Log:Keep Them Busy
Keep Them Busy
OOC Date: February 7, 2023
Location: Balosar
Participants: B'haav Adasta as ST, Tess Vikander, Hadrix Kora, Amal Jha, Kirana Ryder, Andan Qorbin
It's not quiet in the Basin tonight. It rarely is, though. After dark, one of the few places seeing regular traffic is Vayli's - a tavern of sorts with semi-potable alcohol and surprisingly decent food (for the Basin). Those who have agreed to this particular task were contacted by an R2 unit carrying a small data chit. Inserted into their datapads, the following message is displayed.
<<Vayli's. The Basin, Balosar. Three men will enter, wearing better clothes than the rest of the clientele. The middle-height one with brown eyes will leave first. The tall and short one cannot follow. You'll know when the job is done. Your accounts will be credited. Killing is not advised, and may lead to reduced pay.>>
No music plays over the speakers in the bar, the jukebox having been a casualty of a barfight several years back. Muttered conversations, eating, and drinking are the only soundtrack of this small oasis from the Basin's darkness.
It's not the sort of job a doctor would take, but given that Tess isn't exactly an 'accredited' doctor, it may come as no surprise that she's not exactly raking in the credits. That and the dunes of Tatooine tend to get dull after the first several months where all the days look the same and the nights showcase the same stars and moon. Can a girl be blamed for being drawn to such an innocuous posting? Danger and intrigue are a girl's best friends.
The respirator she bought from the sandcrawler is, in a word, drek. It's doing its best to filter out the pollutants of this planet and while she is able to breathe, Tess can still taste it in her teeth. Inside the tavern is somewhat of a haven. The respirator isn't needed as much but the smell lacks something to be desired. She sits at a table with an untouched glass of brandy tapping her finger and watching the main door with trained indifference.
Reduced pay for lethality.
"Think you can do it?"
<"Shut up, Gripper."> armored head to toe, the pair in Gripper and Hadrix Kora with one other in their party had made their way in, acknowledging the looks Mandalorian armor receives. The big man shifting to internal comms at the standing table he has claimed, a nigh untouched glass of some semi-glowing liquid resting there,
<<"Not like we need the money">>
<<"I suppose there's that too...">> the droid floating at his right shoulder turns to focus her primary optic on the big man, all four claw tipped limbs clicking in unison. Then she moves as if to roll her multiple eyes towards the ceiling as if its going to be 'one of those nights'.
Al'Verde Kora simply remains standing, hands folded before his waist - right hand over left vambrace, watching and pretending to be an overdressed statue.
Business was always good on Balosar. If one were a smuggler who did neither asked, nor cared, what their cargo was being used for or to whom it was bein traded once it left the hold of their ship. And so, the Echani was a more familiar sight than perhaps someone else might have been. The usual pristine white she wore had been replaced with an equally pale, but not quite as incandescent stoned grey, the face mostly obscured by a respirator as she made her way into the bar, finding a seat at a table not far from the door. A pair of fingers lifted to signal service of a double of whatever the bar happened to have on tap. As the big Mandalorian entered, the hand fel, brushing lightly over her front. "eapeadaefa sigh ghevaethie iekoove sae kosa hi hageav ghiethivoow aph tearh ywerhaadif oodimoo ghevaethie oon if erhifierhoo ghevaethie aghooz?" [Language: Echani]
Kirana Ryder had come along in the Woor'Tra with her Al'Verde for her first trip to Balosar. She wasn't typically one to take on jobs such as this. It wasn't a bounty job per se, which was good, because she wasn't a bounty hunter. But jobs like these paid, and if the Al'Verde is going and you didn't have much else to do that day..
She wore a suit of Skyripper armor which denoted her as fairly obviously Mandalorian to those that might recognize such a thing, and wasn't very heavily armed, either. A rigid staff approximately twenty inches long hung across a hardpoint at her back and a fairly common-looking blaster was strapped around a hip holster on her left side.
Bonnie, a B-1 Battle Droid trailed behind her as she, in turn, trailed behind Hadrix. 'Your lungs are going to fry, Ryder!' it said in its modulated, Battle Droid voice.
