-| Nar Shaddaa Nights |-
Refugee Sector, Nar Shaddaa. . .
"I'm telling you, it's related," Agent McLawrence insisted as he analyzed the droids destroyed frame. "Look at the scorch marks, they suggest its the same flamethrower typical of Mandalorian kits. Military-grade." Agent Anatazja turned her gaze from her floating datapad to her partner, her augmented white eyes matched her equally white hair, a disapproving frown on her face. "KV-N1 has no friends on Nar Shaddaa, McLawrence, they make enemies of everyone. They're droids gone rogue, everyone wants them gone."
"I've got a feeling about this. There's a trail of bodies all over the Refugee Sector with the same modus operandi that link back to Gorba's Pleasure Palace, I'm betting you my next pay that it's Koda Fe-" Anatazja interrupted before he could finish, chiding him loudly, "Enough of that or I'll have the captain write you up another warning. We don't want to make enemies of the wrong people." Agent McLawrence shut his mouth, although with some contempt for his partner.
Anatazja continued, "Bag and tag the frames, sell them to the scrapyard over in the Industrial District once you scan their memory banks. We'll have the techs go over their history." McLawrence shifted the droid over, the back of its head was fried but an empty slot told the detective enough, "One problem with that, someone's already taken their memory chip." McLawrence turned around and from behind the spectacles he gave his partner a familiar conspiratory look, she snapped, "I'm not hearing another word of your theory. Let's pack up and go."
Frida's Spaceport Cantina. . .
Julian Valentine entered the cantina. Frida gave a loud and warm greeting from behind the bar. There were several Ravens at the cantina tonight and a handful of unfamiliar faces. The bounty hunter ran his hand through his hair and stroked his beard as he looked at the lack of seats. He was about to go stand by the bar when Frida noticed his plight, yelled at two young men, they were obviously too young to drink, too old for Frida to care. The kids jumped and moved from the booth.
Julian waved his thanks and took a seat at the booth, his hand reaching under the table. His index finger tapped at a button and a yellow tranquility screen enveloped the booth, shielding both unwanted eyes and ears from listening into any conversations. A welcoming sight at Frida's and Julian was surprised the old tech still worked. He turned his wrist over and checked his datapad. Ghorua should be here any moment now. They had a meeting, a hunt would soon begin.
For now, drinks and conversation before they begin their investigation. Frida entered the bubble and placed a bitterfruit liquor on the table. "I always remember your favorite," she said to Julian, "My, it's been some years. I remember when you were a lad just AWOL from the Imperial Academy. Now, don't shoot too many of my customers." Frida then left the booth and moved back for the bar. Julian had been a green-as-grass twenty-two year old AWOL soldier when he first showed his face here, he was now in his early forties and a veteran bounty hunter.