Open An Exchange at Benno’s Cantina

[Pidge Batana]

Pidge watched the three men bearing down on the table nervously. Something told her they probably were not there to buy her product, especially considering one of them was holding a blaster, letting it casually sway by his side. The other two, one stockier and seemingly entirely muscle, and one lean and tall made no move for weapons probably because they did not think they would be necessary. Pidge noted that although she was fit, she was also relatively small and had never been trained in hand to hand combat. They were approaching so fast, Pidge barely had time to curse at the woman who had begun this. She was standing smugly by the entrance, clearly reveling in the chaos she had caused.

The cantina had gone almost completely silent, with only the most drunk patrons laughing, chattering, and dancing without a care. People loved drama and everyone was watching intently, as if it were a show on a holonet.

“You’re looking very nice tonight, Missy. How about you make things easy and hand over that datapad of yours. It’s clearly valuable. Now that I think about it, you would also be a valuable asset. They pay party dancers quite a bit nowadays and you’re pretty enough” It was the man with the blaster who had spoken, and Pidge gathered he was the leader of the trio. She tensed. She hated being told she would make a good dancer, and being threatened was worse. Some of her people had been taken advantage of and she was not going to let that happen to her as well. She could either try to de escalate the situation and continue with the sale or grab Baymon and run.

“Hail the speeder now, Rat!” She said under her breath. Then to Baymon, as Zenke seemed occupied sizing up the three men, ”We should find a quieter place to make the deal. Let’s go.”

 

[Baymon Bluevynson]

When the silver-haired woman met his gaze, it was all that Baymon could do to stare back. His smile faded as the light went out in her eyes, and for a moment he wasn’t sure whether he was looking at another person or a pit of darkness. Whatever this woman’s deal was, she certainly had a tale to tell, though perhaps this table and this moment were not the time or place.

"I've had enough for today."

“Perhaps you have indeed,” he responded. “Alcohol does tend to make us act...strangely.” The two continued staring each other down, or whatever it was that their eyes were doing, until she broke the ice with a smile that wasn’t too dissimilar from his own occasional tactics. And, like that, she walked away, but the three goons did not. Here we go. Instead of going, the idiots came closer, and one dared to open his mouth and flick forth his tongue to let fly vulgar words that did little and less to impress the only lady left. Or me. My, my, what toilet of the cosmos spewed these souls back up?

He was about to address their character when he heard Pidgelle speak just across from him. It was reassuring that, despite present circumstances, she had no intention of abandoning their deal, of which he could only agree was best carried out elsewhere. On top of everything else, they now had an audience in this cantina. Though, they would have to deal with their fellow performers first. Without needing to watch Zenke to know that he was watching the one man with the blaster and then some, Baymon sipped his vodka with an ahh and sought to stare down the gunman a little less dramatically than the silver-haired woman had stared himself down.

“I wonder,” he tilted his head. “Are you as quick with your hand as you are with your mouth? Certainly not with your brain or you might have guessed that the table you just walked up to has at least two guns to what appears to be your only one.”

It was a risky assessment, given that any of these three men could have had pieces holstered out of sight, but Baymon’s hand appeared to pay off. The gunman looked between the three individuals sitting at the table, and for a moment he looked concerned. Then he smirked. “All I see is a middle-aged fancy man armed with a drink.”

Baymon smiled. “Correct on all accounts! The hand you see on the tabletop could throw this glass into your face before your pistol came out of the holster, but it’s the hand beneath the table that you should be worried about. I’ve got a DC-17 pistol trained on your genitals. Same with my associate and, who knows, maybe the pretty Twi’lek too. That’s about three bolts in less than one second all coming your way—not your friends. Just you.”

He seemed to be getting the moron’s attention word after word, though the latter still stood with his hand on his hip. “So, care to crunch those odds on your own datapad?” Baymon dared. “Because if you play against them then the only person dancing will be you, squirming on the floor clutching your crotch, while your friends decide whether they want to stick around and listen to you scream or find a commander who still keeps one between his legs.” At that, Baymon downed the rest of his vodka. “The ball is in your court. I just wonder how much value you place on your balls.”


@Kestrel @sayso

 

[Pidge Batana]

Kestrel suppressed a shocked laugh at Baymon‘s words. It was nice to not always fend for herself, and his phrasing had certainly gotten to the point. She wasn’t sure who actually had blasters and who didn’t, but she was perfectly fine going with Baymon’s bluff, if that’s what it was.

Unfortunately, the men seemed too saturated with alcohol to think clearly and one of the seemingly unarmed henchmen lunged at Pidge, trying to grab her satchel, but missing, wildly flailing, and grabbing her sleeve instead. The man with the blaster, the apparent “boss”, pulled his blaster on Baymon, although waving it around in his general direction, would be a more accurate description. The third man stood and cracked his knuckles, clearly just enjoying the fight from where he was. “C’mon Mizzle, join us,” called the leader, and the third man reluctantly stepped in.

