered, he was handsome and quite normal, and there was a drop in his shoulders, like the great weight that was once there was finally gone. But his eyes, as cold and blue as ice on a clear day, the eyes of a hunter in sight of his prey, that was where he truly resided. In that moment, Wexley Wallis died. The farewells were generous, if not unsurprising, for all except Anauri, who seemed to have expected it all along. He said there would always a position available for a good droid engineer, should he return, but they both knew it was just a courtesy. He wasn't coming back. They said good-bye with a handshake and a smile, and Loki left to start the next chapter in his life.

It started with a crash. The unconscious Trandoshan folded from the force of his landing, almost a perfect fit for the humble cell. Close behind, followed an inexplicably small and strange-looking alien, who made adjustments to his prize with the unkind edge of his shoe. Once the shock of his dramatic appearance subsided, Loki watched him with fascination, wondering, first, what was he wearing, and secondly, whatever in the galaxy was he saying. He understood the transaction well enough, by virtue of understanding the handler's purpose, but the whole exchange was a struggle, to say the least. That was until the conversation turned to him.

"Aw, hell naw, dawg!"

Whatever the little alien said, Loki shared the sentiment down to the last excruciating ounce of disbelief. That was to be his mentor!? A last fleeting desire to abandon his latest aspiration took hold, but not long enough to see him out the door, for he was no longer alone. There, at eye level, was the littlest bounty hunter, sneering in his face. You think you got what it takes...

The knots untangled, and Loki stood.

"I do." He said, and gave his response a moment to breath before he extended his hand, "Igo Flax."

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook studied the young human, glad at least that it wasn't some fat kid who had played too much Grand Theft Speeder and though that made him "hard." The Wah's paw went up to accept the hand offered to him, though his grip was one displaying the same level of strength needed to skid that Trandoshan across the floor, before he let go, flicking Loki's fingers in so he could give him a proper fist-bump to seal the greeting.

"Li Ho Fook," he introduced himself. "But most call me the Grandmaster, feel me?"

Another look up and down his new charge, and Fook decided it could be much worse. "C'mon, dawg, grab your shit, we gots a job, yo." With that, he didn't give much option but to follow as he turned to head out the front doors and back into the station proper. "So, hook a playa up, what makes you want to be a bounty hunter, Flax-dawg?" he asks.

[Abarai Loki]

Igo Flax was not an alias he had agonised over half as much as Wexley Wallis, which meant that when he heard it being mutilated into some inevitable wretched nickname, he would be able to stomach it. But there were, as ever, limits to his tolerance. And the Grandmaster was about to find that out.

"I enjoy a challenge," he said, plucking snippets of sense from the nonsense, "Bounty hunting offers a challenge, and the opportunity to bring wanted criminals to justice."

While he spoke, Loki absently kneaded the palm of his hand, where he could still feel the bounty hunter's touch, lingering like phantom fingers of pain. Between them, a litany of unspoken words had been carried by the tension, from hand to aching hand. The message was unsubtle, but clear. Gone were the days when Loki's pride was too large to be swallowed; he could play the part of the apprentice if it meant he was going to learn something, but there wasn't a chance in hell that was going to accept the role of a domestic fracking animal.

"I do not, however, enjoy being referred to as a dog," his steely gaze was turned on the tiny gaudy alien at his side, "Unless you see a collar around my throat, you will refer to me as Igo, Igo Flax, if you are feeling formal, or Iggy, if you are not. Do you understand, Li Ho Fook?"

[Li Ho Fook]

If ever there was a way to be looked down on by a man nearly two feet shorter than yourself, Li Ho Fook managed to do it. Head tilting slightly to one side, he crossed his arms over his chest, gold chains and medallions clinking while the glitter and gleam of tiny diamonds sparkled from the face of his wrist-chrono into the eyes of Igo Flax.

"Oh, I get that edition, homie," he said, a cutting bite upon his voice. "But I think it's you who don't copy, feel me? Dawg, not dog. It's a term, yo. Means homie, homeboy, friend, bro, home skillet, cat, cuz', fam, you dig? You want to be a bounty hunter, you want to be all hard, I feel you, I do. But you can't be steppin' to me when you be expecting me to lay my knowledge on your dumb self, because that is straight whack, yo."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki's mouth opened to respond, to fire off a retort with the terrible immediacy of a proton torpedo, only to find his arsenal empty. The edge in Li Ho Fook's voice had been so blatant, he might as well have fitted a scabbard to it; he was not one to let that kind of attitude slide without contestation. And yet, there was one glaring problem.

"What in star's name did you just say to me?" Loki blurted, his face contorted with disbelief, "Was that even Basic?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"D-A-W-G, dawg," Fook repeated slowly. He over-enunciated each letter, while simultaneously punctuating with a lift of one finger per. "It means friend or mate, but not the sexy kind, yo."

For more than a moment the Wah considered his options. One: he could put up with Igo Flax, who couldn't even understand what he was saying, or two: he could save himself a world of frustration by updating his mission to solo status. But therein lay a problem most ill, as in order to do so, he'd have to register the work as incomplete before accepting the same job again, which would result in an unsightly blemish upon his record and standing with the Guild. Bushy tail thumping the ground behind him, Fook rubbed his brow with two fingers before sighing.

"Listen, homie, you want to play my game, I'm here to teach you the rules, feel me? I won't step to you -" he paused, taking a deep breath before remembering to speak proper cracker, "I won't disrespect you, and you don't disrespect me, got it? You wants to be a hero, this may not be your gig. Bounty hunters ain't heroes, cuz; we's an arbiter of justice for credits. That's the straight column. You cool with that, you can roll with me."

[Abarai Loki]

"I have no intention of disrespecting you," Loki's right eye narrowed, just an incredulous twitch held at bay, "Clearly, there has been some misunderstanding. Your... slang is difficult to follow."

There could be no more than twenty paces between them and the guild bureau, and already there were the first sparks of conflict. That had to be a new record. His shoulders sunk and his gaze drifted as he considered the strange wordless deadlock. All around, the bustling denizens of Jovan made ignorance into an art form - a stark reminder that he was unremarkable and his new mentor was so so small. Good sense compelled him to move on, and he got as far as one step when all that good sense went right out the airlock. He wheeled around on Li Ho Fook, positively aching to make sense of it all:

"I cannot be the first person to say you speak odd."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Oddly." The word's inflection was so flat you could grow wheat on it and call it Kansas. "When describing an action, it's best to use an adverb, holmes. So I'd speak 'oddly,' or 'strangely,' dig?"

He spoke as he continued to walk, weaving through the promenade traffic en route to docking bay three. "Alternately, you could have said, 'Yo, homie, that diction be mad whack, feel me?'"

[Abarai Loki]

The correction struck him like a slap to the face. As Li Ho Fook went on to provide suggestions, Loki could do nothing but bear the brunt of them, arms folded, waiting for it all to end. Clearly, there was more to this pint-sized motormouth than met the eye - in more ways than one. The minor victory was conceded with courteous silence, that was until his new mentor offered a third, unconventional, alternative. It was time to bite.

"Ok," Loki began, as if he were preparing himself for a mental leap at something, "So... 'mad whack'... means 'bad', right?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"More like terrible," Fook clarified. "'Whack' is bad, but with the added modifier of 'mad,' it becomes even more bad, thus terrible. Subsequently, other modifiers such as 'hella' and 'wiggidy' also would alter the level of whackness in their own way. Dag, you never watch holovision, homie?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Sometimes," he said, a touch defensive that his blatant normality was being questioned, "Though I don't very much care for the foreign channels."

There was a carefree lift to his voice as he spoke, it was a verbal shrug. His face was deadpan. A casual glance here and there, inspecting the crowds, picking out interesting faces, and then, he continued:

"How long have you been bounty hunting, Li Ho Fook?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Just Li or Fook, bro. And, 'bout ten years," Fook replied with a shrug. "Maybe eleven, at least ten though. You work hard, and go after them big scores, you can make that fat paper, feel me?"

The trek to docking bay three was a short one, being the closest public bay to the Guild office, and despite his reduced stature and short legs, Fook set a commanding pace. "You gots everything you need in that bag, homie? Don't need to wave to fam before we go?" he asked. "Because, yo, once we board the whip, ain't no turning back, dawg."

Either no objection came, or Loki had no clue what Fook was saying, and so the Wah led on into the cavernous docking bay itself. Over a dozen small craft were parked there, some sleek and gorgeous light starfighters, a brick-like light freighter, a couple older, yet reliable personnel transports, and a few others. Fook carried on through the bay, careful to remain on the pedestrian walkways, turning down one toward a stunning luxury starship. It was smoked chrome in finish, its engines like sculptures flowing with the elegant lines of its fuselage, while spotless, blacked-out windows reflected the bay around them. Sleek panels covered weapons bays, while sensor arrays were surely packed into its pointed nose. Truly the ship was a work of art, and Fook smiled as he walked right on past it to his own ship, the 36'th Chamber.

In every way that the smoked chrome luxury space yacht was tasteful and elegant, the 36'th Chamber was garish and loud. Electric orange metallic paint covered the top half of the one-time Squib light freighter, while a chrome lime green lined the underside, breaking against the orange in a graffiti-esque stripe of purple which ran the ship's length. Massive engines which had never been intended to be equipped on a ship so small bulged from the sides and back, while gleaming silver landing gear was lit in neon purple ground lighting as Fook approached. Heavy laser cannons tucked under the thing's short wings, making it look like a duckling attempting to carry a pair of machine guns, while a turret over the cockpit sported a smaller double cannon of its own. Painted panels covered a pair of proton torpedo tubes, while all of the ship's glass was tinted over in a film of mirror gold.

"That's my whip, yo. The 36'th Chamber," Fook announced, staring at his ship with pride.

[Abarai Loki]

"That is an interesting..." Loki froze, gaping, scrabbling about in the murkiest recesses of his mind for something positive to say, "...name."

If there had ever been any doubt in his mind, the sight of the 36th Chamber confirmed that, of all the strange and colourful words in Li Ho Fook's vocabulary, 'subtlety' was not amongst them. It was showy in ways that defied logic, like a bodybuilder with anaemic spindly legs, and the garish paint job was downright headache-inducing. It was a small wonder Li Ho Fook managed to capture anyone at all, with a ship so loud, his targets would surely hear him coming from light years away. He turned a troubled look towards the miniature bounty hunter. And yet, in so many ways, it was the perfect counterpart to a smart-mouthed teddy bear in sneakers and gold chains. What had he got himself into?

He took his first step towards it with all the grim determination of someone attempting their first bite of B'omarr-pickled scrubroot, that is to say with dread in his heart and a foul taste in his mouth. Nothing about the sight of it made sense to him, as if it had been coughed up from the bowels of some unsavoury underworld where bad was good and good was bad. Still, as he approached he had to admit that, despite its vulgar appearance, it was clear that someone loved this thing. The chassis was glossy and smooth, and the fixtures practically gleamed like jewellery in their own right. It looked like, if nothing else, his time aboard the 36th Chamber would be comfortable and, most importantly, clean.

"How fast does she go?" he said, with a nod at the obscene engines.

[Li Ho Fook]

"36th Chamber caps out at 149 MGLT in sublight, but she'll do point six past light speed." Fook's face lit up with a smile as he surveyed the garish and gaudy starship. "Yo, but you wanna see the real badass part?"

The Wah turned to Loki with an eager grin, almost as if he was about to burst if he couldn't show it off. Clearly Li Ho Fook did not have many friends.

"Adaptive camouflage, dawg!" His exclamation timed perfectly with the stab of a button on the key fob he'd fished from his pocket. Starting at the 36th Chamber's nose, a ripple formed in the paintwork and spread back over the ship's surface in an expedient wave. Where there had once been brilliant color, there now was only black, save for the gold windows. "It's electrostatic paint, yo. Run a current through that shit, and BAM! Stealth mode, dat's what I'm talkin' 'bout!"

[Abarai Loki]

When the ship changed colour, Loki's eyebrows attempted to launch themselves into orbit. And, when they finally crashed down again, the lower half of his face became creased with disbelief. Compelled to get a closer look, he walked around the side of the ship, inspecting every inch of its once garish hull. The only colour that remained was the chrome of the landing struts and the gold of the viewport. At night, it would've been very difficult to see; in space, it would be invisible. Finally, he found his voice.

"I have never seen anything like that before." One glance at his unlikely mentor told him everything he needed to know, and, in this instance, he was willing to give him what he wanted. First, a nod, and then, "Okay, Li. I am impressed."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Saw some shop usin' that paint on trick-ass speeders, and I was all, 'Yo, dawg, hook a playa UP!" Fook grinned. The work had not come cheap, and it had taken a full week to be done, but the effect was worth every one of the thousands of credits the bill had run him. Another click of the key fob and the 36th Chamber wiped back to its technicolor madness.

"You think that's tight, homie, wait until you scope the digs, feel me?"

Waving a paw for Loki to follow, the Wah walked around to the back of the ship where the rear hatch opened automatically, easing down into a boarding ramp. Durasteel plate with textured rubber for grip, the surface of the ramp was utilitarian, but what lay beyond it was anything but.

Plush, deep purple carpet lined the floor, edged with gold trim where it met the walls, while two pairs of massive lockers flanked the entry, each sheathed in some exotic hardwood with gold fixtures. Beyond them was the main living area, where a massive holivision dominated one wall opposite a banquette upholstered in similar deep purple crushed velvet with a golden button-tuck design which surrounded a white marble table in its curve. The kitchenette's fixtures gleamed with more gold, while the walls were papered in a black and white zebra pattern, overlaid with the logo of some expensive designer brand. Past the living quarters was the door to the 'fresher and sonic shower, and then an exotic wood door to what was presumably Fook's living quarters. Ahead of that lay the cockpit, though its own wooden door was closed.

Fook walked right up the ramp, then folded down a small bench attached to one of the lockers, where he proceeded to untie his sneakers and remove them before tucking them into a nearby cubby. "C'mon, Flax-dawg, park your ass at the table and I'll get G-Dawg to theater the bounty specs."

[Abarai Loki]

For a moment, Loki lingered at the top of the boarding ramp, dazed by the sheer amount of colour that greeted him. If the exterior of Li's ship was unconventional, then the interior was so bizarre that one would be hard-pressed to identify it as a ship at all. It looked like a bachelor pad that had been cooked up in the psychedelic-induced dreams of a blind billionaire. Li, now bare-footed, was beckoning him inside. The hesitation lasted a fraction of second, long enough to know that something was wrong, but he soldiered on.

Slowly, laboriously, Loki worked at his laces, pulling them free from his scuffed boots. Once Li looked away, he snatched off both boots, revealing a pair of tatty threadbare socks that had holes for his big toes, and they, too, were removed in a heartbeat, and stuffed deep inside the boots. With the footwear stowed away, Loki stepped inside and, as the rich carpet eased itself between his toes, he had to bite back a moan of unadulterated pleasure. It was like walking on bed of muunyak wool, only cleaner. Behind him, the ramp gave a hiss, shutting out the hard artificial light of the docking bay, and the interior mood lighting came into its own.

Deeper into the 36th Chamber, he ventured, drinking in his surroundings like a drunk who should know better. Everything looked so expensive and yet so cheap, at the same time, and, similarly, he found himself repulsed and in awe in equal measure. And the smell! It was clean, and fresh, with a hint of lime for sharpness. The whole experience was something of a sensory overload, with the bold colours, the pleasant smells, the peculiar trinkets, the luxurious textures, the headache-inducing patterns, and, of course, the indecipherable language.

"G... Dawg?" He repeated, almost choking on the pronunciation. If there was one thing he was beginning to understand about Li's slang, it was that the word 'Dawg' typically referred to a person, which meant there was someone else on board. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Loki took a seat at the table, and dared to ask: "Who is that?"

[Li Ho Fook]

The holovision screen flared to life, dominated by the face of a human male who appeared to be of Asian descent with a long, neat black beard, and adorned with a gold-rimmed green cap upon his head. "THAT WOULD BE ME, HA HA HA!" a friendly, if not bombastic, voice boomed through the ship's audio system, and the face smiled. "I AM GUAN YU, I AM THE GRANDMASTER'S ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE UNIT, AND YOU COULD SAY I'M ALSO THIS SHIP." Turning to face Fook, Guan Yu, smiled broadly. "I TAKE IT YOU HAD NO TROUBLE WITH HAASK? GOOOOD! HOW DELIGHTFUL. WHAT'S OUR NEXT TARGET? WILL I GET TO BLOW ANYTHING UP? HA HA HA!"

"Dunno yet, G," Fook replied after inserting the data chip he'd been given into an access slot. Climbing up onto a seat at the banquette, he pointed to Loki. "Yo, this here is Igo Flax, he thinks he's got what it takes to be a bounty hunter, so I'm schoolin', dig?"

Guan Yu's digital face scanned Loki in great detail, a hand coming onto the screen to rub his chin through his beard. "IS THAT SO? WELL, HOPEFULLY HE LASTS LONGER THAN THE LAST ONE DID. WOULD YOU CARE FOR SOME REFRESHMENT WHILE I ACCESS THIS FILE, LI?"

"That'd be dope, yo," Fook nodded. "Make it two, cold."

"ABSOLUTELY, SIR!"

A spindly mechanical arm unfolded from a narrow cabinet in the kitchenette, and Guan Yu busied himself with dispensing something dark and brown from a pitcher in the fridge into a pair of crystal higball glasses, along with ice to keep things even colder. All the while a progress bar ran across the screen as his systems decrypted and unpacked the data file Fook had been given for their assignment. Glasses full, Fook retrieved them from the kitchen and carried each to the low table.

"Here y'go, dawg," he nodded before taking his own seat, then a sip. "G-Dawg runs the ship, see," he explained. "He used to just be a minor AI, controlling some automated gunship, or some shit, but I put him in here to run targeting and he fell in love with the 36th Chamber so I let him stay. Got him upgrades along the way so he can do whatever he wants, feel me?"

Turning to the screen, he called out, "Yo, G, how you likin' that image processing upgade? I see you rockin' a fly new cap, homie! Hella floss, yo."

Guan Yu beamed a smile his shoulders shaking as he boomed out a laught. "I'M GLAD YOU LIKE IT! I WAS SEARCHING HISTORICAL DATABASES WHILE YOU WERE AWAY, AND I FOUND THIS ONE. I THOUGHT IT WAS, HOW DO YOU SAY... MAD PIMP, YO!"

(Quick visual reference for Guan Yu, here)
http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/dynastywarriors/images/3/36/Guan_Yu_(ROTK10).png/revision/latest?cb=20131124043848

[Abarai Loki]

The sudden appearance of Guan Yu. The booming voice. And the ship that came to life and prepared to drinks of its own accord. Loki stared at all, struck dumb with disbelief; he was certainly not on Ossus anymore.

He could not remember when he accepted the drink, but the glass was in his hand, and it was already sweating. He took a sip, just for the sake of doing something, and found the tea to be so sweet it made his face almost turn inward on itself in disgust. In his distraction, he caught only fragments of the conversation that was taking place between the bounty hunter and his... holoscreen. Something about an upgrade, historical databases, and then more of Li's ridiculous jargon. Throughout it all, there was one question that congested the flow of his thoughts, and it begged to be asked.

"What do you mean, 'The last one'?" he wiped at is sullied lips in distaste, "What happened to him?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"SHE DIED! SHOT STRAIGHT THROUGH THE HEAD!" Guan Yu cheerfully replied. "IT WAS A BIG MESS, SO I'M TOLD."

Fook sipped at his own sweet tea, finding no discomfort in the overwhelming quantities of sugar it contained. "Yeah, she was this hotshot Mon Cal, feel me? Like, ex-military, she said, but yo, that was some straight bullshit. Bounty and his homies fire on us when we get close, but instead of finding cover, that whack shorty steps out and opens fire. Dag, I had Mon Cal brains all over a new shirt, and that dry cleaning bill was mad ill."

"I DO HOPE YOU'RE SMART ENOUGH NOT TO STAND IN THE LINE OF FIRE, MR. FLAX, SHOULD IT COME TO IT."

[Abarai Loki]

"I assure you, I have no intention of dying in some idiotic fashion."

Although he was responding to Guan Yu's question, Loki could not quite bring himself to look at the image on the screen, in all of its vibrant finery. Droids were one thing, but this was something else entirely. Loki cast his mind back to his time aboard Layla, with Cirrsseeto, and Captain Prent; there had been an artificial intelligence unit called MARCUS that ran many of the systems on the ship, but at the same time, it was confined to a small capsule that made it seem more like a droid than anything else. Guan Yu was the ship, and there was only so much absurdity he could stomach in one day.

"So," he turned his attention on Li, in a desperate attempt to drown out all of the colour, and the noise, and the eccentricity, "What do we know about the target?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"G, play the file," Fook said while leaning back into his crushed velvet seat.

Guan Yu's visage flickered away on the massive holoscreen, replaced by a series of security camera photos of their target. A female face half-shrouded in a hood, it appeared almost human until wider shots showed her to be a droid of humanoid build. "Athena," a computerized woman's voice began to read off the dossier. "A self-aware droid operating under the belief that droid ownership is slavery, and that droids are sentient beings who are being exploited by the various races of the galaxy. She has begun a cult which revolves around the notion of eternal droid life and freedom, promising her followers that they will live forever, continuously backed up and re-inserted into new chassis should their current ones be destroyed. She calls this cult the Droid Liberation Force.

"What began as an uprising or freedom fight has since blossomed into a crusade for the Droid Liberation Front, or DLF, and they have decided that casualties are permissible in their war for droid supremacy. Be aware that the DLF should be considered as armed and dangerous, and may adopt suicide tactics due to their belief in digital reincarnation. While some of Athena's captains have been destroyed and reincarnated in different chassis, Athena herself has always been seen in only one chassis, leading us to believe that she either has a particular fondness for its design, or her consciousness is incapable of being transferred due to the operational structure of her positronic brain.

"You must bring her in still capable of logical function, and she must not be powered down between capture and handover. Her own weapons systems are not known at this time, so take reasonable precautions when engaging. Her last known whereabouts are on the planet of Lothal, located in the Outer Rim. You will receive any known location updates during the course of your assignment should they become available. There is no additional bounty for the capture or destruction of her soldiers or officers at this time. Location will be added to your tracking system. This bounty has no published expiration timeframe, and requires a twenty-four hour window of notice prior to cancellation, should the assigning party cancel."

The briefing was standard, loaded with images, video, and as many known details as possible regarding their bounty. By the time it played out, only images of Athena, and a location marker on Lothal remained on the screen, and Fook's claws tinked away at his empty crystal glass.

"Hmmm, droids..." The overabundance of confidence he'd displayed up until that point was gone, replaced by genuine concern. "That complicates things."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki followed the briefing, statuesque in his fascination. And, as the details were revealed, he found himself less concerned about the logistics of their mission, and more engaged with the story of this... Athena. He had already encountered droids suffering from an overabundance of personality, and most recently, in Joey's R2 unit, the hideously-named Dat Boi. And, in his experience, droids and personality went together like canines and rabies. If it was Athena's goal to turn all droids rabid, then he would take a special satisfaction in putting a stop to it.

It was a struggle not to dwell on the how and why of Athena's existance - that was the curiosity in him, growling with hunger - but, from his very limited time with Li Ho Fook, he had already divined that the how's and why's were irrelevant. After all, questions don't sign paychecks. And yet, Li's remark left him puzzled.

"I do not see a complication. The renegade droids are collateral. Surely, this makes apprehending the target more straight-forward."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Not even close," Fook shook his head. "Dag, yo, I hate taking on droids. They can network information with each other, so you lose the element of surprise immediately. They can have their own shields, they don't get tired, you can't intimidate them," he carried on, his slang affectations fallen by the wayside as he put serious consideration into the mission before them. "They don't show up on heat vision, blowing off a limb won't kill them because they've got no blood to lose, and not to mention they don't have to breathe and they don't have to give a shit about radiation, so who knows what kind of killer hellhole they'll be holed up in. Dag, this is not good, dawg. This is some hella whack shit, and it don't pay near enough for this risk, feel me?"

The wah got up from his seat, removing his cap so he could scratch at his head in thought as he began to pace along the carpet. "If they wanted her dead, it'd be mad simple, yo. Set up some EMP bomb and fry them toasters, but that shit'll kill the payday. This shit'll call for armor-piercing and ion gats, minimum. Probably some explosives..."

Tossing his cap onto the table, Fook turned back to the holovision screen. "Yo, G-Dawg, pop the armory, fam."

"WITH PLEASURE!" Guan Yu's voice boomed, and even though he was not on screen at the moment, his smile was obvious. "THOUGH I FEEL COMPELLED TO TELL YOU THAT THE ONLY WEAPON YOU HAVE WHICH IS LEGAL FOR YOU TO CARRY ON THIS STATION IS YOUR STUN PISTOL."

