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"We should do this again sometime." - Kadora'Tra as "KitKat" to Xan Deesa before her demise
Life would never be the same for Kadora'Tra. After spending her entire life climbing the impossible social ladder of the Corporate Authorities as an alien orphan, she had not only squandered her hard-earned position of power and respect but was now in the most vulnerable position she had ever been in her life.
Xan Deesa had offered her safety with Darkwire if she defected. Then, Xan died. Feeling obligated to the person who had removed the Doppelgangers from her life, Kadora'Tra had looked into the circumstances of her benefactor's death and discovered a horrifying secret she wasn't meant to know. Her mind still existed, uploaded to Blackheart's data servers. She couldn't let something like that exist, especially alongside what she knew Diviak Manfloon was going to unleash on Belazura. CAD was preparing to make the mild anarchy of Xopsaloff's death look like a party candle, and Kadora'Tra needed Xan.
She risked everything and somehow, managed to escape it all unscathed. The digital echo of Xan Deesa ran wild through the corporate networks, and somehow Kadora'Tra had evaded detection. In fact, Kadora'Tra was officially missing. A bounty was out to find her whereabouts. Except these days, Kadora'Tra was nowhere to be found.
Pretending to be a human with blonde hair, she walked into an unfamiliar place. Xan had informed her it was a good idea to get here and let loose. Kitkat didn't know how that was possible after living in a semi-comfortable slum where no one would think to look for her alter-ego. As a fugitive in disguise, going out to a public place seemed like a pretty terrible idea. Xan insisted, though, and Kitkat walked into what looked like the sparsest convenience shop she had ever seen.
"Looks like you've seen some rough times," Kitkat said, a phrase she was told to say.
"We still have a few things for sale. What are you looking for?" The shopkeeper asked.
"I think I'll just browse in the back for a while. Looking for something soft." After saying the final phrase, the shopkeeper nodded, acknowledged her, and then beckoned her towards a wall, not in the back. Eventually, he uncovered a hatch, and she descended into a completely different place entirely. The hatch closed up above her, and Kitkat could see the dim lighting, the soft thrum of relaxing music, and the bubbling voices of casual conversation.
She walked in and started to see familiar faces, though none of them were familiar with Kitkat. Looking around, she saw other entrances to this underground haven, with the occasional individual filing in.
A secret part of her was impressed with the establishment. It would take a long while before CorpSec could catch wind of this place.
Sprinting through a back alley in Baker's Row, a CorpSec officer frequently looked behind him to make sure he was alone. His armour was battered but he was surprisingly unscathed. The blood splattered over him was from his partner who wasn't so lucky. Their speeder had wrecked against a street lamp only a few moments ago and he was still dazed from the impact and what he saw.
:: This is Henrick, requesting backup! Dammit, is anyone there? :: He shouted into his commlink as he stopped between two dumpsters to hide from his pursuer. He didn't see her after the crash and that was what scared him the most. :: Is anyone- :: his hail was cut short with static that lasted for a very long time. He stared in confusion at his commlink until the static stopped.
:: I see you... ::
The voice was calm and, quite frankly, amused as it giggled over his commlink. His breathing escalated as he drew his pistol and carefully peered past the dumpsters. "I-if you don't show yourself and surrender right now, I'll-I'll..." His voice trembled almost as much as the hand holding his gun up as he carefully stepped out of his hiding spot.
"You'll what?"
He spun around and fired wildly towards where he heard the voice. His eyes were wide with confusion. He heard her behind him! His free hand brought his commlink up again to radio for help... only this time there was no signal at all. With a frustrated shout he hurled the device at the wall and ran down the alley again. He didn't know where he was anymore, all he wanted was to get away from whoever was chasing him.
He wasn't sure for how long he ran, only that a shadow ahead of him caused him to come to an abrupt halt. His pistol came to life as he fired at where he saw the movement. The shots... scored? They impacted and he could hear soft grunts as he slowly approached the dark alley. He was about to get hopeful until blue and pink neons flickered to life around the figure still standing tall across from him. "Henrick, right?" She spoke up casually as she slowly approached him. "Don't try to run again, I'm not in the mood for games." Before he realized it, she was in front of him with her hand gripping his pistol.
In one simple motion she tossed it aside and took hold of his hand. "You're not gonna die tonight, choom. You got too important a job for me." He yanked his shaky hand away and stepped away from her. "The hell are you on about?!" He shouted at her in fear and anger. A dark giggle escaped her as she advanced until he was backed into a corner. Her demonic mask stopped mere inches from his face as she leaned in. "Go ask your bosses if they remember my announcement. Tell them that the station was only the start." She muttered.
Without a word she stepped away and her neons shut down again. She was gone in the blink of an eye.
A long while after Kitkat entered the speakeasy, she arrived as well. Scorch marks stained her jacket and shirt, though there was no damage beyond that. Xan looked around for a moment only to tense up in surprise at the sight of her old contact. She stood like an idiot in the doorway with wide eyes as she regarded the other people in there.
Cyran had been trying to get a foot hold on Denon once more. Although he didn’t quite like or ever really agree with those in power over the urban planet. They paid handsomely and were the “proper” authorities. Coming back down south some into Galactic Alliance space once more. With this so-called second hyperspace war going on factions were spending good money on contractors like himself. However, Cyran was a bounty hunter, he wasn’t a soldier. He would do what he could under his specialization, even if many like him blurred the lines.
Currently Cyran was searching for a recent bounty set by CorpSec to find the whereabouts of one of their operatives it seemed. Officially going MIA. Perhaps this was a search and rescue, or it could be they did this themselves. Cyran wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was their name, that they are an officer of CorpSec, that they are a Farghul, and lastly what they looked like. Which would be most useful for his two exploration droids who could cover a lot of ground as they flew around.
