What A Day, So Far (Open Cantina)

[King]

Bins and empty crates littered the busy alleyways and streets of lower Coruscant. Neon lights flashed and buzzed away illuminating the hive of people that roamed, all doing their best to survive the chaotic lower levels of the city planet. ​

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Two sets of footsteps echoed down a dull side street. It was covered in food waste, vomit, shattered glass and other kinds of rubbish. Clearly a dump to the cantina and club either side. The first set of footsteps slid to a halt, a building blocking their path, a dead end. A Barabel spun on its heels to face its chaser. ​

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​King finally caught up to his target, he had chased this thing through back alleys and side streets for what felt like days. The flashing lights, sounds and smells all blurring into one haze of a thought. The only thing he had had his attention on was the creature he tracked. Now here it was standing at full height in front of him. Sharp claws dangling by its side. Yellow eyes seemed to glow from their sockets, red scales surrounding them.

King had always been a large man, being a clone created to fight for the Republic, standing and 6'5. But even be felt small compared to this creature, He still wore his Phase II armour and had his trusty DG-29 blaster pistol, flicked it to stun and pointed it at the Barabel.

"Alright Vivara put those hands up. It's over so make this one easy for me." King said as the stare down began. His HUD alerted him to the movements of those around them. Slowly the homeless people began to head out of the alleyway not wanting to get involved.

"Didn't think you would keep up with me." Vivara said, his clawed hands searching his hip for his blaster, only to remember dropping it the first time he encountered King. "You don't really leave me much choice."

Vivara dived down onto all fours and began to charge King. An electronic pulse left King's blasted the blue ring flew towards Vivara and dissipated on the creature.

A memory rushed through King's brain, a mere voice on the wind. "An' don't even bloody well think about trying' to stun those overgrown lizards, their scales are too damned thick!" The voice of his old mentor.

"Blasted lizard!" Kings thumb quickly switched the blaster back into its normal mode and let of two rounds each one find home. Vivara slid across the moist ground stopping at King's foot. ​"Woulda' preferred to take you alive." King open his hololink and contacted a shrouded figure. ​"Got the shorttail. Transfer those credits." As quick as it appeared it was gone.

King used the back entry into the cantina, just the usual dank, musky cantina. A central bar, tables surrounding it. Off to the side through a corridor King noticed the gambling tables. But for now it was time for a drink.

 

[James Justice]

James had fought and won a thousand times. He had fought and lost ten thousand more. James had learned either way, you get paid a pretty sum. He stared down at the glass on the counter. His dark eyes flickered at it. The pain in his body had ebbed away thanks to the sweet liquor that was beginning to fill his blood stream. The doctor's prognosis had been--well, it was grim. And not long after his warning about the alcohol had followed, not that it mattered much at this point anymore. They both knew that, even as the words were leaving the man's lips. You could have two livers, but downing bottles of the stuff didn't help much.

A sad smile crossed his lips. Who knew that after all he had been through, all the murder, all the death, all the explosions--he would go down like this? If only Miss Blonde could have seen him now. What would Anara think? Or his children? God alone knew where they were.

A hulking beast of a man, if they could even be called that when they were that tall, came and sat beside James. Damn, what are they putting in the milk these days? He gave the younger man a nod. Judging by his armor and the way he handled himself, James could guess he was one of the clones. Who's army and who's war he was born in a vat to fight was anyone's guess. Hell, he could have even been one of James' super soldiers for all he knew.

The spacer gave him a nod. He could detect the faint hint of burnt ozone coming off him. "Lucky day huntin' today, mate?"

[member="King"]

 

[Marcus Bishop]

Courscant, Level 1517
Late

The cool back room air of the small courscantii den he was in, is what he think woke him up. It had been a long few months, Bishop was taking any bounty left and right. And in the wake of the conflict in the Mandalore section?- plenty of people wanted each other dead. It was after a particularly large bounty in the core worlds, that he decided to celebrate.

Such celebration left him passed out, seated at a table in the back party room- of a courscant dorm hall for troubled Twi'leks.
On his left arm, a small red button flashed. His stupor didn't even let him hear it, until a gust of cold air shot him to awareness. Bishop shot upright in his chair, nearly tipping it back over. He grabbed the table, rubbing his pounding head. He pressed the button.

["Sir?"] the warped voice of a protocal droid sounded from the gauntlet.
"yes....?" Bishop asked, favoring the headache he now sported.
["The crew at the shipyard says the repairs are estimated to take up to 3.4 more hours..."].

Great. Just what he needed; to be stuck on Courscant with too much money to spend.

"Keep eyes on the ship...",

["Where will you be, Sir?"].

"Around...". Around he was, he remembers collecting himself, his armor was all on him and surprisingly clean, mostly because the amount of passed out courscantii youth through out the dorm hall made him wonder how did he get here. He saw smashed mirrors, a painting that had someone's head shoved through it. Did he get into a fight? If so, he must've did well. He stopped infront of a tall mirror, inspecting his gear. His suit was that of the iconic, old school mandalorian bounty hunters of old. A black kama on his waist, complementing the black and red paint linings of his armor.

In this day and age, they were dying out. Too rich, too old, too in love to care about contract hunting,
Except him. Thirty six years old, and still finding himself just short of retirement.

He collected himself and wandered the halls of the underworld that he once called him. In a distant past, in a distant life, he was a street urchin, small, scared, fighting for scraps of rations with kid's whos parents could literally bite his arm off. Three decades later, he found himself wandering the same roads again, this time, literally cloaked and covered in the wealth and success he had gained.

He found himself outside of a Cantina, a small joint, he believe he remembered the owner's brother's cousins' second breeding partner.
He believed.

A homeless man slammed into his side, either through the fact he towered over him, or maybe it was the drunken courage, the man literally bounced off. He turned his head, the man's fear stricken face reflected back at him in Bishop's visor. Speechless, he scrambled and ran off, along with several others. Bishop peered down the alley way they came from.

"You don't really leave me much choice"
A large reptilian creature said through it's raspy, scale lined voice-
as it then got on all fours and charged an armed man in armor.

Bishop shook his head as the sound of two bolts rang out through the alley, the screams of homeless and urchins ringing in his ears as he pushed through the front door. 'No wonder galactic life expectancy is down....'.

He took a step into the cantina, several people were already shaken up by the sounds of fighting and blaster fire from outside. As soon as he stepped in, eyes were immediately drawn on him. He walked over to the bar counter, his helmet hissed as the seal was broken, he set it down on the counter with a had CLANK.

Bishop's hands shot to his forehead, running a hand through his hair.
"Give me some red jamba..... for the love of kriff....". The Bartender eyed him up and down, pouring a red liquid into a glass from a hose.

The man from the alleyway walked in, he noticed the man eyeing up some of the gambling tables near the center of the cantina.
'About to blow the bounty he just got.... man from my own heart' Bishop snickered at his own quip as he sat back, taking a drink. One of the monitors displayed news about the conflict in Mandalorian Space, The Silver Jedi, and the all around narfed state the galaxy was in.

"Lucky day huntin' today, mate?" a man a couple of seats down from Bishop said to the hunter who just walked in. He was a business type, if he didn't know any better, he'd say he was an info shark or a credit swindler. But if he was on this level, he had a lot more under the surface,.

Bishop took a sip from the red jamba,
"You're gonna want to scrape that lizard corpse from the alley, COURSEC's been real stupid about 'waste disposal' nowadays...".

King James Justicehttp://starwarsrp.net/user/9552-james-justice/