Broken City (you know who you are)

[Mala]

Mala’s ears went flat against her head at the tone in Hunters voice and she offered a sheepish grin at him. But he’d already turned away and was moving the bodies. Tucking the slingshot into her belt she shimmied down the nearest pipe and shuffled forward. Bright bullet casings littered the floor and her fear of admonishment vanished in a flash of excitement as she scurried about collecting them off the ground.

She stood watching the others, and shook water droplets from her fur before bouncing to Cato’s feet. “Mala found Hunter!” she beamed up at him like she’d just won a game of hide and seek. “And Mala found a Big Boss and his meatheads. Looking for someone, they is. Yes, yes, yes. Then meatheads found Hunter and...and…” ears drooped as she cast a glance around realisation dawning on the significance of a few heartbeats of gun fire, and the tone at which he had called her down. She took three very big steps back, which were not very big steps when you were less than a meter tall. She looked down at her feet.

“Hunter is angry with Mala.”

 

[Cato Fett]

“Because Mala knows better,” Cato grunted. He reached in spite of her mewl and flinch, taking her by a scrawny arm like an adult with a misdemeaning delinquent. Mala was deposited under the bus stop awning, out of the spiralling rain now leaking from the Upper City, turning the under-level dark with mist as balmy moisture fogs began rolling up the avenue. Denizens on foot were climbing into clear-plastic shawls and weather ponchos, unfurling cheap glowrod umbrellas. Raindrops spattered and ran across his visor.

She knows better and can’t help it and you’ll just have to make due as you always have, Cato knew. You didn’t ask for the responsibility of her keeping but you’re damned if you leave her to the wolves. Because her world is tiny, and you’re now part of it. He wiped water from his helm and turned to the speeder. The dead were still wallowing in their seats; thermals indicated cooling heat-spills. Plexiglass cracked under his boots, Cato glancing over the butchery. A young man in a fading trenchcoat and a patchwork of resewn orbital trends was suggesting either firing the car or further mutilating the bodies to throw off gang or police reprisals.

A finger? Was that all? It felt perversely simple and welcomingly archaic. Cato wrestled with the notion even as he drew his tanto and reached in through the ruined cabin. Three left middle-fingers were very neatly severed, then deposited down a nearby runoff storm drain. Distant thunder slowly rolled down the artificial city canyon walls. He wiped blood off in the rain, sheathed the knife, and returned to stand and loom over Mala. The bus was heaving up to the stop, in spite of an anxious crowd and death not even ten paces away, the speeder resting ajar over the curb. Cato glanced from his Squib, to Heron to Gib to Case. “…Wouldn’t hang about. Bus is going to the Midway. Bar’s are there, if any of you need a drink. Mala, come.”

[member="Mala"] [member="Gib"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Heron Graile]

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Mala"] [member="Gib"] [member="Case Li"]

The right patron could keep you alive in uncertain times, which these certainly were. You just had to know when to cut them loose and run. As people who lived near nature might say, there's always a bigger fish. Dinko ran her fingers through her hair nervously and tagged along.

She slipped into the hoverbus, avoiding the driver's three eyes. 'See no evil' was a tried and true principle around here. If he'd noticed the fight or the Mando cutting off fingers, he didn't indicate it. She brushed his arm while paying her toll and felt nothing suspicious. He'd missed the whole thing.

The bus was half full. She sold three more ampoules before the others boarded.

 

[Not Ordo]

The Or'zet hiked the strap of the heavy duffle higher on his shoulder as he quickly alternated looking at the ground and the hoverbus. He moved smoothly despite the heavy gear with the same steady stride that he kept in everything he put his mind to, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn't more than a little anxious.

"Pity about the rain." He said nervously as he fumbled with his blaster laden jacket to find his bus pass and presented it with a toothy smile, "A sure pity. How bout them Mantellian Savrips huh? In the play offs again. Got a helluva goalie, right?"

"Yeah. How about you grab a seat chief?" The driver said with a nod to the back of the bus.

"Right!" Gib said clearing his throat, "Of course. Taking a seat then."

He nodded and smiled to the other passengers as he passed toward an empty seat near his partners in crime.
'Sheesh, we did a crime.' He thought to himself just before he accidentally wacked a passenger in the shoulder with the big black duffle.

