Sympathy for the Devil

[Hazel Scheler]

"Never needed a helmet as an excuse to stare," Hazel replied shortly, posture shift indicative of either a lack of shame or an abundance of confidence. Maybe both. Really she hadn't noticed and she supposed that was par for the norm when one lived and traveled alone. You get used to doing things your way and forget all about manners and etiquette. Like that time on Tattooine when she turned down the offer of a drink of some good vintage from [member="Sarge Potteiger"] - what had she learned that day? Never turn down an offer for a drink and never forget your own rules.

"But if it makes you feel better and since it's your ship," gloved hand lifted to unlock the seal of her helmet with a hiss, she pulled it free from the raised collar and ran her other hand through the short locks of brown hair. Helmet tucked under left arm the woman cocked her head to one side, brows raised lazily. Hazel eyes followed the direction of his hitched thumb to the mini fridge, "I'm not one to pass up booze at a gun show. What you got in there?"

She was only one tumbler in today, and that was hardly breaking quota.

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"Thanks," I guess. It was a little weird was all, then again if she hadn't been reasonably attractive Dak probably would let sleeping dogs lie. Canton certainly didn't regret the request, eyeing her with a slight grin. Helmet hair didn't seem to detract much from her hazel eyes and sharp features. Since staring wasn't taboo, Dak took his time and didn't try to hide it either. Fair was fair, after all.

He nudged the fridge open with a foot, still busy staring. "Microbrews, some Whyren's reserve. Rhuvian Fizz, if you're into girly stuff. Only two bottles of that though."

As he continued to list off drinks, his eyes dropped lower, wondering what else besides a cutting tongue and a pale face lay beneath the armor.

"Trooperbreath. Personally, I've been getting into the Vlizz-kick. Really packs a punch."

His eyes crept back up to her face. Eh. She was probably fat.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Nn," Hazel responded in kind with a glance to the fridge before turning her attention back to the case of rifles, "never liked the sweet stuff. That Reserve though..."

She was extremely aware of the man's gaze visually attempting to undress her and did not seem phased by it in the slightest. Female Mercs were a rarity in the space stations, she couldn't hardly stop for a refuel without getting all sorts of eyes at the local pubs. It was part of the reason she traveled with the hound - the ugly beast was a very good distraction and, shockingly, also a good deterrent. Amazing how many space jarheads were afraid of dogs.

"Is that... a Czerka 838," the woman leaned in towards the stand, eyes narrowing, smirk forming, "always wanted to try my hand at one of those. Never could justify the purchase. Physical ammo's so damn expensive."

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Definitely fat.

"Yep, but hey, lifetime supply."

After rummaging around in the fridge for a moment, Dak produced the requested beverage and handed it to Hazel, keeping a beer for himself.

"Cee Zee is what I'll be using on this op. Can't beat those 5.56mm shock rounds. They'll mop up clankers. You can borrow the CZ automatic pistol. Never liked having a slug thrower as my sidearm. Versatile, sure, but not the most reliable. In my experience, nothing's a match for a good blaster at your side."

He winked.

Dak was a little spoiled when it came to ammo. Then again, that had backfired on more than one occasion. He still remembered his magazine bursting into flames after Adekos' hijinks on Kashyyyk.

The commando took a swill. Hm. Still crappy.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Left brow larked, pulling with it the jagged line of scarring running through that traversed from her hairline down along the corner of her eye and split off across the ridge of her cheekbone and down further still past her jawline, along her neck where it disappered into the collar of her armor. Several other scars similar in definition branched across the right side of her face as well, cutting a bolted line along her brow and the bridge of her nose, down past her lips and chin. They riddled her neck in a jagged array, all of them resembling bolts of lightning and all of them - as the lights briefly flickered out in the room - giving off a noticeable faint red glow of lingering darkside corruption.

Ivy opened her drink in the short interlude of darkness and took a taste as if nothing at all were odd about this. Old ships, what could you do?

