Ask The One-Eyed Man

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music IC

"I didn't kill him because he was crazy.
I killed him because he was making sense."
—Josephus Miller, The Expanse

"You don't get to live a bad life and
Have good things happen to you."
—Arthur Morgan, Red Dead Redemption 2​

A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…
That’s how Zad would begin his entry on a page.
His journal, his diary, and his book about his past.
A boring story, really, that history of that old man.

He might have settled for the ship as his grave.
Might’ve settled for the stars as his graveyard.
But a man like Zad, well, his fate’s pretty plain.
He will die soon, soon enough, of a dying heart.

Zad is this side of the galaxy’s resident stranger.
Into a street, he moves, Cowboy Bebop strings.
Nope—from Red Dead Redemption 2 actually.
But, like them, Zad’s a cowboy, O our Ranger.

He has a trench coat on and it is long.
It’s a duster—double-draped shoulders.
It’s dusty all right, dirty, but not too much.
Just spots from an old man’s past ‘n’ dust.

Ranger's jacket is of black leather.
Zad has his hand in a coat pocket.
By him is a woman, a Mandalorian.
Hand comes out—grips a cigarette.

A cigarra, some called it.
So it’s a whatzamacallzit.
Not a cigar but a cigarette.
A zippo—a thumb ignites it.
Silver metal is on the casing.
There is an image on the back.
Which is of a black cowboy hat.

In the open air of Wall Street
There is a lot of market activity.
Zad blows smoke and moves feet.
In market districts of Gravenell City.

Crowds surround the market stalls.
Merchants with all sorts of wares.
Waving, hollering, him, her—all.
“You, my man!” And Zad stares.

Buys a coffee, black, offers to buy for Zaia.
That is now the second time for the guy but
Don’t mind spending money he won’t need.
Leaving the stall, they move along the street.

Zad takes a sip, piping hot. Between markets
Herds of people are all over, mostly shoppers.
Flanking the street are stores and then more.
“Hopefully a call any minute from the Badger.”

For now, just move along, Sector Ranger.
A man can understand this kind of contact.
The Badger had to be careful who he meets.
Soon enough, bub, we won’t be such strangers.

The message from Perla was that the Badger
Would find them, Zad and Zaia, him and her.
Would contact them as they amble about.
Like they’re just two tourists round town.

It’s a fitting escape, Zad thinks, sipping.
Bittersweet coffee, warms old bones.
So does whiskey, but isn’t drinking.
Walking, a musician at a banjo.
A Ranger and a Mandalorian.
Zaia Krodas is a Mando.
Track: “Mountain Banjo”

@Sicadorito

 

[Zaia Krodas]

The Badger. The moniker reminded her of a certain someone that she was better off not thinking about, and every time it came to mind, she would push it away. The galaxy was far from perfect— who was she to think otherwise?

In the crowded marketplace, she somehow felt like she had more privacy here than, say, in a small building with a couple other people. Plus, with her helmet on, it was a good thing that no one would be able to see her face, Zad or otherwise.

“No thanks. I’m good.” She politely declined the offer for coffee— maybe she could have some after they met with the Badger. “I hope so,” she responded to Zad’s comment.

When they arrived at the meeting point, she was a little surprised to find that no one was there. Glancing at the time, shown on a large clock toward the center of the marketplace, it was exactly the time they were supposed to meet.

“You don’t think he forgot… right?” She scanned the crowd, but no sign of anyone who remotely looked interested in them other than the vendors who were still calling out to passers-by. A few more minutes passed, and Zaia was beginning to have some doubts about all this. “I hope Perla wasn’t lying. I’d hate to have to go back and, uh, you know.” She would if she had to, though.

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music IC

The pair move along.
Through the crowd.
Stores all around.
And a new song.

The banjoist is behind them.
The guitarist is before them.
A pair of man and woman.
Both sitting on the bench.

At Zad’s left is a guitarist.
By Zaia’s right—guitarist.
As foot traffic passes by.
A man stops, waves hi.

He drops a coin in a hat.
Bet I’d look good in that.
The hat is a cowboy hat.
Not like a hat on a man’s.

Not the guitarist with the cowboy hat.
No, rather, the man in the beret hat.
The black beret, that man has on.
And that man is in fact a Duros.

“I hope Perla wasn’t lying. I’d
Hate to have to go back
And, uh, you know.”
“And rub her back?”
A mite laugh at that.
“Listen, kid, I’d hate
To go back to high 'n'
Mighty Perla, period.”
Over a knee, an ankle.
Sits like ‘been in a battle’.
“Sure you don’t want some?”
Offers pretzels to Mandalorian.
“Best in the city. Also, cinnamon!"

