Private And I don't have fleas!

[Xochicalcu]

Equipment : Breathmask, Blaster
Location : Fighting Pits, Coruscant Underworld
Objective : Drink

The mood was subdued down in the Coruscant underworld, flickering lights cast shifting patterns across the crowded streets. The distant roar of a crowd grew louder as one approached the entrance of the fighting pit. The sound of fists meeting flesh, the clash of metal, and the raucous uncontrolled shouts of the crowd echoed out into the night.

Inside the place the volume was higher, with the crowd arranged around the pit, where two combatants circled one another striking and blocking, while the spectators jeered and shouted encouragement. There was a bar, the only part of the place lit apart from the blazingly bright lights over the fighting pit. It was a seedy sort of place, outside the usual legalities of the planet, run by the underworld and very much a den of scum and villainy.

Xochicalcu was enjoying a beer at the bar, sitting by himself, disinterested in the fights. He had fought more than once in the same ring, and had no interest in spectating the lower class of fighter on display tonight. He was here for the beer, which was fresh, cold, and on the house. This was, after all, his current workplace, though his work day was done. The bartender wasn't the usual one he was friends with, so he lacked even that modicum of conversation, and so sat in silent contemplation, content to let the world go by

Dash Ryken
​

 

[Dash Ryken]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIPMENT: Pistol
TAGS: Xochicalcu

"Well, that shots gonna hurt when he takes a leak," Dash said, leaning over the railing and staring down at the fighting pit.

Generally speaking, this sort of thing shouldn't be legal on Coruscant. Probably wasn't, but who was he to care about legalities? Growing up the way he had, more than once he'd made a quick buck trading blows with some guy. Usually, he'd taken the fall and then gotten a cut when the betting went the way the bosses wanted, but hey, it paid enough for him to eat and that was what mattered. Get flattened, eat a flatbread. Couldn't ignore the logic of it.

It was also a good way to blow off steam. Not that he had steam to blow off. Considering how much he ran his mouth it was incredible he hadn't been drummed out of the army. Either that or they liked him. Probably that. His unit was that Rough Rats, after all. Most of them were former scumbags who'd been given the opportunity to do time or serve in the army. Only their CO hadn't been some sort of low life in the past, but he was alright as far as Dash was concerned. Just doing his job.

The fight was getting stale, so he left the railing and went to the bar, sitting down next to some grampa who was whiling away a pint. Seemed a little grizzled, probably with some history with the place.

"What's the best they got, Gramps?" he asked, glancing at the man. "Prefer not to drink piss water, so hopefully they got something with some savoriness."

 

[Xochicalcu]

Equipment : Breathmask, Blaster
Location : Fighting Pits, Coruscant Underworld
Objective : Drink

Cheeky barve, was Xochicalcu's first thought. He gave the newcomer a once-over, not recognizing him as a local, and so he probably didn't know who was who around here. The old man chuckled, making his breath mask hiss, as he reached for his own drink. Beer, son. Ask for the local drop.

He leaned his large bulky frame back in his seat, taking a long pull of his own beer. Made in-house, it was crisp, fresh, and enjoyably intoxicating. This new fellow had the vibe of someone who didn't care too much what happened, when or where. Reminded Xochicalcu of how he had been as much younger and angrier man.

You can stick with Gramps, or call me Hoot. He said, mask hissing. He didn't care too much, or he'd have taken offense right at the beginning, that wasn't his way. He fought for credits, not for his own pride. The roars and cheers from the fighting bit echoed around the building, but he ignored them. Wasn't his fight, and he was here for the beer in any case. You got a name, unless you want me to call you Piss Water?

Another chuckle and a hiss of the breath mask. Xochicalcu said it with mirth, and a smile. He sipped at the beer, enjoying the cold beverage.

Dash Ryken
​

 

[Dash Ryken]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIPMENT: Pistol
TAGS: Xochicalcu

Face scrunched in acknowledgement and he held up a hand towards the barkeep, signaling for one beer.

