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Slumdog Trillionaire.

Jhéne Ailo

Guest
J
Nal Hutta's Moon -- Nar Shaddaa
Undercity

Cesspit. God(s) forsaken. Armpit of the galaxy. Hell hole. All appropriate, but unofficial titles of Nar Shaddaa. It was a place of refuge for spice merchants, bounty hunters and all other scums of the galaxy from A-Z.
Anyone looking to keep their eyes from looking down the barrel of a blaster, really.

Jhéne was likely one of those avoiding being hunted. She didn't know, really but her assumption was likely validated through years of actions void of morals. She followed the credits.

Why?

Because credits lead to the substances she needed. Death sticks. She was reliant on the hallucinogens since her headaches began acting up three years ago. That being said, she had no idea how many years of her life she had shaved off.
Nor did she care. Jhéne had really no purpose to serve other than living from day to day.

Slowly, she ran her tongue across her lips to relieve the sweet coating of deathstick residue. Her dark eyes temporarily glazed over, and the dim lighting of the hole-in-the-wall cantina suddenly electrified. It was a temporary sensation, since she had only taken a mild dosage in her drink to subside the light pounding in her head. Heavy as it was, she rested her chin against her palm and leaned into a thick sip of corellian ale. A drink with a familiar and somewhat comforting taste, even better with her own spicing.

Corellia was home, despite the odds.

Still semi-lucid, the dark skinned woman looked up from her isolated booth and around the cantina, summing up each of its patrons.

Boring. (Even with the added illusions).

Interested in either Fel Empire or Black Sun. Just need a little info.
@[member="Jared Starchaser"] | @[member="Davik Tren"] | @[member="Ronin Fel"]
 

Moff Iridius

Guest
M
Walking into the bar was a rather old and frail woman, she must of been in her sixties due to how grey her hair was. Walking over to the bar she simply ordered a bottle of water. taking it she smiled and paid the man before walking back to a booth adjacent @Jhéni Ailo smiling and sipping her water the woman looked very out of place for her surroundings. After taking another sip the woman stared at Jhéni for a bit studying the deathstick addicted woman for a few minutes
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk strode into the cantina, carefully surveying the patrons. All seemed likely to shoot him in the back, except for the old woman. He wasn't entirely sure why she'd be he's as she definitely did not fit the profile. That meant, of course, that she would be the most likely to shoot him. Or she was a lost tourist and he had a duty to assist her. Either way, he didn't relish either option. Fortunately he was incognito today, dressed in dark, battered, and Sarai Ed spacer's gear. He looked just like any other suspicious crew member between jobs. Hopefully they would find the suspect soon and he could leave this rock. There were few places he hated more than Nar Shadaa, which meant he spent more time there anywhere else. Or it felt that way anyways. He took a seat behind the gray haired woman, indicating for a drink and meal. He had a little arrangement with the bartender. Avoided being poisoned that way.
 
The Black Flame
Writer
(OOC: I Just saw this on my phone but I'll post tomorrow when I get on laptop again)
 

Davik Tren

The Friendly Fiend
Writer
Davik had been waiting inside of the hovel of a cantina for quite some time before most of the patrons had arrived. He had been on this disgusting planet for about a week now, and he intended to be leaving in two more rotations. He did not like this world in the least, he wondered for a moment if anyone did. But this was to be his fate at least for a little while longer. A recent job had gained the unwanted attention of some Rodian gunslingers who Davik had used to call "Buddies!". This did not matter, however, he had not seen one sight of them since escaping to this trash covered city-planet and he was quite happy to have it stay that way.

The spacer took another sip of the Corellian Brandy he had ordered upon entering and rested his legs on the seat of the booth that he occupied. He doubted anyone would be curious of him, and furthermore why should they? Everyone was No-one on Nar Shaddaa. He took one more look down at his drink, but this was only to gaze at his gauntlet that was directly linked to his ship, he was pleased to see that it was already refueled and repaired from the recent... Scratches...

