Retirement (Nar Shaada)

[RC 212]

Nar Shaada
Dancing Krayt Cantina

The bar was full and noisy tonight. Only weeks earlier she'd submitted her resignation letter to the Galactic Alliance, turning over her Alliance Flight uniform and dog tags. She was effectively no longer Lieutenant Trask, Rogue Eleven.

She was just Karren, and a very down on her luck and tired Karren at that. Through multiple skirmishes and bloodbaths she'd fought, even sustaining urns at Mirial taking on the Sith as an ally to the Silvers. The ghosts of the burning children from the wall of light still echoed through her dreams every night.

As did every soul she'd laid to rest with a savage slash or a well placed bolt.

War was hell, and as far as she was beginning to see, both the Jedi and the Sith were just two sides of a singular coin. Everywhere they interfered, they caused chaos and death.

"You need another round hot shot?" The bar keep asked.

She glanced up from where her eyes were locked, on the rim of her mug and nodded.

She was once a brilliant Padawan, fighting for justice in an upside down galaxy.

​

Now I'm not so sure. Who is right? The Sith claimed the Jedi were the aggressors of Mirial. There's evidence for that. Then there's the torture and villainy we all know about.....​

"Better make it two. I got a long night ahead of me."

"Anything particular?"

"Not really. Know where a gal can get a ship round here though? Something that can haul a StealthX sized fighter. Asking for a friend."

"Give me a few, I'll get back around to ya."

He slid another mug towards her, and she re flattened the star chart she'd, quickly hidden from his prying eyes. On it was several locations plotted out, red marks against a rusty blue background color.

Anything was possible for her now....

 

[Arekk]

The Smuggler's Moon had provided the young Jedi a chance to rebuild his life and aim for something greater, gain power over a section of the Red Light Sector and the Promenade. The foundation of the Hawk's Circle and the reconstruction of the buildings left behind by The Lirak Cartel marked a new chapter for Nar Shaddaa's underworld, allying themselves with The Cabal and most definitely working under Gorba the Hutt.

Ar'ekk wanted to give all his fellow squad members of Ghost Squad, brave soldiers that fought in Malachor V and stared at death straight into its eyes yet walked alive from the battlefield, a sense of belonging. They settled down here in the land of scum and villainy, where the weak are oppressed and pushed over.

What he had in mind was to provide assistance to the poor and help anyone who's in need in exchange for favors and thus building a succesful (criminal) empire in the Underworld. Little did he know that greed and lust for power would end up being the demise of The Hawk's Circle and such thing would make him walk away from Nar Shaddaa to find the right path once again. The path of light and righteousness, to become a Jedi once again.

It was difficult to leave everything behind. Many cantinas had housed Ar'ekk and the drinks became usual every single day of the week, most of the bartenders knowing him by either name or the things he had done. Visiting the Dancing Krayt wasn't any different as a glass of Pink Nebula awaited him by the bar.

"You know something? It's funny that every time I walk through that door and approach the counter, you've already prepared my drink."

The bartender couldn't help but give a sympathetic smirk to the half masked man.

He would have laughed at his own joke, if he had remembered how.

[member="Karren Trask"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Ar'ekk"]

She recognized Ar'ekk but only briefly had they served together. A few missions here and there for the Jedi Order. Quickly she stowed her map, tucking it deep into her dirty orange flightsuit and glanced over, assessing if he'd sen her.

Then she approached.

"Fancy finding you here. Where you been? Last I heard you jumped ship on the Order same as me."

One eyebrow was raised, half accusing, half playful.

 

[Arekk]

Karren was just one of the many faces that the man had seen throughout his life, blurry memories deep ingrained into his skull. Something told him that she was familiar but couldn't quite grasp it. Perhaps they've served before or briefly met somewhere remote. She was someone he could easily recognize but it was hard to tell at the time, too many people he had met but wanted to forget.

His mask rested by the counter with his hand gripping tightly to it as the other one held his drink. Arching an eyebrow, Ar'ekk clashed glances with the woman. Truth be told, he was too focused on drinking all the problems away that his sorroundings became a mist, distant unimportant sights and sounds.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Lies. More lies.

[member="Karren Trask"]

 

[Azimuth Industries]

A long-snouted Kubaz sat in a shadowy booth at the back of the cantina, near the rear exit. His goggled, hooded face was barely even visible beneath the haze of cigarra smoke. In his right hand, beneath the table, he held some sort of comlink-looking device.

He stared at [member="Ar'ekk"] and [member="Karren Trask"] while doing his best to be unnoticed. His boss knew the man, but the girl? Maybe the meeting was nothing. Or maybe it was something.

Ootman would find out, one way or another.