All the while Cyran rode on his crescent shaped speeder bike through the streets of Seven Corners. It was a place he was somewhat familiar with and did a job there once before. There he would ask around some of the established locals if they were familiar with any supposed CorpSec Farghul they knew of. However, Cyran really wasn’t running into a lot of luck. But one of the locals, a more shady character, was willing to give Cyran a possible lead that could help them some. With an exchange of credits he was able to learn about a local underground speakeasy as well as the code to get in. There he could probably get some better information. But if he didn’t get a lead, knowing about a place like this was still useful intel for him regardless. Hopping back onto his speeder bike he zipped off towards the direction of the establishment.
It was weird being on Denon these days. She had to lay low, stick to back alleys, not get noticed by the local authorities. Technically, there wasn;t a bounty on her head or even a warrant out for her arrest. But she sold a patent to Locke and Key Mechanics, and made the most powerful corporation leader in the galaxy vilify their entire organization in the process. No doubt they had more discreet people out searching for her, ready to quietly shove her in the back of a speeder never to be seen again. Sure, she'd chop up whoever tried, but she wanted to lay low if possible. Why had she returned to Denon? For a search, truly. Back on the farghul's birthday, Sutaz had given her commlink info so Kadora could call anytime she wanted. The calls had stopped coming in, and it seemed Kadora had disappeared off of the face of the galaxy.
Her teeth grit with rage as she steps into the speakeasy. If CorpSec had done away with Kadora, that was yet another reason to tear them to the ground. She would stop at nothing until Denon's corporate overlords were nothing but ash and dust. Black eyes scan the speakeasy. The nautolan was wearing her typical black bodysuit with a short brown leather jacket, though it was covered up by a cloak at the moment. As she arrives at the convenience shop counter, and speaks to the person manning it. "Looks like you've seen some rough times." The man gives her a strange look for a moment before hesitatedly speaking. "We still have a few things for sale. What are you looking for?"
"I think I'll just browse in the back for a while." She states simply. Soon enough, she was allowed to descend down the hatch. She kept track of all the odd places darkwire had hidden in nooks and crannies of Denon. One never knows when they might be useful.
It's then that kitkat would perhaps see the most familiar face of them all walk by. None other than Shot Sutaz walking past to find a seat in one of the booths along the wall. She looks....worried, concerned....though an even more rare emotion for her is prevalent on her face as well. She looks....afraid. Once having arrived at the booth, she sits down, picking up a menu to look at the obscure drinks this place no doubt had laying around for purchase. No matter how calm, it's not a real party without drinks.
It was safe in the speakeasy. Sometimes he had to remind himself of that. A lifetime of running had drilled the importance of moving into him. Used to be, he’d hop between Chelik-taan to stay ahead of the Corpo dogs and bounty hunters that came baying for his blood. Now he was all but stagnant. His injuries had left him on bed rest for weeks now, and the corpos knew of all the older chelik-taan. The safe houses he had spent so long building up had come crashing down in a single moment of weakness and pain.
Laughter filled the room like a flash bang. Quick and sudden, leaving silence in its abrupt wake. Pupiless eyes flicked up, catching on the crowd of youths. They huddled around a table, bottles of alcohol grasped in hands or resting before them. The sight of it made him smile. Perhaps he should see about getting the gang back together. They’d been with him when the Blue Flame was raided, and he’d sacrifice his freedom to make sure they were safe. Checking on them was one of the first things he did after Xan freed him. They’d escaped and were now back at Tatooine and spread across the interstellar Freedom Trail. It would be nice to see them again, but it wouldn’t be tonight. Tonight was something different.
Tonight was a night to celebrate. He had finally, after all the bed rest and the medicine and the slowly healing wounds, been cleared for physical therapy. He wasn’t healed, but he was well on his way to getting there.
The sound of a door opening drew his eye. He’d invited Cartri Keswoll
out to celebrate, hoping for a night of drinks and revelry that didn’t end in a seccer raid. Not that it was his only problem. After his capture, people had thought him dead. They'd made him into a folk hero. He could understand, truly he could. Despite the secrets prized by his people, he was never one for subtly. His fighting style was bright and flashy, many people had seen him go down at the Blue Flame. Many more had caught his act at the Curfew Rally a few weeks before then. Shooting lightning was bound to draw some eyes. Most still thought him dead, but he'd been out enough for there to be rumors of his survival. The last thing he wanted today was to reveal that. Not now, not while he was still healing.
Finding this particular hideout wasn't exactly hard, that is for someone like Hacks. She had helped establish a vast underground network on Denon with the assistance of Enigma and the earliest members of the Darkwire network. Many of those earliest shadowrunners had vanished over time, likely their bodies dumped in a trash compactor. Hacks had almost played victim to that same fate now, but had cheated death twice. Although she was less human for it. She rolled her shoulder, the new cybernetic implant felt familiar yet alien. Daiya's blaster had melted through flesh and bone and left Hacks shoulder almost completely missing.
"Wasn't much of a rescue," Hacks explained to those at her booth. A yellow energy field surrounded the table, silencing their voices to those outside its sphere. Many of these hideouts had them to prevent eavesdropping, although a rare sight in public cantinas. "The docs said when the brain implant broke it was making my brain swell, which explains why I couldn't think straight." She explained just who the bounty hunter was, oft coined the Hammerhead, he had beat her to a pulp. An old associate of the famous bounty hunter, Ghorua the Shark. The Hammerhead had taught Ghorua, and they had become a team for a short lived time.
"You've heard of that crime lord out Antecedent way, Lysle of the Hydian Way? He ran the Red Raven Syndicate for a time, ruled Nar Shaddaa." The table listened attentively, a mix of older shadowrunners, gangsters, slicers and general troublemakers. "Yeah, he's the boss that took down the Black Suns," chirped a younger slicer. "Yeah, he's hunting down some of the old Ravens that are hiding out on Denon, that includes me," she thumbed her own chest with a metal finger. "Word is Lysle's looking to set up here, the Hammerhead's always been one of his favoured hunters. He's just the st-." The energy field evaporated suddenly. The entire table looked up at the disturbance, Hacks turning in her chair.
