Bar at the End of the World (Open to All)

[Eralam]

Unknown World, Outer Rim

https://youtu.be/FQNFcYvILJE

Most people thought towns like this only existed in the holodramas.

The air was hot and dusty. For miles around there was nothing but desert, and not the pretty sort either. There was precious little sand to be had. The terrain was all rocks and boulders and whatever scrub brush could cling to life in the arid, inhospitable climate.

The town consisted of about a dozen ramshackle buildings running up and down the main street, which was mostly just dirt and mud and dung from beasts of burden. The buildings were either wood scavenged locally or imported preformed plastic. They had once been painted bright, cheerful colors, but the never-ending spray of wind-blown dusty had faded them to a uniform gritty brown.

Off to the northeast a little way was the mining camp, a haphazard collection of tents and shanties thrown together by the poor souls that mined the valuable ore that ran beneath the mountains here. The company paid them well, but it also owned the general store, and the saloons, and the whorehouses. The miners were little more than slaves, forced to spend the majority of their wages to stay alive and sane.

This was the town of Promise, and it was broken.

Inside the Lady Luck saloon, a lone figure sat at the bar.

It was rare to see droids this far from civilization. The ore had a way of shorting them out, and the dust and the sand made short work of what the ore couldn't kill. What was even more unusual was the dirty glass full of cheap whiskey that sat in front of it.

Most of the miners were toiling away at this time of day; the barkeep only opened this place because running it during the day meant he didn't have to go down into the mines himself. He was happy to serve a paying customer, even if it did was a droid. The massive revolver sitting on its hip didn't hurt things either.

Eralam downed the foul concoction in a single gulp.

"Another," he said, his mechanical face etched into a permanent scowl.

The barkeep complied, topping off the glass and trying not to breathe too deeply. The whiskey burned his eyes and nose, even after handling it for over a year. He didn't understand how anyone could drink it.

"So what brings a droid like you all the way out here," he asked.

"Not a droid."

"Beg pardon?"

"I'm not a droid," Eralam replied. "I'm a Shard. Droid body, living crystal mind. And I'm looking for someone."

 

[Boomerang]

[member="Eralam"]

"Aren't we all, mate?" came the voice from the left of the droid -- sorry, Shard​.

Boomerang was down on her luck. In fact, she had been for a while. Three years, to be exact.

At age 27, nothing in her life was what she'd call "satisfactory." The Sith were running amok yet, her parents, were they alive, would probably skin her, and she'd done quite a few stupid mistakes -- rookie mistakes.

And who was she kidding? She wasn't a big shot like she wanted to be; she wasn't feared, like she wanted to be. People heard her name, and they either laughed at it or looked at her with a blank expression. Notoriety? Never heard of it.

It didn't help that bounty hunting and giving tattoos was no longer a ludicrous business. Not that it was to begin with, but she was still making more then than she was now. Of course, it probably didn't help that she spent more time drinking than she did hunting.

27 years old, and already washed out. Mother of Jez. Tiola would've blamed it on Force Users, long ago, but she'd learned real quick that that was a hopeless war no longer worth fighting.

"Damn Force, and damn Universe," she muttered to herself, slamming back a shot of whiskey before waving at the bartender for another.

 

[Eralam]

"What the hell is this, bounty hunter central?" the bartender asked as he refilled the glass.

Eralam snorted.

"Place like this is great for going to ground. Sure the work's hard and the conditions suck bantha balls, but just about everyone in the camp has a record of some sort. No one much cares about making sure miners have clean records. So long as they're not thieves or did any funny business with kids, the mine bosses couldn't care less. Hell, I bet they get a kickback from some of the more notorious folks."

The Shard looked the newcomer up and down. He wasn't familiar with the species, but she looked the capable sort. Either she was after a mark, or on the run from a bounty on her own head. There were a fair few former hunters in camps like these. Either they stiffed the client, screwed up the job, or didn't realize that the mark was dead serious when they threatened to make sure they'd never be safe again.

That said, he was pretty sure it was the former. The camp bosses here were pretty strict about keeping females out of the mines, and while the miners might be lowlifes, the working girls were all screened. They were all young and docile and, if not exactly pretty, they could pass for it after a few drinks. Sure they were as desperate as any of the miners, and just as trapped, but theirs was an occupation where sticky fingers had dire consequences.

The woman at the bar was probably young, might have been pretty, though Eralam was not the best judge of that sort of thing, and certainly did not come across as docile.

He offered his hand to the newcomer, taking care to dial down the servos to handshake levels.

"Name's Eralam. Who or what brings you to these parts?"