<"I'll be fine,"> she assures it, rolling her eyes behind her black and purple helmet. <"You said two of them don't leave, right?"> She calls forward to Hadrix, a few steps behind the large man.
Andan is just one of the people in the background. He didn't come here to attack anyone. He came here to fill his stomach, and hopefully not evacuate it a few minutes there-after.
Seated in a corner with his feet up on one chair, and a bowl of something in his hands, the man is dressed like a spacer with a cheap oxygen delivery system helmet resting on the table beside him. He looks greasy, he looks dirty, he looks tired and disinterested in everything going on around him.
Except his bowl of whatever. He's spooning that in to his mouth with a nice happy pace. "Mmmuh." He even utters after another load of the whatever is put in his mouth.
Appraising looks are given to the entrants in shining armor, though some are wise enough to look away quickly and remember what they've heard about those suits. Others are given nods as recurring fixtures. More than a few appraising glances have been sent the doctor's way, as much for the novelty of a human in this bar as anything else.
Customers trickle in, several covered in dirt and grime that seems excessive even for the grime of this forgotten ward of the Balosar capital. They all make for the bar, several shelling out hard-won credits for water, while the wise ones go straight for the strongest alcohol they can get. Three men follow a minute later, with one towering over the rest of the Balosar in Vayli's, while the other is lucky to be shoulder-height on his tip-toes. The best-dressed of the three goes to the bar, setting down credits with a whisper to the bartender. There is a short nod, and small shot glasses are lined up, into which a pale green liquid is poured and placed in front of the dirtiest patrons. They all take the glasses and raise them with tense smiles to the man as he gestures to his table. The bartender nods quickly, and a different bottle is retrieved from a nook out of sight on the top shelf. Three glasses are filled, and one of the waiters is quick to take a tray over to the table in the corner where the well-dressed man has taken his seat.
"We thank you for your continued patr-"
The waiter's words, delivered as the drinks are unloaded onto the table, are cut short as a hand presses against his face - covering nose, mouth, and fingers reaching around eyes. "Just drop them, and go. We have business." And with a nod into the hand, the waiter places the last glass down and backs away. The well-dressed Balosar lowers his hand to the glass in front of him and takes a long sip before leaning forward to the giant and the less-than-giant who had entered the bar with him.
Oh, she can feel the eyes on her. Tess does her best to ignore it; not to look any particular way and catch a crude motion, awkward wink, or hint that somebody in here was getting any ideas. Instead she slowly rings her finger around the rim of her brandy -- forever neglected, that poor booze -- and rests her chin upon her palm. A heavy sigh blows a few strands of pale blonde hair from her face out of sheer boredom. This place is a lot like Tatooine. Right down to the air quality on a bad day. Sandstorms, you know.
When the three men enter, Tess manages to keep herself from sitting upright and looking /too/ interested. She does, however, perk a brow a bit too high than she should and, indeed, is watching the three interact. If one happens to look over, she'll just toss them a sulty wink for fun. Vaguely she can sense the air in the entire room change and she looks around, finally noticing the spacer nearby with a bowl of whatzit. Here she cannot hide a scrunch of her nose. "Brave man."
<<"Aye, tall one and the short one don't. Middle height brown-eyes gets to walk. Lucky Fwit.">> watching and waiting, opting to remain on comms despite the din of the bar, taking note of Amal among the few familiar faces with his head canting slowly to one side. About to say something else, maybe, when the marks come in.
Or at least the presumed to be marks.
<<"If they're still breathing it's non-lethal, right?">> the grin audible even through the distortion of comms. Gaining another 'look' from the droid hovering at his side, <<"What if they're just a -little- on fire?">>
<<"Define a little on fire?">>
<<"Like an arm or a leg.">>
<<"You don't want to be paid, do you?">> The droid reaches out casually to 'tink' the side of Hadrix's helmet, upper torso rotating in lieu of a head to shake at him. But the big man is still watching the trio, gauging and making mental notes. Finally addressing Kirana now, on comms still, <<"When it happens, Hera, the little guy is speed. The larger one... might be someone your mother or I would prefer to dance with. Eyes open and ready.">>
Credits were passed over as the drink was delivered to the echani's table, a hand kept on the glass allowing her fingers to warm the liquid. A perfect excuse for not actually drinking whatever had been put in front of her. In her usual way, Amal studied the room,a s one does in a place like this, making note of both the service staff and the transitory inhabitants.