Rrrrrrrr-nnnnng. The sound of electrical circuits growling. Bzz bzz. The lights came back on.

"Don't work much with lethal rounds personally," she admitted, "but I'd agree about the blaster. I'll take reliable over fancy tech any day."

Another drink from the bottle, Hazel looked upwards at the flicker of lights, "I know a kid that could fix that for you cheap. If you're ever in Mando territory ask around for [member="Samael Rekali"] and his girl Fennec. Saved me a few expensive trips to the repair yard."

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"What? You don't like my mood lighting?"

Dak feigned offense, only half fake. He'd be damned if he'd let some random recommend lay a hand on his baby. She could still purr, couldn't she? Yes. Yes she could. Nobody'd be laying a finger on those ship systems but him. And maybe a hot mechanic or two. Definitely not one of fatty's friends.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks." ​Not touchin' my ship.

Another swig went down his gullet. Not so bad after the first sip. Reminded him why he kept these bottles around.

"Should be coming up on Raxus in about five minutes. Should probably get back to the dash," he made toward the doorway, lingered at the exit, gave her a look over his shoulder with all the subtlety of the word 'libido.'

"Unless you've got some other idea of what to do with five minutes."

Wait, why did he say that? Damn it, Dak, you're better than this. Chubby chasing is for guys who can't hack it in the big leagues. Pun not intended.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Hazel eyes casually traipsed up and down [member="Dak Canton"]'s figure, brow raising at the question that screamed so heavily to read between the lines she might go crosseyed.

"Yeah," she said, taking a short smirking swig of her drink, "I have an idea."




There was an intensity to the woman's gaze not quite unlike that of a predator playing with its prey as clenched teeth bared through a growing grin. Braced against the table top, sweat beginning to bead on her brow, Hazel's brow arched as she felt the man's muscles clench against her own strength. He was strong and she could tell that in a fair match he'd likely garner the upper hand, but Hazel was enjoying herself far too much to play fair. These rowdy Mercs with their dirty minds - well, there was only so much pomp and pretention a gal like her could stand.

Did her good to tussle with the dirt of the galaxy. The fight for dominance kept a Merc's edge sharp.

But five minutes was five minutes and as much as she was enjoying this seemingly equal play of strength, it was time to give up the gambit.

"Is that it?" the woman quipped through grit teeth, smirk stretching her lips as the man began to lose his ground, arm bending back under a strength she'd kept hidden until now, "C'mon Poster Boy, quit playing games."

 

[Marcus Tritum]

A single droplet of perspiration fell from Dak's forehead and onto the table, between their straining muscles. The chick lasted way longer than she should have, but Canton felt like he was on the verge of smacking the back of her hand into the table. Bam. Done. Just like a dozen others before her. Well, not really. Canton hadn't arm wrestled since.... well, he couldn't remember when. Somewhere in between running guns and working for the Fringe.

Suddenly, she seemed to get a second wind and Dak watched with scrunched up features as his arm bowed backward.

"Holy crap," Dak gasped, a shoot of pain trembling up his forearm. His bicep felt like it was on the verge of ripping.

She shot a jibe at him, then slammed his hand into the table. Dak gaped, arm limp, muscles spent.

"What the hell, you got a friggin docking clamp for a hand?"

Probably all that fat she had, must've leaned a little, put her weight on him. Cheater.

The ship chimed. Dak grunted, massaging his wrist. "Comin' up on Raxis. Better get buckled in."

* * *​

They emerged from the blue whorl of hyperspace in view of the junkyard planet. The ugly red orb didn't look any prettier in atmosphere than it did from space. Clouds of noxious plumed from industrial plants run by people who cared nothing for the plant. But nobody had cared about Raxis' ecosystem in eons. And Dak wasn't exactly a nature-lover.

Damn hippies.

Still, even he had to admit that Raxus was the -

"-Fugliest planet I've ever seen."

