First Reply Gone Guerrilla

[Davik Haize]

Cantina The Paradise, Trader's Belt
Taleuceuma, Saleucami​

Boots crossed on the table, Davik Haize lounged back in the soft booth, idly twirling a pendant with a blue gem between his fingers, lost in thought. The pendant itself emitted a distress call across every friendly frequency the Outer Rim's patchwork comm relays could reach.

It belonged to Tannis Courte. An old friend to both Haize and his late mentor; a man they'd run into from time to time in the Outer Rim.

But more importantly — Tannis was a rebel, a revolutionary, a lifelong fighter against injustice. Last Haize had heard, Tannis was building a resistance network in the Kuthic Worlds, just down the Talcene Transit from here, against the Imperial Confederation. And now he was gone. All that remained was this tracker pendant, and little else to follow.

CorSec detectives would call it a cold case, and, truly, the longer Haize sat turning it over in his mind, the colder his mind's cogs became. But he owed the man, and so did his mentor.

He had to find out what happened.​

--

OOC: Maybe you’re a friend of Tannis, maybe you’re most definitely not. I don’t know, just cook.

 

[Cortana Jade]

The Paradise was full on low music and the static chatter of off-world traders. Tucked in a booth near the back, she watched the man with the pendant -- at this point she didn't for how long. From her vantage, the man with the pendant was framed between the drifting silhouettes of servers and the long gleam of the bar.

She was here because she had a lead that Tannis might have knowledge about Imperial black operations -- operations possibly linked to the death of her parents.

He sat alone, boots on the table, absently twirling it. She noticed them before he did. Two brutes, broad-shouldered, moving without hurry but with a purpose, cutting through the crowd in a slow arc toward his booth.

She just let the seconds stretch, measuring him, their approach, the weight of the room. She just loosely sat back, fingers brushing the rim of her glass.

Their eyes flicked to the pendant, then to each other -- and she could sort of surmise then what they had in mind. She was already mapping the space between them, the exits, and how quickly she could close the distance if she needed to -- it was just as she was taught. For now, she watched, letting the cantina's noise swallow the tension building in the room.

---
Davik Haize​

 

[Davik Haize]

The golden lights of the cantina dimmed as a pair of dark clouds drifted over Davik’s table, breaking his train of thought.

Hmm? He looked up to find two walking slabs of muscle standing there, cracking their knuckles and grins flashing rows of expensive, ceramic-white teeth. Almost blinding.

“Think you’ve been sniffing around the wrong place, sleemo,” the bald one said. Davik tilted his head slightly toward the exit. Two armed goons now occupied the usual security posts; the fire exit was probably covered, too, and he guessed more muscle was waiting outside for rebounds.

They weren’t Imperials, so who else did you manage to piss off, Courte?

“You. Think?” Haize flashed a chit-eating grin. The bald man’s face curdled into rage.

“I’ll show you, bastard--”

Before the thug could throw a punch, Davik's force-enhanced fist shattered his jaw. Mandible cracked loudly, and expensive teeth spun through the air like white glitter. The second goon lunged immediately after, only to catch an elbow to the gut before Haize swept his legs out from under him.

Easy.

As the (dry)wall of muscle fell, a dozen more stepped into view, hidden until now by the first two’s bulky frames.

Maybe not so easy.

I need a way out.

The fight began.

Cortana Jade ​

 

[Darth Moskvin]

Gone Guerrilla

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -​

Location: Taleuceuma, Saleucami
Gear: In Sig
Familiar: Archimedes​

O'Death

My arrival to the Outer Rim planet was not born from the freshly dug graves of pleasure, but from the cold tendrils of creeping business; as always as been my past few weeks. Easily I could dispatch Sisters to conduct such circumstances, but I prefer doing the devil's work; quite literally, for I am the devil clothed in the skin of the boogeyman. I had delegated myself to conducting research for a project that held much potency in reshaping the galaxy, and for this reason I found myself standing in front of a cantina in hopes my contact would not be late. I despise tardiness. And so did my fowl, Archie, who stood proudly erect on my right shoulder, his eyes always observant, his stomach always seeking food. With a long, dry sigh I entered the cantina.

The sights and smells where offensive to someone like myself. Well, the smells anyway. The sights were as one would expect; and I suppose the smells should be too. Mentally handwaving the whole debacle in front of me, I scanned the occupied tables, and as I feared; tardiness. With a low growl, I moved toward an empty table, my deathly appearance gliding through like the phantom I project on the psyches of others. They call me Lady Death, and it doesn't take a genius to understand why. Just look at me, I quite faithfully check off the ticks of a monster, the harbinger of death; the eater of men's souls.

Sitting down at a table, my undead body attracting curious looks and quick turning of heads, I could only smile at them hauntingly; the tips of my fangs slightly exposed. Archie flew to the table's surface, in search of food in any form. To appease my friend, I produced a piece of rotted flesh from an inner pocket of my cloak; tossing it on the table, watching with dark enthusiasm as he gobbled it up in mere seconds. Then I felt the air change, an event formulating from the thoughts of others. Again, I smiled, not hauntingly this time, but passionately. I love killing, watching those die; and not always just by my hand.

Then it happened....a fight. Now this was worth forgiving my contact for his tardiness.

Davik Haize / Cortana Jade​