Log:Wupiupi Whoopee!

Wupiupi Whoopee!

OOC Date: December 4, 2022
Location: Nar Shaddaa, Hutt District
Participants: Fshmaw, Kohnner, Amal Jha, BD-3000, Creepy Cheese Man, Frexl

Far below the skylanes of the Smuggler's Moon, below the ancient towers that stretch nearly to the stars, below the layers of sentient life attempting to steal their way to the top, there are still streets.

This is a story about those streets, it's a story about Wupiupi, but it's also a story about... you know what? Let's just tell the story.

Place: A Clothing Store for Dancers, Hutt District, Nar Shaddaa

Time: Katunda the 12th. Evening.

The Hutt District, otherwise known as Hutta Town, is probably the oldest settled portion of the Smuggler's Moon. After all, it's difficult to imagine its original settlers doing a whole lot of moving after they arrived.

In this area is an old shop, certainly much older than the pair of Twi'leks who help run it. Perhaps older than anyone living can attest to. A clothing shop that specializes in the sort of risque garments preferred by the sort of sentients that think all dancing should include either a pole or a rancor pit. Normally, it's a fairly sedate place, with the only real titillation provided by the scantily-clad mannequins.

But recently, very recently, it's also been the scene of a crime.

A mannequin mauled! A shopkeeper struck! And most heinously, at least to the Hutts, a parcel of profitable product pilfered!

One of the shop girls looks to be okay, if a bit shaken by the encounter. She's currently rubbing the back of the Other Shopkeeper, who looks a bit less okay. Both Twi'leks, and both very green, one is holding a cold compress to a swollen cheek while the other massages her back and makes concerned faces at her. A Rodian busies herself with picking up the mess, which consists of a couple of mannequins knocked over, and some General Disarray. One of the mannequins appears to be naked, and its garments are nowhere to be seen.

"It's okay, Mookna, those schutta will get what's coming to them, in this life or the next."

This doesn't seem to comfort the Twi'lek with the cold compress very much, but really, she doesn't look that bad. The swelling is already going down.

Fshmaw mainly stands glued to his commlink-headset, having dispatched BB4L as an extra pair of eyes to scour the racks (and perhaps nearby streets.) Another feed of intelligence, to go with the sources he's already tapping on Nar Shaddaa. Borgol's influence here may be less direct than on Tatooine, but the Hutt Lord's word or fear of his wrath motivates many a being...

Chon Kohnner may not have thought all Twi'lek women should be dancing on a pole or above a Rancor pit. He did however enjoy such escapades, especially TWi'lek women. Dancing anywhere. Anytime... especially if it was for him.

This hobby, vice, enjoyment... what have you, was a recent development for him. He did not find most female mammals attractive. Even Zeltrons (they made him sneeze with their Pheromones). He had spent time at the Twi'lick Night Club here in Hutta Town for months attempting to gain information on his Sisters. He had frequented it so much and spent so much money that he had somehow negotiated his way into majority investment and shareholder in the operation.

Now that he could spend all the time he wanted watching Twi'lek dancers and his Sisters were safe and sound, he spent more time following Bounties. Today though, he was asked by one of his favorite girls to go pick up her new dancing dress... something that would gain him a free dance. Maybe something more.

So here he was, entering the shop right after the crime. A big armored Klatooinian. He looked left, then right, then to the two Twi'leks. <<"Uhhh. I'm here for Sangi's outfit...">> He said through his helmet.

Amal, when she was on the moon, and not handling her usual business, made it a point to keep her ear to the ground, on the offchance that her serves as Borgol's Wraith might come in useful. It was time such as this one, when word came that there was a disturbance at the Hutt District and could she lend a hand in getting things under control. "Ah, it appears that I have a good team, this time." If by team, Amal meant one Aqualish and a BB droid. "Any updates, Fsh?"

As the Rodian female continues to clean up, the Twi'leks look a bit rattled by the unexpected appearance of... not their usual clientele. Well, aside from the Klatooinian, he pretty much looks like a composite image of their average client.

"Sangi's outfit?" The Twi'lek without the bruise on her cheek taps a few things quickly on her datapad, and brings up a bunch of numbers and whatever else datapads have on them.

"I think that was with the shipment that got stolen. But we can have a replacement ordered by... six Katundas from now."

What a strange way of telling time.

