Private Weird Space

[Djorn Bline]

Terminus

He felt very much like a hypocrite and hated it. His whole life was to always have a different mask for whatever special task the Empire gave him. He enjoyed giving progress and approving reports to his superiors from his missions and the rest of his division, but it always inspired conflict within himself. Ideas be abhorred he now had to pretend to be one of them. The liquor helped and so far he hadn’t touched any recreational drugs...yet.

Some company helped which was why Loske was here. He developed an...interest in the woman. Djorn did admire how she gotten away with being an actress in the club they first met, a gig she conceded when revealing the truth about her. The fact she was training to be a Jedi bothered her, and something told him she was an agent of some sort. He liked her, and he also felt guilty using her for his own convenience.

Thinking about it stirred mix feelings within him. He pursued the ideals of Imperialism and order, but unlike what rebels would think of some sort of machine to brainwash citizens he still felt emotions as much as he’d like to repress them.

It was nightfall where the two walked, Djorn showing her around the trade of smuggling. The world was layout very much like Coruscant, just smaller. Titanic skyscrapers that challenged the heavens, an underbelly full of scum and other rogue elements, and always incoming and outcoming traffic. It was smaller and less laws; corporate figures probably taking advantage and imposing their unchallenged will that was backed up by the abyss of credits to their disposal.

“Hopefully you’re not carrying that sword of yours,” he said to his blonde companion as he led them to a turbo lift to take them below some levels, “you’ve seen the new bounty, right?” He referred to the intergalactic bounty the Empire published, giving incentive to all bounty hunters across the Galaxy for a new target; and there was a great amount of Jedi (even if mistaken for such creed) and hunters on this side of the ‘verse.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Terminus // Outer Planets Alliance Space
Djorn Bline
Don't hustle me
​

Loske's gaze was skyward and looking at some discharge filter from a rogue pipe -- it looked like unfinished handiwork. She side stepped some of the discharge in time to get ushered toward a lift to lower levels?

"Is this whole place just a scaled down Coruscant? I've never really gone beyond the spaceport..and..that one time at a droid spa that turned out to be a place trying to hack Frank for parts." At the memory, she rested a hand on top of the astromech's head who gave a grumbling noise. He had been having a great time until Loske and some agent of the OPA barged in and turned the shopkeeps to standing carbonite. Then Loske had shattered a hand. It was all very bad. She'd left out the back before being able to see Djorn there the first time.

The doors sealed shut and she narrowed her eyes at him warily. The topic change was surprising, and he didn't know much about Djorn - other than he was a self-proclaimed low life spacer just looking to make a few creds here and there doing what he could. He'd been around Terminus for the riot, but apparently hadn't received the same beep-boop-come-hither she had. Still, she was a trusting soul with a mind as pure as a diamond, so until he had something bad to show, he had her trust.

The quizzical expression was replaced with a coy grin and a shake of her head. "Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not here." Because they were the only folks in the lift, she extended her arms and gave a quick spin to evidence there was nothing traceable on her. Even the patch on her leather jacket was concealed.

"Besides, it'd probably be the only thing between me and a bounty collection." She rested against the railing of the lift, crossing her ankles and tossing an absent glance outside. "Yeah, I've seen it. Typical the Sith would need someone else to do their dirty work for them." She rolled her eyes. "There's a mass sum on my Master's head, pretty gross." Loske was a very good person to know if someone wanted to talk to an open vault, unfortunately.

"Where are we going anyways?"

 

[Djorn Bline]

“Kinda...this is my preferred setting. Same as Ord Mantell, ever been near that sector of space before?” he answered her question, carefully choosing his words that backed up what he proclaimed to be. Mentioning places like Ord Mantell, Nal Hutta, the belly of Coruscant and saying what kind of freelance work gave credit to all the lies he fabricated. Gosh, how much he hated himself. Also pretending to be the stereotypical rogue that didn’t have a damn about much, but had a heart of gold deep down. The problem was, was that he may have cared for Loske and couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow his emotions compromise his mission.