A burly Devaronian with sharpened horns broke his way through the tranquillity field with boisterous laughter. "Good to have you back," he roared, tossing credits across the table, "First drinks on me." Hacks smiled warmly, her eyes squinting under her heavy shades. "Been awhile, a year?" the Devaronian said, "Something like that, lots of new faces," she replied, lazily pointing around the room. She didn't recognise even a third of the shadowrunners in the speakeasy. The man took a seat and shrugged, "People die quick round 'ere, and plenty of people to replace them." Hacks turned from the crimson skinned alien and took a closer look around the room, "Yeah, you're right," she trailed off, "Easy to replace. . ."
"Can I get a....half-ki with blue milk cheese, a double order of sweetroot fries, and an extra-large drink?"
A growly Herglic rattled off their order in the line ahead, punctuating it with smacking with its lips and slobbering with its tongue. Daiya watched with interest as the gigantic land-whale paid and stepped aside, letting the line move forward. Slowly, she followed its glacial pace, stepping closer to the counter one order at a time.
When the tray with the Herglic's order arrived, her eyes grew as wide as saucers.
There was so much food. A burger the size of her head, endless golden tubers sticking out of paper-lined baskets, and a beverage as big as a punch bowl. The teen could barely fathom it all, and glanced at the menu to check how much it must have cost. Her eyes bulged even more when she spied the price. It was cheap. No, it was dirt cheap! Her stomach rumbled, and for a moment the girl forgot she wasn't in line for food.
So what if Huttaburger was rumored to use industrial waste as fillers?
An expectant noise at the counter drew her attention again, and Daiya realized that her turn had arrived. She flicked her head, tossing her curls until the fell across the side of her face like a veil, shielding her from seeing the trays of food being put out for other customers. She glanced up at the menu for a moment, but of course her request wasn't on that menu. It couldn't be. "I'll have a Greedy Meal with extra greedy."
The cashier paused, a finger hovering over a button, to look up at the girl. "So you want a Double Greedy Meal?"
Her eyes flicked over to the Herglic's tray of food, but all she could see was the blonde hair blocking her vision. The teen shook her head, enunciating the words so the worker could hear the phrase properly. "No, I want a Greedy Meal, with extra greedy."
"I'll handle this." A squat Chadra-Fan stepped up, her yellow eyes sizing Daiya up from a head shorter. The girl nearly shrank back at the sight of the dark-furred roden, but set her jaw instead, resisting the urge to fold her arms. The Chadra-Fan manager finished her appraisal, her mouth splitting open to reveal a pair of yellowed knives jutting out of her gums. Then she tossed her head toward the side of the restaurant. "Follow me, I have your order all ready in back."
Daiya nodded, following without a word. There wasn't much else to do, now she'd see if this was a real passage or not. She hadn't felt anything odd so far, besides crippling hunger that is, and she wasn't so skittish as to flee at a single twitch either. The young shadowrunner was here like any normal being on Denon, if any Corpo asked she had just been messing around with her order.
So far so good, the manager led her back behind the counter and through the kitchen. Daiya ignored the odd looks, there were only one or two of them from the busy kitchen staff, and followed the manager towards the rear of the kitchen. She had envisioned some secret door or an entrance hidden behind some crates in the pantry, but the Chadra-Fan grabbed the latch of the very obvious, walk-in freezer and pulled it open instead.
"In here." Daiya raised a skeptical eyebrow at the woman, nerves starting to creep in on her now. She couldn't see into the freezer yet, for all she knew this was exactly the trap part of some Corpo trap, and the teen was going to be kept on ice —literally— until CorpSec arrived to take her away. "Hurry up, you're letting all the cold out."
The teen shrugged, and stepped through the translucent plasticene drapes and into the freezer behind. She gasped as the door shut solidly behind her, watching her breath crystalize in front of her face. Nerves turned to fear, settling as a pit in her stomach, before Daiya noticed the extra set of drapes at the other side of the cold storage room. She approached, pulling them aside to spy a set of stairs leading down toward another, identical door as the one she'd just stepped through.
"Whew." The girl's audible exhale took with it her fears, and she stepped lively down the stairs. Quickly at the end of it, rushing to the door and throwing her weight against it, relief palpable on her forehead when she opened the door into a dimly lit, comfortably warm hallway that led to the speakeasy beyond.
So her source had been right about one thing at least, there was a new lowlife lounge in town.
The air was sweet with scum and the scent of desperation, a welcome respite to the sterile halls of Corpodom or the greasy stench of the Huttaburger above her. Daiya grinned to herself as she took it all in, idly wondering if her source was right on the second part as well. The music and lighting was meant to set her at ease, yet the blonde-haired teen stayed on alert until she spied her quarry.
There. Chatting with some Devaronian, who loomed over the table in the way the devilish race commonly did. Always trying to be the most badass. The young shadowrunner had to stop herself from uttering a laugh at the thought, between Hacks and some Devaronian, there was no contest. Daiya had felt the power of the cyborg woman's mechanical arms up close, far too close.
Daiya folded her arms across her chest, a shiver running down her spine as she turned away. It wasn't a memory she needed to revisit so soon, but it was one that kept the teen on her toes. She was paying to keep tabs on the cyborg woman, and was lucky that the tip had come to her tonight. With the kind of atmosphere and opportunity that the speakeasy could well provide, Hacks could do plenty of damage before anyone was onto her.
For now, Daiya was the only one smart enough to see it.
The others would come around, she was sure of it. Whatever Hacks was now —and the girl had been thoroughly corrected on the fact that this woman was, indeed, Hacks— it wasn't the same Hacks she had known. That shadowrunner was dead, and this woman was going to have to earn back that kind of trust the old fashioned way, at least in Daiya's eyes.
Climbing up to the bar counter, the girl pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She sat with the side of her face to the woman, wanting to be seen more than she wanted to observe. Her ears were focused on the conversation at Hacks' table, but Daiya motioned for the bartender anyway, ordering without a thought. "A Meltdown."
