Private Efficiency Over Ethics

[CT-312]

//: Drystan Creed Scherezade deWinter //:
//: Fighting Arena, Bendeluum //:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: Halcyon Armour| M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack| M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Wrist Mounted APG | Ancile Shield | Navi/Barca //:
//: WEAPONS: LO-18D | LO-22S //:
//: LO-KI/22 Standard Slug Round //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Bounty Hunting - Exotic Beasts | Felucian Rancor //:

Bendeluum’s skies glimmered with a thin layer of artificial smog and neon haze. A bustling planet known for its underground fighting arenas and vice-friendly policies. It welcomed criminals, mercenaries, and spectators. Anyone alike with open arms and closed morals.

Thud. CT-312’s boots dully hit the duracrete as she disembarked from the shuttle. With a place like this, surprisingly her camouflage armor wasn’t completely sticking out like a sore thumb. The Scout’s HUD blinked softly as the navmarker guided her through crooked alleys and glowing signs. Toward the designated rendezvous point. The Hollow Fang. Located into the side of a broken down arena wall.

CT-312 took a seat near the rear. Placing her back to the wall. Eyes scanned for all the exits. With the flick of her gauntlet, the data was pulled up.

<:// BOUNTY NOTICE //:>
<:// Bounty Hunter ID: CT-312 //:>
<:// Location: Bendeluum //:>
<:// Client: Threkkuss //:>
<:// Target: Felucian Rancor //:>
<:// Capture and deliver alive to the fighting pits of Nar Kanji //:>:>

Eyes lingered on the notice for a few seconds. Her gloved finger pushed the DeathDrop's internal encrypted network. A silent ping. An open invitation. ‘Let's see who bites.’

It wasn’t every day a bounty popped up involving a Rancor. Let alone a Felucian Rancor. The beasts were already volatile and rare in the wild. It would be inefficient to track one down. But this? The bounty never specified how the beast had to be captured. Just that it needed to be alive and delivered. Upside, this Felucian Rancor already has the taste of fighting in the pits.

And as luck would have it. A world where arenas were fed by a thriving criminal market, some be legal or not. One such of a Rancor just happened to be advertised on a haloscreen feed across from the bar.

“TONIGHT ONLY: The Felucian Terror RETURNS. Watch it fight to the death at Arena Nine.”

CT-312 leaned back. If someone else had done the hard part already. It’d be a shame not to capitalize on it. ‘Efficient.’ Especially if the right DeathDrop members showed up to help raise some hell.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Tags: CT-312 Drystan Creed

---

The Sith Warrior had two sisters; one by blood and Force-twisted circumstance that made most people's heads hurt when they tried to make sense of it, and the other who had once been ordered to watch over her before they chose to become sisters. And it was the latter that made this situation… tricky. Katrine Van-Derveld was a Witch. Not a Dathomiri, but raised among them (at least for a bit of time), and rancors were just a step shy of holy in their culture. It was something she had taken with her when she's put the Mandragora together. Did it count today as well? Well… If she ever caught wind of what Scherezade had agreed to do for a little pocket change…

Yeah. Best not let her know. It wasn't even about the creds.

Scherezade leaned back in her seat, only a few feet from where CT-312 sat. She'd been there a few minutes already, deliberately holding back, giving the woman the choice of when "hi" would stop being awkward and start being something else.

It was a strange place for her to be in. This was the third time, maybe more (she was great at math when she had her scrolls and papers around, and even though she could create full schematics without needing a calculator, being out of the moment sometimes made basic arithmetic not make sense to her) that they'd worked together. And yet… no one had kicked her out. No one had turned away. No one had given her that distant, polite smile-and-nod she'd grown so used to in the past.

The realization made her grin, sharp and a little giddy. Social acceptance was supposed to be weird for her, something that belonged to other people. And still, sitting there, she found herself actually enjoying it. Which was both terrifying and, annoyingly, kind of nice.

And the rancor? Well, rancors were easy. Easier than people. And she already had experience with them.