Private Stolen Skies: The Desperate Engineer and the Vanishing Prototype

[Lira Virel]

The vast hangar pulsated with activity as Lira stood amidst a sea of components and tools. The exhaustion that weighed upon her was palpable, as she had just completed a grueling journey from one side of the Core to Nar Shaddaa and then to Naboo, all within a mere few days. Now, back on Nar Shaddaa, she found herself in a race against time to meet an impending deadline that loomed only a week away.

Fatigue etched deep lines upon Lira's face, accentuated by the dim, flickering lights that cast a pale glow within the hangar. Her once vibrant brown eyes appeared weary, but they still held a determined glint. A few locks of her chestnut brown, matted with sweat, clung to her forehead. Her slender frame, clad in grease-stained overalls, sagged with weariness, but her spirit remained unyielding. Within the expansive hangar, her prized possession, the YT-2400 freighter named the Luminary, dominated the scene. The ship stood proudly, its polished hull reflecting the scattered light as if mirroring Lira's unwavering dedication. Amidst the Luminary's grandeur, tucked away in a corner, rested her latest creation—the experimental Nubian snubfighter. It beckoned to her, a testament to her ingenuity and technical prowess.

The hangar, for the most part, was secure. Repair droids buzzed about, their mechanical movements synchronized and purposeful. The rhythmic clanking of their metallic limbs harmonized with the hum of machinery, permeating the air with an atmosphere of focused industry. The scent of ozone and lubricants lingered, intermingling with the faint aroma of Lira's stimcafe, which she occasionally sipped to keep her exhaustion at bay. However, a disquieting presence lingered in the air, emanating from a malfunctioning ventilation shaft. Unbeknownst to Lira, the fan that once dutifully drew away soiled air and expelled it into the depths of the city's underbelly had ceased its whirring. This flaw, obscure to those unfamiliar with the hangar's inner workings, presented an opportunity for an uninvited visitor to infiltrate unnoticed.

Unaware of the lurking threat, Lira meticulously tinkered with the snubfighter's intricate systems. Her hands moved with precision, a testament to her expertise, as she sought to rectify the power issues that plagued the ship. The prototype represented a pinnacle of her tireless efforts, a testament to her skill and dedication. Each passing moment carried with it the weight of impending judgment, as Queen Kalantha eagerly awaited the arrival of the snubfighter, yearning to witness the culmination of Lira's ingenuity.

As Lira toiled ceaselessly, her mind a whirlwind of calculations and adjustments, she drew strength from the profound sense of purpose that propelled her forward. With the deadline drawing closer and the stakes higher than ever, Lira Virel, fueled by sheer determination, pressed onward, her unyielding resolve guiding her every step. She bustled about, going from workbench to design schematic that was projected before her. The dim lights overhead cast shadows on her fatigued face as she leaned over the workbench, her brow furrowed with concentration. She pulled the power core from the fuselage and deactivated it, the weight of the device straining her tired arms. Despite lacking the proper equipment and tools, Lira pressed on, her determination shining through her weary demeanor.

Testing this node, poking that node, she elicited small charges that occasionally gave her a jolt, causing her to shake her hand and let out a faint exclamation. Sweat dripped down her temples, mingling with grease stains on her forehead. With meticulous precision, she began repairing a fractured fuel rod. Unscrewing the bolts with silent determination, she removed the rod casing and tossed it aside, the sound of clanking metal reverberating through the hangar. The tang of ionized air and the acrid scent of burnt circuitry filled her nostrils as she adjusted the fuel rod, thick gloves protecting her hands from the toxic fumes. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she sealed the new casing around the rod, the satisfying click echoing in the otherwise bustling hangar. She tightened the screws with a steady hand, her fingers trembling with exhaustion but never faltering. Rising from her station, she wiped her forehead with the back of her greasy hand, leaving a smudge across her tired face. She took a moment to examine the power core, the subtle hum of energy filling the air as she chuckled in satisfaction.

With the repaired power core held firmly in her grasp, Lira turned her attention back to the snubfighter, its sleek form calling to her. She navigated through the cluttered hangar with a purposeful stride, her fatigued steps carrying the weight of determination.

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

"Killlll him! Melt that bantha into slag!" The threat rang out through Nar Shaddaa's red-light district followed by a volley of blaster fire that turned the heads of all manner of aliens, droids, and party dissidents. Living up to its namesake the huge array of bright neon signs bathed the metal streets and corridor of the district in a blood-red light that nearly managed to camouflage the laser fire flying through it, narrowly missing their target. Dashing out of the litter-filled plaza a boy, no older than twenty, with bright orange hair, black tattoos, and a puffy purple jacket dodged and weaved blasts of plasma death that uselessly exploded on metal walls and scorched the ground with a sizzling heat. The air had begun to smell of smoke from all the missed blasts but that could have just been the cloud of gas and narcotics that always hung over the district.

Ducking behind a corner on his left, Lucky winced not in pain but in despair as a laser ripped through the right pocket of his coat, burning the fur and busting a hole straight through. "No no no no no no no..." Lucky stopped bolting for just a second and turned his singed pocket inside out, pulling out a golden chip with no visible damage to be seen. Lucky smiled and sighed in relief, his life wasn't endangered for naught but he wasn't out of the woods yet as soon another blaster round scored the wall above him and the boy took off sprinting. "Don't get shot, don't get shot, don't get shot..." Leaping out of the alleyway and ducking under a salvo of blaster fire in a smooth combat roll that sprung Lucky back onto his feet, the outlaw continued his mad dash past a couple making horrible decisions on the side of the street. Lucky ran out of the avenue and found himself in a market of some kind with raggedy metal booths and stands running up and down the boulevard. Of course, very few of the goods were legal, and even the ones that were likely had something stocked under the counter.

Lucky wasn't given the luxury of thinking about it though as the unmistakable sound of the spinning of a very large gun reached his pale freckled ears. Without thinking, Lucky grabbed the nearest object, a large metal tray sitting on the stand of a now very angry and confused rodian, and swung it toward the sound of the gun before being sent flying several feet down the market by a loud blast. Lucky skidded on his back across the dirty metal floor and groaned as he struggled to stand. The outlaw rose to his feet and saw on the ground fragments of a red-hot molten slag no doubt created by the trandoshan and his shoulder-length rifle staring him down at the end of the road.

"Giiivvve it back! Or DIIIIEEE!!!" Lucky didn't wait for the monster to fire at him again and instead began booking it down the market, his pace carried by the sound of several thousand newtons of force barreling after him that thankfully only succeeded in completely blowing apart a rotten wooden shack held together on hopes and prayers. The boulevard began to disperse like ants on a destroyed hill. The red-light district was FAR from the safest place to operate but when brigands began openly firing highly illegal military-grade weaponry in the streets a line had definitely been crossed somewhere.

The ionized air was beginning to feel painful in Lucky's lungs, he knew he didn't have it in him to keep running much longer but his body refused to fail him knowing that its destination was mere feet away.

"Taxi! Yoohoo!" Lucky put his thumb and index finger in his mouth to give a sharp whistle that got the attention of the ithorian driving the cab. The speeder came to a halt and Lucky frantically pulled the door open with so much force he nearly ripped the handle off. "What's the big hurry?" The driver asked skeptically with a shredded voice that came through his voice modulator. "Hm? Oh, I'm just running for my life. No big deal." A blaster round shot into the side of the vehicle and nearly shook Lucky out of his seat.

"WHAT WAS THAAAT?!?!" The driver fully turned around and peeked over the open canopy to see a beast with glowing yellow eyes barrelling toward his cab.

"Oh. It's Hoppen Crickens gang. They're trying to kill me and stuff. And now probably you too if I'm being honest." The ithorian sunk back down into his seat and pressed on the gas pulling away from the platform. "But I didn't do anything!!" Two more shots whizzed past the cab, their power, and velocity shaking it. "Me neither! All I did was insult their boss and steal their property and yeah that's pretty messed up but they are taking it so personally I mean we're criminals, man! This is what we DO! Like c'mon, it's not even like that, they're acting like I had some kind of vendetta against them or something."