A Ranger is aware of her helmet.
“You use a straw? Or you lift it?”
A Ranger doesn’t grin, is curious.
“If he don’t call us, I’ma pitch a fit.”

Smoke then blows.
Not his own though.
Zad’s too busy eating.
It moves along a Duros.

For a moment, the two stare
At one another. I ain’t scared.
Zad tells himself. Him as well.
It’s a staredown! Showdown!

The Duros stands in grey.
Grey shirt, grey boots too.
Grey pants; trousers, say.
The Duros is pretty rude.

“Ya gotta question?”
The Zad asks him.
Crumbs on chin.
Ruzed wipes it.

“Yeah, I gotta question.”
A cigar, smoke goes far.
“Wanna know if you’re him.”
“If I’m who? Qui-Gon Jinn?”

@Sicadorito

 

[Zaia Krodas]

“Ha! Good point.” Zaia grinned at Zad through her visor. She wouldn’t want to go back to the Hutt either— she’d already seen enough. “I’m alright. All this Hutt talk is making me lose my appetite anyway, helmet or not.”

They would wait for a little longer before a Duros appeared… but this man didn’t seem to fit the description of the one they were looking for. If what they had could even be called a description at all.

“If we’re who?” she asked, echoing Zad’s sentiment but without any of the humor. “Who are you looking for?” She crossed her arms. “Tell us that and we might just give you an answer.” She didn’t like how the man had just walked up to them like he owned the place. Who did he think he was, anyway? She had a feeling that this wasn’t the Badger either. Hadn’t Perla said something about them having to find him? This wasn’t much of a search, though they had waited for a while.

“You could tell us your name, at least.”

@Die Shize

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music IC

A guitar twangs at a flank after a shared dance. Smoke in the air, twirling like curls of hair, drifting in the stagnant breeze of air conditioned streets in a damned domed city on a dead dumb moon.
A head, music in it, coming from the left, a humming guitar still strumming at large as a Duros moves his arms.

A hand slides slowly by his thigh, where the flap of a brown poncho pulled back hangs and hides the handgun of a blaster. His other hand pulls in, cigar embedded between lips, puffing a cloud that masks the face of the other man in a haze.

The Duros’ eyes are alive with light, however, like fire, orange as embers. He doesn’t blink, he doesn’t flinch, even as that Human man quips with his ‘Qui-Gon Jinn’. He thinks he’s funny. It was everyday sarcasm but O how that Duros is unamused as he arcs a brow at him.

A moment passes, two men staring at one another, neither swerving or wavering while their gazes blatantly penetrate as they play their staring game. The Duros discards the man as he turns to the woman.

Another Mandalorian. The Duros did not appear to be well received at this particular bench but he doesn’t really care about it given he’s here on business. The black beret above a grey outfit and atop his head hides his baldness, not that he’s hiding it.

“Jon Dromon.”

Jon Dromon answers the woman. Then he looks back at the man, between the man and the woman, Ranger and Mandalorian, searching for whether that name meant anything to them or not. Fortunately for them, the headhunter had not come for either of their heads.

“And this is my sidekick.”

He gestures toward one other who arrived beside him just then and right on time to introduce himself as well.

The two are not friends, did not need friendship for their mission. To Jon Dromon his ‘fair weather friend’ of a partner is just another lone thug on the floor who better be able to throw a punch or duck under the table if they get into a crunch and unless he is a di’kut or a klutz of course.

“And you must be our passengers. A Mandalorian and a Ranger.”

Smoke blows, silver blue, moving skyward, however there’s no sky, just a ceiling above the floors and streets for this lonely domed city.

“If so, we’re here to escort you to the Badger.”

“And if we’re not?”
The Ranger never wavered, his own hand at his own thigh by the flap of a black leather jacket that likely hides a blaster at it.

“Then I made a mistake.”
Shrugs Jon Dromon.
“And you never heard the names..."
The Duros' eyes are off.

@Sicadorito

 

[Crux]

Maybe Crux had ought to stop taking on these escort kind of jobs. If last time was any indicator, there was always something that went wrong. He wasn’t exactly fond of the Duros he was working with either. Also based on his prior experience, he tended to offer to join the other side as soon as things got difficult, and Crux wasn’t sure he would be able to take three beings simultaneously in a fight should they accept.

Already having reservations about this, his mood only soured even more when he saw exactly who they were dealing with. A sector ranger was already bad enough. They were nothing but trouble in his line of business. But what was even worse was that he recognized the woman beside him. He had no doubt about it— she was the woman who’d been with Praxor on Ventooine. Just the thought of the place made him angry, and he was sure that she recognized him too.