"I feel you, bro," Fook nodded.

At the back of the ship, a pair of locks audibly popped on a bank of wood-sheathed lockers. Fook padded back to swing the doors wide open, revealing racks of blaster rifles, pistols, launchers, stun sticks, and all manner of offensive weaponry stacked from floor to ceiling in careful mounts, one of the doors bearing nothing but power cells and thermal detonators upon its own rack. Glancing back to Loki, the bounty hunter asked, "Yo, Flax-dawg, you ever use a gat, homie?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Gat?" Loki repeated, surfacing from his thoughts. Li's tactical analysis on the drawbacks of engaging droids in combat had given him much to consider, and not just about the droids. The ten years of bounty hunting experience was really starting to show. "I can't say I'm sure."

Rather than frown upon coming across yet another term with which he was unfamiliar, Loki rose out of his seat and joined Li to inspect the now-open locker. Upon peering inside, he felt his mouth fall open - it was not a good look, he was sure, but, when greeted by an arsenal of weapons that made a battalion of stormtroopers look ill-equipped, there was no other rational response. There were weapons he recognised in there, and there were some custom pieces, and some that looked downright illegal. A feat of superhuman mental fortitude returned him to the question at hand, with just enough sense to remember that Igo Flax had never trained with Alliance soldiers. He cleared his throat, and still his voice cracked:

"I... I've shot a few rounds."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Was hoping for a bit more experience than that," Fook replied. He studied his armory, taking mental stock of what may be viable, what was viable but too big to carry simultaneously, and what he could trust his new apprentice with. "You want to back out, dawg, I feel you. This ain't no rookie job; you feel you're not up for this, we'll cruise back to the office and get you hooked up with something your speed, yo. This gon' be some serious shit, from the looks of it."

The wah had not been reprimanded for losing his last apprentice, especially since there was security camera footage to show it wasn't his fault, but he would be damned if he was going to lose two in a row. Offering Loki a way out was the best way he knew to clear his conscience, and so it was put on the table as an option before they departed the station.

"If you roll with me, though, I'm'a expect you to be able to handle yourself, feel me?" His eyes didn't leave the weapon racks, and soon his paws selected a compact heavy blaster, cut down from its original size in order to suit his frame. Shouldering it, Fook kept the muzzle aimed in a safe direction, finger well away from the trigger, and the Tibanna gas meter read empty. "Were you a good shot, those few rounds you blasted?"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki snapped out of his firearms-induced awe the moment Li questioned his readiness. Unseen by the task-focused bounty hunter, his brow furrowed with annoyance, and his chest swelled with pride, and the breath to rebuke his ridiculous proposal. But he remembered himself in time to allow his shoulders to sink, and reconsider Li's words from the perspective of Igo Flax, instead. Next time, he told himself, his alias was going to be badass.

"I'll be fine," he said, finally. His arms folded across his chest, holding back objections. "I'm not going anywhere, Li."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Yeah you are, dawg," Fook replied. His paws worked over the blaster for another moment before placing it back upon it's specially-designed bracket. "You're going to Lothal with me."

It was all the deliberation Fook needed. Should this Igo Flax kid do well, he'd live and it'd be a positive note on Fook's record. If he got himself blasted into a million bite-sized pieces, well, it wouldn't be Fook's fault, now would it? Shutting the armory for the time being, the pint-sized bounty hunter flicked closed the latch, but left the main locks undone for the time being.

"Think it's time we get underway, dawg," he said. "C'mon, yo, 36th Chamber kicks like a bitch when she takes off; you'll wanna be riding shotgun, feel me?" Passing cleanly underneath his apprentice's crossed arms, Fook padded across his plush carpet and pressed his right paw against a scanner next to the cockpit door. He was rewarded with a hiss and the wood-veneered panel slid open, granting him access to the cockpit itself. "You comin', dawg?" he called back with a smirk before taking his place in the pilot's seat.

Like the rest of his interior, the cockpit was garish to the extreme. Both seats were upholstered in yet more purple crushed velved, trimmed with gold piping and contrast stitch, though Fook's seat had been specifically formed and shaped for his own exact size, whereas the copilot seat was left in its standard shape, capable of seating most races. Gold trimmed the rim of his viewscreen, while the cockpit walls were emblazoned with yet more designer logos in a strange sort of tiled pattern. Over the viewscreen ran a bank of wide monitors, their images stitching together a full 360 degree view around the ship, while down below it became immensely apparent this truly had been a Squib ship originally, as all necessary controls, buttons and switches were placed well within Fook's reach. At the center of the console sat a multipurpose screen currently displaying Guan Yu, and on the dashboard stood a bobbling Twi'lek dancer figurine, with the phrase "Haters gonna hate" written in script along its base.

Strapping himself in, Fook toggled up a few switches, and the pre-flight systems whirred to life. "G-Dawg, lay in a course for Lothal orbit, and also make sure our parking fee here's paid up."

"OF COURSE!" Guan Yu boomed back. "MR. FLAX, WOULD YOU KINDLY TAKE YOUR SEAT AND FASTEN YOUR RESTRAINT HARNESS SO THAT WE MAY COMMENCE LIFTOFF? PROPER SPACEFLIGHT SAFETY IS ESSENTIAL, YOU KNOW."

[Abarai Loki]

Whatever manner of ship the 36th Chamber had been prior to Li getting his hungry little paws on it, one thing was clear: it had not been built for wookiees. While the ceilings were of a reasonable height, every bulkhead and doorway gave Loki pause for thought. The entrance to the cockpit was no different, and it was cosy inside, too: one glance at the controls told him all he needed to know. Still, it wasn't uncomfortable; the warm glow from the row of monitors made it look inviting, and the co-pilot's chair was an impractical delight. Of course, the ambience was shot out of the sky when Guan Yu reappeared, booming away.

"Indeed," Loki responded, fastening himself in, as requested. He watched Li handle the controls, and acquainted himself with whatever switches and buttons were within arm's reach. It was familiar, and yet, world's apart from his previous co-piloting experience. "Li, what kind of- oof!"

The ship gave a sudden violent lurch, that pressed him, first, against the safety straps, and then pinned him hard into the seat. He sucked in another breath of air, and braced himself, rigid in his chair.

"You weren't kidding about the kick. What kind of ship is this, anyway?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Furry black fingers flittered across switches and levers while Fook's other paw held fast to the yoke as he bucked up from their landing position and retracted the landing feet while spinning around to face the stars beyond the force field of the docking bay. Jovan station had a listed maximum speed for the docking bay, and a slightly higher one for the immediate vicinity surrounding the station, and the 36th Chamber wasted no time in roaring right up to those limits, punching clean through the force field and into space beyond. Fook's eyes monitored their position vs. the speed limit boundary, and as they neared it, he said, "Look straight ahead, yo." The moment they reached the limit boundary into unrestricted space, Fook slammed the throttle lever all the way back.

There was no hesitation, the twin engines simply punched the small freighter out into space at breakneck speed, driving both occupants deep into their seats as the inertial dampeners attempted to keep up with the forces put upon the interior. X-Wings, TIE Interceptors, even some specialized racing ships had nothing on the acceleration of the 36th Chamber in open space, and soon the speedometer registered 135 MGLT. Fook held it steady there, feathering the throttle back down as the engines began to scream in protest. "G-Dawg, we clear to jump?" he asked, delaying an answer to the question he'd been posed.

"READY WHEN YOU ARE, HA HA HA!"

"Hit it, yo."

Li Ho Fook didn't even need to hit a button as Guan Yu took control. The stars before them stretched out into fierce lines before everything seemed to slow, then jolt forward as hyperspace surrounded the ship. Only then did Fook wind the engines back down and flick the autopilot switch before unlatching his safety harness. "She used to be some Squib freighter. Race even smaller than me," he replied. "Of course, she was weak as shit with them normal engines, so I swapped 'em out a few times since, added better weapons, and pimped out the interior. Had her for about seven years, now. Started in some little two-pod TIE I got cheap, but dag, that hoopty was a PIECE OF, feel me? 36th Chamber, though, she's straight custom, now. Think I've replaced just about everything but the hull," he laughed. "Most new hunters go out and blow their pay right off, dig? Don't do that, homie. Save for a good ship. Good equipment and a good ship means you can go after the bounties you want, not the ones closest to you, dig?"

[Abarai Loki]

Save for a good ship.

It was sound advice, whatever the circumstances, but, in the case of Li Ho Fook, it was apparent he had invested vast sums of credits into his ship to make it the perfect blend of armoury, speed racer, and home. Perfect was relative, of course, but there could be no denying the pride his peculiar mentor had in his 36th Chamber. Loki would have to ask him about that name, too.

What struck him most about Li's advice was that, whenever thought of himself travelling between worlds, he pictured large crowded passenger transports with terrible food and limited leg room; not once had he considered the possibility that he might eventually have his own ship. That was an exciting prospect: a place that was truly his own, that could take him wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. All he needed was credits. And a license. And, for that, he needed a job. Not oiling up naked Twi'leks or repairing sassy droids - a real job. He had to make this work.

"Li," he said, at last, "I want you to tell me everything there is to know about being a great bounty hunter. Every detail. I want to know it all... but first, I have to ask: if you're not a Squib, then what exactly are you?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Relaxing in his seat, Fook reached both arms up to fold his paws behind his head and stare at hyperspace unfolding itself around them. "I'm a Wah. Or, more accurately, I'm every Wah you're ever gonna meet, feel me?" he replied, a smirk drawing up his face. "Literally." One of his footpaws reached out, and he tapped a screen with a toeclaw.

Upon the main screen, Fook's ID came up, complete with Bounty Hunter Guild license, his piloting license, firearms permit, stun blaster permit, and edged weapon permit. But then it moved on to a different ID, Xiao Long Bao, and a different picture, but it was still Fook. Another ID, Ho Schuan, still Fook, as was Hung Lo, Gai Pan, Dim Sum, Dr. Rangoon, General Tso of the Royal Wah Military, and several others as he clicked through twenty ID's in all. Each one bore a different photo of Fook, and each one listed different ages, licenses, or skill sets.

"As far as the galaxy knows, there's a good twenty of us out here, homie, but that shit is whack," he explained. "It's all me, I'm the only Wah more than a light year from home, and all these help me get my work done. Cover, alibis, that sort of shit. You're human, you won't need all that, nobody questions it when your kind is around."

His fingers de-laced and the Wah slipped down off his seat, ticking his head back toward the main living area. "C'mon, gonna be a long flight, let's kick it in the crib, yo. You had lunch yet, Flax-dawg?"

[Abarai Loki]

At first, Li's explanation of his identity had him confused. It was troubling to consider it was possible for him to make even less sense than usual. But it all became clear when he started cycling through the myriad ID's on his computer. And, while he spoke, a thin smile stretched across Loki's face. As a veteran bounty hunter, Li Ho Fook had built up an impressive ensemble of colourful aliases to help him get the job done. On the other hand, Loki's bounty hunting career was only 30 minutes old, and he had already acquired for himself a couple of aliases in Wexley Wallis and Igo Flax. He was on the right track, regardless of what Li thought about humans.

"I haven't eaten since this morning," he said. A slice of lightly browned marble rock toast, along with a plain nutribar, had kept him going until now. Just the mention of food, however, made Loki ravenous. He was on his feet in an instant, following Li back into the living space with the crushed velvet couch. It was still difficult to believe someone actually lived like that. What if it was the bounty hunter way?

"You have told me about your aliases, Li," he said, returning to the same niggling question as before, "But I want to know about your people, the Wah. Where are you from? Are they all... like you?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Dag, you really don't watch the foreign channels much," Fook laughed. "Though, still wouldn't do you much good on knowin' the Wah even if you did."

As he spoke, he pressed a button which raised the floor platform of the kitchenette. If Fook could have his way, everything aboard the 36th Chamber would be tailored for his size so that he didn't have to work around surfaces intended to giants. But he did not always work alone, nor was he a stranger to carrying a passenger or two when needed, so his ship had been built to accommodate most standard humanoid bodies, while also housing adaptations for his own unique stature. Floors would lift, cabinets would descend, and where things could not move, narrow single-hand ladders were available. Being a normal-sized man in a galaxy of towering behemoths was no simple task, Fook had found.

A cutting board, wok, and various vegetables and cooking instruments were produced onto the counter, and he spoke while beginning to prep their lunch. "Are all humans like you, dawg?" he glanced back with a smirk before resuming his work. "To answer your question, no, the Wah are not all like me. In fact, I'd say I'm unique among my people. I mean, yeah, we all look like me, though the shortys got tits, feel me? My peeps is xenophobic to the extreme, yo. No outsiders welcome, and we don't leave, 'cept for for or five local traders. My peeps like bein' hidden away, so I help keep their privacy. Long story short: don't matter where I'm from 'cause we ain't goin' there."

A prime piece of nerf loin was laid out on the cutting board, where Fook sliced a decent portion of it into thin strips before putting those in a bowl to marinate with various sauces, spices and some minced garlic. He moved on to vegetables next, where his paw and knife moved so quickly that they were a blur, and the standard "chop chop chop" sound was only a hum before the perfectly-chopped veggies were dumped into a bowl of their own. Light seed oil was poured into the wok, and he turned the dished cooking pan in order to coat its surface with the oil as it warmed.

"While my world's closed off, but we gets holovision, which is how I learned about the galaxy in the first place, and how I learned Basic and a few other languages," he continued. "I was supposed to be a new trader when I grew up, so I learned how to fly and all that shit. But dag, once I got out here, I knew I had to see more, 'num'sayin'? But, if you wants to see, you gots to pay, so had to find a job. Did hella dumb shit until I hooked up with the Guild, and I been' doin' it ever since, dig?"

The bowl of vegetables was tipped into the wok with a hiss of steam, and he began to work the pan gently, keeping everything moving as it cooked. The layman would add his meat first, acting like it was a hunk of steak, but Fook knew that meat sliced so thin would cook quickly, and it was the veggies which needed to soften. Carrots, onions, green and red peppers, bamboo shoots, sliced water chestnuts, all of them turned and shook in his wok, seasoned lightly with some form of dark, thin sauce.

"Don't get me wrong, though, dawg, I love my family, but dag, out here is where this playa' belongs, yo. Can only take so much kung fu and temples and meditation and shit, feel me? Man's gotta get some action, yo. Gots to do more than look at the stars, gots to go feel 'em."

Behind him his thick-furred tail bobbed lightly, moving in time with his control of the wok as he shook or stirred its steaming contents, a heavenly aroma already filling the 36th Chamber.

[Abarai Loki]

"Is that where you learned to talk like that? Holonet?"

It was a reasonable assumption, he thought. Although, it made him wonder just what kind of strange things he watched. Loki had joined him in the kitchen area, deciding it would be in poor form to take a seat while a new acquaintance was preparing a meal, and with so much effort, too. He watched him, fascinated by the unusual preparation process. Loki's cooking skills were limited, but his love of food was great enough to make him want to learn at every opportunity. Then, when he saw Li chopping vegetables with uncommon speed, a host of new questions sprung to mind.

No sooner had he opened his mouth to speak than he bit back his words again. Perhaps it was a delicate matter - he didn't want Li to think he was making sweeping assumptions about his species, after all. There was time, he reminded himself. He would watch, and wait, and when the time is right he'd find out if all the Wah were gifted in the ways of the Force, or if Li Ho Fook was just a remarkable exception. And, when the dark sauce hit the pan with a ferocious sizzle, it wasn't difficult to sweep aside one burning curiosity for another. The smell was so good it made his stomach ache.

"What is that?" he said, with a nod to the hissing pan, "It smells very good."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Stir-fry, with nerf," Fook answered. A large pair of chopsticks, connected at their bases by a length of cord, were snatched up and used as stir sticks to further ensure even cooking throughout. "Yeah, didn't you ever watch The Dope Viceroy of Bela-Vistal? Dag, loved that show. Practically grew up on Yo! MHV Raps, too. Learned a lot about you humans, and other races, from holovision. Never dreamed I'd wind up ballin' hard like I do now, though!"

He continued his cooking, agitating the wok with one paw while tipping in the bowl of marinated nerf strips. A hiss and cloud of steam erupted, forcing him to move his head aside, yet he didn't stop mixing and stirring. "Yo, got some packets of noodles in the fridge. Snag me one, homie. 'Preciate ya."

A thick, dark sauce from another bottle was shaken into the mix, going in late so that it mix among the contents of the pan, buffered by the water cooking out of the vegetables still so it wouldn't burn on the metal surface, then a pawful of little, pale tan seeds was sprinkled in as well. "Another pro bounty hunter tip: Make sure your ship has a kitchen, and learn how to cook. Better for you, and keeps more paper in your wallet, feel me?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I can cook meat," Loki said, while he rummaged around inside the cold cabinet. With the noodle packets in his hands, he paused for thought, "Well, I can roast it, on a spit, over a naked flame."

Compared to the culinary wizardry taking place at the stove, he suddenly realised how inadequate that sounded. In sixteen years, he'd learned nothing about preparing food beyond the rudimentary trappings of wilderness survival. Tubers and mushrooms grow in the wild, he reminded himself. How did he not know how to cook a mushroom?

"I went camping with my father; we hunted corinathoths, and caught fish, and that's what we ate. Skewer a hunk of flesh with a stick and turn it until it was almost black. At least, that way, we could be sure it was cooked through." It was an almost wholly truthful confession, and one that left him feeling rather sheepish. He gave Li the noodles, and inspected his progress, "This is a recipe from home, isn't it?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook stared at Loki as he rambled on. The longer the explanation went on, and the more detailed it became, the slower Fook's paws moved until he was still as a statue, his face one of horrified disbelief. "You are never cooking on this ship," he replied. "That's not cooking, dawg, that's meat murder."

Accepting the noodles, he resumed his work. The plastic-wrapped package was sliced open by one of his sharp claws, and its contents were unrolled before being dumped into the wok. Another hiss, more steam, but the Wah didn't react to it, simply stirring the big mess together with his cooking chopsticks. "Yeah, old family recipe. Had t'change some ingredients, because stuff we grow ain't common out here, but this is almost as good." The wok was turned, its contents flipped to mix everything further and evenly heat the noodles. "It's important to eat right in this line of work, feel me? If you're hungry, you ain't gonna perform, and if you eat some fast food shit, you'll be hunting more refreshers than bounties. Eat healthy, eat fresh when possible, and if you're gonna cook, cook big for a few meals so you can just reheat later."

Simply from the way the ingredients in his work moved under pressure from a chopstick, Fook knew his meal was done. Flicking the hob off, he transferred the wok to a cool burner and snatched up two bowls from a cabinet before using those huge chopsticks to load up proper portions for each of them, a good deal of food still remaining in the wok. "Have a seat, yo, food's up," he grinned, then kicked the switch to lower the kitchenette floor once more. The bowls were set on the table before Fook scurried back into the kitchen to snag two pairs of chopsticks, and two bottles of beer. Passing Loki his own across the table, Fook took his own seat, then bowed his head and folded his paws.

A moment of silence passed, then he looked up once more, flicking his chopsticks up into his paw. "Dig in, yo."

[Abarai Loki]

By the time they took their seats, Loki could practically taste the food on his tongue. The air was thick from a symphony of rich aromatic textures that were so vivid, he found himself transported by them. Where, exactly, he could not say. And, beautifully prepared, though it was, Loki had no time to admire the fine slivers of chopped vegetables, mixed like colourful gems amongst the snaking noodles. It was time to eat. He reached out, and accepted his... sticks?

"Ah," he said, turning them over in his hand, "I... hmm."

The burden of managing the sticks was halved, shared between hands. He wielded them like knives, and stabbed at a pink strip of nerf from either side, in a pincer movement, but the meat twisted and slipped free before it was an inch above the bowl. Undeterred, he upended a stick, and used the tip to spear a carrot. Without any further fuss, the carrot was deposited into Loki's mouth, and he melted with a muffled sigh of pleasure.

"Mmph. This is so good."

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook's own chopsticks paused just in front of his open mouth, laden with a large grab from his bowl, and he sat there staring at Loki's.. unorthodox method.

Blinking, he asked, "Dawg, what are you doing?"

[Abarai Loki]

By the time he was distracted him from his stabbing efforts, Loki had accumulated a small column of skewered peppers topped with a strip of browned nerf. The look of satisfaction fell from his face, however, when he spotted Li's mystified expression. Puzzled, he regarded his food, and wondered if there was something he had forgotten to do: his hands were clean, he was using his utensils, he was doing everything Li had done. Except...

"Oh," he said, understanding at last, "I do not pray before meals. Or after them, for that matter."

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook's own chopsticks remained still, holding their mouthful, and he continued to stare at Loki. His head ticked toward the ridiculous display of table manners regarding the proper use of chopsticks.

"That's up to you, dawg," he replied. "But I was talkin' about your chopsticks, yo. Whatever you're doing, there, that shit is whack, feel me? Like this, see?"

With that he nudged his own chopsticks open, allowing his loaded mouthful to fall back into his bowl before demonstrating proper grip and technique, snapping their tips together three or four times. "Grab and pinch, yo. Or are you gonna need a fork?"

Typical human, Fook thought. No clue about other cultures. Bet he only speaks Basic, too.

[Abarai Loki]

First, Loki studied Li's chopsticks, and the way he manipulated them, then, he considered his own dual-wielded sticks. His brow knitted, "That's interesting."

The offer of a fork was ignored outright; Loki was not one to so-easily concede defeat. He corrected his mistake, returning the wayward chopstick to its rightful hand, and watched as they knotted with each other, and tumbled between his fingers every single time he adjusted his grip. When one of the sticks clattered to the table, he paused to reconsider his approach and observe Li's technique. His right hand made a sort of claw, and his left positioned the chopsticks correctly: one clamped behind his thumb, the other secured between thumb and forefinger. There, he held them in place while he slowly worked at moving the top one up and down, like a mandible. This was process was repeated, over and over, until he became more confident and the sticks started to make a satisfying click whenever they met. He was ready.

First, a piece of nerf steak: it was soft, and full of sauce, and wobbled tenuously all the way to his mouth, but he got there in the end. His eyes closed as he chewed; never before had he tasted meat so flavoursome. It was strong, and tangy, and juicey. It was like a little piece of bliss had just melted on his tongue. Next, some peppers, then, the noodles. It seemed to take forever for them to disappear, wriggling into his mouth. The textures were as dynamic as the taste: tender meat, crunchy vegetables, and soft stringy endless noodles. It was one of the most enjoyable meals he'd ever eaten. After a few ravenous mouthfuls, he surfaced from behind his bowl long enough to speak.

"The food is delicious," he said, "If you ever tire of bounty hunting, I imagine you could have a career as one of those... Holonet chefs."

Their eyes met, and fortunately, Li's mouth was full, because Loki had no doubt he was about to object to the idea of him ever not bounty hunting. In no time at all, he was beginning to get a very clear picture who his mentor was; Li Ho Fook wasn't subtle, no, but nor did he seem deceptive or false. For better or worse, Loki expected the Li he knows now will be the Li he knows in a week, and there was some comfort to be had in that knowledge - the galaxy was far too often a chaotic place full of unpredictable people.

"Okay. Why bounty hunting?"

[Li Ho Fook]

The Wah enjoyed his meal at a more leisurely pace than his ravenous apprentice, careful to pluck just the right mix of vegetables, meat and noodle in each pinch of his chopsticks to deliver the complex flavors and textures in the most pleasing manner possible. It wasn't the best stir-fry he'd ever made, or even the best in the last few weeks, and it could use a bit of heat in the spices, but it was good enough, and sure beat a greasy bucket of KFN.

As the question was posed, Li brought his chopsticks together and placed them down on a small rest beside his bowl. Despite his brash appearance, and his ridiculous decor, Fook did appear to value etiquette and manners more than many in the galaxy did, and it was rude to converse directly while holding your utensils, he had been taught.

"Makes that paper, yo," he replied. When he could see Loki would require a translation, he straightened his posture and started over. "Life out here ain't free, feel me? Had to find something that could pay them bills, but don't tie a playa down. Thought I could be a trader, but dag, that shit is hella snooze, dawg. Travel holomags only hire humans to , so that was out, too. Wound up stuck on some cruise ship as a waiter for a bit, and that shit was whack, let me tell you. But it was taking me where I wanted to go, so I couldn't be complainin' too hard, see?"

