Double Blind Business Meeting (Juwiela)

[Watcher Three]

This was a relatively familiar scene. Watcher Three stood on the same observation deck of the same station above the same planet full of Twi'leks: Ryloth. He always took almost the same spot on the deck, and always held the beer bottle in his left hand, waiting to grab at any of half a dozen hidden weapons with his right. Above all, he was just as blind as ever.

Except this time... he was a tiny bit more blind than usual: blind to who he was dealing with, as well as who had actually hired him. On the other hand, though, nobody could know who he was unless they directly spoke with his personnel. And nobody, even in the Vitae's higher ups, had direct contact with his personnel unless it was through him.

Basically, this deal was going to be a double blind, and double blinds were nothing compared to the power of idiotic wordplay.

[member='Juwiela Melec']

 

[Juwiela Melec]

Spoiler

"Less witty than usual", sure.

It had been awhile since Juwiela was able to fly for purposes that were more or less leisurely, instead of engaging in dogfights above the same planet she had fought above to defend beforehand from the same enemy. No, this time she was a fraction more relaxed, not being in a combat environment. But she had developed the habit of consistently checking her ship's sensors, operating through her own uniquely developed system of beeps and chirps, as a side-effect of the stressors that accompanied prolonged exposure to battle scenarios. It was her own way of coping with the paranoia that seemed to always accompany her whenever she was flying for any prolonged amount of time. Such was the life of a soldier, and one still in operation no less.

Snapping herself out of this reverie she focused instead on landing her starfighter, this time on a space station above Ryloth instead of a command ship among a fleet of vessels meant for war. A different venue than she was used to, but it sufficed. The landing gear engaged, the ship settling with a quiet thud. Almost immediately she began shutting down all unnecessary systems, hands moving seemingly of their own accord through motions that had been repeated countless times before in hundreds of different circumstances. Only then did she loosen and remove the safety straps that secured her to the seat, unzipping her flightsuit to reveal her street clothes, a military-esque ensemble all told. Setting her helmet on the floor by her feet she ran her fingers through her hair, climbing from the cockpit.

One hand reached up to adjust the wrappings that disguised empty sockets, studying the structure and individuals about her through her own unique version of sight. This was finally a chance to do something other than get shot at.

[member="Watcher Three"]

 

[Watcher Three]

Watcher blinked hard as the alert from the Spyglass came. Small ship, fighter-sized, dropped into the same hangar as the Typhoon Squadron's flagship. The blue-haired droid stepped away from the window, and began walking towards the door that led down towards the hangar. His hand strayed down to the combat knife sheathed at the back of his waist as he slowly advanced and... was whistled at? From the breathing pattern and lack of midichlorians, Watcher guessed the six men standing in the way of the hangar gate to his ship.

Letting go of the hilt of his knife, and calmly taking a sip of his beer, the Typhoon Commodore shook his head at them. The man farthest from Watcher said, "Now, now, Commodore. Wouldn't want to have us a fight, would we? Keeping that face of yours pretty for your women is important, no? Why don't we just step off quietly, and you give us that pretty knife of yours. Oh, and maybe that beautiful coat. Gotta get something for my girl, yeah?"

And now Watcher grinned broadly, finished his beer, and threw it full-force at the man who'd just spoken. The glass shattered over a cybernetic eye, and the huge man came up bleeding from his face and shouted, "Alright, you stinking pretty boy... Get 'im, gents!"

Watcher drew two of his long-bladed combat knives, his grin turning to a somewhat more sinister expression of enjoyment. He leapt up, ricocheted off the wall, and landed with his knives digging into one thug's shoulderblades. He pulled them out and felt bones snap as he used the man as a launching point to the man with the cybernetic eye. He whispered to the man, "You wanted the knife, huh? I do agree that it's very pretty."

[member="Juwiela Melec"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

For Force's sake. Juwiela couldn't help but sigh at the unmistakable sounds of combat that resounded from the entrance of the hangar. A part of her was half-tempted to remain by her ship, allowing the situation to remedy itself without any intervention. It would be much easier for both her and any others involved to simply look the other way and let things transpire as they would. But if she was content to do that every day of her life, she would have never joined the Rebel Alliance in the first place. No, she was one to act, regardless of what detrimental consequences it would inflict on her. It was how she'd made it this far, and as Commander of the Starfighter Corps nonetheless.

So she would act, if just to sate her own natural instinct when it came to assisting others, regardless of whether they really needed her help or not. She was military, and therefore qualified just a bit more than some others to handle these scenarios, in her mind. With a fast and yet clipped pace she strode to the open doors that separated the hangar from the rest of the station, not bothering to announce her presence. Allowing her actions to speak for herself, as she always did, she drew her blaster pistol from its holster low on her hip, the safety flicking off with an audible 'click'. Leveling it at the chest of the man that had started the fight, she spoke, "I'd rather not have to shoot someone while I'm on leave. I suggest you kark off."