"You've got to be...WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Lucky shrugged at the ithorian's question and instead reached into his satchel before tossing a handful of credits at the driver. "There, now we're both involved in this my trusty getaway driver. Now just drop me off anywhere, I don't really care where-" BOOOM!! A bright orange light and a shower of flames engulfed the right side of the taxi as the engine exploded after taking a direct hit from that monster of a trandoshan. Of course, he chose now to improve his aim. Lucky threw his arms into the air and beamed brightly as the cab began to descend toward the mythicized infinite bottom of Nar Shaddaa in a blazing ball of fire. "Wooooohooooo!! Let's get live!!" The cab driver desperately tried to wretch back control of the vehicle but only succeeded in altering their course toward an empty parkway off to the right on their way down. "Hang on!!" The impact was brutal, the cab crashed into the pavement nose firsthand and skipped into the air before sliding on the pavement with a shower of golden sparks that completely tore the paint off the speeder.

Climbing out of his seat and standing up inside of the still sliding speeder, Lucky leaped out of the cab and rolled on the ground not so gracefully while the ithorian futility tried to regain control of his pride and joy. Finally, after scarring the ground and shredding off all the metal on its underbelly the speeder mercifully crashed into the side of an apartment and came to a firey stop that left its driver coughing and wheezing for non-smoke-filled air. "Hey!" Tearfully, the driver looked toward Lucky who backed away from the scene as people began poking their heads out of windows and stepping outside their doors to witness the carnage. "Hey man don't cry! I gotchu. I'ma get you a mechanic and your cab is gonna be so good looking that you won't even remember that it was destroyed!"

The ithorian's mouth dropped in a combination of shock, despair, and pure anger. "You can't just leave! Where the hell do you think you're going?" The humming and beat of engines reverberated through the air causing Lucky and a few others to look up as a gang of swoop bikes descended from above toward the smoking husk lighting up the street. "To freedom! I'm trying to live man! See ya. But I'm coming back for you!" Ignoring the burning stinging pain in his lungs from the ionized air, smoke inhalation, and the bout of pure adrenaline-fueled cardio, Lucky lost himself in the darkness of Nar Shaddaa, easily evading the loud reverberations of the swoop bikes as they buzzed and zipped through the streets. They weren't going to find him with a vehicle, he wasn't an experienced outlaw but Lucky at the very least knew to avoid the main roads if he didn't want to be spotted.

Slipping into a narrow space between a hangar bay and another obscure condo, Lucky caught sight of a dumpster filled with machinery and covered in black splotches of oil. The bin was directly beneath an open vent that flickered with light, like from a blow torch or from the sparks and charges of open wiring. He wasn't considering it at first but as the low rumble of a swoop bike got closer, Lucky didn't want to weigh his options and hopped on top of the bin before grabbing onto the vent with his bruised fingers and pulling himself inside. With tunnel mice as company, Lucky crawled his way through the shaft until he reached a fan with its wiring completely chewed and covered in rodent slobber. The engineer in him shook his head but didn't dwell on it as the outlaw in Lucky reeled back his fist and began to punch the fan out of its fixture. It took a few blows but eventually, the fan clambered to the floor with a thud and Lucky climbed inside the hangar, landing on his feet with an even louder thud.

Goggled eyes examining the hangar, Lucky could tell this was the workshop of someone who took pride in their work, and even better he could tell...this was the dwelling of a mechanic.

"Ha ha! Luck is on my SIDE today!!"

Lira Virel

 

[Lira Virel]

The dimly lit hangar exuded the scent of metal and oil, its shadows dancing in rhythm with the soft hum of machinery. Lira, her brown hair cascading around her fatigued face, wearily navigated the space. Her tired brown eyes, once vibrant with curiosity, now carried the weight of countless sleepless nights. Despite her exhaustion, there was an undeniable grace to her movements, a testament to her unwavering dedication as a mechanic.

In her hands, she cradled the power core, a delicate jewel pulsating with untapped energy. Her fingertips traced the intricate lines and circuits, each touch connecting her to the intricate web of technology she so passionately pursued. As she began her journey towards what she believed to be the N-1Fx fighter, she stumbled upon a Gonk droid. A momentary confusion played on her fatigued mind, quickly replaced by a giggle that escaped her lips. "This wouldn't fit in you!" she murmured, a lighthearted comment born from the depths of exhaustion.

Realizing her mistake, Lira retraced her steps, her worn boots shuffling across the hangar floor. With tender care, she gently placed the power core on her cluttered workbench, its presence a reminder of her unfinished dreams. Fatigue overwhelmed her, drawing her closer to the embrace of sleep. Her outstretched hand, adorned with a blaster, lay beside her as a testament to her instinctual need for protection, even in the realm of dreams. While Lira succumbed to the tranquility of slumber, her loyal droids stood sentinel, their presence a symphony of softly whirring gears and blinking lights. Optics ablaze, their red-eyed gazes scanned the dimly lit expanse, their commitment to safeguarding their mistress never wavering.

In the delicate balance between time and opportunity, the black chrome, purple-accented YT-2400 beckoned as a tantalizing prize—a complex masterpiece that stood as a daunting challenge for any would-be thief. Meanwhile, the N-1Fx, bathed in the glow of dim lights, offered a more feasible target, yet its missing power core lay perilously close to Lira's peaceful form. Amidst the symphony of mechanical whispers and the lingering scent of possibility, Lucky stood at the crossroads of choice. Time slipped away like grains of sand through his fingers, urging him to decide swiftly. The weight of Lira's hidden beauty, concealed within the shadows, called to those with discerning eyes.

As Lucky's presence threatened to dissolve into a mere silhouette, the shoddy holocameras remained watchful, capturing the essence of his calculated movements. The droids, relentless in their pursuit of the intruder who dared disturb their mistress's slumber, intensified their search, their optics now glowing fiercely.

In this delicate dance of fate, where time and opportunity intertwined, Lucky faced a race against the clock. The allure of the power core and the proximity of Lira's vulnerability heightened the stakes, urging him to tread with caution. The hangar, a tapestry of sensory wonders, held its breath, its silence heavy with anticipation. Lira's fate hung in the balance as Lucky navigated the treacherous path, ever mindful of the droids' vigilant watchfulness. And in the midst of this intricate web of possibilities, Lira's beauty, born from the depths of her tireless dedication, remained concealed within the shadows, awaiting the moment when the light would unveil her true radiance.

As Lucky's options expanded before him, a pivotal choice loomed. Should he choose to pursue the N-1Fx, fate would guide his steps towards Lira, forcing him to stand in her presence. It was in that intimate encounter that the possibility of being captivated by her hidden beauty awaited—an allure not often found within the realm of mechanics. Perhaps it was the echo of her Nubian heritage, the legacy of a people renowned for their striking aesthetics, akin to the elegance of the Zeltrons. As time ticked away, the tapestry of possibilities unraveled before Lucky, urging him to make a swift decision. The hangar, a sanctuary of machinery and innovation, held its breath in anticipation. Lira, the slumbering mechanic with brown locks and entrancing brown eyes, remained unaware of the choice that loomed over her. Her presence, a blending of grace and dedication, carried the potential to captivate those who beheld her with discerning eyes.

In this pivotal moment, where the pursuit of opportunity intertwined with the mysteries of beauty and heritage, Lucky weighed his options. The fate of the stolen ship and the treasures within hung in the balance, as did the unveiling of Lira's true radiance—a rare gem among mechanics, waiting to be discovered.

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

Lucky could feel himself tensing as he walked through the hangar bay unabated, the sounds of machinery causing him to jump at shadows and twitch at the flickering of lights shining from the various unused tech littering the garage. On one hand, it wasn't the most organized space Lucky had ever seen but it had a certain...flow to it. He doubted this person, whoever they were, got lost in this beautiful mess they had created. The air had the thick, heavy smell of oil, and as Lucky lifted the lid of a nearby crate and took a quick glance inside he made a quick assessment and decided that this mechanic of interest probably had more than enough to help that ithorian repair his cab. But even more than that...

Lucky looked up from the crate and veered past a stack of boxes to be blessed with an exquisite sight that melted his thieving little heart. A beautiful ship with a sleek design and expensive chromium plating nestled under a dim spotlight in a clean section of the room. When it's propped up like that? On NAR SHADDAA?? It's almost like asking someone to rob you. Now Lucky was met with two decisions; steal the ship, complete his original plan, and have to find another mechanic, or leave well enough alone and do what he promised right away before he forgets. It wasn't an easy decision but it was one he'd make quickly as the electronic whirring of an automation grew closer, swoop bikes whistled through the streets outside, and the first train to making a name for himself in the dark criminal underworld was about to pull out of the station. A toolbox over his shoulder knocked to the floor with a loud clattering of metal as Lucky (ironic because his namesake) was unfortunate enough to back into it and draw the attention of the machines vigilantly patrolling the hangar who quickly moved to investigate the noise.