When his drink was empty, Davik looked about the cantina at the other patrons who sat now idly about the dim room that made up the main service area of the hole. At first he only noticed a gray haired women outright, as she appeared very out of place on a world like Nar Shaddaa. After another careful scan he noticed a lone, dark haired woman sitting in a darker section of the cantina. The reason he had taken noticed was that he had seen a slight glimmer from the girl's lips. He knew the glint could have simply been cheap makeup, purchased in the undercity, but he noticed her hand trembling as well, no... This was not makeup. He knew because he had once been completely indulged by the substance that left that residue on the woman's lips. It had nearly consumed him. And he still dabbled in it... On occasion.

Davik got up slowly from his seat, as to not draw unwanted attention from any of the other patrons before making his way over to the darker corner of the cantina, and the dark skinned woman. He motioned for the bartender to bring the both of them some drink, before sitting down, opposite the girl. He noticed the hand trembling more now, typical. She was not incredibly beautiful, but that is not to say she was average. She had the certain unattractiveness that death sticks tended to leave on their victims. A certain lost look. A hungry look.

"You alright, Miss?"


@Jhéne Ailo
 

Jhéne Ailo

Guest
J
The chatter was almost deafening, although all the conversations were private. Jhéne sat back in her booth, running her slender fingers around the rim of her drink.
She liked people watching, considering that everyone in the Cantina was suspending their lives for an allotted amount of time, and they were all grouped together; although completely ignorant of each other. It was fascinating, really. Especially since the dosage had dipped to the slow motion phase, which meant the hallucinogen part was wearing off already. Realizing this, the mocha-skinned woman's brows knit in frustration.

Last time I take a tip from a cheapy. She thought glumly.

Speaking of curious patrons, there seemed to be one ogling her more than Jhéne was comfortable with. Then again, she didn't really like to be looked at in the first place, even if just for a fleeting moment. But the woman with the silver crown, sipping water? Creepy.

Jhéne had been so invested in returning the observation from the elder, that when it appeared someone thought it alright to sit with her, she nearly jumped. Dark eyes diverted quickly to sum up the features (although mildly distorted) of the speaker. She couldn't help but to click her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and pulling in whatever limbs had been outstretched. She was guarded, to say the least.

With an apathetic tone, the young woman replied "As alright as anyone else here." Her brow quirked at his presumptuous action, and she added additional sarcasm to her statement "Please, by all means, have a seat."

@[member="Davik Tren"] | @Dr.Marie Krasnican | @[member="Dirk Ellerden "]| @[member="Ronin Fel"]
 

Davik Tren

The Friendly Fiend
Writer
Davik smirked as she clearly had not expected to see him. This was also typical. The short buzz would of course distract her mind a bit, no matter how small the dosage. He took the seat, even though he knew that she did not entirely welcome him. The spacer looked towards the bartender who now carried over two glasses and set them down. Davik handed the man a few credit chips and he was off. Money was not a tight resource to Davik at the moment thanks to his last two employers who were more than generous for his services and he saw no reason why he should not enjoy himself more. Perhaps he would start here.

"Don't mind if I do. You just looked Oh-So lonely in the corner over here. What's your name then? They call me Davik."

Davik nodded to the woman and examined her more closely than before. Although she did not look overly extraordinary, she seemed like she could handle herself in a fight. This was not entirely surprising as one that ever lands on Nar Shaddaa should be prepared to fight. Perhaps this girl could be of some sort of use. And of course she may be easily influenced. With that thought, Davik patted the flight bag he was carrying, within which he always kept around two deathsticks... For their calming effect of course.
 
