Mother of Pearl
“I thought you hated places like this.”
“I do.”
“Then why are we here?”
A pair of figures crouched in the tall grasses surrounding a slave compound, a good hundred meters or so away from their target. Still, they spoke in hushed tones to be sure. Their never-ending and occasionally ridiculous quest to end slavery took the pair to the far corners of the galaxy, and it was nice to get a break from the dirty, smoked choked streets of Nar Shaddaa. Their latest venture had landed them on Scarif, currently hiding out on one of the little islands that dotted an archipelago across the vast sea. Joza had been searching for this particular place for months, knowing it to be but one piece of a puzzle in a long and purposely drawn-out route to contain and distribute slaves. The more she worked in the underworld, the more disgusted and inspired she became.
Some crime lords certainly knew how to run their business.
At times she felt like she was in over her head.
“Because justice never rests.” Came the hastily whispered response. Ivan, her dry-witted pilot ducked next to her in the foliage with a pair of macrobinoculars. “I think that was the lamest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Maybe you’ve just been working for me for too long.” She glanced over, clearly annoyed. Her skin had oiled up in a record 45 seconds after disembarking, and her hair was a damn frizzy mess from the humidity. “I should trade you in for a nicer, younger, cuter model.”
Without missing a beat, Ivan grunted. “Guard change in 10 minutes. We should make our move soon. And you know I’m the only one who'll put up with you, Perl.”
[member="Caspian Rekali"]