"Oh, jeeze!" He said as he leaned down and grimaced, "Sorry 'bout that, chum. Darn bag. Am I right?"

The man looked at the barrels of the blasters sticking of of the jacket and then wide eyed at the tusk like teeth and broad nosed face with it's sharp orange eyes.

"No harm done." The guy said with a wary edge in his voice.

"Gosh, still sorry chum." Gib said as he lifted the duffle high with one heavy hand, "Scuse me. Pardon. Pardon." He said as he made his way to a seat near the others.

He sat the bag down by his feet and cradled the other loose blasters wrapped in his jacket to his lap.

"I don't think they noticed nothin'." He said to the group in a hushed tone as he thought of all the prep he was going to have to do to pull off his next plan. "So, youse guys live around here? I live in 3000 block just a bit away. Gotta, give them koltos to this lady next door they stopped payin' for her meds, ya see? And yeah, then I got some leg work to do 'bout this thing, what needs doin'. Anyways. Grab a drink first, right?"

He stopped abruptly and looked up and to the left for a moment his mouth moving slightly as his fingers subtly pressed to his palm.

"Yeah, boy, I could use a quick drink." He looked around finally realizing he was talking to much and cleared his throat, "Yeah, pshooo, looong day."

He looked out the window and clamped his mouth tightly shut with a clack of thick tusk.

"Long day." He sighed to himself.

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Mala"] [member="Case Li"]

 

[Case Li]

Case followed onto the bus with quickness, keeping careful track of the Mandalorian and the Or'zet. As of seeing Thrax Case was a man on the run, and he felt safer with the two than without them.

"If you're coming I'll buy you a drink." Case said to [member="Cato Fett"] as he mentioned the thought of bars midway. "Give me a chance to properly thank you." Case said. He really didn't have the creds to be buying folks drinks, but thousands of levels down Case knew how it worked. 'Friends' were often less of friends and more of associates. Business partners. The best way to keep contact with someone was to provide value, and buying a drink was usually a good start. Force knew Cato had enough value to provide Case.

Meanwhile [member="Gib"] was in a bit of awkward straights. The situation made him uncomfortable. Poor guy. He was an honest sort, or an honest enough sort. He'd imagine the creature would probably have a good life on a farm world somewhere, if only he wasn't born on Taris. Poor guy. He finally sat down with Case and Cato, agreed to a drink and mentioned it was a long day. Case nodded, and looked over at the mando for a moment for reassurance, and saw the cold emotionless T-visor and turned his head back to Gib.

"Hey man, it'll be fine." Case said, and put an arm around the beast's shoulders, before coming closer and lowering his voice to a whisper. "Now, I'm not gonna tell you what to do. But if you wanna get rid of that beef I know a guy twenty levels down who'll give you a fair price. 100 for the sliders and 200 for the full burgers. It's yours, and I'm not gonna push you, but I can make it happen if you want me to." Case said, and then gave Gib a bit more of a respectful distance.

Friendship was all about providing value. For the more privileged that might mean an ear that'll listen, but down in the undercitys below the megacorps it usually meant credits, spice, booze, arms, or connections. If I have anything to offer, I"m not gonna let these two go.

[member="Heron Graile"] [member="Mala"]

 

[Mala]

Mala sulked under the awning, leaning against the stop and twirling a bullet casing between her fingers, paying no attention to the clean up going on around her. She sniffed, rubbing at her eyes as the bus drew level with her and Cato beckoned. “No.” she said pointedly turning away from him. But he didn’t stop to try and haul her aboard and it took a heartbeat to realise she was going to be left behind if she didn’t. She let out a panicked squeal and leapt onto the bus behind the others.

She scrambled over the nervous one and tusked ones laps, careful not to trigger the weapons he held tightly there and stood on Cato’s knees, pressing her face to his t-visor. “Mala found shiny’s.” she clamped his helmet so he couldn’t look away, because this was of utmost importance. “Good shiny’s too. Look! See!” she leaned back, trusting Cato entirely to stop her from toppling into the people in front of them and pulling a fist full of credits from her pockets and placing them deliberately in his gauntlet.

It was the only way she knew how to say sorry.