If they were after the same target, there could be trouble. Eralam wasn't exactly a bounty hunter; his target had tried to steal from one of his agents. But that didn't necessarily mean it would come to blows. So long as the guy was dead, he didn't care what happened.

Of course, it was far more likely that they were after a different target. There were at least three notable bounties thought to be in the camp, and his wasn't one of them. The guy did have a respectable bounty, but he was a small fry compared to the others.

[member="Boomerang"]

 

[Boomerang]

[member="Eralam"]

The Jumper snorted softly at the bartender's words. "Remember who's payin', bub," she muttered.

One of the two started talking again, going on about the miners, but she only paid it half a mind. She was more focused on the droid who was obviously studying her. For a moment, Tiola thought about making the age-old quip of taking a picture instead, but decided against it. She was here to drink, not cause trouble.

And the heavens knew she wasn't here to catch a bounty.

She turned her mind back into the present when the droid thing presented its hand to her, introducing itself as Eralam before inquiring about why she was here.

Boomerang looked at the hand skeptically. Who shook hands anymore? Just businessmen and sleazy conmen, right? So why would the Shard fellow offer its hand? She was going to turn it down, tell it to buzz off-- when she remembered that it was her own fault for being involved.

Damn. Might as well be nice, huh?

The Jumper tentatively took the hand and shook it, tense for surprises that were unwanted. "Name's Boomerang. And I'm here to meander a bit before moving on." She paused, thinking. "Say, how does a droid thin like you down whiskey?"

 

[Eralam]

"Very carefully," Eralam quipped.

So she wasn't after a bounty. Or so she claimed.

"Hell of a place to pass through. I'd hate to be stuck here for too long."

If Boomerang wasn't a bounty hunter, they had no business together. If she wasn't the target or competition, she was ultimately of little use. Unless, of course, she knew something about the target.

"How long have you been here? If you know the camp, I'm in need of a guide, and my coin is as good as anyone's. Better than most, in these parts."

 

[Boomerang]

[member="Eralam"]

The Jumper snorted softly at his reply. One thing was for sure, she'd never met a droid like this one.

"It warms up to ya, after a while," she told him, withdrawing her hand. "An' if I'm sure of anything, it's that I've been here awhile."

The woman leaned back slightly in her seat, arms crossed as she pondered his next question. How long had it been? All she knew was that after the first few weeks, she'd stopped counting and focused more on building her alcohol tolerance (which was getting stronger -- now she was able to down 4 shots of whiskey before getting wasted).

"Long enough," she finally grunted. "Whaddya need guidin' to?"

 

[Eire Saf'Voak]

Sitting at the bar, cigarette clenched in his mouth, he slowly glanced over at [member="Boomerang"], an arrogant grin on his face that had the magical ability of making everyone in his vicinity want to punch him in the face. Slowly, he gripped the cigarette inbetween his thumb and index finger, removing it from his mouth as he exhaled thick, grey cigarette smoke over in the direction of the woman.

"Excuse me, the name is Eire. And, as you SHOULD know...I am rather important. I'm a reporter. Oh, and trust me-" He chuckled, shaking his head, slowly placing the cigarette back up to his lips. "...I'm well worth your time. Hell, you should be rather grateful you have the honor of speaking with me." He said, extinguishing his cigarette in a nearby ash tray, a cocky grin as he moved to take a seat next to the woman.

"I'm here for a story. Now...trust me, I wanna get outta this backwater town as much as you do, but how about you answer a couple of questions, huh? After all...I'm sure you are very excited to be speaking with me." With an arrogant chuckle, he slowly removed a pack of cigarettes, flipping open the top and plucking another cigarette, bringing it up to his lips. Quickly, he removes a lighter, holding the flame up to the tobacco, grinning as it ignites, producing thick smoke.

"I smoke Sarlacc Reds by the way. The superior, higher quality cigarette."

[member="Eralam"]

 

[Eralam]

Eralam pulled a cheap, battered pack of cigarettes from a pouch on his belt and screwed one of the twisted, misshapen things into what passed for his mouth. He lit it with a spark fired between two fingers.

"I smoke this chit, because it's cheap and tastes like cancer."

This reporter guy was begging for a bullet. He could have been on his hands and knees and asking for a lead lobotomy and couldn't have made a more convincing case for it. To keep from painting the saloon in shades of red, he turned back to [member="Boomerang"] and pretended [member="Eire Saf'Voak"] didn't exist.

"I'm looking for a guy in the mining camp. Goes by the name Two Shot. Heard of him?"

