Alkor Centaris
Son of Liberty
@Aika Kawakami
A wing of starfighters screamed across the sky of Taris as they celebrated in grand fashion.
While most of the planet remained underdeveloped, the civilized area was starkly urban in contrast. Skyscrapers stretched toward the orange sky as night gradually took hold, but no one seemed to take notice. All eyes were eagerly set on the Swoop bikes as they geared up for the coming race. Alkor rarely deigned to join in these things, and today was no different. Today, he came to collect on an old debt.
"Centaris?" The skeptical voice turned to terror as the Fierreran male brushed a lock of silvery white hair out of his eyes, which shifted hard to the left. "No one mentioned you were coming to Taris."
"Damn shame," the Dark Jedi took a step toward his old acquaintance and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "You should hire a better intelligence network when you're fat off another man's credits. Your loss." The lithe man met Alkor's own gaze with a degree of caution and held up a warding hand. "Where's my money, Dazzak?"
"Invested," insisted the gold skinned humanoid. "I was expecting a bit longer, I would have had it for you by now if-"
"Five years?" Alkor leaned closer and his voice dropped to a hiss. "You spend my money around the hoodwinked galaxy for five kriffing years, and you have nothing to show for it? What kind of investments were you making? Nothing lucrative, I imagine."
"Very lucrative," Dazzak whined. He pointed toward the track, where the Swoop bikes were beginning to prime their engines. "I bet on the races. Every time I take in the winnings, I double it, and I can repay with interest."
"Except you don't have the money now. Tell me, how much have you managed to make on this little scheme of yours."
The Firrereo held up a few fingers.
"Are you f-" Alkor seethed and turned his gaze toward the race. "You could have bought the entire track and charged admission for the amount I gave you. What made you think that betting was a better plan? Are you simple?"
"He has a gambling problem," a female Twi'lek smirked as Alkor turned to face her, and he stared blankly. "You're never going to see that money again, Corellian. You really should have known that." Her full lips twisted into a fit of hysterical laughter as the glowering man rounded on the unfortunate debtor.
"You have one hour," Alkor spat. "Come up with my money, or I'm going to sell you for parts. I hear Firrereo goes for a pretty price on the black market."
Dazzak shrank to the ground, white as a sheet.
Alkor turned to the Twi'lek woman. "Where can I get a drink?" She simply pointed off to one side, and the unhappy man headed toward ale.
A wing of starfighters screamed across the sky of Taris as they celebrated in grand fashion.
While most of the planet remained underdeveloped, the civilized area was starkly urban in contrast. Skyscrapers stretched toward the orange sky as night gradually took hold, but no one seemed to take notice. All eyes were eagerly set on the Swoop bikes as they geared up for the coming race. Alkor rarely deigned to join in these things, and today was no different. Today, he came to collect on an old debt.
"Centaris?" The skeptical voice turned to terror as the Fierreran male brushed a lock of silvery white hair out of his eyes, which shifted hard to the left. "No one mentioned you were coming to Taris."
"Damn shame," the Dark Jedi took a step toward his old acquaintance and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "You should hire a better intelligence network when you're fat off another man's credits. Your loss." The lithe man met Alkor's own gaze with a degree of caution and held up a warding hand. "Where's my money, Dazzak?"
"Invested," insisted the gold skinned humanoid. "I was expecting a bit longer, I would have had it for you by now if-"
"Five years?" Alkor leaned closer and his voice dropped to a hiss. "You spend my money around the hoodwinked galaxy for five kriffing years, and you have nothing to show for it? What kind of investments were you making? Nothing lucrative, I imagine."
"Very lucrative," Dazzak whined. He pointed toward the track, where the Swoop bikes were beginning to prime their engines. "I bet on the races. Every time I take in the winnings, I double it, and I can repay with interest."
"Except you don't have the money now. Tell me, how much have you managed to make on this little scheme of yours."
The Firrereo held up a few fingers.
"Are you f-" Alkor seethed and turned his gaze toward the race. "You could have bought the entire track and charged admission for the amount I gave you. What made you think that betting was a better plan? Are you simple?"
"He has a gambling problem," a female Twi'lek smirked as Alkor turned to face her, and he stared blankly. "You're never going to see that money again, Corellian. You really should have known that." Her full lips twisted into a fit of hysterical laughter as the glowering man rounded on the unfortunate debtor.
"You have one hour," Alkor spat. "Come up with my money, or I'm going to sell you for parts. I hear Firrereo goes for a pretty price on the black market."
Dazzak shrank to the ground, white as a sheet.
Alkor turned to the Twi'lek woman. "Where can I get a drink?" She simply pointed off to one side, and the unhappy man headed toward ale.