Kirana, stood near to Hadrix, didn't bother to hide the fact that she was watching the trio as they entered. You expect a Mandalorian to turn and look at who just came in. It would be suspicious if she pretended not to. Bonnie had walked away from her to the other side of the cantina in a silent maneuver the two had coordinated for jobs such as this one. Bonnie would see the trio come in from the other side, its little droid head swivelling around the pub as a whole as its sensors and photoreceptors can key in on certain things without having to look directly at them often-times. Kira had instructed Bonnie to seek out the mid-sized man when three entered together, and so that's what it did.
Holding its blaster rifle down low, the droid's 'gaze' swept across the men and kept on going, as a droid's processors only need a quick second, as well as can review information it had taken in after having looked away. Sensing something, the droid looks across at its Morellian owner. Putting one of its droid hands into the best imitation that it could of a fist, it tapped the fist first to its left hip, then its right, then tapped the fist to its opposite wrist before putting its hand back on its blaster rifle.
It was a very obvious gesture and one that drew an 'ughhh' and a quiet sigh from Kira. <"Droid's got something on middle man,"> she murmurs lowly for Hadrixs' benefit, and by extension, Gripper's. <"Guy's armed, both hips, probably melee. Something on his wrist, too. Didn't have an indicator for what that was. Also the way it helds its rifle - brown eyes. Remind me to get this droid re-programmed.">
Clatter. Jingle. Andan's bowl is dropped on the table devoid of any contents of whatever was in it. The pilot's boots cross at the ankles and he just leans his head back, and closes his eyes. That after-glow of enjoying your first meal in ages rolls over him.
Followed, shortly there-after, by something else.
Andan's eyes open up, his feet drop off of the chair in front of him, and he looks around without actually looking around, then rises up and moves back toward the restrooms. Hey this place has two restrooms, that's surprising for a dive like this. Andan picks the one with a male shaped drawing on the sign, and slips right on inside it...
Exactly three seconds later he slips right back out though, gives another look about, then pushes the ladies door open, peers inside... sees nothing, nobody, and slips on inside it instead... because, wow, huge difference.
The shaken waiter moves back behind the bar before the one who had delivered Amal's drink and heads directly into the back. Several women enter, taking a look about the place before finding a table still open and taking seats, while one begins scanning the crowd at the bar for familiar faces. Another makes for the women's room, hurrying back a moment later without setting foot inside to whisper something to the others, at which point they all begin cackling.
"I don't know why we need to question it," comes a raised note of contention. The giant of a Balosar has a voice much more delicate than his frame would suggest, and one might consider singing a hobby of the man's.
"Look, something like this, it's not something that happens every day," comes the smallest's voice, deeper and edged with the tell-tale rasp of a frequent death-stick consumer. "Maybe it's just a b-"
A fist hitting the table silences both of them, and the well-dressed Balosar leans forward, reaching out to grab both of the others behind the neck and pull them in. Adamant shaking of the head and slow nods shows a conversation continuing at a lower pitch. Moments later, a glass is pushed off the table and the well-dressed man is making for the door, while the other two exchange a look, look to the departing Balosar, then take their glasses and slowly drain them before beginning to rise.
Her comment towwards Andan goes unaddressed, but Tess has decided to chalk that up to the MIGHT NEED that his bowl of whatzit has caused. The young woman smirks hautily to herself. Serves him right for ignoring a lady. In a world such as this, 'brave' is also akin to 'shortsighted' or 'reckless'. All adjectives she can get behind but not quite embrace herself. Not unles she's actively on a mission for her more steady employer. Those are always... interesting.