Ears twitched, and her fur ruffled tasting the air and the new people they were with. “Mala check.” she asked Cato. When they had first met, she’d been used to case people, assess whether they were worth what they claimed to be. She didn’t wait for him to confirm, before moving herself into Case’s lap. She seized his face the same way she’d seized Cato’s helmet. “What is it?” she asked pointedly.

[member="Case Li"] [member="Gib"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Cato Fett"]

 

[Cato Fett]

Cato weighed the handful of bent peggats before depositing them in a shallow pocket just underneath his combat vest. Little Mala operated according to strange but well-finessed logic, that she could almost do no wrong until her cavalier exploits drew her keeper’s ire. He didn’t believe in invincible luck, always working to ensure their fortunes were propped with hard work and reliable coin. She was allowed to thieve, scavenge, pinch, and pawn, because her nature allowed for nothing else. He could not make her sit, could not make her behave, and could not order or discipline Mala unless she made the concession that he may. The Squib was enough to put a Warmaster on edge. One day, Cato was certain, she would drag him along for an adventure of deep, deep trouble.

He never let on how much she was privately adored.

His visor turned to a passenger window. Hologram light flared, warped by the curve of the black visor glasteel. Advertisements bombarded the bus’s fuselage. Pastel and neon dancers turning in the rain with pre-programmed grace, enticing tired eyes and bodies that didn’t want to cajole for a slice of beauty or closeness. Brand sigils, aurebesh characters constructed with hard light, drawing attention to a new brand of synthohol designed for either the chic, the rugged, or the daring. Music gored notes through the sopping night air. Halogen-lit umbrellas and multi-coloured rain ponchos strobed by along the flooding sidewalks. Cato watched teenagers kiss and embrace in half-lit alleys, noted the crowds of bowed sararimen trundling in herds through traffic stops, law-enforcement droids cracking down on youth gangbangers trying to start a row outside some preeminent club.

Unseen arteries of cash flow swam behind the business facades. It all lead elsewhere, up and up, Cato knew. The power the megacorps and zaibatsus wielded because of it was so foreign to Mando’ade notions of strength. Their influence was vast, insidious, their war chests choked beyond reckoning, seeded into virtually every financial and economic institution that mattered, from the Outer Rim straight through the dense Core worlds. Sentient life orbited their brands, and were thusly supported, for sheer cash gain.

Warriors like him. Workers like Gib. Hustlers like Heron and Case. Little thieves like his Mala. All were anathema to the corporate interest. For their survival, Cato believed, the corporate interest had to be destroyed. Utterly.

“Don’t mind her,” Cato said across to Case. Mala kept her balance bobbing on his knees with the bus suspension. “Just wants to know if you’re ‘icky’ or not.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csYjk5m4_PY​

​

[member="Mala"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Gib"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Heron Graile]

[member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Gib"]
Dinko turned around and rested her elbow on the back of the seat row. "Oh, he's icky all right." She grinned at Case. "Slippery as they come, a real survivor. Bet he's got a great deal on a secondhand chrono. Not that I'm complaining: I like doing business with folks who know how to keep the money moving. So I guess I'm icky too. Dinko Graile - nice ta meet ya."

The bus kept ambling on. She reshuffled her bag and tucked it into her lap. Of the original eighteen ampoules, she had enough kolto for emergencies, and enough credits for next month's rent. Apart from the brush with death and the finger issue, today had turned out pretty well. A good drink might settle things even better.

"What about you folks? Feeling like introductions?"

 

[Not Ordo]

Gib sat still as the humie put his arm around him and said something about beef a burgers. He blinked a few times his mouth forming the words he wanted to say soundlessly as he considered the idea.

"Hundred cred fer a slider?" Gib said as the man slipped back to a normal distance, "Someone should by burgers up here and sell them down there. You can get two for five sliders at McYodas every Taungsday. Man, that's a good profit."

Gib sat thinking about why someone hadn't cornered that market ages ago. He knew things got worse the farther down you went in the city but he didn't know it was that bad.

His thought process was interrupted as the furry blue thing hopped across him and onto the Mandalorian. Gib cocked his head as the little creature grabbed the warrior's head and spoke to him in utter seriousness before slipping something to him. The small blue creature turned and bounced like a rubber ball across to drop onto the human's lap and asked what he was. Gib couldn't tell you why but the idea that it had to be young stuck in his head and he felt himself chuckle.