His brain, small as it was, began to tick rapidly and the outlaw dashed in a crouch toward the N-1Fx as he realized that no matter which option he chose, he couldn't linger here in the shadows much longer without announcing himself somehow. He'd just rather his introduction be made from inside several inches of metal.

The budding thief reached the starfighter and vaulted over one of the engines and into the cockpit, plopping down into the captain's seat with a smoothness he most certainly didn't display intentionally. Wiggling his fingers with the lust and anticipation only a thief could possess, Lucky pressed the ignition and felt his heart sink into his stomach as nothing happened. He tried again, two times, three, and then realized that the ship wasn't going anywhere...because the power core wasn't installed.

"Man, how the f-how do you forget to install the power core?!" Lucky poked his head out of the starship and looked around the hangar, now that he's been in the craft he could see that it was almost fully operational save for the lack of power. In a mess as grand as this one there was bound to be a power core just sitting around somewhere...somewhere.......soooommmmeeeewheeeeereeeeeeee...there!

Laying flat on a workbench in the middle of the hangar was what Lucky knew in his heart and mind to be the power core, it had a strip of blue light running around it as it pulsated with life. It was ripe for the taking! Or it would have been if the mechanic wasn't currently using it as a pillow.

Climbing over the edge of the cockpit, Lucky slithered on the floor like a snake stalking its prey from the shadows making his way toward the workbench as he narrowly evaded the crimson photoreceptors flickering on the edge of perception his intrusion fully known to the hangar's mechanical residents but his location, however, was more elusive. The outlaw came up beside Lira Virel and inched ever closer to her vulnerable unconscious body or rather the bird her arms had become a cage for. "It's time to set you free..." Lucky whispered as he placed a gloved hand on the power core and prepared to wiggle it free. Grabbing it with both hands, he began to shimmy the cylindrical battery from under Lira who groaned in response and wrapped her arms around it tighter subconsciously. He knew what he had to do, but he didn't know if he had the strength to do it.

Lucky was going to have to lift her head up.

Gently, Lucky ran his bruised fingers through Lira's brown hair, matted with sweat and oil until he felt her scalp and gently grabbed and lifted her head with his hands. "Oh...oh wow..." He was met with the face of a beautiful woman probably in her early twenties, with tan skin shiny with seat and oil and lips a little wet from the puddle of drool she'd left on the power core. Her eyes had a dark ring around them and from the way she was breathing, it was immediately clear just how exhausted this woman was.

It was...disgusting to look at but in the best way. Lucky was captured by the way all this filth and poor hygiene could come together to make someone look so amazing, it was like makeup but made of dirt and it was LIVE! The outlaw inched closer to Lira's face to get a closer look, his face hovering dangerously close to hers. It was silent for what could have only been a second but in his mind, the moment lasted for an eternity until the anxiety in him forced his lips open.

"Hey, do you know how to fix a cab?"

 

[Lira Virel]

As Lucky's gloved hand touched Lira's tangled brown hair, she stirred, emitting a soft groan in her half-asleep state. Her subconscious clung tightly to the power core, her arms unknowingly protecting it. The weight of exhaustion was etched upon her face, dark circles under her eyes and her lips glistening with a trace of drool. Lucky's gaze lingered upon her, captivated by the paradoxical beauty that emanated from her disheveled appearance, as if the grime and fatigue had transformed into an enchanting allure. With cautious tenderness, Lucky gingerly lifted Lira's head, his fingertips brushing against her sweat-slicked scalp. His breath hitched as he beheld her face, illuminated by the faint glow of the hangar lights. She was a vision of contradiction, her tanned skin shining with a mix of sweat and oil, a testament to her tireless dedication. The exhaustion etched upon her features only served to amplify her natural charm. It was a mesmerizing sight, as if the juxtaposition of her unkempt state and inherent beauty formed a unique tapestry that entranced Lucky's senses.

Silent contemplation enveloped the air, stretching the moment into an eternity within Lucky's mind. However, the weight of anxiety pushed him to break the silence. His lips parted, preparing to ask a question, seeking guidance. Yet, before he could utter a word, Lira's sleepy expression transformed, her befuddled delirium shifting to a state of shock. A sudden realization washed over her as Lucky's features gradually came into focus. She remained wordless for a moment, the gears of comprehension turning slowly in her exhausted mind.

In a swift reaction fueled by adrenaline, Lira's startled movements caused chaos on her workbench. Tools scattered, clattering to the ground alongside the blaster, dislodging the energy cartridge. It skidded across the floor, further away from her grasp. Panic seized her weary mind as she scrambled to regain control, her hand instinctively reaching for a nearby pipe. Her bloodshot, dry eyes locked onto Lucky's presence, her face now wet with a mixture of drool and perspiration.

The surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses, sharpening her focus. Each passing heartbeat propelled her further into a realm of calculated actions. Time slipped away, slipping through her fingertips like grains of sand. Lira was keenly aware that her energy reserves were limited, a fleeting resource that, once depleted, would lead her into the embrace of unconsciousness. But Lucky didn't need to know this. The small pipe in her hand became a symbolic gesture of defense, an emblem of her determination.

She pressed the pipe against her face, her voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and defiance. Her words were measured, precise. Her eyes locked onto Lucky, unyielding despite the weariness that clung to her being. The droids R4-N0 and R3-B8, ever vigilant in their loyalty, stood by her side, their presence a subtle reminder of the protection that encircled her. In the fragile dance between adrenaline and fatigue, Lira's world teetered on a delicate precipice. The confrontation before her held the potential for unexpected outcomes, and time seemed to conspire against her. Yet, behind the facade of strength and resolve, Lira knew that her energy reserves were waning. Her body and mind fought valiantly, their struggle mirrored in the intensity of her gaze.

As the seconds ticked away, a battle unfolded within Lira—a battle of willpower, of resilience against the encroaching embrace of sleep. The outcome remained uncertain, as did the resolution of this unexpected encounter with Lucky, a intruder.

She stammered, trying to find the right words. To the world around her, especially Lucky, she sounded like a drunken fool.

"Ss....wh...who ure you?"

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

The little orange hairs on Lucky's pale body sent shivers through him as they all stood on end like a cat faced with a tub of water. The woman in his hands, her face covered in a sheen of sweat and oil, snapped to life and was silently dazed before immediately being washed with fear and shock. Lira was ripped from Lucky's hands who reflexively tried to stop her from collapsing on the floor but her skin, slippery with perspiration, slid out of his grasp, and Lira along with several of her tools skidded across the floor and away from Lucky who towered over them. "H-Hey, are you okay?" Lucky reached out toward Lira and stepped toward her but his path to the woman was quickly blocked by two astromechs who in reverence to their creator moved to shield her from him. "Sorry about that. That's on me I was just-" Lucky stopped as he realized he didn't actually have an explanation to give Lira. What was he doing? He never had any problem stealing before. He never had any problem stealing when he was a slave. Hell, he was only in this shop now because he didn't have any problem stealing tonight.

For some reason holding Lira in his hands had entranced Lucky, for a moment if only a moment, he stopped thinking about freedom and riches and fame and the stars and was only concerned with the galaxies in Lira's barely opened eyes. But even more shocking than that...seeing her on the floor with her eyes filled with wild determination made Lucky feel a shred of guilt, pity even. She waved a metal pipe at the outlaw in defense but it didn't faze Pride who was too lost in his own thoughts. "Sorry..." Was all he said as he shifted toward the workbench and realized the power core, heavy enough to not be locked over by Lira's erratic motion was still resting on the table.

Lucky's head turned back toward Lira, whose eyes were red with what he hoped was exhaustion and not bloodlust, and smiled with all the appeal and malicious charisma of a merciless criminal. With a finger, Lucky pushed his goggles onto his forehead and gazed at Lira with his ruby eyes granted to him by his Zeltron heritage.

"You can call me...The Luckster..."

The Luckster turned toward the power core and grabbed hold of it, tucking it under his arm.

"And I'm robbin' you."

Spinning on his heel, Lucky nonchalantly walked toward the N-1Fx with a bounce to his step. He was going to install the power core himself and fly off in the starship. "Soooo? You got a name?" He asked in a tone that could only be attained if he were beaming ear to ear. "I'm asking because I want to use your name when I ask if you can fix a cab again." Reaching the starfighter, Lucky examined the craft to decipher where he'd insert the power core.