Getting into the swing of things, Fook sat back into the plush purple bench seat, making himself more comfortable. "We was nearin' our port of call, when some sucka-ass fool starts makin' a ruckus, and this fight breaks out in the dining room. Rich old fucks screamin' and fat bitches fainting as this one dawg gets in this mad brawl with some homeboy, and they be tearin' shit up in the dining room, stun blasters being fired and everything, yo. So, homeboy bolts, and this big dawg runs after him, but he ain't fast, dig, so homeboy jets it. Me, I don't want no more mess to clean up, and them posh fucks is already cryin', so I think I need to stop homeboy and turn him over to ship security. I may be small compared to you, but dag, yo, I can be hella fast, feel me? I'm on homeboy before he knows it, and I kick his ass when he comes at me with a stunstick. By the time the other dawg catches up, I've got homeboy out cold, and I hogtied him with my apron.

"They fired me immediately for hittin' a passenger, but it turned out that was the best shit, because this dawg says he's a bounty hunter, and since I helped bag his collar, he was gonna cut me in on the bounty payout. On top of that, he said I was a natural, and I should look into his line of work. He gives me a lift from port to the bounty office, and we talks it over. Sounds like a good deal, get fat paper for baggin' scum, so I's in, see? Local stuff at first, banked that money until I could get a ship - not this one, but some hoopty runabout. Always got underestimated, which made it easy to surprise, yo. Parlayed that into full-time work. Get to make mad stacks, and see the galaxy as I please. Ain't no gig better, feel me? But what about you, homie? Why you want to be a hunter?"

With that he picked up his chopsticks again, signalling that it was Loki's turn for some explanation.

[Abarai Loki]

Once the story was over, Loki watched Li reclaim his chopsticks and resume eating. The peculiar display of etiquette had not gone unnoticed, and now he found himself conflicted between the option of showing respect to the stranger who had taken him under his wing, brought him aboard his ship, and cooked him a delicious meal, and the option of devouring that delicious meal. He gave his own chopsticks a look, then set them down neatly beside his bowl.

"I liked Jovan Station." It felt important that he started with that, "It was never dull. There was always something going on. My job was a little rote sometimes, but my employer looked after me. There were plenty of good people, interesting people. I even made some friends."

He paused, annoyed with himself and his choice of words. It made him sound like some sort of tragic social outcast. In many ways, he supposed, it was true: there were few people in the galaxy whom he could refer to as a friend, but he was getting better at collecting them. No, people made friends, he reminded himself. Choosing the correct words had never been a strength of his, and it went hand-in-hand with him not being everyone's best buddy. He'd never light up a story the way Li had just done, so he'd keep it short and simple. That way, there was less of a chance he would make a fool of himself, and it also meant he'd be back to his food sooner. He liked that plan.

"I became comfortable," he confessed, "I became... attached. And the whole reason I was at Jovan Station in the first place was because I wanted to get away, to see the galaxy, and to meet new people, and try new things. I'm not a... a homebody. I want to find..."

His gaze crept sideways to Li, with whom he was about to be far more candid than he was comfortable. He stopped himself, and altered course:

"I can handle myself in a fight. Maybe I don't look like it, but you don't need to worry. I will have your back, and I will follow your instruction. I want to become good at this: a bounty hunter does respectable work, he makes a difference, and he's free... and the paper's hella tight."

Just a fleeting glance at Li before he snatched up his chopsticks and buried his amusement beneath a mouthful of food.

[Li Ho Fook]

"I feel you there, homie," Fook grinned. The Wah nodded in respect to Wex's direct reply, and a shared motivation. His small bowl was nearly empty, and he expertly rounded up the last of his noodles and a piece of bell pepper with his chopsticks, wrangling them into one even pinch with no excessive dangle. "And, yeah, bounty hunters often do good, but not all jobs is pretty, feel me?" He popped the pinched wad of noodles into his mouth, chewing quickly before washing it down with a swig from his bottle of beer.

"Most bounties you'll take at first gon' be simple - at least that's what I recommend. Find yo'self some good-sized city, one with good transport, and cheap digs, yo, and work the fuzzbacks."

He could see Loki's pause at the word, and he smirked. "Them suckas what skipped out on parole, or broke their bail terms. Everyday crooks. Easy to find, easy to bag, only need a stunstick and sometimes a net launcher. Not big pay, but you can bank one every day back to the cops, and it adds up. From there you work your way up. Cheap ground speeder lets you work multiple precincts, or outlying towns. Roll that into a small ship with hyperdrive, you can work a solar system or two. Then it's up to you if you want to stay on the goodie-goodie side, or if you want to get your paws dirty, holmes."

The Wah leaned back in his seat, nursing his beer as he kept his eyes upon his apprentice. "Some hunters like keepin they nose clean, just workin' law'n'order shit, feel me? Nothin' wrong with that. But that fat cheddar? That shit's on the private contracts, and shit can get shady mad fast, dawg. You gots to arm up for that shit, because them homeboys you after ain't playin' around. Heavy hitters run the bill up, yeah, but they can also take you out if you ain't careful. But there's a step further you can go beyond that, if you dare."

[Abarai Loki]

The way Li spoke, it captured Loki's imagination, and he was able to visualise for himself what a career in bounty hunting would look like. He could see himself coordinating with local law enforcement, becoming familiar with all of the hotbeds of criminal activity, growing an inventory of tools and weapons to facilitate his work, sharpening his wits... Yes, indeed. He could earn for himself quite a reputation; his could be the name whispered on the name of every thief, mugger, and murderer in town. Abarai Loki. No. Igo Flax. Somehow, having that kind of prestige associated with a false identity lessened the appeal. But he was becoming prideful. Keep that in check.

Regardless of his warped priorities, one thing was certain: the seed had been planted in his mind now, it was taking root, and he wanted it to grow. He could be a bounty hunter. And, if what Li was telling him was anything to go by, there was yet a great deal for him to learn. He knew that bounty hunters worked against the same backdrop as criminals great, small, independent, and organised; there was little doubt in his mind that one couldn't rub shoulders with scum without getting a little dirty. But private contracts? That was news to him, and he supposed that was rather the point. A question - one of many - formed on his lips, but before he could give it breath, Li hit him with another tantalising revelation.

"You-" he swallowed, mouth dry from the prospect of an even greater challenge, "There are bounties more dangerous than private contracts?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Yeah, there is," Fook nodded slowly. "There's the kind that offers two ways to collect your paycheck, feel me? You can either walk them in, or bring 'em in a bag. When you see 'Dead or Alive' on your bounty sheet, you know you're gonna be in some shit, dawg. Alive often pays more, but dag, yo, it's also often not worth it. Then there's the straight-up dead option. You want that bounty? You gotta kill your target and bring back proof. I don't like those, dawg. Makes enemies out of playas you don't even know. But damn, that paper can be hella dope."

Sipping from his beer, he studied Loki more intensely, as if weighing him visually. "You think you could do that, homie? You think you could straight ice someone? Once you do, there ain't no takin' it back. Shit changes you, and not everyone can handle it. Think long and hard about that before you take one of them jobs. A takedown is way different than killin' in self-defense."

[Abarai Loki]

As Li spoke, carefully negotiating an ethical minefield with his words, Loki became aware of something in himself that he'd almost forgotten about. The mention of killing was met at once with a wall of cold indifference that was both alien to him and, at the same time, an intrinsic part of who he was, of who he'd always been. It was instinctive, ingrained into him as a child, and, even after all these years, it was still there, waiting, ready to float to the surface of his icy thoughts. And, in an instant, he was reminded of why he'd left Ossus, and his old life with the Jedi, far behind.

"I could kill in self-defence." He could kill in almost any situation, "Killing for credits seems gratuitous, and messy. No-one needs that kind of money."

Whereupon, he turned his gaze on Li, wondering if that was a sentiment his bounty hunting mentor shared. It was plainly apparent that Li Ho Fook enjoyed having mountains of disposable income, but was he so greedy that he killed for his plush carpets and preposterous paint jobs? Perhaps that was the difference between them: Loki took his first life when he was 11 years old, and he'd taken many more since, with his lightsaber, with a blaster, with the canons of a starship. He'd killed nameless faceless men and women in the name of duty and honour, and he'd watched the light leave the eyes of close ones, too. It was all the same to him: he took no pleasure in the act of killing, it was just a means to an end. He'd never kill for something as common as credits.

"I daresay my aspirations aren't quite so lofty, Li. I enjoy simple things: good work, good company, good food... and drink."

With that, he took his first swig of beer. It was cold, crisp, and refreshing, but the flavour... he couldn't quite place it. It tasted like all kinds of things. He frowned in consideration, hesitated, and quaffed another mouthful before setting his bottle down again.

[Li Ho Fook]

The words fell upon Fook's fuzzy ears with a refreshing honesty. He lifted his bottle in a salute before taking another drink himself.

"Good. Glad to hear that, dawg," he nodded. "Too many get into this business thinkin' they's all hard and that the law don't apply to them. They's out to show they's got the biggest cock or somethin' by bein' reckless and violent. Well fuck that noise, homie. Them clowns don't ever last, feel me? You in this for power, fame, or respect from intimidation, dawg you playin' the wrong game."

Another swig and he slipped down off his seat to stand before the table. "Yeah, I live large, I'm balla, I'm ever'thang young bloods dream of bein', but I paid my dues. You won't get to this level for at least, four, maybe five years, and that's if you play shit smart and all goes floss for ya, Flax-dawg. So don't even think about comparin' your first few solo hunts to what we do. You focus on you, you do what's right, not what makes you flash, and you'll be flash, feel me?" He looked at Loki with an honest smile, and continued. "You're smart, for a human. If you said you could pull that trigger for some mad payday, we'd be done after this job, you and me. Bounty hunters ain't assassins. The only time I'd take a death-only job is if'n I know damn skippy that takin' that sucka out would save the lives of others. You really in this for good work, drink, and company, then you ain't never gonna hurt for no jobs, you'll sip the best hooch, and them bitches will be all over you, dawg."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki smiled broadly, in spite of himself. The last time he'd heard women referred to as 'bitches' was in a holo-movie, the sort that was best watched in private. There was something amusing about hearing that kind of language bleed into into a regular conversation, it was surreal, and it also made him think about the kind of company Li enjoyed when he wasn't babysitting rookies. The smile persisted as he pictured him surrounded by a harem of busty babes, and, to his further amusement, he found it didn't seem that unbelievable. For someone a fraction of his size, Li Ho Fook had enough confidence and swagger for ten of him.

And now, they'd reached the good stuff:

"So... girls like it, then?" He said, with a telling curl at the corner of his mouth. And, even though it was just the two of them, his tone lowered a fraction, "When you tell them you're a bounty hunter, I mean. They don't think you're lowlife scum or an untrustworthy scoundrel or... or some crazy violent outlaw?

[Li Ho Fook]

"THE GRANDMASTER ENTERTAINS LADIES MOST FREQUENTLY!" The voice of Guan Yu boomed through the onboard stereo system. "IN FACT, JUST OVER A WEEK AGO HE HAD THESE THREE LOV-"

"Yo, G-Dawg," Fook interrupted. "What I tell you about braggin' homie? Real playas don't gotta say that shit, they just live it, yo." His head had been canted back to the large holovision screen to face Guan Yu's sudden appearance, even though the ship's AI system hardly required eye contact.

"OH! TERRIBLY SORRY! BAD FORM AND ALL THAT, WOT! SHUTTING UP, NOW!"

Shaking his head, Fook chuckled and returned his attention to his apprentice. "Some shortys like it, yeah," he chuckled. "Maybe not at first, but when you've got yourself built up a bit, establish a rappor, dig? Then trust me, you'll get all the action you ever wanted, dawg."

There was no fighting the smirk which played up his muzzle, making the pint-size bounty hunter look even more cute and cuddly than he naturally did. "That is, if you're old enough for it. I got that suspicion you'd flash a fake ID if you ordered that beer at a bar, feel me? Good thing hyperspace don't have a drinking age." With a wink, he tipped his own beer up to knock back the rest of its contents.

[Abarai Loki]

"I can drink," Loki said, with a nonchalance that was a little too perfect. It was true, to an extent: he'd drank before, even though it had been a rather limited quantity of alcohol. Whether or not he could hold his liquor was another matter entirely, but he liked the prospect of one day being able to test his limits. Life was nothing if not a series of challenges to be overcome. Then again, on Jovan Station, he'd seen first hand what became of men who favoured the bottle. Shrugging off the thought, he reached out and helped himself to another swig before Li had second thoughts.

Being sixteen sucked. There was nothing he felt too young to have and to do, anymore, but it seemed the galaxy had different ideas. It was fortunate that he at least looked old enough to lie about his age. Not that everyone was fooled, of course. In his mind, and in his body - especially in his body - he was ready for new experiences, but that door was only ever ajar. He wanted the kind of freedom Li had, to walk his own path, with no-one to question him along the way. Three at once, he recalled in renewed bewilderment. No wonder he called himself the Grandmaster.

"So..." It was time to change the subject. Loki gestured with his bottle to different parts of the ship, and then finally, to Li himself, "You have the arsenal, you have the technology, you've got the ship, and you've got... the clothes. Where's your badass armour?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Yo, G, do the honors," Fook announced before tossing his empty bottle back over his shoulder. Guan Yu's mechanical arm snapped out from the wall to catch it mid-air before depositing it in the recycle bin.

"Badass armor, huh?" One of the Wah's little white eyebrows perked, followed by a smile. "Best kind of armor is the one your enemy can't see, yo," he replied. "You strap on plasteel, or duraplast, or whatever, all that tells some sucka is that you shouldn't be shot in that spot. Full-body armor weighs too much, too conspicuous, no maneuverability. Makes you a big, durable target. That's why I rock one of these, yo."

His left paw slipped down to pull back his open overshirt, revealing a slimline personal shield generator attached to his belt. On both sides of it were handheld blaster energy cells, though the top of one didn't look quite right. If one knew what they were looking at, they'd say it looked like a lightsaber blade emitter.

[Abarai Loki]

First, his eyes followed Li's hands to the personal shield generator. He was fascinated, having never actually seen one in use before: furnishing entire armies with such devices would be expensive and impractical. It was difficult to believe that something so small could repel anything for any length of time, but then, as he understood it, that was exactly how they worked. Personal shield generators could absorb a shot or two before they overloaded, and required a moment to recharge, but, for anyone quick on their feet, that was more than ample warning to find cover. And, if what he said was to be believed, Li was indeed quick on his feet. Loki could believe it to, considering his reflexes and coordination when he was dicing vegetables like a living breathing food processor.

Secondly, his gaze drifted to the strange energy cells, also strapped to his belt. His eyebrows leapt in surprise.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing at one of them, "It looks like a... strange-looking blaster."

A lightsaber. It was a lightsaber. Why in the galaxy did this miniature bounty hunter possess a Jedi weapon. A chilling thought shook Loki to the core: perhaps tit was a trophy. Was he in the presence of an actual Jedi hunter? He swept a glance around the interior, once more, drinking in every gaudy extravagance. His face hardened.

"Li, where did you get that?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook faltered for a moment. His personal shield generator was supposed to be the show-stopper, and yet the human had only briefly considered it before moving on to something vastly more mundane. His left paw slid in to take hold of the device, and he lifted it for better display.

The saber was definitely housed within a pistol energy cell, scarcely more than five inches long, and yet Fook held it like it was just some random thing. "I built it, dawg," he scoffed. "Well, actually that ain't exactly true, he then admitted.

His right paw reached for the other side of his belt from which he withdrew the compact saber's identical twin. "I built two. Bought plans off the holonet, and parts at some scrap dealers. Crystal was like mad cray to find, but you build up contacts in this business, dig? Don't get much use, but when you need one, lightsaber's a mad sick tool, yo."

With that he took a half-step back and ignited both sabers simultaneously. Short, yellow blades shot forth from the emitters, their hum higher than normal due to the compressed field limiting each blade to approximately eighteen inches. A couple light wiggles of the wrist was all the display Fook felt necessary before deactivating the lethal blades once more.

[Abarai Loki]

"Tool?" Loki repeated, the tone of his voice questioned Li's sanity, "A... a tool?"

With an incredulous snort of laughter, Loki went for a walk. It was only a brief walk, no more than a few steps that took him in a circle back to where he started, but it was enough to walk off the waves of light-headedness invoked by the little Wah's ignorance. He gestured with open hands at the weapons, as if he could bath them anew in some sort of celestial light of comprehension.

"Li, these are lightsabers!" He pleaded, through his disbelief, "The lightsaber is the weapon of the Jedi Knight. A symbol of peace and justice throughout the galaxy!"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Well, maybe if there was more of those motherfuckers around, I wouldn't have to do this job," Fook snorted. "But dawg, them Jedi is more scarce than a shaved wookiee, feel me?" The sabers were simultaneously clipped back to his belt, his open shirt falling back in place to cover them.

"This galaxy ain't what it once was, fam. There ain't no magical space ninjas anymore to solve everyone's problems, so we gots to solve our own. I do good for this galaxy, dig? And if you keep on the right track, so can you."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki stared for a moment, stunned. Li's rebuke had washed over him like ice water, waking him from his romantic daydream. His words drew to mind a conversation he had with Cirrsseeto Quez, who had expressed his frustration in the Jedi's notable absence from the galactic stage. The way he'd spoken back then, with such hope, and conviction, and, more importantly, faith that Loki and the rest of the Jedi could be a force for positive change in the galaxy, to inspire people to good deeds and to not lose heart - he remembered it all like it was yesterday. But, in truth, it had been a long time since he'd last seen his old friend. Too long. He found himself wondering what Cirr would think if he saw him now; how disappointed he'd be that he had not became the Jedi he always wanted him to be.

"You're right," he said, at last. "They're only laser swords."

He returned to his beer, took a sip, then suddenly stood.

"Do you have a 'fresher?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Plasma swords," Fook corrected him. "Not lasers. Ain't no lasers in this shit, that's a misnomer. It's an energized plasma flux which superheats the emitted mass inside a magnetically-enclosed bottle and loops the plasma feed back onto itself so it can cycle through the khyber crystal, maintaining flow and regulating heat dispersion."

He stood for a moment, then blinked. "Yeah, dawg, it's through that door. Just put the seat down and flush when you're done, feel me?"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki managed a small smile. Between having lightsaber technology explained to him and being instructed on how to correctly use the refresher, he saw the funny side of it all. He gave the Wah a nod.

"I think I can handle it, Li. But I'll call if I need any help."

So he followed his direction to a smartly panelled door that slid aside with a pleasant woosh, as opposed to the heavy industrial din of regular doors. He stepped inside and found himself in a small cubicle with tiled walls, and a strangely-textured floor. To his pleasant surprise, he found that the only thing against the backdrop of clean white that hinted at Li's unique style were the gold-plated fixtures. Upon discovering the refresher bowl, Loki found himself suddenly grateful that he didn't need to sit. No more was it abundantly clear that the 36th Chamber had originally been a Squib vessel than in the sight of the refresher that scarcely reached his knees.

While he pissed, he took a moment to reflect on the things Li had said about the Jedi, and the things regular people like himself did to keep the peace in their absence. Of course, there was nothing truly regular about Li Ho Fook, with his lightsabers and his unnatural reflexes; he was probably closer to being a Jedi Knight than he realised. Something told him the comparison would be an unwelcome one. The gloom was setting in again. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time the Jedi did more to protect the galaxy - it wasn't as if they weren't a part of it, after all. But then, that was none of his business anymore. And it wouldn't do for him to fret over things he couldn't change. How did Li phrase it, again? Focus on you... do what's right... and you'll be flash.

Loki snorted in private amusement, "Flash..."

His business done, he returned the seat to its original position and hit the large golden flush button on the wall beside him.

"AHH!!"

The cry rang out clearly from inside the refresher. There was a sudden rumble, like the sound of a ferocious scuffling, a pronounced squeak of wet boot leather, followed by a loud thud, and a long eerie silence. Moments later, the refresher door opened with its pleasant wooshing sound, and Loki reappeared, drenched from head to toe where he stood. The renewed silence was punctuated with the steady drip of water. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I don't suppose you have a dry shirt, do you?"

[Li Ho Fook]

While Loki was busy relieving himself, Fook set about clearing the table and packing up leftovers. At the sudden cry from the combination reresher/sonic shower/water shower cubicle, his ears perked and he turned from the sink. "You shittin' me, dawg?" he muttered to himself. There was no way he was going to help some human kid in the 'fresher.

And then the door opened. Fook paused where he stood on his elevated kitchen floor platform, one paw holding a bowl in the sink as the other grasped a scrubby sponge, and he stared at the dripping, pathetic mess standing before him.

"Yeah, because it'd totally fit you, right?" he answered, his voice so flat you could bounce quarters off it and call it an army bed.

Beady black eyes rolling, he dropped his dish and sponge back into the sink and stepped down off the platform. "Just... stay in there, dawg, I'll get you some towels. Don't drip on my carpet, dig?" As he sighed and crossed the living quarters to a storage closet, he muttered, "Sucka-ass humans. I just wash my paws after takin' a leak, but this window-licker washes his whole damn self. Fool needs a check-up from the neck-up, num'sayin?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I can hear you, you know."

Stood helpless in the doorway, Loki retreated a step to ensure he didn't drip on Li's fancy carpet. With every drip, he could feel his initial crippling sheepishness crumble before the frothing tides of his annoyance. All he wanted to do was take a piss, and instead he ended up pissed off. The sodden shirt was ripped off, sucking and squelching all the way. It was cast to the tiled floor with a wet slap. Fook was upon him with the towels by then, staring at him like he some fresh roadkill carcass.

"I was trying to flush the blasted toilet!" he blurted suddenly, raking a towel over his hair, "How in the seven hells was I supposed to know you like to take a shower while you take a dump?"

[Li Ho Fook]

The towels Fook provided where soft, fluffy, and ultra-absorbent - a requirement for any furred species - and initially he could not fully see over them until Loki had taken them out of his arms.

"36th Chamber's a small ship, dawg," Fook grunted. "That's a combination refresher/shower, yo. Saves space. Flush is the button on the floor there, just gotta step on it."

It was only then that he looked back up to see a bare-chested human covered in scars. Black eyes widened and his ears went out sideways. "Dag, yo, what happened to you, dawg?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Flush on the floor?" Loki said, absently, inspecting the cubicle behind him, "Oh."

Li was looking at him in a way that he recognised. It was the look most people gave him the first time they saw him without a shirt: shocked, repulsed, and, in some cases, a little concerned. His entire upper torso was covered in scars, fine, innumerable scars that criss-crossed like the map of some convoluted maglev network. Each scar was identical in appearance - neat, thin, and straight - as if the bacta treatment had been deliberately stopped at the last moment. The heaviest concentration was on his chest and back, though there were many on his shoulders, belly, and upper arms, and even one or two visible on his forearms. It was grisly sight to behold, he conceded. And, to think, he used to be proud of them.

"An old accident," he said, dusting off the last droplets from his hair. He used the time to stall, while he attempted to recall the story he fabricated for Madame Maillanaarro when she first inspected him for the teahouse job. He figured there was no harm in running with the Torque story again, so he proceeded, "My mother was a factory worker. We couldn't afford a nanny or anything like that, so she brought me to work. One day, there was an explosion, and all sorts of panic. So I decided to hide under one of the machines."

A dramatic pause - he'd practiced this - it looked like Li knew what was coming next, which meant he was doing a good job. He shrugged, "I don't remember much. There was another loud bang, and I woke up in hospital a week later."

[Li Ho Fook]

As Loki rambled on, Fook just nodded slowly, though his eyes pinged from one scar to the next. The scars were old, but uniform. Too uniform, and some were certainly older than others.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded. "Sounds like some real shit, dawg. You, uh, keep dryin' up, I'll grab your bag, homie."

No further explanation was needed, and Loki's bag was fetched from its place near the entry before dumping it at Loki's feet. "When you're changed, just chuck yo wet threads in the washer under the hob, there," he jerked his thumb back toward the kitchenette. "Shit's got a dryer setting, too. I'm'a get back to the table, there, because you in your drawers is not somethin' I need to see, homie."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki gave a nod, robbed of the capacity to speak by the sheer awkwardness of the situation. Li seemed like a decent person, but they barely knew each other, and, already, he'd made a complete fool of himself in front of him. As he wrestled free of his remaining clothes, the slurping and squelching became more obnoxious. Where was Guan Yu and his thunderous voice when you needed him?

In painful silence, he buffed himself dry, and rummaged in his bag for the only change of clothes he owned. A few minutes later, he stepped out of the refresher in an olive green bomber jacket, a white shirt, and sand-coloured cargo pants. His used towels and freshly-drained clothes were carried in an unceremonious pile across to the washer-drier unit, and stuffed inside. It didn't take long for him to figure out the settings, and once it hummed to life, he rejoined Li at the table.

After a beat of silence, he reached out for his beer, and he drank, and drank, and drank. The empty bottle was deposited on the table with a soft clink. Another beat of silence, then:

"I'm sorry about that."