There goes her mind wandering again, but all the better to make her seem more somewhere else rather than presently here. She's paying attention to the trio, completely missing the invasion of the women's bathroom, and just waiting for the next move to be made. So it's the middle one, right? It's a little late for her to be checking that datachit again, so she'll have to hope that she's not the only one that showed up to this thing.
She does spot the Mandalrians and the Eechani woman; all of them strangers but who seem to stick out here more than she does. That's comforting, at least. Comfort flies out the window when voices raise, fists slam, and action is happening. Abandoning her drink for good, Tess slides out of her seat and weaves her way over to the table as the two remaining men are trying to quickly finish their drinks."Forgive the interruption," she offers in a smooth, offworlder accent. "I've picked the worst time to say this--" she glances over to where the first man is marching off then looks back "--but I couldn't help but notice you're more put together than the ruffians around here. I was wondering if you'd be interested in a business proposition."
Opportunity knocks. The big man steps from his place at the edge of the bar. Helmet turning fractionally towards Kirana and he is moving like oil over water, working his way through the crowd with his right hand moving beneath his cape. Turning to wend through the patronage and closing the distance while the other echani steps up to begin speaking to the pair left behind.
<<"Little early?">>
<<"Good enough.">>
Two more steps and once close enough to not shout at being heard, Hadrix rumbles, <"Excuse me."> through his helmet vocalizer a split second before his arm is up and a first order stun baton is unfolding on the process. Crashing into the stomach of the larger figure, bending him double and positioning him for the broad paddle to turn his head. Smoking from the electric-prod energy and tumbling to the floor, the Massive Mandalorian looks to the shorter of the pair now, T-visor centering on him and red glow flashing.
As Hadrix moved in, Amal released the glass she had not been drinking out of, moving into the fallback position which anyone who had seen bounty hunters working might recognize. Half turned to watch the room and keep an eye on the door and who was and wasn't coming out of it. She did not draw a weapon, but, well, echani. She did make sure to stand where anyone coming in or out of the door would have to go back or through her.
Seeing Hadrix start to approach the two targets, Kirana didn't quite know the man well enough yet to expect what was going to happen. Fortunately she did know him well enough to know that when he goes for a weapon, it's being used.
Seeing Hadrix stomach-smash the man, Kirana crouched slightly into a nimble fighting posture and went for the twenty-inch staff at her back.
Putting a hand to either end of it, she extended it slightly, then twisted, breaking the staff in to three. Crackling pink power couplings scream to life, holding the three pieces together and creating a non-lethal stun-field around the weapons. By now Hadrix had already neutralized the first target so Kirana rushed forward to help engage the other. Bonnie, for its part, was raising its stun rifle to fire at any others who think they might want to get involved against those that were here for the job.
Andan's head looks up. "A million credits." He says from the quiet confines of his personal stall.
A few moments later and the door to the stall is swinging closed, the water jets are on and the soap dispensor launches three bursts of foamy yellow suds on his hands.
Wipey wipey wipey splashy splish spoloosh wipey flick flick flick flick. The water is shut off and Andan reaches for a hand dryer, but it doesn't come on. He grumbles.
The door to the restroom opens and the man slips back out, wiping his hands on the hips of his pilot's jumpsuit. He looks around at the tavern patrons, as he starts back toward his table where his oxygen mask is still waiting for him beside his empty bowl. The bowl is gathered up, the man turns as the fight is breaking out, and just ignores it as he walks to the bar.
The bowl is set down, he motions for the beer to the bartender. "Yeah. No n-no, that one." He says, then nods his head. "Right. Yeah." He fishes out some credits and exchanges them for the fizzy beer drink.
The larger of the two pauses, glass-nearly-drained, and stares at you. It's a little unnerving as the liquid stays still at its level in the glass, not swallowing, pouring, or sitting. Slowly, he spits the last of the drink out and sets the glass back down. "I, uh... Yeah, we make a lot more money than them. Always interested in mo-" Side-eyeing something, the man winces just before a polite Mandalorian drops him to the floor.'