“You say that, Hot Pink,” throwing a grin at her, remembering the nicknames they played by when they first met. “I always believe a good blaster and some wits will help ya more...maybe a disruptor, too.” The real Djorn knew many tactics in neutralizing hostiles of different backgrounds. Jedi, Mandalorians, bounty hunters, and even Sith. Of course, he had to repress many of his techniques as it would be very odd to see someone of his profession knowing advanced techniques that disciplined militaries would know. “So long as you’re not wearing those ridiculous Jedi robes, you should be fine...you don’t wear them, right?”

Her comment about the Sith was metaphorically shrugged off, but there was something interesting about Djorn. He served imperial ideals, not Sith dogmas. He wanted a Galaxy of order and stability under Imperial regime, and he didn’t care much about the principles of the Sith. It was a bit annoying to see many of them within the bureaucracy of the Empire. “We’re going for some work, you wanted to know some about what I do; Imma show you. I got contacted for a job without much information about it. Nothing wrong with that, just means...well, a bit illicit that involves a lot of cash. Just don’t let your morals get in the way.”

Every Jedi has their morals and wished to apply it to the law. It got annoying, but everyone needed something to believe in, right? Something to guide them in this life.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Ord Mantell. “I’ve never been, no.” She admitted. “I’d like to one day though, it sounds weirdly nice. It’d be great to see the whole galaxy one day.” Loske caught herself before she got too wistful. Her whimsical expression turned into something close to a disconcerted frown “It’s tricky to do, too many borders now. Trips have to have a purpose.” She shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest and looking down at her feet with a mixed expression “Usually a violent one.”

Her inexplicable expression flushed at the reminiscence of her foray as an actress with a wig. She countered that with a small roll of her eyes. “I’ve got that too, right here.” She rapped the holster at her hip. Before she picked up a lightsaber, she’d had to depend on a blaster if she ever fell out of her star fighter. “Two out of three of those weapons you mentioned, you can consider covered.” Her mood lifted and she winked. “Haven’t used a disruptor though, have you?” A pause. “Got any more scars from it?” Smirk.

Then he insulted the Jedi robes and she popped the collar of her jacket and shook her head. “I don’t think I have to wear those until I hit menopause.” If she ever hit menopause. She was a clone and still navigating the biological parameters and what was included and what was not. “We share the sentiment that they’re very overrated.”

Djorn Bline explained where they were going, and she looked flabbergasted as the lift ‘dinged’ to indicate the arrival to their designated floor. “W-work?”

The idea of partnering on some unknown contract was worrisome. “Does this mean I get to see your ship?”

 

[Djorn Bline]

“Plenty, like to see? That’s still something you gals like, yeah,” giving a flirt to Loske’s sentence about his scars. Yeah, she was far from acting like a Jedi. She acted more like a smuggler with the way she dressed and how she behaved. He couldn’t help but laugh when she, too, insulted the Jedi robes and added on about “menopause”.

“Clearly they got you doing push-ups with that mouth of yours in the temple. Keep it up and you might have stronger muscles than me, maybe you can outmatch a Firrerreo in an arm wrestle.”

She looked shocked when the idea of working alongside him reached her ears. It’s like a dream that would never see reality. She, a Jedi, working with a smuggler? She wouldn’t be the first one nor the last. Typically smugglers and Jedi found mutual agreement much like a Sith and a bounty hunter. She even sounded more exciting to see his ship probably got her mind spinning around on what it looks like.

“No, Loske, I’m simply gonna leave you outside before you could even step a foot on the boarding ramp. Yes, you are going to see my ship,” he joked with subtle sarcasm behind his voice.

The lift made a fast, yet calm stop at the level Djorn meant to take them. Stepping out they’d come a street full of unique species, indulged in scummy jobs, attending food joints that were more standup bars than to sit and dine in.

“Think they got those fries you like? But then we gotta worry about your diet for the big screen,” again joking about the time they met.

There was more to scene: it was like any other lower level like Coruscant. Brothels that were probably operational because of slavery, cantinas that could use some remodeling, alleyways that tempted one to smoke a death stick or would get someone being mugged with a vibroknife. It’s what one expected from a society and a faction that encouraged freedom; freedom that wasn’t in check devolved to lawlessness.

“Stay close...they’ll see you like the newest thing on the dessert menu. One thing about this type of life: never be someone’s queen. The moment you do, you’ve opened the whole door for everyone to take advantage in whatever shape or form.”