The ship dipped down.

"Grouchy's plant is straight ahead. Hey look, even got a landing pad reserved just for us."

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"I'd say it has a....rustic charm."

There was no helping that one. Something about the fratboy in Dak drew out the immaturity in Hazel. She noted this and decided not to let it get drawn out any further. Bad puns were bad no matter what.

"Leads for where our target might be are about as useful as a chocolate teapot [[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]]. Our general lead vicinity is about 200 square acres of playing mousebot in the junkstack. Scanning for organic lifeforms might not be too useful, but if we can find his office... a piece of clothing, something that belonged to him, Jet here might be able to track him down."

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"Good idea," Dak said, eyes narrowed on the viewport as he settled the light freighter down on the designated landing pad. "Well, lets go see if we get a welcoming party."

Answer? No. Not a single droid.

Not on the landing pad. Not when they flashed their access pass across the security lock and entered the facility. Not even in the large, gunmetal gray room that the door led to, a room full of turbo lifts. The receptionist desk was empty. Small wonder.

Dak frowned and slung his Czerka rifle over a shoulder. "Freaky."

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Claws clicked on duracrete paneled floors alongside the tamping of boots. Hazel paused as they entered the main entry room and took stock of this strange situation. Nothing. Absolutely no one.

"I think I'd almost rather get a gunfire welcome..." the Merc commented as she moved towards the Reception Desk and leaned to peer over the top side. Finding a body in a pool of blood wasn't exactly what she was hoping for, but neither was finding an empty chair. Another glance around, HUD of her helmet panning for lifeforms and coming up blank, she shrugged and rounded the desk to pull out the seat.

She tapped a few keys and the holodisplay blipped into illuminated life.

Hazel gave a grunt, peering at the separate screens, then activated a search prompt, "Not exactly a computer whiz but...I've got his name and office number. 5J."

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

No expert on computers either, Dak decided nodding seemed most sensical.

"The Foreman? Alrighty, that's a start."

The Hegemonic Automaton Repossession Agent started walking toward the turbo lift.

Abruptly, a stocky three-eyed alien came around the corner of a hallway and nearly bumped into Canton.

"Uh..."

"Uh..."

They both said simultaneously, except Dak now had a pistol in hand and shoved up against the Gran's stomach.

"The Foreman, where is he?" Dak's other hand shot out and he grabbed a fistful of the alien's shirt. "Talk dammit!"

The Gran bleated in consternation, stalk eyes protruding wildly. "Wh-what? We j-j-just went to take my lunch break. Why is this happening to me?"

"What do you mean we, who do you work for?"

"Hega-hegamonic Automaton."

"What? This place is deserted. Who're you trying to fool?"

"I- what? It's a... we produce labor droids here."

Oh.

Suddenly, Dak remembered having a very similar conversation in Ardik's office. Something about the facility's production lines being turned over from TA4s to Z-3s after the incident.

"Uh..." Canton holstered his pistol with a sheepish look. "Oops."

What he wouldn't give to do a Jedi Mind Trick right now. 'This never happened.' 'Go back to your desk.' Well, whatever. Goatface took his lunch break at the wrong time.

"Who are you people?"

"Repo Agents."

"Repo?"

"From Mr. Ardik."

"Mr. Ardik?"

"Yeah, we'll be going to office 5J now. Don't follow us."

"I-"

Dak was already in the turbo lift, punching the button for the proper floor and waiting for Hazel to catch up.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

The armored Merc watched this exchange in silent amusement from her seat at the desk, the visor of her helmet gleaming just over the top of the stand. Her eyes panned between the two, grip on Jet's leash tightening as Dak released the worker back to his minimum wage minutes. What a slip up. What a fething ball drop. Who was this guy again?

With goat-face unhanded she slipped from the desk, pulling the Blackstalker along with her as it attempted to molest the man on the way by. Hazel stepped into the lift and promptly commanded the beast into a sit; boot-to-ass.

