Private A Good Memory

[Lok Xiangu]

Now...

Wild Space
Aboard the Firebird

​

There he was, sitting alone in his ship, adrift through the cold vacuum of space with a bottle of expensive Corellian Whiskey that had some of its volume emptied. The mercenary was not himself for a while, slacking in his constant state of picking fights and gaining a profit from them. He was distracted ever since he scrolled through the bounty board of the Holonet and found something that disturbed him.

Allyson
​

A wanted woman by the New Imperial Order and the Galactic Alliance, belonging to the Alliance who was in a coalition with the Imperials against the Sith Empire. She had seen her not too recently on Coruscant, both of them catching up and spending some time with each other. Everything seemed fine with her, nothing gone out of place. He worried and worried more that she did not answer his messages or holo-calls. He didn't know where to even get a hold of her, even his info brokers could not get a lead on her. It didn't help that bounty hunters were after her and he knew how ruthless and unapologetic they could be, sometimes maiming their prey before turning them in; even taking something from them as a trophy. Low valleys and high mountains he searched, but nothing.

He hadn't bathed or slept much, looking unrecognizable everyday when he looked in the mirror.

What do I do?
​

Not having an answer to this situation frustrated him the most. A vague sign would help, but he wasn't given a bone to work off of. Desperation led alcohol, and that never worked well with unstable emotions. One shot was drowned; then another one; and another; and another one; and...another...one. He had gotten drunk and wasn't behaving properly. Uttering nonsensical things that made him laugh. All the drinking and mixed emotions then brought to reminisce several memories, but focused on the good ones and then only to one that brought him a smile...

_______________________________________________________________________​

Then...

Nar Shaddaa
Corellian Sector
Orange Lady
​

He found himself constantly in Wild Space, the Outer Rim, and Hutt Space. Wherever a soldier of fortune wanted a job, it was always best to find it here...that is if they were the lawless caliber with little restrictions on them. Those that had a moral compass than their fellow peers found work in the Core and Inner Rim, enlisting in legal Private Military Companies. The difference? A PMC had less risk, some reward; a lawless mercenary dealt in contracts with high reward, high risk.

Always on the chase for the green, hardly taking breaks from it.

And Nar Shaddaa was always the right place for it. Here is where anyone could get anything. Beskar? Sure, but it’ll cost a limb or two. Always surprised him the planet never set itself on fire with all the criminals and scums walking its streets. Like Coruscant just more filthy. It’ll stand here for another century just like it always did despite the crime.

Instead of taking a stroll in one of the most prominent cities of Nar Shaddaa where there was some order and tight security, he found himself in the Corellian Sector of the planet where it was inhabited by a vast majority of Corellians. The streets reeked and littered, but the people thrived in it.

“One man’s trash is another’s treasure,” literally and metaphorically. Everywhere people hustled, there was business going around although it be illicit.

See what’s poppin’ in the Orange Lady
​

A renowned bar within the Corellian Sector, always packed and filled to the brim. Just like everyone’s glass.

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Nar Shaddaa //:
//: Corellian Sector //:
//: Orange Lady //:
//: Lok Xiangu //:

​

"What do you mean?" A voice flirtatiously echoed against the ear of one of the large gangsters that sat at the corner table of the bar. The Mandalorian looked towards the woman and grunted something. "You didn't deliver the package." He was frustrated, and despite his helmet, the woman could tell his brow was furrowed. She leaned back and adjusted the bust of her red sequined dress. "Like I told you, big guy - ran into some issues. Remnants of the old Alliance caught wind of the mission." The brunette Corellian smiled sweetly as she ran her finger down the shoulder pad of the beskar armor. ​

In reality, Allyson knew the package that was meant to be delivered was a weapon of mass destruction. How this Mandalorian got ahold of it was beyond the Corellian. Still, she needed to work out, getting the bounty hunter off her trail. He was upset, which meant that she would be in danger. Having a trail bounty hunters chasing her was something Allyson was in no mood to deal with while in exile. ​

