Private Making Money Moves - Kaggath

[Jacen Breska]

K A G G A T H ​

WEARING:: Jacen’s Second Legion Armor
EQUIPMENT: DC-902d
LOCATION: :: Naboo ::
TAG: John Locke | Tai Corde | CT-312

What had they gotten themselves into?

Jacen and 312 had…’apparently’ willingly signed up for this ‘Kaggath’. Some Sith ritualistic tournament where they beat the hell out of and try to kill each other. Now the criminals of the galaxy have banded together and decided to host their own, the first Galactic ‘Kaggath’. And Jacen felt the need to sign up.

After a night of heavy drinking in the trooper bar, flashes of some figure passing around a sign up sheet shot across his mind. He saw 312 sign, and some people laughed saying it was stupid to join. And he’d be damned to let 312 do something stupid alone. The next thing they knew, they had signed up for this death tournament. Jacen didn’t know what compelled 312 to sign a random piece of paper and he hated himself even more for signing up right beside her. At least she may have read it before signing. Jacen just saw her do it and put his name next to hers.

Imagine their surprise when they woke up the next morning and realized what they had signed up for. Imagine how much more surprised they were to learn just how many Sith and Force Users had also signed up. And the pair of them had willingly entered into a fight, likely, to the death with them.
Still, his pride and the promise of being able to show the strength of the men and women of the galaxy who didn’t rely on cheap tricks to win battles kept Jacen from withdrawing. The tricks Jacen and 312 would use were fun and expensive, but they needed more. The deck needed to be weighed VERY heavily in their favor if they stood a chance, and the sponsorships they’ve had so far were confidence boosters, but there was one name that hadn’t declared for anyone yet.

John Locke.

So here they sat, on their way to Naboo with one of their sponsors, Tai Corde. An enigmatic figure that Jacen didn’t recognize but knew to be the governor of his home planet of Bespin. He looked down at the sticker on his armor and sighed quietly to himself.

“Thanks for making this connection, boss,” he said quickly. He wondered how exactly a gas baron from Bespin would be able to get a meeting with John Locke, but just as quickly as the thought appeared he waved it away. What did it matter? She didn’t have to, but she got them in a room with him somehow. The rest was unimportant.
“With yours, Lucettes, and John Locke’s support we stand a really good chance of not dying immediately.”

​

 

[CT-312]

//: Jacen Breska Tai Corde John Locke //:
//: Naboo //:
//: Attire //:
​

“...”

Head pounding. Eyes oversensitive. Thank god for her helmet. The polarized visor spared her from the searing blinding lights all around. CT-312 stood still, staring at the roster displayed on the datapad screen in front of her for the “Galactic Kaggath”.

There it was.

CT-312
TK-710

The only Troopers to have signed up. She had no recollection of this.

‘You’ve got to be karking chitting me.’

Her mind raced to try to figure out bits and pieces of the night before that led to this. Somewhere in that blue haze, CT-312 bumped into TK-710 at a Trooper Bar. A bunch of them from the DeathDrop just happened to be there. Just a casual reunion, a way to blow off steam and pretend the galaxy wasn’t actively trying to kill them constantly. Just laughs, noise, and cheap drinks. Too many of them.

Head throbbing.

Remembering bits and pieces of conversations that were going around in the bar that night. Someone had passed out flyers. Something about a tournament. They all joked about how a mere Trooper like themselves would have no chance in something like this. “What kind of sadist thinks Troopers would qualify for something like that?” someone had joked and they all followed suit.

Why even bother trying to advertise here? They all cackled.

As more drinks filled the night, the Troopers in the bar began to sign the handful of flyers as a joke... ‘It was all supposed to be thrown out.’ CT-312 recalled. She remembered in an act of solidarity and well-earned disdain, they all scrunched up the flyers into a ball and all of them took turns throwing it into the trash.

It was all supposed to be thrown out. CT-312 remembered that clearly. They threw them away.

‘Unless…’ CT-312 let out a low groan.

Someone missed the bin with her serial number and TK-710's on it and by some cruel joke played by the gods in this universe. Someone decided to turn that paper ball of a flyer in. The Camo Scout read the tournament headline again. “The First Galatic Kaggath”

‘What hell is even a Kaggath?’ CT-312’s brow raised. And more importantly how in the hell did TK-710 and herself manage to get sponsors?

‘How– Wha–’ No words. CT-312 was just stunned processing. Her eyes blinked a couple of times in disbelief.

“...Chit.”

—

CT-312 kept silent. Fuming inside of how ridiculous this whole situation was. They were on their way to meet one of their sponsors. Someone named Tai Corde from Bespin Gas, whose gait did look somewhat familiar, came to pick them up. But that was the least of CT-312’s troubles. They were meeting someone named John Locke. She nodded with what TK-710. What he spoke was true. Hopefully now they stood a fighting chance against the unknown.

A barely audible sigh escaped CT-312.