Chaos breaks out. It's not the first time in Vayli's long history, and it won't be the last. But the song remains the same. Several too drunk to worry just keep bending elbows and hoisting drinks to mouth, several duck down and look out for blaster fire, and more make a run for the nearest adjacent room - in this case, the bathrooms, or the back room. The grimiest patrons at the bar turn to look to the commotion, eyes widening through their dirt-coated faces as they see the collapsing form of Jaxar Vekkal slumping at the feet of a Mandalorian. A real, actual Mandalorian.
Somehow, the exiting figure of Vhal'tor Dakul - the well-dressed leader of the trio - doesn't seem to notice the noise. Or, perhaps, he does not seem to care. Striding away with purpose, he remains willfully unaware of the Echani posted near the door behind him, though his pace does pick up a little.
One Balosar, at least, does notice the fallen Balogiant. R'hain Voskal looks to the grimy Balosar at the bar and calls to them: "Don't just sit there, you back us up or you're not showing up to work tomorrow!" Drawing a vibrodagger from his belt, he looks to the large Mandalorian and his stun baton, and then to the advancing, smaller one with the staff, and backs into the corner until his back meets it. "You don't know who you're messing with. You're not just messing with me. I know people. BIG people. You don't mess with those kinds. You leave me alone, and maybe I don't tell them what happened." He looks to the unconscious Balosar, then adds in his gruff voice. "Accidents happen?"
At the bar, one of the patrons throws back his shot of something-or-other and stands, very reluctantly raising his fists like a bare-knuckle brawler, taking tentative steps toward the corner.
Tess glances over as the big one goes down in a flash of electrified stun baton. "Subtle," she grins at her reflection in the purple Mando's helmet. That's one down, at least. Was that the mission? She would glance at the door, but instincts are telling her to keep her eyes on the other one. "Look, here. It isn't personal-- I said--- Listen, if you'd--" No good. The man just keeps interrupting her. And he's calling for backup? Tess sighs heavily. "Fine, then." She nods to the armored pair. "I'll slow down the new recruits."
The slight of a woman slips from the table and winds between the now empty chairs of those who got the hell out of there while the getting was good. "Gentlemen," she offers on her approach, making sure to put herself between the new grunt and the target. "This is quite unnecessary. I sincerely doubt the well-dressed fellow pays you well enough to go against the fabled Mandalorians and two -- count them, two--" She even holds up two fingers. "--Eechani. Why not turn around and go back to your drinks? I'll even buy a round, mmm?" Because it's clear she's not going to move out of their way otherwise.
Swinging the baton around, hand raised to bring it vertical and in position to parry with the weapon, the attention of the big man goes to smaller figure. Shoulders rolling and rising onto the balls of his feet, Hadrix's answer is his left arm going up, blaster barrel extending from the bulk on the back of his vambrace and a single blast goes off to vaporize a camera mounted in one corner.
<"Hera?"> tone casual, turning towards the other recording device picked up on the ol' Mark I Optical Sensors.
He knows people. Terrible people. Oh the people that will come to make his life miserable. Within the confines of the helmet the grin is growing now, <"I'm exceptionally terrified of the gentleman's friends in high places. Please save me from the bad man."> a laugh on the end of his words. Ambushes in theaters, vode attacked in their homes. They could always try to track him to Demon Moon - if they can find him in Bral'Prudiise they deserve their shot.
Now this was just starting to get nasty. But, well, this was balosar. Amal did not expect anything different. She did, however, seeing that their primary target had departed, as he was intended to do, she moved to intercept the one making fists and threatening the unarmed human. There was probably a reason humans were so often targeted, but Amal did not bother to think on that, she only stepped into the incoming would be attacker, sending two quick, electricity laden jabs at his face, intent on putting him down. This was the new job.
Kirana was on the smaller one, hoping that someone would ensure the correct man will make it out safely. As she swings her sticks (connected by power couplings) in to R'hain Voskal's back, the tell-tale modulated, semi-goofy tone of a Battle Droid can be heard shouting: 'Ryder! There are cameras!'