The Twi'lek WITH the bruise, puts away her cold compress, and looks at the immaculately-clad Echani. "Are you a cop? Because I wanna report a CRIME!"

Her eyes flash in anger, and she waves at all the damage to the store.

"This CREEP came in here with his droid. One of those... old gross ones rich people used to have. He says he's looking for something special for his 'lady friend'... turns out the DROID is his lady friend!"

She inhales sharply.

"Does it look like we sell garments for droids here?"

Fshmaw takes a momentary break from his signal-feed, attempting to clumsily offer 'expert medical advice.' A certain amount of gesturing and low hoots is eventually filtered through the MTD he wears as a belt. It relates, probably too loudly: "You are dangerously underweight for an Aqualish. You must eat more lard while holding ice to your injuries. If possible have the largest bull lick them sterile."

Chon stares at the Twi'lek who answers him, his helmet's visor hiding his features for the time being. He seems to be listening and answers only with, "Stolen?"

Poor Sangi, she wouldn't get her outfit today. Poor Kohnner, he wouldn't get a free dance. Unless...

The Klatooinian looked up and saw a security sensor, positioned just so that it would have recorded the entire event. Amal arrives, taking his attention away. <<"Amal...">> He greets, seemingly knowing her. <<"She's better than a cop. So am I. The security sensor up there... I need the recordings. We will retrieve your stolen merchandise...">> And in effect, Kohnner may yet get his free dance from Sangi. He glances to Fshmaw as, starring at the words coming from the feed he's watching.

"Security ask question." the Echani offered in answer to Chon's comment, "We strive for results." Amal, who appeared more concerned with seeing to the crime scene than to the care and feeding of the twi'leks, turned away from where the...were they sisters?...we comforting each other, and began to move in careful strides through the shop. She made it perhaps halfway through, before she pointed, "It appears the man, or his droid, has left us a trail to follow." If one looked in the direction Amal was pointing, they might note blue paint on the ground, left in the shape of droid footprints.

"Can't believe that creep. Going on and on about the garments not being rated for 'that kind of activity', whatever the frutz that means... believe me, I don't wanna know."

She taps a few buttons on her terminal, and brings up a holovid from the security feed, timestamped only a few moments ago. The shimmering blue-tinged image of a mild-mannered looking mustached man in a business suit appears, as viewed from above. Sure enough, he's got a droid with him that matches the description perfectly, aside from what looks like some amateurishly-applied paint to the entire body.

The video shows the man yelling at the Twi'lek, and then applying the bruise to her cheek. It ends after he's ordered his droid to grab a large parcel, then stripped one of the mannequins bare, and knocked over a few others on his way out the door. His eyes glow creepily as he makes incidental eye contact with the cameras as he departs.

"Never trust a sentient with fur on its lip, our mother always said..."

She cuts herself off, looking at the company around her.

"It was just... a quaint expression she had. Silly mother."

Fshmaw's sideburns flutter. He attempts to make contact with the roving droid. "Forel, any contact? Leads requiring consultation?"

Kohnner looked to the holo-recording as Amal retraced the steps of their mark. <<"Herm. Interesting.">> He steps closer, examining it closely. <<"Well he couldn't have gone far. We know what he looks like and.">> He turns towards Amal, <<"We've a scent on his trail. Let us not waste time.">> He looked back then at the TWi'leks. <<"We shall return once this matter has been taken care of.">> He then turns and moves towrads Amal to follow her.

Amal nodded, as the Klatoonian remarked on the scene, happy to have someone else to handle the less than put together females. "The sooner we are on our way, the more likely we are to catch the perpetrator." She did, though, look back towards the two women, after indicating the course the paint was taking, "The tracks lead to that hotel." And then, to the pair, "What was in the delivery that he stole?" This was the Hutt District, surely it ahd to be more than simply clothing, and flimsy clothing at that.

Soon Afterwards...

The Wormstew Town Extended Stay is 'technically' right on the border of the Hutt District, but a very short walking distance from the Risque Clothing Shop. Perhaps that's why our strange criminal chose the shop? Or maybe it's why he chose the hotel? The only way to know for sure is probably to beat it out of him.

Or maybe ask nicely. But can you really trust anything a man with a mustache has to say?

