First Reply [when] your middle name is danger

[Damian du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Location: [REDACTED], Cinnegar, Empress Teta

Damian pressed his head into his hands, the bar his elbows rested on was empty. The booths that watched the entrance and emergency exit had several occupants. Their presence was quite obvious if they had the bartender’s point of view, but even the elder human had a hint of vigilance. The only person who at all appeared like an average bar clientele was the young Du Couteau heir, who currently continued to cradle his head in his hands.

Today had not been quite agreeable, less so than most and more aggressively un-agreeable than other days. The Alliance being forced out of the Tetan system sent shockwaves across the planet, and Damian could only brace the tumbling house of cards for so long. He was forced to watch the cards fall where they may; either Imperial Security cell or shot at by Stormtrooper patrols. The lucky ones. Damian shivered when he thought about the remnants of former Maw zealots kicking around. War Hounds. The mere words in his mind sent another chill down his spine, the whole war against the Empire brought a sense of tragedy.

And now? I have to go back out there and scope out a new Safe house. . . reestablish contact with a Resistance Cell gone dark and-and-and. . . Damian nearly allowed himself to drown in his own self-pity. Proper sleep was near impossible and the bags beneath his eyes only served to highlight that point clearly to everyone with eyes. Invade me one time shame on you, invade two times well. . . we got to start throwing dirt in your eyes.

Damian straightened his back and rubbed his face, his hands attempting to massage the sleep deprivation away.

“If another ten minutes passes and nothing; I’m calling it,” He mumbled in his normal monotone voice, if not with a bit more volume than usual. His hand grabbing a glass and took a quick sip. Perhaps the elderly bartender took some sort of pity and gave Damian quite a stimulating drink. I guess I won’t be needing that recaf.

With a weary sigh he breathed into his hands Damian readied himself for disappointment. “-Let’s get the exit prepped all the same and I’ll go lean. When I finish up with the realtor I'll send a simple message.” He stood up to finally get blood moving in his legs, and while Damian would wait for a while more, he wasn’t expecting a miracle unless he went out there and made one.
​

OOC: Just a small/quick set-up in a post-invasion Empress Teta and doing a small runner for Alliance Resistance Cells. Any questions please feel more than welcome to message me!​

 

[Tibera Jessen]

Tibera rarely ever visited the core of the galaxy, and when she did, it was all business. There were a medley of ways she could go about reaching the resistance on Empress Teta, this was probably the least subtle way. Word on the street was the resistance often met in one of the bars on Cinnagar, a local dive spot no one really went to. With a quick kick she knocked the door open, the helmet off of her armor and a weapon's case slung over her shoulder.

The burned woman held a toothpick in her teeth as she scanned the bar, the hell was the resistance? A couple of the patrons shifted in their seats, perhaps trying to fumble for their weapons, or just terrified by Tibera's standoffish entrance. "Stick in the booth you geezers, I'm not here to make trouble, not for you at least." She said before stomping her way deeper in.

"Ya know for a Senator you've got lousy information security. It's almost like you want people to find you." A bit of a cruel joke given the very serious state of the planet around them. The Dark Empire could easily raid this place at any time, and here she was making light of that fact. But that was how Tibera was, never taking the danger around her seriously. A somewhat disrepectful coping mechanism she'd picked up in her life.

"From what I hear your little posse needs some skilled gunners. Open up the coffers and I'll be yours, if you don't mind making a deal of course." It was a bad deal no matter how it was sliced. Rely on the word of a mercenary, or wait until some vigilante hero showed up with equal skill. The trouble was time, how long did the planet truly have to wait?

Damian du Couteau

 

[Damian du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Location: [REDACTED], Cinnegar, Empress Teta

The loud bang of doors being opened suddenly had the young Du Couteau heir turn around, the security agents nearby the entrance were readying themselves. He looked at the impressive stature of the armoured figure and with a quick glance back to the bartender Damian shook his head once. Hardly the first impression he had expected but thankfully far from the worst that he had feared.