"You're really pretty." He semi-shouted from across the hangar. "Your hair is really cute and for a mechanic, your skin is pretty smooth. But you've got drool on your chin and it's kinda gross. Also, you should take a shower. You're sweaty and covered in oil so you smell pretty nasty right now. Like, imagine bantha and rotten blue cheese mixed with an oil refinery and that's you right now. But like one maybe two quick showers and you're straight, trust me."

Lira Virel

 

[Lira Virel]

Lira's exhausted body trembled as she tried to steady herself against the workbench. The adrenaline that had fueled her earlier defiance was waning, leaving her drained and vulnerable. She mustered the strength to lift her gaze, meeting Lucky's arrogant smirk with a mix of weariness and defiance.

Her voice quivered as she mustered a response, her words laden with fatigue and emotion. "You... you really think you can waltz in here and just... rob me?" Her voice trailed off, her disbelief and exhaustion mingling in her tone. The weight of his audacious act hung heavy in the air, leaving Lira momentarily speechless.

As Lucky swaggered away, asking for her name in a tone that grated on her nerves, Lira began to form a reply. "My name is Lira, but..." Her sentence cut off abruptly, her voice drowned out by his continued display of arrogance. She watched him with a mix of confusion and weariness, her mind struggling to make sense of the situation unfolding before her. His mention of her appearance caught her off guard, causing her cheeks to flush with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. The fatigue in her body melded with a sense of insult, intensifying her emotional response. She couldn't comprehend how someone who had just robbed her had the audacity to comment on her looks, let alone give unsolicited advice on hygiene.

A surge of frustration coursed through Lira's fatigued body, and without warning, she flung the metal pipe in Lucky's direction. It sailed through the air, a manifestation of her pent-up emotions, aimed anywhere she hoped it would hit, a desperate act of defiance.

But the exertion took its toll on Lira, and she crumpled to her knees, gasping for breath. Tears welled up in her eyes as her body trembled with exhaustion. She leaned heavily against the workbench, finding solace in its solid support. Her droids, R4-N0 and R3-B8, immediately rushed to her side, their concern evident in their mechanical whirs and beeps, their presence offering a small measure of comfort.

In a barely audible whisper, Lira pleaded with Lucky, hoping he would hear her desperation. "Please... don't take the Starfighter." Her voice quivered with a mix of fatigue and determination. She couldn't bear to see her hard work stolen now, not when she was so close to completing her project. Her tired gaze fixated on him, capturing every detail, etching it into her memory. While he didn't seem like an immediate threat to her safety, the thought of losing the starship to his thievery fueled a fire within her, ensuring that she would never forget him if he dared to steal it away.

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

Blue light filtered through the dark cockpit of the Starfighter as a large cascade of wiring spilled out of an open maintenance panel situated behind the captain's chair. How close had she been that she left the canal open and ready for the core? Lucky wasn't sure, but it filled him with confidence that the vessel was mostly complete and he wouldn't crash into the depths of Nar Shaddaa. His freckled ears twitched at the sound of the woman's name and a thin smile breached his lips. "Lira huh? Nice. That's a pretty name." Lucky stood up, his torso stretching out of the cockpit. "Pretty girl, pretty name am I right?" Lucky squinted his ruby eyes at Lira as he noticed a color change in her face. "Haha! You are blushing!" The outlaw erupted in laughter and held his stomach as he did, it was honestly a little disturbing how whimsical he was while committing multiple crimes at once. He didn't stay laughing for long though as the metal pipe that was just in Lira's hand snapped against the corner of his forehead and cut the skin letting out a small stream of blood.

Lucky held his palm to the wound and watched his crimson ichor pool in his hand with a frown. "Ow." Was all he said before turning back to the cockpit to finish installing the power core, his smile having faded. The apparatus hissed as the core slid right in and he shut the panel, he could feel the energy coursing through the ship as its components lit up and its machinery whirled to life. The thief climbed out of the Starfighter and walked across the garage toward the barely standing Lira and pulled up a nearby stack of crates for her to sit on. In a quick motion, he pulled the woman who stood a few inches above him by her wrist and plopped her on the crate with relative ease.

"Hey, now look." Lucky grimaced at the wetness in Lira's eyes and he knew then what this ship meant to her, it wasn't just property, it was a piece of a dream of hers, a hope brought into reality and by stealing it he was taking that hope away. "Don't cry. I don't want to see you bawling over this okay?" It may have come off harsher than he was intending but, Lucky was being sincere, especially when he took his finger and began wiping the tears away from her cheeks. "I get it. This ship, means a lot to you, doesn't it? It's a piece of your heart and soul and now I'm stealing it. And that's messed up." Lucky began to slip his arms out of his coat.

"I've got a dream too. I want to be one of the greatest outlaws in history. I want my name to be synonymous with the underworld." His coat now off, Lucky held it in his hand as he continued. "I refuse to achieve my dream, by destroying the hopes of another." Digging through the coat pocket, Lucky pulled out the golden chip he risked his life to steal. Like the Starfighter, the chip was a manifestation of Lucky's hopes and dreams. "There's a meeting going down with a really big crime family soon and the only people invited are those with a chip like this." Stuffing the chip into the pocket of his jumpsuit, Lucky made sure it was secure before he turned his attention to Lira and tossed her his prized purple coat.

"That's my favorite coat. I want it back. So if I ever wanna see it again I'll have to return here with your Starship, won't I? Good deal?"

Lira Virel

 

[Lira Virel]

Lira's fatigued body sagged as Lucky effortlessly lifted her and settled her onto the crates, her tired muscles relieved by the support. The dim blue light cast an ethereal glow within the cockpit of the Starfighter, illuminating the scattered wires and the intricate machinery that she had tirelessly worked on. She could feel the remnants of adrenaline coursing through her veins, the aftermath of the chaotic encounter leaving her trembling with exhaustion. As Lucky tossed his jacket her way, it landed on her lap, a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation. The cool fabric caressed her skin, a fleeting sensation that momentarily distracted her from the impending loss she was facing. Confusion and weariness wrestled within her as she stared at the jacket, its vibrant purple hue standing out against the darkness. How could he equate her life's work, her creation born out of countless sleepless nights and relentless determination, to a simple object?

Her weary mind desperately sought answers, but the weight of exhaustion pressed down upon her, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. Lira's eyes met Lucky's, his whimsical laughter still echoing in her ears. She wanted to protest, to make him understand the depth of her connection to the Starfighter, to make him comprehend that it was more than just a machine—it was her heart and soul woven into every wire, every circuit.

"Wait, you can't just..." Her voice trailed off, her protests dissipating into the air. Fatigue gripped her like a vise, her body aching from the physical and emotional strain of the encounter. With each labored breath, she could feel her energy waning, her eyelids growing heavy. She fought to stay awake, to cling onto the remnants of her strength, but it proved futile. The weariness consumed her, and her body surrendered to its demands.

Collapsing onto the crate, Lira's limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. The cold surface of the metal seeped through her clothes, contrasting with the residual warmth that still pulsed within her. She closed her eyes, unable to fight the overwhelming exhaustion any longer. Her mind swirled with a mix of emotions—frustration, confusion, and a lingering sense of helplessness. The stolen Starfighter loomed in her mind, its incomplete state now a painful reminder of the dreams and aspirations that dangled on the precipice of loss. She had poured her heart and soul into this project, driven by a fierce determination to protect her home, her loved ones, from the encroaching darkness. The Starfighter was more than a vessel; it was a symbol of hope, a manifestation of her unwavering belief that she could make a difference.

But now, that hope was slipping through her fingers, stolen by the very hands that held her now. The weight of disappointment settled upon her chest, making each breath a struggle. In her weakened state, she clung to the fading image of Lucky, her tired gaze fixated on him, as if memorizing every feature. He didn't seem like an immediate threat to her, but if he succeeded in stealing her ship, she knew she would never forget him.

In the midst of her exhaustion, Lira whispered a plea, her voice barely audible. "Please... don't take it... I've come so far..." Her words hung in the air, filled with desperation and a flicker of hope. She hoped that perhaps, in his unpredictable nature, there was a chance he would reconsider, that he would recognize the passion and dedication she had poured into her creation.