"Smooth work, Canton, real smooth."

The lift gate closed.

"Almost as smooth as your ass on the cover of Issue 12."

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

The hum of the lift filled the intervening silence a few seconds after Hazel's comment.

So did Dak's smug smile.

"Oh, you saw that one?"

Special edition. Premium members only. Maybe there was more to this chick than perma-armor and a scary pet. Maybe she wasn't fat.

The canine beast seemed to sense his thoughts and bared its teeth at him.

Then again, maybe she was, but he didn't really have any way to uh, verify that information. 'Cept one. Well, what the hell. Can't never could and he hadn't even tried trying. Was he on a job? Yeah, technically, but he wouldn't be here now if kriffing Moneybags hadn't screwed up in the first place. Not that he wouldn't still do the job, or take the guy's money, but he'd do it on his own terms.

"So..." he turned his head her way, "Scroogeface didn't exactly give us a timeline for when the job needed to be done..."

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Wow.

Hazel didn't look over at the man or his waggling eyebrows, but Jet was giving him plenty of attention for her. All the wrong kinds of attention, but plenty of it. The Merc rolled her head within her helmet, spine cracking in response, and followed through by resetting broad shoulders beneath their pauldrons. Her grip on Jet's leash loosened for only a second and the Blackstalker lunged with a snarl, saliva flying every which way as the beast snapped his gaping jowls at the man.

"Hau," the command came with a sharp jolt on its leash, "suut."

It sat, but it kept on growling.

"Let's just get to the office, Canton," flat tone carried over the speaker of her armor. The lift gate hissed as they arrived on level 5. Hazel stepped out first, gaze panning from one end of the hall to the other before landing on directional signs on the wall across the way.

<< A - G
H - O >>

She hung a right and stepped off down the corridor. Three doors later the trio stood before office J. Hazel had half a mind to kick it in and she wasn't really sure where that moment of aggression had cropped up from, but rather than drawing undue attention their way by causing a commotion (or having to deal with the backlash of causing further undue damage to Adekos' facility) she simply reached to the keypad and slid a Maintenance card through the reader that she'd swiped from the Receptionist's desk.

Bing.

The door slid open.

Hazel released Jet's leash and let the beast in first before looking to Dak, "After you."

 

[Marcus Tritum]

What the kriff!

Had the mangy mutt just tried to bite him? And she'd let him do it too, letting the leash slide out like that. Dak smiled sheepishly at the ravenous beast, not too fond of the way it was dripping strands of saliva down from a slavering maw. He made a placating motion with both hands.

"Woah, woah. Nice doggy."

Hazel said something in its command tongue and the beast calmed the kriff down. Dak relaxed a bit.

Yeah, you did that on purpose.

His eyes leveled on her armored figure the same way a gunnery crew would point their cannons at a distant ship. Narrowed, suspicious, and calculating. She wouldn't have really let the dog bite him... would she?

The elevator dinged. They got off without incident and proceeded down the empty hallway until they reached the appropriate door. Hazel swiped a key card across it, which she'd got from who-knows-where, and the door slid open.

"After you."

"Thanks," he growled, tone a bit less chipper.

The inside of the room was about what one would expect of a factory foreman. All the guy's personal affects were still there. A few pictures of family and beloved pets. There was even an empty mug sitting on the desk that said "World's Best Foreman," which considering the world was Raxis Prime didn't exactly mean all that much.

"Hmm, no signs of a struggle. Kinda like he just up and vanished."

Dak plopped down into the chair behind the desk and began screwing around with the data terminal. "Let's see what he's got on the drive. Hmm."

Click. Click. Click.

"Work related documents." Click. Clack. "Some personal email files. What the-"

He leaned in closer to the screen.

"Forty terabits of porn. What the hell?"

The armored merc loomed. Dak glanced at her. "Seems a little excessive.... oh hello, what's this? An encryption program... why would he need that?"