Sidekick? Kark you, Dromon. Jon’s introduction was less than flattering, and Crux would grit his teeth when he turned to the Ranger, and, with an effort, the Mandalorian.

“...Wolf.” He wasn’t about to give his real name, even though his real name wasn’t really his real name. Jon gave them the gist of things, and Crux added on.

“If you’re not coming and you don’t follow his advice, I’ll be happy to help you forget.”

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music IC [Recurring]

Smoke in air. Guitar in heart. It used to make him cough.
As a boy, a long time ago, though he knows the past like the back of his hand.

He’s a man grown now, Zad Ruzed, alone in a town that doesn’t recognize him. It’s for the best.
If it wasn’t for Zaia sitting next to him then he would be the loneliest soul sitting on a bench.

Keep your head, old man. Zad blows a silent whistle ‘tween lips as the Duros opens his for another cloud of sweet cigar smoke, rings curling round.
Violent, a Ranger is, perhaps more than a man like him should be given that he still carries a badge.

A cowboy of a ranger, one might compare the loud voice that is this Ranger to, crossing dune and dust to the tune of uppercuts and killing thugs if it means keeping streets clean.

A maverick of the galaxy, a Ranger likes to think, and no dumb duster of a bounty hunter would ever tell him otherwise, especially this Duros guy.

Jon Dromon. Zad chews on that, cinnamon pretzel every bit as real as the taste of burnt chocolate coming from that Duros’ cigar. And the smell of whiskey in a bar.

He’s listening as the man named Wolf speaks, introducing himself as well, but hard to tell who the sidekick really is between Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee. My only leads to the last Dagger…

“And you must be our passengers.
A Mandalorian and a Ranger.
If so, we're here to escort you to the Badger.”
“And if we’re not?”
“Then I made a mistake. And you never heard the names..."
“If you’re not coming and you don’t follow his advice, I’ll be happy to help you forget.”
“You wanna bet?”

Whether or not Zaia interjects, Zad sucks air ‘tween his teeth as though a cigarette should rest and blow smoke of its own.

“Luckily for you two this here old man is in a bit of a diplomatic mood.”
Whatever Wolf sniffs from that statement, the Duros just kinda stares on.
“The Hutt put us in touch with the Badger. If he sent you to pick us up then let’s kick the dust.”
Zad was used to this. Typical escort business. Someone like the Badger has to keep insulated.

But a Ranger is still no idiot and keeps his wits about him. Sighing at all this covert chauffeur business, Zad reaches into his jacket, smiles at Jon Dromon’s subtle flinch, and sticks a cigarette between his lips. A lighter, a black hat on the back of it, he smiles at it instead.

The blaster at his hip, it isn’t really his, neither is the lighter. Why’d you give me this, sugar? An old man’s blink back to reality, he turns his head at her, but it’s Zaia, not Aemi. “Partner?”

She's no kid, that Mandalorian woman, but she still has to be okay with all this. She was his friend but Zad still felt like he had dragged her into his mess.

@Sicadorito

 

[Zaia Krodas]

The two men introduced themselves as Jon and Wolf. She felt like she’d heard that somewhere before, and the latter’s armor was familiar too. Wasn’t that what Endyr called…? Ohhh. Zaia couldn’t help smirking from underneath her helmet as the realization dawned upon her. He even tried to threaten them, which was quite ironic considering what had happened last time.

“I’d put my money on the Ranger if I were you,” she said matter-of-factly to Jon at Zad’s quip. She ignored the stare that Wolf gave her as she turned to Zad at his question. Though fleeting, there was a faraway look in his eyes that immediately told her that something was distracting him. Was it Aemi? She could speculate, but she didn’t want to assume.

“We’re here, they’re here, let’s get this over with,” she said before giving their two escorts a nod. She let them take the lead before she looked back at Zad.

“You alright?” she would ask in a low voice as the group started on their way. “I thought you were looking forward to this.”

@Die Shize

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Kick the dust. Thinks a Duros, words on repeat in his head after a Ranger had first said them. Kick. The. Dust. This badge will bite that dust if he decides to get on a bounty hunter’s bad side.

Zad Ruzed. The name didn’t need to impress. A name is worth credits. I know a few folks who would pay a pretty penny for a Ranger, stranger.

“So we go.” The Ranger, the Mandalorian, the bounty hunter and his token teammate together. “Follow me.” Smoke blows between teeth. “And don’t slow me down, now.”

Silence. Unless the woman had a quip. The uncanny gang moves along through the streets, throughout the crowds, appearing as a group of four and nothing truly more than that.