Inside the hotel's dingy lobby, a man in a business suit is standing at the concierge desk next to a droid that's holding a large parcel. It's an old BD-3000 droid, matching exactly the description of one that Lord Borgol recently reported missing. Aside from the fact that it's been hastily repainted in an amateurish fashion, almost as if the poor droid were quickly dunked in blue paint.

But why would someone do such a thing, other than to disguise a stolen droid, perhaps? Well, the only other clue lies in the fact that the man in the shabby business suit, with the even shabbier mustache, appears to be a Chiss.

That explains why his eyes glowed creepily in the camera's feed.

"Look sir, we can't let you take a droid upstairs covered in... I'm gonna go ahead and assume that's paint. You'll have to pay extra for cleaning, and for... my discretion."

The concierge taps the counter expectantly for a bribe that doesn't seem to be easily forthcoming.

The Chiss turns away from the counter, looking around the lobby with his creepy red eyes. Mostly though, he seems to be looking the BD-3000 up and down and trembling with anticipation.

"Poor lonely computer, it's time someone programmed you. It's time you learned 'love' and 'lust'. They both have four letters, but they're entirely different words. Poor lonely computer. Poor, poor lonely computer. Do you really know what love is?"

Droid Love is something Kohnner could never understand. He didn't own any droids, he refused to. He was as anti-droid as it came. He preferred the company of sentients, especially the kind with lekku. We already discussed that at length though.

On a Mission, a very important mission. Not just for one Lekkued lady, but three. Three very lucky lekku ladies. Chon Kohnner does not sneak. He does not do thing quietly. He is a man of honor who calls out his opponents and fights them in the streets. "You!" He calls out as he enters, recognizing the eyes and the droid from the security footage. Amal had lead them here and they had arrived seemingly just in time. <<"You will surrender to us! We are official members of the Bounty Hunters Guild. You will /not/ violate that droid.">>

Kohnner does not draw his sword however, simply waits, his tattered hooded cloak swaying as his body comes to a stop. Hands open at his sides.

Fshmaw *cranks* the translator belt into 'as loud as it will go,' and verbally suggests: "Come out with your hands visible. We have the establishment surrounded. Surrender peaceably or be taken by violence."

Kohnner backs up Fsh's threat, <<"YEAH... Exactly.">>

Amal, adjusting her jacket, so that there would be no difficulty in drawing her weapon, moved into the hotel, moving to work with CHon to bracket the man and his droid. While she was not nearly so forceful as the Klatoonian, she did not need to be. She was the silent 'good guy' in this scenario, yes? "This will go more easily for you if you come quietly. But, you will be coming regardless." A hint of a pause, "And not with the droid."

"Ahem! Sir, that will be four hundred Wupiupi..."

The concierge's sentence trails off as he realizes what's happening, and more importantly what's about to happen. He quickly disappears, ducking behind the counter as if expecting gunplay.

Who knows? Maybe he's right?

The Chiss looks startled, but he's kind of a nervous-looking man generally. The sweat on his receding forehead matches pretty well with the general mustache-having vibe he's got going on.

"Darling... it uh... seems we have some uninvited guests." He tries to sound way more confident than he looks, but the stammering doesn't help.

"You'll protect me, won't you?"

Still holding the parcel, the droid's head swivels quizzically, looking at the man she came here with. Blue paint is still running down the sides of her head, but it's mostly dried by this point. Mostly.

"Of course I will... *ZZZZT!* protect you. I must *ZZZZT!*... serve you... *ZZZZT!*... Master!"

This answer seems to comfort the Chiss somewhat. Each time that the droid's vocabulator shorts out, it's head tilts violently to one side. It appears to be suffering some sort of malfunction. Dunking it in paint couldn't have helped.

Holding up his hands, revealing a total lack of firearms, the Chiss calls out as confidently as he can muster.

"Hey now! Let's all just... uh... let's all calm down, okay? It's like... hey... maybe if you all would just mind your business... uh... maybe that would be best for everyone? My droid is... uh... I have a BATTLE DROID! Very dangerous! Okay, so yeah..."

He looks around frantically.

"And I've got some money... what if I give you... 1,000 Wupiupi?"

Fshmaw looks mainly like "an armored sentient," probably lacking the precise flourishes that suggest he could be a cop. Nonetheless he breaches the door, pistol at the ready. "We have not been authorized to negotiate a price. Hands up, behind your head." It... probably... would have been legitimately scarier to leave it untranslated, but not every op goes strictly to plan? Suck in your gut, Foosh, you cringebeast.

