Workaholic (open)

Unforgiven

Old school
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The streets were dirty and filled with people as always. Even at this late hour the corridors were littered with all types, merchants, drug-dealers, killers, thieves and worse roamed the shadowed halls beneath the flagship planet for the Republic. "I hate this place" Helm muttered through clenched teeth as he pushed past a particularly foul smelling fellow...

Finally the purple neon lights of the "Black hole" came into view. Helm threw a look over his shoulder before sliding his identi card into the slot near the heavily reinforced door. An odd shaped metallic ball slid from the console, after a few clicks and turns the thing retreated, the scan obviously finished, either the door would open or it wouldn't. A heavy shift of metal on metal sounded as the doors security measures swung free, permitting access into the seedy establishment.

The scent of smoked meat and burning spice stems greeted him as he entered. Helm acknowledged the squat Besalisk bruiser hovering just inside, ole Groshkk, pleasant as always; he thought before stepping into the poorly lit chamber. The only light emanated from the cylindrical blue neon band lacing the bar, and the few lamps lit upon small drink filled tables. A pair of Twilek ladies danced seductively atop a small stage near the far side of the room. Helm gave a knowing wink to the pink skinned female as he tossed a cred stick onto the stage. With a sincere smile she snatched it up quickly before one of the patrons could claim it as his own.

Dame and drink weren't on the menu tonight; he thought to himself as he made his way past the bar and into an even dimmer hallway, only a small fient blue light accompanied by a soft buzzing sound remained.. A small doorway covered in a blue shield barred the way. Two rather tall Trandoshians stood at either side. The larger and darker skinned of the two sized me up before hissing a few words in his native tongue into a comm device on his wrist. The shield faltrered then dispersed entirely, my que to enter...
 
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Unforgiven

Old school
SWRP Writer
Joined
Mar 25, 2008
Messages
141
Reaction score
0
Helm eyed the bodyguards wearily, for he knew Trandoshians all to well, he'd killed more than his share...and worse, they knew it.

Helm squinted, trying to adjust his pupils to the darkness within. The sweet smell of perfume wafted up, teasing his nose with pleasures he'd never know. Settled deep within a finely crafted spider-slik couch sat a Rodian information broker, it's white rubbery skin managed to catch what little reflection of light remained. "Buku, a pleasure as always. Might wanna ease up on the perfume though." Helm imparted to the albino alien with a slight cough to emphasize his remark. The Rodian coolly slid deeper into the couch, releasing a shrill laugh as it extended an arm, silently beckoning the mammoth man to join him.

Helm hated hearing the Rodian language, no clue why, he just did. Reminded him of a man gasping for his last breath, before the long dark took em. He had little choice though since Buku was his source, his life-line to death. The Rodian gurgled out a few words, as he lay a data pad on the small center table. Bishop eyed it for a moment, fighting the urge to look too eager. He reached for it with all the calm he could manage...
 
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