Zay
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2014
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Outer Rim Territories________________________________________________Ord Antalaha
Local Time 1857_________________________________________________The Rusty Cutlass
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The sound of dress shoes on cobblestone filled the empty back alleyway as Damon made his way through the slums district of Fort Divin. Dressed in chinos a button down fitted shirt, sunglasses and his ever present charm necklace, Damon would have been a peculiar sight. His time working with Kartan and the crew of The Waste had been very profitable and like most young men with more coin in his pocket than he should have Damon spent it liberally. However, it wasn't his designer shoes or sunglasses that would have made his visage out of the ordinary, it was the speed in which he traversed the back alley that would have raised a brow or two to his person. Sweat covered his brow and a dark triangular shape had formed on his lower back. His body ached, but there was an air of urgency to his movements that mirrored a frightened animal.
BLAM!
The sound of blaster fire reverberated off the close walls and the wiz smack of the bolt slamming into and charring the wall just beside his head brought the dapper young man to a skittering hault. A curse escaped his lips. Damon had hoped his jaunt through the alleys would have thrown his pursuers off his trail... he'd been wrong. Still facing away from the gunman, he slowly and deliberately raised his hands in a sign of surrender. As his hands reached the zenith of his reach a gravely chortle emanated from the gunman. The chuckle was a wet phlegmy sound that made Damon's nose wrinkle in disgust. The young human was having trouble biting back the plethora of quips and retorts that came streaming into his mind. He wanted to berate this phlegm filled moron with each passing moment, but when a gun is pointed at your back close enough for a blind man to hit it's mark one would be surprised at the level of discipline they can muster.
"You're a slippery little monkeylizard aren't you?" the question was clearly rhetorical, but Damon responded, "I'd ask you kindly, not to bring up my perspiration problem. It's a sensitive subject for me. It's not like I'm mentioning the fact that you've literally never clear the phlegm from your throat." The remark felt good to voice, the blow to the back of his knee that followed did not. The gunman wasn't in the mood to deal with Kross' mouth. "Shut it." he barked. The high pitched whir from the blaster told Damon his attacker had switched his blaster from stun to kill. "Where's the map?" the words dripping with venom. Damon's heart beat in his chest and adrenaline poured into his bloodstream. In his current position he was kneeling. The leg that had been collapsed by the kick was knee down on the ground, but the other was positioned before him. The argyle sock he wore matched the colors of his shirt and the small leather holster held a hold out blaster that the gunman had ignored or not noticed. There was hope. Damon just had to get the gun without being killed. No pressure right?
While he'd not been able to see the being holding him hostage, Damon knew who it was. It was Vreck. A meaty twi'lek with a glassy eye. The pallor of the tail heads skin was the color of snot and his teeth matched. Overall he was a stark contrast to Damon, but where his hygiene was lacking, his aggression made up for it. The barrel of the heavy blaster pressed into Damon's back. "Where's the map!" The gunman's words were starting to become more insistent. He was losing his patience, if Damon was going to do something it would have to be now. Suddenly, a loud crash resounded behind the pair, not waiting for his attacker to pull the trigger Damon pulled the small blaster from his holster and pulled the trigger. A mixture of confusion and surprise slammed into the grimy twi'lek's body as he convulsed slightly and fell backward.
Damon looked toward the trash cans that had turned over and noted the cat that delightfully snacked upon the spilled contents. The human owed that cat more than he owed most fully sentient beings in the galaxy. Looking down at the small blaster in his hand he frowned. It was set on stun. Looking down at Vreck he pointed and pulled the trigger once more for good measure. "Don't wake up too soon. I'm tired of running." He picked up the being's blaster and placed it into another trash can after removing the battery cell. "Always cover your ass." one of Kartan's famed lessons. Lifting his shirt he pulled a map that had been concealed under his button down. A sly grin graced his face as he opened and checked for any damages, the map was good. Returning it to it's hiding place he made his way home.
By the time he made it back to his modest apartment he showered changed and left. His stomach was complaining about a lack of sustenance, so, he made his way to The Rusty Cutlass the crew of The Waste held this establishment in high regard and frequented the bar often. Kartan and the owner were old friends and since Damon was a charge of Kartan's he spent countless hours in the bar. As he entered the bar damon spotted several members of his crew and nodded, trading insults and quips with the men and women as he passed. As he made it to the bar he surveyed the room. Many of his fellow crewmates were here and Damon could easily sidle up and join in on any conversation being had, but tonight he wanted to be alone. He needed time to process what all had transpired in the past few hours and what it would mean in the near future. The only thing Damon was certain of was the map he'd hidden beneath his shirt was a treasure map.
@Galavant