The Black Flame
Writer
Nal Hutta a...interesting pit of filth to say the least. You couldn't catch Ronin Fel dead in a place like this without good reason, which he just happened to have this time around. While readying his operations in the Outer Rim, Ronin was contacted by the noble owner of a orphanage on Corellia. The owner of the orphanage had been a close friend to the Fel family for years and Ronin was not about to throw such a relationship away, no matter how busy he was. So, Fel dropped what he was doing and left preparations to his hired team of attorneys and secretaries while he traveled back to his home planet.

It turned out that the owner of the orphanage was having a sudden realization of prior mistakes and wanted Ronin's help in trying to fix it. Apparently, the orphanage had let a bounty hunter adopt a small girl many years ago and now this small girl had turned up on their radar. Rumor had it that the girl was having a severe drug problem of late and the orphanage hoped that the Fel family, who had a high reputation on Corellia, could help the girl find a proper path once again. Ronin wasn't exactly sure if he was the one for such a job, but he couldn't dishonor his family name by turning down close family friends in their hour of need.

Ronin did his best to dress like someone who wasn't worth mugging, putting on a worn down brown jacket and matching cloths that could barely be considered better than rags. Even with those attempts, however, Fel still had a very noble feel about him and he would surly stick out in a crowd which was why he was also packing a heavy blaster pistol just in case.

Striding into the bar, which a few local bribes had earned him the location to, Fel looked for the girl that was supposedly here. Ronin sighed, taking out a datapad which depicted an animated picture of what the girl might look like at her current age. I'm not detective, that much is certain Fel thought to himself, his eyes scanning the crowd for @[member="Jhéne Ailo"]

@[member="Davik Tren"]
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk raised an eyebrow as @[member="Ronin Fel"] walked in. Now that was interesting. This place was certainly a hub for everyone who looked out of place today. First the old lady. Now this older man. At first he thought they might be meeting, but then he pulled out the datapad and looked between it and the people inside. Looking for someone, apparently, and he was certainly no professional. Nor at disguise either. The key wasn't the clothes. It was the bearing. This man stood out like a sore thumb. Dressed like a beggar. Walked like a Senator. It threw off warning flags to everyone nearby. Nor was there any subtlety in his searching of the participants. That was a good way to get shot. He gestured for another drink to be brought over, and then inclined his head towards @[member="Ronin Fel"] to invite him to take a seat.
 

Moff Iridius

Guest
M
"Oh they are all so perfect." The woman said aloud to herself grabbing notepad she began to scribble down notes and informations about everyone in the bar, they were all well most of them perfect especially the man behind her. He was the most fit candidate for what she had planned. Standing up she walked to the table behind her sitting in front of @Dirk Ellerden. She smiled at him warmly then pulled out her notepad flipping pages and smiled at him sipping her water before speaking

"Ecuse me sweetheart but could I ask you a question or two?" She smiled then cough a bit from the fumes of whatever people were smoking In this horrible establishment
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk gave a slight frown as @Dr.Marie Krasnican approached. He wasn't entirely sure why she wanted to speak to him. Maybe she was some reporter or holovid writer. Fit the profile, but she seemed to be more analytical than most others in those professions. He shifted slightly, allowing his shoulder holster to be in easy reach if necessary before answering. He shrugged, finishing the prior adjustment with this so it seemed to be one motion. "Might as well. Don't have anything else to do."
 

Moff Iridius

Guest
M
The old lady cackled as the man showed off his blaster to him, the woman was sixty years old she couldn't hurt him if she tried. "Sweetheart, I promise you that is not needed. Do I look like I'm going to hurt you?" The woman smiled and looked to her notes before smiling at Dirk, he seemed to fit the bill. "Have you now or ever been in any traumatic accident that has caused serious injury?" She looked back down at her pad and then took another sip of her water before coughing. "Do you have any implants or fake organs?" she scooted up on her seat trying to make herself a bit more comfy in these worn crappy old booths.