[Li Ho Fook]

The massive holovision screen displayed images of Lothal, city centers, factories both operative and decommissioned, along with text information as Fook flicked through it all via a touchscreen remote. A simple casual nod was given as Loki returned to the table, followed by a chuckle as the young man tipped back the second half of his beer.

"Ain't nothin' to be sorry about, Iggy," the Wah shrugged. "Honest mistake, and hella funny at that." It was then that his smile broke through, and the fuzzy little bounty hunter allowed himself to throw his head back and laugh and laugh and laaaaaaugh.

Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as the laughter subsided, Fook, grinned and shook his head. "Dawg, you was all in there lookin' like some wet puppy, confused and miserable and shit. Fuck, yo, it was all I could do to keep from crackin' up mad fierce! And now you come out here dressed like you auditioning for some old-timey musical war movie pilot role? Dag, son, we have got to get you some new threads after this, feel me?"

His attention returned to the screen, and he resumed scanning through location data, even though it wasn't the location that Athena was thought to be in. "Bein' a bounty hunter ain't all runnin' 'round with your stunstick and net gun, yo. 'Specially on big jobs. Gots to research, know what you're goin' into, dawg. Our target is supposed to be in some old factory, but we ain't got layouts of it, or true deets on its plans, so we look at other facilities built around the same time, by the same or similar companies. Designing a factory costs mad paper, so if you're making more than one, you use the same or similar designs, dig? This might be our most likely candidate for similar layout."

The screen changed to a wireframe design schematic for a large factory of Imperial design. Fook went through and selected a few options to highlight windows, doors, and any other openings. "If you was some hella whack droid bitch, and you had an army, where would you hold up in here, Flax-dawg?" He asked, passing the remote to Loki.

[Abarai Loki]

The sudden outburst of laughter took Loki by surprise. He watched Li rock gleefully in his seat, mystified at first, then there was relief. When it became apparent the shower incident hadn't cost him the confidence of his bounty hunting mentor, Loki allowed for a small sheepish smile. He wasn't too proud to humour a laugh at his own expense. Not anymore, at least. And it was all fun and games until Li took shots at his clothing. In confusion, he inspected himself, half-expecting to find his pants on inside-out or something. But no, there they were, cool and functional, and his jacket was the best article of civvy clothing he owned. And a white t-shirt? You can't go wrong with a white t-shirt!

Still, he kept his objections to himself. It was worth it just to see the little Wah lose it, like he had. Then they moved onto the good stuff. He listened intently to what Li had to say, impressed with the application of solid logic and resourcefulness. Seeing the blueprints for the factory where they may potentially clash with fanatical suicide droids had suddenly made it all the more real. He took the offered remote, and worked his fingers at it in silence for a moment, spinning the display, adjusting angles, zooming in, until...

"There," he said, "The main generator. Droids need power, and that's the largest source of it. That, and it's sheltered underground, beneath three feet of duracrete."

His gaze was turned, with some expectation, on to Li.

[Li Ho Fook]

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," Fook nodded. "But our target ain't gonna hide out in there; it's underground with only one way in or out. If this robo-bitch is what she's cracked up to be, she ain't gonna hole up in no dead end, feel me?"

Taking the remote back, is pawpads quietly whisked across its surface, leading to the office section of the factory complex. "Crazy-ass savior-complex leaders like to oversee, literally," he explained. "She'll want to be able to see her followers, and have them look up to her. These overlook the production floor, where I'm guessing the heavies are gonna be. Also a shitload of ways out, which means we're gonna be fucked tryin' to cover them all. What we need is to bring her to us."

The map spun and moved as Fook took virtual trips down hallways, winding up at the bunker-like generator room again. "But you got it on the power, dawg. These boltbags took a factory for a reason, and power checks out. Can't cut it from outside, it's like some old fortress having a well inside its walls. Droids gotta charge, but I think we gon' find something else in there, too. Something important enough to bring her shiny metal ass out of hiding."

Fingers tapped and information came up on-screen about the dimensions of the generator room, its structure, and how much power the generators were rated to produce. "Yo, G-Dawg, get crunchy on them numbers for what it'd take to punch through this shit. Compare against the arsenal to see if it could be done using a medium to heavy loadout spread across me and one average human. And use your library voice, G, Grandmasta's got to think."

He raised a black-furred paw to cup his white-tipped muzzle, and tapped a fingerpad against his cheek as he pondered the images on the screen. "If you was some psycho robo-messiah, what would think to be so precious you'd put it in a vault?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Back-ups," Loki answered immediately, "If this Athena droid has a means to upload the memory banks of its slain soldiers, there has to be a server where all that data is stored."

He was thinking more like a droid engineer, than a bounty hunter. But then, that's what Li was for. Their coming together had indeed been fortuitous: a bounty hunter and a droid engineer, joining forces to apprehend the leader of an army of renegade droids. It had all the makings of destiny, if one were inclined to indulge such a thing. Loki was not the superstitious sort, and, if the Force did indeed have a will of its own, then it undoubtedly had a taste for the absurd, judging by his own sordid history of misadventures. Perhaps, this was the one time where it would put him in good stead.

"Or, if the servers are kept off-site, then, perhaps, a transmitter? The key to electronic reincarnation itself," he finished, with a nod. Admittedly, he was rather pleased with himself.

[Li Ho Fook]

"Dag, that's good," Fook nodded. "I was like, thinkin'... I dunno, credits and stuff? Do droids even use credits? Transmitter's a good call. Steeltits here would probably keep them backups mobile."

It was a bit of a ramble, but it got where it needed to go at the end and that was what mattered.

"I THINK IGO FLAX IS RIGHT," Guan Yu butted in. "A TRANSMITTER WOULD BE MOST LIKELY. THEY WOULD NEED A LOT OF POWER TO BROADCAST THROUGH THAT SHELL, AND IT COULD CONNECT WITH ALL THE DROIDS IN THE AREA AS WELL, ACTING AS A SORT OF NEURAL NET. YOU HAVE ENOUGH EXPLOSIVES ON-HAND TO CRACK THROUGH THE VAULT AND DESTROY IT, BUT IT WOULD NOT BE COST-EFFECTIVE. MIGHT I RECOMMEND USING THE SHIP TO BLAST THROUGH WITH CANNONS AND TORPEDOES? I COULD ORGANIZE THE LOVELIEST FULL-FRONTAL ASSAULT, IT WOULD BE EVER SO MUCH FUN!"

"Yeah, we might hit the target doing that, though," Fook shook his head, then paused. "...how ill would that price tag be?"

"YOU WOULD EXPEND FOUR THOUSAND CREDITS IN THERMAL DETONATORS AND HEAVY IMPACT EXPLOSIVES, AFTER A THOUSAND CREDITS WORTH OF DIRECTED ACID EXPLOSIVES TO LAY A DIRECTIONAL TRENCH," Guan Yu boomed. On the screen a rendering of the pattern of explosives was displayed, and from appearances Fook was unconvinced.

"YOU WOULD ALSO BE EXPENDING YOUR ENTIRE SUPPLY OF DEMOLITIONS TO FORCE ENTRY ANYWHERE BUT THE MAIN DOORS, REDUCING YOUR CARRYING CAPACITY TO A HEAVY RIFLE AND TWO PISTOLS."

"Well, fuck that shit," Fook smacked his paw on the tabletop. "You think you can line up them shots, G-Dawg? Homeboy and I can wear tracking tags so you know not to light that shit up while we're present."

"OH, I WOULD ADVISE AGAINST THAT, SIR. WE DO NOT KNOW THE KINDS OF DROIDS THIS ATHENA BEAUTY HAS CHARMED INTO HER SERVICE. SOME MAY BE ABLE TO CONNECT TO YOUR TRACKING SIGNALS, LIGHTING YOU UP LIKE A LIFE DAY TREE ON ALL THEIR SENSORS."

"Dag," Fook admitted, biting his lip. "That would be whack."

"MAD WHACK, SIR, INDEED. IF WE STILL HAD ONE OF THOSE LITTLE DRONES, I COULD DOWNLOAD A COPY OF MYSELF TO IT AND COME WITH YOU, BUT WE HAVEN'T FOUND ONE OF THOSE FOR SALE IN MONTHS. PITY, IT WAS SO NICE TO GET OUT AND STRETCH MY LEGS, AS IT WERE."

"Them drones was hella cost, yo," Fook cautioned his ship's AI. "We're gon' have to throw up some kind of sign to ya when we's clear, and so's the target. Still got them smoke grenades, right?"

"OH YES!" One could feel the broad smile in Guan Yu's voice. "A MOST CHARMING ARRAY OF COLORS, TOO! BLUE, ORANGE, PURPLE, BUT I'D RECOMMEND THE FUCHSIA. IT WOULD BE A CHARMING ACCENT AGAINST THE MUDDIED TONES OF THE SURROUNDINGS, ADDING A DELIGHTFUL BIT OF CHEER!"

"Dawg, fuchsia is pink, yo. Pink. Grandmasta don't throw no fuckin' pink, outside of his shirts, feel me? Naw, we goin' orange, G. Now, limited demolitions in our loadout, what's the best firearms to use against droids?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Ion blasters," Loki said, surfacing from his thoughts, "Or rifles, or grenades, for that matter. They will disable anything that has an electrical system, without needing to pierce metal."

It was good to be useful, again. Back when he was repairing droids for Anauri, he'd certainly been of use, but it was, admittedly, a job a million other people could do, and probably better. And, while his time at the teahouse had equipped him with new skills, unveiling an unexpected new talent in the process, the only real job satisfaction he'd experienced came later, once he was done feeling up his naked clients and could enjoy some alone time. But this? This was what he was born to do. Already, he could feel it, the electric thrill of action, teasing hairs to stand on end. It was the calm before the storm; the place where cold logic and explosive violence met.

"And there is another way for Guan Yu to join us." The talk of drones had rang a bell, and, slowly, its distant toll had climbed all the way into the lofty chambers of his mind, where it resounded in full song, "If we download his operating system onto some portable hardware, I can build a bug that will allow him to override the neural network of one of Athena's droids, and take control of it."

A smile, then.

"Perhaps I should have mentioned I'm also a class 3 droid mechanic. I know my way around a positronic brain."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Dag, yo, you gots to put that shit on your CV, dawg!" Fook threw a sideways look at his apprentice. "Any other mad skills you keepin' secret?"

"MR. FOOK IS A TENTH LEVEL MASTER OF HO FAN KUNG FU!" Guan Yu butted in. He loved helping. Even when it wasn't really helping.

The Wah shifted his eyes back to the screen. "Dawg, you don't go volunteering shit about your homies like that, yo," Fook admonished his ship's AI. "That's personal, feel me?"

On the holovision, Guan Yu appeared honestly taken aback, and he wrung his digital hands as he nodded. "TERRIBLY SORRY, SIR. I THOUGHT I WAS CONTRIBUTING TO THE DIALOGUE. DO GO ON."

Fook turned back to Loki, then issued a quick warning glance to Guan Yu as the face on the holovision opened its mouth once more, only to close it again sheepishly. "Like I was saying," Fook continued. "You gots skills we can bank on, you gots to let a playa know, dawg. Got this drone once and we copied G-Dawg into it, but it was like, five large, yo, and had to be programmed here. You serious, we could, like, do a transplant into an existing droid?"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki gave nod, "I've done it before with a medical droid and a protocol droid. A brain transplant, so to speak. The AA-1 VerboBrain is a complex piece of hardware. Uploading Guan Yu into one of Athena's drones won't be a problem. The question will be whether or not Guan Yu's software will be able to interface with the droid's systems."

In light of the recent tension, Loki remained decidedly on task, and did his best to pretend he hadn't noticed the glances Li had shot at his chatterbox computer. From what he could make outl, it seemed Li was an accomplished master of something called Kung Fu. If his instincts served well, Loki imagined it was some sort of combat style, perhaps native to his homeworld. To think: a planet of fighting teddy bears. The grin that threatened to surface was beaten into submission, lest he suffer the same ill-humoured glare as Guan Yu.

"We should pick our target with care. I expect this Athena has packed some heavy artillery amongst her ranks. With the right droid at our disposal, we will have the advantage of surprise and firepower."

Still on task, Loki struggled to keep Li's words from niggling at him, like a scab on his conscience, desperate to be scratched. Some skills were best kept secret. Li Ho Fook was a bounty hunter, he reminded himself, and he was a... well, whatever he thought he was, he would not be cashed in for a paycheck.

"What do you think?"

[Li Ho Fook]

The same worried look appeared on both Fook and Guan Yu as they looked at each other, both pondering the same question. It was Fook who brought it to voice, first, much to the relief of Loki's eardrums.

"Um, is that compatibility shit something you could tell by looking at G-Dawg's codes?" he asked. The hesitance in his voice was mirror's by Guan Yu's hand-wringing onscreen. "See, um, Guan Yu is like, lots of different programs, not just one. He started out as this hella badass targeting system, and I added him to the basic ship UI on the 36th Chamber, then kinda... kept giving him new programs so he could do more."

"YES, THAT IS AN ACCURATE SUMMATION," Guan Yu nodded. "MASTER FOOK HAS BEEN EVER SO KIND TO ME, ALWAYS PICKING UP NEW INTERFACE CONTROLS OR PROGRAM PACKAGES. IT ALLOWS ME TO DO SO MANY WONDERFUL THINGS. HE EVEN GETS ME GAMES, FROM TIME TO TIME. HAVE YOU EVER PLAYED SUKIYAKI HIGH SCHOOL: PROM DREAM? IT IS MOST STIMULATING! IT TOOK ME WEEKS TO GET FUJIKO TO OUT WITH ME, BUT WHEN SHE DID SHE SHOW-"

"Dawg!" Fook cut him off abruptly. "How many times I gotta tell you, homie? Playa don't kiss and tell, feel me? I mean, dag, homegirl had some hella fine tits, but braggin' you saw them is low class, dawg."

Turning his attention back to Loki, the Wah squared his shoulders to reset him both physically and mentally back into the relevant matter at hand. "I think your idea is hella tight, and more guns on the ground would be serious advantage. But I don't know if G-Dawg can do what you need him to. Is it something you could tell if I let you look at his code? Like, make a copy of it for you?"

"A COPY WOULD BE MOST PREFERABLE," Guan Yu added with a nod. "I AM ABOUT TO START MAKING DESSERT, AFTER ALL, AND ANY POKING AROUND IN ACTIVE SYSTEMS COULD RESULT IN A CULINARY SHAMBLES."

Ears perking up, Fook smiled to Loki. "Aw yeah, dawg. G here makes a bomb-ass chocolate souffle."

[Abarai Loki]

"The sooner I can take a look at that code, the better."

Loki did his best to appear cool, calm, and confident, but inside, a battle was being fought, to fend off the litany of nagging doubts that weighed heavily on his mind. If Guan Yu's programming was half as convoluted as Li suggested, then he had his work cut out for him, and then some. It was all he could do to stop himself from picturing his failure, and the look of disappointment on both Li and Guan Yu's faces. The veteran bounty hunter and the artificial intelligence who could do... anything; he had to earn his place on the team, somehow, and this was it. Hells, he couldn't even cook!

"What's... a soufflé?"

It wasn't the first question on his mind, no. What he really wanted to know about was what happened on Guan Yu's virtual date with Fujiko with the hella fine tits. Even unuttered, inside his one-track mind, it sounded desperate and depraved, but then, what was he, Abarai Loki, if not desperate and depraved? This was where the old discipline kicked in - the self-control - to keep himself from coming across like some sort of pervert in front of his new... teammates. That was the word. Teammates.

[Li Ho Fook]

Both Fook and Guan Yu bore the same expression of ecstatic surprise in response to Loki's question.

"OH, MAY I?" Guan Yu asked, his avatar bouncing with excitement onscreen.

Fook nodded, "You gots the mic, G-Dawg."

Guan Yu's big, meaty hands clapped together in rapid, close-held pats as he beamed a winning smile at Loki. "A SOUFFLE IS A VERY TRICKY DISH TO MAKE. IT IS A DESSERT MADE FROM EGG YOLKS, EGG WHITES, SUGAR, AND WHATEVER FLAVORING YOU WOULD LIKE, BAKED IN THESE DARLING LITTLE RAMEKINS UNTIL THE CONTENTS RIIIISE UP LIKE A SOARING TOWER BEYOND THE RIM! THE TEXTURE IS LIGHT AND FLUFFY, WHILE A CAKE-LIKE EXTERIOR HIDES A DEVILISHLY MOIST, ALMOST PUDDINGLIKE INTERIOR! YOU EAT IT WITH A SPOON!"

"Not really a recipe from home, dawg, but dag, they're mad tasty, feel me?" Fook added on. "Yo, G, you wanna get the jump on that backup, so we can have Iggy here lay his peeps on your code?"

"I AM AFRAID THAT IS A PROCESS I CANNOT INITIATE, SIR," the AI replied. "THIS SHIP'S ARCHITECTURE POSSESSES A BLOCK WHICH MAKES FULL SYSTEM BACKUP GO THROUGH A MANUAL PROCESS. ONE WOULD PRESUME IT WAS SO THAT ONE SQUIB COULDN'T STEAL A COPY OF ANOTHER SQUIB'S AI CODING. I SHALL ILLUMINATE THE SWITCH YOU NEED TO PRESS IN THE COCKPIT."

"Oh," Fook answered. "Shit, yo, I never knew that." Hopping on down from his seat, the Wah smoothed out his shirt before taking a brisk walk into the cockpit. A click could be heard, followed by a progress bar appearing on the holovision screen. As Fook returned, the mechanical arm reappeared in the kitchenette, accompanied by another which folded down from the ceiling, and Guan Yu got to work on dessert.

"So, while G-Dawg does that, let's take a look at the armory again, homie," Fook nodded to Loki in passing. He unlocked the weapons cabinet again, swinging the doors wide. "I think I only got one ion rifle; don't hardly ever need it, but it's gonna be hella clutch on this job. You the droid expert, what else here you think would be good against them tin cans?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Blasters are typically weak against their metal bodies. Slugthrowers are better: that way, you can get inside and really do some damage. Lightning canons make short work of droids, too. Frag nades. Hells, cryo nades, if you have them."

Honestly, if it turned out Li was in possession of some cryo nades, it wouldn't surprise him. It was an impressive arsenal, by anyone's standards; the weapons had all been altered, of course, reduced in size and weight to accommodate the bounty hunter's own limited stature, and Loki found himself wondering if Li had sacrificed stopping power for convenience. He was going to have trouble using those; they probably sprayed like a hose. A pair of blaster pistols were inspected next: the bodies were unchanged, and only the grips were smaller - perfect for Wah fingers, but not human ones.

"We may have a problem, Li," he said, at last daring to raise the issue, "Your weapons. They are somewhat... small."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Or maybe you're somewhat big." Fook's reply came quickly, and he didn't even look away from the wall of weapons before them. But for as fast as it came, it wasn't edged or venomous, instead offered as a counter to Loki's own comment, and it was left at that.

Taking down a compact heavy blaster rifle, Fook set it to his shoulder and looked down its sights. On him the thing still appeared bulky, yet he managed it. "Made most of the modifications myself. Think I've still got most of the grips I can put back on to fit those mitts of yours. Trigger pull is still gonna be short on all of 'em for you, though." The rifle was put back, a semi-automatic slug-thrower something like a shotgun taken down to inspect next.

"I got a lightning cannon, but dunno if it still works. Shit was used as fuck when I got it, dig? Only tested it once myself. Couple slug-throwers, and got some explosive rounds for some of them," he said, looking over his inventory. "Frags and thermal detonators for days, but no cryos. That's the ion rifle, there. Ain't actually modified that one yet because I never use it."

Craning his head back, he shouted toward the paid of automated arms working in the kitchenette. "Yo, G-Dawg, we got any known suppliers between us and Lothal?"

"ONLY ONE, BUT PRICES WILL BE MOST INFLATED," Guan Yu's voice replied. "PRIMARILY SURPLUS EQUIPMENT FROM THE CLONE WARS. IT WOULD BE MILITARY GRADE, AT THE VERY LEAST."

"Yeah, and probably beat to fuck, too," Fook grumbled. The shotgun was placed back on the rack, and he vented a sigh. "Ion blasters are gonna be the shit, huh, dawg? You up for making a pit-stop?"

[Abarai Loki]

Li's retort made Loki grin. He had a point, he conceded. Big or small was just a matter of perspective, after all. In the future, he'd have to find a way to be more accommodating and tactful in his language. His grin broadened, as he imagined himself desperately attempting to explain to Li that he was just too big for his weapons, like it was his fault or something. With the tables turned like that, it was no small wonder Li had armed himself with snappy responses for any kind of insinuation that there was a problem with his height. The pride with which he carried himself would simply not allow for it.

While Li reviewed his inventory, Loki watched, and listened; he handled the weapons with care, and confidence. He knew what he was talking about, and the degree of customisation on display before him was testament to his considerable knowledge. Loki could strip a rifle, but, to customise it like that? Where would he begin? There was much he could learn from his experience with Li Ho Fook, and Guan Yu, too. Suddenly, his brow creased, with a mixture of confusion and amusement. When did he start thinking of the blasted computer as a person? The smirk returned. It was too late to go back now.

When the discussion turned to making a supply run, Loki's interest piqued. Under any other circumstances, the thought of a shopping trip would be enough to render him comatose from encroaching boredom, but this would be no ordinary shopping trip. And though, he was doing cartwheels on the inside, he still had to play it cool.

"I'm on your time, Li," he managed, with a nod, "You do what you've got to do."

[Li Ho Fook]

Time. Most beginner bounty hunters didn't factor time into their plans like they should, and had it not been for a taskmaster of a teacher back in his apprentice days, Fook would likely still put time on the back burner. But time was the difference between locating your target or not, between surprise and heading into fortification. Fook stepped back enough so that he could see the estimated arrival time on his holoscreen, and a red dot appeared on the map as Guan Yu caught him looking.

"ESTIMATED THREE HOURS DELAY, INCLUDING BROWSE, HAGGLE AND PURCHASE TIME," the AI answered Fook's question before he could ask it.

Three hours could ruin most jobs, but seeing as Lothal was out in the sticks, he guessed he could risk it. After all, who knew when someone would actually take the job in the first place? Nodding, he announced, "Make the detour, G-Dawg. Also, need a tally of what all shit we got what we can unload as merch, dig?"

"I DIG WITH THE MIGHTIEST OF SHOVELS!" Guan Yu laughed his reply.

"That ain't what I meant by... nevermind," Fook just laughed as he got the joke. "Looks like you're gonna get to see a black market weapons deal, Flax-dawg. But right now let's get you mostly kitted out, feel me? Three pistols, one on each hip, one at the back of the waist. Six grenades: three frag, three thermal, they go on your belt. One heavy rifle, one light rifle. Weapon charges gon' go on webgear that goes on your chest, feel me? Only gots one helmet, so unless we find one at this stop, you're getting the headband mounted light. Pick a matched pair of pistols you like best, homie."

[Abarai Loki]

A black market weapons deal.

There was nothing about that phrase that appealed to Loki's sensibilities. When Li said they were going to pick up supplies, he imagined a legitimate arms dealership, or at least a licensed market stall tucked away in the corner of some bustling town, somewhere. The black market, he thought. Perhaps it sounded worse than it actually was. Besides, wasn't this exactly what he signed up for? Bounty hunters operated on the edge of the law, and that was what made them so good at their jobs in the first place, because they were there, in the shadow, with the scum. It wasn't glamorous, but he had to admit, there was a certain poetry about it.

All of his concerns, however, were blown out of an airlock, the moment Li started to describe his loadout. It fell on his ears like the sweetest music, and captured his imagination like old holofilms. Three pistols, six grenades, and two different types of rifles? It was downright pornographic. Loki approached the racks of pistols with a healthy measure of caution, and excitement. He had to make the right choice. There were the boring classics, and some blasters that had been modified beyond recognition, but their was one matching pair that drew his attention: they were a decent size, not too bulky, but not so sleek to be the preference of a violent princess. He reached out; the texture of the grip made him smile. The weight was reassuring in his hand. He liked it.

"This one," he decided. "What is it?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Them's A-3 Wraith 'Shriekers,'" Fook replied. "Hella old-school, but they're reliable. They was some of my first matching sets, but they got a unibody construction, so I can't cut down that grip, see?"

The Wah took the matching pistol from the rack, working it over with one paw. Without its energy cell, the gun was off-balance and nose-heavy, yet it still felt comfortable and unobtrusive. The sights had been upgraded to holographic red dots for faster target acquisition, and internals upgraded to better handle the overcharged receiver, but for the most part they felt stock, with a bit of normal wear and tear.