No one was to say that she wasn't bluffing about killing him, which she was, but she wouldn't hesitate to wound him if it proved necessary. Certainly, she was capable of taking life and had done so in the past in the line of duty, but she wouldn't do it without a very good reason. And this wasn't one good enough. But she was perfectly capable of making herself seem more deadly than she was, such was the case now. Hopefully the man would buy it, because she wasn't in the mood to prolong things.

[member="Watcher Three"]

 

[Watcher Three]

Watcher looked away from his target for a second to turn towards the young woman with the blindfold-ish thing around her head. She'd just walked out of the hangar and pointed a gun at the man he was about to stab in the chest. He looked at her and... once again blinked. He could hear the low hum of the power pack from the gun, and heard the man with the cybernetic eye hyperventilating. No wonder. Either the Typhoon Commodore was going to stab him, or the woman was going to shoot him. Not a great choice.

And the HRD was going to make that choice for him. He stabbed the man in the gut and shoulder, and let him bleed. The slightly crazed smile did not go away, and he said, "If you try to attack me, steal my things, or hurt my crew again, I will find you. And your associates will bleed like you are right now. Now leave, or I will make your wounds far worse."

The rest of the men ran away, leaving the bleeding man to crawl away, and the already dead man on the ground. Watcher now turned back to the woman with a bit of interest. She had the cloudy nimbus of a Force user about her, and he got a little bit more interested. And so... conversation, "You didn't have to do that. I might've had to kill a couple more of them, but it would've worked out okay."

[member="Juwiela Melec"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

Only once the men had left did Juwiela click the safety back on and holster the pistol, tugging at the flight jacket she wore, almost as if she were cleansing her hands of the feeling that the grasp of the blaster had elicited. A quiet sigh hissed from between her teeth, and she looked back in the direction of her ship for a moment as if discerning whether or not it would remain in place. Ryloth used to be a planet under governance of the Alliance, but now things among the ragtag group of freedom fighters had changed, and their control had become lax. There wasn't any saying as to what reaction the name of the Rebel Alliance would garner, but she wasn't willing to take that risk. Another fight wasn't necessary.

"I don't have to do a lot of things. Wouldn't be where I am right now if I didn't do things that weren't necessary." Nor would she have been on this particular station either, and the interaction previous wouldn't have transpired. But it wouldn't do good to think about that now. She wouldn't have wanted her life any other way, despite the lingering effects of PTSD and the other stressors of combat that had accumulated. "Name's Juwiela Melec." Maybe he'd heard of the name, maybe he hadn't. If he'd been keeping an eye on the bounty board in the past he likely had. That had gathered a bit of notoriety, and too much of it, in her mind. If he hadn't heard of her, it was all the better.

From her ability to see him, or rather unable to see him, she was already aware that he was a droid. But that was of little issue, in the grand scheme of things. Instead she turned her attention to the snippets of conversation she'd overheard before. "So, Commodore, huh? A pilot, then. Not bad. I'm Commander of the Starfighter Corps in the Rebel Alliance, if you've heard of us." Enough of a name had been made above Geonosis both times, not to mention the other, smaller battles fought in the name of freedom. "What'd you do to tick of your friends back there? Can't imagine it was anything too horrible. They only wanted you dead." Sarcasm at its finest.

[member="Watcher Three"]

 

[Watcher Three]

Watcher smiled and hopped up onto a ledge that ran a little more than half-way up the wall. Probably meant for heavy cargo on miniature repulsor carts, from the fact that it was very solid under his weight. He sat cross-legged and shrugged at Juwiela, even though he had a suspicion that she couldn't see him. Of course, he could see her pretty well. The midichlorians in her body showed her shape, if not her actual features or what she was wearing. He returned her greeting, "I'm Watcher Three. Commodore of Typhoon Squadron. I do wish that you being the Alliance's highest ranking pilot impressed me more. The fact that I harbor no real shock or awe towards that title is definitely not your fault."

He laughed and shook his head. He did believe her, and he had heard "Melec" before in relation to the Rebel Alliance. Before he finished talking to her, he hit the comm on the collar of his jacket and spoke to Byaela, "Make sure that that fighter you alerted me about is protected. Anything other than me, the pilot, or her droid comes near it, shoot it into slag."

The commodore now turned back to Juwiela and his grin turned into a small smirk as he thought of his ambushers. They'd been both inept and uninformed as to his close-quarter skills. He finished, "As for those morons, they probably decided to avenge a slaver or two. The motive of their vengeance? Probably money. Of course, revenge requires one to do their homework, and they didn't know not to accost me like that. Also, I threw a bottle in the crawling guy's face."

[member="Juwiela Melec"]