<<"The bounty is worth far more than that anyways...">> Kohnner starts, just starring between the malfunctioning droid and the Chiss. <<"Listen. I'm not judging.">> He was, <<"Even ugly mutts like me deserve a little love. Why droids though? Sharp, cold steel. You have some unresolved intimacy issues. I understand.">> He still hasn't drawn his blade, but he does step closer to the Chiss. <<"We can resolve those issues... if you just come with us. Otherwise... ya might not live.">>

Amal, whose eyes tracked the droid, more than the Chiss. She clearly was leaving the sentient to Chon, a signal from her free hand communicating as much as she took a step forward and reached beneath her duster, the rapier sliding free of its sheath and into the comfortable grip of her hand, "We were going to allow you the chance to come peacefully, but now, I'm afraid you've left us with no options." The pale, almost silvered blade blossomed with light, the crimson red of the plasma core brilliant against the whiteness of her attire.

"Okay! Okay! No need to... you know, you guys are being real dicks... here I am, just living my life. And anyway, what's wrong with the way I live my life? Can't a man love a Blue Computer? Just like my old man..."

The Creepy Chiss seems to be on the verge of some sort of emotional breakthrough, but he's got his hands up in the air and clearly not a threat. He seems resigned to his fate. After all, this is a pretty overwhelming show of force, and he doesn't appear to be armed.

Behind him and slightly off to the right, the BD-3000 sets the large parcel on the counter, right above where the concierge is presumably still hiding unless he scuttled away cockroach-like.

As he looks behind him, the Chiss gets a view of the BD-3000 bending over to set the package down, and licks his upper lip, and a good chunk of his mustache becomes moist. Then he turns back to look at the hunters who so rudely interruped his festivities, and his eyes become practically irridescent!

His arms drop, and one of them reaches inside the front flap of his business suit!

For all the good that will do him, poor slob.

Fshmaw, only succeeding tonight insofar as he keeps his sweaty face out of the limelight, aims for low-center mass. A sure hit for a practiced marksman, if maybe not enough to disable the man himself. Whether not risking damage to the 'droid is the smart play, well, that won't be for Fshmaw to say.

Chon did not hesitate. As soon as the Chiss went for whatever was tucked away in his suit he acted. The Klatooinian was unnatural fast, aided by the natural agility of his predatory species. He grabbed the collar/tie of the Chiss' suit with one hand. Then quickly with the other, punched him directly in the face. It was over in a matter of seconds. The harsh sound of his gauntleted fist cracking against the blue sentient's skull.

He then held the unconscious man there, upright, with his one hand as he turned and looked at Amal. Then to the BD-3000.

Amal, true to her word, or at least her signal, but were Echani not known for their unspoken language?, stepped to the left, the rapier snapping out with a flick of her wrist, snaking out into its whip form as she half spun, the weapon wrapping around the droid and pulling it down to the floor with a downward stroke of her wrist. "Retrieve the box." She did not, herself, move to retrieve the box, as the droid was caught, but not depowered, and might still be a problem. A pause, "And the droid. I am certain the cartel will be interested in the Chiss."

As expected, the Chiss goes down almost immediately, but he had a very obvious glass jaw. After he goes limp in the Klatooinian's hand, the sound of a small holdout pistol clattering against the ground can be heard. Looks like Our Heroes made the right call.

"NOOOO!" The droid sounds legitimately distraught, but she doesn't have long to process the pummeling her would-be lover has taken. With a loud "*SQUAWK!*" the droid shorts out again as the electro whip easily disables her. A skillful attack, causing the droid to lose control of its limbs, without any noticeable damage to the droid.

Sure, the blue paint got scuffed some, but it's unlikely the client wanted his droid painted that shade anyway.

As the droid lays there, it's vocabulator kicks back on. Perhaps surprisingly, the charge from the whip seems to have rebooted it's processor!

"Nooo! Don't harm him! I must serve him to my Master! He'll be ever so cross if he doesn't get his Chiss Soup!"

From over on the counter, the package begins to move of its own volition. As if something from the inside was... trying to escape?

Fshmaw ambles over to retrieve the package. NO ONE OUTRUNS A TUBBY AQUALISH.

