A Bid Farewell (Streghe Members)

[Yuri Thrice]

Coruscant...

A DL-44 Heavy Blaster lay upon the workstation table, stripped down to its bare components. Hunched over it, a young man, black hair and blue eyes, squinted through the magnified, holographic image of the components before him. He found the problem easily; the transistors were too low-grade, unable to hold the increased charge that the overloaded power blast that the DL-44 was capable of. Without even looking up, Yuri reached out and grabbed the needed transistor plate, not even noticing that it was once out of his reach, but was somehow beside his hands, right when he needed it. With the precision of a practiced hand, Yuri Thrice lowered in and sodered down the transistor plate, checking the charge once more in the diagnostic. It would do even better than before. Now that the transistors were replaced, the heavy blaster would now fire with more efficiently than before. This order was done, save for reassembly.

With another blur of motion, Yuri had the weapon reassembled in virtually no time. Not even someone who had owned and maintained a DL-44 for his entire life could reassemble it that fast. Not without some sort of help....Snatching up the bottle of Corellian whiskey, Yuri downed it in a few gulps, then scooped up his death-sticks, and lit one up. Dragging down, and letting the burn soothe him, Yuri let out a plume of smoke into the air. It had a reddish tinge to it, as did the rest of the shop. The hues came from the buisness boards across the street. Looking out of the viewing glass, Yuri shook his head. They were busy today. But his shop, A Call To Arms, was dead and empty. The shop was polished, clean, appealing, and finely displayed, with various models of blasters and weapons displayed on racks and cases. Yuri himself felt for his Dallorian-alloy-finished Westar 34's, both strapped under his work jacket. They were still there, though he knew it without reaching for them. He drew one out and inspected it again. It was finely crafted, a good thirty plus years old, and in mint condition. Thank god that his dad could keep up a good weapon or two, otherwise Yuri would not be blessed to wield such fine blasters, the same model and finishes that made Jango Fett infamous. They were modified and refitted, of course, to keep up with the times, so they could be reloaded with standard issue gas cartriges, and new wiring and working to make it even more efficient than ever, yet they were still basic components, and classics to boot. Reholstering the weapon without even looking, Yuri takes another drag of his death-stick....

....And nearly chokes on the fog that surrounds him, reaching the very core of his being, enveloping him in it. Yet somehow, Yuri felt at home....then he saw her, the beautiful woman, clad in black armor, feeding some large creature in the mists. As he crept closer, Yuri realized, with awe-stricken near-horror, than it was a legendary monster, a COMMON denizen of this world, known as the rancor....Yuri reaches again for his blasters....

...and coughs, breathing as the blur of motion brought out both Westars, ready to fire. In an empty shop, void of any noises, save for the powering down of his equipment. Shaking his head, Yuri wondered what the frell just happened. He could still see the woman, clad in black, very good looking, very fit, ample body, et cetera. And feeding a rancor..... Holstering his blasters, Yuri shakes his head.

"Jeez, Yuri. Gotta lay off the late night, naughty, horribly-written holo-skin-flicks....They're makin' ya see things...."

The Corellian takes another drag, letting the smoke rise into the air....

[Jeseth Cloak]

The door swished open and then close in a flash. A stranger had stepped into A Call To Arms. He wore black fatigues, with long sleeves that fell loosely around his wrists. His skin was pale - too pale for him to be Human - and his hair was as black as oil. "I'm looking for weapons." Jeseth said, his crimson eyes surveying the shop. He wasn't very familiar with blaster pistols or rifles, and only recognized a few of the components that littered the shop. "I've been told you're someone I can trust."

As Jeseth came closer to Yuri, it became apparent that his hands were stained with blood. "I think they were telling truth." the fallen Jedi added. Making no attempt to hide his guilt.

[Yuri Thrice]

Yuri didn't even turn around. With the various metal pieces perfectly polished, he did something that he always found himself doing; watching his back in reflections. He knew the man was there, perhaps seconds before he entered the door. Something just didn't seem right, as he mused in his thoughts, alone, and then someone walks through the door, looking pale as death, eyes as crimson as the red fluids of someone's life dripping from his hands, and hair as dark or darker than the night itself. Something seemed odd about the man, as if he were missing something. His body seemed too....small-framed to be built for....ground assault, like human bodies were.