"That's not going to cut it this time, Street Scum." His voice rose, and he stood. A blaster pulled out, and the barrel rested between the woman's eyes. She didn't look at it but at the Mandalorian. He didn't care. To him, she was nothing but a smuggler - disposable. Funny how that's a running similarity. Allyson quietly thought as she smiled and looked up at the helmeted man. "Oh, honey, it looks like your time is up." Allyson smiled and the Mandalorian, not wanting to take a second more, tried to fire the weapon. Nothing happened, and Allyson could only imagine the confusion running through the criminal's thick skull. ​

The Force exploded from the Corellian and carried the Mandalorian across the bar. His body crashed into the bar top and slid back along with it, crashing into all sorts of drinks and food. Angry patrons yelled and began to fight. Allyson smiled as she stood on the table and drove a fist into the nearest face. Using the Mandalorians' first mate as a stepping stone, she kicked his head and landed on the bar top. Another hand reached up to grab her by the end of her short dress. "Hey, hands off!" Holding the hand, she brought up her Corellian brethren and punched him hard in the nose, breaking it. ​

It was at that moment, Allyson looked up and spotted a familiar face. Happiness spread across her face as she kicked off another grabby, Corellian or Mandalorian - she lost perspective at this point. It was evident that the woman was the bar fight source, and she was in the thick of it. "LITTLE HELP LOK WOULD BE GREAT!" Allyson shouted as she took a swig of the top shelf Corellian whiskey that she could grab. The bottle emptied, she smacked it and broke the bottle over the Mandalorian thug who seemed to have found his feet as he charged towards her, wanting to take her out.​

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Would it be his lucky day to get some peace and quiet in this bar, actually enjoy a drink and whatever quality of grub the Orange Lady offered; or would it explode out into a brawl? In the luxurious area of Nar Shaddaa, there wouldn’t be as much chaos as usual. Security wasn’t a joke. There were criminals with class, and others just dirt scum.

What side of the fence he belonged to? Neither, he did jobs and networked with all classes of criminals. He didn’t belong anywhere. He tried with the Mandalorians when he was adopted, learned how to fight properly and be better than the average soldier. But all that talk of honor and duty didn’t fit for him. He was always alone, only sociable when working with associates of his. And yet, he yearned to belong somewhere. Maybe belong with someone. He had flirted with different women, but there was one that always stood out for him. One he felt at home with.

And speaking of which, there she was with a daring red dress that vibrated more than the the competitions colors in the bar. Something more elegant than the other attire worn present and would catch starstruck looks as its effect did affect Lok.

The color of Allyson’s dress matched with the situation at hand as brawl erupted, and thugs surrounding her. This wasn’t a lucky day to enjoy a drink.

But it was a lucky day to enjoy a woman, that’s for sure.

He stood up from his seat, approaching Allyson’s vicinity. He noted several armored Mandalorians attacking her which meant whatever trouble she got in was serious. He had the skills and armory to match one, but more than one required wits. Stand his ground or make a retreat. Right now he was opting the latter with Allyson, and it would be in their favor due to the angry crowd that broke out.

Two pistols were drawn out, aiming at the Corellians focusing on Allyson. They weren’t as armored as their Mandalorian associates, thus making it simple and quick in neutralizing them. They’d be dead or wounded enough not to fight.

As for the Mandalorians? He’d lob a smoke grenade that released an aerosol that could absorb blasters for some time before the smoke dissipated. Hopefully it was enough to confuse the assailants and gave an opening for the pair to escape. His helmet’s sensors located her heat signature, pushing off the Mandalorians in his way before he got to her.

“It’s me! Don’t attack!” hopefully she didn’t which would be reasonable if she mistaken him as one of the Mando thugs. “Let’s get out of here while we still can!” Without thinking he reached his hand to Allyson’s hand or arm, and would guide her out of this mess towards the only exit in this place. Being the opportunistic scum he was, he’d leave a little treat in the form of a thermal detonator to cause more chaos in the Orange Lady which would help for them to gain distance.

Allyson Locke​