She was sized up for the second time that evening, but now Daiya barely blinked. The bartender made a glaring noise, and then she looked at the man for the first time.
Really? She was the problem when Hacks was sitting right over there?
"Fine, a Hyperdrive, whatever!" Daiya could barely think straight now, irritated by the sequence of events that led her here. Here, instead of the Blue Flame where the bartender snuck her real drinks. Here, through the maze of pass-phrases and freezing entrances. Here, waiting for Hacks to show her true colors. She could be out making real credits for herself, and instead the teen was stuck trying to protect Darkwire from a threat it refused to believe was real.
She at least believed her ears as the teen heard the last thing Hacks said. Then Daiya rolled her eyes, burying her head in the hands she laid on the countertop. "Feth me."
Most days, Moya spent in hiding aboard her ship, with her rabbits. They had used to be Laertia's but now they were hers. Kava had disappeared. Moya had spent weeks searching, never giving up. It had drove her databases to immense frustration and panic.
Her Mercury Class Courier had made its way to Denon. She wanted somewhere big and for her to get lost in. She had "purchased" some high quality faked identification cards and papers after using her Pheremones to charm them out of the hands of an expert Forger familiar with Denon security.
For once, Moya felt relief at not having to be stopped twice at security checkpoints, the currently green skinned, curvy and muscular Biot in a black armored catsuit assumed to be working for the Corpos based on her credentials. The truth was that she had come here simply to be in hiding and find a way to remain hidden.
Walking the streets of the urban jungle, in the open was an exercise in pure, unbridled paranoia. Three times in the past few months bounty hunters had caught up with her.
She had heard of a speakeasy where she might find members of the infamous Dark Wire faction. Shadow runners who might be able to provide her with better, more permanent means of concealing her ID...
The unfriendly skyscrapers got even uglier as she went to the seedy part of town. She noticed a bunch of different augmented gangs looking at her funny. She paid them no mind. Her Pheremones counted as a military grade chemical weapon in some circles.
As she walked to her destination, some of the gangs began to follow her, she tensed, cutting into an alleyway. They followed.
Moya grew annoyed as her exit route was cut off.
"Really? I just got here..." Moya called out to them, exasperated.
One heavily augmented man with cybernetics in his eyes grinned.
"Been a long time since these eyes have scanned tech like yours. We don't get too many Vong products out here. You a prototype or something?"
"I didn't come here to play twenty questions..." Moya replied.
"Ah, well...just the same. You made a bad choice coming to Denon, freak. Corpos will pay good money to get you on an operating table and see what makes you tick."
"Is that so?" Moya asked, pumping her Pheremones out to maximum, the suit she wore enhancing their effect, working on skin contact.
The gangmember chuckled.
"Nice try, but Counter Pheremone augments were the first thing me and the gang invested in."
"Did you invest in high grade combat implants as well?" Moya asked.
"Of course. Now, how about you make easy on yourself, and just walk quietly with us to this repulsor truck we--"
Moya's fist shot out at lightning speed, crashing into the man's neck and breaking it.
The other cyborgs moved in on her, but the already fast and strong Biot had her reflexes and strength further enhanced by the suit she wore, and she grabbed the corpse, swinging him like club brutally at the others, mangling his corpse in the process of hitting them. Her databases countering their combat implants, using different martial arts styles in a dizzying combination of offense and defense, foiling the best hand to hand assaults of her multiple assailants, bashing in faces, breaking necks, dodging weapons fire integrated in the cybernetics or separate firearms entirely.
Soon, all but one was dead. Unfortunately for Moya, he managed to get a shot off first with his heavy blaster which blasted her right in the back, opening a hole in the front. She was thrown forward, stunned, and struggled to rise as he took aim...
A sound of whistling through the air and he was suddenly dead, fallen face first, a throwing knife in his head. Moya rose, the wound nearly sealed.
She stared at the one who interfered.
It was a young woman, seemingly clad in a shiny, metallic black catsuit with silvery spikes at key points. But Moya knew better.
There is no need to explain how it got here undetected. Virtually nothing can keep one out when it decides it wants in. There were dozens of ways it could sneak in.
They are utterly lethal. Virtually no enemy who has encountered one has survived, save the Lord Commander DECEASED Erskine Barran
and perhaps a handful of others.
Moya knew exactly how deadly they were. Deadly enough that even she feared the idea of facing one.
The Nanite Assassin Droid walked calmly towards her, carrying a small bag. Moya tensed, unsure what to do.
"Greetings, Grandmother. Mother sends her well wishes." The Nanite Entity said in a calm reassuring manner that all but screamed I'm not here to end you.
"What are you doing here, child?" Moya asked, doing her best to be patient and polite.
"There is much opportunity on Denon for the Children of Xiphos. A perfect testing ground for ways to kill. Ways to make money WHILST killing." The Droid answered.
"Child, I left your Mother due to fundamental disagreements with her morality. That opinion has not changed. Especially after Rhand."
"And how have you been rewarded for your morality, Grandmother? You are hunted for your connections. Driven to such lengths that now you venture into even this seedy place. Who do you think keeps most of the Bounty Hunters from bothering you?" The Droid asked. "You may have left Mother, but Mother did not leave you. And as brutal as the Incident at Rhand was, The Brotherhood of the Maw has proven only the harshest, most ruthless measures will even put a dent in them. Mother was perfectly justified in destroying Gihinnom."
"We'll have to disagree on that."
"Be that as it may, Denon was a very dangerous place to choose to hide. You have no friends. No allies. The Corporate Structures here are aggressive and ruthless."
"I can handle myself." Moya replied bluntly.
"That's why you nearly had your operating cycle reach it's expiration date early."
The Droid took a step closer.
"You are still our Grandmother, Moya, even if you are angry at our creator. Will you not accept what we offer for our sake?"
Moya wanted to say no but she knew the young machine bore no fault in Laertia's choices: she was simply carrying out her primary function to the best of her ability.
"Alright, child. What do you offer?"
The Droid silently handed her the bag.