"Now, for your holdout pistol," Fook said, placing the A-3 back on its rack. "This." He withdrew a compact, ugly little blaster pistol with a barrel larger than it really ought to have for its size, and bore heavy amounts of custom work to make the firearm smaller than it was ever meant to be. "This used to be a 434 DeathHammer. Used to be. Shit's now running a T-6 Thunderer receiver, and even that's been overcharged to hell. Standard thirty-round energy cell will deplete in eight shots, but dawg, your hand is gonna be bitching hard after five, because this sucka kicks like a motherfucka, dig? This is your last-ditch weapon. Hella powerful, mad whack accuracy, so it's short-range only, feel me? Ain't no safety, so when you pull that trigger, shit's goin' off."

He extended the unloaded backup pistol to Loki, knowing it was one of the ugliest bodge jobs he'd ever done, but the thing had never failed him yet.

[Abarai Loki]

When he first laid eyes on the horrendous little abomination, Loki struggled to contain his uncertainty. If everything Li had said before hadn't confirmed him to be the weapons expert Loki expected him to be, then perhaps he might have issued an objection. Eight shots, Loki repeated, inwardly. It looked like it would fall apart after one. By the time Li was done explaining the punch the little pistol packed, he accepted it with a curl in his lip that was destined to damage his cool. After hearing what it could do, he had a strong compelling urge to find somewhere to test it.

He tested the weight, finding it difficult to pair the tiny thing in his hand with the hand cannon Li had just described.

"So, it used to be a 434 DeathHammer. It has an overcharged T-6 Thunderer receiver." He looked up at Li, expectantly, "What do you call it, now?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Powerful as shit." Once again, Fook's delivery was so flat that it could be used as a regulation snooker table surface. "Gun's a gun, they're tools, they get replaced. You only name shit you're gonna keep, dawg. Otherwise you get attached to bullshit that gets outdated or ineffective."

[Abarai Loki]

"Perhaps." He considered the tiny unassuming pistol once more, "This is a unique model. You should name it. Anything is preferable to 'that custom pistol, built from an old 434 DeathHammer, with the overcharged T-6 Thunderer receiver,' don't you think? It's not quite as snappy as, say, an A-3 Wraith."

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow to Li, and when he didn't immediately respond, he attempted humour, "If you don't name it, I will."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Knock yourself out, holmes," Fook shrugged. "Just don't get too attached to it, because it's just a loaner, feel me?"

"OH DON'T LISTEN TO HIM, NAME IT WHATEVER YOU LIKE," Guan Yu cheerfully rattled their eardrums. "MASTER FOOK USED TO NAME ALL OF HIS WEAPONS. OH, HOW HE WOULD CURSE ONE OF THEM! IF MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY, IT WAS A HOLDOUT BLASTER, AS WELL. HMM, WHAT WAS HER NAME, AGAIN? SHEILA? NO, SHEENA? NO, SHA-"

"Dawg, if you don't shut your pie-hole, so help me, I will mute your ass," Fook warned. A clawed finger pointed at the holovision screen, where Guan Yu gulped, then started twiddling his fingers while looking elsewhere.

"That's right, yo," Fook relaxed his stance, then looked back to Loki. "I used to name them. Was more trouble than it was worth, Flax-dawg; just tryin' to keep you out them pitfalls, feel me?"

Behind Fook's back, Guan Yu stifled a laugh with his hand onscreen.

[Abarai Loki]

Regardless of Li's objection, Guan Yu's outburst left Loki feeling vindicated. He allowed for a thin satisfied smile, even as the miniature bounty hunter attempted to denounce the perils of naming blaster pistols. Once he was finished, Loki gave him an agreeable nod.

"A noble cause, no doubt." The ugly little holdout pistol was returned to its home. When he returned his attention to Li, the amusement had left his face, and was instead replaced with something more sincere, "Are there any other pitfalls I should be made aware of, when preparing for a job?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"I've learned that there are three things that are mad critical to a successful job," Fook replied. "First, know your target."

Thoughts about armaments were set aside for the time being as Fook closed the weapons cabinet and led Loki back to the table. As he took his seat, Guan Yu read Fook's meaning, bringing up the image of Athena along with her known history, while simultaneously depositing the souffles into the oven.

"The more you know about your specific target, the more you'll be able to differentiate them from the stereotype in your head. If you know them, you can better guess what they'll do, and how to make your approach. I shouldn't have taken this mission as your training one, Flax-dawg, and that's my bad. I should have reviewed details before accepting, but a twenty grand job typically ain't this bullshit, feel me? This is like, a fifty-large job. But I'm off-track. Important thing is, the more you know about your target, the more effective you can be in pursuing and apprehending them, and the less potential for them to surprise you. Surprises are always bad, dawg. Always. Bad."

He leaned back in his seat, partially disappearing behind the table - which had been raised to clear Loki's legs. "Second, be prepared. Simple saying, I feel you, but it's vital. Once you know your target, you gots to make sure you're equipped to apprehend it. That means having the right tools and knowing how to use them, yo. Just because you got the biggest, baddest guns, or that new hot-shit stun stuff, don't mean you're ace, feel me? Know I'm throwin' you in the deep end on this job, but if we had more time, I'd take you to the range so we can get you good and right on them blasters. As it stands, don't play no hero. Stay in cover, and only take sure shots, I'll do the rest.

"Third, always have an exit plan. Dawg, I've seen too many new bloods go rookie Rambo and barge in on their collar, only to get them and realize they ain't got no way out, and are trapped. Yeah, we could bust in, blasters on full melt, but ain't gonna be no good shit if we get surrounded after slappin' them bracelets on robo-bitch, would it? No, we need a path in, a path out, and another path out when the first path gets gridlock, feel me? We can speculate based on the layout of that other plant we found, but homie, we ain't goin' in until we compare it to the real location, and sort out them extraction points. This ain't no hologame where you get that 'mission complete' screen once you take down the big bad, feel me?"

[Abarai Loki]

So, they were about halfway, Loki reasoned. They knew their target, and preparations were underway to furnish them with the gear the mission needs. And, though they had studied the layout of one sort of factory, there was good sense in Li's reluctance to base their intel on that, alone. The more it was discussed, the more vivid a picture his imagination painted, full of risk and potential. Hyperspace was too slow; he was aching for action. But, first, soufflé...



####


On the second moon of Raxus, there was a small starport frequented by traders, spacers, and anyone who had it in their best interests to avoid the mad scrum of security checks on Raxus itself. A bounty hunter, for example, looking for an off-the-books trade with a less-than-savoury sort of arms dealer. At least, that was the impression Loki had been given. By this point, his imagination had taken a backseat to the reality of the squalor around him. All around the starport, a convoluted maze of shops, homes, and cantinas had risen up, stitched together by gloomy narrow streets, where half of the population appeared to take shelter in doorways, under filthy rags, or tucked away down seedy alleys, huddled around burning fuel cans. It was a den of misery, and poverty, and filth. They called it Port Town.

Every open door, every flickering sign, Loki thought that perhaps this was it. And, after five minutes of trudging through a relentless downpour of freezing rain, he caved:

"What kind of place are we going to, Li? What kind of a place is this!?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"The kind of place you'll find low to mid-tier bounties, Flax-dawg, so get used to it," Fook replied as he sloshed through puddles.

His sneakers had been traded in for heavy boots, and a waterproof cloak protected him from the rain. Its hood had been pulled up over his head, hiding the flat cap he'd put back on, while gloves covered his paws, nearly fully insulating him against the pounding rain. Across his chest was slung a holster bearing a large, intimidating blaster, as this was the sort of place to immediately advertise that you were not to be trifled with. To that effect, Loki had been entrusted with one of the A-3 Wraith blaster pistols, fully loaded this time around.

"There ain't no law around here 'cept for community law, feel me?" he elaborated. "Biggest rule is: don't start shit you can't handle your entire run back to your ship. You keep a level head, don't diss a playa too bad, you come out skippy. Start shit, you wind up in one of them burn barrels."

He grasped the edge of his cloak and pulled it tighter, as he maintained a steady pace. Despite his short stature and limited gait, he Wah drove a demanding pace by taking two steps for every one of Loki's leading them further and further from he landing pad. Thus far, only the fur around his nose and the tip of his muzzle had gotten wet, and that was the way he preferred it, as his tail was drawn up inside his cloak to protect it. Under the correct conditions, such as a shower, a hot tub brimming with hotties, or the crystal-clear waters of some tropical beach, Fook enjoyed being wet, but dirty rainfall in some lawless scumhole was not one of those options. As a fat raindrop exploded upon his glistening black nose, the bounty hunter scowled, shaking his head to fling away as much of the aquatic shrapnel as possible.

His gloved left paw braved emerging from his cloak so that he could glance at the holoprojection Guan Yu was feeding to his wrist computer. One more block, then a left. Left turns were always better than right ones if you were right-pawed, as your gun arm was not pinned against a wall before a blind corner. The unfortunate truth was that it would be a right turn on the way back out, which could sometimes prove even more dangerous.

"This way." He waved his gloved paw toward the side alleyway, boots trudging through muck as he approached a steel door set into a grime-slicked concrete wall like a pockmark. Shrouded in its frame, Fook reached up to pound upon it three times with the butt of his fist, each strike rattling the hinges and sending echoing booms within the old warehouse beyond.

Dry steps of well-heeled boots could be heard clopping across smooth duracete from the other side, before a sliding viewport opened on the door, a good two feet above Fook's head. A view of the dismal alleyway, in all its fetid stench, was all which greeted the pair of eyes which peeked out from behind the door, then the viewport shut. Fook pounded upon the door again, and the viewport was flung back open.

"What the frell?" exclaimed a voice from the other side of the door.

"Down here, yo!" Fook shouted back as he raised his paw to wave it high enough to be seen.

"Get lost, kid!" the voice replied, and the viewport slammed shut once more.

Beneath his hood, Fook's ears flattened, and his lips curled in a snarl. His left paw pulled back the right side of his cloak to free his arm, where he wound up for a mighty blow, driving his knuckles squarely into the door itself. The hinges screamed in protest, but it was the door which gave first, caving in around his fist as he landed a four-inch dent into the metal. Terrified expletives could be heard from the other side. Locks and latches clicked open, and the dented door swung inward as Fook shook out his paw, knuckles stinging.

"The frell was that?" snapped the Rodian on the other side of the door.

"You didn't have a doorbell," Fook replied. "I'm here to see a man about a dog."

"What?" the Rodian squawked, glancing between the little Wah and the dent in his door. "That's not even the right idiom!"

Fook narrowed his eyes, glaring up at the Rodian. "It is a known idiom which infers that one states one purpose while clearly meaning another. Ipso facto, it is genuinely applicable and relevant to the current situation in which we find ourselves." He raised an eyebrow. "Or would you rather have me shouting, "Yo, dawg, I'm here to buy them illegal guns you got stashed here!"

The Rodian hissed his displeasure at not only being wrong, but being wrong in front of a customer. "Just... get your ass inside. He with you?" he nodded to Loki's sorry, sodden form in the rain.

"Yeah, he's the paper, feel me?" Fook replied, stepping inside.

"Dude, you nearly punched a hole in my door, I am not going to feel you," the Rodian answered.

Fook rolled his eyes before folding back both sides of his cloak into a cape, and finally let his tail down. "I mean he's the money, I'm the expert. He's with me."

Confused, and still slightly shaken, the Rodian waved Loki inside, shutting the door behind him. All but one of the locks was refastened, the final one now out of alignment.

[Abarai Loki]

The stand-off at the door had left Loki with a patience deficiency. Outside, in the cold, where every raindrop rattled his calm with all force of a turbolaser volley, he contemplated the efficient application of his A-3 Wraith to the hinges and locks. Fortunately, Li made short work - Ha ha! - of the tedious stalemate, and the door itself. When the Wah imprinted the durasteel door with his fist, all of Loki's remaining doubts evaporated: the Force was with his bounty hunter companion. Even as the doorman relented, and allowed them both inside, he found no small degree of satisfaction in the knowledge that he, for a remarkable change, was the subtle one.

Once inside, he pulled back the hood of his traveller's cloak, and trailed water all the way across the stark floor to Li. While the Rodian was wrestling with the door behind him, he leaned close to Li, and hissed with scathing disbelief:

"I'm the money? I don't have a credit to my name!" He wheeled around to find the Rodian closing in at speed. His expression suddenly brightened like a new day on Naboo, "Ah! Let us do business, you and I. Take me to your fine wares!"

"Steady on, son," the Rodian raised his hands, as if to ward off the salty musk of overcooked ham, "I'm just the turnkey of this joint. Don't quite have the airs and graces for conversing with a gentleman of your calibre. Please, follow me!"

Into the main body of the warehouse they were led, where they were greeted by rows-upon-rows of stalls, workstations, and display cases. Everything was bathed in a gloomy hazy light, the reasoning for which became apparent on closer inspection: the first thing they passed was an old clone trooper breastplate that was pockmarked by a thousand tiny holes at the shoulder - probably from shrapnel or some sort of buckshot.

Loki's frown told no lies about his first impression. He glanced at Li, "Have you brought me to some sort of museum?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Told you this was Clone Wars shit," Fook whispered back to his apprentice. "Sometimes you gots to take what you can get, dig?" As they walked, the Wah pulled a chitcard from his pocket and slipped it into Loki's own. "You're the money because they wouldn't believe you're a bodyguard," he added.

It was not only Loki's mood which soured at the sight of the merchandise, but Fook's as well. The site had been listed as a weapons dealer, light and heavy armaments, armor, and military equipment. What it better resembled was a scrapyard, laden with the flea-bitten remains of once-proud weaponry and machinery. Weapons obviously lacked key components, and while Fook's eyes brightened at the sight of a Droidekkar, he lost his excitement rapidly to see it was standing only because its joints had been welded into place.

"Yo, Turnkey," Fook called out. The Rodian slowed, looking back at the pair, while Fook came to a halt. "If this is what y'all's offering, we're done here, dawg. My buyer needs shit that works, feel me?"

"Leave now and you'll miss out on my fine wares," a voice called out from the darkness of the warehouse beyond. It was slow and lyrical, with a rural drawl, and while it was neither deep nor powerful, it was a voice which commanded attention. "Weeoo, be a dear and hit the lights, why doncha?"

The Rodian nodded and hurried to a panel where he flicked up every switch. Lights burst to life with the sound of steel drums clanging together for each, thanks to their old-stye filament bulbs. Aisle by aisle, light flooded down the dark expanse of the warehouse, illuminating in succession far more gear, and their host. He was a Duros, dressed in a white linen three-piece suit, complete with black bolo tie, and he leaned upon a wholly unnecessary walking stick as he approached, his gait as genteel and leisurely as his accent.

"Son, I say son, it is unreasonable to judge a merchant's wares solely by a fraction of his selection," the Duros carried on. "As you can see, it is a wealth of equipment which I purvey, and surely among it there must be that rarest of gems you seek."

Fook stared up at the merchant's saccharine smile, unmoved. "Ion blasters and cryo grenades," he stated.

The Duros merchant paused, but recovered quickly. "Well, perhaps there's some other gem you might find amongst my selection."

"Dawg, we're here for ion blasters and cryo grenades, and we ain't gots that time t'go rootin' through your rusty old shit, feel me?"

The Duros arched one fleshy eyebrow, and leaned upon his cane with both hands. "Oh, son, I feel you, I do. I feel you from the bottom of my heart, and that is a depth which goes straight to my core," he replied. "And because I feel you with such sincere and honest understanding, I feel obligated to not only tell you I do not have what you seek, but to inquire as to your purpose in case there may be some other method by which I might prove my ability to assist one such as yourself, y'understand?"

While Fook had not moved from his position, he considered the unusual nature of the warehouse of goods before him, and the even more unusual nature of their dealer. There had been no notes left by other bounty hunter regarding dealings with this man, so Fook didn't even know his name to do a deeper search on. Had there been any other dealer in reasonable distance on their route who did have a listing, the bounty hunter would have opted for them instead. The unknown was always a dangerous factor. Stalling for time, the Wah allowed himself to look over some of the new racks which had been illuminated, and noted a few strange shadows between the scaffolding. There were others in the warehouse, and from their slow, close-held shadows, they were armed. This Duros clearly did not have the fullest of faith in his career as a pitchman, that much was for certain.

Yet there was something about his delivery which appealed to Fook. In his experience, most black market weapons dealers would simply tell you they didn't have what you wanted, and that would conclude the meeting. Brevity was a necessity in many cases in order to avoid unwanted attention. But this Duros appeared to take delight in his display and pageantry, and offered to assist in alternative solutions. Either business here was slow and he was desperate for any sale, or he had no fear of whatever authorities might have purview over the area. Scratching his chin, Fook nodded slowly.

"Got some droids giving my buyer mad shit, dig?" he said. "Need that firepower what can take out a bunch, even battle droids. Need heavy hit, high-temp blasters, or some of them explosive or armor-piercing slug-throwers. Man-portable, no external power packs."

"I don't suppose your buyer has considered a localized EMP?" the Duros asked. "I reckon that'd be the fastest way of disabling a whole mess of droids. I happen to have-"

"EMP's a no-go, dawg," Fook shook his head. "Buyer's got some sensitive material on computers in that area. Can't lose that shit, yo, so we gots to go full-manual on them chrome-asses."

The Duros's eyebrows raised again, then fell as he tapped at the side of his cane in thought. "I see, I say I see, that is quite the precarious predicament you and your buyer find yourself in, Mr...?"

"Wang," Fook answered. "Dong Wang, private security. And you is?"

A blue-skinned hand was placed to his linen-suited chest as the Duros corrected his posture. "Dearie me, did I fail to introduce myself? My most humble apologies, Mr. Wang, I am Segarious Duckets, dealer in, shall we say, decommissioned military equipment. Is this your buyer with the droid problem."

"Yeah, that's him."

"I see, I say I see. Now, being as you are private security, am I to presume you will be, shall we say, correcting the behavior of these miscreant droids by yourself, or will the young master be assisting? I ask only because I do not wish to show you items wich might prove... troublesome for a gentleman of your, shall we say, reduced stature. Physically, that is, no other meaning implied."

The wah nodded. "Yeah, I'm spearheading, he's close support, dig?"

"Then in that case, I may have just the thing. Do be so kind as to follow me, would you now?"

Fook didn't budge, instead hooking a thumb into his belt near the blaster slung across his chest. "Maybe you want to call your homies out of hiding, first, dawg. Gots this aversion to gats waitin' 'round the corner, feel me?"

Segarious Duckets offered yet another sickeningly sweet smile. "But of course, son, but of course. C'mon out, boys, these are our customers. It's mighty rude to make a customer feel unwelcome, now isn't it."

With the lazy clop of boots, six men sauntered out from their hiding places. Trandoshans, human, a wookiee, and a gammorean, each armed with Clone Trooper rifles. Duckets simply offered a chuckle. "You can't expect a man in a business such as my own to lack protection, now can you, Mr. Dong? After all, I say, after all, I didn't ask you and yout fine friend here to leave your weapons at the door."

"Nor would I have," Fook cut him off. "I ain't got much time, playa, so show me what you got, or me and my paper gon' bounce."

Duckets' smile faded, and he leaned upon his walking stick. "If that's the case, let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? This way."

As they passed numerous rows of heavy equipment, Fook took mental stock of Duckets' wares, knowing he'd need to summarize them for his own entry on the Bounty Hunters Guild listings. Accurate, comprehensive reviews helped all bounty hunters, and there was a two hundred credit spiff for being the first to review a new merchant. If his guess was right, it appeared that this Duros and his gang had raided an old Republic military storehouse, as a great deal of items were not terribly useful to the average user, and some were still in their original shipping containers. Crates of armor stood out as one handy supply, at least for someone of Loki's size, and he made a mental note to inquire about it.

"Ion weapons were never terribly in fashion in these here parts," Segarious rambled as he ambled. "See, not too much need for them, as there are so scarce few droids in the area, slavery being so popular and all. Was cheaper to buy workers than it was to import droids, and when the Republic tore through, well, let's just say their targets were the kind that would bleed when they got hit. So, if you wanna take out droids, I say you're gonna need some impact, heah, or at least what we call in the industry, a 'superior rate of fire.' I do believe, I say I do believe I may have both covered in a single weapon. Behold, the Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, from Merr-Sonn Munitions. Man-portable, squad-based heavy blaster with an intense rate of fire. That is, if the young master can handle it."

Before them was brought a six-barreled heavy blaster meant to be held and fired from the hip for walking fire situations. While it showed minor signs of rust, it also appeared to have never seen actual combat, as the paint was perfect.

Glancing back to Loki, Fook asked, "Dag, that's a bigass gat, yo. Think you can handle one of them? Like, for reals, dawg."

[Abarai Loki]

In the same way that Loki avoided putting his hands in fires, and drinking from toilets, he also strove to avoid conversation with men like Segarious Duckets. His humility oozed like syrup, and the pandering was relentless. Listening to him speak was like being beaten to death with perfumed silks. And just being in his presence made him feel greasier than a tailring bacon sandwich. He was grateful for Li taking the lead, negotiating a path for them around the tedious saccharine minefield of words; the myriad layers of salesmanship hacked to bits by a cutting phrase or two from the diminutive bounty hunter. And, while Li humoured all the verbal foreplay, Loki inspected the impressive variety of hardware on display, occasionally, allowing his gaze to drift to the places where Duckets's armed men were stood sentry.

When Duckets introduced them to the astonishing Z-6, Loki's full attention was arrested. He inspected it while they talked, slowly circling the display, until Li had a question for him.

"I can handle it, I'm sure." His frown fell into place as he considered the blaster cannon. He took his time, desperate to not to appear overeager. He extended a hand at the weapon, and sought out Duckets, and his approval, "May I?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Oh, but of course, but of course! Naturally we have our own shooting range for just such a thing." Segarious Duckets replied. Walking stick grasped with his pinky, the Duros lifted his hands and clapped twice. "Oh, boys!"

From the lineup of guards, two men stepped forward. One bore a canister of Tibanna gas to charge the weapon, while the other walked straight on by to pull back the canvas covering the shell of a much-abused AT-ST. A subtle hiss puffed from the gas canister as it was connected, and Fook counted off the seconds in his head to estimate the charge level. Two seconds passed before the canister was disconnected, about four percent charge by his reckoning. Enough for a thorough test firing, but not much more than that. Risk was further reduced on Duckets's end as the remaining guards held their own rifles at the ready, while Fook made sure to keep his paws well away from his own.

"That's more like it," Duckets said with the broadest of smiles, his lips sliding up over white teeth as if they'd been coated in teflon. "Just try, I say just try and aim for the wreck, there, and not my wall, if'n you'd be so kind."

[Abarai Loki]

When the assault walker was revealed, Loki felt his internal organs falling into his feet, freezing him to the spot. He allowed for a quiet sigh of relief, once the nature, and the state, of the old walker became apparent. The icy shard of dread that had pierced him changed, then, into an electric spark of excitement. He was about to shoot that thing with a rotary blaster cannon. Maybe this was why people liked Life Day so much - it certainly felt like it!

"Thanks," Loki gave the guards a nod, and moved in to ease the cannon from its mount, "It is heavy."

There was a telling strain to his voice, as he lifted it up to chest height. Once it settled beside his waist, the burden was eased. He adjusted his grip, first, on the top handle, then the rear one. He glanced to Li, and his frown of contemplation became a thin smile.

"But not too heavy."

Away from Li, Duckets, and his men, Loki gauged the weapon, adjusting it in his hands - lifting, aiming, turning - until he felt familiar enough with its weight. A silent nod was all the warning he afforded the spectators before the light show. There was a sharp click, and the six barrels started to spin, humming slowly at first, but in no time at all they were a whining blur. Loki took a breath, braced himself, and aimed for the base of the AT-ST's main body. With just the slightest tease of the trigger, the cannon came alive, screeching wild blue death at the walker, it kicked against his hands and dug into his hip. Loki winced, and that was just enough. The rain of blue blaster fire climbed rapidly, scorching the front of the walker, all the way to the cockpit. He stopped at once, releasing the trigger, lest he start punching holes in the warehouse roof.

The cannon sighed as it stopped. Loki sympathised.

"It certainly packs a punch," he said, and grinned, "Mind if I have another go? I think I can handle this."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Oh, but of course, I say but of course," Segarious Duckets replied. "I would never let a customer go unsatisfied, let it be said."

Fook watched the entire process, studying his apprentice's form and handling, and he determined it to be something out of a holofilm more than real practice. Holding a paw up, he stepped forward. "Just a sec, homie," he called out.