Yuri got a quick flash of wings in his mind's eye, monochromatic, and laying on a ground, soaked with what he could only believe to be blood. He almost hummed to himself in intrigue, but kept himself focused. This guy could be trouble, but he needed someone he could trust. Yuri wasn't sure if he could even begin to take this guy, but Yuri was a fast draw; he was confident that if this stranger decided to get ugly, Yuri could at wound him long enough to get away.....but Yuri didn't play that way. He played for keeps. And when doing so, his pops, may the Force rest his eternal soul, always told him to keep a cool and level head, though it may be difficult. It would pay off in the end. So, Yuri, without turning around, motioned to a smaller room off to Yuri and the stranger's right.

"Washroom's there. Get your hands cleaned off, then get some solvent from in there and clean up any mess you leave behind. I don't like my shop being messy, and blood is difficult to clean once it sets. Plus, you know the whole "Empire snooping" thing."

Yuri merely motioned to the door to the washroom, which was currently locked. Strangely enough, it slid open with a hiss on it's rollers. Yuri looked over at it. Huh, Yuri thought to himself, it doesn't open on it's own like that, and it was locked. What the hell? Yuri continued to play it cool, wiping down his workstation, waiting for the "customer" to be finished with the task. Well, normally, Yuri would never ask a customer to clean up after himself, but when they came in with blood on their hands, obviously guilty of something to get the liquid there, it made Yuri an accomplice. And he simply wasn't going to jail over some idiot from the street....That was simply bad for buisness.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth washed the blood from his hands and watched it snake away into the sink's shadowy drain. When the blood had completely rinsed away, he stepped back into the shop's interior, and folded his arms over the counter. "So, let's talk." he told Yuri. "I'm in dire need of various Imperial-issue weapons and supplies. They don't need to be new, but they need to work, and I need to have them discretely delivered to an off-world location."

[Yuri Thrice]

Turning around, and wiping the "grime" from his hands, Yuri stepped to the counter and touched a panel. The hologram catalog of what he had in stock or could order came up, along with a visual display in full size of every weapon. Another light came from the panel, and a keyboard became visible from the very counter itself, which seemed to suddenly dip slightly for the ease of the typer.

"Well, that's an interesting order. Now why would someone with blood on their hands suddenly need Imperial-issue weapons and supplies? And what kind of supplies are you in need of? Armor, MRE's, that sort of thing? Because, if you are asking for such, you must be planning something. And no one comes into my shop, making me an accomplise, unless I'm in some way compensated for my troubles. And getting some of this gear may be a bit.....difficult. So what is in it for me, other than the credits for the gear itself? Are we talking a small finder's fee?"

Yuri's eyes lit up ever so slightly. Usually, tall and strange orders like this were full to the brim with promises of money and other relatively expensive and/or valuable payments...

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth scowled. The man was smarter than he'd anticipated. "My name is Jeseth." he said to Yuri, realizing he had been too focused on the task at hand to engage in the usual pleasantries of business. "And to answer your questions... I'm only in need of weapons. Armor won't be necessary..."

...since no one will be left alive. Jeseth finished the the statement silently.

"What I can offer you is much better than credits alone." he went on. "I can offer you land. Lots of land - and it's a growing commodity in this galaxy, wouldn't you agree?"

[Yuri Thrice]

Yuri nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes, it's the gift that keeps on giving. Of course, that's if it's land that can be turned into an asset. Some pieces of land are useless, unable to turn any kind of profit, whether its in money, or in other things that are deemed valuable, or priceless, even."

Yuri was perplexed. Armor won't be necessary... The sentence was unfinished. There was more to it than that. Information that wasn't being shared. That was fine with Yuri. The less he knew, the better off. He couldn't be as easily implicated in criminal matters.

"So, you pay in land, not in credits. That's unusual in itself. And you come in here with blood on your hands, in need of Imperial-issue weaponry. Clearly, there's more to it than that..."

Yuri was too excited to curb his curiosity. Besides, if he knew too much, he could become indispensible. Or dispensable. Either way, Yuri wasn't overly worried.