"Hoot, huh? Interesting name," he said, not really caring all that much.

Old guy seemed decent enough, not taking offense to being called gramps or bothered by his choice in words. The breath mask was an interesting touch. Must have had some sort of breathing difficulty. Or maybe it was just the shit for air that the lower levels of Coruscant had. Quite literally the air was full of shit particles from critters and people. Downside of being down there, but he was so used to it that it didn't give him pause in the slightest.

"Dash," he said when asked his name. "Though Piss Water would be funny, I admit. Better than Shitstick. Been called that one before. Unimaginative cretin, the one that called me that. Pretty sure I broke his nose, though."

He shrugged and took the beer when it was set before him, taking a long swig of it before setting the cup down.

"So what's your draw to a place like this?"

 

[Xochicalcu]

Equipment : Breathmask, Blaster
Location : Fighting Pits, Coruscant Underworld
Objective : Drink

Hoot sipped his beer as the younger man gave good answers. He'd almost certainly been in the military given his relaxed approach to the nicknames that got thrown around in that environment. He could understand, having been tagged with all sort of names in his youth, when he had served. Dash is good. Better than Brick or Wall or Big Man. Got those a lot. Hey you was the most common. He chuckled and the breath mask hissed.

Been working here a few weeks. Xochicalcu said, honestly. He'd done some minor fights, bareknuckle bouts and some shock boxing. He was preparing for the deathmatch tournament next week, with a huge purse, after which he'd probably leave the area if not Coruscant itself for a while. That was the safest way to make money in these underworld places, and hold onto it afterwards. Once people saw what you could really do, you never got the good odds or good purses ever again, which he'd learned the hard way elsewhere.

The free beer was a nice perk, one he'd become accustomed to since his stay on Coruscant, something he'd miss more than the credits, the locale or the company, if he were honest. It was rare to run into anyone worth knowing in this line of work. Maybe thats why Dash was intriguing to Xochicalcu. If he had been a soldier, that put him into a better class of person than the local scum.

Dash Ryken
​

 

[Dash Ryken]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIPMENT: Pistol
TAGS: Xochicalcu

He snorted at the names the man gave. Half of them were more than a little familiar.

"Yeah, well, they call me Lippy most of the time," he said, taking another drink of the beer.

It wasn't bad, the beer. He actually rather enjoyed the taste of it. Most of the time they got something nasty at places like this one and you ended up wishing you hadn't been stupid enough to down several credits worth of drink that tasted worse than what your body later expelled. Granted, that really was the point, wasn't it? Drinking credits worth of swill to down your sorrows and kill a few braincells instead of dealing with the things that made you want to do it in the first place.

"Bouncer or a fighter? I'm thinking bouncer. No offense, Hoots, but you're a bit old to be throwing fists on the regular."

Yeah, he knew the gimmick. The fights were rigged. Every single one. You bet the right way, you win. The wrong way, you lose. And since they're always rigged, you never really know which is the right way to bet, which is what keeps the betting, in a way, somewhat honest.

 

[Xochicalcu]

Equipment : Breathmask, Blaster
Location : Fighting Pits, Coruscant Underworld
Objective : Drink

He didn't hear any complaints about the beer, though Xochicalcu hadn't expected to. It was the sole redeeming quality of this particular den of iniquity. It was interesting the way Dash got a read on him. Half right wasn't bad. He didn't mind, he really did look a bit old to be throwing down. That was part of how he made his bank. By the time people got the idea the old man could work, he'd moved on to fresher games. It was safer that way.

Can tell you've never been a bouncer. Rule one. Don't drink where you work. He took another pull of the beer and nodded towards the fighting pit as his breath mask hissed. Hoots would do. It wasn't worth being prickly over. Dash was an amusing sort, and had clearly seen some action somewhere. Enough that he got the old man's grudging forebearance.