A Duros, a Human and two helmets wherein one just so happens to be Mandalorian. In a city as large as Gravenell, its own kind of quiet hell, the woman wasn’t the only Mandalorian in town. Of that, a Duros knows well.

Streets turn into alleys, not too many, not too winding, and in the back of one alleyway is the back entrance to a building where a Duros now stands.

Cigar smoke leading the way, Jon Dromon gestures with an arm to him and her, Mandalorian and Ranger. “Here we are.” It was a door, metal and all, and otherwise unremarkable for a warehouse.

“If you’ll do the honors.” Jon would prefer for Crux to open the door while he watches for any trigger-happy Rangers, Mandalorians or more. “And in we go.”

In he goes. The warehouse proves to be as abandoned as the back alley streets. Crates stacked in all kinds of shapes, lined along the walls are metal racks, tables and chairs for work stations, and words offering directions and warnings such as ‘watch out for forklifts’.

Beyond this, all is quiet on the warehouse floor. It would be clear that this is more of a meeting place for the day than an operating base. There are no guards and it didn’t take a Ranger to notice it.

In the silence, boots -click-clack- off a steel surface and around a corner a door emerges. A room opens up, a waiting area, a reception desk, an office at the end. Everything is so very empty.

“Take a seat.” Jon offers, isn’t demanding; it isn’t a bench but a couch for a better rest. At its left is a table where today’s guests are able to activate hot coffee or tea or whatever works best for them. Not really.

“It’s broken.” Jon Dromon promptly informs Zad Ruzed as he grins gleefully at the coffee machine.

“Wanna check in if he’s ready to see ‘em?” A man like the Badger was a busy man indeed and might just be talking on the comm to his many clients.
“I’ll watch these two.” The Duros takes a seat in a corner chair and takes out a datapad in place of a magazine to read.

Of course, when it comes to creatures like the Badger, a Duros knows that folks in their office simply like to make others wait.
Gaze to whatever he's reading, a predator can still see his prey around him and can pounce from the grave in a moment.

@Sicadorito

 

[Crux]

Crux gave the Mandalorian a hard look through his visor before they went on their way. It seemed as if everyone was trying to annoy him today. He would walk a short distance from Jon, slightly behind the Duros so he could keep an eye on their “passengers” in case they tried anything suspicious.

When they got to the warehouse, he went to open the door as Jon led the others in. And almost immediately after they went in, he would shut it behind them. The Badger didn’t like any kind of attention— good or bad, and the fewer beings around that saw them, the better. Though, why he’d agreed to a meeting with a Ranger of all people was beyond him.

“I’ll let him know.” Crux nodded to Jon before heading to the Badger’s office. Strolling up to the door, he would knock twice to get his attention.

“Sir, they’re here.” He waited a few seconds, but there was no response. Crux frowned slightly, then knocked again. “Sir?” Again, no answer. That was a little strange, so he quietly opened the door to have a peek inside. But the seat was empty.

“Jon?” He turned and walked briskly back to the others. Glancing at the Ranger and reluctantly, the Mando, he would break the news.

“The Badger’s not here.”

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music OOC

The Duros leads the way and the Ranger throws his trash away. Dusts the pretzel crumbs from his black leather fingerless gloves, licks sugar from his lips, and for a moment they taste like hers, like Aemi’s, who was the reason an old man once lived.

Zaia’s not like her, she isn’t what Zad would or could call his woman, but she was still with him, kinda like his kid, like the daughter an old man could never have, but old man Zad can still be a father figure to her.

“You alright? I thought you were looking forward to this.”

“I’m all right,” he reassures, he lies. He squints his eyes. Karkin’ head. Not again. “Kid, I’m lookin’ forward to bashin’ a bastard’s head in’.” He shrugs, doesn’t lie. “Do. Done. Did.” They move along in the city with no sky.

Across streets, crossing alleys, a Ranger like him was in his element when he was getting his hands dirty. In pouring rain, in cold weather, he was a Sector Ranger who was never out for glory, ever out for justice, and Zad Ruzed would get his in his Iron Justice and with his fists.

Do. Done. Did. Cigarette between lips, blowing smoke in the wind’s direction. May dissipate against a wolf’s helmet. Or a puppy. Whatever he thinks he is. A copper thinks, but not quite a copper. A Ranger’s got a big iron on his hip.

Through this door, onto that floor, a warehouse and nothing more. Abandoned, no one here to interfere. Time to cash in on a Hutt’s relationship with a Badger. Zad promises as smoke permeates the distance between cigar and cigarette.