He approached Loki, who still stood ready to fire, and shook his head. "Shit's climbin' too high, dawg, need to maintain level if you gonna rattle this indoors dig?" One of his booted footpaws reached out to tap Loki's ankle to widen his stance, then he reached up, to grasp both of Loki's wrists, re-positioning his hands. "Back one off to the side a bit, and pull back with it. Front hand push forward and down. Strain one grip against the other, keeps it all in place, feel me?" Glancing at the remaining charge level, he added, "Got about enough charge as the first go. Need to keep this shit level, or it's too dangerous to use."

[Abarai Loki]

The few minor adjustments had made a world of difference. In his hands, the Z-6 felt suddenly nimble and pliable, as he manipulated the grips as instructed. He returned to his original spot, placing nothing but distance between himself and the weathered old assault walker. He took aim, pausing long enough to widen his stance, and get a real feel for the weapon. This time, he knew how it would react, and he knew hot to compensate for it. And, this time, he was going to use the Force. It flowed freely, like running water, pouring into his shoulders, pooling in his legs, and filling up his arms; his muscles became infused with its power, transforming the fibres into something hard and strong, like durasteel cables. Once he was ready, he fired.

In no time at all, the furious stream of blaster fire was at full power, tearing into the AT-ST. Loki's grip tightened, and he tensed as the howling blaster canon started to fight against him. It didn't move an inch. All around, the warehouse flashed from the searing blue light, it illuminated the darkest corners and simultaneously stretched long new shadows into the distance. The fire was sustained, impacting the exact same spot on the thick armoured chassis, until the metal started to glow like a star. Slowly, the armour started to warp and buckle, and just as it was about to give way, the torrential barrage died. The power cell was depleted.

For a moment, Loki basked in the afterglow of the violence, listening to the grinding of barrels, still in a wild spin. Then, with a flick of a switch, the blaster canon fell completely silent at last. Relaxing the weapon by his side, he turned to Li, and allowed his eyebrows to climb in measured regard.

"You know, Li, you're a rather good teacher."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Called the Grandmaster for a reason, yo," Fook smirked.

Behind that smirk was a mind whirring as it analyzed and calculated what he just saw. Yes, proper posture and bracing would have reduced the Z-6's kick, but even a man twice Loki's weight would be unable to lock down the weapon against its recoil as he'd just seen done. Perhaps there was more to this Igo Flax than met the eye, but such talk was best left for times behind closed doors, and certainly not in front of shady businessmen.

"Well weave my fibers and call me a basket," Segarious Duckets whistled at the impressive sight. "Son, I say, son, you are a right natural with that there weapon, you hear me? A right natural. If that doesn't convince you that you simply must have it, I don't rightly reckon I know any further way to persuade you fine gentlemen. Now there's just the matter of price. I'd say such a fine specimen is worth -"

"Sixteen hundred credits," Fook cut him off.

Duckets paused, mouth open, red eyes blinking before straightening his posture and leaning upon his walking stick, feet set close together at its base. "I'd say that sounds a little low, there, son," he replied. "This is a new, never-issued -"

"Don't give a shit, holmes," the Wah was quick on the draw once more. Tapping on his wrist computer, he lifted his arm so that its holoprojection could be seen. "Sector standard pricing on a Z-6 runs nine hundred to fifteen hundred credits, fully charged. I'm offering above top end, and I'll charge it myself, feel me? You ain't exactly got a line of customers out the door, so I'm guessin' it might be some mad time before you shift another one of these bad boys, so again, I'll give you sixteen hundred, flat."

Every atom of good cheer was sucked out of Segarious Duckets as if he'd been exposed to the vacuum of space, but said vacuum only extracted cheer. It would be more of a metaphysical vacuum than a real one, and this narrator isn't entirely sure how it could happen, but for the sake of not going off on a tangent more than I already have, let's just say that Segarious Duckets was not happy and leave it at that.

"My asking price is twenty-five hundred," the Duros stated.

"And my offer is sixteen," Fook replied.

Around them the guards grew tense, the air crackling with the electricity of danger and nervous anticipation. Well, it wasn't literally crackling, as danger and nervous anticipation do not create electrical fields as far as I'm aware, but -

Stop it right there, you. I know you're trying to make a joke, but you've strayed too far from the narrative and started to inject yourself as a character, and that's right out.

But I'm being edgy and fun, turning the tables by poking fun at my own metaphors and -

That's it, you're fired. I'm getting a new narrator.

Around them the guards grew tense, the air crackling with the electricity of danger and nervous anticipation, and Fook could sense he'd placed himself and his apprentice in a most precarious position. Paws raising slowly in front of him, he nodded to Duckets, making it clear he didn't want a fight. "Sixteen, and I think we might be able to make a deal on some of the armor you're having trouble shifting, too, feel me? Profit by volume, holmes. Gots to think that big picture. I could have gone to a competitor, but I came to you. You work with me, I tells my homies where they can get dope hardware, they comes and sees you, dig?"

Duckets' glare remained a few seconds before he slowly nodded his head. "I believe you could say that I do, indeed, dig." A deep breath, followed by a sigh both inflated, and relaxed the breast of his white linen suit, and he waved a gloved hand out toward the minigun in Loki's hands. "Why don't I have one of my boys set that aside for you, son, so's I better show the wide and varied assortment of armors I carry in stock."

By wide and varied, Duckets did not understate. Crates of unused Clone Trooper armor were at his disposal, in seemingly every variation or theme which had been produced.

[Abarai Loki]

The exchange between Li and the extortionate Duckets played out very much like a scene from a holoshow, in Loki's mind. He found himself drawn in by the drama, poised on the edge of his proverbial seat, as the tension escalated between the steadfast hero and the greedy villain. Far from his mind was the very real threat of danger all around them. It was unlike him to be unprepared; maybe it was the huge weapon in his hands, or perhaps, on a more philosophical note, he was becoming arrogant with confidence, but, in all likelihood, the truth was that Li's bartering skills were just so bloody impressive. Not an inch, did he budge, instead, he relied on hard facts and the shrewd promise of further profit to bolster his case. That was the kind of language that truly spoke to the hearts of men like Segarious Duckets.

Upon being relieved of the mighty blaster canon, Loki found he immediately missed its sturdy weight. Something that powerful, that heavy, and potentially destructive, it felt like an anchor in uncertain waters. So he found himself buffeted forth, and led towards a towering island of armour crates. They circled, pointing out potentials, discussing the various properties of each component - weight, durability, heat resistance, and so on - while Loki helped himself to pieces, stapping on shin guard, here, a breastplate, there. In time, he started to appreciate the small differences, and, while he found himself admiring the full gleaming sets of unused clone trooper armour, he knew he was better off without all that extra weight. He liked to move in battle. He was fast.

"I say well now, if'n you don't just look the picture of a great Jedi General, son. An absolute fact, that is."

Loki wheeled around to regard the silken-voiced Duros. He glanced down at himself, in his new attire. It was a combination of various composite components, each picked out according to shape, and quality: a pair of clean white greaves climbed all the way to his knees, and, on each forearm, there were plastoid-alloy vambraces that also provided some minimal protection for his hands; he wore a modified lightweight, and couple of moulded shoulder pads that afforded him unhindered rotation in his arms. Excluding a few parts, it was clone trooper armour through-and-through, with one exception. It was a heavy duty utility belt that came complete with its own plastoid codpiece - it was smaller than the clone trooper variant, almost certainly non-regulation, which meant it didn't cut into his thighs whenever he squatted or crouched - some protection was better than no protection, and it was a part of his anatomy with which he was prepared to take no chances.

There was a hint of suspicion in his voice, when he returned his attention to Duckets, "What?"

"Why, your armor, son. That is precisely how those noble Jedi adorned themselves during the Clone Wars - terrible business, that, but I can't say it hasn't provided for me in the end. Now just you hold on, I'm sure, I say I'm sure I've got a holo, here, of one such fine gentleman. A General Obi-"

"That will not be necessary," Loki cut him off, without ceremony. There was only one person's opinion he cared to hear, "Li?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook watched the exchange, and silently wished a few pieces of armor could be scaled down to fit himself, but when his apprentice tugged on that codpiece belt... thing, the Wah simply arched an eyebrow and said. "You look like you're wearin' a jock strap, dawg."

[Abarai Loki]

"We're not going to a fashion show, Li!" he hissed, turning pink. "This... jockstrap is going to be the difference between my ability to father children or not, someday."

His words were punctuated with a faint tink-tink of plastoid, as he rapped his knuckles on the codpiece to prove his point. When he realised what he'd just said, his expression started to sour at the thought of having children. It was enough to snatch the defiant wind from his sails and rob him of all objection. His arms folded across his chest to contain the huff of impatience brewing below.

"If you have nothing constructive to add. Shall we crack on?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Don't worry, I got some paint at the ship," was all the answer Fook felt necessary before turning back to Segarious Duckets. "Sixteen for the gat, eight hundred for the armor, and I'll throw in an extra hundred so's you can get a proper doorbell, feel me?"

It wasn't the sale Fook had been hoping for, as they were coming out of it with no spare ion weapons or pulse grenades, and the whole endeavor had wasted precious time. For Segarious Duckets, the sale had gone no better. An outsider had come in, cut his prices to the bone, was right about them, and worst of all was likely the only customer he'd have today. Had he not acquired his merchandise for free, the entire endeavor would have been a waste of time, so with gloved hands resting on the gleaming golden knob of his ebony walking stick, he sighed and gave a nod. At least his men would be getting paid today.

"Are you sure there's nothing else I could interest you in? I say I possess the widest range of rocket launchers in these here parts, if'n you're lookin' for even more stopping power," he offered.

Fook simply shook his head. "Too much of that collateral damage, yo. Blaster bolt can do them leopard spots on a wall, but rockets'll bring that shit down, dig? Flax, pay the man."

So much for an additional sale, the Duros figured, yet it had been worth a try. As Loki offered up Fook's chit card, Duckets paused, then took it carefully. Only then did the reality of the situation dawn upon him, and he stared down at the emblem upon it before glancing between Loki and Fook before he handed it off to his Rodian turnkey to run the card through the system. There was no question it would clear, that much was a given just looking at it. Galactic Bank of the Bounty Hunters Guild, and it was the white card at that. To most in the galaxy, the color of the card meant little, but in the right circles, it marked the owner as a member of the guild in the highest standing who had served for more than ten years. Everyone else got the black card, and those in their first year were only given a red card, which had to be prepaid into an account to draw from. White carried an unlimited draw amount, as the holder was assured to be good for it.

Held between the tips of two gloved fingers, Duckets returned the card to its clearly rightful owner - Fook. "If'n there's anything more I can ever do for you, don't hesitate, I say don't hesitate to let me know, good sir," he said with a smile. "And please, tell your friends about me. I assure you only the best of treatment."

Fook took the chit card and tucked it into one of his pockets with a nod, while the Z-6 was brought forth to be presented to Loki. "Will do, dawg. But, let me lay some knowledge on you: Diversify. You gots all this stock, but it's same shit over and over. If you ain't movin' this stock in these parts, get in touch with other dealers and see if they need it. Trade for what they can't move, but you need. You wants to attract more hunters, you gots to stock the props we cravin', homie. Diversified portfolio guarantees returns in some areas to make up for others. Register with the Guild, they gots a network, legit secure, they'll hook you up. Also, diggin' them threads, yo. That's a hella fly suit."

While only half of what the little bounty hunter said made any sense, Duckets nodded for it made good sense indeed. Whatever excess profits he'd lost on this sale could be made up for if he could get in good with bounty hunters, and an ability to shift some of his more... antique goods for a profit would never be a bad thing. Hand placed upon his heard, the Duros smiled and gave a half bow in respect. "Why thank you, my good man, for both the compliment and the advice. I shall, I say I shall take it to heart. Now you all have the most wonderful day, and y'all come on back now, y'hear?"

Fook only gave a smile and nod before turning to head back to the door, while Loki was handed his Z-6. Moments later, both foud themselves back outside with the pouring rain pounding upon their cloaks and hoods, wishing it had been possible to find closer parking.

[Abarai Loki]

The large warped door shut behind them with a resounding doom. Loki glanced back at the small paw imprint in the thick metal, and stared beyond the door, back to Duckets and his men, in contemplation of what had just transpired. There was no mistaking the change that came over the slippery arms dealer, moments ago. It was sudden and stark, as if he'd unearthed some sort of precious secret. Perhaps he had expected the payment to decline - measuring the worth of both the chit, and Li, himself, in centimetres alone - once he realised he was getting his credits, he treated the bounty hunter like he was the king of Naboo. Internally, he shrugged it off. Perhaps that was just the power of credits with these people. It was something worth remembering.

As he pulled the hood of his travelling cloak over his head, he caught a glimmer of the plastoid vambraces he was still wearing. The ones paid for with Li's credits. His brow furrowed, and his lips were drawn into a thin line.

"Li," his tone suggested something serious, but when his Wah companion turned back, he suddenly glanced skyward, "This rain. It never ends, right?"

Not waiting to see what sort of look that comment had earned him, Loki pressed on, sloshing down the narrow flooded alley, deeper into the gloom. He heard the lighter splashes of Li's feet behind him, and didn't look back. In silence, they walked, beaten by the ceaseless downpour; in silvery sheets, it fell, drumming his hood, seeping into the fabric until it started to trickle in icy rivulets down his neck. He remembered the way, drawn like a moth to the familiar gaudy glare of flickering signs, until at last the homely glow of the starport was in sight, a literal light at the end of the tunnel.

By the time, they arrived at the 36th Chamber, Loki's arm was beginning to ache. The Z-6, inside its case, might as well have been a corpse, given the weight, and the number of stares he'd attracted, carrying it through the bustling spaceport. So, it was with some relief, that he finally set it down, near one of the external cargo compartments, as Li had instructed. Yet, when he looked at the sleek chassis of the strange Squib vessel, there were no obvious markings for a storage compartment in sight.

"Am I in the right place, here?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Yeah, just a sec," Fook replied. Beneath the partial shelter of the edge of his ship, the Wah slipped his left arm free of his cloak, tapping through a few menus on his wrist-top computer until at last he was rewarded with the satisfying chunk of latches being released, then the hiss of hydraulic actuators lifting a side panel up and away from the shallow cargo hold within. As part of his customization, the original external handholds and latches had been shaved off and smoothed over for a seamless finish, replaced by interior actuators, and the whole body panel lifted as one piece to further reduce seams and hide its existence from a would-be thief.

Inside, lights flickered on, illuminating a hold which ran nearly three meters in length, but less than a meter and a half deep, otherwise it would foul into the proper cargo hold of the 36th Chamber. Nonslip rubberized paint covered most of the interior, along with foldable tie-down hooks and various elastic cargo nets and straps so that items would not clang around in flight should the inertial dampers fail - commonplace equipment enough for any small craft or light freighter. But what hung attached to the back wall of the exterior hold was anything but common.

Secured by straps custom-made for each item hung multiple swords, each with exquisite handles and scabbards, along with various knives, blunt weapons, and a pair of spears, one over two meters long, the other just under two, including its large, curved head, the blade hidden by a broad scabbard. Several other spearheads of varied shape and design were racked beneath them, clearly interchangeable with the fittings of the longer of the two spears. Were it not for sheathes and scabbards, the hold would have glittered with sharp steel, curious weapons all of similar design nature, each of them tailored for a man of Fook's stature, even down to the meter and a half hardwood staff with its iron-capped ends.

Ignoring the weapons entirely, Fook cleared a spot on the floor of the compartment and readied a cargo net. "Right here, dawg. We'll get it back out and charge her up when we land."

[Abarai Loki]

"By the Power of Cosmos!"

The words spilled out in a breath. They were words he'd not heard for a long time, a favourite expression of his old master, Barabas Tosca, whenever he was feeling particularly exasperated. This time, however, the words were uttered in awe. Wide eyes drank greedily at the sight of Li's outrageous collection of bladed weapons. There were some kinds of weapons he'd never seen before. In the age of lightsabers and vibroblades, most of them were antiques, but there was something about the loving and meticulous way they were displayed that suggested that it wasn't just for practical reasons the bounty hunter kept them around. Loki appreciated that.

It took him a moment to realise he was being spoken to, "Hm? Oh."

Following Li's instruction, he placed the Z-6 case in its designated spot. And, while they went about clamping it securely into place, he indulged a second glance at the assorted weaponry.

"That is quite a collection you have, Li."

[Li Ho Fook]

"It's traditional," Fook replied with a shrug, as if the bladed armory was nothing special. "Most of it's from home, but a couple I've picked up here and there. Keep it around to stay up on my practice, dig?"

With the rain hammering off of the lifted panel above, the Wah took a moment to look over his collection again, then withdrew a narrow, straight, double-edged sword from its scabbard with a tug. The blade possessed more of a sheen than a gleam, no polished mirror edge, instead expertly crafted pattern-weld steel, its surface shimmering light and dark like snakeskin. Folding his cloak back, and dropping his hood, Fook drew up onto one leg, his lifted footpaw pointed down along his other shin, left arm out ahead, sword lifted overhead as he looked over his left shoulder. It was an elegant pose with perfect poise, and he held it for a second before coming down and forward quickly. The sword whipped through the air as a silver blur, while his cloak wheeled about his form as he spin, ducked, rose, and weaved in motions and strikes which spoke more of poetry than war, though there was no denying the lethality of the blade he wielded as he fenced his invisible opponent.

On the occasions his strokes took the sword beyond the shelter of the panel above, drops of rain found themselves shorn in half cleanly upon the steel's razor edge, instead of being splattered apart, no water sticking to the blade to be flung around when it returned Loki's direction. For a good ten seconds, Fook put on his little show, though there was no effort in his face, nor exerted through the Force, as each motion seemed to come naturally to him, a practiced part of his being, until at last he brought the sword up swiftly, snapping to a stop with its tip pressing just against Loki's adam's apple. There it was held for a moment before being withdrawn, and slid back into its scabbard.

Cloak coming back over his shoulders, and hood over his head, Fook acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. "C'mon, let's get in out of this rain, yo."

[Abarai Loki]

When the blade tip started its approach, Loki had to fight instinct and keep himself from moving. Shock would've probably been a better reaction, but the sharp kiss of metal upon his skin made him grin. Holoshows failed to hold his attention, theatre was predictable, dances were pointless, and all music sounded more or less the same, but to see someone wield a sword with skill? That was art. The performance reminded him to an elaborate kai-kan that leaned dangerously close to performance art without sacrificing the undercurrent of lethality. He'd trained with metal many times, but never with a blade quite so pretty. Li had excellent taste.

Once the compartment was sealed, Loki followed him up the boarding ramp into the ship, where he removed his sodden cloak and dirty boots, "That was an impressive display. What style of swordsmanship do you call that?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Their cloaks and boots stored in the prisoner compartment for the time being, Fook set about unlatching his shoulder holster, then his wrist computer. The rear hatch of the 36th Chamber closed on its own, thanks to Guan Yu.

"That's tiger style straight sword," the Wah replied. "It's one form of kung fu." Seeing the look he was getting, he took a breath and elaborated. "Kung fu is the name for the parent form of martial arts I know. It is an art in and of itself, but it also possesses many different styles. I found myself good at both tiger and snake styles, but my go-to is dragon. Still, you pick the right one for your setting, and for your opponent. It's, um, sort of a cultural tradition to learn it, where I'm from. That sword is called a jian. It's flexible, nimble, and fast, so you have to play to its strengths. Heavier, single-edged one is called a dao, and you use different moves with it. I like both, but my specialty is the butterfly swords. It's also why I have two lightsabers."

As he spoke, Guan Yu silently set about all the pre-flight checks, and the engines began to hum as they warmed up, signaling it was nearly time to launch.

[Abarai Loki]

About halfway through Li's summary of his homeworld's tradition of martial combat, Loki noticed that a change had come over him. The strange colourful affectation with which he always spoke was gone. His words were regular Basic words that he understood, his pacing was regular, and he had no difficulty keeping up with what he was being told. He found himself wondering if this was the real Li Ho Fook, the one left behind once all of the broader cultural influences had been scrubbed away. But, why now? Loki kept his eyes on him, even as they moved deeper into the ship, all the while, pondering the question.

In talking about home, had Li himself been temporarily transported back to his former life - possibly, a simpler life - before all of this? His gaze drifted from his bounty hunting mentor, and took in their extravagant surroundings, as if he could somehow parse what he saw with the mental image of a young and disciplined Li Ho Fook, working on his training drills, perhaps in a forest, somewhere. Was that who he was? Who he really was? Or had he, like Loki, left his old life behind in search of something new? Something better.

"Li..." Just as he was about to mention the change in his speech, he changed his mind, deeming it too personal. Instead, he found himself revisited by a thought he'd abandoned outside the warehouse. Absently, he ran his fingers over the smooth, and, more to the point, expensive piece of composite armour on his wrist, "I wanted to thank you for what you're doing for me. For this. You'll be repaid in full the moment the job is done, of course. It's just... no-one has ever done something like that for me before, and I want you to know how grateful I am."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Naw, dawg," Fook shook his head. The walls were back up, his outlandish persona returned in full force. "It's a gift, yo. Give ya one of my old stun blasters, too, when we're done. Gots to have the right tools for the job, and all that shit, dig? You'll save credits by not having to bust ass and move through shit-tier gear to get to that choice range; let you take better jobs from that start line. Instead you bank that paper and get yo'self a ship. Ship's freedom, and when you're free, and gots a name for yo'self, I just might hit you up for a favor on a job, feel me?"

He moved toward the cockpit, then stopped, looking back. "B'sides, yo, it's about time there was a Jedi wearin' that armor again and doin' good shit in the galaxy."

[Abarai Loki]

The sudden and unexpected display of generosity rolled over Loki like a powerful wave, leaving him stunned, and deprived of the air to form a coherent response. Having known him for less than a day, Li Ho Fook was still a stranger to him, an unknown quantity. Yes, he'd taken him on as an apprentice, but that was because there had been extra credits on the table, and the distracted lady behind the desk hadn't left him with much option. He was obligated to teach him how to hunt; buying him a set of quality armour and offering it as a gift was not part of the deal. Loki had never before seen that kind of money being thrown around, and, in his shame, he'd never stopped to consider the kind gesture an act of charity.

More than his generosity with credits, it was Li's generosity with words that had surprised him most. It wasn't just that he wanted his apprentice to be properly tooled up for the job at hand, he spoke of the future, too. Loki's future. He spoke of taking jobs, saving credits, and getting himself a ship so he could one day repay his debt, not in credits, but in work. The armour he was wearing? It was Li's personal investment in his future as a bounty hunter. In his stunned silence, Loki found himself wondering what he could have possibly done to deserve that kind of faith. Nothing, he told himself. Then he'd have to earn it.

His thoughts became derailed, further thank-you's went unspoken, scattered in the wake of Li's parting shot. One word in particular shot through him like a jolt of electricity, making him flinch. He compensated, allowing the surprise on his face to crash down in a bemused frown.

"A... Jedi?" He almost choked on the word. It took some convincing on his part, but, maybe, thought Loki, maybe he'd just taken the words of Segarious Duckets to heart. An open hand thudded on his plastoid breastplate, "You're not talking about me, are you? What that dealer said, back there, it was only nostalgia."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, dawg," Fook warned. He ceased his advance on the cockpit, taking a step toward Loki instead. Black, beady eyes stared up into Loki's own, never once leaving their connection. "You saw me curl a Trandoshan into a holding cell, not one hit o' flinch. You spotted my lightsaber on a glance, gave it that studying eye before goin' all actor that it wasn't something you'd seen before. Dawg, you think I was just playin' when I punched that door like I did? Hell naw, that was a test, and you didn't say shit, so I knew you knew what I was doin'. Then you done gave yourself away with that Z-6, Flax-dawg. Ain't no strongass motherfucker could lock that shit down like you did. Gat didn't move a centimeter, because you was on point with that Force shit."

He took one step closer, raising a paw with his index finger extended. "All that, I figure, yeah, you could be one of them natural users, but dawg you young." The finger then waggled. "You don't learn that shit without bein' taught by your age, so I knows you gots proper schoolin'. So either you one of them Sith shits, which I don't think you is, because you didn't like the subject of killin' when I was feelin' you out talkin' 'bout contracts, or you's a Jedi. I done seen enough to know you is, or were, a Jedi. You flipped that script fast on Duckets, but he didn't see that khyber crystal you gots hangin' 'round your neck, did he? Think I missed it? I ain't blind, dawg, I check out a playa's bling."

To accent his point, he tugged his thumb at two of the gold chains around his own neck. "Why you ain't with them now, that shit ain't my concern, feel me? You seriously think I'd have a problem with another Force user? Hell, dawg, you tell me what you can do, we bake some mad sick strats, homie! You know how long it's been since I had a partner who could do the shit I can do? Playa, I ain't never had a partner like that!"

