I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide.

[Broorn Sabor]

Hunched over in a filthy, unlit alleyway, Broorn quickly brought the match up to the tip of his hand-rolled cigarette, watching as it proceeded to ignite, producing a thick, white cloud of smoke. Drawing in the cloud of smoke, he quickly rose to his feet, exhaling the smoke up towards the midnight sky.

Shuffling out of the alleyway, he grinned as he leaned up against a nearby wall, proceeding to take one single puff from the cigarette before tossing it on the filthy, cracked sidewalk, extinguishing the cigarette with his boot. Heading back down the sidewalk on this dark Nar Shadda night, he grinned as a liquor store came into sight. Quickly spinning around, he jogged over to the establishment.

The building was a small, one story establishment and the elderly man inside was slowly shuffling over to the door, keyring in hand. Quickly pushing open the door, Broorn's boots pounded against the wooden floor. Slipping a hand into his trench coat, he quickly produced a single credit chip, before proceeding to speak:

"Aye! Can I-" The Chiss began, before being interuppted by the elderly man. "Sorry, we're closed. Why don't you stop by tomorrow, sir?" The old man asked, his voice raspy and weak. With a look of disgust, the Chiss made his way over to the old man, shaking his head.

"Nah! Seriously, man. Just take the damn credit chip! I only want a single bottle, man!" Broorn protested, but the man once again shook his head. "No! Sir, I'm afraid we're closing! Now please, remove yourself from the property!" The man barked, his voice filled with anger.

"Alright, man. Alright! I'll leave, but you bet yer' ass I'll be back tomorrow! Ya' just wait!" Broorn shouted, before quickly heading back out onto the sidewalk, resulting in store owner grinning as he locked the front door.

Standing out on the sidewalk, Broorn slowly settled down next to the door, sighing loudly.

[member="Rawnie Tal'verda"]

 

[Rawnie Tal'verda]

Rawnie stood up on a roof top, checking her rifle. It looked good. Clean. She always kept her fathers rifle clean and well maintained. She couldn't afford to replace it, if something happened to it, after all. It was a bit of an antique, compared to some of the state of the art weapons her fellow Mandalorians in the Alors council had, but Rawnie preferred the simple things. If she could get away with it, she'd be fighting with a bow and arrow! Nearly silent. And it made much less of a mess to clean up too.

Don't need anything fancy. They die just the same anyway.

She preferred to make up for her weapons short comings with pure skill anyway. It was the same with her armor. They rest had all this crazy tech in their armor. Beskar weave, Phrik lined. Rawnie figured that as long as it covered her body and protected her from the worst of it, she'd be fine with what ever metal was laying around! All she needed was an internal heating system and a comm in her helmet. Everything else, targeting, navigation... She made up for it with pure know-how.

When these di'kuts have their helmets short out, they'll be completely lost.

The thought always made her feel better about it. During missions, battles, skirmishes, her comrades always had something to say about her low key armor and old weapons. Someday, maybe they would understand why.

She lined up her scope with her target. Not yet. There was a time and place for everything. She didn't like to take the kill in the middle of the street like this. She liked to keep it private, although, her employer did say dead or alive... She'd watch him just a little more. See if taking him alive would be better. It would get her a better pay out...

[member="Broorn Sabor"]

 

[Broorn Sabor]

He remained seated, sighing to himself. He was evicted from his apartment and didn't have a damn credit to do anything else but purchase cigarettes and booze. He glanced around, not seeming to even notice [member="Rawnie Tal'verda"], he slowly reached into his pocket, removing rolling papers and a small pouch of tobacco that was clipped to his belt.

Pulling open the pouch, he proceeded to roll another cigarette, bringing the cigarette up to his lips. Removing a matchbox, he plucked the last match, striking it. Holding the flame up to the foul, low-quality tobacco, he began to puff on the cigarette as the tobacco was ignited, quickly tossing the currently empty matchbox out onto the street.

The heavy rain drenched the coat of the Chiss as he calmly puffed on the cigarette, twitching slightly as the frigid rain dripped down his coat. He continued to sit there, doing absolutely nothing but inhaling the white cloud of cigarette smoke. Watching as the cigarette smoke spiraled up towards the midnight sky, he slowly rose to his feet.

Leaning up against the wall of the liquor store, he took several more puffs from the cigarette, sighing loudly.

[member="Rawnie Tal'verda"]

 

[Rawnie Tal'verda]

Ugh. He wasn't moving! She was getting impatient! Rawnie lowered her rifle, then put it on her back. She took her helmet off, shaking out her messy blonde hair. Fine. She'd try something else. A stun gun and some.... charm. She could at least try it, right? She bit her lip, uncertain. She was hardly the most charming woman alive. She was a bit... stiff. Too serious. Mom could play friendly. But Rawnie just felt uncomfortable and dirty when she approached strangers. Still....

She made her way down the building in the pouring rain, through the filthy alley, out into the open. Her target was still just standing there smoking a cigarette. She made her way over, trying to look... friendly? Or like she was disinterested. Not a good combination.

[member="Broorn Sabor"]