One way or the other, the Ranger will get his answers from the Badger, even if it means cracking the backs of a thug in a helmet and a bounty hunter.

“Take a seat.”
Jon motions.
That coffee!?
Ranger grins.
“It’s broken.”
“Kriffin’ shit.”

Jon sits. Zad sits.
Datapad in Jon’s arms.
In Zad’s hands are cards.
He shuffles, no deal, likes it.

“Why do they call him the Badger?”
Ruzed asks Jon while Wolf moves on.
“I dunno.” Jon shrugs. “Guess it's the colors.
Don’t much care for Mandalorians. No offense.”

“Guy's a Mandalorian?”
“Did I fail to mention?”
“As in beskar’gam?”
“A red black helmet.”
Wolf’s voice just then.
Same day, different shit.

“The Badger’s not here.”
“So did he just disappear?"
“How the kark should we know?”
“You're his amigos. Where’d he go?”

Violence, in a moment, and a Ranger knows it. He sits on his couch. The Duros sits in his chair. If either gets up, a hand comes up, a blaster in hand, and who gets a shot off first is ever the question.

“What kinda setup is this, fellas?”
“Now I'm the one takin' offense.”
And a Duros tilts his head.
Ranger looks right and left.

All in all, these two douchebags appear to be as confused as the other two. Something is clearly amiss whether these thugs have anything to do with it.

“If you don’t know where he is…why would he suddenly leave and where the hell would he be?”

Jon Dromon stares on, not even blinking, and slowly begins to get up. No mistaking that it’s with Zad’s permission as he does the same without either hand drawing a blaster for an attack.

“Y’know, my mother told me to never trust a bounty hunter but, to be honest, I honestly don’t know.”
“Try his comlink?”
“It’s ringing.”
“Anything?”
“Nothing.”
"Kriff. Me."

@Sicadorito

 

[Zaia Krodas]

“If you say so.” Zad didn’t sound particularly convincing, but she knew better than to prod him on. She only hoped that he would still be at the top of his game for the meeting with the Badger.

Pretty soon they’d arrived at the warehouse, and Zaia huffed when she found out that they would have to wait yet again. Whoever the Badger was, they clearly had an overinflated view of themselves. Much like the Hutt, in fact— she wondered how they even managed to get along.

She took a seat next to Zad as Wolf went to fetch the Badger. That was when she found out that he was a Mandalorian, and that piqued her interest. Was it possible that the person they were going to meet was a Solus? That opened up another whole can of worms, and she didn’t know how to feel about that.

However, Wolf would soon return with news that seemed to surprise the entire group.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” she exclaimed, abruptly getting up to her feet. She looked accusingly at him before switching to Jon, who’d just tried to call him. As much as she would have liked to believe that these two were messing with them, they did appear to be as genuinely confused as she and Zad were.

“Alright. If he’s a no-show, I guess we’ll have to do this ourselves,” she declared. “How long have you two been working for him? Do you know of any places he frequents? He couldn’t have gotten far if you only just left to get us.” She didn’t care whether or not they wanted to help— as far as she was concerned, no one was leaving until they had a plan for finding the Badger. Or else this would just be a massive waste of time.

@Die Shize

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC

The Ranger and the hunter speak.
Jon tells of a Mando's red black helmet.
Whether Crux has met the Badger himself.
He had different ways of doing his recruiting.

Jon had gone from a cantina to Wall Street.
It was there where he had been told to meet.
To find the described Ranger and Mandalorian.
Together, with Wolf, arrive at warehouse, head in.

So there he was.
Sitting in the chair.
Surfing the holonet.
Rugs. Bears. Nonsense.

Crux pipes up just then.
About a missing Mando.
Zad asks where'd he go.
The kark does Jon know?

Mandalorians. Born for war.
Jon Dromon finds it a bit boring.
With Mandos, always the same story.
Chasing their glory, vengeance and more.

Whether that woman’s blue and grey armor.
Whether that black red armor of the Badger.
Certain Mandalorians were bound to share colors.
Whether this Badger’s really a Solus or some other.

It was easy to mistake a face and give a name and you’re suddenly stuck with it.
Jon Dromon, a bounty hunter, all he really cares about is just doing his business.
Not as in toilet, though this city is quite like one he thinks; memories of a Calamari.
There was a Badger on that ship but whether Crux made something of it, Jon didn’t.

He’s here to get paid by the hand that pays, the past doesn’t factor in.
However, he can’t exactly get paid if his idiot employer’s up and left him.
Was he spooked? Jon deduced, putting his comlink away while listening.
The only Mandalorian still here speaks loud and clear. Good. She can think.

