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Post by Drucillia Maldives on Mar 23, 2016 10:10:09 GMT -8
"Go for it, it would be nice to only have to dodge a couple agencies and not every half brained bounty hunter in the 'verse."
She didn't miss the little tremor that shuddered through the room, but she refocused on the question of where to go. She pondered a moment and grunted something to herself, shaking the idea away.
"I try to avoid places I was known to frequent. Try to stick to heavily populated worlds. Gerrenthum was nice, maybe Empress Teta."
They bussed their trash and headed for the door. There was a barber shop up the street a little more and she left him there to get cleaned up while she sat in the caf house next door reading a well worn book she had tucked in her jacket pocket. They had shig and from the taste of it, the plants were fresh when the mixture was brewed. There was a lingering sweetness from some berry that negated the need for sugar or additives to the beverage.
When the pull of the book just wasn't cutting it, she sat down in front of a public console and started to peruse a travel site for places that would be conducive to their situation. She finally closed it down, cleared out the history and headed back to the barber shop. She stopped next to him in the chair, her hands in her pockets.
"What about Dubrillion?"
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anon
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Post by anon on Mar 23, 2016 10:51:38 GMT -8
"Dubrillion works. Empress Teta if it becomes too hot there."
If the Rodian barber thought it strange that the man was trading in his shoulder length locks for a high fade, he didn't say anything. By the time the haircut was done, he looked like a completely different person. The beard was still there; only a fool would trust a stranger with a blade to their neck on the Smuggler's Moon. He resolved to pick up some shave cream as soon as possible. The beard was itchy, and it didn't go well with the haircut at all.
Once business was completed, they tipped the Rodian and headed for a particular spaceport. It wasn't anything close to nearby or convenient, but that was because even his powers of foresight couldn't predict exactly where he'd be if he ended up in trouble in this hellhole. There was a bank just outside. The man went in, accessed a safety deposit box, and came out in less than five minutes.
"One hundred and fifty thousand credits and perfectly genuine identity for Roland Talamie. I guess that's who I am now."
The man, Roland now, had set up this drop over thirty years ago in anticipation of just such an event. Most of the major planets had similar caches. He made a point of spending a few months every decade setting up new ones or taking outdated ones out of commission. Paranoid, perhaps, but no one would ever accuse him of not planning for the worst.
"Should be able to get us where we need to go, in our own ship too, if you want."
They had been travelling for the better part of the day, and the sandwiches from earlier were but a fond memory. Roland's stomach was growling fiercely. His metabolism was still in starvation mode, and made rapid use of every calorie it could find.
"Reckon we should get a bite to eat?"
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Post by Drucillia Maldives on Mar 23, 2016 11:40:00 GMT -8
Getting across town wasn't too bad, it was a nice trip for the most part. There weren't really nice days on Shaddaa, just the pollution and dingy look of a city planet that had far too much going on and far too few people caring what the place looked like. She waited outside the bank on a bench on the sidewalk, reading her book again as people gave her weird looks and went about their business. When he came out, he was flush with enough to get them a ship although what kind was up to him. He was calling the shots there.
She scrunched her nose up at the name.
"Roland? That sounds so perfectly boring. I'm not calling you that." There was a laugh and a smile on her face that seemed to light her from within and breath a new spark into her. "I'm calling you Roman. You've been roaming around for years so it fits."
She stuck her tongue out at him and shoved the book back into her deep side pockets on her jacket. She looked around, pointing to a lit neon sign on the side of a building.
"Hmmm, there's a pub over there. Probably have something edible."
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anon
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Post by anon on Mar 23, 2016 12:11:52 GMT -8
Roland, Roman if that was what she was going to call him, shrugged.
"If not, they'll have beer. There's calories aplenty there."
As it turned out, the pub did have food. Much like the sandwiches from earlier, it wasn't anything fancy, but it was filling. Roman tucked into a plate of bangers and mash and washed it down with a pint of brown ale that actually wasn't too bad. As he shoveled food in with his right hand, his left was furiously pounding away into a datapad. Nar Shaddaa always had an extensive market of used starships for sale. The vast majority were sketchy as hell, either stolen or held together with spit and baling wire, but the impound yards were usually a good place to look. While there wasn't much in the way of law enforcement, Hutts would often confiscate ships to cover debts. The ships were usually in decent shape, and fairly priced too, often sold for the price of the debt rather than what they could fetch on an open market. It was a lesson to spacers with delinquent accounts who weren't worth the cost of a bounty hunter: not only will we take your home, we'll sell it cheap.
Of course, they recouped the loss by requiring a 10,000 credit up front fee for the right to buy a ship from impound, but Roman considered it well worth the cost if it meant avoiding some of the shadier "deals" out there.
"Hey, look at this," he said in between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes and sausage. "Got a SoroSuub 1550-Lex yacht for 65,000. Outfitted with a light turbolaser and a couple of quad blasters, decent hyperdrive, and plenty of cargo room if we need to haul stuff. Figure in the fees, registration, and stores and we're looking at 80,000 even. I'd call that a good find."