 

[Vaulkhar]

Vaulkhar sat at the far end of the bar, away from the trio currently conversing towards the center. He sipped gingerly on tea, every so often paying for another to pass the time. Oh how he hated these dusty, sandy planets way out in the Outer Rim. After two rather crazy adventures on Tattooine, the acolyte decided he'd do his best to avoid these sorts of planets. Yet, here he was, sitting at a bar in the middle of nowhere, sipping tea while two washed up Bounty Hunters and a two-bit reporter spoke of Two Shot, the very target he was searching for upon this planet. The fool had slighted the Sith apparently, and after nearly a month of tracking him down, he finally managed to catch up to him.

Releasing a sigh, he decided to speak up.

"Yeah.... I know Two Shot."

[member="Eralam"] | [member="Eire Saf'Voak"] | [member="Boomerang"]

 

[Eire Saf'Voak]

Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, an irritated face on his expression as he held the cigarette, now in between his index and middle finger as he propped his elbow up on the bar, glaring at the two. "Really? Sir, again, I am Eire Saf'Voak. A-a-a...uhm....uhh...Reporter! I'm a reporter, sir! Now, if you'd be kind enough to answer a few questions on camera, we wont edit it TOO much, and then everybody can go home! I just need you to answer four or five questions and I'll be outta here." He said, nodding at the two as he placed the cigarette back up to his lips, drawing in smoke.

[member="Vaulkhar"]

[member="Eralam"]

[member="Boomerang"]

 

[Boomerang]

[member="Eire Saf'Voak"] [member="Vaulkhar"] [member="Eralam"]

Boomerang resisted the urge to take one of her boomerang and slice through the womp rat's neck in retaliation for blowing smoke in her face. It would have been poetic...if not for the fact that she wasn't in the mood to kill.

Not yet, anyway.

Another gentleman spoke up, stealing her thunder as he mentioned knowing Two Shot, too.

And then the womp rat butted again. Oh for the love of--

Nonchalantly, Tiola withdrew one of her metal boomerangs, casually tossing it up and down as her yellow eyes appraised Eire. "Or, how's about I ask you a couple questions, luv? The first being heart or throat, and the second being burial or cremation?" The Jumper gave him a look then, one that channelled every speck of disrespect she had for folks like him --reporter or not -- and jabbed the tip of her weapon into the wooden surface of the bar top. "Now butt out, luv, before ya leave in a body bag."

She didn't have full intentions on keeping her promise, but no one could accuse her of being a bad bluffer.

That problem taken care of, she studied the other fellow for a moment. He didn't look familiar, and she doubted he knew much about the quarry.

Now focused back on Eralam, she answered his question. "Yeah, I know 'im, and probably better than that fellow. He owes me a few credits -- not much of a sabaac player."

 

[Eralam]

The big Shard gave the impression he was grinning. He couldn't actually grin, but most folks would get the idea.

"Well, that makes things interesting," he said. "I'm not after a bounty, I just need him dead. If you two are willing to bring me his head, you'll both get paid by me, in addition to however you want to split the bounty. Sound like a plan?"

The reporter guy was completely ignored. Eralam would have almost felt sorry for him, having attracted the potentially fatal attention of a lady with what appeared to be weaponized boomerangs. Those things would make for a nasty surprise in a fight, assuming she didn't go against anyone that could snatch them out of the air with the Force.

[member="Boomerang"]
[member="Eire Saf'Voak"]
[member="Vaulkhar"]

 

[Vaulkhar]

Vaulkhar shook his head side-to-side, basically ignoring [member="Boomerang"] for the time.

"I'm not after any sort of bounty. If the woman wants to be paid, feel free to pay her. A few years back the man you're looking for, Two Shot, was the middle man between a deal between the One Sith and a mining operation on Atrisia, prior to the Sith takeover. He thought it would be a good idea to take the bribes of opposing groups, which caused quite a few problems for the Sith. I'm just looking to take him down as a personal vendetta."

The man looked up to [member="Eralam"], a blindfold covering his eyes. The man was pale, with raven-black hair. He brought his hands to his head, undoing the blindfold before removing it entirely. At first he kept his eyes closed while tying the blindfold to his belt. He eventually opened them, and two gray orbs stared out at the Shard, but they were entirely empty. The gaze of a blind man. Yet the Sith was clearly capable of seeing everything around him.

 

[Boomerang]

[member="Eralam"] [member="Vaulkhar"]

Boomerang's eyes narrowed rather noticeably when she saw the man's -- well, boy, for he looked to be almost a decade younger than her -- blindfold. He was blind, which wouldn't have been cause for anything more than a snide remark about not knowing where to look...but she instead opted for studying him closer. It wasn't but a few seconds into her examination that the woman realized what she was looking for: a lightsaber.