"You'll find everything you need in there. Good day, Grandmother..." The Droid said, walking off.
"I never caught your name, child..." Moya called out.
"Effigy. Effigy Io..." Effigy replied as she walked away.
One hour later...
The Biot was on one knee, in the small, unassuming apartment that had been purchased for her away from the slums, her transformation protocol active, shifting back to her Civilian form. The process took about five minutes, shifting her back from the curvy emerald Olympian who had decimated a cyborg gang to the curvy bronze skinned woman who had once called Laertia Io her daughter.
Her bag contained a few pistols, multiple falsified passports, and mutagen treatments for baffer pollen and Alpha Red exposure.
Double Barreled Over-Under Shotgun that has been shortened so it can be used as a pistol
Item: GRAPPLE PISTOL
Grappling gun that allows traversal to high up places
Moya took only one pistol for now, and three magazines of ammo. The letter inside the bag assured that the manager had been paid enough to not give her up.
She then went back outside, through the streets, drawing even more eyes due to her great beauty, before taking several different, indirect routes through various alleyways that led her to a dingy bar. She hoped Effigy's intel was good. She ordered a double Corpo Martini, extra salt, and was quietly directed to the back where a single, run down turbolift waited. She stepped inside, and the lift creaked uncomfortably down towards an underground tunnels network.
Moya followed where are sensed life, and stepped into a strange speakeasy, full of strange types.
Laertia and Moya had often steered clear of slicers in the old days. Laertia didn't trust them around Moya. The Shadow runner is often much cleverer than they look. Or act, for that matter.
She slinked in, drawing a few heads as she sat at the far end at a table. If necessary, she'd be willing to work for Darkwire to get what she needed, as long as she didn't have to get scanned...
Reclining in what had once been a dentist's chair, Starlin struggled to think through the receding fog of sedatives. "Switch what?" he asked. His tongue felt like it was too big for his mouth.
"From an eyepatch to this?" The Twi'lek cyborg turned around, holding up both the blood-stained remains of Starlin's old eyepatch, and a mechanical facsimile of a human eye. She shook the eye a little, as if it were a little magic 8-ball.
"Uh..." Starlin blinked, staring at the cybernetic eyeball. For some reason, its pupil was fully contracted, making it look like it was suspicious of him. "Well... there's this girl..."
"You did this for a girl?" The Twi'lek smirked as she tossed the eyeball onto her worktable. It rolled around amongst bloody scalpels and loose wires.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "She likes guys that have both their eyes."
That got a laugh out of the cyborg. What he'd said wasn't strictly true, but it wasn't quite a lie either. The eyepatch had always been a temporary fix, just until he got the money to pay for a proper eye. Even then, he'd sort of gotten used to wearing it... until a certain girl asked him what had happened to his eye, and he suddenly remembered what it was like to have a full range of vision.
"Okay then. You're good to go, Smooth Operator."
"Oh wow, thanks," he replied, slowly but surely rising from the chair. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but could walk—provided he had something to hold onto. His field of vision had certainly improved. "This is great, I love it. I'm gonna... tell all my friends about you, baby."
"Thanks." Her voice seemed far behind him already as he staggered out the door and onto the streets of Denon.
Somehow, his half-sedated wanderings carried him inside a convenience store (possibly motivated by a desire for junk food). Unfortunately, it seemed he had walked into the dinkiest, most cleaned-out convenience store on the entire planet. Scanning the nearly empty shelves, Starlin's eyebrows rose. "Looks like you've seen some rough times," he called out to the shopkeep.
"We still have a few things for sale. What are you looking for?" The shopkeeper asked.
Starlin scratched his chin and yawned. "I think I'll just browse in the back for a while."
Suddenly the shopkeep was at his arm, guiding him toward another part of the store. Starlin gave him an odd look, not sure where this was going, but in the state he was in, he didn't bother to question it.
Before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of a seedy speakeasy, accessed via a hidden passage at the back of the store. Starlin just stood there for several seconds, stupefied, his gaze wandering around the room as he processed what had just occurred. Had he, like, accidentally said a secret password to get in here or something...?
Eventually Cyran made it to his destination. Parking and stepping off his speederbike he didn’t really expect much in the way of combat, he would hate to rush into some fine establishment and cause problems. No he would go as a visitor, but maybe a cautious visitor. “P4, Be on standby just in case.” Cyran spoke through the comms in his helmet to his droid co-pilot. Making sure they had their ship ready just in case. His radio was filled with a small barrage of beeps of chirps from the astromech.
With that done he let out a sigh before walking in. It looked more like a modest corner store than anything. Clearly it had to be a front or cover of some kind, he wondered if he should be more well mannered and take off his helmet. Figuring there was no reason to come off as recluse or rude he took off the bright blue helmet. The zeltron was being eyed by the shopkeeper behind their counter.
“I was told you folks had some decent software here?” He spoke, wondering if that was good enough. However they clearly got the hint before nodding and leading Cyran into the back room and down a set of stairs. The zeltron soon found itself in a seemingly whole other establishment. Thanking the shop keeper before they went back to the counter Cyran looked around some at the underground bar with his helmet in his hands. However, he was hit with an overwhelming but familiar sense. Someone here seemed to give off some rather potent pheromones. Probably even more potent to someone like him since zeltrons would have a biologically are pretty receptive to stuff like that. But then again he was more accustomed than regular humans to handle stuff like that and not lose himself.
But with a quick glance he didn’t see any other zeltrons or faleens in the speakeasy. He was simply here to ask around, and maybe get some leads as to the MIA corpo operative he was searching for. Making his way over to the bar, ordering an Outer Rim.He just hoped that being all kitted out wouldn't give people the wrong idea that he was here to cause problems.
The beverage looked unappealing from the moment the bartender set it down in front of her.
Fruity and loud, with carbonated bubbles that surfaced with the slightest audible pop, it promised fun and excitement between its twin colors. Teal and red juices combined without mixing, an act of defiance that made up for its lack of alcohol. Or it should have, if the teen had managed to consider it with anything less than disdain. The tall glass of sugary liquid seemed to taunt her as much as the idle conversations and laughter that drifted across the speakeasy.