He projected a hologram of the craft so Dru could take a look.
"What do you think?"
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Post by Drucillia Maldives on Mar 23, 2016 12:45:44 GMT -8
"It's your money, you pick the ship babe."
She was starting to relax, starting to feel at ease acting the way around him she always had. Long before he was her lover, he had been a very good friend and sitting in a bar with something bluesy in the background and the smell of stale alcohol in the air was right up their alley. She had been playing with a load of fries, pushing them through a spicy sauce and chewing them slowly as she read the subtitles on the HNN from holovids mounted around the bar. She liked to keep abreast of galaxy politics but she was so far removed from it now, it was just with the curiosity of a normal citizen.
She picked up her sandwich and continued eating while he made whatever arrangements he wanted. She wasn't especially fussed about the ship, she just wanted somewhere to relax and talk to him. Get a proper shower, have a decent sleep. Do something forget the regrets she had been carrying for years. And tell him what she had been through. If he wanted to know.
She suddenly stopped chewing wondering if he would even want to know. She swallowed hard and reached for the shig, taking a long drink from the mug. Silly talk. Of course he would want to know. She pushed the plate aside, satisfied but not overly full. She looked around the patrons, sitting quietly, not really knowing what to say.
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anon
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Post by anon on Mar 23, 2016 14:49:20 GMT -8
Roman nodded and proceeded to go through with the purchase. They'd examine the ship in person before the balance was paid in full, but the registration and purchase fee were paid upfront. They'd be refunded if the ship turned out to be unusable before the balance was paid, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
They had some time to kill before the order went through, so they stopped by a local gun store so he could pick up a substitute for his trusty revolver. They were light on slugthrowers, with the only real selection being either decorative pieces or so ludicrously overpriced that it would put a noticeable dent in their funds, so he eventually settled on a DL-44 and a waistband holster. It wasn't quite as comfortable as a dropleg holster on a separate belt, but it was easily enough to hide under his loose clothing, and while he didn't much care for blasters, it would have to do.
Then the message that they had been waiting for came through: their ship was ready. All they had to do was meet in the assigned bay, inspect it, sign the paperwork and transfer the remaining balance.
As expected, the ship was in decent shape. The cabins were spacious and well appointed. And, as Roman had requested, the main cabin had been outfitted with a king-sized bed. The Hutt who was selling the ship, a young (by Hutt standards) fellow by the name of Korba, had the paperwork squared away, so they exchanged signatures and credits. Roman knew it would be expected to tip generously and did so, and included an extra thousand credits for a special order to be delivered within fifteen minutes. The Hutt winked, and slithered away.
Sure enough, while they were pumping fuel onboard and laying in the last of the stores, a courier arrived with a small wooden crate. He popped the top, checked the contents, and smiled. The courier earned a generous tip himself, and was sent on his way.
Within an hour, they had cleared orbit, and were safely ensconced in hyperspace. The autopilot was perfectly capable of handling the next leg of the journey, so they retired to the a secondary cabin that had been outfitted as a sitting room. There were plush chairs, a small table, and an entertainment system, which sat dormant in on the far wall. On the table was a bottle of their favorite Black Cask whiskey, delivered by the courier.
"I know it's not much, but I thought we should celebrate a little."
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Post by Drucillia Maldives on Mar 24, 2016 7:38:21 GMT -8
While he checked everything over and completed the necessary paperwork, she headed back to the hotel to get the footlocker and the rest of their things. She had wanted this for so long and now she could only wonder if history would repeat itself. Would she return to the spaceport with their things in tow to find an empty ship and missing man again. She tried not to think about it as she packed away her armor suit neatly into the trunk, laying the old revolver on top before she closed the lid.
The lobby was deserted as she walked through it and out to the street, the rumbling case over the ground masking the sound of his steps as he came up behind her and put a blaster in her back. The folds of his jacket and the fall of her poncho hid the barrel from onlookers, but his words were in her ear as he moved the muzzle under her poncho.
"You shouldn't have done that Dru. You have no idea what you were messing with." Tobin seethed at her, looking up and down the street. The way he was leaning and the placement of his hand would look to passersby as if they were intimately acquainted rather than it being a violent situation. He looked up and down the street, looking for somewhere to take her but around the building to back was his best option to get a speeder he could steal. He had planned to get her alone in her room but her sudden check out accelerated his timeline. Dusk was just beginning to color the skies and stretch the long shadows into the creeping darkness of the night.
She walked casually, dragging the case and quietly disappointed at his actions but he did her the favor of filling her in on her shortcomings as they walked to what she could only assume was her murder scene.
"I spent a year trying to get on Archer's ship, trying to get into position so that I could take out Darb and bring Archer in. This was supposed to be my shining achievement. And you just couldn't roll over. As if it would matter, you've quit the ship. Did you really need to throw me into Archer if you were just going to leave?" He was getting increasingly angry as they stopped in a secluded area of the lot. She couldn't see his face but the tone of his voice rose with each phrase. "First I was just going to kill you for your interference. Then I did a little digging and the bounty on you is ridiculous compared to Archer's. I don't know who you pissed off but someone on Dressel wants you pretty bad."