“I just got signed on.”
A haze before his face.
“For the short term, I guess. The Gabagool would be my guess. It’s where we met. Strip club in Wall Street’s ends.”
Tilt head, crack neck, smoke in breath.
“If this guy’s legged it and all then that’d be his best bet before going any further. If we don’t find him there then we might still get some answers. I know some faces there and they're friendly with Mandalorians."

“Unless, of course—” The Ranger coughs before continuing on. “—We’re the ones he’s running from.”

“People do tend to run from me.” Jon shrugs, carefree arms. “They just don’t get very far.”

“...”
“...”

“Strip joint is my choice.”
Looks at Crux.
“Unless my partner has a better suggestion.”
Jon remembers him as well, that mercenary aboard the freighter with that traitor Mandalorian or whatever it was that Mandalorians liked to call each other.

With the Jedi, too. Maybe they were Sith. That’s something else that Jon Dromon doesn’t really give a kriff about. The whole galaxy was crowded with governments and factions hellbent on arguing over ideologies and creeds. But good for them because a bounty hunter got paid well for it.

A person like Jon Dromon sees only three things: hands to cuff, heads to plug and then getting money for cleaning up.

@Sicadorito

 

[Crux]

It was bad enough that Crux had to run errands with a man he knew would probably turn on him in a heartbeat if another employer offered higher pay, and that he’d somehow ended up running into the very Mandalorian who was apparently best friends with the di’kut that had taken his arm. Now, his employer had clearly bailed out, and he didn’t know whether he was even going to get paid for this. As far as he was concerned, the only thing that could possibly make his day worse was if they found the man and he ended up being Endyr Ratheon. Mandalorians! He was never going within a mile of one again.

“Same as him.” He answered the question with a subtle nod in Jon’s direction. “But I received a call, voice scrambler and all. Didn’t think much of it.”

At Jon’s suggestion of the strip joint, he doubted that they would find him there. Granted the view would be nice, but a place with that many witnesses when he’d not even shown him his face was probably the last place he would go to avoid being found, unless he was going the hiding in plain sight route.

“I’d suggest the spaceport. If he’s really tryin’ to run away, he’ll have a ship waitin’ for him.” And there was no way he would be going with the Mandalorian, so he looked at the Ranger. “I say we split up. You want to come along?”

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

One problem with all this nonsense was that none of them had much to go on all in all. The Badger didn’t leave any leads and a Ranger had to weigh his options.

If he really was on the run, such as getting chased out of the city, then the spaceport would be a good place to be. If he wasn’t, they could prep the port in case he tried that door.

On the other hand, if he was going on the defense then it made sense to select a hangout with Mandalorians around to help him against assassins.

Maybe the Man got tipped off about cops and decided to let the scene cool down and cool himself off at a strip bar or maybe not since that was a place to get hot.

That he wasn’t answering his comlink might just mean he was sitting on a toilet seat. Then again, somebody mighta grabbed his ass.

“My badge should come in handy for getting answers at the spaceport.”
The Ranger turned to his partner and the hunter, eyes into eyes, dark and bright.
“And even if our long lost friend isn’t in this Gaba…goli….”

“Gabagool.”

“Guacamole—then at least we got a Mandalorian to ask Mandalorians questions about a…a Mandalorian. Ahem.”

It was no coincidence that this arrangement kept the two di’kuts under surveillance. Zad trusted Zaia to give the Duros two black eyes if he tried anything funny. Meanwhile, Tweedle Dee is the least of Zad’s worries. Or is it Coyote?

Zad had a bad feeling about that Duros, Jon Dromon, his eyes looked off, but of this other thug he isn’t sure yet. He didn’t look like much but you didn’t have to look tough to be such. He looked like he could pack a punch and bite like a pack of wolves. Wolf.

“Aight den.” Scratches head. “We split. Do. Done. Did.”

“You and me, then.”
Jon gave Zaia a nod.
“A Mandalorian and a Duros bounty hunter.”
His two eyes into her one eye.
“This feels…sorta…familiar…”

@Sicadorito

 

[Zaia Krodas]

Zaia almost let out an audible groan at the Duros’ suggestion.

“Are you serious? A strip joint? That is the last place you’d find a real Mandalorian.” Although by the end, Zaia was mostly grumbling to herself. If the Badger was actively dealing with criminals like the Hutts, he probably wasn’t one who would care much for his reputation. Heck, he might not even be Mandalorian. What did Jon know about the Mando’ade? He probably couldn’t even tell them apart.