But as her tired eyes met his, she saw a mixture of sincerity and determination. Lucky's intentions remained unclear, his dreams of becoming an outlaw intertwining with her own shattered aspirations. With a heavy heart, Lira succumbed to the embrace of fatigue, surrendering to the darkness that enveloped her. The last flicker of resistance extinguished, leaving her with a bittersweet resignation.

As her consciousness faded, Lira couldn't help but wonder what awaited her in the wake of this stolen dream.

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

Lucky's chest heaved with guilt as he watched Lira crumble under the weight of her own exhaustion. She might've been able to do something, anything to protect her dream but her body demanded rest and there was little she could do against it. She was helpless and it was heartbreaking to see, but that pain in Lucky's heart only strengthened his resolve to reach that communion and return the Starfighter to Lira. He refused to reach his dream by shattering the hopes of another, especially a dedicated soul like Lira. He was an outlaw, one who'd chosen to stand outside rule and tradition. He wouldn't fail, and he wouldn't lose his coat. That was a promise. Lucky moved drenched and sticky hairs from Lira's face so he could stare into her eyes, now slits, directly.

"I'm sorry, Lira." Lucky pat Lira on the shoulder and raised his hand to pull down his goggles and shield his ruby eyes behind purple-tinted glass. "But I've come so far." The outlaw turned away from Lira who perhaps through her subconscious reached out to him but missed her mark, deflating and falling into energy collapse.

He climbed inside the Starfighter and closed shut the canopy around him, taking one last look at Lira from behind the glass. The spirit is willing but the flesh is not, she was trapped in a cage but it was her own body...and he was taking her hope while she sat helplessly behind the bars. It was a fleeting thought, quickly diminished by his sheer force of will but in a flash, Lucky wondered if this was the true face of lawlessness and if he was willing to slip the mask back on and keep lying to himself. The engines on the Starfighter blared to life and whirred as it began to hover above the ground and higher into the air until Lucky was able to coast it out of the hangar doors that opened automatically to allow the ship to blast off into the smoggy, neon-filled sky. Lira had been betrayed by her body, her ship, and now even her own shop.

The ship's handling was almost perfect, the hum of the engine was musical and the vibration of the vessel was soothing in a way. Lucky was easily able to maneuver his way through traffic and around the other ships that cluttered the skies. "This thing is live as hell! Now I see why Lira likes it so much!" Pulling a lever on the console, Lucky watched as the engines on the Starfighter flared to life and pushed the ship forward like a streak of silver and chromium zipping opposed to the flow of traffic.

Minutes later while Lucky continued his joyride across Nar Shaddaa the thrum of Swoop bikes could be heard approaching the hangar and ceasing just outside it. Brigands, five of them and all of them visibly armed entered the workshop through the now open hangar door, their silhouettes given a menacing factor by the blood-red light now flooding the garage. One of the brigands, a trandoshan that stood both literally and figuratively above the others brandished a huge rifle that he strung over his bare scaly shoulders and flashed a razor-sharp smile at Lira and her two droids that moved to her defense.

"Exxxxxxcuse me miss." The trandoshan's voice was reptilian and of course but with a human quality even still.

"Might we have a word? About that ship that left your hangar just now, perhaps?"

Lira Virel

 

[Lira Virel]

Lira's exhausted body jolted awake as the trandoshan's voice pierced through her slumber. Confusion and disorientation enveloped her senses as she blinked away the remnants of sleep. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, she clumsily pushed herself upright, her disheveled hair cascading over her fatigued face. With a shaky hand raised in a feeble attempt to stall the conversation, Lira mumbled, "One second... let me... get something." Her voice was laced with drowsiness, her words slurred and stammered. She stumbled toward her YT-2400, her steps unsteady, and her senses still clouded by sleep.

R4, ever attentive, rolled over to Lira's side, emitting a series of worried beeps and whistles. The loyal droid extended a small vial of blue-purple liquid, its label reading, "Stay awake." Lira sighed with a mixture of gratitude and resignation, recognizing the herbal concoction she had obtained from a Mystic on Dathomir. It was a temporary remedy, offering a surge of energy and focus, but inevitably leading to an impending crash.

She popped open the vial, the bitter aroma assaulting her senses, and quickly downed its contents. Within moments, a surge of alertness coursed through her veins. The grogginess that had enveloped her moments ago dissipated, replaced by a newfound clarity. The mixture had done its job, granting her a brief respite from exhaustion and rejuvenating her mind and body. Feeling the revitalizing effects taking hold, Lira turned toward the Trandoshan, gratitude and determination etched across her features. She patted R4's dome in a gesture of appreciation, acknowledging the droid's swift assistance. "Sorry about that," she apologized, her words now clear and focused. "Sure, who are you...?"

As her eyes met the Trandoshan's reptilian gaze, she found herself captivated by his towering presence. It was clear that he held information crucial to her quest, and Lira's gaze sharpened, her mind honing in on the conversation at hand. The exhaustion that had threatened to consume her moments ago was momentarily held at bay, allowing her to gather her wits and face the challenges that lay ahead.

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

“We...work for Hoppen Cricken, you may have heard of him considering the tariffs he's been putting on ship parts in the area lately." The trandoshan almost spat his reply, his disdain for humans infected every word he spoke and his temper was almost as short as the astromechs following him and his men around the shop, beeping and whistling in protest as they made a mess of the place in their investigation.

"Tonight’ssss a very pivotal night.” The trandoshan started as his men began spreading out across the hangar searching every nook, every cranny, every lint-filled corner, and every crate large enough to fit a person with their blasters at the ready. The trandoshan began to circle around Lira slowly like a vulture frothing at the beak at the sight of a fresh carcass. “A great communion has been called at the Wichor Family Yacht and only a sssselect portion of the underworld has been invited. The only way in is a Midas Shard and my bossss received one. Or rather he haaaaad one.”

Now behind Lira, the trandoshan squatted down but was so tall he managed to stay at head level. “Hissss name is Lucky Pride. He has orange hair and a purple coat…like this!” The monster held up the coat with one hand in front of Lira’s face with a ravenous snarl on his scaly face.

“You wouldn’t happen to…know anything about this would you?”

Lira Virel

 

[Lira Virel]

Lira blinked, feigning confusion and innocence as she stared at the Trandoshan. She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to process the information he had just shared.

"Lucky Pride? Orange hair and a purple coat?" she repeated, her voice filled with a touch of bewilderment. "I'm sorry, but I don't know anyone by that description. I'm just a humble engineer, working on ships and minding my own business. Are you sure you have the right person?"

She glanced around the cluttered hangar, her eyes flitting between the Trandoshan and his crew as they continued to search. Her mind raced, concocting a story on the spot to deter their suspicions.

"Look, I understand you're searching for something important, but I really can't help you. This place, it belongs to Grogol the Hutt. He granted me the space to work on my projects, and he's very particular about maintaining his arrangements undisturbed," Lira explained, her tone carrying a hint of caution. "I don't want any trouble with him, and I strongly advise you to reconsider your pursuit."

She held her ground, projecting an air of authority despite the confusion that swirled within her. She hoped that by invoking the name of Grogol and emphasizing his influence, she could deter the Trandoshan and his crew from prying further.

"Grogol is not one to be trifled with. He has eyes and ears everywhere, and he doesn't take kindly to trespassers or those who disrupt his affairs," Lira warned, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "I suggest you leave this matter be and find another course of action. It's in your best interest, believe me."

As Lira spoke, she hoped her words would plant a seed of doubt and caution in the minds of the intruders. She played her part, acting as a clueless engineer caught in the middle of a situation she couldn't comprehend. Deep down, she prayed that her performance would be enough to protect Lucky's secret and keep the Trandoshan at bay.

Lucky Pride​

 

[Lucky Pride]

At the mention of the Hutt Grogol, the Trandoshan stepped away from Lira and tapped his fingers along the barrel of his rifle. At the same time, he analyzed Lira with his predatory, reptilian eyes. The insolence that she, a simple and worthless mechanic, had to claim to be anything more than a tenant to an absentee landlord that likely forgot she existed until it was time to pay the rent was massive. He didn’t make a show of it beyond flashing his stained razor-sharp fangs at the woman but the monster was mulling over whether or not he should just kill Lira for the principle of it.

“I have the ssssneaking suspicion that Grogol wouldn’t be too distraught over the death of a housessssitter. Besides…”

The trandoshan put a clawed hand on Lira’s shoulder and squeezed, hard. “You’re the one in the wrong here. You tried to insult the intelligence of the Cricken's and hide from us what’s rightfully ourssss.”

