Out of the Frying Pan....

[Bee-Den Iosis]

Bee-Den,bleeding from the hip, leaned himself up against the control panel as the shadow walked towards him.
"You think you could walk back into the game? You thought you could move back into Nar Shadda, as a aging man, and rule as a kingpin?"
The shadow pulls his pistol up to Bee-Den's face.
"Sorry but your out of luck"
3 DAYS EARLIER

Bee-Den pulls his cup up to his face, reading his pad.
"Hello! Welcome back to Nar Shadda! Your lodge is at 6A! If you have questions, locate your local guard and ask!"
Bee-Den was meeting a contact on where to get steal a local smuggling transport ship.He saw a shadow pass through door. Game on.

 

[Srota]

Nar Shadda, the gangster's paradise, home to hutts, humans and a wide variety of species who worked for the cartel. The Compere forced back the urge to spit, to show his disgust for such a place, for he hated the Hutts, hated them with a passion for what they had done, yet he also respected them, for they had built something lasting and strong. He could respect that in a foe, it was why he was here in person, he wanted to be involved with anything his group did with the Hutts, for he was pretty sure few else could handle their slimy, huge, carcasses. He sighed and patted his hand against the holster of his pistol, tapping it gently before making his way outside the hotel, leaving the luxury and entering the dirt and the grime that was the crime-ridden world, and once more feeling at home.

He slipped into the shadows weaving in and out of the crowds as he made his way towards the watering hole, a favorite place with smugglers and thieves, where they could drink and relax and pick up jobs. If he wanted to keep an eye on the competition, this was the place where he could best do it. He settled into the seat and let himself relax, trying to fit in with the loud boisterous pilots filling the den. His hand slipped down to a pocket on his belt and withdrew the cigarra, he placed it to his lips and set it alight, the embers giving his cybernetic left eye an eery glow.

 

[Bee-Den Iosis]

Bee-Den watched as his informant strolled towards him. He spoke of the SA Zundra, a transport ship with enough red spice to make you a rich man, and a time the ship was leaving tomorrow. Bee-Den thanked his contact and as he stood up and started to leave, he bumped into a wookiee with a couple of thugs behind him. Reactive as they are, the beast chunked the smuggler into the liquor cabinet.
"Shit" he said, "4 of them and I only have 1 mag...." As he pondered, one of the thugs jumped on the counter and pounced towards him. Bee-Den quickly broke a bottle over the counter and sliced the thugs throat. His former training has always helped him.

 

[Srota]

The Compere watched with interest as a clumsy-seeming man backed into a large wookiee, prompting a fight, as was common in places such as this one. His hand fell to the blaster resting in it's holster by his hip, best to be prepared after all. His cybernetic eye moved, following the action as the man slit one of the throats of the thugs who were approaching him. He chuckled a bit, watching and waiting to see how the man would react, and if his intervention would be necessary, if not, he would seek the man out later, after learning more of why this intriguing character was here.

 

[Bee-Den Iosis]

Another thug pulled his piece out and fired to no avail, as Bee-Den used the corpse next to him as a shield. After the shot, He chunked the body atop of another thug. As Bee-Den battled out with a human piece of trash and the wookiee, He grabbed his side arm and fired at the wookiee who dodged as the bullet flew into the fish tank behind him. Water rushed by and knocked the wookiee down. Bee-Den used the distraction to grab the other thugs head into the wall. With just the wookiee left, Bee-Den did what he does best, gloat.

"Well Furball your ass is going off the balcony!" He grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to the edge.

 

[Srota]

The man laughed as the wookiee was pushed to the edge of the balcony and with a simple one-liner, tossed over. This was a man to watch indeed. But the real question was would he be able to support their new endeavor or not. Of course, if he were an enemy or competition, he would be killed, as would all who stood in the way of progress for his group. Perhaps some more investigation would be required, and to that end, he rose to his feet and made his way closer to the target of his attentions.