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

After locking the door behind her Hazel set her beast to sweeping through with a short command. She'd made rounds through the small office to secure perimeter but really, in the office of the Foreman, there was nothing to worry about. Jet made a grumbling noise at the corner behind a beat-up looking couch and pulled out an old mousebot. He dropped it at Hazel's feet in a pile of drool before continuing to sniff about.

Hazel collected the mousedroid and popped open the bottom casing. The droid was long dead and full of dust but a small chip inside possessed a faintly blinking green light.

"Bugged," she muttered, reaching in and quashing the chip with her thumb, "the feth would bug a Foreman's office?"

Dak took the seat at the desk and began perusing the files, the comment about the porn getting a raised eyebrow from the Merc. She calmly walked after her beast as it tracked into the adjoined bathroom and quietly closed the door after it. Hazel set her rifle to lean against the end of the couch and reached up next to the seal clasp on her helmet - it released with a soft pop and hiss.

"Forty terabytes?" said over a derisive snort. She wasn't a tech wiz but even Hazel knew that- "that's a lot of fething porn."

And then the woman was looming back behind the scoundrel, and then her gloved hands were on his shoulders, and then she bent over and hissed something into his ear before leaning in for a nibble, hands slowly sliding south.

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Bugged? He heard the sound of sparking circuits and a definitive sound of snapping plastoids. Ugh, she'd just crushed it hadn't she? Could've backtracked the signal. Dak sighed, shaking his head slightly.

Amateur hour over here. He swore, if her chubby butt couldn't keep up when it came time to track down the baddies he would - Two foreign hands dropped on his shoulders. Dak froze. Those armor-back gloves drifted forward down the front of his duster, trailing along his chest and lower. Kark. He would - Hot breath tickled across an ear. She said something. He didn't hear. Too distracted by the sensation of warm lips along the neck. And those hands.

Dak cleared his throat.

"What, uh, woah," he squirmed in the chair, "Uh. What the hell are you doing?"

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"You're some kind of special, aren't you..."

He hadn't moved to stop her hands and so they continued forth, onwards, scouring the surface beneath the front of his blazer. Warm breath continued to tickle along his neck, Hazel smirked as she pressed her lips against his ear, "here I thought you were fixin' to lose and hour or two. Couldn't wait for me to put the damn dog away?"

She bit his ear, gentle-like, kind of.

"Or are you just all bark and no bite?"

The sputtering was only kind of cute. Hazel sneered into his hair which decidedly did not smell like lavender.

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Oh, so that's how it's going to be.

A slow, triumphant and incredibly stupid smirk rose its way up Dak's lips as she egged him on and he realized she wasn't just messing with him again. Well, however else the mission went, least this wasn't so bad. He felt her ruffling his hair, which smelled like gun lube.

"Little of both," he growled huskily, lust shooting up like firecrackers through his body and turning confused fumbling into a single primal purpose. Three guesses what. The first two don't count.

With a grunt, Dak rose from the chair, ditching the duster and vest to let them slide off his broad shoulders and pile onto the chair. Then he turned around, smug as a bug in a rug, and promptly kissed her full on the lips, pushing her backward, stumbling over the chair, until he had her against the wall. Bumbling fingers ran across her armor, unhitching locks and tearing the thing off piece mail. Scraps of shell flew willy-nilly, hitting the ceiling, tumbling on the floor, bonking off the desk. If the room had been neat before, Dak seemed pretty intent on turning it into a wreck.

Among other things...

The whole while his mouth was on hers, pulling, teeth biting.

Got her down to the body glove. Form fitting in every sense of the word.

Huh. Thought some part of Dak's brain that could still comprehend things like speech and logic. Not a fatty after all.

He peeled it off her, like a Gamorrean kid at the stars damned candy store, exposing pale lengths of flesh that glistened with sweat. The stormtrooper pinned her arms to the wall by the wrists while his mouth circumnavigated her body.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]