"Ah and do you know if you are force sensitive?" the woman asked her last question then flipped to a blank page before returning to studying Dirk Ellerden he was certainly quite the specimen he seemed a bit too nice though for the usual scum that came in and out of this place. Maybe he was republic, and if he was it his potential was surely wasted there
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk narrowed his eyes, suspicious. He hadn't revealed his blaster at all. It was still safely hidden beneath the jacket. No matter. It may have been a guess. After all, there was a good chance everyone here had a blaster. He pursed his lips at the questions. What was this? A medical survey? Research on the medical profiles of cantina visitors? He ran through the questions. "No, no, and no, I am not." He'd managed to avoid serious injury through his entire career, thankfully. Anyway, they were odd question, and he was slightly on edge. Almost like there was a trap closing in somehow.
 

Moff Iridius

Guest
M
"Do you consider yourself a leader?" The woman smiled once more jotting a few things down in her own personal short hand as to not have anyone discover what she was planning. She wanted him, she could look past him not being force sensitive but still he would be a nice addition to the program. "Are you an affiliate of any major organization?" the woman took one last sip of her water and pushed the empty glass to gbd side, "Also your name, I'm Doctor Marie Krasnican lead developer of Project Pantheon and I do some small work for the imperial shop works as well as TITAN Industries." the woman left it all out there for @[member="Dirk Ellerden "]and smiled she didn't want there to be any big secrets until it was time

Though her loyalty was not to any faction the woman had to use who she could to get her way in developing the future, she wanted dirk no matter the cost and she would try her hardest to make him hers.
 

Jhéne Ailo

Guest
J
"Do they." Jhéne remarked, keeping her tone at a level she thought was as blasé as possible. Davik's name meant little to her, which could have been considered a good thing. That meant he wasn't a threat at the moment. Nor was he a client looking for creds or what have you.

If Jhéne were better with her words, she would have told him off with finer articulation. Something about her perceived loneliness being inaccurate. Alas, in lieu of her educated tongue, she simply picked up her old glass, still unfinished, and swirled it's amber contents. If Davik was coming with drinks, then perhaps he wasn't all bad. She eyed the transaction suspiciously however, before absently wiping one of her eyes with her fingertips.

"I'm Jhéne," she paused, a smirk crossing mouth as she leaned on arm on the table before tipping the glass to her lips and saying "And I'm not lonely" before polishing off the contents. Finished, she sat the empty container down, and gave it a gentle push away from her.

"And you don't look like the type that should be either. What're you doing in here, flyboy? You on a layover or something?" The young woman had seen his type before, his accessories. Working in the undercity's shipyards, she came to pick up some of the nuances that certain flyboys had. Like Davik's sack, for example. Pilots needed to have their equipment on them, and more than what would fit in cargo pockets. Usually parts and accessories for quick adjustments.

@[member="Davik Tren"]
 
The Black Flame
Writer
Ronin continued to search around the bar, taking note of a man who seemed to want him to come over. Fel sighed and was about t take the bait when an old woman came over to the man and began chatting with him. Odd, Ronin thought to himself I could have swore that man was looking at me...no matter, there is little time to partake in conversation anyway. The sooner I am off this planet, the better.

Continuing his looking, Fel's eyes finally fell upon a woman chatting to another man near the bar. Ronin didn't move toward her, not yet anyway, he just took a few moments to scan between the datapad and the woman. Nothing about his mannerisms were sneaky, but like he had said to himself earlier...he was no detective. Even so, there were some major differences between the picture on the datapad and the woman. For one, the image he had depicted that she'd be much plumper and her eyes were closer together and her hair was a slightly different brown. Still, this image wasn't exact and they had used an old photograph to piece together a rough image of what they thought the woman would look like now.

After a few last looks, Ronin began to feel the eyes of the whole bar starting to turn their gaze towards him. This wasn't good, all it took was one paranoid thug to ruin his day. With a sigh, he tucked the pad back into his pocket. It was better to just walk up and ask than stand around and wait for someone to shoot him in the back of the head because they thought he was a bounty hunter. Taking a gulp of air, Ronin strode over to @[member="Jhéne Ailo"] with a confidence and swagger that defiantly did not fit the planet.

