Log:Hutt Cartel: A Challenger Appears

A Challenger Appears

OOC Date: July 5, 2018 (Optional)
Location: Sweatshop
Participants: Myra Bale (who cleaned this log <3), Quentin Haslett, Ryo Odessa with Usha as the GM

The SWEATSHOP! The air is thick and smells of interspecies musk, sweet cigarra smoke, a dusting of spice, and sometimes even blood. Small crowds of people gather here and there. Some are crowded around a game of Sabaac, other laugh loudly around the bar, but it seems most are here for a cage match in the center of the venue where two Codru-Jis are pitted against each other. Someone somewhere did the market research and insisted that there was a prevalent enough hand fetish on Nar Shaddaa where this would make a killing. And they were wrong. For the Sweatshops are neither more or less busy than usual, even if they've cut the drinks to half price for the evening. Still, there's enough violence and vices to entertain.

Who should be here but Myra Bale, a tiny woman with a giant smile and a rather ordinary outfit? She's sat at the bar with four shots of whiskey set out in front of her, although none of them have been touched, chatting up a very drunk Snivvian. "Well, darling, if you're buying I can hardly refuse, can I? It just wouldn't be right, really it wouldn't, to turn down such generosity. It's ever so kind of you, you're such a gentleman, I've always said, 'a real gentleman isn't afraid to buy his lady a few drinks,' and you're not afraid, are you? No, of course not, you're terribly generous."

"Fuhnnother for the girllll," the Snivvian snuffles, while Myra smiles a large, wooden smile at the bartender, wide eyes staring unblinking at the row in front of her and then at the bartender, begging him with her gaze not to pour that shot. But, after a shrug, another glass is thumped down and another shot filled up while the (small) crowd cheers for the fight behind them.

"Wonderful," Myra remarks with a vacant blink.

Now what's a nice guy like Quentin doing in a place like this? Not drinking, that's for sure. He was way too fond of drugging people with experimental pathogens via drinks from the bar to actually trust any drink put in front of him that didn't come from a sterile container. He was at the far end of the bar, eyeing the impending chaos that was about to take place featuring one (1) Myra Bale. Myra, Myra, Myra, has anyone ever told you not to associate with the peasantry? Clearly not. And Quentin wasn't about to tell her. Partially because he couldn't be bothered, partially because the end result would teach her a valuable lesson.

Ordinary outfits!? No thanks! Sitting at one of the Sabacc games is Ryo Odessa, wearing his orange and black nexu-print, silk shirt, his red blazer, and his black leather pants.

"Better luck next time, I guess," the Festian remarks to his opponent, scooping a pile of credits toward himself before flashing a wink and standing up. He tucks the credits into his pockets and wanders toward the bar, ending up next to Myra. A greeting is offered to her in Ryl before he orders some delicious, fruity concoction to sip on.

The Codru-Jis stretch and flex each of their four arms in preparation for the bout, while a greater crowd grows just outside the bard of their cage. A bell DINGS, and they get to it, starting off cautiously by circling each other around the ring. It's real boring, and a drunk audience member takes it upon himself to bang on the bars and yell, "COME ON GET GOING ALREADY. I WANNA SEE SOME HAND ACTION." Hmmm ... maybe that market researcher wasn't so off their game after all. Others in the crowd seem to concur with the first guy, for they too start chanting, "HAND ACTION. HAND ACTION. HAND ACTION." And giving the good people what they want, on Codru-Ji lunges at the other and lands a double right hook to the gut. The Sweatshop starts going wild!

Myra does not speak Ryl, but she does speak the language that this Snivvian's wallet is speaking, and it's not a good message. "Oh, gracious me, imagine meeting you here! Frightfully large coincidence, really it is," she hastily flusters out, eyes shooting wide as Ryo settles in next to her and dainty hands reach out to grab at his arm, attempting to pull him close to her and show him off to the Snivvian fellow. "Oh, ehm, my good Snivvian fellow, yes, you've been just -terribly- wondrous, really you have, but it seems my ehm, my sponsor is here! Mister..." Green eyes blink rapidly, trying to invent a good name. "Mister Blister! Yes, Mister Blister is my -sponsor- and he'd just be devastated if I were to drink any of these drinks, I'm a recovering addict you see, a long story, I promise you, very long, so I regret to tell you that while I appreciate your kindness I must refuse." She's too distracted by using Ryo to fend off the Snivvian's advances to notice anything going on near the cagefight.