It’s why there were mostly males in the scene with little woman who were just there to serve the lust of skin their patrons desired. Either folks would respect that Loske was with Djorn, or they’d be cocky and try their luck. No laws to stop anyone, just a blaster.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

A flush found it's way to her cheeks at the leading comment about scars and things that remained to be seen. Typical she'd walk into some sort of exchange like that. Djorn Bline seemed to have a special aptitude for taking something and making it air on the side of provocative.

Taking his ship, and being able to see it (sarcastic commentary aside), meant that they weren't signing on with pirates at least. If he was operating the vehicle, at least there'd be some level of control in the exchange. She only rolled her eyes and made a vague face-palming gesture while stepping out of the lift to another layer of bustling activity. A swath of species greeted them. Paws, claws, tentacles and hands all milling about and executing deeds that she hadn't really been exposed to. Life inside a cockpit was pretty myopic.

The wandered, and she peeked into doorways. Most of them were overshadowed - difficult to see the patrons inside. They probably preferred it that way. Many were unaccustomed to the light of day, or didn't wish to be seen clearly. The streets were alive with thrumming conversation - a steady babble of human and alien tongues, all of it indistinguishable. "I only accept roles that let me eat what I want." She responded, opting for the less crude or suggestive response.

"Seems like a contest of wills." She observed, inadvertently keeping her pace in check with the faux-smuggler's. "How do you stay on top all the time if everyone's out for themselves?" It made sense, not offering favours. Everything was probably operated on deals and consequences.

Loske didn't need The Force to sense a few curious eyes leering after the pair of blondes as they meandered. She challenged a few of them, snapping back to look at them. A few sheepishly averted their gaze, others stood up to the challenge -- but she and Djorn kept walking. Loske should have known better. This was the sort of crowd that likely scoured the bounty list for a few extra creds.

"Maybe I should bring back the pink wig.." she murmured, loud enough for her companion to hear while side stepping a collective group of people shaking rocks in a cup and spilling them back out into their circle. Cheering or scowling at the results.

"So what's this job you've got lined up?"

 

[Djorn Bline]

“Sometimes...well, sometimes you have to do crude things in this type of life, Loske,” he started explaining to her when she asked that question of how he managed to stay afloat. The actual question was that he had access to an account of credits the Empire had for him to supplement himself and buy himself whatever he needed without making it too obvious. In these sectors he wasn’t a well known smuggler and it would have been obvious to roll up with a hot fancy corvette. Hell even famous smugglers like Han Solo weren’t that rich. “Sometimes backstabbing happens in this profession, sometimes folks take a gamble and blindside a client with risks of bounty hunters sent after him. It’s a complicated business, Loske, and it’s one you can’t let your morals take control.”

A good insight and plausible in this line of business when it was clearly a criminal profession in most places.

“I’m not really what you think of me, Loske. You probably think I’m the classic badass smuggler beating a Stormtrooper with their own helmet and constantly betting against the odds, and saving the day. I’m something far from that thought,” hopefully she’d take that as a hint to not trust him. Why would he allow himself to say something like that to the enemy? Mainly because he cared. A lot of life he didn’t know unveiled to himself. Maybe he could send coordinates and other information to the Empire just to sabotage the Alliance. But would be do it while risking Loske?

Not a chance and he hated being so up about it.

“Hah! The pink wig would most likely get these scumbags whistling at you. Probably mistake you for a Zeltros.”

Little did he know when Loske gave snapping looks back to some of patrons, no matter their species, they were being followed. Lots of folks had a lot of pride and didn’t like he idea of a woman putting them in their place. If they didn’t let another male getting ahead of them, little for a woman. Advanced the Galaxy might be, but old habits didn’t die off easily.

“So far they didn’t mention. It’s something really illegal and crude for them to let me know by holo. Maybe they have a grudge against the Alliance and do business with the Hutts. Lots of factors,” and if he refused? Well that would lead to a lot problems.

“Hey!” a Weequay gangster with a Rodian on his right, a Zabrak behind, and a Duros on his left. At least they didn’t have a Trandoshan for heavy muscle. “Ya little girlfriend gave us a look we didn’t really like. I think we deserve an apology,” he demanded at Djorn. The blonde Imperial only gave him a raised eyebrow and looked at Loske. Obviously a little sorry wouldn’t do the trick. Typical thugs that asked for more. “Look, pal, I’m about to make cash over here and I’m in a good mood. I’d hate for that mood to change.”

