Fuchsia Haired Speed Demon
The Mynock's Den
Level 2269
Coruscanti Underworld
"Who you tellin' to shut up, ya Karkhole?"
"You, That's who!"
"Now, now, boys. Fight nice. You know Graunch doesn't like it when he has to buy new barstools." came from the fuchsia haired girl as she walked through the door to The Mynock's Den. A rather gruff, and unsettling dive bar down in the 2269, not too far from Darkstar Repairs. Sara's Aunty Esty still comes here now and then for a drink, but lately, Saraiya started using it as a sort of 'office', if you will. Ever since that meeting back up on the surface level, Saraiya realized that things were a lot more complicated and involved than she ever knew. She was aware that she was small-potatoes when it came to the grand scheme of things.
The Mynock's Den had always been a dank and dirty kind of place. A true 'hole-in-the-wall' kind of joint where you don't just happen across it for a drink at random. No, most of this section of the 2269th's swoopgangs and independents frequented this place. The proprietor and head drink-slinger, Graunch, had owned this place for the past 30 or 40 years now, but it was much older than that. Some even say that long ago when the 2269 WAS the Surface Level, that's when this place opened. Ancient in it's history, and decor. The place looked like a throwback to a time long since passed, with it's old school hand-push door on durasteel hinges to the dark & stained oak bartop with the brass foot rail.
This was a place Sara considered a second home. And they knew her well here. Ever since her Aunty started bringing her with, playing the various stand-up style hologames and eating bar food for dinner when she wasn't even knee-high yet. Graunch was almost like an Uncle or something to that effect at this point. So, as Sara sauntered in as she always did, her heels clicked with each step before she found herself sliding her backside onto her favorite stool at the bar. Far end, near the kitchen entrance and with a perfect view of the front entryway.
"Whatcha drinkin', Sarai?" came from the weathered and grizzled old bartender.
"Does it ever change, Graunch?"
"Nope, never does. But then again, word on the streets say it might."
"Huh? What are you babbling about now?"
"Heard you was spotted up on the surface. Lookin all fancy ta' boot."
"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not the only girl with fuchsia hair ya know?"
"Yeah, but your the only one that rides the Storm."
Sara had to laugh at that. "Yeah, ok, maybe I was. What's it to ya?"
"Not a thing, Sarai. Not a thing." he said as he slid over a dented steel mug in front of Sara, filled with an amber liquid that had a faint smell of cherry and a heafty froth on the top. "Thanks, Graunch." she said as she took the mug up and drank a bit. Good stuff, really hits the spot, she'd think idly. Hope she finds her way down here without trouble. I wonder how many executives it would take to clean a bloodstain off the permacrete...
And so, Saraiya Darkstar sat there, sipping at her drink, eyeing the holo-monitor that was showing whatever random local news while periodically checking the door.
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