The Seductions of the Dark Side

[Gunner]

Etti IV, one of the wealthiest planets in the Corporate Sector, and a popular stop for those with the skills, emans and propensity for work fitting into the legal grey area (or leaning more towards black). The bar Arik Denal currently patronized smelled of the mingled foods, intoxicants and body odors of a few dozen different species as he slowly nursed his drink. The bar was the same type found on nearly every world with a major spaceport; dirty, dingy and poorly-lit, the local music from the live band an odd combination of high-pitch reedy woodwinds and a deep percussion, over-laided with cooing of the not bad looking female Rodian lead. This part of the galaxy wasn't Arik's idea of a good stop; for him, CorSec kept too tight a leash on things and on the rare occassion he could bribe his way out of trouble, they usually wanted three or four times what a similar 'donation' to an Imperial lackey would be. Unfortunately, he hadn't had much of a choice in the matter. His ship, a heavily modified Suwantek Systems TL-1800 transport named The Drunken Wookie, had developed a coolant leak, which not only caused him to burn fuel at nearly five times the normal rate, but also lead to a fire, forcing him to limp into port at sublight. He'd been a bit short on creds, forcing him into a situation of borrowing that was not... advantageous. However, it had allowed him to fix his ship and top off his tank; giving him the opportunity to run a couple short 'extra-legal' operations to way back the creds owed. He'd even gotten lucky; the recipient of one of his deliveries got pinched just before he dropped the cargo off, forcing him to sell it himself and make almost ten times what he was supposed to be paid. He'd paid back the loan, port fees, more fuel, even had some left over for minor modifications, consumables and some other minor bits & bobs.

Which was when the trouble started. his loan shark now claimed that Arik had ratted out the delivery target and owed him more money. Arik disagreed, and the gangster's emissaries had pulled on him, a mistake. He walked away; they didn't. He probably should have split the planet, but he felt he was on a streak of luck, and was loath to break that. So here he sat, in a shady bar who's name he never bothered noticing, in a small alcove off to the side, his back to the wall, slowly sipping his cool beverage as he bid his time until his next score. Arik stood at a hair over six-foot two, 180 pounds of lean, muscle, his dirty blond hair shaved into a buzz cut reminiscent of his time in the Imperial Army, although he mainly did it to keep it out of his hazel eyes. For the moment, he was dressed in dark green cargo pants, a thick leather utility belt, black combat boots, black undershirt and a tan jacket over it, which also covered the heavy blaster pistol he kept on his shoulder.

 

[501st]

It was a damn good lucky streak, that was for sure.

But luck went by many names across the galaxy, though few paid those stories any mind these days.

For most the Jedi and Sith had been a far-off concern -- the elite of the galaxy whose struggles existed far above the pay grade of the average butcher, baker, or candlestick maker. But a Jedi or Sith could come from any place, and it was always by the same avenue -- the Force. An omnipresent entity that decided the fate of everyone from kings to killers and princes to paupers. An entity that let one dodge that blaster bolt. Arrive just in time or just too late, avoiding issues either way.

And it came in many forms, too.

The light in a farm boy.

The dark in a pretty young thing in a black sleeve of a dress...

Vera Koliss clicked her way up to the bar and settled herself sideways into the seat beside Arik. She was exquisitely made up -- just subtle enough to make one think it might have been just her. She was slender, albeit possessed of finely curved hipbones and soft breasts. "Hi," she said, her voice downright sweet-sounding.

"What're you having, big boy?" And compared to her, he really was. She could have only been 5'6" once one took into account her heels and hair. She was a slip of a girl, and only had eyes for him right then.

 

[Gunner]

The moment Vera walked into the bar, every eye in the place (including Ariks') turned to her, seeming to size her up before turning back to their own business. There was suspicion, jealousy, confidence and not a small dose of carnal desires erupting in the dingy space upon her arrival.

Arik himself tracked her from the moment she entered, knowing she was trouble. He could tell at a glance that she didn't belong, and people who didn't belong didn't come to scum holes like this bar unless they were in trouble. Which meant that dealing with them was, itself, trouble. As she sat down next to him, he kept an almost immaculate sabaac face, not that it mattered to one like Vera. He was a microcosm of the emotions from the bar in general; suspicion, reluctance, hesitation and an undertone of arousal and desire emanating from him. In truth, she was everything he liked in women; thin with some curves, nice breasts, wavy red hair and barely-there freckles. And the cut of her dress... well, it was dangerous given her surroundings.

Arik made a show of looking over at her once she spoke, his eyes quickly traveling down then back up her form, his thoughts lingering on certain parts of her even if his eyes did not. He didn't say anything for several moments, his thoughts a rapidly moving jumble, before he turned back to watching the door.

"Not interested. I don't buy my company." he said, giving her the brush-off, having deciding that was the better option.

 

[501st]

And when Vera entered that bar, the average level of confidence skyrocketed. There was nothing but pride in her steps, elegance and confidence curving her spine and schooling her expression. Perhaps the most dangerous thing about her was her smile... unless one looked at her eyes. Sharp, bright and clear. Focused as a knife.

And they were all on him, sizing him up as openly as he did her.

He was strong -- she liked that in a man, someone larger and stronger than she. Well, physically at any rate. He was a soldier, that much she had learned from his dossier. Following his tenure in the armed forces the information became quite a bit sparser... but his latent sensitivity. Well. That much Vera could tell off-hand.