Upon approaching, Ronin saw that the man had replied to whatever it was that his target had said. "Pardon my interruption." Ronin said in an all too proper tone for Nar Shadaa, before locking his eyes onto the woman of the pair "You seem to look very familiar...is your name Jhene, by chance?"
 

Davik Tren

The Friendly Fiend
Writer
Davik downed the small glass of liquid rather quickly, as he did not intend on staying much longer due to the recent filling of the cantina. The spacer noticed a very out of place man quite especially, for this man seemed to be looking for someone. Davik hated OTHER bounty hunters, they were always looking for someone or something, no time for a nice conversation. That being said, he normally did not have interactions like this either, but at least this one did not appear to be looking for him.

"Well. I guess you could say I am on layover, yes. I do a lot of off-planet work... And I don't suppose you are here for any particular reas-.."

Davik's sentence was cut short as the man quite noticeably marched across the bar to the small booth that he had been seated at with Jhéne. The man certainly did look more out place up close than from across the bar. Davik idly moved his hand down to the small blaster that was at his side, at the sight of the datapad in the man's hand. He had certainly no intentions of using it outright, but if the man were here to cause some sort of trouble or perhaps hinder the woman in any way, then it would get very heated in the cantina indeed.

@Ronin Fel
@Jhéne Ailo
 

Jhéne Ailo

Guest
J
She was never coming to this bar again.
The patrons were far too chatty. And, with the arrival of another person who knew.her.name it was enough to warrant her dislike in the facility entirely.
Every muscle in her body tensed, even to the point where her hand stopped quivering.

Her dark eyes narrowed into beady slits. At least this seeming gentleman hadn't presumed he could sit down. He was respectful in that manner. But his gaze was steely and full of intent, one that Jhéne couldn't source. It wasn't malicious, nor benevolent; it was just focused. But on what?

"Familiar?" The dark-haired woman repeated, suspicion dripping from every syllable. She shouldn't look familiar because he didn't. And Jhéne had a memory for faces. Or, she used to at least before abusing substances and eroding her brain's capacity by ten fold. "The chances are high, yes." Even his pronunciation was on point, considering he was likely reading it from some sort of -- oh yes. A datapad. She noticed.

"Who's asking? Who are you?"

@[member="Davik Tren"] | @[member="Ronin Fel"]
 
The Black Flame
Writer
@[member="Jhéne Ailo"] @[member="Davik Tren"]

With a polite nod, Ronin took a step back and held his hand out to shake Ailo's hand and then moved to shake the hand of the man sitting beside her. After that business was done, Ronin began to speak in a very articulate and elegant tone

"My name is Ronin, I am here representing the will of some close family friends from Corellia. A Miss Hartkin has implored me to seek out a young lady who was in the care of her orphanage many years ago." turning back to the man, Ronin could see a very suspicious look across his face. It was no surprise, this was a Black Sun world and Hutt space was not known for harboring the most civilized or well intentioned folks of the galaxy "I assure you that I mean neither of you no harm, young man."
 

Jhéne Ailo

Guest
J
Jhéne obliged, and shook the man's hand, although she was cautious and judgemental through the entire process. When he mentioned the Hartkin name, her mind cast backward into a spiral of memories warmer than ones she'd felt in a long time.

Hartkin had been the only person in quite some time, that had shown her any sort of civilized acceptance. Perhaps not the kindest of souls, but Jhéne was a person in her care. And not just a person, but a child. She'd been treated appropriately at each stage of her life, up until her adoption which transitioned into a whole new realm.

"You're lying." She finally conceived, bewildered at the idea and outright dumbfounded.

"And if you're not, what business would someone like Hartkin have with me?" A wry grin crossed her lips and her attitude shone through once again. "Reputations on the line?"

@[member="Davik Tren"] | @[member="Ronin Fel"]
 
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