All chaos had broken loose at the cantina. The bartender had gone to call the authorities and people were just grabbing as many drinks as they could hold. A Twi’lek ran up on stage and started chanting, “Fight, Fight” into a surprised looking singer’s microphone. A crowd had gathered around the table and a few people had holo recorders out, ready to capture every moment. The man called Mizzle swung a punch at Pidge, which grazed her cheek, making her stumble. Her reactions were a bit slower than usual. She clung on to the satchel she had put her datapad in as she tried to pry it out of the other man’s hands. “Give... it... back... Now”. Now all Pidge could hope for was that she, Baymon, and Zenke could somehow leave before the Coruscant police got there. This situation would be more than a little complicated to explain.

 

[Baymon Bluevynson]

Music OOC

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Well, that didn’t work. Clearly these drunken fools were nothing but. Darn. When one of them actually lunged for Pidgelle, Baymon was poised to respond, and in that very moment he caught the movement of the man who led this little gang. The pistol came out of his holster, and if it were not for the lazy way that the gun was being waved around without even a finger on the trigger, the two men still sitting might have taken some more drastic action. Alcohol really did have a way of blinding the senses, though, and perhaps it wasn’t terribly proper to riddle these idiots with bolts on account of their intoxication. Not yet. Maybe later.

A moment later and Baymon grabbed his empty glass and hurled it across the table. It flew into the gunman’s face, smashing against skin and bone but shattering only when it bounced off his noggin and struck the floor. Nonetheless, the buffoon bounded backwards and onto his back, clutching his head instead of his crotch. The result had paid off no less. Meanwhile, Zenke had sprung from his seat and threw himself on the Human who had struck the Twi’lek. Zenke returned the favor. A right hook caught the man in the cheek and sent him spinning into a table, toppling it over and falling to his belly.

Baymon rose from his own table empty-handed and calmly approached the struggle over the satchel, giving the last drunk standing his gaze. “I believe what the lovely lady is trying to say is…” The man looked at Baymon with an expression that read ‘Huh?’ Baymon answered that query by taking his collar in both hands and kissing the man's nose with his forehead. Blood shot out of both nostrils, barely missing Baymon’s own clothing, and that man went crashing to the floor too.

Watching the events unfold was an absolute madness that no one had asked for. As the fight died down, the chaos did not, with many more a drunk and reveler engaged in the revelry. They had yet created a perfect opportunity to escape said chaos.

“Very sorry about the ruckus. Here’s a tip.” Baymon spoke to the waitress from before, placing a few generous credits into her hand. “Tell the bartender that my three friends on the floor here would be delighted to pay for the tab and the mess.” With that, he retrieved his hat and secured it snugly onto his head. “Oh, and do give my compliments to the band. That saxophone had some of the sexiest nasal notes I’ve ever heard! Speaking of which, the gentleman moaning over there, he’s probably going to need a tissue for his nose.”

Frowning at the determinable disaster of an encounter, Baymon yet turned to Pidgelle and Zenke with a smile, the cantina's exit just behind them. “Well, I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome. Shall we?”


@Kestrel @sayso

 

[Pidge Batana]

The fight had lasted no more than one or two minutes, but the Cantina was a bit worse for the wear. Drinks and broken glass littered the surrounding area and a nearby table had been tipped. Three bodies lay on the ground, dispatched by Baymon and Zenke. Pidge would’ve liked to have taken one of them out, but she was a bit too busy trying to hold onto the product she had come to sell to do more than aim a few solid kicks. “Well, I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome”, remarked Baymon lightheartedly. Pidge wholeheartedly agreed. Rat was spinning in circles, whirring and chirping loudly. He clearly was not a fan of bar fights.

The sooner they got away, the better. She jogged out of the Cantina over to the curb and called for Baymon and Zenke to follow. “Get in!” She motioned to a running speeder driven by a transport droid. Jumping in and cutting the droid off, she quickly directed “Take us down a few levels and drop us off somewhere discreet” Pidge didn’t really have a location in mind... just away. The speeder coughed and hummed, then suddenly jerked forward, rocketing down the lane. “Sorry about the uh... complications. I promise normally things go more smoothly,” Pidge tried to reassure her customer. She then leaned over and drew out the prized treasure she had been keeping safe: a shiny datapad about the length of her forearm, the screen glowing slightly and the small blinking yellow light she installed mercifully off. Gently, she handed it over to Baymon.

