Private Another Desert

[Zad Ruzed]

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Spoiler: Music OOC

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The suns of Tatooine were up, mountains on the horizon, like a picturesque painting.
He was no poet, the man who gazed yonder, though he knew beauty when he saw it.
It was no Mos Eisley, this settlement, hardly a city, yet Mos Maran was like its brother.
Distant cousin maybe, far away. Who cared, anyway? Under both suns, another desert.

He stood outside a building, wind blowing against his coat, lapping at the jacket’s flaps.
A desert wind, curved with dirt and dust, sand blown up in a gust, and calm just as quick.
It was a nice breeze while it lasted, like a fling that would go nowhere, like one last stand.
One last dance, maybe, the man mused as he blew smoke between his teeth from his cig.

It was late in the afternoon, and for some that meant too early to drink, but not this old man.
But he wasn’t drunk. He'd just had a few sips of whiskey, and then some. Cantina at his back.
Its entrance was right behind him, in fact, with laughter from a few patrons walking in or out.
He didn’t pay attention as he listened to the wind, watching the distance, a desert all around.

Surrounding the town, the lone Ranger was surrounded by buildings and people and vehicles.
Just another day… He sighed out a cloud beneath that vista blue sky. And just another desert...
Mother and son across the street. One man walked out the gunshop with a new scatterblaster.
Hotel, hospital, market on the left; mod shop, utilities, bank on the right. Everything was typical.

He flicked his cigarette, didn’t watch where it landed, and moved from his spot, walking forward.
He straightened his coat, felt dirt crunch under boot, passed folks by going nowhere in particular.
The Ranger strolled through the street, squinting beneath the sunlight, with no hat atop his head.
Another rather lovely thing… A lover once said in a sunlit bed, holding his head. Gone…Zad Ruzed...

Qwalls

 

[Qwalls]

Location: Mos Maran, Tatooine
Tags:

Qwalls had been aimlessly wandering the streets of Mos Maran. He was trying his best not to monitor his communicator to keep tabs on his team. They said he was acting out of sorts and needed some time away. Qwalls didn’t believe in vacations, so he made his way out to the Outer Rim to see if he couldn’t put down some other trouble while he waited for his superiors to come to their senses and let him clean up things at home. Qwalls’ methods might have bordered on extreme from time to time, and sure he might have been a bit more harsh of late on the criminals his team was tasked with hunting down. But it’s not like he killed any of them. They all made it to prison, no matter how much Qwalls thought the galaxy would have been better off if his targets ended up in the morgue instead sometimes.

Mos Maran was small and out of the way, but big enough that there were likely problems buried under the surface. From his arrival this morning until past his midday meal, Qwalls hadn’t figured out who he should make the target of his “vacation”. Still he loved visiting a world that allowed him to openly walk the streets with his pistol on his side and scattergun on his back with the only looks being those of fear or respect. The lack of an obvious target was becoming irritating which meant it was time to make his way to the local watering hole. If things went well he’d find a criminal worth putting down. If not he’d start his evening of drinking and continue his vacation in the morning.

As he approached his destination Qwalls saw a dark skinned man in a coat smoking a cigarette. He looked the man over and he honestly couldn’t decide if he was trouble or a fellow law man. Qwalls stopped and gave the man a nod. ”From around here?,” the cyborg Special Enforcement Ranger asked. ”I’m a visitor. Hoping maybe to see some action while in town. Thought you look like the type to know where I can find it.”

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music OOC

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Zad had been aimlessly wandering the streets of Mos Maran. Above him, the galaxy spanned, there beyond the blue illusion called a sky, hiding infinity. Damn, Zad… He blew smoke through his lips. You really oughtta give up the poetry, pardner… To be fair, the Ranger's blaster was generally more descriptive than his words. Slapping the cuffs were his gift—and then some.

Zad’s methods might have bordered on the extreme from time to time, and sure he might have been a bit more harsh of late on the criminals he was tasked with hunting down, but it’s not like he killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. They all made it to prison or the grave one way or the other.

Then again, no matter how much Zad thought the galaxy would be a better and safer place without such scum, it never really was. It was like the dust, blowing into nothing. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Another day. Another desert.

An old man sat on a porch in a rocking chair to his left, and that mother and son were keeping pace with him on his right, and all three were truly as oblivious to each other as they were to that desert.

Before him, walking toward him, if just as purposeless in direction, was another man. He gave a nod, ‘hello’ in a gesture, but just as much in an effort to acknowledge the other feller, so the Ranger stopped his walk and watched the stranger.