Gib was about to say he had been asking himself that question for years when the lady saleswoman turned and replied to the Mandalorian's remark about whether the man was "icky".

Gib chuckled again. She was a fast talker and no mistake. He looked at her and her sure manner, long hair and slender frame even the lower end implants gave her a kind of, lone flower in an empty junk lot sort of appeal...in a fraile smooth skin sort of way. He pondered through a thought and tucked it away as he changed mental tracks to introductions.

"I'm Bengi, but everybody just calls me Gib." He said as he looked around at the semi friendly faces, and helmet, "I'm a temp. I do warehousing for MandalMotors, Janitorial, they say it's sanitation but cleanin' is cleanin' is cleanin' right? But that's at MandalTech. I do part time labor at some ATC partner on the weekends. I used to be maintenance but they all want a degree to get your hands dirty nowadays. Whatcha gonna do though, ya know?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Anyways, I just got off a ten hour shift before I bumped in to youse guys." He thought about the sliders again and picking some up. "That drink sounds better every time I think of it."

[member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Case Li]

If Case were a nihilist college student or a prepubescent school girl he might have said "a part of him died inside" when he heard [member="Gib"] mention McYoda's, but the grifter saw nothing but opportunity. It was raw opportunity, he wouldn't deny it, but opportunity nonetheless.

"McYoda's doesn't quite have the 'beef' he's wanting, but you've got some good thinking. You stick with me and I'll teach you some things hun-oof?" He said, right before a near-meter tall ball of blue fur found it's way onto his lap. She then grabbed her hands around his head, stretching her fingers wide to lower fingers under his chin and upper fingers into his hair. Her eyes focuses on him with equal parts intensity and curiosity.

"What is it?" She asked as her claws began to dig into his scalp.

"Don't mind her." A deep and synthesized voice from the Mandalorian. "Just wants to know out if you're 'icky' or not." Case heard the mandalorian continue and let out an audible laugh. The Zeltron a seat in front of them got ahead of the conversation. Case was 'icky', and Dinko knew it.

"She's right." Case replied, while looking at the furry squib. "Name's Case Li." He said, while taking a hand and shuffling through the top of the Squib's head, almost like ruffling through a human's hair. "Now who are you?"

[member="Mala"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Gib"]

 

[Mala]

"Kaysilly?" She giggled which turned into an abrupt snarl as his hand moved for his head. Invasion of personal space only went one way and the mandalorian reacted quicker than she could bite, snatching her back into his own lap. She didn't need to see his face to know he was scowling at her.

Mala grinned twisting in his grip to face the woman with the funny smelling stuff. "Dinko." She repeated with a soft giggle. "Dinko dinko dinko." The name rolled off her tongue causing immense delight. Bright yellow eyes settled on Gib and she squirmed in Cato's grasp with a desperate mewl. Oh how she wanted to see those tusks up close.

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Case Li"]

 

[Cato Fett]

He gave Mala a handful of slack before prosthetic fingers cinched onto her scruff. Cato pulled the Squib deeper onto his lap and kept her belted down with his arm. The lid of his helmet tapped onto the peak of her little, furry skull and hinted her keeper’s displeasure. Nothing grave. But her favourite meal was in jeopardy, dessert outright cancelled. If she cajoled hard enough, perhaps she’d receive a bedtime story. He knew her favourites were the Shadow Warriors dressed in volcanic ash, entire armies fighting in suffocating darkness. And winning. Cato looked up through the bus’s forward windshield. Their stop was in the next hundred paces, as more bodies waited huddled under the lit bus-stop awning. It was a puddle of colour against glossy night.

“Ah-ah,” Cato chide and kept Mala anchored on his waist belt. The bus sloughed to a slow halt, and the driver pulled the controls for the door. A handful of less-than-trendy bars waited down the street before the neighborhood turned to hab-blocks. He looked to the others in their seats; Dinko was only half buckled down and had her satchel pack ready, Case all but lazing against the upholstery, Gib weighed under his loot and almost blissful at the prospect of a good pawn. A beat passed and he decided. “Three doors down, there’s a quiet pub with drink. Food if you want it. And they don’t mind if you just want out of the rain. Come, or don’t.”

He tucked Mala’s squirming bulk under his arm like mail packaging and stepped out of the bus, onto the sidewalk.