“Haha! Thinking better than us, eh chump?” and the Rodian shoved Djorn with an arm. “We can let this slide if you cough up some credits and maybe ten minutes with her,” and gave a sly look at Djorn and Loske.

“Ten minutes each for us,” the Zabrak added.

Now Loske would know what Djorn meant by not being a great guy. Lots of the other patrons looked at the action unfolding and were intrigued on seeing where it went, especially with Djorn having a client. Everyone was an opportunist and would take a shot for the job he had.

“Or,” Djorn began, “each of you can cough up one hundred credits each and let her have twenty minutes with you, but not the fun way. Or else...” and his hand was ready to draw a vibroknife from his pocket. No doubt they’d force themselves over them with having the numbers, but little did they know they were up against a Jedi and her ragtag companion. He’d wager money on the lightsaber.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

I'm something far from that thought.

How far? She looked at him quizzically, searching for an explanation to such an ominous sentiment. But then he changed the course of the conversation back to the ways of Terminus, and she was stuck with her hands in her pockets and a cloud over her head.

Milliseconds before someone yelled at them, she stopped in her tracks and extended her arm out to Djorn Bline to make him pause too. No matter, the trio ahead of them made sure their path would not continue forward.

Her lips recoiled in distaste at their suggestion, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She had the luxury of being able to dismiss their petty demands for her person and their pleasure -- but the horrible reality of privilege dawned on her. How many other people had they stopped just like this, and gotten away with it? So instead of rolling her eyes, she shuddered at that revolting and disappointing thought.

Djorn was quick on the defence, reaching for his weapon. This made the trio show their aggression even more - their shoulders rolling in preparation. As if being limber would help them out.

"I'm insulted." Loske announced, tensing as well. "I don't need twenty minutes."

I'm something far from that thought.

"Oh you're a smart mouth. What else does it do?" The weequay scowled, his leathery skin tightening with disdain.

"You're gross." She snarled, sparing a glance to Djorn and furrowing her brows. Was this a set up? Did he want to seem like the good guy, while bringing her into a cliché trap and collecting some bounty on her? He knew she was a student of the Jedi. This seemed too perfectly timed. He didn't say what job they were doing, she was several levels down from where they'd started...

"And you're dead!"

If it was a trap, these were convincing actors who escalated quickly. They didn't give her much time for her mental cogs to whirr and try to piece things together -- all she could do was doubt the intentions of her blond companion while avoiding the first rush of the brute. The Zabrak had proclaimed death on her, and rushed forward with an aggravated roar -- announcing his intentions. She stood her ground until the last moment, and peeled away with a twist as he looked to grip at her midriff and tackle her down to the ground. Instead, she simply kept her leg extended to trip him. His friend, the Rodian, came next. He had a sword similar to Djorn's and was swiping it overhead, which she ducked before kicking off and jutting forward with an elbow into his gut. She didn't need a lightsaber to defend herself. Teras Kasi came first.

"Do you know these guys!?" She yelled at Djorn while the Zabrak stood up and the Weequay gathered himself for an attack.

 

[Djorn Bline]

It was inevitable for these punks to strike first. He had seen their type countless of times, and not because of his “work” as a smuggler. They were a unique case to study and observe, he’ll give them that and in those studies of his he found similar traits in others.

One was aggressive behavior.

And another was sloppy fighting techniques that were learned from a cantina or in an ominous alley. Scum like this usually covered this up with the aid of numbers. It’s why they traveled in their packs and gangs. A slave kid in the Hutt fighting pits could fight better than these men.

“Excuse me?”

Know these guys? What?! Did she really think he’d betray her. Well, he couldn’t blame her as he was an Imperial Agent seeking to sabotage groups the Jedi and freedom fighters were drawn to, but deliberately risk her life?

The Weequay made his approach at Djorn, and Djorn allowed him. The alien threw a punch and would realize his mistake when the vibroknife was placed between his abdomen. The pain would be insufferable to handle as the vibrations of the knife would tear more muscles and draw more blood.

