Far away from his home, Ulysses slides into a chair at a local bar on Ominov, a bureaucrats heaven of scum and scandal. Ominov has often been a political safe haven for those which no other system will allow to run, from criminal bosses, wanted criminals and bounty hunters the same. Here, on Ominov, Ulysses had come to blow of some steam, and by steam, he meant a killing spree of a contract for a local biker gang.
The gang was a ruffian group, a trandoshan, the leader, named Ikks Byz. Large in stature, but the undisputed, brutal, thieving leader that brought together the biker group, the "Sundials." Second in command was Pretch Gathe, a Rodian technician with a hunger for slaving, and spice trading, part of the reason Ulysses was on this contract, the boss didn't want someone selling spice on his turf without kickback wasn't allowed.
This bar in particular, Club 57, a 3rd floor club run by a small sect of the Hutt cartel, was here because spice was normally sold here by a local dealer, Pluyy Reu, a human who ran the spice for his friend, Pretch. Spice had ruined his brain, so finding him was easy, the stumbling, bumbling, drunken idiot, bumping all of the casino tables in the bar. Gambling on Ominov was largely accepted, from live fighting, to death matches, and even sabacc. Ulysses never gambled, so this place was just the best place to find the scum he was always looking for.
Pluyy kept stumbling, boot over boot towards a red lit room, door flanked by two angry looking Duros with blasters in hand. As he approached, a toydarian flutters out, data pad in hand to grab Pluyy. Silk laden, red lipstick, and white pearls, this toydarian meant business, and it didn't look like Pluyy wanted any of what she was selling. Passing the threshold, the door slams shut, as he's pushed to the floor.
Ulysses gets up, rifle at the ready, and surveys the room one last time. Crowded bar, loud music, and ruffians all afoot, just as he wanted it.
BOOM
A blaster shot hits the first Duros bodyguard, dropping him instantly. Pushing forwards, Ulysses crouches ever so slightly, adjusts his left hand on the grip, and began blasting forwards.
BOOM BOOM BANG
The second Duros guard hits the ground, gut shot and wing clipped, as Ulysses swiftly moves towards the door, he feels a change in the room.
Jumping forwards towards the now blood soaked door, Ulysses leaned against the balcony ledge, soot from the morning cigar from the two Duros most likely. Shots began to ring above him, as chips of paint, soot, and dust fly around, coating the room in a distinct odor of murder. As the shots slowed, he took his chance, and threw his final thermal detonator over his shoulder, towards the left wall, which led to a immediate drop down over three hundred feet.
Footsteps began to move away from the detonator, as he positioned himself in such a way, he was ready to unload.
BZZZZTTTTTTT
Ulysses rifle rang out like it hadn't in many moons. Unaltered, unforgiving, live fire down a hall way, as commandos broke the corner, taking blaster rounds so fast they couldn't even react. Death Watch had taught him one thing, and one thing especially. People don't want to die, so they'll herd together, and what do wolves to do hers?
Eat them.