[member="Mala"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Gib"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Heron Graile]

[member="Gib"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"] [member="Cato Fett"]

What a crew. Gib, sincere and pragmatic and maybe a bit slow; Case, quick and slick and sketchy as feth; Mala, young and dumb and scampy; Cato, the textbook semi-retired hardcase with a beloved ward. And then there was Dinko, whose contribution to the group seemed to be mainly kolto and mild snark. Not the best way to secure one's value or stand out as a person.

She padded along after Cato and Mala, and ducked into the pub behind them. A warm and comfortable smell hit her like a delicious sledgehammer made of clouds. Credits jingled in her pocket in a liberating way. She slid into a booth and began poring over the dog-eared menu. When was the last time she'd eaten at a place like this? How much would she regret spending eight on a sandwich?

She eyed the group and figured there was more to gain than a full stomach. "Appetizer platter," she said to the table's curvy holowisp. "Big enough for everyone. Put it on mine."

 

[Not Ordo]

"Come or don't." He mumbled to himself as he hastily picked up his gear and thought about how rough and tumble the Mandalorian sounded when he talked. Gib wondered how he must sound to a group like this. Not too bright, probably. He quit school at twelve and entered the workforce so they wouldn't be far from the mark, if so. He didn't mind that though. He did right by his brother and sister. No regrets. They would be something, somewhere off the streets of Taris and he'd always have that, always.

He left the bus, without bumping anyone this time, and followed after the group. The street was wet from the rain. Old decomposing trash dotted the duracrete in places, some fresh, some nothing but grey lumps of what they had been. The neon glow above from various corps advertising their wares shown on the slick ground as he listened to the sound of their sloshing footsteps. As, if the corps needed to advertise. Everyone and their mother had to buy from them anyway, or turn to street salesmen like Case or Dinko. Gib liked them well enough but they were trying to find a come up just as much as the corps did really. The only difference was the corps would geek a baby for a cred, these folks seemed better than that, he hope, anyways.

He followed them into the pub, dim light mixed with the haze of smoke and stale spilled booze but the savoury smell of bar food washed away most of the stink of bodies in need of a trip home for a sanisteam. Gib, stuck out his lower lip and blew a puff of air up at his nose to clear it some before tucking himself in beside the reddish girl. He stuffed most of the weapons down at his feet and took a slug pistol and slid it into his pocket as Dinko ordered.

"Wow, that's mighty nice of ya, Dinko." He said genuinely thankful, "Mighty nice."

He looked at the arubesh writing on the menu and tried sounding out the words under his breath then just put it down and slid it away.

"Just a beer with that and a few extra wings." He said as he fumbled out some extra credits, before he leaned toward the Mando, "Can the kid have a treat, or no? I don't wanna spoil diner or nothin'."

He sat quiet for a minute as he thought about the bag of weapons and the crates of stuff the one corp had. One crate could pay rent and feed his whole floor for a month. And those companies didn't care for nobody. Nobody but themselves. Even the employees were just expendable tools. Always another waiting to take a spot.

He smiled as he beer arrived with the apps and wings. He blew at the foam on top and took a careful sip that left a foam mustache on his upper lip.

"So, I figure," he began oblivious to his new mustache, "I didn't do nothin for this gear besides grab it. So maybe we can divide it up? I want somethin' for protection, just in case, cuz this corp I worked at this mornin' has some stuff on their loading dock what would feed my whole floor for ah month and pay the rents, right? And, I'm sore with them people. Get's under your skin when ya see people with a suit what could feed an orphanage that couldn't care less."

He lifted a fist and wanted to slam it down but set it back down slow, his mouth working as he fought not to get angry as he thought more and more about it.

"Sorry, sorry guys." He said as he took a wing and started to eat it slowly, "It ain't right, is all. Ain't even close."

[member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Cato Fett"]

 

[Case Li]

Case followed along as 'the gang' began to make it's way into restaurant. Passing through the pouring rain and the ever-bright neon signs and holo-advertisements they moved quick enough to stay reasonably dry. The bar was a nice enough place, nice enough to hit them with an aroma of cooked food rather than death sticks, cheap perfume, or vomit. Case fumbled through his pocket, did he have the credits for this place? Measuring the weight of the stuff in his pocket he figured he did, sort of.

"Get the Mandalorian a drink and put it on my tab." Case said to one of the holo-waitresses.