“Howdy.” Zad offered as he shifted his cigarette to the other side of his lips. “That a fact?” He smiled instead of laughed, amused in truth that he looked like the type who might know where to find some action.

“Welp.” He pointed leftward. “Cantina’s over there, Sal’s Lune. Good whiskey. Rude gals too.” He nodded yonder. “Golden Corral. Rowdiest dewbacks in town.” Zad flicked ash. The other man’s appearance didn’t need convincing. “But you look like the type who—”

-PHWOOM!-PHWOOM!-PHWOOM!-

Zad snapped back toward where he'd pointed for the bar.
There was no mistaking it. Those were three blaster shots.
“C’mon, ya yeller-beller’d fellers!” A man’s voice boomed.
“Ya bantha-headed nerfherders! Ya ugly as burnt boots!”

Qwalls

 

[Qwalls]

Location: Mos Maran, Tatooine
Tags: Zad Ruzed

Qwalls couldn’t help a smile when the man spoke up. The cybernetic lawman hardly ever let a stranger see him smile, but he hadn’t expected a “howdy” to come from this one. The man didn’t look local, but looks were often deceiving. Qwalls was quickly able to catch his own mirth and buried it to hear the rest of what the man had to say. The man pointed to the cantina. His description of the place was right up Qwalls’ alley nowadays. In the past drinking and rough women weren’t Qwalls’ thing. He was an upright soldier doing his duty. Now with his wife gone and his daughter grown Qwalls was either putting down trouble or getting into it. The latter not to a degree to threaten his position doing the former most times, but drinks leading to brawls and/or one night stands were part of life now for the Special Enforcement Ranger.

Bucking dewbacks wasn’t really on par with the kinda trouble that Qwalls was after, but the stranger seemed like he was about to mention another option that was more catered towards Qwalls’ wants. The thought was interrupted by blaster fire however which caused Qwalls’ hand to instinctively go to his pistol looking at the stranger to make sure that he was hearing the same thing. Whatever the sound was, it had gotten the stranger’s attention as well.

”Sounds like I’ve found my action,” Qwalls stated with a chuckle. ”I’m going to go see what I can do. Name is Qwalls by the way. Rimward Ranger Service. You coming along. Or did I get the wrong sense from you?” As Qwalls asked he pulled his blaster from its holster, but continued to hold it at his hip as he turned and started off towards the cantina.

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music OOC

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Action. One word. Two syllables. One person had found his. Another person had found his too.
“Do. Done. Did.” Zad responded on account of doing something about that blaster -PHWOOM!-
“Zad.” He didn’t flash a badge. “Zad Ruzed.” Cig between teeth. Qwalls got no wrong sense at all.
“Sector Ranger,” Zad offered, pulling his blaster from its holster. “Let’s go have ourselves a brawl.”

Only this wasn’t one for fisticuffs and then some. The pair of rangers moved toward the cantina.
They moved as two, they moved as one. One was named Qwalls by the way, the other was Zad.
It didn’t matter who put an end to this attacker, or in what way. This wasn’t some simple novella.
This was the way, as the Mandalorians say, or whatever. The last shall be first. The first shall be last.

It made sense in Zad’s head, anyway, as he ran toward the commotion, galloping like a steed.
Toward the blasterfire, that hell and hail. Well, a few bolts paled in comparison to his dealings.
Ranger Ruzed had met his fair share of bolts and blows and then some, as reckoned to him.
Whatever shithead and kriffdick thought coughing his blaster was funny—time for business.

Cantina was dead ahead, but the shots had gone off, not in the street, but down in an alley.
“All ya kriffin’ sons o’ bitches!” -PHWOOM!-PHWOOM!- “I’ma give ya lambastin’ of a beatin’!”
“Go left!” Zad said, didn’t really command but didn’t really give a damn. “I’ll take the other end!”
Both rangers would better their chances by dividing and splitting up, whether it might mean death.

Zad wasn’t one for math. What mattered to him was putting an end to this dipshit of a shooter.
Wasting no time, oblivious to whatever his companion might cry, or silent, he went to the right.
Cutting down an adjacent alleyway, the Sector Ranger intended to pin the shooter both sides.
Slamming his back against the wall, he figured Qwalls might lead, talk the shooter down first.

Otherwise?
Good night.
And goodbye.
Nobody will cry.

Qwalls