Zad seemed to be content with splitting up though, and she was once again reminded of why they were here. He hadn’t dragged her into this— she’d made her own decision to help. And complaining about it, though kind of therapeutic, probably wasn’t going to get anything done.

“Alright, then. You know the way there, right? The sooner we find out where he is, the better.” He might have been escaping as they spoke, and she waved Jon along. “Lead the way.”

@Die Shize

 

[Jon Dromon]

The Gabagool

Spoiler: Music IC

The last place you’d find a real Mandalorian? Potentially a strip club.
Granted, Jon had just mentioned its patrons were friendly with them.
The Gabagool, some fool named the place, but it wasn’t Mando-run.
Mandalorians, mercs and more of them, club clientele is a best bet.

What did Jon know about the Mando’ade? He knew they had sweaty heads.
It was a lead, at any rate, and they were slim on them, whether it was best.
Ultimately, it’s the very place Jon had met the Badger and been hired by him.
A shady character, is inclined to be, to sell his helm to the Daggers. Business.

It always boiled down to it, like the end of a cigarette, or just that of a cigar.
Flicking ash, Jon inclined his head, his ear, to his Mandalorian friend. So far…
“It’s where I might go to pick up a getaway package, maybe change my name.”
A shrug, a puff, a flick, this time tossing the cig. “Prick. That almost hit my arm.”

When you knew people, you knew people, the kind of people to get you into hiding.
In this city, on this moon, running could only get you so far without a ship to the stars.
A Ranger and a mercenary had that part covered, while four feet take two into a tune.
Music, heard it at the entrance, faint then, louder as the pair of man and woman step in.

Gabagool, whatever that meant. Sounds like a stripper’s maneuver... It would make sense.
Past that entrance, double doors for two guests, Jon Dromon lights up, a fresh cigar again.
Music to ears, guitar strums, queue drums, this place ain’t for the faint of heart; then some.
Lyrics, male singers, drifting through ceiling speakers, beneath dance the strippers. “Rum.”

It was the first word to come to mind. Places like these made a bounty hunter want to drink.
Naturally. Turning his head, Jon looks right to left, knowing time is of the essence, and patience.
Pair of hunter and Mandalorian something other couldn’t rush up breaking knees saying please.
“Should start at the bar.” He didn’t recognize the bartender but—wasn’t a prime player either.

Bouncer looking his way, and another, someone else, a scantily-clad Zeltron woman.
Wrapping leg around the pole, arching her back, staring from the stage. I ain’t here to play.
He was here for a name—the Badger—and if his buckethead partner differed he wouldn’t wait.
Through the guests, most gazing at half-naked women baring chest, black pink lighting so common.

Smoke curls through the air, his own and others’ too, as Jon Dromon moves along past booth.
Beyond table, toward the bar, where a Human man looks able, kind of fat, but is no less smooth.
Whether this man knew the Badger and, if he did, where to go after, he might know others too.
Whether Mandalorians, someone who might point them in a direction of their target’s last move.

“Rum.” Jon Dromon ordered, finding a stool, leaving it for his Mandalorian assocaite at his right.
He would stand, a Zabrak on his left, a bald woman, save for the horns, warm eyes in a thin line.
He wasn’t here for her, not even for the rum. “And whatever she wants.” He meant the Mandalorian.
“You’re so kind!” Cried the Zabrak. Um. “Get you bucketheads all the time.” Barkeep said. “No offense.”

@Sicadorito

 

[Crux]

It was strange to think that a bounty-hunter, or what some would call a “criminal”, was more comfortable working with a sector ranger than with one of his own. But that one just had a bad look in his eye. He didn’t care much for the Mandalorian, especially given their history, but he pitied her for it anyway, being a girl and all in a place like that. Stuck with a man like that. A Ranger, on the other hand, would probably keep things tidier. Most of the time it was annoying, but today it might just be what they needed. The Ranger had let him drive, after all. And steal a ride. Although it wasn’t like he had much choice in the matter.

“So, Ranger, ya mentioned the badge?” Crux looked behind him, eyeing the old man skeptically. “I think that’d be helpful right about now.” He gestured at the winding line of speeders that led to the entrance of the spaceport. Judging from the dissatisfied looks on people’s faces and the large sign that read “Accident up ahead, please expect delays” with a smiley face of all things plastered underneath, it was going to take a while to get in. “You think they’d let us around if you flashed that thing?”

Even if he did, it didn’t look as if anyone else was paying them any attention. Even after Crux revved the engine a few times, all he received were glares befitting of any ex-girlfriend of his and the occasional finger. “Kark this.”