"No tabs." The holo-waitress said curtly.

"No tabs?" Case replied a bit incredulously, but pulled out the credits. "Pay for his first drink, a shot of juma juice, and." He stared at the menu. 8 Creds for a sub? Skywalker, what a price. "The soup." Case finished as he got to his seat. Dinko ordered a platter of appetizers, the kolto-high roller over there.

"Thank you Dinko." Case said, as Gib leaned over to whisper to the Mando. He didn't hear the particulars of the conversation, wasn't eavesdropping, but it seemed endearing. The drinks came soon, along with the appetizers. One of those 'little bit of everything' type deals, with stuffed mushrooms, wings, celery sticks, and a couple other dishes Case didn't recognize. None of it was real obviously, nobody on the levels this low had cash for real produce, but it was good stuff. He went for a mushroom first, then the celery, sipping the Juma Juice occasionally. Then [member="Gib"] began talking about what to do with the blasters.

"No, you've got it Gib. It ain't right." Case replied, and then took out a pen. There were two types of pens in the galaxy, the artwork fountain pens richer beings used, and then the cheap crap people like Case used because they couldn't afford a datapad.

"It ain't right at all. These crates have enough value to feed your and your floor." He scrawled some numbers on his napkin. If he had to bet, the dock worker's floor had anywhere from 20-50 doors and probably went 150-250 credits a door. Put food expenses at 6-10 credits a day, because people were broke but also had families. Which meant a single crate went for at least 3K, if not up to 10K or 12K.

"These guys, they have enough credits. Credits to spare, but they won't even pay security enough to make you feel safe. Do they at least put in some cameras so they can call the cops if somebody jumps you?" Case said, gathering information and warming Gib to the idea. He was sure [member="Heron Graile"] knew what he was doing, and would want in. [member="Cato Fett"] probably knew it too, but approve may have been a different story. Hopefully he wouldn't try to stop him, Case needed the credits. It was dang hard to judge a guy in a helmet. If anything he might walk away, on account of his little ward [member="Mala"] . Then again, it was another mouth to feed.

 

[Mala]

Mala squirmed until she was deposited onto a booth bench and penned in by Cato as he settled down next to her. She bared her teeth at him, expressing her annoyance with a sharp smack to the front of his visor before slipping under the table as the others shuffled in around them. She stayed there until the smell of food drew her back up, hunger outweighing her annoyance at Cato's refusal to allow her free reign.

She watched them all with keen eyes, ears twitching at their conversation as she helped herself to food and giggled softly at the moustache on Gib's mouth. A sideways glance at her Hunter was more than enough to know she was still on a short leash, so she resisted the urge to climb over the table and fix it for him. Not that fixing it was ever her goal in the first place, but it would've been a good excuse.

She snatched a mushroom from the platter and sat back listening. "Thieving." she said simply, a glint in her eyes as though she talked more at the food in her hand than at the people around them. "Mala's good at thieving." She popped the mushroom into her mouth chewing slowly, leaning against Cato, her feet resting on the wall. She knew exactly where this conversation was going, she might have been socially inept, but she'd been around gangs, pirates and thieves most of her life. She tilted her head back to look up at Cato. "Helping?" she asked.

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"] [member="Case Li"]

 

[Cato Fett]

A clay bowl settled before Mala to take her mind off the conversation, and give Cato a moment’s thought. It was linguine swimming in hot cream-of-mushroom, with fat meatballs, sliced and caramelized onion with garlic shavings, topped with melted pepperjack to lend some textured heat. He pushed a small fork to Mala’s paw; her eyes were bright, bulging, and not nearly so big as her stomach. The table-side talk fired through his brain.

There was a thousand in chequing, savings stripped and exhausted, invoice reminders arriving almost daily via H-mail that were beginning to pile with urgency. His squat shuttle lacked insurance paperwork atop of every other strained matter of finance. Work in the Undercity was abysmal, paid abysmally, and demanded investments of effort and blood that held no guarantees of return. Taris was close to swallowing them. Cato undid the strapping beneath his chin and sat his helmet down on his lap. Neat, greying hair ended in a short queue above an angular face scar-lined and craggy.