Budding into the conversation to the obvious irritation of the trandoshan a weequay with messy hair and a red turban pointed to a scorched black hole on Lucky’s coat while waving his pistol at Lira.

“That there hole was made by me it was! I shot the thieving womp rat where I thought it’d stop em’ dead but the bastard kept on running. We know he was here so just come clean while you’ve still got the chance to keep your pretty little shop…and fingers…”

Whistling and beeping in a mixture of distress and spiteful protest, R4-N0 wiggled in the arms of two of the Crickens. “We could always crack the droids open and check their memory banks.” One of them suggested. “Or just blast them to pieces in front of her.” The weequay added with a sinister nod toward Lira. “I like that second one a lot more.”

The trandoshan released Lira’s shoulder and raised his rifle before stepping toward her and snarling his next threat. “We’ll find out what we want one way or the other, so just come clean and tell ussss what you know of the thief! Was he in that ship or not?! Be reassssonable, he’s just a common thief. Scum. Filth. There’s no need to cover for someone like that.”

Lira Virel

 

[Lira Virel]

As the trandoshan's grip tightened on Lira's shoulder, pain shot through her body, causing her to wince. His menacing gaze bore into her, his predatory instincts flaring. The weight of his disdain and skepticism hung heavily in the air, threatening to crush her resolve.

Lira's mind raced, her instincts whispering warnings of the imminent danger that surrounded her. She could sense the undercurrents of violence, the growing desire within her assailants to harm her, or worse. The presence of the Force swirled within her, an energy she had yet to fully understand or tap into consciously. It danced chaotically with the darkness that now encroached upon her, beckoning her to delve deeper.

She looked into the trandoshan's eyes, her own gaze steady, despite the fear that churned in her gut. Her hands gently rested on the domes of R4-N0 and R3-B8, silently pleading for their protection. These astromech droids were not ordinary; they possessed capabilities that surpassed their conventional programming. Their loyalty and bond with Lira ran deep.

"I assure you, I am merely a tenant here, working on my own projects," Lira replied, her voice steady but laced with a hint of trepidation. She held onto the jacket, cradling it protectively against her chest, a symbol of defiance and resilience.

At the mention of Grogol's name, Lira attempted to assert control over the situation, channeling an air of bravado that bordered on falsehood. She locked eyes with the trandoshan, refusing to let her fear show.

"Grogol has tasked me with something of utmost importance," she retorted, her voice tinged with an undercurrent of authority. "And believe me, if I fail to deliver, he would be more than willing to make an example out of those who hinder his plans."

Lira's eyes narrowed, her bravado masking the tension that gripped her. She sensed the palpable desire for violence emanating from the trandoshan and his crew, but she stood her ground, determined to protect her secrets and the integrity of her mission.

"You are mistaken if you believe I have any allegiance to the thief you seek," she stated firmly, her gaze unwavering. "I have no knowledge of his whereabouts. And if you harm me or my droids, you will have crossed a line that even Grogol wouldn't dare to cross."

She held onto the jacket tightly, her fingers digging into the fabric as she made her final plea, her voice filled with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. "I implore you, reconsider your course of action. Let me be, and perhaps we can avoid a confrontation that none of us truly desire."

Deep down, Lira knew she was teetering on the precipice of danger, but she refused to back down. The Force flowed through her, an untapped well of power and intuition. She could only hope that her words and the unspoken presence of something beyond her comprehension would give the trandoshan and his crew pause, and perhaps, just perhaps, they would relent in their pursuit.

Lira's hands subtly shifted the jacket, her fingers deftly maneuvering to loosen the chip hidden within one of its pockets. She had been biding her time, moving back and forth, creating distractions while executing a slight of hand trick she had learned from her Uncle during their Sabaac sessions. As she continued to engage the trandoshan and his crew in conversation, her heart pounded in her chest, her senses heightened. The weight of the chip dropped into her hand, and she closed her fingers around it, concealing the valuable item within her grasp. If things were to take a turn for the worse, and if they attempted to seize the jacket, they would find it empty. Lira's composure remained unwavering, her focus split between maintaining her façade and ensuring the safety of the chip. It was a gamble, a risky endeavor, but she couldn't afford to let them discover its presence.

Though her outward expression masked her inner turmoil, a sense of determination burned within her. She had grown up in a world of games and gambles, where subtle tricks could make the difference between victory and defeat. She would tap into that knowledge, drawing upon the lessons of her Uncle, to navigate this treacherous situation. As the trandoshan and his crew continued their threats and intimidation, Lira maintained a steady gaze, her face betraying nothing. She knew the tension in the air was palpable, the danger lurking just beneath the surface. But behind her poker face, she clung to a glimmer of hope.

With the chip safely secured in her hand, Lira prepared herself for any eventuality. The darkness and light within her continued their intricate dance, and she felt an inner strength, an intuition guiding her steps. Though she lacked combat skills, she possessed a resourcefulness and resilience honed through years of ingenuity and survival.

She would keep her secrets close, protect the stolen chip, and do whatever it took to emerge from this perilous encounter unscathed. Lira held onto her composure, her eyes fixed on the trandoshan's reptilian gaze, ready to face whatever fate had in store.

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

Stepping back, the trandoshan growled at Lira as he begrudgingly acknowledged his respect for her spirit even in the face of such irrefutable danger. Did she not realize how easily he could kill her? It would take only but a moment and she'd be gone just like that...but she wasn't backing down and even worse she was bringing Grogol into the mix. Even with backing from the Cricken's the monster wasn't too keen about facing the potential wrath of the hutts. She was just a simple engineer. A woman living under the shadow of the wealthy and powerful! Ever since he'd gotten to this blasted planet, the trandoshan has had to fight and climb and claw his way to where he is now...the chief enforcer of a gang that didn't even have enough clout to coerce a scared little mechanic girl desperately clutching the coat of the thief who robbed them in their own bar.

The trandoshan regarded Lira Virel with soft eyes and for a split second he almost looked...sad. "I dream of the day...I don't have to be degraded by harlotssss like you and I can live peacefully without shame." The anger and flooded back into the trandoshan's eyes as he quickly spun toward Lira and shunted her into the floor with the butt of his rifle before raking his claws across Lucky's jacket and ripping it from the engineer's hands with ease. "I've had enough of thissss! We have the coat, we have the evidence, we have the droidssss, we have everything except the chip and we KNOW he was here so enough with the lies! Tell us where he went!"

Shaking the coat and running his massive scaly hands through its many pockets, the trandoshan hoped the only thing between them and their prize would be a few inches of fabric but was visibly disappointed to see that wasn't the case.

"Auuuugh you little-!" The monster reached down and effortlessly grabbed Lira off the floor and turned her in the direction of the Cricken's holding R4 captive. The reptile put her in a headlock and held her so that she wasn't able to turn in any other direction. "We only need one of the droidssss...blast that one! Maybe that will loosen her lips!" With a nod of the head, the weequay primed his blaster and aimed at the astromech who futility tried to shake it's way out of the arms of the Cricken's.

"These models might as well be obsolete anyway..." With a fiendish smile the weequay closed his left eye, pulled the trigger and...nothing. He checked to see that the safety was off and fired again...nothing. He tried again and again to the confusion and snickering of the others until he finally decided to check the energy cartridge and saw that it was...full? "W-W-What?"

"We needn't do that."

An exotic masculine voice cried out from the inside the radiant blood red lights flooding the hangar door. Seven figures stood in the open bay and methodically entered the garage, the sound of heavy boots and armor reverberating through the steel walls. Central in the line of men was a figure draped in a dark navy blue cloak wearing a ruffled white shirt, black leather trousers and black leather loafers with a golden gear on the side of each shoe. His skin was a pale green and he had long girlish brown hair that reached down past his shoulders. He sported a bright red flower to the side of his bangs. His eyes were a deep emerald green but his sclera was a murky infinite void black...and his teeth...they were perfectly manicured but were razor sharp almost like the trandoshan's except smaller and more...appropriate? On his sides were masked soldiers armed with rifles and dressed in shiny all black armor with a gold trim around the joints and plating.

"Because I have arrived." The man feigned disinterest by looking off into the distance but it only confused everyone in attendance as there was nothing in the direction he was looking besides a few boxes.