So, what brings you down here? There was more he could have said; The place is safe enough, just don't play up. The bosses aren't tolerant types. The girls here were clean and wouldn't drug and rob you. The beer is a better choice than anything else.

You know that much, everyone knows that much, if they come down to this level and this sort of place. Even the total rubes, knew the underworld was run and controlled by nasty characters. Dash didn't strike Xochicalcu as a rube, he'd seen some. Xochi might look like a nasty character, and he did nasty things, and rubbed shoulders with some nasty characters, but he wasn't a bad guy. He'd try and give the kid decent advice if he could. After all, he'd recommended the beer and not the watered down faux Corellian whiskey.

Dash Ryken
​

 

[Dash Ryken]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIPMENT: Pistol
TAGS: Xochicalcu

"Only bouncing I've done is bad guys into a jail cell, or to the undertaker," he said, downing the rest of his beer.

He set the glass down and flagged the barkeep for another. Better than some of the stuff he'd had recently, and, quite frankly, the change of pace was refreshing. Soldier bar beer was generally always the same, and you only drank it because you wanted to get hammered after going through the meat grinder. He wasn't at one of those places, specifically because he'd been looking for entertainment, not for a place to get hammered for no reason. Hell, he could do that in the barracks as long as Sarge wasn't around.

Now what the old guy said actually meant he was a fighter. Interesting.

"Well, you've got me. Never would have guessed you could fight. Bet that's why you do it. You clean up well by getting people to underestimate you, don't you?"

He smirked and grabbed the new beer when it was set down on the bar.

"As for me, wanted something to watch that wasn't the usual muck. Gotta get away from time to time. Plus, it reminds me a bit of back home. Cheap way to make a buck, fighting. Especially when you're broke."

 

[Xochicalcu]

Equipment : Breathmask, Blaster
Location : Fighting Pits, Coruscant Underworld
Objective : Drink

Dash picked up on things pretty quickly, and the old man nodded along as the younger one fairly well picked up on Xochicalcu's game. And he'd given an honest enough answer. Honest enough that Hoots was happy to keep talking. He finished off his own beer and waved for another.

Doesn't usually pay to stay in one place too long. He observed. That was very true in the fight game. Especially if you had an angle. While you were looking to work people, they were looking to work you. Xochicalcu didn't believe in hanging around to find out. He lived on his ship, among droids. He hung out in the fighting pit bar because the beer was good and the locals left him alone. Sometimes you met interesting folks.

The other man had brought the subject of his own home up, and though X wanted to ask where home was, he did not want to answer that question himself, nor did he wish to think about home. For him home was his bunk aboard his ship. Anything else meant hope, and bad, bad memories. That led to more drink, and usually, trouble.

Dash Ryken
​

 

[Dash Ryken]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIPMENT: Pistol
TAGS: Xochicalcu

Dash snorted into his drink before taking another swig. Stuff was good, but it wasn't doing anything for him yet.

"Half the time you end up dead if you stay too long in one place," he said, setting his glass down a bit hard on the bar. "They wind up not liking you or thinking you've got too much game and so they kill ya and take back what they gave ya. Seen it happen too many times, especially when the ones they were killing didn't have anyone to care if they were gone."

A lot of good friends had been lost to him that way. It was reason enough for him to hook into a bad crowd to make a living doing things without ending up in the fighting ring. Smuggling was honest work amongst dishonest professions. You did the job, you got paid. Something happened along the way and the cargo was lost, you just paid them back and moved on. It sucked, but it was simple. What he hated about it was the dishonest people who were less than professional about it, and did things that made smugglers look bad even to the normal folk. Smugglers were supposed to be folk heroes.

He downed the rest of his drink but didn't immediately order another one, eyes moving past the old man to look around the place. Seemed alright, but he wouldn't spend a lot of time there.

"Why do you do it? Someone rope you into it? Debt to pay? Why not move into something that won't get you stabbed in the back in a dark alley?"