Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Greedy Old Men I [ATTN: CSA]

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The Corellian Bolt
Landing on Cato Neimodia

--

Zef crossed his arms leaning back on his cockpit seat with his legs on top of the controls of the ship. He needed one final stretch of relaxation before Daro Tarsi fething tossed him into another of his insane and incredibly ambitious plans. Robbing a bank, wasn't it? Robbing a fething bank on fething Cato Neimoidia.

Why?
Well, credits. They made the galaxy expand. Endlessly. Right?

Right?

Sure thing but why was good ol' Zef doing this crazy chit on this fethin' age? The older he got the bigger the risk he'd end up rottin' in the cell for no good reason at all. Was it avarice? Avarice really was what drove him when he was young but now? Was it Joza? She was doin' a'ight as far as he knew. His two grandchildren (heck they sprung out of nowhere like rabbits)?

Maybe, yeah? If he got himself a good fortune then his grandkids and their grandkids and their grandkids' grandkids wouldn't struggle. Maybe that was the reason.

Or maybe the reason was a question - Why not? Heck, according to Zef, that was Daro's prime motivation, always had been.

The freighter floated freely on auto-pilot through the middle of the constant fog heading down towards one of the docks. When was the last time he was on Cato? Probably years ago. A fading memory of a smuggling run roams in his mind briefly before the scoundrel shoves it away to focus on what was happening right now.

"Run this chit again for me, Tarsi. Even if listening to it again 's gonn' drive me karkin' crazy."

He was too old for this chit.


[member="Daro Tarsi"]
 
The Admiralty
Codex Judge
[member="Zef Halo"]

"Ey, ya liked it fine when I told ya about it last night, eh? Dun' worry so much." Daro drawled lazily as he peered through the viewport and watched the landing platform approach rather quickly. Ugh. He took a swig from his flask before offering it to Zef for a quick pick-me-up. If he tried to yank it out of his hand, Daro would quickly pull it out of reach. "Listen' 'ere, ya fig, if ya steal dis one I will punch ya lights out, dig?" Then and only then would Daro let it leave his hand and pushed himself off his chair.

A stretch there.

Bones creaked and whined a bit.

"Ya make me feel old, babe," A sigh there before they strutted out of the ship. Into the air and there Daro breathed in heavily, feeling the air going in an' out. "Better." Softly murmured as the scale of the spaceport was once again underlined for him.

Say whatcha want about Commenor... but Cato Neimodia was a fethin' purse world for sure.

"Alright, so, we walk in- ya feign a heart attack an' we get pulled into a private room while we wait for da medic. Knock out da security officer, take 'is keys an'..." Truth to be told they had been drunk as a fether when they discussed the plan last night. He couldn't actually remember the next stage of the plan. Neither could he remember if there had been a next stage or if that was basically it for them. Once you had a few (and they had far more than a few) every plan sounded good, no?

"Will let ya know the next part once its going."

An awkward cough there as he started to walk, refusing to look him in the eye.
 
Sitting at her desk on the top floor of Heartbeat House’s Zeltros headquarters, Joza sifted through her inbox as she separated legitimate messages from junkmail.

Sheltered Acres Retirement Home—Helping Seniors Live Comfortable Lives

She paused, eyes lingering over the ad for an assisted living facility as she briefly entertained the idea. In the end, Joza decided that the amount she would be paying in property damage and emergency room bills wouldn’t be worth the credits.

Into the trash it went.
 
Zef went for the flask only to receive an alcoholic's threat. The smuggler grumbled underneath his breath and soon followed the loud arse retiree off the ship moaning something along the lines of 'i am too old for this chit'.

"You ARE fethin' old, old as fethin' dirt, Daro Tarsi." Zef scoffed. "Wait, what?"

Feigning a heart attack? AGAIN? Last heist he got himself into Zef feigned a heart attack so that blue-haired loon [member="Zyrias Pax"] and him could get in and rob the royal jewels of Hapes. How the heck did they manage that still remained a question worth investigating. Heck, he wondered what the hell happened with that slicer girl, did she really spend it all on shopping on Canto Bight? Pro'ly.

As the two entered the bank, one minute apart from each other, Zef got in queue impatiently waiting. A short time after he was up at the booth when the acting skills of an old as heck scoundrel exploded.

"I wish to-" He began before rolling his eyes back leaving only the white. Zef feigned the inability to breath and staggered backwards with his hand on his chest. The smuggler fell with a slam and didn't really need to feign the pain on these old bones.

Tarsi, you feth.

[member="Daro Tarsi"]
 
The Admiralty
Codex Judge
[member="Zef Halo"]

Daro played the role of concerned bystander.

It was during these moments that the acerbic alcoholic evaporated into a cloud of concern, sympathy and worry. "Oh, no!" The gravely voice called out as Zef collapsed in front of him, his body slumping and bumping into him just a bit too. "Watch'a elbows, dipchit, my arse is still sensitive from ya chitty seat," He murmured softly as Daro caught Zef in his fall and slowly eased him to the floor. "Someone, anyone, help, please!" Tarsi called out after for good measure as a crowd started slowly gathering up around them.

"Is he okay?" Someone called over Daro's shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse from Zef.

"I-I don't know," Daro replied back, before looking up towards the employee behind the counter. "Ma'am, I think its the heat maybe?" Improvisation, it wasn't like he was a doctor and could determine a heart attack from the get-go.

"Do you have a side room where he can lay down?"

This put them on the spot.

On one hand... that was most likely not staff policy, but letting an old man die of a heatstroke in the middle of the bank? That would suck for their optics. A moment of consideration between them and a supervisor who had just rushed in, before they nodded quickly.

That was step one.

"Heart attack would'a been stupid 'ere," Daro murmured in Zef's ear as he helped him walk, his arm around his shoulder.
 
Swear the feth Daro moans more than me.

Zef thought as he feigned pain and a somewhat near-death situation. This was ridiculous as feth, he wasn't even sure how it was even working. Again. How the heck did it work with the Hapan royal family in the first place, too? The smuggler was too old to play the karkin' clown anymore.

Kark this fethin' chit.

So the moment they staggered into a nearby room with two security personnel following them cautiously, Zef's good ol' right hook came swinging for one of the guards blacking him out. Sucker punches were his favorite, always hit first. Always. As Daro handled the other, the smuggler already had the guard's pistol in his hand.

"I ain't waitin' for no karkin' medic." He told Daro before he instructed the supervisor and their employee to get down and lock themselves in the room they were taking him in. "Alright, everybody dow-"

Abruptly, a siren blared interrupting him. Someone had triggered the alarm and cut their time for chatter short. Zef gathered his breath trying to figure out why the heck had fethin' Daro 'I slice everything including ur mom' Tarsi not taken care of the most karkin' important thing in this half-arsed plan of his. "What. The. Kark, you old fethin' fool."

While Zef was busy making everyone lay the kark down, a third security guard was taking aim straight at him from behind.

[member="Daro Tarsi"]
 

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