So a Mon Cal and a Sith Wannabe Walk into a Spaceport...

[Darth Imperia]

[member="Onru"]

As Mala had said many times before, she loved Nar Shaddaa.

But she didn't want to stay there for too long, and it was for that reason that she was quite upset to hear that her trip back to Coruscant had been delayed - Surely one horrible death wasn't enough to cancel a journey? This was Nar Shaddaa! Horrible deaths happened on a regular basis here!

But her Tantrum was pointless, and she knew it. Acting like a petulant child wasn't going to get her anywhere, and it certainly wasn't going to get her in control again.

So Mala did what she always did when things like this happened. She sat down at a bench, folded her legs, and began to meditate. Not the sort of meditation that one did within the confines of a Qabbrat, but a far more mundane form of the art which allowed her to think clearly and without emotional interruption, when necessary.

What Is the Problem that needs solving? The Answer to that question was seemingly simple; she needed to get off of Nar Shaddaa. But as with most things, the simplest answer was not the correct one. Being stuck on Nar Shaddaa for a few more days was certainly irritating, but it was survivable. No, the real problem was that she was dependent on trade vessels and transport vehicles to maneuver about the galaxy. For an Aspiring Sith Lady, this was a problem. Dark Siders were not well-liked in the galaxy, it turned out.

Shocking.

And how do I fix that? Another deceptively easy question. The most obvious answer was learn to fly a ship. That could be useful, in the future, but it wasn't at the moment. She supposed she could Hijack a ship, but that brought on so much unwanted attention. So she needed a pilot, but a willing (or close enough to willing) one.

And, of course, she needed a ship. She wasn't poor, by any means, but she could hardly afford even the cheapest hyper-space capable vehicle on the market.

She'd never stolen a space ship before.

This was going to be fun.

 

[Onru]

Onru smelled something in the air. It was hard to identify the scent, but it was a familiar one, one that made him stop mid-conversation with an old droid he'd been talking to for some time now.

"Sir, are you there?" The protocol droid waved a rusty hand in front of the Mon Cal's eyes before pointing to a device held in his other hand. "I'm willing to go down in price. This datapad is top of the line. I can assure you this is quite the bargain."

"Uh, maybe next time." Onru firmly grabbed hold of the straps of his generator pack lugged on his backside and hurried along. He kept his snout in the air, trying to hone in on where that smell was coming from. It brought back memories of home. Good ones. The kind that he held onto when things got rough as Mahuva's indentured slave. It was distinct and freshly scented, something one of the Hutt's cooks gave him after hours, but for the life of Onru he couldn't remember the name, or even what the dish looked like anymore.

He zig zagged through a bustling marketplace bazaar, but as he trekked deeper, Onru was bombarded by the overwhelming aromas of grilled foods and exotic fish from street vendors. The Mon Cal frantically sniffed the air to try and get a whiff of that familiar scent again, but it was lost in the cluster.

"Damn." He sighed, but wasn't about to give up now. Onru began walking up and down the market, frantically searching for that sweet taste of home.

"Hey!" Someone called out to him, but the Mon Cal was too focused on his crusade to look up. "Blue and Green Calamari!"

Onru finally turned to face a human with a group of Nikto aliens filing in behind him, armed with blasters.

"There he is boys! Set to stun!" The human shouted. "Mahuva wants him alive!"

"Oh, come on!" Onru dashed and leaped and rolled, evading stun lasers spiraling all around him.

[member="Mala Arar"]

 

[Darth Imperia]

Blasterfire.

Mala's eyes snapped open and she darted out of her seat like a snake on novacoke, her pistol already drawn. There was no reason to get involved. Not logically, at least. But, who knew? Maybe whoever she killed would have a ship. Besides, she needed practice. How long had it been since she'd been in a fight? Three, four years? Too long, however long it was.

The young Sith opened the door to the streets of Nar Shaddaa, immediately faced (metaphorically speaking; his back was to her) by a hunched Nikto who had, apparently, enough credits for a shiny new carbine, but not enough credits for a pair of pants without holes in them.

His attire was the first thing she noticed about him. The second was that he had friends. Three other Nikto and a human, by the looks of it, all attempting to roast a Mon Cal...engineer, if his generator pack was anything to go by.

Perfect.

Krak went the bolt. Point blank shot, center of mass, with a DL-44 Blaster Pistol (An old model, Mala knew, but a reliable one nonetheless)...the poor bastard didn't stand a chance. Down went one bounty hunter, or assassin, or whatever he was. Mala didn't really care.

Her next shot was aimed for the human, the apparent leader of the group, and he went down too.

And then the remaining bounty hunters noticed her, and things got far more difficult. A shot flew by her head, and the young Acolyte let out a very Un-Sithly 'eep!' before ducking back behind the door and firing a few blind shots from behind cover.

Mala hoped, for his sake, that this Mon Cal was worth all the trouble.

[member="Onru"]