“How much could we take from them in a night that they’d replace in a minute?” Cato asked, more rhetorically. “…I need coin too. Very badly. Money is contemptible but it’s all I’ve fretted over for so long. If we can secure a decent take… Sure. I can… help out.”

[member="Mala"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Gib"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Heron Graile]

[member="Cato Fett"] [member="Mala"] [member="Case Li"] [member="Gib"]

"A planner, quality unknown. No offense. Two kinds of muscle. A set of quick little hands. A fairly crappy medic who can see through walls. I, uh..."

Dinko let out a long, slow breath and popped a stuffed mushroom into her mouth. After a solid week of bad luck and bedjies, it tasted like heaven.

"And it's all insured, no doubt about it. We've got the right pieces. We work half decent together in a pinch. We could pull it off. I think I'm in."

 

[Not Ordo]

He sucked the synthmeat of the bones of another wing, the sticky reddish sauce painted his lips and fingers with their self-same hue. He hadn't had even tgis close to good food in more than a month. Nutrinoodles were all well and good once and a while, but he preferred at least a little flavor. He wiped his fingers on a napkin, took a drink then popped a breaded cheese stuffed pepper into his mouth and chewed.

His big orange eyes rolled in their sockets as he groaned approval of the combination of sweet and spicy that he had never tried before. How he hadn't heard of those little treats before he couldn't say but they were amazing. Crumbs fell on his shirt and he brushed them off with the tips of his thick fingers before he took another drink.

"Oh they have cameras." He said as he wiped his fingers on a napkin and tried another appetizer, "They have blind spots though. The guys always go into the blind spots to smoke on their break, so they don't have to go down the street."

Gib scratched a pointed ear and reached for a mushroom this time and stuck it on the end of one tusk then crossed his eyes at Mala before he tossed the mushroom into his mouth.

"The problem is the droids that they got in the loading area." He shook his head, "They got blasters and got programmin' to shoot first and ask questions never. I thought about how we could bridge the terminals on one of the power boxes across the street. I could make a poor beings emp wave, if we get the right terminals, but I mean, that was for me goin' alone. Bet they don't teach that in no big school though, so maybe the droids would shutdown for a bit, while wees get in and out. I just wanted a weapon in case I had to scare somebody."

[member="Case Li"] [member="Mala"] [member="Cato Fett"] [member="Heron Graile"]

 

[Case Li]

A warm smile crept it's way unto Case's face. The Mandalorian was in, which mean muscle, Dinko was in, which meant more contacts. Gib knew what was going on, which meant a way inside, and the Squib was in, which meant general sneakiness. Or trouble. Hopefully not trouble.

"So, the only security are some battle droids and some cameras. You know the blind spots, so you'd know the layout right?" Case said, then took out a clean napkin, folded it out, and began writing some directions on the top. "Gib, I need you to make us a map. We need to know a few things. Where to get in, where the cargo is, where the blind spots are, what paths the droids might use to get to us, and where we need to go afterwards to get outta dodge. If you know what routes the droids patrol that'd be great too." Case said, writing the necessary lists 1-5, putting the patrol routes as a bonus. If he was very lucky [member="Gib"] would know all of them, but most guys didn't pay attention to all of that unless they were already 'in the business' so to speak.

"You said you can jury-rig an EMP, so we need to either get you a terminal or get you too a terminal." Case said, still impressed at the Or'zet's knowledge. He was also somewhat doubtful of it, but worse comes to worse the Mandalorian could probably shoot through a few battle droids with Case, Dinko and Gib helping along. Hopefully Gib and Dinko were better shots than he was though, Case was no allstar.

"These crates are probably heavy right? So we'll want a truck. If any of you can get us a truck, even for a day, that'll probably be the difference between us walking out with two crates or twelve." Case said. He figured [member="Heron Graile"] might have a connection. Case did too, but he was a loan shark that was quite a stickler about the interest. [member="Cato Fett"] might have had access to something too, but Case didn't know how invested he was in the streets.

Synthelery dipped it's way into some imitation of ranch dipping, before being crunched in Case's mouth. He took a couple more bites, swallowed, and used the half-bitten synthelery to direct as he spoke. He was one of those people that moved his hands and whatever was in them while he talked.

"So we need the map, we need a truck, and we'll need a buyer when it's all said and done. Am I forgetting anything?" Case said, 'opening up to the floor' as it were.

[member="Mala"]