Gesturing for the mercenary to head over to the bar with a quick head nod, Damian sat back down and held his drink close. “-The only thing liquid here is the drinks unfortunately.” He admitted wearily.

“But my coffers outside the system are another matter,” He explained, whatever the price was Damian felt confident he could easily match it. “-Unless you accept military tech and of course you can keep whatever you find on Dark Empire troops.” He added, raising an inquisitive eyebrow as his crimson irises searched the green eyes of the mercenary. Soldiers of fortune tended to vary in quality, and Damian intended to figure out if he could trust this one.

“Apologies, my name is Damian Du Couteau, you can call me Damian instead of Senator.” He bowed his head in respect, Tetan Noble customs not as reflexively as Damian had liked. “-If I could have the honour of knowing your name. . . including the name and size of your private military outfit.” Damian wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, so it stood to reason that miracles also operated under similar logic. If miracles were that obvious there wouldn't be so many non-believers I guess.
​

|| Tibera Jessen ||​

 

[Tibera Jessen]

That wasn't a good start, low funds and a lot of questions. Questions, or rather the answers to those questions, were often bad for business. Namely the question of what outfit she repped, there were two answers to that, and neither was good for her. Still, she walked up to the bar with a confident look on her face. She wasn't sure about all of these bows and noble tradition, that was for someone far classier than her.

"Name's Tibera Jessen... and as far as my outfit goes, I'm it Damian. Officially I'm a freelancer. Now I do have contacts all over the place, you're not going to like them though..." She hadn't even started the job yet and it already looked dog ugly. Once she got to the bar, she looked at what was on offer. Seemed like she was going to at least get some decent drinks. "Best wine you got, and leave the bottle."

When the bartender came around Tibera dropped a few silver-looking discs on the counter. Imperial credits, a clear sign of who the mercenary had been previously employed by. Not the Dark Empire, but an Empire of a different sort. The lost were a strange group outside of their own borders of space. So it would be interesting to say the least how Damian might react to it.

"I have mostly been working with The Lost and a few of their allies. I know some heavy hitters in the Outer Rim as well. But for the most part, I'm all you're getting. If nothing else that'll be enough to do some damage locally. Not to big myself up too much, but I'm no stranger to bad odds."

It's true that Tibera had faced some powerful enemies in the past, but this was different. It was fighting a fully fledged military state that had the power to win battles against the biggest army in the Galaxy. Not that the merc minded, she was more than happy to throw herself at danger. She was possibly crazy, but maybe that was a selling point?

Damian du Couteau

 

[Damian du Couteau]

Damian nodded as Tibera introduced herself, and kept the mental note that this was a singular unit. Not that he expected an entire battalion, but lone-wolf soldiers of fortune were somewhat unique. Especially when you consider I’m not in what could be considered a standard battlefield. The stakes were rather high and fighting for the group using guerrilla and small rebel cell tactics was quite a dangerous line of work. But at least Damian figured he could at least afford a single mercenary.

“Quite the varied work experience,” Damian responded. He knew what to expect when hiring mercenaries, loyalty based on contract was perfectly fine. The Mandalorians were quick to turn allies after a while, honor, duty and loyalty is such a strange concept.

“Well we aren’t looking for martyrs for suicide missions, instead the work will be cloak and dagger.” Damian began to explain, he finished his drink and gestured for the agents near the back exit to begin moving out.

“-But that doesn’t mean the dagger won’t pack a punch and the cloak without protection. . . So the main job will be removing a particular Imperial partisan Noble. Their home is quite the heavily defended castle so we’ll be luring them out.” Damian explained quickly.

"-But before I continue. . ."

Damian handed a data-slate towards Tibera and nodded once, “-State your price and do keep this in mind, once the Alliance recaptures the system I will pay the same amount again as my gratitude to you and your effort.” He added.
​

|| Tibera Jessen ||​