Daiya didn't expect to join them tonight, as much as she wanted to. The girl lived for the variety of discussions in a dingy, smokey tavern. Lively or sedate, it didn't matter, someone was usually saying something worth listeningn to. Nor was Daiya usually shy about prompting them for more, it was how she heard about places like this after all. No, tonight Daiya expected she would sit in vigil, waiting for Hacks to let her truth slip or make a move.
Stakeouts usually needed more staying power than sheer grit. Hunger poked at her, and the teen took a sip of the beverage anyway. Sweetness overrode spite as she swallowed the fruity concoction, enjoying it despite herself.
She forced herself to put it down, but the affects were already working on her. As if the room had taken on a new color, Daiya glanced around. Her eyes picked out the bright colors of a few of the newcomers, including a few that looked vaguely familiar.
And one who seemed frightingly familiar stepping up to the bar near her.
"Hey look, it's Blank Canvas. Did you change your mind, can I paint your armor now?" The teen looked in appraisal at the Zeltron's armor, which was far more blue than the last time she had seen it, but was definitely still the same stuff. She had never seen the man beneath it, though, and she found that even without the helmet he was just as hard to read. One hand dropped down to her side in case she needed to defend herself in here.
Daiya hoped nobody was stupid enough to start a fight in a hidden, underground speakeasy.
"Actually, you can help me." The girl grinned, her eyes darting over towards Hacks to make sure her quarry hadn't vanished.
Still here.
Leaning in towards the armored Zeltron, the young shadowrunner spoke in a low voice, "I have a job for you." She tossed her head over towards the cybernetic woman talking with the Devaronian still hanging around her table. "Her."
Cyran looked over at the one who spoke to him. Having not recognized the individual until now. He raised an eyebrow, she seemed a little young for a human to be hanging around a place like this, especially at the bar. He smirked at her comment about getting his armor painted. He shook his head some as he got his drink from the bartender. “I’ll actually be returning this old armor soon. Got my eyes on an old lightweight powersuit to use instead. Though I’ll probably keep the colors I have on now.” He replied to her, while noticing her bring her hand down to her side, presumably if he caused trouble.
He looked a little confused as she asked him for some help. She quickly pointed out a rather heavily looking cybernetic woman in the room. Looking back down at the teen he replied. “I have a feeling you don’t really have the authority to hire my services.” He said, Cyran really only took bounty style jobs from official authorities, or the “most official” if a planet or sector was particularly lawless. “Unless you’re not looking for me to see her as a mere acquisition. She’d take your lunch money or something?” He joked, referencing the teen’s young age. Now taking a sip from his cocktail, which wasn’t the best, turns out a cocktail named the outer rim was better served in, well, the outer rim.
All the while he continued to pick up on the almost overwhelming volume of pheromones that one of the other patrons here seemed to be giving off. Yet still he can’t really tell who was the source of it. Looking back over at the women the teen was telling him to help out with. “But seriously what the deal with the women over there that you'd need my help for? And maybe you can help me with my own task.” He didn’t really think that the girl wanted his services as a bounty hunter.
Moya, not noticing Starlin Rand
, her one time patient after Dantooine, where Cotan Sar'andor
had given him the Cloud City Special, had no idea at all how this whole Darkwire thing worked. Would flagging someone down be treated with suspicion? What was the lingo? How does one negotiate?
The stress of trying to process these variables caused Moya to retreat emotionally into her stored bio-memory banks...
[Playback Initiated]
Moya and Laertia tended to the pet rabbits on her ship. Laertia had different names for them, all based on different Lightsaber Resistant Materials. She fed them different treats. Laertia was frugal with money, but when she did spend it, she would often spend more on her rabbits than anything else. New bedding, bigger pens, larger water reservoirs.
Laertia was only really happy around Moya or her rabbits. They would often drift through space on the edge of civilization, or land on a quiet backwater to decompress and take walks. Whenever Laertia's magician acts couldn't fully afford to pay the bills, she would unhesitatingly pawn off some old deadly weapon taken as a trophy from past enemies slain. She had saved the fuel bill more than once pawning off loot box trash.
When they had finished cuddling their pets, with Laertia doting on the Rabbit she called Cortosis, Laertia and Moya had spent the rest of the day tidying up the Dynamic Class Ship they lived on, ending with Laertia's head on Moya's shoulder as she fell asleep, huddled under a blanket from the extreme chills she got, due to her brain damage.
Moya felt her programming was most fulfilling in those moments. She cared little for the outside world. All that mattered was caring for her injured daughter. Days and hours bled into one another yet she never grew tired of it. Of taking care of her.
Moya knew only contentment. Only the fulfilment of purpose.
[End Playback]
"Looking a bit long in the face, Miss, if you don't mind my saying."
Moya was interrupted from her happy recollection by a rough dressed man, hooded. She knew this type immediately. Shadow runner.
"I was...distracted..." The Biot admitted.
She suddenly glanced in alarm as she spotted none other than Starlin Rand
himself wade into the speakeasy. Chit.
She did her best to avert her gaze, hoping he would not notice.
"I'm looking for ways to fake identification, especially when it comes to sophisticated methods of determining it. Also willing to lend my... assistance...to particular endeavors...even if certain Corpos might be inconvenienced..."
She also caught Cyran Vaas
glancing her direction. Like he could detect her Pheremones. She pretended like the Slicer in front had her full attention as she talked.
"You looking for work eh? Well there's plenty work to be found on Denon..." The Runner said..."Just depends on the type you're best at.
"The type that involves few survivors..." she said quietly.
Despite her efforts not to be noticed, Starlin did recognize Moya. In his current state, with the sedatives still not fully out of his system, he didn't think twice before approaching her. "Hey," he greeted. "'scuse me." He nodded to the Shadowrunner before turning back to Moya, smiling. "You're that doctor who fixed my hand, aren't ya?"
