(Pre-NuTL) Friends in Low Places

[Gamov]

Generally speaking, taking on new recruits was always a risk for the Rebellion. These days it was hard to tell who was friend and who was foe, and with the Imperial war effort ramping into high gear, the threat of spies and double agents slipping through the cracks was as serious as ever. Fortunately for Anya, Aldo Raines didn't seem to be the backstabbing type.

In fact, he wasn't even the sober or conscious type at the moment.

Glancing at the datapad in her hand, the dossier didn't even come close to matching up with the scruffy slag slumped over the table in front of her. An ex-CorSec officer turned small time smuggler, Aldo had come "highly recommended" by someone further up the chain of command. Whoever that someone was, Anya wanted to slap them senseless.

"Great", she sighed, tucking the datapad away. Leaning down ever so cautiously, her nose crinkled as she caught the heady whiff of Corellian whiskey drifting on the man's breath. And by the looks of the empty bottles piled up around him, he'd been drinking enough to give a Rancor a hangover.

Grabbing a glass of water from the tray of a passing server droid, Anya reluctantly slipped into the seat across from him. After a sip or two from the glass, she took her blaster out under the table... then threw the rest of the water in Aldo's face. "Hey! Wake up!" She blurted, her tone sharp as her finger settled lightly on the trigger. Waking a drunkard seldom went well, and she had learned by now that a little preventative precaution was always the safest measure.

@Zay

 

[Zay]

Tongues of fire lapped at the air hungrily as voices cried out in agony. The tang of burnt flesh clung to the air and mixed with the acrid aroma of the structure fire behind it. The voice's inside the residence began to chant, their words slowly and methodically, folding into a haunting chorus that rang out in rage.

"You killed us."

Aldo Raine stood frozen in place facing away from the blaze. Each syllable slammed into his back like an ocean during a storm greeting the shore. He knew if he looked back he'd see them. He would see each of the people he'd killed in the name of justice standing behind him in the fire, their bodies kindling for the unquenchable flame. He never looked back....

It was always the same series of events. He stood facing away and listened to their accusation for as long as he could and when his soul couldn't bere another word, he would get into his CorSec commisioned speeder and try to blow his brains out. But he never did. Just as he would begin to pull the trigger he would wake up... and the hangover would take him from there. This playthrough was no different, but before he could get into his speeder an enormous wave interrupted the ritualist proceedings.

Aldo's eyes snapped open as tepid water dripped from his tangled locks. The sudden intrusion of light, sound, and smell threatened to empty the contents of his stomach, but he managed to keep his bile in check. He lifted his face off the table he'd passed out on and ran his hands through his wet tangled mane. Slowly, his eyes focused on the person sitting across from him, he took a deep breath in, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

With an obvious effort, he managed to croak out, "What?"

@Gamov