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Kids Don't Belong Here

Naomi Winchest

The Architect
Nar Shaddaa:
Outside Crush's Cantina

This was not a place for kids. Even teenagers did not belong here. All sorts of trouble could be found inside. Drugs, gang members, slave trafficking, etc. But here Anima was, quietly watching the entrance. A bouncer stood by the door, a massive Null man. His eyes were dead, emotionless. It was obvious he was itching for a brawl. Fingers twitching, eyes locked on every patron who approached, muscles tense. Anima had a feeling his pulse was racing from the way he breathed. Only a little time remained before he would snap. Something simple would get him, likely. Perhaps someone being half a decibel to loud, or one dressing to fancy for a simple cantina.

Veins in the man's neck strained slightly when a trio neared. In the middle was a Zabrak, already drunken and crazed. To his left and right were two Twi'leks, probably hoping to get lucky that night. The Null made his move seconds after they appeared. His fist shot out, striking the Zabrak straight in the jaw. Chaos erupted as the Twi'leks tried to pull him off their companion. Nearby citizens watched, made bets, or moved closer, wanting to attempt a theft. None seemed to be concerned about the fight or the fighters. Things like this happened daily.

Boots hit the concrete quietly. Anima did not want to be heard. Quickly she slipped into the cantina, using the disruption as a cover. Normally someone her size would have been carded. Without the bouncer to stop her, she could skip that... uncomfortable process. Sure, those inside eyed her with cold and wary eyes, but none bothered to stop her. No one really cared.

"What can I get you to drink, cutie? Or are you here for... entertainment?" An attractive Zeltron inquired. It was clear she knew Anima didn't belong here. But just like everyone else on the planet, all she wanted was credits. So the young human handed her a few and asked for the house special before going to sit in the corner. The waitress simply smirked, nodded, and walked off, hips swaying as she went. Credits were credits, no matter who they came from.

Indigo eyes scanned the building. Somewhere amongst the crowd would be a rich client. A hopefully very intoxicated, rich client. If all went well Anima would be able to hack their account or card by the end of the night and score herself some quick money. It was dirty work, and work not usually done by 13 year olds. For this one time the girl would let the end justify the means. Somewhere out in the galaxy was her family. And she wanted more then anything to go home. Nar Shadda was not a place for kids.

Naomi Winchest

The Architect
Nar Shaddaa:
Inside Crush's Cantina

Nimble fingers carefully pulled out a beat up datapad, unlocking it with one swift motion. With the other hand the underage girl retrieve a cigarette and lighter, ignoring her better judgement. Over the last five years her lungs had been growing angry with her, tired of all the second-hand smoke. They became even more aggravated with each intake of clouded air. It was enough to spark the start of a coughing fit, along with irritating a nearby Rodian. Anima did not care, and motioned for the over sensitive meatbag to move if he wanted to.

Sometimes the girl forgot things. Like how most did not enjoy being ushered along, and how her actions were often taken in different ways then she intended. If it hadn't been for a quiet Ithorian, the Rodian would have approached her. And that wouldn't have ended well. Instead of getting closer to going home the girl would've ended up bleeding, broken, and possibly dead. Rodians may not always be the quickest draw, but they almost always carried a blaster. All of this slipped past Anima as she awaited her drink. To her it had been a simple motion, one with few foreseeable consequences. For a person used to getting the worst, she wasn't very cautious, if even at all.

"Here's your drink. It feels wrong serving it to a kid. What are you doing here anyway?" The server asked, placing a medium size glass in front of Anima. Within a second the girl's hands snatched it up, bringing the alcholic drink to her lips. As always she hated the taste and burning sensation. Part of her doubted what she had been told; about how it got better the more you had. Experience wasn't on her side, however, so she couldn't be sure. Despite the sting she downed another few gulps before turning to the waitress with emotionless features.

"You want credits, don't you? That's all anyone on this planet wants. So name your price and stop asking questions." Based off past encounters Anima knew that a little money could go a long way. Almost anyone could be bribed off. The only problem was figuring out how little you could get away with. It was always a web of guessing and estimating, mixing bartering with psychology. Depending on the situation every word could be a risk. Luckily this time was simpler. A few credits passed underhand would likely dissolve any potential conflicts.

"Read me like a book. Ten will do it. Believe it or not, not everyone like me loves their job. Another month and I'll be off this hellhole. I'd do the same if I were you." The Zeltron's voice was surprisingly caring. For a second Anima wondered if it was a trick, or an attempt at getting a few more credits. Deciding to give someone the benefit of the doubt for once she handed her server fifteen credits and waved her off. It was a waste of money, and would seriously cost her if tonight's plans went array. But some choices had to be made.