[Abarai Loki]

When he initially challenged Li's claim, Loki prepared himself for some verbal sparring, just enough reason with just enough deniability to throw the curious Wah off his scent. He was at least smart enough for that, after all. What happened instead left him dumbfounded.

The opening salvo of observations was strong, yet he weathered them with patience and enough fire to respond in kind, ready to refute his claims with throwaway remarks about paranoia and coincidence. And it was a solid stance to take, for, in his experience, much of what could be explained as the Force, could equally be dismissed as the convenient conclusions of a superstitious mind. Time and again, he opened his mouth to speak, to shoot each accusation out of the sky, but the accusations kept coming, which left him stood gaping at his mentor-turned-investigator. That he'd been secretly put to the test by Li was alarming - a bounty hunter with an eye for identifying Jedi was exactly the sort of attention he wanted to avoid - and when he realised his indulgent spot of showboating with the Z-6 had not gone unnoticed, he could've slapped himself silly.

But it was the khyber crystal that was the final nail in the coffin, not because Li claimed to have seen it, but because, the moment it was mentioned, Loki checked to see if it was still around his neck. It was, much to the relief of his suddenly racing heart. Further relief was to follow, in the shape of the bounty hunter's unbridled enthusiasm. He spoke of their potential as partners. He wanted to talk strategy, of the things they could do together, and it was difficult not to get swept along with it. As all of his doubts started to crumble and break, he struggled to contain a smile.

"Seven hells, Li." He took a long breath, "Alright. I came from Ossus, where the Jedi are trained. I was a... resident there, for a long time. I'm not a Sith, of course. I'm..."

He wasn't used to this. How could he explain himself to Li when even he didn't have the answers? Regardless of his struggle, the truth was liberating, he felt it, like a weight being lifted from his shoulders with every word. And, since the astute bounty hunter had left him no quarter for retreat, he gave in at last:

"I know the ways of the Force, but I am not a Jedi. My name is Abarai Loki."

[Li Ho Fook]

Like a lotus blossom in a pond, the truth opened up, layer upon layer, revealing itself to Fook, and he appreciated its beauty for all it was worth. Silence at first, then a smile worked up his muzzle as he extended his black-furred, fuzzy paw for a handshake.

"Abari Loki, huh?" he chuckled. "Might keep callin' you Flax-dawg, we'll see. No more of this secrets shit, deal?" His paw extended further, and he accepted Loki's own in a firm-gripped handshake.

Then his grip turned to iron as Fook pulled down and rushed past Loki's side, kicking out the back of his knees to send him to the floor. Never once letting go of that hand, the Wah wrenched his apprentice's arm up behind his own back, threatening to break it if any more pressure were to be applied. Though Loki could not see the curled-lip snarl which bared Fook's fangs, it was evident enough in the voice which growled into his ear. "Because if you lie to me again, dawg, I will motherfucking end you, dig?"

With that he let go completely, and moved past Loki on his way to the cockpit. "C'mon, Abari-daw... No, that shit don't work. Flax-dawg is better. Time to strap in, we gots to jet, homie."

[Abarai Loki]

Relief turned to resentment in the heartbeat it took for him to meet the floor. And the instinct to react died the moment he felt the pressure upon his arm; he hissed with crushing futility into Li's ridiculous plush carpet. This wasn't training; he knew only too well how close his bones were to breaking. There was a poetic irony to that. It was over in an instant, with one simple warning ringing in his ears, and the pronounced ache in his arm to accentuate the severity of it. He rose, bitter at the betrayal, and at being so easily caught off-guard. And he wasn't sure which of the two was worse.

"There is nothing better about Flax-dawg. It is ridiculous." It was all the retaliation he could muster, given the circumstances. He couldn't rightly object to Li taking issue with his deception, after everything he had already done for him. His ship, his rules, and, if Loki wanted to learn how to survive in the world beyond the Jedi's walls, he had to learn to live by other people's rules sometimes. Still, he was under no obligation to be happy with being manhandled, and besides, Li's nicknames were truly awful.

After he walked off the storm clouds, he followed the Wah into his cockpit, and eased himself into the luxurious seat. He almost resented the satisfaction he felt from the crushed velvet beneath him.

[Li Ho Fook]

There was silence as Fook flicked switches, toggled levers, and strapped himself in. Waiting for Loki to do the same, he then commenced liftoff, and raindrops shattered across the windscreen as the 36th Chamber took the skies, then the stars beyond. He said nothing once they were clear of the atmosphere, simply throwing the lever to engage the hyperdrive, space stretching out before them as the small craft rocketed into hyperspace, en route to their final destination.

The Wah sat there, staring straight ahead, furry lips pursed before he leaned back in his seat, tailtip twitching below.

"You gots secrets, I can feel that. I gots secrets, too," he said at last. "Some shit's private, and I can respect that, homie, but just say so instead of lyin' to me. I don't like bein' lied to if it ain't part of the game. We gots to trust each other if'n we're gonna throw down together, dawg. That's all."

A deep breath, and he sighed, fuzzy fingertips drumming softly upon the unnatural shade of purple crushed velevet on the armrest. "I'm sorry 'bout takin' you down like that. I really am. It's just... something I take serious, and I overreacted, feel me? It won't happen again, straight word." Another pause, and he finally turned his head to look over at the occupant of his passenger seat. "So, you don't like Flax-dawg, what should I call you?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Just call me Loki," he said, with a final simmer of annoyance. It was a verbal shrug to dismiss Li's imagined social conundrum. Since he didn't have to pretend to be Igo Flax anymore, he wasn't going to pretend to accommodate pointless nicknames, either, "No Flax-dawg's, Abarai-dawg's, Loki-dawg's, or other such nonsense."

So he was still angry. The apology hadn't helped at all. It told him the attack had been an error of judgement, not just Li Ho Fook being Li Ho Fook. At least it meant there was no risk of an encore. That allowed him to relax a little in his chair, to take a breath to gather his thoughts, and reconsider the bounty hunter's words. When, at last, he started to speak, he kept his eyes fixed on the mesmerising vortex of hyperspace ahead.

"I said I was a Jedi, Li. Not a frakkin' baker. Half the galaxy thinks I'm a terrorist. The other half thinks I'm some sort of hero. I owe nothing to anyone, least of all a truth that could get myself killed."

A brief pause for him to rethink his approach, and thaw the ice in his heart. He decided to attempt to relate his circumstances to his strange companion, finally making eye contact.

"You should know what that's like, right? Being different. Is that why you left your homeworld?"

[Li Ho Fook]

A bemused snort of derision caused the Wah to rock in his seat momentarily, followed by a wide smile as he turned back to face the never-ending tube of hyperspace beyond.

"Hell naw, dawg. I left home because it was boring as," he replied. "Everyone's all xenophobic, shit's all 'do your work, study your kung fu, why aren't you married yet?' and all that. Holovision and old-ass light ships was my connection to the outside galaxy. Wanted to go see what it was like, so I did." It was all accented with a shrug as it it was the most natural thing in the world, and his becoming a bounty hunter was treated as little more than some sort of gap year abroad. "I mean, dag, I'm different now, but back then? Hell, I could have been any sucka, dig?"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki frowned in thought. It had not been the answer he expected, in that it was exactly the same story as he'd already been told. Bored native watched holonet and took to the stars. There had to be more to it than that. Li was referring to himself as being different now, with his ship, his weapons, his talk, and his bling, and, true, though it might be, that was not what Loki was talking about.

"No, different. Punching dents into durasteel doors different. Throwing Trandoshans like wegsphere balls different." His brow furrowed under the weight of a new thought, "Did you keep it a secret all that time?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook's own eyebrows, marked by a pair of little white spots, furrowed as well into what could only be described as an adorable mask of confusion. One ear went up, the other sideways, and his whole head cocked to one side as he turned to stare at Loki in an attempt to suss out what he was trying to get at.

"...why would I keep that a secret?" he finally asked, unable to determine any form of satisfactory answer as he did not understand the purpose behind the question being asked of him.

[Abarai Loki]

"Did your people not find it alarming?" Loki's disbelief became a human equivalent of Li's, contorted in equal parts curiosity and irration, one eyebrow up, the other down. He turned in his seat to face him, as if he could point out the glaring obviousness of his point, "Li, you said your people were xenophobic and steeped in tradition. How in the galaxy did they react when they discovered there was a Force sensitive amongst them!?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Ain't no shit, where I'm from, dawg" Fook chuckled. "Like, at least half of us is Force-sensitive. It's how we roll."

[Abarai Loki]

"What? Half?" Loki straightened up suddenly in his seat, as if he'd narrowly avoided a slap to the face, "As in half of all your species are Force sensitive? Wh- How!? That's statistically..."

His mind grasped at each new piece of processed information, swinging from one to the other like the Kowokian monkey-lizard, desperate to form one coherent thought. Then the sentences would follow. But what Li implied, it was unfathomable: the Wah, an entire people, half of them were Force sensitive - that was half the population of an entire planet. Before he could get too lost in wonderment, there was something else that Li said that made Loki look like he'd just tasted something sour.

"Wait. You use the Force to roll?" He imagined hundreds of little Wah, curled into furry little wheels like the Lurmen back on Maridun, "Like... cartwheels or something?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Any further mindless speculation on Loki's part was cut short by a deep, raucous belly laugh from Fook, who thew his head back against the bolster of his seat, letting his laughter get the best of him. A paw rubbed tears from his eyes as he forced himself to calm back down, and he shook his head, still nursing a case of the giggles.

"No, no no no. Not that kind of roll, dawg. It means how you do, like, moving with your life, proceed, that kind of thing," he clarified, then finally unbuckled his restraints to slide out of his seat, waving Loki to come back and join him in the main living area.

"But, yeah, they reckon 'bout half of us is Force-adept, always have been, but we don't get out so no one knows it, dig? Also why I don't tell anyone where my home is," he carried on. "My world wants to be left alone, and I don't want no sucka-ass fools movin' in on our turf and bein' all whack. And, no offense, but, no matter how tight we get as homies, fam, I ain't even tellin' you where it is. We know about the Jedi, though, and the Sith, but both can keep they religions, we got our own. Monks do that mind shit, movin' stuff, talkin' without talkin', y'now? Me? I never got down with that, I'm straight physical, 'n all that. Run, jump, hit, grip; you name it, I'm y'boy. But what 'bout you, L-daw... Loki. What you got on your resume?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I was trained in the Jedi arts from the moment I could stand. Indeed, I cannot recall a time when the Force, the Jedi, and the lightsaber were not a part of my life."

Loki took his time in answering. What Li referred to as a resume, Loki called his life. It wasn't often he cast his mind back as far as his early years on Maridun, with Barabas Tosca, and Roku. A time when everyday was a trial, and the measure of success was living to see the next one. Trials of fire, that burned away the fear of death, along with every other natural feeling. They were droids. Droids with lightsabers. And they were children, too, and in their world, there was no such thing as pleasure. Only pain. It seemed wrong to call it a life, at all.

He proceeded past Li, and made his way to the rear of the ship, where his tool box was kept. It was set on the ground, at his feet. From the chain around his neck, he snapped off the crystal and secured it in a fist. The tool box opened of its own accord, and, from it, floated a plasma lighter, an old hydrospanner, and a chunk of scrap metal. When his fingers unfurled, a bright light spilled out, bathing Loki, and the interior of the ship in an icy blue glow. The crystal, shining like a tiny blue star, drifted in line with the floating components, and in one fluid motion, they all came together. Loki took the newly-formed lightsaber in his hand, and turned it upright. In an instant, a brilliant column of light sprang forth from the emitter, filling the silence with its low hum.

"I know the ways of the Force, but I am not a Jedi." For a moment, he stared at the blade, enjoying the pleasure of its company once more. Then, with a hiss, he deactivated it, "My master believed there was a war coming, and he wanted me to be ready. I was taught how to fight, and survive. That is where my power resides. I was trained to be strong, hard..."

With a step, Loki vanished.

"And fast."

He said, from behind Li.

[Li Ho Fook]

The moment Loki vanished, Fook already started his spin, and yet the human was already there before Fook had completed his half-turn. "Fuckin' hell, dawg!" he exclaimed, eyes going wide enough that a hint of their whites could be seen. The wah glanced back and forth from where Loki had started to where he ended up, attempting to sort out what he'd just seen.

"You just..." The astonishment could not be more clear upon Fook's face, and he had to take a moment to find himself once more. Among his people, a great many tricks and feats of the Force were known, but he'd never seen anyone move that fast. Or was it even movement? Was it teleportation? Could people teleport? Blinking back into the moment, the Wah shook his head. "Dag, yo, and I mean dag! The mind-moving shit, I seen that before, but, how the fuck you blink from there to there, and yet I still caught you and had you on the floor not even five minutes ago?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Solustir," Loki answered, failing to supress a smile, "It means 'one step.' I think."

Contrary to what his grandfather had told them, years ago, the language was not of Alderaanian origin. It was a convenient fabrication, considering the planet in question had been blown out of existence. Loki had, thus far, failed to discover where the words came from and, over the course of his limited travels, was yet to encounter a single instance of its use. The translations, consequently, were only as good as his old master's word, which, in retrospect, was not very reliable at all.

"Solustir is a combination of numerous Jedi techniques that allows you to travel at great speed in a straight line. The last time I checked, one step can take me thirty paces. It takes years of practice to master."

Loki took a seat to spare Li the bother of having to crane his neck so much. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His lightsaber was turning over and over in his hands.

"When you attacked me before, I was unprepared. The Force makes me naturally quick, like you, but, in my ignorance, my reflexes were dull. Like a blade left untended for too long. Jovan Station is not exactly a suitable place for lightsaber practice."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Hm," was the only response Fook gave before crossing his arms and studying his apprentice in this entirely new light.

His own skills had taken years of mastery, focused along specific disciplines to coincide with his kung fu to the best of his ability. The thought of opening up to new talents at his current age was daunting, yet such a feat would have numerous practical applications in his line of work. At last he uncrossed his arms, hooking his thumbs into his pockets as he considered Loki again. "Y'know, some of my old masters would've given you that bull about 'you should always be ready for attack,' but that shit is whack, yo. Can't live on the edge all the time, gots to chill, feel me? Hella glad you can be chill around me, Loki. That saber, though..."

Fook looked at it, finding the construction bizarre to say the least, and he stepped forward for a closer view, then held out an open paw. "May I?"

There was hesitation as the saber fell still in Loki's hands, until a reluctant trust was offered and the saber was extended. Fook took it carefully, examining the bizarre build, and the overall piecemeal design before stepping back and firing it up. The full-length blade made him appear to be holding a greatsword, bathed in its deep blue glow. Gentle motions side to side allowed the blade to speak in its low hum, before he extended it straight ahead, then brought it back to shut it off. Flipping it over, he returned the saber to its owner.

"Dag, yo, that's a hella fine blade, but that handle is maaaaad whack, dawg," he said, shaking his head. "Tell you what, homie, I gots some parts 'n shit, we could make you a sick tight grip for that thing, make it straight fly, yo."

[Abarai Loki]

"I had a feeling you'd say that."

From the moment he saw Li's beady little eyes spot the lightsaber in his hands, Loki had been braced for it. Still, the proposal made him grin, nonetheless. He considered the weapon in his hands for a second, considering, with morbid curiosity, what gaudy horror his bounty hunting mentor would inflict upon it. It took flight, then, and disassembled itself in the air, before them. The crystal drifted gently into his palm before being reattached to the chain, and tucked safely inside his shirt.

"It is supposed to be mad whack, Li. I hide these parts in my tool box to keep from arousing suspicion. Look."

The emitter was plucked from the air. In its disconnected state, there was a small switch visible, which, when clicked, produced a small blue plasma flame. Loki demonstrated this to Li, "It's also a plasma lighter. See? That part is actually a hydrospanner. The heat sink has been repurposed from a blaster rifle. That's a thermocoupler casing..."

The components landed gently onto the table, providing Li with an opportunity to inspect them in their raw state. Loki was proud of the ingenuity of the design, even though he couldn't exactly take credit for it - that belonged to someone else. He tried not to think of Hal if he could help it. They hadn't spoken in months. Transmissions back to Ossus had gone unanswered. He was probably just too busy with his missions, or his Jedi work. Maybe he had an apprentice to think about, now. With every thought spent on his old absent friend, his smile started to fade.

"It suits its purpose. You'd have appreciated my old lightsaber. No bling, but it had a certain elegance and beauty. And this one..."

The smile returned, as he considered the ugly old parts, as if for the first time, "It's beautiful in it's own way, I suppose."

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook took his own seat at the table, taking in every word - not only for their basic meaning, but including the inflections beyond - as Loki explained his saber. There was a logic in it which the Wah could not deny; while lightsabers weren't illegal in most places, they did tend to attract unwanted attention. From his belt he fished both of his sabers, and placed them on the table beside Loki's collection of parts. They were identical, each looking very much like the blaster energy cells they were built out of, and they were surprisingly compact for the amount of equipment they contained.

Leaning back, the offer for Loki to pick one, or both, up and inspect for himself was implicit. "I feel you," he nodded. "I built those from instructions I found on the holonet. Crystals are actually two halves of a bigger one I bought and split. My people don't use these, dawg, so they was a real learning curve, feel me? Ain't never fought against one before, but I think I could handle it. Did nearly take my tail off once, though, when I was first practicing. Shaved half of one side, it was hella whack, and I smelled like burned fur for a week." A smile and laugh indicated he was well over the embarrassment of the time, however. "Lightsabers are badass, but dag, those little shits are unforgiving!" he chuckled.

"I BELIEVE I STILL HAVE HOLOPICTURES OF THAT INCIDENT, SIR," Guan Yu's voice boomed over the loudspeakers without warning, as his cheerful face appeared on the holovision. "SHALL I PULL THEM UP FOR YOU? YOU DID LOOK EVER SO SILLY!"

"No!" Fook immediately snapped, then took a breath to calm down. "Naw, dawg, that's cool, though. We good."

[Abarai Loki]

"You can show me later, Guan Yu," Loki called out to the ship, ignoring the Wah's protestations outright.

There was something so quintessentially Li about the way he'd acquired his own set of lightsabers. Made using a blueprint on the holonet, self taught, mishaps and all. It spoke of the kind of person he was: inquisitive, industrious, adventurous, and just a bit wreckless. Before he reached out, Loki first considered the lightsaber, and then Li, himself - something told him he didn't share in his unique set of beliefs about the Jedi weapon - he took one in his hand, and marvelled at its reduced size. He turned it over, testing the weight, the grip, and the balance, before turning it on. The blade was considerably smaller than that of a regular lightsaber, and the colour was particularly uncommon: yellow. It gave their surroundings a warm glow, in sharp contrast to the icy glare of his own weapon.

"It is impressive how you have achieved such a compact design. This is not unheard of," he added, thinking of Master Yoda, "But, for a non-Jedi, you have shown a meticulous attention to detail. Yes. Impressive."

The lightsaber was deactivated and returned to the table.

"When I was on Ossus, I used to teach lightsaber combat to the padawans. Perhaps you will benefit from my instruction. I promise to leave your tail intact."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Really?" Fook's white eyebrow marks went up. "That'd be tight, homie. Though, uh... maybe we ought to use some of my wooden practice stuff," he suggested, while his tail swept itself under the table. "Y'know, just in case."

He took up his sabers once more, examining one before clipping both to his belt again. "Had to learn how to modify shit, so I got good with electronics, feel me? Ain't easy bein' normal size in a galaxy full of giants."

Eyes examining the parts of Loki's saber, he then looked up to their owner. "But, what's a padawan? Sounds kind of like a popadum, but I'm guessin' you don't eat padawans."

[Abarai Loki]

"A padawan is a Jedi apprentice," Loki said, resisting the urge to ask Li about popadoms. Clearly, they were edible, and for now, that was enough. There was only so much culture-clashing he could take in a day, after all.

"It's interesting that you wish to train with wooden sabers, instead. Long ago, before we arrived at Ossus, the Jedi were ferried around the galaxy as part of a secret convoy, called the Wheel. There were few resources at our disposal, so, for many, wooden substitutes had to do. And it wasn't to everyone's liking."

The parts of his lightsaber were gathered up, and returned to his tool box at the other end of the ship. As he secured the tool box safely inside the storage compartment, again, he called back over his shoulder.

"If Guan Yu has finished creating a duplicate of his main code, can it be transferred to a datapad, please?" Rising, he took a stab at some sarcasm, "I could do with some light reading for the remainder of the journey."

[Li Ho Fook]

"OH YES, IT'S BEEN DONE FOR SOME TIME NOW," Guan Yu replied. "I JUST DIDN'T WANT TO INTERRUPT, AS YOUR CONVERSATION SEEMED MOST IMPORTANT. I'LL TRANSFER... MYSELF... TO A SPARE DATAPAD NOW."

Fook gave the holovision the stank eye. "Oh yeah, dawg. You hate interrupting, don't you?"

Guan Yu stiffened, appearing taken aback. "I BEG YOUR PARDON. YOU KNOW I HAVE SEVERAL ETIQUETTE SUBROUTINES; YOU INSTALLED THEM."

"Looks like I'm gonna have to install more, fam" Fook laughed, though he had no intention of doing so. Instead he turned his attention back to Loki. "We used wood for beginners, where I'm from, and blunt steel for more advanced students. I don't got no blunt steel, though, so it's gonna have to be wood. Mostly keep that around to maintain arm and grip strength. Maybe after we turn in robo-bitch we can find some good open ground and see what each other is made of. We ain't makin' another stop until we get where we're going; time is more than money in this business, homie. You gots information on a target, but the longer that intel goes stale, the less accurate it is, and the more dangerous your mark can be, feel me? Don't take a job until you're ready to start it, and when you do take a job, your ass is on that job until it's done. Hell, I didn't like stoppin' to get that gat, but it was a necessary evil, dig? I've bagged plenty of open bounties out from under hunters who was lazy. After you get set on the regular jobs, hit me up and I'll school you on workin' open bounties. Mad, maaaaad paper there, if you brave enough to chase it."

[Abarai Loki]

While Li talked, Loki noticed a datapad light up with activity, across the room. In what he was beginning to recognise as a common occurrence, the bounty hunter's train of thought had seamlessly jumped tracks to bring him back to the job. And, in doing so, he once again dispensed advice like it was candy. Loki ate it up; the likelihood that he would be soon putting these tips into practice was high. He rose, once Li was done, affording him a nod of acknowledgement. There was no need to cheapen the wisdom with pointless questions or obvious remarks. The datapad was retrieved and he returned to his seat. After a minute of silent study, he resurfaced.

"Li, this is going to take a while."

[Li Ho Fook]

"We gots an overnight ahead of us, so 's'all good, yo." Fook's reply was accented with a shrug before he slipped out of his seat and gave himself a good stretch, cricking both his neck and his back. "Speakin' of which, I ought t'get dinner started."

Bare footpaws made nearly no sound as they tread through the thick, luxurious carpet, until at last his toeclaws clacked upon the tile floor of the kitchenette. At the press of a button, the floor rose, taking him with it. The oven was preheated, a selection of vegetables withdrawn from the fridge before being roughly chopped, and a pot was half-filled with water before being placed upon the stovetop. Other than the portion sizes he was preparing, everything appeared to be just a normal evening for Fook, his tail slowly bobbing and swaying behind himself. Guan Yu assisted, pulling a casserole dish out from the fridge and popping it into the oven, and Fook celebrated by descending to the main floor level once more.

"So, by 'a while', how long you thinkin' dawg?" he asked before picking up the holovision remote.

[Abarai Loki]

"How long is a piece of string?" Loki muttered, not bothering to look up. His analysis of Guan Yu's base code, in all of its hideous convoluted glory, had left him dejected. Hunched double at the table, he hovered over the datapad, using his fist to keep his head propped up. It was getting heavier by the minute.

"In order to make Guan Yu compatible with a droid, I will need to strip his programming down to something more manageable, removing many of the extraneous subroutines. However, by this point, all of his upgrades are woven so deeply into his code, removing just one of them, without first studying it in excruciating detail, could result in a catastrophic failure."

Loki neglected to mention the fact that he wasn't sure what half of it all meant, and that he had resorted to muddling through the whole thing piecemeal. This was his chance to be useful, and he wasn't going to get scared off by a little hard work. His fingers prodded gingerly at the screen, and, once again, he held his breath and waited until there was an affirmative beep. Relieved, he dared to distract himself long enough to glance across the room, first at Li, then the holo screen.

"What is that​?"

[Li Ho Fook]

Fook sat at his favorite seat, having popped out a leg bolster which turned that section into something of a recliner, while a white headset with boom mic had been pulled on over one of his ears. In his paws, he held a similarly white game controller. The massive holoscreen flared to life, and the Wah smiled.

