A ball of yarn

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond C’artyom walked the streets of Mos Espa warily. Ever since the attack by the ORC things had proven… Difficult. Several rebel cells followed in the Outer rim coalition's footsteps, attacking Imperial bases and ambushing Imperial troopers. Inferno One had been tasked with rooting out these cells, but after a long tour, they received word that they were to be relieved of duty. Desmond thanked the force as he and his men were taken off patrol of this backwater planet and scheduled to be transferred to a new location. But, that still left them with quite a bit of down time.

So as Desmond meandered through the back alley ways of the cityscape he wandered to an old hole in the wall. A dive called the Tusken’s Bantha. Blaster scorch marks lined the outside walls, it had sticky floors that seemed one chemical away from coming to life, Half the tables were knocked over or broken, Most the chairs did not match and the patrons were just as hardy. A conglomerate of multiple different species and spacers.

Desmond often came to this joint for information on any rebel attacks that might be incoming. But, today he was simply another patron. He walked to the filthy bar counter and immediately received the bartender's attention. The man walked towards Des with a large smile splayed across his face.

“Dessy!” He shouted merrily, then added more quietly “You need more information?”

Desmond shook his head and replied “No, just her for a drink,” Desmond said in his rich Imperial accent.

“Alright. Hair of the dog?” The man asked and Desmond nodded. The bartender poured him up a drink and set the frothy ale down on the counter. “I’ll tell you this free of charge. There’s a Felecatian here that seems mighty suspicious,” He said as in a low whisper.

Desmond merely nodded as he picked up his drink. Desmond was off duty, so officially it wasn't his problem. But, a wrenching feeling in his gut told him what he knew he had to do.

[member="Muri"]

 

[Darth Athora]

Piles and piles of scattered junk lay sprawled out on the table in front of Muri. Scraps from speeder bikes, pieces of race pod's engines, and some old starfighter engine parts rested before her. But, in her eyes, there was not rash. All she saw were the possibilities she could come up with as she looked at the parts. With each piece, she formulated how she could use them to improve her starship. She lifted up what appeared to be a power converter for an old Y-wing. After some close examination, the human who was running the shop spoke up. "This ain't a library, kitty. Either buy somethin' or get lost." he said in a rather gruff voice.

"How much for this?" she asked, holding the converter up to him.

"Gonna be 100 credits." he replied with a smirk.

"100? You must be joking. You don't even know what this is." she replied in a slightly aggravated tone.

"I know it's 100 credits. Take it or leave it." She reluctantly slid him a credit chip worth 100 credits. "Pleasure doing business with ya.". He flashed a toothy grin as she walked away, placing the converter in her bag. Muri continued on through the market, looking at the various stalls that were about, searching for more pieces she could tinker with.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond C’artyom finished his drink and made his way outside the shoddy bar. He was searching for, hell if he knew. A Felcatian he supposed. Last time he had dealt with their kind he had been drugged, tortured and then watched them rip each other to pieces as they turned into feral beast. It was a mess, not one he was looking to repeat. So, he’d be more wary this time. His hand drifted to his pocket and withdrew a pack of death sticks. He casually stuck one in his mouth and lit it.

Puffing away on the toxic smoke he was immediately blessed with a buzz. He stuck the pack back in his pocket and felt round for something else. His holdout stun gun. Feeling it in his pocket was reassuring. Not that he thought he’d use it. It was simply nice knowing it was there. Especially in this neighborhood. Desmond made his way through the broken alleys, idly puffing his spice cigarette when he came across a market filled with scrap.

He dotted on one thing than moved to the next, like a kid in a candy shop. His pod needed new parts and he was certain to find them here. Desmond was walking around with a pile of scrap in his hands, scarcely able to see over the towering junk, whenever he accidently bumped into [member="Muri"] . Scrap and junk went flying all over the place and Desmond landed right on his rump.

“I sincerely apologize,” Desmond said in his rich Imperial accent as he began fumbling around the ground picking up the pieces.

 

[Darth Athora]

Muri hit the corner and immediately got a face full of metal as someone had ran into her. Muri quickly fell to the ground onto her butt. She groaned as she rubbed her head, her ears twitching as she became flustered. "Ugh," Once she looked at the chiss responsible, Muri pushed herself back to her feet. "Watch where your goin' next time, yeah?" Muri dusted ff her backside and readjusted the strap of her sack back to a comfortable position.

Without bothering to help the man, Muri walked off in the direction she was headed before, her tail whipping behind her.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

[SIZE=11pt]Desmond grimaced at the young woman as she spoke. She was a rude little feline who needed her mouth washed out with soap. But, even as Desmond thought about walloping her something seemed off about the situation... Desmond was just about to give her a piece of his mind when he realized what seemed so strange to him. She was a Felcatian. Desmond’s hand froze over a piece of scrap and for a moment he simply sat there. Than with more finesse than a cat he shot to his feet. The Chiss didn't even bother to brush himself off as he charged after the girl. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Hey you! I need you to come with me,” Desmond stated mildly.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He reached into his dirty pants and withdrew a badge which declared him as part of Imperial intelligence.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Muri"][/SIZE]

 

[Darth Athora]

Muri checked her bag to make sure that Chiss wasn't trying to pull a fast one and grab some of her gear. It was a simple method used by pickpockets and thieves throughout the galaxy. Nothing was missing as far as she could tell. One of her ears flicked back as he tried to stop her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. "Sorry. I have a appointment." she replied as she continued walking off.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

[SIZE=11pt]Desmond stopped, sputtering at Muri’s reaction. He was not used to such abrasiveness. Especially when he was holding up a badge proclaiming him as part of Imperial secret service. Hell, usually people coward in fear and he was the abrasive one. But, even so Desmond was determined to bring the woman in for questioning. The lives of countless Imperials could depend on it. But, he decided to try a different tact. He dusted himself off and approached the woman again, smoothing out his eyebrows as he did so. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Pardon my abruptness, that was rude of me. Can I buy you a drink?” He said in his rich Imperial accent.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Hopefully she would take the bait. Then maybe Desmond could get some answers out of her...[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Muri"][/SIZE]

 

[Darth Athora]

Muri really did not trust this guy. Not only did he run into her rudely, but he flashed his Imperial badge like he was some kind of man of importance. If he was, Muri didn't give two feths about it. Her ears perked up at the offer of drinks. "Well, I suppose you could buy me a couple drinks." She turned back around and walked over to him. "Lead the way." she said, playfully.

She'd get a few drinks but she wasn't planning on listening to whatever he had to say to her. She hadn't done anything wrong. Recently, at least. Maybe he was trying to bed her. She wasn't interested in that. She just wanted to get back to her shed and mess with her gear.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"]