What do you do with a drunken sailor?

[Zandra Tal'verda]

"Zandra," she introduced, "Zandra Tal'verda."

She nodded in return. She liked this one. The pretty boy. He had spunk. Young, probably only a little older than her son, actually. Made her remember the children she'd left behind on Mandalore with a pang of regret. No matter. When she went to drop off provisions to the clan, she'd see them again. Someone had to provide after her husband, the Tal'verda chief went missing.

"I prefer while on the job you just call me Z, however."

She inhaled her cigarette once more before snuffing it out on the palm of her right hand, the dark grey metal one, so crudely grafted to her wrist. She hadn't had the credits to purchase synthfresh, so for now, at the very least she had a hand to swing a blade in. It worked just as well as flesh and bone had, if a little awkward. People underestimated the perks of having nerve endings. It was seriously strange not being able to feel a damn thing at the end of one arm.

[member="Neiros Starwind"]

 

[Neiros Starwind]

"Z it is." The rogue smiles, and downs his drink, before moving to lean against the bar in this group. He'd flag the server-droid, and get another glass of.... well... whatever the hell that was. It burnt nice.

"What about the rest of you gents?" Neiros inquired, eyebrows dancing playfully. The prospect of shipping off this hunk of steel and getting paid to punch some holes in some fools with his P.A.V. was just too exciting. He couldn't wait.

[member="Zandra Tal'verda"]

 

[Isaac Ideus]

"The name's Isaac. You can call me Isaac."

Suddenly, the corellian stood still and a look of exasperation crossed his face. He sighed, and shook his head. "For kark's sake, what am I doing. I've got the credits already, I don't really need this. Don't get me wrong, you all seem lovely but the idea of living with you lot ain't exactly piquing my interest." He dug into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. "You know what, I'll do you one better: You see, I know this man from cartel business-- young fella, probably a bit younger than Mr. Hairspray over here. Top bloke, decent cook, a bit anti-social at times but a bloody good fighter if I've ever seen one. He's looking for jobs... he lives nearby, I'll ring him and have 'im here in fifteen minutes."

[member="Zandra Tal'verda"] ; [member="Neiros Starwind"]

 

[Lysle of the Hydian Way]

[member="Isaac Ideus"] - [member="Neiros Starwind"] - [member="Zandra Tal'verda"]

[Theme]

A pillar of smoke left the barrel. His right arm rose and fell with the recoil. A body across the room slapped against the floorboards. The sound of limp meat was uniquely different to a living body. No resistance. Blood poured out, and it was nothing like the holoflicks tried to tell you. There was no small amount of tomato-sauce-looking blood that leaked from the body, it was a small river of dark crimson that poured out from the right of his neck, having shot a main artery.

Lysle stood over him, and lowered the slugthrower to the mans head, and pulled the trigger again. The sight was a mess. He reached up and wiped a fleck of minced flesh from his cheek. Life was brutal, it was disgusting, and one too many people lived in a fantasy world. A good thing they did. The thumping smazzo tunes downstairs drowned out any sound of the gunshots, and the former Red Raven captain was dead. All without a hitch.

He pulled out his grandfathers hankerchief from his left pocket, smoothed over the gun and fell into a squat, placing it the cleaned evidence on the floor. His hand shot out and grabbed the limp one of the captain and curled the fist around the gun. It didn't look like a suicide, but hey, it was worth a shot. He stood, the blood dying the raised hairs on his hand red. He wiped his hands down and pocketed the cloth.

There was a calmness that swept over him. Intoxicating and intense. As he took the elevator down, he could hear his heart pound. The beat of a drum marching to war. But he was alone in this war. In the months past he had a number of attempted arrests and bounty hunters tracking his heels, but One Sith territory was a safety net for him. So he hid here, on Coruscant.

He had totally vanished, and not out of desire but necessity. Life got in the way, he told himself. Sometimes you have a responsibility to yourself before anything else. That is why he was forced to ditch Neos City and allow itself to govern its own, but only recently he heard Ravens grip was slipping, and their hold on Antecedent was near non-existence. "I'm coming home," he whispered.

He just needed to find himself a crew, a few loyal comrades to make a daring smuggling run onto Antecedent and get him groundside. The elevator doors pinged, and he stood frozen in his tracks. It had been months since he heard that voice, or seen the back of that mans head. He knew him instantly; Isaac Ideus. What in the damned Force was he doing here.

Isaac dug into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. "You know what, I'll do you one better: You see, I know this man from cartel business-- young fella, probably a bit younger than Mr. Hairspray over here. Top bloke, decent cook, a bit anti-social at times but a bloody good fighter if I've ever seen one. He's looking for jobs... he lives nearby, I'll ring him and have 'im here in fifteen minutes."

"If you're trying to call me, my mobiles dead."