Once again the teen's indigo eyes scanned the Cantina, watching every movement. Hands lowered her goggles in front of her eyes, and a digital display lit up. Nothing fancy, but it made things clearer. Somewhere in the building had to be a target. Or, even better, someone offering a job. Slicing and hacking was a good way to make credits, while earning small favors from crime lords at the same time. There would always be people wanting to do things the easy way, climb the ladders of society and prosperity faster then others. Legal matters would be forgotten. Improved life made up for minor chaos according to so many. In the beginning Anima had found it disturbing.

Now she found herself thinking like them.


Warden of the Ice
Goddess Domino needed a drink. After that whole messed up situation with the Republic on Contruum. And yeah, she may have gone overboard when she'd ordered the destruction of the city the auction had taken place in, but she'd just been so mad by them firing on her men for the sole reason of the Sun troops walking away. When had that become acceptable for the Republic? Frack it, this required some heavy drinking dirtside, first dive she came to. Of course she couldn't wear anything too recognizable, wouldn't do to have the Vigo on the news drinking a bar under the table, but then that's why there was never freedom of the press here. General trouble preventative then. Low-cut brown leather jacket, tight black shirt, cargo pants just as worn out as the jacket was scuffed, combat boots and a blaster. Perfect, kinda. Whatever, she wanted drinks.

First place she came to had a full-on brawl going on out front. It'd give her something to watch at least. On the way in she gave a mean looking Null that looked like he was about to come to a casual kick in the head in passing. Back to dream land for him. "Whiskey, a bottle." She said brushing pass the Zeltron greeter not caring if she was there to take the orders or not. From there she found a place to stand next to a wall and crammed a pair of Bith over so she had a tiny corner of one of those standing tables. When her drink came she handed over a twenty cred and downed her first glass. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she poured herself another.
@[member="Anima Divium"]
Lancer glanced at the woman who was downing drinks like he down depression, and fancied himself a conversation. He leaned off the wall and held his beer at his side, before walking over to the table. He didn't say anything, but after a long moment, he slowly and deliberately set his beer on the standing table. It was hard to tell what he was looking at with his hat, but he seemed to be indefinitely staring into your soul with the darkened shadow covering the scowl that was on his face. Lancer didn't speak for a moment, but he leaned on the wall adjacent to @[member="Domino"] and then turned his head towards her."Nobody drinks like that...unless they're mad, about to get laid, or kill someone. So tell me, beautiful stranger, which of those it is, or, if I'm wrong."He wasn't looking at her, infact, it didn't even seem like he was interested in her looks at all. He genuinely seemed interested in why she was drinking in the manner she was drinking, which, especially on this planet, was something of a rarity.

Lancer was here to outshoot some poor helpless mercenaries and gain a few extra credits from bets, and maybe even do a sideshow. He was debating on whether or not just skipping that and getting drunk, however. Both, were good options in his opinion.

Naomi Winchest

The Architect
Newcomers caught her attention. One annoyingly tall male, likely almost a foot taller then Anima, and a shorter Twi'lek. They didn't arrive together, but ended up near each other. Multiple theories ran through the teen's head. Old friends? Colleagues? The most probable answer was that they didn't know each other. Men and women ended up talking all the time at Crush's, as with every Cantina. But neither seemed interested in what the typical pairs usually did. Not odd, just slightly against the percentages. There was still time for the event to play out, so perhaps they just weren't as... straightforward as everyone else.

"Twi'lek is definitely pissed. Based off the way she's drinking, various expressions and micro-expressions, ah, bless those micro-expressions, and partial positioning of the bottle. Male? Curious likely... if only I could tell what he said. Can't risk watching for to long... Both could have some credits on them, especially the female. One with the intent to drink does not enter a tavern without filled pockets." Anima's voice was quiet, barely loud enough for even herself to hear. Her fingers were dashing across the datapad once more, inputting various notes on those that filled the building. So far the two talking seemed like the best bet for credits. Though with the female being so upset... it would be dangerous.

Stealing wasn't the teen's only trick, and that might just be the key. If a sentient was the cause of the older woman's frustration... some hacking and slicing could at least sweeten a few moments. All for a medium sum of money. A ring of smoke left Anima's lips as she smirked, her plan coming into form. Quickly she celebrated with another swig of her drink- though it was just as quickly regretted. Muttering a few indistinct curses she pushed the drink away, letting it rest a good six inches from her hand.