Old habits died hard, she thought bitterly.

Scowling at the boy, Tiola threw in her own two cents. "Payment plan sounds fair ta me. As does the boy's wantin' to off the ol' man 'imself." Pulling the boomerang out of the countertop, she pointed it at him. "But ya only get one chance. Screw up, an' I'll be the one killin' him. We clear?'

 

[Vaulkhar]

Vaulkhar turned his attention to the woman speaking to him, his brow perked. It was written clear on his face that he found her actions entirely ignorant and borderline stupid. To the young man, the both of them working together would not only minimize the threat level of the target, but it also made the job quicker. He did not want to be on this dusty planet any longer than he had to, and working with this woman would surely aid him in getting out of there as soon as possible. But instead, she seemed to think it was a smarter idea for each of them to have there own go at Two Shot.

I could likely kill this woman without much thought. Those who point their weapons, rather inefficient ones at that, at a member of the One Sith are rather questionable to say the least. But it be best if I convince her to work with me.

Shaking his head slowly at the entirety of his thought process, he could not help but audibly sigh. Returning his attention to the woman, Vaulkhar shook his head more forcefully this time, motioning that it was actually to her.

"It would be a lot easier for the both of us to work together. Take all the bounty, honestly, take it. Just aid me in killing the man so I can leave this forsaken planet and be on my way back to Coruscant."

[member="Boomerang"] | [member="Eralam"]

 

[Eralam]

Eralam nodded.

"However you two want to work it out, that's cool with me. Just bring me back his head."

Meanwhile, in the camp

Nat "Two Shot" Minais was not happy with his lot in life. He'd been something, ya know? He'd done things. Made a fortune selling bad info, and getting the hell out before anyone caught on. All he had to do was move from planet to planet before anyone realized his scam.

And then, in under a month, he'd run afoul of both the Sith and these crazy Force using droids that had nearly done him in. Now he was stuck here on this miserable backwater, toiling day in and day out in the hellish mines. He knew he was stuck until he could scrape up enough credits to buy his way offworld. The mine owners paid well enough, but between the food and the ridiculous rent he paid for "housing" in this tiny tent he shared with three other people, there was barely enough left over at the end of the month to go blow off some steam in town.

That's how he made his way into the fighting pits.

In an old abandoned strip mine outside of camp, some enterprising miners had got together and formed a fighting league. Every Wednesday, anyone not on shift would sneak out to the mine in the evening. Anyone with even a shred of skill was allowed to fight. Anyone without the skill or the intestinal fortitude watched and placed bets.

It was a good racket. The organizers made money hand over fist. They didn't charge admission, but they dig require that all bets went through the house, and they got to take a cut. The fighters were paid out of the bets, and the higher the pot, the higher the pay.

At first it was bareknuckle boxing. Two Shot wasn't much of a fist fighter, so he tried to stay clear of it. He made a few extra credits every week off his talent for picking out the underdogs with a chance, but never enough to do more than put a little bit back towards getting off planet.

And then the organizers had decided to allow fights to the death, and things had really taken off.

The camp managers had been reluctant to sign off on something like that. After all, if they lost too many workers, how were they to turn a profit? But the fight organizers had been smart. The only ones allowed to fight in death matches were those who already had a death mark on them, and the managers would also get a cut.

It was a hit, and Two Shot was their first star.

His talent, from whence he had derived his moniker, was a trick shot with a blaster: fire two shots so rapidly that, if the bolts hadn't been plainly visible, no one would have been able to tell he hadn't fired only one.

Last night had been his sixth win. The Weequay that had gone against him had apparently thought it was a trick. The big alien bastard had opted for a pair of knives, determined to close the gap before Two Shot could even draw his blades. Two Shot had taken both his hands off at the wrist before the echoes of the starting siren had even faded. After that, it was just a matter of pleasing the crowd.

Two more fights, and he'd be able to make his way off planet.

The short human male rolled out of his bunk at half past 11 the morning after the fight. The managers always gave him a day off after a win, and truthfully, he would probably still be asleep if it wasn't so damned hot. He hobbled over the the water basin, his head pounding from too many free drinks, and splashed water on his face. The water was lukewarm, but compared to the boiling heat, it might as well have come from a glacial spring. His shoulder length, dirty blond hair framed a delicate face that could have belonged to a woman.

That it actually did was of no consequence to anyone in the camp. Two Shot had long since altered his vocal chords to produce a deeper tone when necessary, and was skinny enough that no one really noticed secondary sexual characteristics, such as breasts or hips. He made a point of showering during the night, when no one was around, and he'd been calling himself "he" for so long that the idea of thinking of himself as a female just seemed wrong.