Quentin Haslett's ears pricked as something crossed them. His eyes, terrible though they may be because Hapan and low light, gazed towards the bathroom where he heard the sound, but didn't see anything. But that sound said to him that either one of two things were happening. One, two individuals of poor personal integrity, terrible hygeine, and atrocious judgment were engaging in fornication behind those closed doors for some absolutely unfathomable and truly horrific reason. And one had fallen off their perch. Disgusting. Two, two individuals of poor personal integrity, terrible hygeine, and atrocious judgment were engaging in fisticuffs for over some presumed slight, possibly involving fornication. Also disgusting. Quentin Haslett, being Quentin Haslett, paid it no mind.

"It's Doctor Blister," remarks Ryo, correcting the lady that's grabbed his arm. "Doctor Jett Blister," he introduces himself to the Snivvian. "And yes, she can't handle her sauce, but if you want to buy /me/ a drink, I won't fight you," he says with a grin.

Adrenaline now pumping Codru-Ji A takes the hit in stride, but is knocked back a few steps by Codru-Ji B. He wastes no time retaliating, coming right back by slamming his body weight against his kin, forcing the two of them to slam against the bars. The cage shakes as does the crowd with excitement as the fight begins to pickup. Stoked by the audience, the two Codru-Ji's wrestle for a the dominating position, arms tangling with other arms, tangling with legs, tangling with hair. Together they form a sweaty knot, while audience members yell unsolicited advice on how to get the upper hand at them.

"Why, how wonderful, there's at least five shots here already," Myra coos to Ryo and the Snivvian both, tugging the man closer to her while she slips from the stool at the same time, intent on putting him into her seat next to the generous, drunken Snivvian and distance herself from both of them. "Wonderful, wonderful, really it is, you'll love mister- oh my." Stooping down, she plucks up a chunk of something flexible from the floor, turning it over in her tiny pale fingers, traces of red left behind. Giving it a wiggle, her eyes widen at the way it wobbles, and after a quick glance at the floor, she starts hurrying along on quick feet, eyes down.

"Hrmmmm," was the low hum from Doctor Q as, somehow, he noticed a splash of red in the sea of brown. How his eyes were working in this dim light was a miracle. "Curious." He stooped over and looked closer, and refrained from doing the old taste-test because that was foul and disgusting and unhygenic. Quentin gave people diseases. He didn't receive them. Perhaps it was neither fornication nor fisticuffs. He followed the trail to the refresher door, looked at it, and let out an, "Ugh." He was going to have to go in here. And so, with trepidation of how horrifically dirty it would be inside, he pushed the door open.

It's quite an exciting struggle. With Codru-Ji A nearly getting all his limbs pinned down by Codru-Ji B. But one straggler arm frees itself, slapping up against B's face to hook some fingers in his nostrils and painfully pull him off. The crowd loves the anguish and cheer, "PUUULLLL. PUULLLLL." Codru-Ji B is shoved back and immediately after A jumps atop of him delivering a series of blows from all four arms. The audience SCREAMS with delight.

"Hand action!" Myra chirps distractedly while she's following her little trail of blood along the floor here, spotting some black fur sprinkled in along the path. Picking it up between pink-painted nails confirms that it is indeed fur, or someone with very rough hair. "Curious and curiouser, really it is," she mumbles to herself as she muses over the findings here, pulling out a delicate pink handkerchief and shaking it out to deposit the tongue inside, folding the hankie neatly around it.

The refresher looked like a crime scene. Someone had failed to CLEAN. Q's nose wrinkled in disgust. Profound disgust. It was dirty. Very dirty. The man stepped carefully, for these were three hundred credit shoes and they were not to be soiled. The blood-stain on the floor blended in so well that it might as well be decor, such was the state of this bathroom. And it led to the end. "And behind door number three lies our suitor," the doctor joked quietly, pushing the stall open.

Behind the door lay a Houk. He was dead. So dead that Q could have rolled at a difficulty of 1 and still figured that out. Rather than look alarmed, scared, or disgusted, he regarded the corpse with interest. A fisticuffs would have been boring. Fornication would have been disasterous. But this suddenly got interesting. "Sans eyes, sans tongue. A gangland killing," he observed, and assumed. He patted the man's clothes, looking for something identifying, but couldn't find anything like pockets. Damn. All this man was good for was organs.

"Eeeew," Ryo remarks to himself, looking down at the chunk of furry ear laying on the ground. He crinkles his nose and takes a long sip from his rum, continuing to follow behind Myra. There's some saying about curiousity and its effects on cats, but Ryo's never heard it.

After taking a few hits Codru-Ji B manages to block a few punches before clearing a path for his head. Without a thought, B slams his forehead into Codru-Ji A's face, drawing first blood and making the drunk crowd go wild. Fighter A yelps in pain, clutching his face and retreating while B gets himself up and begins to climb the bars of the cage. "CLIMB CLIMB CLIMB," the audience chants, holding their breath to see what these turn of events will bring.