"Who dis?" Someone finally whispered which seemed to offend the green skinned gentleman. "My name is Furnir Wichor. The eldest son of the Wichor family..." Furnir turned his gaze toward the trandoshan and more importantly Lira who was being held so tightly in his arms. To the others, Furnir was just a well dressed criminal aristocrat who'd made an ordeal of making his entrance grand but for some reason to Lira...his presence had a deep icky feeling to it. It was as though there was some outer entity blasting warning signals at her with every step Furnir took.

"And I've come to reclaim...what's mine." Still speaking with his Avant edge, Furnir approached Lira and motioned for the trandoshan to release her. He couldn't understand why but almost without thinking, the monster did as commanded and dropped Lira to the floor with an almost involuntary motion. Kneeling down, Furnir surveyed Lira and was immediately encapsulated with her and wasn't sure why. There was an ethereal quality to her...could it be?

"You have such amazing hair..."

Furnir's lips opened in a smile so wide and toothy with a maw behind them so dark and endless that it was immediately clear just how inhuman this new character was. The way he gazed at Lira wasn't with adoration but with the same dark intent a mad doctor would share with their patient.

"Let's not see it cut shall we? Tell me what you know of our little thief."

 

[Lira Virel]

Lira's body throbbed with a symphony of pain, every nerve ending tingling with a fiery protest. The trandoshan's brutal blow echoed through her skull, sending pulsating waves of agony reverberating across her consciousness. The world swayed and blurred before her, the room spinning in a disorienting dance. She fought against the dizziness, her head pounding with each heartbeat.

Gasping for air, Lira struggled to gather her thoughts amidst the haze of pain and exhaustion. Every inch of her body ached, her muscles trembling with fatigue. The taste of copper lingered on her tongue, a bitter reminder of the violence she had endured. She clenched her teeth, willing herself to remain coherent, to push through the physical and emotional torment that threatened to engulf her. Through blurred vision, Lira's gaze met the trandoshan's unyielding reptilian eyes. Anguish and determination intertwined within her, swirling like a tempest within her soul. She fought against the overwhelming urge to surrender, to succumb to the darkness that threatened to engulf her. Instead, she mustered a defiant glare, her eyes burning with a flicker of resilience.

"You think you can break me," she growled, her voice strained but filled with an unwavering determination. "But I've faced worse than the likes of you. I won't yield, not to your cruelty or your demands."

The trandoshan's grip tightened around her, his claws digging into her flesh. Pain shot through her body like lightning, a searing reminder of her vulnerability. But even in the midst of agony, Lira refused to let fear cloud her resolve. She summoned every ounce of strength, resisting the urge to scream out in anguish. As her captor's attention shifted to Lucky's jacket, Lira's heart sank. She had held onto that precious memento, clutching it as a symbol of hope and connection. Now it was torn away, leaving a void in her hands. But she wouldn't allow them to witness her despair, her pain concealed beneath a mask of defiance.

Her eyes darted between her captors, a mix of desperation and calculation in her gaze. The weequay's taunts echoed through the air, fueling the tension that crackled around them. Lira's mind raced, searching for a way to protect R4, her loyal astromech companion, from the impending danger. She refused to let harm befall her droid friend, even if it meant putting herself at greater risk. Yet, in a twist of fate, a sudden interruption shattered the oppressive atmosphere. The hangar doors swung open, revealing a procession of figures marching with purpose. Their presence injected a fresh wave of confusion and unease into the already volatile situation. Lira's gaze fixated on the enigmatic figure leading the group, draped in a dark navy blue cloak.

Furnir Wichor—the name resonated within her, carrying an air of danger and mystery. There was an unsettling aura surrounding him, a palpable sense of darkness that sent shivers down her spine. A mix of caution and curiosity gripped her as she observed him, her senses heightened by a primal instinct warning her of potential peril. Furnir's approach sent a chill through her veins, his gaze fixated on her with an intensity that set her on edge. She felt his eyes probing, dissecting her, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. There was something unnerving about his words, his focus on her hair—an aspect of herself she had rarely given much thought. It was as if he sought to unravel her secrets, to unlock the hidden depths of her being.

Lira's voice wavered, a tinge of vulnerability seeping through her words. "I... I know little of this thief you seek," she managed to say, her voice strained but filled with a mix of weariness and defiance. "I'm but a weary soul caught in the midst of chaos. Release me, and I will go my own way, far from this treacherous game."

Pain radiated through her body, every movement a reminder of her battered state. Yet, amidst the torment, Lira clung to a fragment of hope—a tiny chip concealed within her hand. She tightened her grip, the weight of it offering solace and possibility. In the face of uncertainty, she steeled herself, determined to navigate the treacherous path that lay ahead, even if it meant confronting her own limitations and discovering hidden reservoirs of strength within.

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

Furnir tilted his head at Lira's words and sighed with pity. Against the Crickens her defiant expression and confident tone of voice were enough to conceal her true feelings, but against him...they were nothing. A mere curtain that could be pulled away to reveal the window overlooking her scared and confused soul. On some level she wasn't lying, Lira truly didn't comprehend the severity of what was going on around her or just how deep she and this thief of hers had gotten in this situation. And if Furnir could help it...things would stay that way. The creature, too eccentric to be a man, reached out and caressed Lira's neck with a touch so gentle that the nerves could barely register it. His contact was calming...too calming, a dangerous calm that arrived before a storm that would ravage the land. Everything about Furnir was telling Lira to run, scram, get as far away from this creature as possible, and yet she didn't devolve into blind panic as if reeled in by some unnatural force of attraction.

It wasn't that she, or the others for that matter, wanted to be around Furnir but instead by some warped sense of reality, they couldn't get the motivation to distance themselves. To someone knowledgable in the Force they'd recognize it as some sort of technique or anomaly almost immediately but to the untrained and ignorant like Lira Virel and the Crickens it was just an unnatural mental suppression coercing them.

"Now now my fair lady. We both know that isn't true. You know something of this thief, it's obvious." Furnir's fingernails shimmered with faint emerald energy so small that only Lira could see it as his fingernails slowly grew into claws so sharp that they effortlessly drew thin red lines along the engineer's nape.

"They didn't even ask your name, did they? How shameful." The trandoshan hissed in the background earning a pointed look from Furnir. "Well allow me to be the first. What do they call you?" After listening to Lira's reply, Furnir would gently take Lira's hand in his and lift the woman to her feet where he stood just a few inches above her. Turning toward the trandoshan, Furnir stretched his clawed hand out toward him. "The coat, if you will." The trandoshan did his best not to shiver in the face of this...thing as he handed him the coat and stepped back almost reflexively. He wondered just how much of their conversation Furnir had overheard...or if he was just standing there listening.

"Here. Take it." Furnir handed Lira the coat and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he pointed toward an area of the shop away from the others. "Let's have a talk over there. It'll be good to get away from the others won't it?" Without waiting for Lira's reply, Furnir began to lead her away until they were out of earshot where he could begin speaking again.

"You do realize...the situation you are in right now...don't you?" Furnir looked at the far side wall, again trying to appear mysterious. "In special social circles, not any you'd be a part of I hope, they call me the vulture because I only appear when someone's about to die..." Furnir grinned at Lira with that same predatory gaze from before. "Worry not. It won't be you. But I do need to know about that thief of yours." Grabbing Lira by both shoulders, Furnir turned her toward him and pulled her so close their chests were almost touching. "That boy, Lucky Pride, stole something of great importance to me and my family. I'm tasked with bringing it home and you can help me do that. You said it yourself, you are a soul caught in the chaos of the underworld so just tell me what you know about him and free yourself from these shackles."

Furnir pinched Lira's chin with his right thumb and index and tilted her head upwards. "He's just a common crook, but you must understand what he's doing right now has the potential to shake the very foundation of the underworld. And he doesn't even know it..." Furnir's voice for the first time took on a serious edge. "I'm not going to hurt you." He assured, his voice regaining its softness. "We both know you saw him so don't go down that path of denial, at least not with me. Don't tell me where he went, for now, I just want to know...why? Why are you protecting him? You know the danger you're in and yet you persist. You are even clutching his coat as a sign of comfort...why is that?"