He turned the speeder onto the curb, driving along the sidewalk and toward the spaceport, looking straight ahead despite the yells and protests of others in the line. If there were police behind him he didn’t care, just sped up regardless, and he didn’t ask for the Ranger’s opinion when he did.

Once they got to the entrance where people were unloading, the pair were pleasantly greeted with a huge mass of people milling about inside. Security wouldn’t have an easy time finding them in there. Nor us with the Badger. He got out of the driver’s seat, grinning at his passenger.

“Let’s start lookin’,” Crux said to the Ranger, slapping him on the back once he got out of the speeder. “Now let’s say that this is one o’ your investigations, where would you start looking for a missin’ badger?”

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music IC

He missed his Mandalorian companion already. Sure, weren’t the first time he found himself riding beside a guy who can’t drive and sat on opposite sides of the law. Eh, then again, weren’t like Zad Ruzed was much of a lawman to begin with. Sure, he had the badge and the blaster but…errr what order did they go in again when it came to servin’ justice..?

“I did mention the badge…”

Zad trailed off, speaking with a cigarette between his lips, which had its whole other kind of twang. He lit it, breathed smoke but not up nobody’s ass. Wolf looked behind for whatsuch reason but Zad just looked out the open window of the passenger’s side wishin’ it was his best friend’s ride, listenin’ to lyricless music from the speeder’s stereo.

“This badge.”

At that, Zad Ruzed flashed his not-quite-a-companion a wide toothy grin then flashed said badge and pearly white teeth at a man with a radio. He had a high visibility vest, bright green, and was apparently helping direct traffic.

“Urgent business. Need you to get us to the front of this mess. Do. Done. Did. Ya dig?”

“Sector Ranger? Right away, sir.” He spoke into his radio.

“How about that, hey? What’d I say?” Zad grinned back at the delinquent, tempted to blow smoke in his face.

At least he wasn’t that damn bounty hunter though. Jon Dromon. What a karkin’ nerfherder. Wolf wasn’t that bad in comparison.

“Everythin’ okay?”

“Bit of a delay—”

“WAAAAAIIIIIIIIT”

But Wolf didn’t wait as the speeder away.

Moments later, spaceport playin' the same music for some reason, and free from police who fortunately didn’t arrive on the scene to cause further delays, Zad blew smoke into his companion’s shit-eating grinning face as they got out.

“Hold up, amigo.” The Ranger just stood there staring at the scumbag. “Don’t do that again. Nuff said.”

Now it was Zad Ruzed’s turn to not wait.

“Anyway I’d look for a ship you might expect a Mandalorian to be in given this guy evidently isn’t the type to take his helmet off.” Zad looked left, looked right.

“This way.” He didn’t wait. “Or he could be goin’ incognito and takin’ a shuttle off this rock.”

The Ranger shrugged them leather-duster shoulders but never once looked at Wolf. Solo ships were just ahead but it would take ages to search them even with a badge.

“Receptionist on the left.” Zad paused and turned toward Wolf. “Buuut I’m guessin’ you already know what ship your employer flies, right, tough guy?” His speech wasn’t mean. Not really. Maybe he just didn’t like a guy who worked with that damn Duros. Or maybe he just didn’t like the name Wolf?

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Zaia Krodas]

Zaia frowned at the bounty hunter’s remark, though he couldn’t see it. “What kind of packages are you picking up? … You know what, I don’t want to know.” She huffed, already regretting everything up until this point, then reluctantly followed the Duros inside.

The interior of the Gabagool was as vulgar as she’d expected. “Osi’kyr!” she half-whispered, half-exclaimed to herself, trailing slightly behind him as she stared wide-eyed at the gawking men and the sultry women. “What kind of dance is that? What are these people doing with their lives?” Before she could continue with her commentary, though, the bounty hunter directed her to the bar. The Badger. Right.

Shaking her head, she made her way to the bar. When she saw that he would be standing, she decided to do the same despite there being an empty chair. She wanted as little to do with this place as possible, even if it meant looking like she wasn’t really here for pleasure.

“Just water for me. Oh, and none taken. I get called buckethead all the time, it’s kinda like a nickname at this point. Have you met anyone who called themselves the Badger, by the way? He’s probably kind of, you know, badger-y. He’s a Mandalorian too. Or a buckethead, if you know what I mean.” Zaia didn’t even know half the words that were coming out of her mouth anymore, and let out a nervous chuckle instead. The man gave her a strange look but passed the cup over nonetheless. Zaia took off her helmet, averting the gaze of the bartender and taking a sip as she eyed the Zabrak to the left of the bounty hunter.

“Love your hair, I mean horns, ma’am, would you happen to know anything about badgers?”

@Die Shize