Alcohol really wasn't her thing.

Neither was watching her back, as she'd find out soon enough. Anima was to busy making 'casual' glances at the duo to feel the eyes burning into her back. There was someone watching her, waiting for her to move. And they definitely did not have good intentions. Then again, people rarely seemed to on the Smuggler's Moon.
@[member="Domino"], @Lancer Damar


Warden of the Ice
She stiffened when someone deliberately made their way over to her and only relaxed against the table slightly once he began talking. He was hitting on her, great, or asking to get murdered, it was hard to tell. Kinda like it was hard to know if his eyes were being blocked by his hat's brim or if he was staring at her boobs trying to see through her shirt. Probably both on all accounts. Domino took a sip of her drink to buy time before replying. "Yes, married, and I already have. But I'll tell you what, I'm pretty good on this wall but those guys over there look like they could use some help propping theirs up." He wasn't one of hers for sure, and the last thing she wanted was a stand with some gunman.
@[member="Anima Divium"] @Lancer Damar

Davik Tren

The Friendly Fiend
Davik walked into the dimly lit cantina with a rather casual expression towards any patron who may have looked over at him. He was happy to be back on Nar Shaddaa after the long journey he had just taken with Kiber to Alzoc III, and now all he wanted to do was have a stiff drink to melt away the stress of the galaxy, as most people in the bar probably expected to do. He glanced back behind his shoulder to make sure that Kiber had been able to keep up with him, as it would be his first visit to the city-planet. Satisfied as he saw the familiar red color of his helmet, he took stride to the bar and took a seat. He ordered himself some Corellian Rum, before turning around on the stool and letting his elbows rest on the surface of the old wood. Not many stood out to his eyes at first so he looked down to the data pad he had kept in his flight bag to be sure that the ship was being cared for, and to check some of the latest news of the planet.

@[member="Kiber Lacer"]


The Artist
Meanwhile in the VIP section (because there's always one of those)

In the more...cleaner part of the cantina, on a private table enclosed by smooth white walls and a violet curtain there sit four people. One, garbed in a dark teal armorweave body glove, tan boots, gloves and cloak and a brown leather mask, sat relaxed, leaning back into the comfortable circular booth with his arms stretched out and resting on either side of him. The other three were one fancily dressed pudgy human with two very large musclebound bodyguards on both sides of him. They were sitting across from the masked man. The rather round one was speaking through a mouth half preoccupied by a lit cigar.
"...So whaddaya say, I know what you're here for, you gonna tell me who made you the deal, huh?"
The masked man shook his head briefly.
The pudgy one gave a small chuckle, then turned to his two bodyguards as if to say "can you believe this guy?" before breaking out into even louder laughter that wasn't the least bit good natured. The bodyguard to the man's right, slid close to the bounty hunter on the left and the pudgy one got up and flopped down on the other side of him, leaning in close. He slid out a blaster pistol from his breast pocket and pointed it at him.
"I don't like to repeat myself Mr.Reaper. Now tell me, who hired you to kill me before I blow your karkin' brains out!"
"One thing you should know..."
The fat man in the suit was running on a pretty short fuse and since the first words coming out of this bounty hunter's mouth weren't "okay, please, I'll tell!" he pulled the trigger. But his grip on the pistol was demickey and the masked man took notice of this. Wasting no time, he thrust his right arm out, pushing the man's arm away just as he pulled the trigger, causing the ensuing blaster bolt to rip through the chest and consequently the heart of the body guard across the table. It was pretty easy to twist the pistol out of the man's hand, pass it to his left hand and slam the handle of it into the other bodyguard's temple before he could react, knocking him out. From there, Mr.Reaper only pointed the blaster at the pudgy man's head.
"I don't like to repeat myself either"
The man was so paralyzed with fear he could only whimper in response. He couldn't flee, but his face pigment did so for him as his face turned pale as a ghost once the pistol he once held was pushed against his forehead

From outside the booth, Andreas pushed the violet curtain aside as he walked out, letting show the proof of his finished job. Leaning on the rail of the upper floor and looking down on the dirty cantina below, he spots something peculiar. There at the bar sits a child smoking and drinking. He sensed she had a purpose, a goal in her life. But with the way she was carrying herself, she might not live to reach it. Kids don't belong here, there were certain people around this place who had rather...dark plans for children. Jumping from his spot, he does a flip for distance and lands behind @[member=Anima Divium], tapping her on the shoulder, he expects her to turn around.
"What are you doing here, kid?"
He looked down on the girl and spoke with a tone that was both relaxed and authoritative.