Recent content by Michael Drake

"I'll keep that in mind Harlan. You take care of yourself." Drake smiled - a genuine smile, not some braggadocious smirk - and returned to his drink. He liked Harlan, but the smuggler didn't doubt that the conman's story would end in tragedy. Such was the nature of his line of work. Perhaps...

Drake glanced over at Darr, who didn't seem fazed about the situation at all, and then back to Kring, who he'd seemingly misjudged by assuming he'd jump to hostilities. Maybe spending the past two years in the Outer Rim had changed him... it wasn't like him to let inebriation cloud his...

Drake raised an eyebrow at the man's statement, but didn't say anything upon his departure, instead turning back to his drink. Even for an experienced alcoholic such as Drake, Hull Stripper was a formidable liquor indeed, and he inwardly mused about how fortunate he was that the Reporter hadn't...

Drake took the datapad and read intently for a while. Most of the details were fluff--standard Senatorial drama and rhetoric. While Drake only possessed a basic understanding of politics, he was an opportunistic man, and knew enough to realize that war could affect the galactic economy...

"Well, other than the Republic practically declaring war with the Hutt Cartel, which you probably already know of, don't think there's much I can tell you." Drake shrugged, deciding to change tactics and lighten up somewhat. This man seemed to be a reporter of sorts, and if there was one...

Michael Drake barged through the doorway of the cantina, a scowl plastered to his handsome face. Rain had plastered his ordinarily well-groomed hair to his forehead, and stray drops cascaded down his crimson jacket. It had nearly washed away the spice residue around his nose, but a few stray...

"I'd rather live fast than live long. I didn't choose this life so that I could enjoy a long, happy retirement. The best jobs in the galaxy are those that punish you. It's who you are when you've got nothin' left to lose and nothin' more to give that matters; it's who you are when your shields...

"And I'm Michael Drake, Captain of the Arrowhead, pleasure to make your aquaintence." Drake flashed a charming grin, and stuck out his prosthetic hand for a firm handshake. He glanced over his shoulder at the Rodian, and nodded apologetically at the alien bounty hunter. "And my apologies Randal...

Ryloth... Michael Drake was rather familiar with Ryloth. The planet's infamous black market was so ingrained within Twi'lek society that the name Ryloth was almost synonymous with crime. While the slave trade was unarguably the predominant market here (which he found quite unsavory), Michael...

Michael Drake hadn't been on Ord Mantell in years, yet he felt quite at home in the bustling hub of Worlport. The air hummed with the vibrant chorus of a dozen alien languages, and as Drake breathed in the air, the smell of smoke and pollution washed over him. All things considered, it didn't...