<"Then blast them, you clanker!">
'Roger roger!'
R'hain, who had stumbled forward from the first hit, had started to recover for a moment before he caught Kirana's stun-batons directly to his chest, knocking him to the ground in a convulsing, breathing hulk.
Across the club, the blue blaster bolt of an ionized stun shot zips across the ceiling, smoldering one of the tiny cameras, the one Hadrix hadn't had time for.
When Andan gets his beer he's about to drink it when the fight gets more intense. He exhales and starts to walk away from the bar, the bars always get the most beat up...
Back at his table now, the man finds his seat and takes the edge of it. He rasies the drink up again, about to press it to his lips for a sip, when a few people rush by him in to the Ladies restroom. That makes him wince. Because... well... they'll find out. He ruined that place.
Back to his beer though, he's once more about to sip when his eyes notice the bug at the last second. It swoops in to his mouth and he spits the ambery yellow liquid on to the floor, then proceeds to wipe his mouth with the back of his jumpsuit sleeve. He is cast to look up again when a stun blast takes out a camera that he tracks with his eyes. "Bet they don't even work..." He mutters before once more trying his drink...
Several of the patrons at the bar - some covered in dirt and others comparatively clean-cut - are gesturing to the Echani not wearing the very-shocking gloves as they gesture toward the upper shelves. Some, at least, are taking her up on her offer, even as Fenn Lenn shakes his head and steps around her, only to find another Echani entreating him with a different - and much more abrupt - approach. Falling to the floor, the Balosar is out cold and crackling a little. Barely more than a dozen feet away, a large Balosar and a smaller one also show much the same disposition.
Both surveillance cameras are down and out, and the bartender is now adding to the din, calling to the Mandalorians - rather bravely, one must say - that someone has to PAY for those! A still threatens to fall over the bar, the bartender's agitated face the only remaining source of strife as some of the patrons begin to emerge from the bathrooms at the promise of free drinks and several seconds without blaster fire. Some of them look at the unconscious men and then look around before bursting into uneasy laughter as they resume their seats.
Taking prisoners is not her forte, so Tess is more than happy to leave that to being better equipped. Talking people out of a bad decision also seems to be out of her realm of possibility. She is ready to sidestep to get in Lenn's way, but the unfamiliar Echani is quicker and more efficient than she is. "You'd think I'd know by now that fists work better than words," she says to the femme with the shock gloves. "A lesson I'm sure you learned from birth. Sadly, I missed that in my formative years." She nudges the now sleeping Lenn with the tip of her boot and tick-tocks her head from one side to the other, looking over him with an appraising eye. "He'll be fine. Few vita-caps in the morning, some caff. Good as new."
She ignores those trying to take her up on the offer that was given to Sleepy McSleeperhead, though she does make it a point to approach Andan's table with her hands on her hips. "It's rude to ignore a lady, good sir. Or a good bar fight. What kind of spacer are you?"
The tender shouting the demand for payment for the cameras that were making recordings of the shenanigans turns the big man to face him. Standing for several breaths with the blaster on his forearm still smoking and the baton spun on its grip, switch toggled to retract its sectional paddle so it can be slipped into the sheath on his combat harnesses beneath his cape.
The blaster barrel remains extended a few moments. Pointed at the floor until he grumbles out,
<"Take it out of their pockets.">
That said, Hadrix turns smartly and starts towards the door, Gripper floating over to move up on his right flank again. The pair only slowing to politely get the door for Kirana before heading out into the muck and mud of an average Balosar evening.
Amal, looking across her shoulder to the woman who had tried to do this all diplomatically, nodded, "You are still young. There is more than enough time correct the error of your way." They had a job, but information was also currency. As the fight, such as it was, seemed to be winding down, Amal took the time to do a little looking. Best to know who might come looking for her the next time she was on this delightful nirvana. Amal took a knee, for all the world appearing to be checking to ensure that the fight had not resulted in any casualties. Always important, especially if the place demanded you pick up the dead man's tab. Finding them all at least nominally alive, Amal too moved to depart the bar. The datapad she'd check later.