He'd been equally drugged out when the two last met, but he still remembered her face. She had a very distinct look, her dark beauty aging gracefully. If someone had told him Moya's exact relationship with Laertia, he had either conveniently forgotten it or it never registered in his memory to begin with, thanks to all the painkillers he'd been on after Dantooine. As far as he knew, she was just a nice doctor who had helped him, and who happened to be an old associate of Laertia Io.
"Nice to see you again," he continued, holding up his right hand and flexing his fingers. "I'm not sure I ever had the chance to thank you for this. So, uh... thanks. For everything."
For the first time in a while, it was a time for celebration for the darkwire bunch, who were eager to get together and catch up on their daily misdeeds with fellow compatriots. Cartri wasn't too fussed on the whole ordeal and wasn't planning on going out, but someone insisted he'd show for the meetup just so they could talk about a few things. Anakin, a person who he had bumped into on the odd occasion asked if he wanted to go, something of which he accepted with hesitation. Dressed in some regular clothes, he then made his way out onto the cold streets of Denon to the secret location of the speakeasy.
Arriving after a few taxi journeys, he made sure no one was watching before going down a set of steps to the bar. Cartri slowly went inside and glanced around to see a few familiar faces. Some of them were people who he was going to speak to later, while some were individuals who needed to be talked to tonight. Such as the man who was standing next to the bar. Stormrunner had been off the radio for a while, for a time when people thought he was dead. Nonetheless, it seemed he was alive and kicking for now.
Sighing to himself, the boy began walking over to the man and walked past various people, all of which were mostly standing around chatting idly. Although, when he lost looked away for a brief second he bumped into someone he wasn't expecting to see again. The feline from who he stole the badge was standing right before him. The teen couldn't help but gulp from the sight of her, as well as the fact he didn't he was clutching the forearm she scratched on that very night. Choosing not to say a word he cautiously back away from the feline and keep his eyes on her until he was close to Anakin.
His hand would slowly rub the formally injured before turning to look up to Anakin "Well, I finally made it" he said next to him, his head curiously looking back to Kadora to see where she was "Where the hell have you been anyway. I haven't seen you around Denon for a long time" the teen with a small smile, trying his best not to act nervous in front of him or the cat herself
The horned alien stepped around the table and took a seat opposite to Hacks. Her hand waved over the table, activating the translucent yellow field that provided them discretion from outside ears. "Check it," the Devaronian said, sliding an old and battered versafunction88 datapad across the table. The screen displayed a complex system of code. To the untrained eye it didn't look like much, but to a slicer like Hacks it told her everything she needed to know. It was a list of software targets, software used by the Galactic Alliance. More interesting was that the one looking to hire a slicer was a senator of the Galactic Alliance.
"What's the pay?" Hacks asked. "After I take my cut, 150k," the Devaronian shrugged and grinned. Long sharp incisors accentuating the devilish nature of his species. "I'm interested," she replied, sliding back the datapad, "I'll organise a team, but you're paying for my ship to Coruscant." Although Hacks could operate remotely, she preferred to get close enough to get a hardlink into systems she was slicing. "And you'll need this," the Devaronian passed a handgun across the table, "Heard you need some new gear."
Hacks took the slugthrower and hid it in the depths of her jacket. "Thanks," she lightly tapped the tables energy control. The shield vanished. The others around the table had grown silent and used the time to get up and grab another round of drinks. Hacks did the same, stepping away from the table and walking towards the bar. The Devaronian got up and made his way for the exit.
I leaned against the wall and took a long drag off the fancy Corellian cigar I held in my hands. "A reminder of home to take with you", my mother had said as I walked out of the front door all those years ago. She was right, it was a reminder of home. I just wished it it wasn't. I tossed it into the street, as I stepped inside the decrepit doors of the speakeasy, taking in the smell of the smoke and the sounds of music and people loudly conversating, their voices overlapping with the pounding techno song. My contact, an older Rodian gentleman wearing a suit and drinking a beer waved me over to his booth, and I walk over and take a seat. "Now I doubt you're here to make friends, so I'll just get right down to brass tacks." His circular fingered hands reach into a bag sitting on the empty space next to him, and he procures a photo of abalding, orange haired middle aged human male wearing glasses. "This is Denolo Roscalvo. He's an interplanetary arms dealer and smuggler, and we have reason to believe that he's conducting a deal in a warehouse down in the Suicide Slums tomorrow." The man pulls out another photo. Three human males dressed in body armor, wearing wraparound sunglasses and caps point blasters threateningly at the camera.
"And this, is who he's selling to. A human supremacy paramilitary group, Kulak Cheloveka. They are highly organized and well armed, so watch out. You are to bring in the target dead. If you fail to do so, you will not be given your payment. You are to bring in the target in one week, or you will not be given your payment. You must provide your own equipment, no help on this one. CorpSec is not responsible for any injury that may come to you, you know the rest. The location data will be transmitted to your commlink. Good luck."
"Thanks."
I nod in acknowledgement rising to my feet, and walk over to the bar, and ask for a drink. The bartender wheels around, his red Devonian eyes widening, and he recoils a little when he sees my CorpSec body armor. I tell him to relax, that I just want a beer. I place my credits on the bar, and he snatches them up and sets off to work. I take out the photo of Denolo, and I doubt myself for a second. This'll be one helluva mission, I'll have to bring my A-game against this slimy bastard and his friends who play soldier, the same way little kids play shop. But I need this cash. I'll starve if I go any longer without more money. My commlink beeped, and as I examined it I began to remember my regret for joining CorpSec. If they had just payed me what I was owed, and I knew they could, then I wouldn't be risking my life by going after some of Denon's worst. I would be doing guard duty for some low-down executive, bored out of my mind, but living comfortably. It was like someone high up the CorpSec ladder had a vendetta against me...