"And what if I was offering to buy you?" Vera asked with a sunny smile. She held up a finger and canted her head towards the bar. "Another of whatever this man is having, please. On here," she said as she slid a thin credit chit across the bar. She turned her attention back to Arik and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

"So, what may I call you?" Vera asked, settling her chin down on her dainty right hand, looking at him over well-manicured nails.

 

[Gunner]

The scowling bartender brought by a glass of a some local drink; a carbonated, non-alcoholic fruit juice. There was something about her that made him uneasy; something that set off red flags even if he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Arik. And I don't do companionship work. Try someone else."

And that was when his eyes darted to the door, a barabel and a weequay walked in, heading straight to the bartender. Arik cursed quietly and reached into his coat, the pop of a thumb-break disengaging was followed by the dull click of a safety disengaging, although he didn't draw the weapon. Not yet. He watched the pair as they conversed with the bartender, then started to search through the bar, drawing another curse from Arik. The pair were large, strong, and obviously armed. He stood up from his seat and shouted at them.

"I paid Grillak his money. I don't get shaken down for more; I don't give a feth about his inconvenience fee or whatever he calls it. I paid him the loan, plus interest. That's all he's getting."

The barabel started to reach for his pistol, but Arik was faster. In a blink he had his pistol out & aimed. A modified DH-44; a favorite due to it's high power and ease of modification. It's holographic sight reticle flashed into being as soon as it left the holster, letting him target with both eyes open, avoiding the loss of peripheral vision most sight cause. His first shot spun the barabel around, his second and third caught him dead center in the back, tiny flames licking the borders of the singed holes in his clothing as he dropped to the floor. Without missing a beat, his fourth and fifth shots hit the weequay center of mass while his sixth hit just below his eye, dropping him just as easily as the first.

He stepped over to the bar, slid the bartender a decently high-denomination cred chit for the trouble, returned to his alcove, downed the rest of his drink, and turned to the door, taking that as a sign that it was time to leave this rock.

 

[501st]

Vera laughed, and it was a musical sound. It wasn't at just his brush off and his attempt to leave... no, it came following Arik's equally casual murder of two foolish thugs that had asked questions with the intent of shooting later. They had to know by now that that simply wasn't how things worked.

"I never did say 'companionship,' Arik," Vera said as she pushed herself out of the stool. She moved with a sinuous grace, stepping easily over the bodies as if she was just trying to avoid puddles, not corpses. Something casual that she might have done a thousand times.

"Were you so distracted by how I looked that you didn't even think that there might be a job offer in here somewhere for you?" Vera asked.

She followed him all the way to the door, her arms crossed under her chest, her hips swaying slowly from side to side. "I want passage off this rock from a man who can make sure I get away safely. And your resumé is quietly smoldering on the floor behind us," Vera said. "Impressive work, by the way," she said. She was reaching out to him, thin fingers brushing across his shoulder as she treated him to a devilish little smile.

 

[Gunner]

Arik pulled the partially charged cell from the pistol, dropping it in a pocket and replacing it with a full one. After the shooting, the pistol was a hair over three quarters full, but if more of them were waiting at the dock, the extra six shots could make a big difference. He reholstered his pistol and stepped out into the waning light of the outside, pausing to look back at Vera. He had some definite misgivings about her, she was obviously more than she let on, and was in some sort of trouble if she came to this particular establishment looking for a lift and some muscle. Still, despite his misgivings, almost despite himself, he would allow it. And her touch sealed it. There was something in it, something more than just a simple touch, something he could only comprehend on a subconscious level, but something that made him want to keep her around for a bit longer.

"They you're in luck, because off of this rock is the only place I'm going." he said, almost reluctantly pulling away from her touch to head down the street.
"Three thousand credits gets you anywhere in the Corp Sector. Outside the sector is more. Half before you set foot on my ship, half when you disembark at destination, plus incidentals. And I only only take credits in hand. No transfers, IOUs, bartering, local currency or anything else." he explained as he led her down the streets & back alleys.

It was about a ten minutes walk at Arik's brisk pace to the ship's berthing, although Arik stopped her near the entrance to the bay, motioning for her to stay put. A quick glance around the corner confirmed his worries; a half-dozen shooters from the gang those leader thought he owed them money were gaggling around; some in a corner and some trying to crack the gangplank to his ship. He should've felt a twinge of fear or atleast anxiety, but instead all he felt was contempt. He slipped around the corner and shouted at them to gain their attention. It wasn't normally something he would; attract attention & give up the element of surprise, but he wanted them to see his face before they died.

His pistol came out and he put his first shot into a fuel cart, instantly taking out half their number in a furry blast. He stepped out from cover and put his next shot straight into the side of another's head. The next caught two in the chest, the over-powered bolts impacting right on top of each other and burrowing a hole straight through him. The last one got shot in the knee, severing the limb with a puff of vaporizing flesh & muscle.

Normally he would've let that go; generally the higher the body count the more negative attention from all parties concerned. But for some reason today he felt different. Their boss had tried to screw with him. They had tied to screw with him. With him. They had no idea who he was, and despite all the chances he had given them to simply let it go, they were simply too ignorant. Maybe this time they would figure it out. He took his time as he strode up to the man who was rolling on the ground clutching his stump before finally putting two shots into his skull.

He took a second to survey the scene then called for Vera. He pressed his hand to the access plate and the ramp descended allowing access, finally, to his ship. With the press of a button on the handrail of the ramp, he started the engines and ship's systems, a decent ten seconds of time saved as he ascended the ramp into his baby.