"Damn droids taking good money out of working girl's hands." Kohnner grumbles as he hefts the Chiss over his shoulder. Turning towards Amal and the captured droid he may or may not knock the Chiss' head accidently against one thing or another. He moves closer and studies the droid before smacking it hard with a free hand. CLANK <<"Snap out of it... ya hunk of bolts.">>

Amal, moving around the droid, kept it wrapped in the whip, "And who precisely is your master? They can still have a meal, should the Chiss not be as forthcoming as we would like." The toe of her left heel nudged at the box, moving to put it away from the droid, at least far enough that it could be opened without being in the droid's range of movement. Keeping the droid in hand, Amal bent to work with her free hand, accessing the droids datacore, and looking entirely unhappy about it, as the blue pain had now transferred itself to her white glove. "Grandhutt's Cheese Soup." Looking over at the Chiss being randomly pummeled by Chon, "Close enough, I suppose."

Amal Jha glanced up to the two with her, "It's a kitchen service droid." And back to the droid, "How did you get free of the compound?"

Fshmaw says, "Crime of passion. Fetish. I think he probably arranged her release, no?"

The package continues to jump as if something inside is trying to kick its way to freedom. But sadly with no success. That is, until a Helpful Aqualish assists with the opening of the package!

Inside is a... huh.

It's a scraggly-looking Dug trussed up in bindings like a prize ham. His mouth gagged, and his limbs strapped to his sides in a very uncomfortable position, he fit pretty neatly inside the box.

"Rrrt mrr ORRRRT! RRRRT MRRR ORRRRRRT!"

I think it wants out.

Now that the droid's datacore has been accessed, it's obvious that it's been corroded over years of abuse and clogged up with all sorts of disgusting gunk. This has all the trademark signs of belonging to one of the Hutts. But which one?

Fortunately, the BD-3000 is in a very helpful mood now.

"My Master is Lord Borgol, Ruler of All He Surveys and Defenestrator of Widows and Orphans. Perhaps you've heard of him? A few weeks ago he instructed me to prepare him some of the Chiss Soup that his Grandhutt made him when he was a Huttling and we were fresh out..." A realization dawns upon the droid, and she looks away, seeming a bit stunned.

"Oh dear, oh dear. I'm afraid I've made a dreadful mistake."

Fshmaw snorts, amused. Or exasperated. They sound entirely alike in Aqualish. "What are you? The noodles?" He does not untie the Dug, instead getting on the radio: "Stand by for data-dump and prepare to transmit extraction protocols. One 'droid, one unspecified sentient in tow."

Chon shakes his head at the droid, turning now towards Fsh and the package the Aqualish is opening. He hears the Dug. Steps up and peers down into the box. <<"Well... That's interesting.">> There is a glance towards Fsh. Then he looks around the rest of the lobby. Where was Sangi's outfit. This wasn't good. No free dance for Kohnner. He grumbled.

"Odd. That does not track with what I know of Lord Borgol." But, who was Amal to say. She was only an Echani, and a child, in such ways as Hutts counted years. "But, I am certain he will look forward to having you back in his employ. Perhaps he will overlook your error as a reward for being so diligent in making the attempt to fulfill his needs." At any rate, Amal flicked her wrist, the whip snapping back into its rapier form, "I can arrange transport back to Lord Borgol's compound."

Fshmaw *chins over.* "What about Noodles? Are we taking a droid, a Chiss and a trussed Dug to the Palace?"

It takes the Dug a long time to spit out the gag that's been stuffed inside his mouth. After all, he's got a very long mouth. But as the ends of the gag start to appear it's clear that whatever it was the droid stuffed in his mouth, it was very lacy.

Surely he'll have quite a story to tell, though he'll probably need a couple liters of booze first.

The concierge reappears, peeking carefully over the counter. Only his forehead and nose are exposed, like Kilroy.

"Hey... did I hear you guys say there's a reward? How many wupiupi is it?"

With transport on its way, and the droid recovered, Our Heroes can probably expect a payday of some sort, and perhaps even bask in the glow of His Corpulency's gratitude. But for now, they'll have to be content with having removed a potentially dangerous man from the streets, and learning an unconventional recipe for 'Cheese' Soup.

Was that worth the effort? Who can say. But perhaps it'll make for a fun story to tell in the years to come.