To say the speakeasy was crowded would be an understatement. It seemed as if every shadowrunner this side of the twilight zone had crowded into the building. The low lights and constant noise, reminiscent of the twilight zone itself. There, the natural light of the planet barely pierced the layers of smog and buildings above. Lit by dimming streetlights and brimming with constant noise, it marked the edge of prosperity, the thin line between the upper echelons of society who thrived within the sunlit towers and breezy walkways and the lowest outcasts who scrounged within the eternal midnight of lower Denon, scurrying between cramped homes and narrowed alleyways.
None of this bothered Anakin. The noise and the dim lights, while grating to his ears, did not claw across his mind like they first did when he entered back into the crowds of Denon. He was able to focus, eyes sweeping across the room for his companion.
As he searched, a waiter passed by. It took only a moment to flag her down.
"What can I get for you?" Her voice was gravelly, something common in the lower levels of Denon where smog and other chemical clouds settled. It was better than most he knew. Many of his friends lived closer to the border between the midnight undercity and the place affectionately called the "abyss". Smog smothered the abandoned city, and there were entire sections taken over by the wyrms and other limited animal and plant life that adapted to the environment.
"A Jet Juice, please." He watched as she strode off, before movement near one of the doorways caught his attention. Cartri had arrived. He waved the younger man over with a clawed hand.
"Well I finally made it." He said when he arrived.
"Sounds like you had a little trouble on your way here." Anakin smiled, fanged teeth bared in a motion that would normally be intimidating if not for his gaunt face and too pale skin.
"Where the hell have you been anyway. I haven't seen you around Denon for a long time." The question made him pause. Many had thought him dead before he reappeared, and there had been rumors flying about what had happened while he was gone. Who knew what stories Cartri caught wind of. Chances were, none were anywhere close to the truth.
It was the truth that he told him, shortened though it was. "Oh you know, just taking a vacation in a corporate prison." He shook his stump of a wing, frowning at the phantom pains that came with the motion. "Left them a little souvenir to remember me."
The waiter came back with his drink. "Anything I can get you?" She asked Cartri, old fashioned flimsi and pen in hand. A place like this likely couldn't afford company datapads to take orders on.
"How have you been?" Anakin asked once she was gone.
So Blank Canvas still wasn't that keen on a new paint job. Wasn't that just typical? It was almost as if no one wanted to put their faith in the hands of a teenage artist anymore, unless it was makework or a scam job. Daiya still hadn't gotten paid for most of her graffiti artistry jobs, for that matter, even if she did wind up having to stop halfway through most of the time. CorpSec could be a real chit to the starving, street artists of Denon.
So could armored bounty hunters, too.
"Authority?" The teen scoffed and made a show of looking around the place. The speakeasy wasn't big, and the different types of beings inside the place weren't very high class. This wasn't some Corpo hangout. "Yeah, if you're looking for an authority, you found one. I am the planet's utmost authority on calling you full of chit."
Daiya shook her head and turned back to her drink, not quite sure why she had bothered with the bounty hunter anyway. She took another sip, and then a gulp, hoping that the sweet liquid would wash away the bitter taste in her mouth. It carried none of the inebriating promises she had hoped for that evening, and as the armored Zeltron made a counteroffer, the teen was starting to really regret not forcing the issue with the barkeep.
Her eyes grew wide as she spied Hacks get up from the table and approach the bar. Make that regret a double.
"You want my help?" She asked the man, standing up as she pushed her barstool back. The drink's bubbles played on a tongue that no longer hosted her typically bubbly words. "Pull your fething head out of your ass and then I'll think about helping you!"
Grabbing her drink, the teen marched away from bounty hunter, tossing a frustrated eye roll in the direction of the next being who tried approaching him. Daiya forced herself in the path of the cyborg woman she hated, making sure that her shoulder connected with the woman's side as she brushed rudely past Hacks, and then sped up quickly to get out of reach of those deadly mechanical arms she had.
It was feeling like Xan was moments away from having a nervous breakdown as she stood awkwardly in place, staring at the familiar faces all over with no clue on how to address any of them. Kadora? Hell no, that was a meeting she would have to brave later. Though it was the easier one of the bunch, she owed the farghul a lot for what she did, for better or worse. She saved her life. Gave her an opportunity to find freedom when she would never know such a thing again. To repay such a favour was something that seemed impossible. Though it didn't stop her from giving a friendly wave.
Anakin? Hard nope as well. That meeting was going to be spared for later. Her having a body again was a surprise she wanted to keep secret until they could have some time alone... she didn't mind the fact that it was easy for her mind to slip into the gutter with that train of thought. Cartri... 'nuff said. They were in an awkward spot right now. After ghosting him for so long, she didn't have a clue on how to connect with him again. It wasn't going to be pretty, that much she knew.
One face stood out, though. One that tested her nerves on Eden, deserved a solid slap through the face after the way she treated Xan's pseudo little bro... yeah, that reunion could work easily.
Adjusting her blaster-scorched jacket and shirt, she followed after Daiya with a smirk behind her mask. "Hey Daiya, let's talk." She spoke up casually as she motioned to an empty table. Her technicolour gaze suggested that it wasn't a choice. Once they were by a table, Xan activated the same barrier Hacks used and looked to Daiya. "Payback time, can't let her be the only one in the room with a private conversation. Karking tried to save her life and this is the treatment she dishes out to us." She quipped, fanning the flames of Daiya's hate and hoping to soften her reaction.
"It's been a while, though. How you like the new look?" She asked with a grin as she held her arms out. "Trust me when I tell you, it's good to be back." She hoped Daiya wasn't so block-headed that she couldn't catch on to the hints. The amount of times she had to introduce herself after literally blowing up a space station was unacceptable...
Daiya
,
Saija Kwann
,
Hacks
,
Xan Deesa
,
Cartri Keswoll
,
Anakin Stormrunner
,
Doc Painless
,
Aren D'Shade
,
Shot Sutaz
,
Zole
,
Yula Perl
,
Sarvod Dravis
, @many-others-I-am-missing-who-might-be-interested-in-a-social-environment-to-crash-their-stories-into