 

[Baymon Bluevynson]

Music

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There was always the slim chance that at least one of the fools could have gotten up from the floor for a rematch, but it seemed as though their betters had bested them and had a clear avenue of escape after all. Pidgelle was quick to capitalize on the moment and all but zoomed out of the cantina. For his part, Baymon maintained a brisk walk beside Zenke and behind his counterpart’s jog, seeing no immediate reason to present a suspicious scene by the time the three of them exited the establishment, datapad and dignity in tact.

Without delay, Baymon and Zenke entered the speeder, Zenke up front and Baymon in the back with Pidgelle. Traffic blared as the vehicle sped away, zigzagging throughout the lanes both above and below. Baymon wondered what location entailed “discreet” and how discreet their droid driver would be about reaching it, but he saw no immediate reason to distrust his Twi’lek seller, so he let the proverbial wheels roll. At Pidgelle’s apology, he cocked a brow.

“Complications? I thought those men were pretty simple.”

The shine of a datapad flashed before his eyes just then and he let them stare like a magpie’s, holding the object in his lap and ogling at the screen. “This datapad though is certainly smooth. Is that a chromium finish?” If it was then it would more easily explain the attraction that it had drawn, particularly if those goons had managed to get a better glance at it back in the cantina than anyone else had. Might also help explain where the datapad had ultimately come from. Some high-rolling crime lord, perhaps. It seemed to fit the bill, what with its ability to scan other datapads and for other criminals at that. Though, it’s not the datapad that matters as much as the chip.

“One thing I’ve learned from a variety of cantinas is that looks can be as deceiving as a Zeltron dancer who meets you backstage and leaves you waking up wondering how you got there, with more than a few credits shy at that. So, before I part with my own, care to demonstrate how this gleaming device lives up to its description?”


@Kestrel

 

[Pidge Batana]

“Ah, a wise customer. What a rare occurrence,” Pidge joked as she dismounted the speeder. The finish was indeed chromium. Pidge thought it was rather a waste to install such state-of-the-art tech onto a junky, cheap datapad. She strolled into an alleyway before pointing out the minuscule yellow bulb she had installed near the holorecorder.

“It looks like a projection light, but it will blink if any signatures you program as dangerous get within a certain radius. 200 meters. You can program the signatures you want to avoid on the datapad, or simply sync it with local law enforcement databases if you want to avoid the common criminal. It isn’t strictly illegal, but you might want to keep the knowledge you have access to this tech on the down low. Now, I’ve shared my secret, how about you share yours. Why do you want it?” Pidge knew her question was likely to be unanswered, but she was nothing if not persistent and inquisitive. She wanted to get herself caught up in the chaos of crime. It was exhilarating and Pidge could always use more flavor in her life. “I always have more... advanced and rare tech... should you need it. I can get my hands on and modify almost anything. My last big job involved adding special features to a client’s ship, although that took quite awhile.“

Pidge lost herself in thought for a second, remembering having to smuggle small cloaking devices through interplanetary security. She had certainly had to get creative. “Of course, no pressure, but you are a very good business partner.”

 

[Baymon Bluevynson]

Music OOC

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Baymon raised a reasonably wary brow as the speeder came to a halt and all but catered to an alley as its last stop. It was in such dank darkness that a man or two could be shanked and robbed for all they were worth, and the person who they were taking purchase from could keep both the goods and all the good stuff from the corpses left behind. Well, death is around every corner, I guess. He resolved as he followed Pidgelle into the alley, Zenke following him.

The Twi’lek worked her magic with the first trick being the yellow bulb, Baymon giving into the demonstration more than wherever they were going now, if anywhere. Two hundred meters sounded like plenty of ground to play with, and the programming features were like the seesaw and swings and jungle gyms. When she mentioned that the device wasn’t strictly illegal, it was quite clear that the device wasn’t strictly legal. All the fun that an eavesdropper could hope to have in his own two hands.

Baymon kept his gaze on the datapad as the three individuals marched along, considering what answer to give his host. He had plenty of time to think on it as she spoke about her vendor capabilities, and he couldn’t say that he wasn’t in the market because that would have been a lie. From datapads to starships, Pidgelle seemed to know her game, but there was only one way to find out.

“I take part in enough business to know which business to partake in and which to part from, as any business partner should.”

Looking up, he tucked the datapad under his arm that was closest to where Pidgelle walked beside him. The gleaming thing had no need to be spotted by some chance passerby, but it hadn’t been bought yet either. One wrong gesture could give one wrong impression, and whatever her own intentions, he had no intentions of stealing from the lady.

“When it comes to secrets, I’ve learned that such a currency is greater than credits, but I’ll give you one for free. As much as this chic little chip can expand the playing field, I’m looking to expand my own. Suffice to say that I would surely need an individual of your expertise to work that field with all the right equipment. You’ve displayed one such piece of machinery. Consider me an interested party as far as seeing more, and an invested partner if I like what I see.”


@Kestrel