 

[Lira Virel]

Lira's breath hitched as she locked eyes with Furnir, a shiver running down her spine. His presence, so dark and enigmatic, exuded an aura of intimidation that made her heart race. Her body still ached from the impact of the rifle's butt, and the pain radiated through her like a persistent reminder of her vulnerability. Yet, she refused to cower in his presence. Despite the weariness that clung to her every fiber, Lira stood tall, her posture resolute. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing upon her, a heavy burden that threatened to overwhelm her senses. But she wasn't one to back down easily, especially when it came to protecting what belonged to her.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, mingling with the remnants of the herbal concoction she had ingested earlier. The combination of pain and determination heightened her senses, sharpening her awareness of the world around her. The room seemed to pulse with an undercurrent of tension, as if it held its breath in anticipation of the clash between her fierce spirit and Furnir's unsettling presence. With each passing second, Lira's grip on reality tightened. She knew the situation was dangerous, that she stood on the precipice of a treacherous game. But she also knew that she couldn't falter now, not when her ship, her means of escape, was at stake.

Her voice quivered slightly, but her gaze remained unwavering as she locked eyes with Furnir. "You may think you hold all the cards, Furnir, but I refuse to be just another pawn in your twisted game." She felt a surge of energy within her, a flicker of determination that burned brighter than ever. It was as if a dormant power awakened within her, lending her the strength she needed to face Furnir's menacing presence head-on.

"You may scare me, Furnir, but I won't let fear dictate my actions," she declared, her voice laced with a defiant edge. "I am a survivor, and I will do whatever it takes to protect what is rightfully mine." She shifted her weight slightly, feeling the ache in her muscles protesting the movement. But she remained steadfast, her eyes blazing with an unyielding fire. "I won't reveal his whereabouts, not to you or anyone else. My loyalty lies with myself, my ship, and the chance to reclaim what was stolen from me."

As she spoke, Lira could sense the tension in the air, the unspoken threat that hung between them. But she stood tall, refusing to back down. She knew she had to defend her position, to protect her own interests, even if it meant facing the darkness embodied by Furnir.

In that moment, Lira embodied a paradox—a wounded warrior, fierce and determined, driven by a mixture of self-preservation and a glimmer of hope. She was ready to face whatever came her way, relying on her own resilience and the strength of her convictions to navigate the treacherous path ahead.

And should a fight break out - well, she wasn't without a bag of tricks.

Lucky Pride ​

 

[Lucky Pride]

Furnir steps back from Lira as she gives her fiery rebuttal to his thinly veiled coercion. He was beginning to question the abilities of the trandoshan and his cohorts when he saw they weren’t able to get the girl to talk without violence but now the green-skinned creature understood. She had spirit! He would’ve appreciated it if it wasn’t hindering his progress. He had great plans for tonight and he couldn’t suffer them being derailed by a random engineer and her thieving womp rat of an accomplice.

“So that ship was stolen from you?” He surmised given Lira Virel's words. “But you have his jacket…was there some kind of exchange? A tussle even? Intriguing…so your only part in this is to get that ship of yours back then?” Furnir leaned forward so that he was at eye level with Lira, his emerald eyes piercing into her brown. “You said you’re scared of me? Well, you shouldn’t be…I’m here to serve you by exterminating a pest who's stolen from us both.”

Standing up straight and clasping his hands behind his back, Furnir circled around Lira, his breath cold as ice and his tone of voice bone chilling as he came to a stop behind her. “Think about it, this is someone who’s stolen from all of us. We should all be working together. This man has made an enemy of some of the most influential syndicates on Nar Shaddaa and we’re having trouble tracking him down. How could you with your admirable but limited spirit do what our near infinite resources cannot?”

Furnir leaned closer to Lira and put his lips so close to her ear he could almost kiss it. “I want my that chip and you want your starship back…so why can’t we work together? I can sense these things you know…you’re riding on a common thief returning with what he stole while he knew that we would come here after him. Think about it! He's put your life on the line. He knows how dangerous we are and yet he still decides to leave you here...to protect him from the crossfire. A lesser being would've executed you just for being involved in this...however, I am different. I understand that you, like me, are just the innocent victim of a scoundrel's misdeeds. I apologize deeply that you felt the need to protect this Lucky character to reclaim your property, but you needn't live with that fear any longer. I mean after all...do you really expect someone who robs and deceives so casually to actually make good on his flimsy word?"

Furnir stepped back and chuckled to himself, it was a dry pitiful laugh fueled by malice instead of joy. “Be honest with yourself. You know that’s an impossibility.” Furnir looked to the roof of the garage and grinned to himself. I’ve got everything mapped out here. I mean who would be crazy and stupid enough to do something like that?

---

The Wichor family estate wasn’t actually an estate and was actually a massive barge the size of the Star Cluster Casino. The barge was like a sector in itself, it had a casino, hotel, balconies, pools, and just about every single distraction a vice slave could ask for. The damned thing even had its own red light sector the only difference being that the rates were higher and the clientele did a lot more in their power to keep their activities on the down-low. And the people that came here had no shortage of power.

Pulling onto a platform that extended out the flashing party lights of a large hangar bay, some sort of ship, never seen before in the skies of Nar Shaddaa landed alongside other guests landing on the barge. A line of guards and staff dressed in tightly pressed white collared shirts approached the new flock of guests as one of them, showing up in the unidentified fighter, seemed immediately out of place.

Eyeing, the specimen before him up and down a Wichor family guard tried to scratch his head through the metal helmet covering his face. Before him stood a gangly and filthy child with bright orange hair and dingy purple glasses that had no business being at a landfill let alone a communion of some of the top criminals and nerdowells on the planet. Yet here he was…grinning ear to ear after pulling up in what was admittedly a rather nice starship.

“Sooo what was your name-”

“Hey hey hey! What the hell!” The guard was dumbfounded as he was immediately cut off by this mongrel who somehow was back at his ship and screeching at the valet climbing inside. “What do you think you’re doing?” Lucky panicked as he grabbed the valet's porcelain white shirt and started to pull him out of the open cockpit. “You can’t just fly off in other people’s ships that’s totally like…stealing!!” He exclaimed as though the vessel was his in the first place. The valet and guard gave a glance at each other before the valet pulled himself from Lucky’s grasp and adjusted his tie, speaking with a very proper almost noble accent.

“S-Sir…I was merely parking your ship. No need to be distressed.” Lucky folded his arms, unimpressed. “I ain’t buying it, I bet you just want to steal my ship. Well, it won’t work!” The guard stepped toward Lucky and put a hand on his shoulder. The party hadn’t even started, how was he already drunk? “Sir you do know what a valet is right?” Lucky with the most sober and alert expression the guard had ever seen turned around and furrowed his brow as this orange-haired dimwitt looked at him like he was the idiot. “Valet? I thought those were dancers.”

The guard and the valet exchanged a look silently for a long moment. The three of them fell silent, trying to rationalize what was happening. The guard absolutely refused to believe Lucky was sober, the valet just chalked it up to a fumble of a joke, and Lucky was just trying to figure out why the valet wasn’t wearing a bodysuit…

“My good sir.” The valet put a hand over his heart and bowed his head before Lucky. “I swear on me and the honor of the Wichor family household that your ship will be safe in my humble hands.” Shoving his hands in his pockets Lucky squirmed at the valet’s gesture, a shiver running through his spine. “Fine fine. Just…stop bowing please?” The valet stood and cleared his throat before stepping back inside the N-1Fx.

“One thing though…” The valet turned and raised an eyebrow at Lucky who startled the man by suddenly appearing inches away from his face without a trace of movement. His pupils had dilated and his mouth was slightly open in a glower so deep and intense it looked like his face was painted in shadow and his eyes were lit with malice.

“If there’s even a single scratch on this ship we’ll find out how long it takes your soul to reach heaven when it has to float up from the bottom of Nar Shaddaa.”

The conviction that he spoke with…that look in his eyes…even his voice took on a mask, not the kind a teen might use to get into an R-rated film or anything like that. This…was true terror, the darker side of the whimsical and carefree coin. The valet felt a cold sweat drip down his chin before he cleared his throat and regained his composure, always a professional. “I will endeavor to see that your vessel is unharmed sir…” Before Lucky could say anything else, the Valet had shut the hatch 0n the cockpit and blasted off the platform and around the barge.

“It’s a really nice ship, sir.” The guard spoke up trying to calm this guest of unknown origin. He was given explicit instructions to be cordial with all the invitees no matter how erratic they may be, they were dangerous criminals after all. “I vaguely recognize the design, does it have Naboo origins?”

Lucky shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. I stole it.” The guard chuckled nervously in response. With people like these, he couldn’t tell if Lucky was being serious or not. “At any rate. Can I get your name? For the records and such.” Lucky slicked his hair back with no gel and pushed his goggles onto his forehead.

“Lucky. Pride.”