Following along the trail Myra goes, in her small, quick pace, mousy eyes kept down towards the floor as she hurries towards wherever it might lead. "Goodness me, whatever will I find? Who could be losing all this blood and fur? If only I knew the answers, really I wish that I did," she murmurs to herself, for Myra could never be silent for long, even in her own company. Dithering away like this, she continues until the trail begins to wane and up past the end of it she spies a small figure, hooded and reaching for a stranger's drink. "Hello there!" she chirps brightly at the hooded figure, hurrying forward with a large, toothy smile that takes up half of her face. "Whatever might you be doing over here? I don't believe we've met."

For some unfathomable reason Q had a vial on his person. With a tiny little plastic rod he carried with him, he scraped a bit of the blood from the Houk and put it into the vial. Then he held it up to the light. "Far be it from me to assume, but this is not Houk blood." He turned back to the corpse and noted he only had about five minutes before the organs were off. Drat. It took half an hour to cut them out of Houk. Wait a moment.

"Hrmmmm. Eyes haven't been cut, they've been gouged," he mused. Then he pulled a single-use glove from his pocket and put it on, because hygeine, and opened the mouth up more. "And the tongue has been removed by teeth. Someone was hungry."

DRUGS. Ryo's head tilts as something catches his eye. "Huh," he says, moving to kneel down. He plucks up a duo of syringes; one green, one blue. Looking them over, he pops out the cannisters and tucks them into his breast pocket. His eyes dart around as he stands back up.

Codru-Ji B continues his ascent up to the top of the cage with the encouragement of the audience. Shaking his head back into focus, Codru-Ji A looks up at his kin and follows in pursuit, using all six of his limbs to meet his opponent quickly at the top. Thrilled, the crowd begins to shake the cage, making things even more precarious for the fighters. Continuing their fight on shakier grounds, the fighters meet in the middle at the apex of the cage. Once again, cautiously sizing each other up while getting used to being upside down.

The small hooded figure pauses mid-reach to turn to Myra. Its eyes are blood red, its fur an feral black. Angry to be disrupted from its attempt to steal a drink, this little Kushiban hisses at the blonde, baring its sharp teeth before lunging at her to try and sink those pearly whites into her skin.

"Ow! Why, you little shit!" Myra curses primly, jerking back away from the Kushiban as its tiny rodent-like fangs sink into her eczema-afflicted hand, dry skin breaking and letting some of her own blood bloom up red onto the pale background. "I'm afraid I can't let this go unanswered, really I can't, you've forced my hand," the little woman titters, producing from under her ordinary coat a pair of massive shooting irons, modified Bryars bigger than her small, platinum-haired head, and leveling them on the other creature with deadly intent. Boom boom! The blasters spit hot bolts of yellow, one fat streak of plasma smacking hard into the smaller creature's body with a gout of quick-lived flame.

"Gracious. A girl could get used to these," she mutters to herself, smiling broadly down at the ridiculously large pistols in her small, flaky hands. "...I really must try a different lotion."

There was of course another trail. Q felt like a character out of an old detective novel. The floors were stained like a fat man's shirt at an all you could eat buffet, and stank just as bad. Blood. Fitting. This poor guy had lost enough of it. There was something else, the sweet sort of scent that reminded Quentin of a summer afternoon on Coruscant, near the Space-Cream stand. Sickly sweet. And off. It smelt like death. He followed the trail to the next stall, predicting chaos, and chaos is what he got. Yellow. Biological? No. Biological smelt like ammonia and tears. This was the cause. And there was the dispenser. He knelt down and regarded the syringe on the floor. A small thing, it hid there like a frightened mouse being stalked like a cat, knowing it was running out of time. "I have you now," said Quentin, his voice quiet and full of menace. He retrieved the syringe carefully, as though it were a temperamental grenade. No taking chances.

Not paying any attention to Myra, Ryo slips into the bathroom and spots the dead Houk. "Huh. Gross," says the gambler who's way more used to seeing dead bodies than he probably should be. He spies Quentin and points to the body, asking, "This your handiwork?" Spotting the syringe in the man's hand, Ryo slips them out of his own pocket and holds them up, asking, "We got a matching pair?"

The sound of Myra's blasters going off grabs the attention of most everyone in the room, including the fighters who take a glance over to where the shots came from. Ever the focused professional, Cod-A takes the opportunity to pounce on Cod-B like a panther, causing him to lose his grip on the cage and both go falling down back into the ground. The attention to Myra doesn't seem to stick since the audience catches the epic move and howls out like a rabid pack of animals as the fight continues.

Having gotten a taste of the gangster's dry ass saltine hands, the Kushiban gets blasted back by the shot. It lays completely still on the floor, clearly not able to get up again. It is not immediately obvious that the alien is dead. Thus someone casually scolds Myra, "Hey! No blasters! Either take your fight into a ring or take it outside!"