It wasn't that Two Shot thought of himself as transgendered or anything, far from it. He enjoyed those rare moments when he could drop the act and be himself, but he had learned long ago that down that route was a fate worse than death for the unwary. Women in his world rarely amounted to more than prostitutes or victims, and that was not what he was destined for. Two Shot was destined for greatness, and he wouldn't stop til he got there.

[member="Vaulkhar"]
[member="Boomerang"]

 

[Eire Saf'Voak]

Staring at the woman, he swallowed slightly. Quickly, he nodded several times, holding the cigarette in between his index and middle finger as he quickly pulled himself out of the chair. "Alright. I'll...I-I'll just be on my way out." He nodded several times, slowly spinning around and shuffling over to the door, placing the cigarette back up to his lips as he spoke nothing but muttered profanity.

Pushing open the entrance of the bar, he stepped outside, quickly tossing the cigarette on the ground, extinguishing it with the heel of his dress shoe, shaking his head as he proceeded to exit the bar.

[member="Boomerang"]

[member="Eralam"]

 

[Boomerang]

[member="Eralam"] [member="Vaulkhar"]

Like it always did when her home planet came up, the mentioning of Coruscant sent a twinge through her heart. Tiola would never forget what the Sith had done, nor would she forgive them for the deaths of her parents, but the rage had abated enough that she was no longer some cocky punk with an ego the size of the galaxy.

In any case, it also added to her suspicions on the boy's origins.

Boomerang let out a sharp bark of laughter at the boy, mostly to cover her true feelings. "Ya call this planet forsaken, yet ya want ta go ta Coruscant? Youth these days!"

She paused to watch that [member="Eire Saf'Voak"] take a hint, pleased that she still had it. Turning back to the blind kid, she added, "Let me clarify, kiddo. I ain't saying I won't work with ya, I'm saying I ain't going to tolerate any screw-ups. Don't care if ya kill him first, I'm just gonna make sure 'e is dead."

 

[Vaulkhar]

Vaulkhar's gaze swept over her coldly at her sudden twinge. As he read her emotions through the use of the Force, a grin crept onto his pale face. She was not frightened or curious, of that he was sure. But her sudden reaction to Coruscant made the young man realize the caution in her action. It isn't surprising that a Bounty Hunter, one so far out in the Outer Rim for that matter, would not be fond of Coruscant. The One Sith were the most powerful group within the Galaxy, and many bounty hunters would tend to end up on the bad side of the Sith. Shaking his head, Vaulkhar stood up and pointed towards the door.

"I suppose we should get going."

As he strode towards the door, his robe kept all weapons and items hidden, aside from the obvious pouches upon his belt. The young man strode forth with a purpose, but he kept a casual pace to allow either of them to catch up if they so decided to.

[member="Boomerang"] | [member="Eralam"]

 

[Eralam]

It was barely noon, and already the sun had scorched the atmosphere of this Force-forsaken planet to the point that anyone topside was likely regretting their life's choices. If there was one thing that could be said for the mines, it was that they were cool. Sure they'd start to heat back up again as the day's work pumped the heat from hundreds of bodies into the stale air, but every hour the massive fans would push the old air out and pump in fresh, refrigerated air in its place. The ore would fry them if left on for too long, or so the bosses said, but even the brief respite they brought was parsecs better than roasting out here on the surface.

On the other hand, Two Shot didn't have to worry about the backbreaking labor part, so he considered it a win that he had the day off. He shimmied into some shorts and a shirt that would do the bare minimum to preserve his dignity and identity, strapped on his gunbelt, and headed out. The belt was equipped with a portable UV shield that would protect his bare skin from the worst the sun could do, though enough got through that a tan was inevitable. Like most of the meager luxuries Two Shot had managed to procure, it was a prize from the fighting pits. Regular miners could never afford something like this, even if it was cheap and somewhat unreliable.

The fugitive decided to head into town to see if he could find a drink. His head was pounding, but a little hair of the nexu worked wonders for a hangover. All he had to do was make it there before the piercing rays made him gouge out his eyes. The shield worked well enough against UV radiation, but it was useless against the visible spectrum. Right about now, he'd give someone else's left nut for a polarizing filter to go on it. Hell, some sunglasses would be nice.

It took about a half hour of walking to reach the town, and between the heat and the hangover, Two Shot was pretty miserable. Something stopped him on the outskirts, though. His instincts were on fire. There was something off, and he would do well to proceed with caution.

[member="Boomerang"]
[member="Vaulkhar"]