At this point, she was tired of playing his game. He stepped in front of her as he moved to wrench open a speeder door but the distraction was all she needed. She concentrated her will at his throat and he began to choke immediately, the blaster slipping from his hand as he was hoisted off the ground. She let him hang there a moment before she dropped him the ground. He scooted backwards from her but the speeder behind him blocked his escape. She kneeled in front of him, a hard look on her face as she stared into his terrified eyes.
"If you're going to play bounty hunter, it pays to really research your target and why they are being hunted." She began to speak something he couldn't understand, the words sounding like punchy gutteral vocalizations. She reached out to lay a hand on his forehead and he flinched from her but he could not move away and with a touch, his body went slack. "I can't have you follow me. Sorry kid."
He sat wide-eyed a moment while she confiscated his blaster and tucked it into her belt. He would come around in a moment or two but she would be long gone by that point. She blanked probably about a year from his mind but it would be enough to erase anything he might have had about her. The effort of the spell gave her a blinding headache and she swooned a little herself but she pulled herself to her feet and walked off with footlocker in tow. Back out on the street, she caught a taxi and headed to the spaceport where Roman was waiting for her, the last bit of fuel getting pumped on the yacht. She dropped the trunk in the bedroom and hit the refresher. She needed a shower to wash the funk of this place off her.
The ship needed to be cleaned but it wasn't too terrible for a quick wipedown. When she emerged from the cabin dressed and clean, she felt like a new person and they were safely in hyperspace. He had managed to find some Black Cask and without anything else to distract them, she pulled a pack of spiced cigarras out and lit one while he poured them a couple drink. Her fingers curled around the glass, smoke drifting up in ringlets around her head.
"What shall we drink to?"
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anon
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Post by anon on Mar 24, 2016 8:21:03 GMT -8
Blissfully unaware of Dru's violent encounter on the street, Roman considered the question for a moment.
"Us," he said. "We're back together, and Force help anyone or anything that tries to pull a damn fool stunt like that again."
He tossed his drink back, letting the alcohol sear his tongue and throat. The burn transmuted to a comfortable warmth in his gut, and he refilled his glass. This one would be savored a little more carefully. He hadn't had a chance to replace his pipe yet, so he bummed a cigarra off of Dru and lit it with a spark that arced between two fingers. It was a habit he'd had for ages, one that came as naturally as, well, smoking.
He was a little dismayed to find two tiny specs of charred skin at the sites where the spark originated and terminated, but paid no further mind to it.
It wasn't long before the room's air circulator lost its battle to keep the air clear. A light haze descended on the room, complementing the dim lighting and the soft jazz that began playing from the entertainment system. The music caught Roman off guard at first; neither of them had requested it. He figured it was probably a preset thing from the previous owner. Once certain parameters were met, cue the music. And hey, it was good music.
Being so close to Dru again felt unreal. Being cast adrift in the space between universes, having to force himself to exist where nothing else could, had been literally all he had known for countless ages. He wasn't aware enough in that place to be fully cognizant of what kept him going, but looking back, he realized it was hope. Hope that one day, he would be reunited with the one being who had ever come close to understanding him.
If he was honest with himself, Roman felt a bit like a dog that finally caught the groundcar it had been chasing. Here she was, less than a foot away. He couldn't take his eyes off Dru, but beyond that, he was at a loss. From what little she had said, the last seven years had been a nightmare for her. How the hell was he supposed to make that right?
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Post by Drucillia Maldives on Mar 24, 2016 9:35:24 GMT -8
"To us."
Proper light, properly clean, dressed in clothes that were reasonably intact and not stained and ripped, he could see now that she looked a little different. Changing her face had been one of those things that helped her hide the last few years. There were somethings that could not be hidden though. Her eyes were the same, her dark hair was the same. She tapped the glass on his before she raised it to her lips and sipped it.
It tasted good, really good but as with the bar last night, she decided to limit herself to just a glass.
She sank down into one of the chairs, pulling her legs up underneath her as she pulled on the cigarra, the smoke leaking from her lips in a sinister grey plume that dissipated into the air of the open room. Another sip of the liquor and the glass was set carefully down while she rolled the cigarra in her fingers, the curls of smoke now zigzags rising. She looked at him carefully, pondering where to begin the tale.
"Shall I start at the beginning? Or shall we skip the journey and just catch you up on who I am now?"
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anon
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Post by anon on Mar 24, 2016 11:01:09 GMT -8
"Start at the beginning," Roman replied. "Please. I...I.."
It wasn't pity, or some guilt-driven self flagellation that drove him to ask her to recount the whole story. There was something else, something he didn't quite understand. It was something instinctual that said he needed to hear what she had to say, and she needed to say it. He wasn't sure if the Force was telling him something, or if it was one of those human emotion things that he still didn't fully understand.
He took another sip of the drink and eyed Dru carefully.
"Please."
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