Private Finders Keepers

[Dylan Kaelis]

LOCATION: Mirogana, Toshara, Republic space
POST THEME: Nosebleeds by Misterwives
TAGS: Lorn Reingard

⬤ ⬤ ⬤​

Waiting was the hardest part of stealing.

Finding the mark was child's play. Getting close enough to hear the cred sticks jingling was easy, too. Even the moment when she slips her fingers into his pockets and lifts the little golden bars was no trouble. But waiting? It'd kill Dylan faster than a hungry varaki. She wasn't always this impatient, but lately, she couldn't help herself. Maybe it was the constant rumbling in her belly or the knot in her shoulder from sleeping on an amberine floor. Whatever it was didn't matter to her now. Her focus was locked on the Nikto's pocket.

He seemed to have a nervous tic where he shifted his weight from one foot to the other; when he shifted to the right, he was perfectly lined up for her grubby little hand to slip in and back out again, a few hundred credits richer.

Dylan breathed in and tried to ignore the smell of roasting meat from a cart around the corner. She focused on her hand, sensing each muscle from her wrist down to her fingers, and when the moment was right... yoink. In and out in a flash. She glimpsed her own reflection in the metallic surface and cracked a smile, but the joy of knowing she'd eat good tonight was dashed by the shrill voice of a woman shouting "Bo shuda!"

The girl's eyes shot to the crier, then snapped back to see confusion boil instantly into rage on the Nikto's face. He didn't get an opportunity to reach for her, though—Dylan slammed her durasteel-toed boot into the alien's shinbone, dropping him down to a knee as she turned and ran toward the crowded market. Behind her, curses and swears followed. Brat, thief, scum—among other colorful insults—flew like blaster bolts by her head. She'd heard them all, and worse, though. It didn't phase her anymore.

Dylan kept moving, gradually slowing her pace to blend in better with the spacers and merchants. Soon enough, she was invisible again. But it wouldn't last long. Ahead, she saw a pair of Pyke Syndicate enforcers conversing with a shopkeeper she'd stolen from just a few days prior. The Pykes were nodding beneath their cuboid helmets as the snitch filled them in. Dylan watched them with disdain. She wasn't watching her footing, and when she tried to walk the other way, she tripped over someone's foot in the crowd. She caught herself, fumbling instead of falling, but she bumped into a passing merchant. The collision sent the woven basket he was balancing on his head to the floor, scattering fruits across the ground.

The commotion pulled the eyes of the Pykes and their informant, who all-too-eagerly pointed straight at Dylan and began shouting.

The chase was on again.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Dylan Kaelis​

Lorn generally avoided worlds like Toshara. The worlds within the Mara Corridor were a pungent mix of sweat, oil, and desperation, commerce stripped of any pretense of civility. The Republic's influence barely extended this far, and where it did, it was usually for less than honorable reasons. Still, his orders had led him here, requiring a discreet meeting in a backroom to discuss safe houses and supply lines; the vital, unseen network of the underground. His duty done, Lorn had been eager to get back to his transport.

As he navigated the narrow market lanes, his hood pulled low, vendors hawked their wares in a cacophony of languages, smoke rising from sizzling food stalls. Suddenly, something small and fast slammed into his leg.

It was a girl.

She faltered, nearly falling, before bracing herself against a merchant's cart, sending a cascade of fruit rolling across the street. For a fleeting moment, she looked up, her eyes wide and defiant. Lorn saw in them the desperate, unbroken spirit of a thief.

Shouting erupted behind her; sharp, clipped, and all too familiar. Pykes. Three of them, shoving through the crowd, blasters partially drawn, murder evident in their voices. The shopkeeper gestured, and Lorn understood instantly: the girl had stolen something valuable.

Without a word of protest, the girl took off running.

Lorn let out a sigh through his nose. This wasn't his problem. His transport awaited, and his orders certainly didn't include getting involved with street kids or the petty fury of the Syndicate. Yet, despite himself, his feet began to move.

The crowd parted as the Pykes pushed forward, their metallic helmets glinting under the sun. Lorn followed at a steady pace, the edge of his cloak trailing on the dusty ground. He could sense the chase unfolding; the girl's panicked flight ahead, the grim determination of her pursuers. Beneath the clamor and the smoke, the Force pulsed with a quiet disapproval.

She didn't deserve whatever fate awaited her.

He quickened his step into the pursuit.

 

[Dylan Kaelis]

LOCATION: Mirogana, Toshara, Republic space
POST THEME: Nosebleeds by Misterwives
TAGS: Lorn Reingard

⬤ ⬤ ⬤​

Dylan's heart pounded like a racing fathier as she darted through the crowd. She was confident she could escape, yet afraid of what would happen if she failed. More than anything, she was angry. Angry at herself for getting caught, angry at the Pykes for preying on street kids, and angry that the galaxy allowed such things to happen.

Her distraction was enough to make her stumble over a hooded man's foot. She caught her balance with a lucky grip on the edge of a food cart, but the stumble slowed her long enough for their eyes to meet. The man seemed strangely calm, unwilling to pin her down or call out while the Pykes gained ground. For that, she was grateful, though her gratitude showed only in a steady look that lingered a few seconds longer than needed.

Then she ran. Eyes forward, heart hammering, she pushed the doubt and frustration to the back of her mind.

"Stop her!" one of the Pykes shouted from behind, far closer than Dylan was comfortable with.

She needed an opening, and it appeared just a few meters ahead. The corridor narrowed sharply, and stacked before the junction were several heavy-looking crates—far too heavy to move by hand. Fortunately for her, the Pykes didn't know she had a trick up her sleeve.

Keeping one hand steady as she ran, Dylan waited for the right moment. As she passed the crates, she flicked her wrist, sending them crashing to the floor with a metallic thud that echoed down the corridor. For the first time since bolting from the market, she slowed and glanced over her shoulder.

"Time bought," she said, a smug smile tugging at her lips.