With the practiced grace of someone who shoots down small furry people on a regular basis, Myra nudges the Kushiban onto its back with the toe of her flats, being careful not to let the bow on the top of her shoe touch the thing's body for fear of getting blood on the satin. A quick rifle through the pockets reveals nothing of note, but when she shoves it over with a ladylike grunt of exertion, something that sounds more like a squeak, and looks for any identifying marks. "Hmm... nothing in your pockets, terribly unfortunate, perhaps that's why you were stealing drinks. Were you a guttersnipe like me, you adorable dead sweetheart? Terribly tragic, my heart bleeds for you, really it does," mumbling away to the corpse. A finger pokes at a strange hairless spot at the nape of the neck, and a brand seared there. "Hmm. I'm not familiar with this one. But I'm sure someone will be." Producing an emery board that doubles as a knife, the nicest gangster expertly peels the patch of skin away, adding it to her hankie-pack of tongue and fur.

Quentin Haslett glanced dismissively at the gambler, looking at the syringe in his hand, and said, "Not a match, a counterpart. You hold in your hands an antidote, a simple catch-all that any idiot can make in a bathtub." Nice. He turned and pointed to the yellow non-bio stain on the ground. "This is far more dangerous, and I'm not sure what to make of it." He kneeled down, making a face of distaste, and spooned a little into a second vial on his person. Is he always equipped to deal with chemical analysis?! "I heard blaster-fire, which means our perpetrator is nearby. Be a good man and go and see what the fuss is about."

"Huh," Ryo remarked, looking his syringes over. Tucking them back into his coat, he slaps the door control, causing it to whisk open. Peeking outside he says, "Looks like a tiny lady shot a rat in a dress," he says flatly. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Codru-Ji A falls on top of B, leaving the latter to absorb most of the shock of the fall. It causes a significant amount of damage, and B barely has it in him to fight back any longer. So once again, Codru-Ji A punishes him with more hits. Sensing the climax of the fight, the room grows even wilder with cries to "FINISH HIM" or "MORE HAND ACTION!"

"Hand action!" Myra calls again when the crowd roars it, unceremoniously scooping up the Kushiban corpse and tottering towards the door where she recognizes that tall glass of cool water she likes to call "Doctorrrr! I've got the most wonderful present for you, really I do, you're going to be terribly delighted with what I've found. It's a body, I know how much you mad scientist types like to play around with harvesting them, just terrific fun, I'm sure," she coos at him, mincing around a cheering aspirant who gets too close to deposit the body in front of him in a heap, stepping back to wipe her hands together, a few flakes of dead skin floating to the floor. "I may have had something to do with them ending up this way but in a cosmic sense didn't we all? I think you'll find that we did." And a bright smile for the doctor, green eyes squeezing narrow to squint up at him with something like murderous glee.

"Hm. Yes." Look at that. That was the greatest appreciation the Hapan doctor was ever going to give. He examined the body closely, grabbing its mouth and opening it, and noting on the teeth that there was, "Flesh. Clearly we have the assailant. Look." He pointed into the Kushiban's mouth, revealing a tiny little bit of tongue flesh. "And," he pointed out on its skin some purple veins, thicker than normal, "you see, its under the influence of a combat stim. A very, VERY powerful one." It looked like their Zeltron friend had been outperformed in the combat drug department. "You will find a dead Houk in the bathroom. See to it, please." What did he mean? Clean it up? Have it frozen for storage? Eat it? Have a looksee? Who knew?

"See to it?" Myra repeats dumbly, staring up at doctor like what he's said just does not process. "See to it how, darling? I'm more than capable of seeing a dead Houk but I'm not about to 'to it', I'm terribly sorry to say, that you'll have to 'to it' yourself, but I'm sure you can manage, really I am, I mean, you found the thing, didn't you? Of course you did!" A sweet smile for him, reaching forward to pat his sleeve. "A big strong fellow like you, I'm sure it will be no problem at all, frightfully simple. My mother always said, 'Myra, a man who can't see to his business isn't a man at all,' yes she did, and I've always thought that was a very wise saying, don't you, doctor? I'll leave you to see to it, then, I'm sure you're very busy and I don't want to hold you up," she chatters away, spitting words out like a machine gun before she abruptly turns and bustles for the door.

"ugh," said Quentin, not even having the energy to capitalize the grunt properly. He continued to examine the dead Kushiban in silence, trying to block out Myra Bale's incessant nattering, until.... "Will you cease your blathering! Please! Thank you!" He was trying to do SCIENCE here! Oh she was gone. Wonderful. TIME TO EXPERIMENT.