Kirana Ryder takes a moment to look the crowd over, searching for further combatants. Seeing that the only remaining threats look to be friendly, she steps to her full height, dropping the combat stance, and throws her power-coupled batons forward, twisting her wrist in a way that draws them all inward, back to the single, twenty-inch staff it had been before. Carefully securing it to her back, she offers a nod to Tess as the doctor relays possible treatment options for the downed targets.
<"Bonnie,"> she says to the droid as it approaches her, securing its stun rifle to the pack at its back. <"Go get the scraps to that camera you blasted. If any circuits aren't completely fried, bring it to me.">
'Roger roger!'
Kira takes a few steps to the scraps of the one Hadrix had destroyed, crouching down to rummage through them. She finds a datacard that's still in fairly good looking condition, though the rest of the circuitry was dead. Bonnie had found functioning circuitry but a fried datacard. <"That'll work then,"> she muses, assembling the datacard into the other's circuit, and plugging that in to her datapad.
Probably not smart, but hey. When on Balosar.
Luckily her datapad isn't immediately hacked and she sets herself down at the bar, typing away on the 'pad's digital screen. While they can't be seen behind her helmet, her eyes narrow in concentration at the readout. <"Al'Verde,"> she looks up at Hadrix. <"Not sure where exactly but this was being accessed remotely. Someone was watching and I don't think they were watching from here. I'm going to look more in to it later.">
Beee-wooop. Bee-wooop. Andan's comm-link goes off. He's quick to retrieve it from a pocket and speaks to someone on the other side. "I'm a tavern, just down the way from where you guys are. Yes. No... Well, sort've. I'm having dinner and a show, you could say."
He's cut off when the woman approaches him, and speaks at him in that hoity-toity way that she does. He regards her from the edge of his seat, then leans back in his chair and extends his right foot. "Look, lady. That mess was already there in the restroom before I went inside. Take it up with management." He fires back at her before his mug is lifted up for another sip. "ARe you still buying drinks though? One's without bugs in them?"
Peace settles like a hesitant bird, taking the bar and its patrons under grimy but delicate wings. The Basin - often home to the occasional shout or disturbing creak in the distance - is still. In the distance, a single scream can be heard by those with the strongest ears. It's not until the first clanging klaxon is chased by some screams and calls that the night once more comes to life. Those moving to the windows can see black smoke in the distance, lit from beneath by a bright orange light before the flashing white that follows emergencies. As calls are echoed from one person to the next:
"FIRE!"
A small, one-and-a-half story house is lit in an inferno. No signs of life stir within, and occasionally the light flares from orange to red to blazing white, and back again. Defunct firefighting droids are beginning to trundle along, though several drag stationary legs with clearly-borrowed servos, and none move with the speed of response warranted by such a blaze. Already, lines are being hooked up to couplings, but the effort has gone straight to protecting nearby property, and panicked Balosar move to pull tarps over one of the nearby runoff pits.
From the Holonet:
"Tonight's BNN Bulletin features a fond farewell as H'vosh Raadon retires from swoop-racing after his eigth consecutive victory at the Balosar Downs Sel'Sabagno Invitational. Citing contractual completion, the famed racer did leave the door open to a return."
The broadcast cuts to the winner's circle, where enthusiastic dancers surround a rather tired-looking Balosar in swoop suit.
"What can I say, if someone offers me a better contract?" The champion winks at the camera. "I can always be motivated to stop resting on my laurels."
The camera cuts to a scene of a blazing fire in the Basin, with a reporter standing next to a grimy looking man as she faces the camera.
"Meanwhile, a seemingly-unquenchable blaze has the Basin district coming together to contain it. Sir, you said you know whose home this is?" The man nods, holding a hand out with pay-me gestures.
"Yeah... That's Adasta's place."
"Adasta? Do you have a full name?"
"No one calls him by his full name. Just Adasta. Place went up like a chemplant chimney, he's probably still in there. What's left of 'em. You said I got credits for talking to you." The reporter makes a cutting motion with the microphone as she extracts some credit chits from her pocket.