Next came the Duros and Djorn came in with a combination that would land a knee right on the alien’s side and hurt its liver. It was clean, but Djorn knew he couldn’t display he knew fighting skills that belonged to a trained soldier. It would compromise his story. So what he did next was just snap kick at alien to give distance and pull out his blaster pistol, leading to the trigger being pulled three times to land his shots squarely on his chest which were obviously fatal. An act like that would draw them the attention of the public and he hoped none were willing to join.

His next thoughts were to shoot at the other two thugs and then realized he couldn’t because he’d risk shooting Loske. Going for an alternative, he only paced himself to take by surprise the Rodian focused on Loske with the handle of his pistol.

How’s that for knowing these guys with two of them dead.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske didn't say anything further in the moment - she was concentrating on not defaulting to her Jedi training in this brawl. If she did that, she may as well take some red paint and slap it in a circle on her back.

The Rodian that had wanted to contend with her buckled under the butt of the pistol Djorn Bline ; the hit surprisingly effective.

Her brows raised in surprise.

About this time, the Zabrack was back on his feet and charging once more. Loske'd been occupied with trying to see how Djorn was operating, seeing if any of it was choreographed or not, that the Zabrack managed to knock her over. With a grunt, she was on her back while he came in with a punch that collided painfully into her cheek. He was stronger than an average human, and when his knuckles landed her vision clouded. A black vignette appeared around the peripherals of her vision and she gasped, feeling the rawness of her cheek. It was enough of a distraction for him to grapple his weapon out and level it to her face with a toothy grin and a growl.

"Ya loud mouth schutta. Shoulda done the time."

Stretching her neck to avoid the pressure of the blaster, she grimaced and made a subtle gesture, hopefully undetectable and concealed in a movement that looked like she was struggling to push him away. The movement caused the barrel of the blaster the Zabrack had concentrated on her to crunch and fold in on itself. When he pulled the trigger, Loske turned her head and wrestled to bring her arms up to cover her face and twist down to look at the ground. The discharge he'd hoped to shoot her with raced backwards, seared his hands and arm all the way up to his elbow while the rest of the metal folded away from his grip.

He cried out in anguish, using his good hand to grasp his wretch of an arm in disbelief. The weapon was carelessly discarded and clattered to the side while he backed away on his knees.

She used this opportunity to scramble away from him, pulling herself up to stand a good distance. She didn't align herself with Djorn straightaway, but she was closer to him than any of the other options.

Light eyes flitted about the crowds, who seemed less interested in joining in given the death count Djorn had accumulated.

"Seemed a little coincidental.." she murmured by way of explanation.

 

[Djorn Bline]

That was very impressive to see Loske do that little Jedi trick with the blaster. A bit crude, but effective. Some would speculate and come to conclusion the blaster was a bit faulty or wasn’t properly maintained, and that luck was on Loske’s side for the blaster to backfire on its user. Djorn, however, knew too well it wasn’t luck that saved Loske.

That neutralized the Zabrak in a pacifist manner, too peaceful for his taste. The Rodian? Several blasters filled his chest, and plenty of holes to fill.

Djorn took a few steps to be near the Jedi Pilot, a frown at Loske’s words.

“Coincidental? You thought....woah, you thought I was with them? Why would I do that?” he didn’t blurt out he wouldn’t betray Loske over a bounty cause that would just be begging for everyone to pull their blasters on them.

“I wouldn’t betray you, you know,” lie; he lost count. “And...what the hell?”he exclaimed at the small bruise on her cheek from the punch. “You good?” and dared to lift a hand midway to check only to stop before going any further.

“Looks like they didn’t get their ten minutes, guess they could’ve used some practice,” a half hearted joke, “come on, let’s get going, hopefully you can still play on stage with that little mark.”

They weren’t bothered again from the crowd; if a group couldn’t wound them, why bother and end up like them? More cantinas that entertained their patrons with exotic dancers and harlots came to view, all of them competing with their neighbor next door.

“This is the place,” and before them was a club full of vices. Spice, women, money, drinks, and the likes. “This isn’t like Bespin, that was child’s play,” and he reached down for her hand, trying to keep his cheeks from turning even a little red. “Just roll with it, I can’t afford, uh...more trouble,” more like he couldn’t afford her getting another punch.