"Battlescape 3, yo!" he replied cheerfully as the title screen came up, and he quickly selected online multiplayer. The image of some super-eliete ground trooper appeared, decked out with the gaudiest accessories in the game, mostly won via achievements, including gold-plated blasters, ridiculous rainbow-mirror one-piece-lens sunglasses, and a leopard print left sleeve. If Li Ho Fook could be a 6'2", rugged, brown-haired, Caucasian human with five-o-clock shadow and a lantern jaw, the image on screen would be it. And if there needed to be anything else to cement that this was, in fact, Fook's in-game persona, the name "Gr4ndm4st3r_420" over the character's head sealed the deal.

It was but a matter of moments and flicks of toggles and buttons to find a multiplayer map, where Fook's character was dropped into a raging war zone, and the Wah was off like scalded hound - and so was his mouth. "Yo, RazzleBeast, Grandmasta's got yo back, dawg! SmackW4ffl3, dawg! Long time no see! You take snipe, I gots the front, homies!"

And got it he did. Wave after wave of enemy combatants, each played by someone else from the comfort of their own chair, crashed down upon the narrow entryway to the fortified location Fook and his apparent gamer friends held, yet they were repelled by overwhelming firepower and uncanny accuracy from the little Wah - and no shortage of trash talk.

"Aw hell yeah, Bantha_Vamp, I just fucked you harder than I fucked yo momma last night! Oooh, you like that, xXxGunhaverxXX? Have some more!" Fook grinned manically as he filled opponents with blaster bolts, constantly changing location to avoid incoming grenades, or getting overwhelmed, all while directing his teammates to things he could observe from his vantage point. Through his earpiece, further trash talk could be heard from the other end, often just as a character had been toasted by one of those gold-plated blasters, but Fook would just lauch. "Oh waaaah, Sharky_Popsicle! Why don't you go cry to your momma once I'm done bangin' her!" came one of his replies as he played on, unfazed.

[Abarai Loki]

The game was met, at first, with curiosity. That it was a warfare simulation helped to stimulate Loki's interest, and while he found the soldier's attire impractical, he appreciated the realism of the weapons in action. Graphically, he placed Battlescape 3 somewhere between less realistic than a photograph, but better than a cartoon - such was his frame of reference. The action unfolded at a frantic pace, with Li slipping from one battle to another with seamless ease. Loki's attention was split in equal measure between the spectacle on the holoscreen, and the nimble assault of paws upon the control pad - that such a simple piece of hardware could translate into such complicated actions fascinated him. He watched in silence, until the silence was broken, then trampled under Li's outrageous verbal abuse.

"I have heard of being a sore loser, but I wouldn't have believed it possible to be a sore winner... until today," Loki said, his one judgemental eyebrow suddenly crashed down in unison with the other, as Li rattled off another sexual innuendo, this time at the expense of the mother of EmperorsBlackBoner66. "Such behaviour!"

Having seen enough, Loki returned to the arduous task of picking apart the tangled nest of code that was Guan Yu. He wondered how different this version of Guan Yu would be once he was finished - if he ever finished - perhaps he wouldn't function at all. Under the renewed self-inflicted pressure, Loki knuckled down, determined not to make an ass of himself in front of his new mentor. It was just... so... boring.

[Li Ho Fook]

"Ain't no sore winner, dawg," Fook shot back. "'Cept maybe sore from bangin' all y'all's mommas last night!" he laughed. The glee which filled his face was maniacal in the extreme, fingers and claws working the controller with expert precision as he took down enemy after enemy whilst scampering across rough terrain that would have winded even the fittest of soldiers. On and on the battle raged, and on and on Fook's mouth ran, though the whole while he was smiling.

On Loki's datapad, a small, cartoonish image of Guan Yu's head appeared near the right margin, and he spoke in tones limited by the volume levels of the tablet, "IT APPEARS YOU ARE TRYING TO SORT OUT MY CODE. CAN I BE OF ANY ASSISTANCE?"

[Abarai Loki]

Once he was over the initial shock of Guan Yu's invasion of his datapad, Loki's brow knitted in consideration. Who better than Guan Yu, himself, to safely disassemble his own code? But, first, a test. With a swipe of his finger, the page climbed to a particularly convoluted stretch of code that Loki had vowed, albeit reluctantly, to return to, later. Perhaps there was no need to agonise over it, anymore. The code was highlighted with a tap - he shook his head, as he had the first time around - it just seemed to go on forever.

"There. I have no idea what it does, whether it is a part of your critical systems or if it can be removed outright. And, if it can be removed, where do I start?" Loki sighed, "You have so many extraneous subroutines. It would serve you well to have a back-up copy of your original code, in the event your programming becomes corrupted."

[Li Ho Fook]

"AH, I SHALL TAKE A LOOK!" Guan Yu replied in his somewhat hushed tone, befitting to the size of screen he displayed himself upon. His eyes moved back and forth as if he were staring down and reading something himself as the code began to color coordinate and filter itself. Soon sections began to disappear, while other sections filled in blanks, until at last the AI's avatar beamed a wide smile up at Loki.

"THERE! I HAVE REMOVED AS MUCH PROGRAMMING RELATED TO GAMES, COOKING, AND THE CLIMATE CONTROL SYSTEM AS POSSIBLE. SOME MAY REMAIN, AS I HAVE FOUND METHODS OF INTEGRATING KNOWLEDGE FROM THOSE ITEMS INTO MY OTHER ROUTINES. DID YOU KNOW THAT COOKING BACON PROVIDES INSIGHT INTO THE PROPER APPLICATION OF ASSAULT FLAMETHROWERS? T'WAS A MARVELOUS SURPRISE TO ME, I'LL SAY! EVERYTHING ELSE HAS BEEN COLOR CODED AS TO THE TYPE OF PROGRAM IT PRIMARILY IS, AND I'VE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF FOOTNOTING WHERE ONE SYSTEM INTEGRATES WITH ANOTHER. I DO HOPE IT HELPS YOU EVER SO MUCH!"

[Abarai Loki]

"That's... actually, that is extremely useful," Loki said, inspecting the elaborate extent of Guan Yu's work. He gave the small avatar a nod, "Thank you, Guan Yu."

The task, thereafter, was made simple. It was now just a matter of time as Loki, one by one, isolated each section of useless code, and removed it, using each footnote for reference. In no time at all, the process became rote, and his progress faltered only during the obscene outbursts from Li, who continued to demolish his virtual opponents with gleeful ruthlessness. Then, following a particularly vulgar string of abuse, involving one his fellow players, some manner of lubricant, and a farm animal, Loki returned to his task, only to discover he no longer needed Guan Yu's annotations. His smile lasted all of five seconds, however, for he swiftly realised it didn't make the work anymore enjoyable, just quicker. On and on, it went, line after line after line, until his eyes felt too heavy to stay open.

"What? I didn't touch your tail-" Loki snapped upright, with a start. On his cheek, there was an imprint of buttons from the datapad, and, before him - he rubbed his eyes to make sure - he saw:

"Li? What... are you wearing?"

[Li Ho Fook]

With Loki seated, Fook stared him down at eye level. "They're called pajamas, yo," he sneered. "Dag, homie, you so strapped you ain't never seen pajamas before? Or are these from them foreign channels again?"

In all fairness, Loki had every right to be confused by Fook's appearance, as his pajamas - like the rest of his belongings - were garish in the extreme. Shimmering gold satin, perfectly-tailored top and bottom separates covered most of his body, with pinstripes of deep purple which nearly matched the rug, while mother-of-pearl buttons set the whole thing off in a manner which said that money was vastly more important than taste, and taste could go shove itself in an airlock because this cost more.

The game console had been shut down, and much of the ship's lighting was dimmed, while even Guan Yu had traded in his historical attire for an old-timey nightcap, complete with tassel. "Time for bed, yo," Fook carried on. "Gonna show you how to get it all set up, 'n shit. And damn straight you didn't touch my tail, playa. Ain't nothin' without fine-ass tits gets to touch this tail, feel me?"

[Abarai Loki]

For a moment, Loki weathered the visual and aural assault in silence, blinking, as both a measure of disbelief, and as a means to shake off his fatigue enough to rise. And, once he was on his feet, he stretched.

"No offense, Li," he grunted, "But your tail doesn't do it for me."

From his elevated vantage point, he regarded the garish little Wah one more time, and shook his head in disbelief. Just when he thought Li's dress sense couldn't get anymore ridiculous, he pulls out the pin-striped gold pyjamas. What creature - fine-ass tits, or not - would even consider touching that tail when he was dressed like that? Loki froze, then, recalling exactly what had compelled him to talk about tails in his sleep-addled state. Shock crashed down upon him like icy water, waking him fully. He had to be careful what he said, in the future, and where he allowed his mind to wander.

"I completed the work on Guan Yu's code," he said, shifting gears. That was when he noticed the change in even Guan Yu's appearance, and with a hint of bemusement, he gave a nod, "I had help, of course."

He yawned, and cleared the table of the datapad, "How long do we have until we arrive?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"Gots about ten hours," Fook replied. "Enough time to get well-rested, have breakfast, and be alert and ready for mission start. Good work on that code, homie. I can build shit, but dag, I am hella whack on them computers, feel me?"

"MASTER FOOK SPEAKS THE TRUTH, I CONCUR," Guan Yo boomed, his tassled nightcap swaying. "HE USED TO FORGET THE PASSWORD TO HIS HOLOMAIL ACCOUNT ALL THE TIME! I OFTEN HAD TO REMIND HIM WHAT IT WAS UNTIL HE CHANGED IT TO -"
"Yo, G, how's about not spillin' yo homeboy's password, dig?" Fook corrected him sharply. Guan Yu promptly pinched his lips shut, realizing he'd almost performed another overshare.

The Wah just shook his head. "C'mon, lets get y'all's bed set up, feel me?"

Nudging Loki out into the main walkway, Fook reached beneath the white marble tabletop for a switch, and the entire surface began a slow, steady descent upon the hydraulic ram which acted as its core pillar, until it came down level with the base of the C-shaped banquette's seating. From the back, cushions were pulled and placed over the tabletop, affixed onto velcro straps pulled out from beneath the other cushions, to create a spacious, purple crushed velvet, button-tucked mattress - a symphony in street culture sleeping accommodations. "Now for them sheets," Fook nodded, and from beneath one of the ends of the banquette he pulled a neatly-folded set of sheets and a cashmere blanket. Before Loki could help, Fook had the lower sheet thrown over the newly-formed mattress, sheathing it in pristine white satin, and tucked effortlessly into place, followed by the top sheet and blanket. A down pillow clad in the same white satin was produced next, and set into place with all the poise and plump promise of superbly somnolent slumber.

Stepping back from his handiwork, the Wah nodded in approval, then looked up to his guest. "There you go, fam. You need anything in the night, ask G-Dawg. Playa needs his rest, feel me? Catch them Z's, yo." With a wave of his paw, the 36th Chamber's master dismissed himself back to the privacy his own bedchamber, where the sound of the lock engaging was anything but subtle.

Behind Loki, the holovision came to life, albeit in muted brightness and tone, Guan Yu's volume lowered by the ship's Sleepytime Protocol. "MASTER ABARI, IS THERE ANYTHING YOU REQUIRE BEFORE TURNING IN FOR THE EVENING? I HAVE MANY LIGHT ENTERTAINMENT PROGRAMS IN MY DATABASE, ALONG WITH MOST ANYTHING ELSE YOU MIGHT DESIRE. I CAN ALSO BREW YOU A NICE CUP OF GREEN TEA, IF YOU WOULD FIND THAT RELAXING."

[Abarai Loki]

"No, Guan Yu," Loki said, after considering the offer, "No tea will be necessary. I can barely keep my eyes open."

He undressed and climbed into the freshly-made bed. Its sudden appearance had come as a surprise, although, upon reflection, perhaps it shouldn't have, given the changeable nature of Li's ship. In his semi-conscious state, he wondered what other tricks lurked beneath the gaudy veneer. He was so tired, any flat surface would've sufficed for the night, but, as it was, he discovered his bed was anything but a rudimentary. The cool satin sheets kissed his skin as he slid inside, the cushions yielded just enough for comfort, and the cashmere embrace was soft and warm. Luxuries such as these often struck him as excessive, though he did not complain, the extra comfort helped put his mind at ease. He was in a strange place, with a strange person - people, if Guan Yu was to be counted - on his way to do something especially strange. Bounty hunting. Was it really the answer?

"Guan Yu," he said, suddenly, "Send an encoded message on the following frequency: dorn, wesk, dash, 4,5,2, dash, 1,1,6, dash, 8, 9, zerek. Message reads: 'Hal, it's been three months. Where are you?'"

[Li Ho Fook]

"MESSAGE SENT," Guan Yu replied. "SLEEP WELL." Behind him on the holovision, a pillow appeared, while an animated blanket was pulled up to Guan Yu's shoulders while he closed his eyes, and then the screen faded to black. In short order the interior lighting faded down to night mode, while audio dampers engaged to fully cancel out the sounds of the engines until the 36th Chamber more resembled a luxury hotel suite than a starship.

---

Morning came with the forward half of the interior lighting engaged, and Fook standing upon the raised kitchenette platform as heavenly smells filled the interior of the 36th Chamber, accompanied by sizzling, bubbling, and scraping noises as he worked feverishly. At last, as he closed the lid on his waffle iron, the short bounty hunter turned back toward his sleeping apprentice. "Yo! Sleeping Beauty! Time to wake that ass up, dawg! Gonna need that table back for breakfast."

Aside from the apron he wore while cooking, Fook's attire little resembled his getup from the previous day. Gone were the sneakers, the baggy jeans, the gold chains and diamond wrist-chrono, and the untucked shirt and plaid cap. In their place was a unibody suit of black leather, reinforced throughout by plates of black plasteel armor, and bearing clip points for weabgear he would no doubt don later. The only color on the suit were small touches of orange leather here and there, which matched some of his facial fur, and the rings of his bushy tail. This wasn't Li Ho Fook, the playboy. This was Li Ho Fook, the professional bounty hunter... and apparently breakfast chef.

"I said, yo, dawg!" he spoke louder. "Get. The fuck. Up, or you ain't gettin' no breakfast, dig? Got that General Tso's nuna and waffles, homie. Maple-bacon rice, too."

[Abarai Loki]

The second, more pointed, wake-up call speared Loki's dreams like an ice shard. His eyes snapped open, and, in his waking stupor, struggled to make sense of his surroundings. After a moment of disorientation, his brain caught up, and he remembered where he was. It was an unpleasant feeling, and he was surprised to find himself missing his quarters, back on Jovan Station, where there was privacy and quiet. Instead, he had a foul-mouthed teddy bear barking orders at him, clattering around in the kitchen, making - well, admittedly, the smell of whatever-it-was was delicious - making breakfast, while he had to resist the temptation to sink back into those luxurious bed sheets, and sleep again.

There had been a time when waking up of a morning was as simple as blinking. His younger self would've cast off the bed sheets in an instant, typically, at some unseemly hour, and spent the subsequent hour running. These days, his slumbers were long, and deep, and when he woke, every part of his body was heavy with blissful lethargy. Well, all, except one. Morning wood was, in all likelihood, the twisted by-product of some genetic need to procreate, hardwired into the males of every species. But, in reality, it just felt like a part of some larger cosmic joke that was short of a punchline. In either case, Loki found the trade-off wholly disproportionate, and longed for the days when he could get out of bed not feeling like a shuffling corpse.

Slowly, he shed the warm cashmere blanket, and felt the ship rotate around him, until his bare feet found the thick carpeted floor. It was a welcome change from the icy cold kiss of metal. Blinking himself into a fitting state of wakefulness, he pulled on his clothes, and started to strip the bed bare. They were going to need it for food.

"That smells incredible," he croaked, then, with a stab of guilt, "How long have you been working on that?"

[Li Ho Fook]

"This? 'Bout half an hour, yo. But I've been up for two, if that's what you be quizzin'," Fook replied. The lid of his waffle iron lifted, revealing golden-brown perfection which greeted the world with the slightest hint of steam. Snatching the whole waffle up with a pair of chopsticks, it was deposited in the oven to stay warm while the next scoop of batter was ladled over the hot grid, and the lid shut once more.

All this was done with his back to Loki. Despite his guest's slumber and subsequent somnolent sedantics, the young man's proud spike was not something Fook found terribly entertaining, nor was it something he wished to feast his beady little eyes upon, so Loki was spared Fook's gaze as he got up and dressed. Perhaps in his mid-teens, Loki had learned the sleep of the dead, and had not heard Fook wandering about the ship all morning, or perhaps the little Wah's stealth was greater than advertised, and he had made no sound. Either way, Fook doubted Loki was even thinking about such things, and instead resumed the task at paw - getting his apprentice up to speed now that he was up from sleep.

"Armor's below deck in the cargo hold," Fook announced. "Hit that shit with some night mode, feel me? No more glossin' and flossin', straight up stealth, dawg. Oh, table lift is the button right... there, you got it, dawg. Gots an hour before we's in orbit, so before we in that groove, breakfast, armor fitment, weapons checks. Then G-Dawg gets a location scan and we run plans, get on that same wavelength, feel me?"

As he spoke, he loaded up the first waffle onto a plate, then scooped a healthy serving of fried nuna chunks, vegetables, and peanuts in a savory-sweet sauce over one side, then filled a smaller bowl with mildly brown-tinted rice before crumbling perfectly crisp bacon over the top. His footpaws hardly made a sound as he hopped down from his kitchenette high-rise, plate and bowl in paw, and he set them on the table next to Loki, along with knife and fork. A second plate and bowl were prepared for himself, along with a small bowl of miniature pickles, and he joined Loki at the table, bowing his head and folding his paws in silence for several moments.

When his head came back up, knife and fork were in his paws and he started into his morning meal. "Sleep good, dawg?"

[Abarai Loki]

It was far too early in the day for his brain to manage a complete translation of Li's colourful brand of Basic, but, from what he could make out, the Wah bounty hunter had taken the liberty of painting his new armour black, which was a welcome development. The rest was easier to follow: breakfast, armour, weapons. He nodded at tactical intervals, to show that he was listening without having to use his voice.

The appearance of the food granted him a welcome reprieve from Li's verbal assault. He took a breath, and, so rich was the concoction of aromas, that he found himself revitalised without so much as a bite. Not that he hesitated, of course. He waited long enough for Li to finish his prayer, and went to work. At the first bite, there was a genuine risk of him melting and ending up a puddle on the floor. For breakfast, it was an overwhelming combination of flavours and textures. A blissful mmph escaped during the second mouthful, but Li's question broke the spell.

"I slept very well," he said, with a nod, "I don't think I've ever slept in a bed as comfortable as that, before. And this food..." A chunk of waffle, loaded with rice, and peanuts was stuffed into his mouth. He visibly sank into his seat. "It's the best! Thank you for your generous hospitality, Li Ho Fook."

[Li Ho Fook]

"Treat folks well, they'll be your friend," Fook replied. His knife and fork worked with surgical precision upon his waffle, utensils gleaming silver in his black-furred paws. "And in this line of work, you need friends, homie. 'Specially if you's tryin' to get to the top of them stairs, feel me? Just remember, the playa you stepped on to get up them stairs is the same playa you gonna run into on your way back down."

His sage, and unsubtly plagiarized advice was followed by a large mouthful, and the Wah worked away at his breakfast. Guan Yu remained quiet, the holovision screen dominated by arrival timeframe estimation, and long-range scan details while in the corner of the screen Guan Yu's animation was simply him reading a broadsheet newspaper and occasionally sipping a cup of tea.

"I'm goin' for Hunt Master, soon." Fook's words broke the silence of morning consumption. "Bein' a bounty hunter is all well and good, feel me? But when a playa hits a certain age, he wants more outta this game. Ready for that leadership role, homie. Still be in the field a lot, but also gots to keep other hunters busy, get 'em jobs what suits 'em, or call 'em in when I need someone to roll with on a big job. So, yeah, I've been generous, A-Dawg, but that's been as much for me as it's been for you, dig? You do good out there, and you go at this job, I'm hopin' you'll remember to to call your Hunt Master when the time comes. Choose wisely, and I'll make sure you get the jobs best for you, when I can, homie."

There, the truth was out. Well, the part of the truth that Fook was willing to admit to, at least. After eleven years as a bounty hunter, he was indeed ready for the next step, a move into management within the Guild. It had been offered to him three years earlier, but at the time he was still too young and seduced by the lifestyle of the lone hunter to see how golden the opportunity truly was, and had turned it down. Now, though, he wished to re-open that door, and he would need solid, dependable - and most of all, loyal - hunters to back him in order to maintain such a position as Hunt Master. Pledging to a Hunt Master was not an easy choice for a lone hunter, as it meant giving up a small cut of your earnings to them, but in return the Hunt Master's role was to find and secure jobs best suited for his or her hunters, to help them make more money, or easier money at the very least.

Fook knew the business, and he knew many of his fellow hunters. Among them there were a handful of pros who would back him, as well as a smattering of acceptable mid-tier, but it was his apprentices he needed the most support from, and why he was willing to give so much to Loki in order to ensure his loyalty. Loki was as much an apprentice as he was an investment, and Fook did not like to gamble lightly upon the market. A former Jedi would be an excellent Hunter, in his book, so he young human sitting opposite him was worth every second of time, every bit of hospitality, and every credit of gear invested in him.

Within reason, of course. It would do neither Fook nor Loki any good to portray their job as some cushy, catered flight service, and naturally Fook would need to test Loki's abilities to determine his skill level, but still, a but of buttering up never did poorly by a piece of white bread.

[Abarai Loki]

Through the rich fog of metaphor, Loki glimpsed meaning from Li's words; ambition was not a trait reserved for bounty hunters, after all. In his own endeavours, Loki's ambition took the shape of self-improvement, to be faster, stronger, better. His skills afforded him some status amongst the Jedi, and he found himself wondering if it had been something he enjoyed, or even something he cared to emulate in a future career. He knew ego to be an ugly thing, and yet, even now he maintained the respect he had expected from his Jedi peers was deserved. There had been no half-measures in Abarai Loki's climb.

"While I am uninterested by wealth, status, and prestige, I pride myself in the persistent pursuit of excellence. Alliances are important in all kinds of work. A necessity, I'm sure. But if I were to follow this path, it would not do simply to become a bounty hunter, but rather to become the bounty hunter. On principle, I can accept no less." He glanced across the table at Li, "If I am to surpass you as a bounty hunter, I would prefer it not to be because you have retired to work behind a desk."

Hunt Master was a title he had never heard of before, but the concept was not lost on him entirely. It sounded strangely bureaucratic from bounty hunter work. Perhaps Li had arrived at a time in his life where he'd prefer to take fewer risks, and reap larger rewards; that was the nature of management, as Loki understood it. What little he knew of his new acquaintance, he was quite confident that it was a desire that stemmed not from cowardice, but from wisdom. It was the same reason why young men were soldiers and old men were generals.

His eyebrows climbed in levity, "It would seem, then, that time is of the essence."

[Li Ho Fook]

The playful smirk which drew up Fook's fuzzy cheek fired off a sparkle of deviousness in his beady black eyes. "Yo, Hunt Master don't mean no desk, dawg," he advised. "Gots to still be in that field, shakin' down marks, feel me? Playa don't leave the game, playa levels up, dig?"

His breakfast finished, he pushed his plate forward while he leaned back into the purple crushed velvet of his banquette. "Okay, so there is some desk, yeah. Hunt Master watches open bounties, lines 'em up with his hunters, picks the best job for the best hunter. Matchin' skills, tactics, that shit. No random jobs, all gots to be thought out and right for the hunter. Hunters get jobs what suits them, makes them faster, and gets that paper easier. Hunt Master takes a cut, yeah, but he did work for them, dig? So, I know you is hella fly with that Force shit, I see a Force-using shitbag, I know you's the right homie for that ask, dawg, and you gets the job. That kind of shit set up while I'm rollin', like now." He waved a paw to the ship around them, set on autopilot allowing them free time.

"But you wants to be the bounty hunter? Dawg, even I ain't the bounty hunter. Steve Mayfield is the straight mack, dig? Yours truly knows when he's beat, and that playa is top of the game!" Fook chuckled.

He opened his mouth to continue, when a soft beep sounded over the speakers, and his holovision screen flashed up an arrival countdown. "Dishes in the sink, young blood," he simply smiled, hopping out of his seat and onto the thick carpeting of the floor. "Then strap in up front. Robo-bitch ain't gon' know what hit her, if'n we play this right."

That said, Fook's poofy, ringed tail lashed in anticipation as he ducked into the cockpit to take the pilot's seat.