Hexaflexagon

Hex's Repository For Things Lost and Now Found.

I R O N M A N

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^{" I promise I will explain it all when we get back. I will draw you pictures, I will use puppets...but for right now, you have to just listen to me."}

^{A N T H O N Y E D W A R D S T A R K ♦ May 29, 1970 (47) ♦ M A L E ♦ C H A O T I C G O O D}

C O N C E P T A B S T R A C T:

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As I see it being Iron Man is something that Tony gets. It's a fairly simple job all things considered you punch, shoot, blow up, or otherwise incapacitate the bad guys. Then you smile for the cameras, get the key to the city, and call it a day. What Tony Stark doesn't get is being a functional human being. And so thus begins the tale that I would like to tell simply entitled STARK VERSUS LIFE. It's a little different with less of the focus being on his actions as Iron Man, and more on him trying to get the rest of his shit together. He's almost fifty and the longest he's ever been able to hold a relationship is about two weeks. He is still a raging alcoholic despite several attempts to go clean. Not to mention whenever he wants to retire from the whole super hero business somebody blows his house up. In the end it's a superhero story or at least a story about a superhero, but one told through the lens of Bukowski or Lowry

The first tale begins in Tijuana or close enough to it. Following a sampling of the local flavor that begins one bad trip both figuratively and literally.

N O T E S:

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Tony was an original member of the Avengers underneath A.R.G.U.S. But is now something of a 'reserve member' more on his own wishes than anything else. He does offer his services though as a 'consultant' of sorts to the various superhero groups of the world providing logistical assistance.

Spiritum

@HeySeuss@vietmyke@Mercenary Lord@Draken@AlexStarsion@Mike73
The post-christmas things has also been done. Woooooooooooo

Spiritum

She dreamed of blood and fire. The raging inferno lighting up the abyss around her. The smoke filling her lungs with ashen remnants and obscuring her vision. She stumbled and fell hands sinking deep into the lifeless bodies below her. Her countrymen, the people that she was supposed to be protect. Dead splayed out like animals to the slaughter. Those that lived clinged to what little life they could calling out to her, moaning and writhing in pain. As she attempted to push herself up a hand wrenched itself from the crush and grabbed at her, burning skin at the touch.

Another hand rose and another and another. Ripping and tearing at her pulling her into the pile of corpses. She tried to fight back but for every limb she managed to pull away it seemed like four others had rushed up in its place. She watched as the hole that she was dragged through slowly began to fill in bodies casting her in darkness. And then there was nothing.

Her vision came to distorted and warped. Her left eye throbbing swollen shut from having smashed into the shuttle console. Pilot’s chair had ripped from its bearings with her still strapped into the seat. It was thrown backwards somewhere in the middle of the shuttle on the ceiling which had somehow along the way become the floor. The last impact had jettisoned her from her bindings having sent her sprawled across the floor. Her ears still rang and she felt her stomach lurch as whatever contents sat in her stomach had been forcibly expelled into a rather pitiful puddle. Scrunching her face in disgust her hand sliding across slick metal walls somehow managed to find enough purchase to pull herself into a sitting position. Stabbing dagger-like pain almost immediate as she tried to put pressure on her right leg. If she hadn’t already vomited from the constant titling of the world around her, she would've vomited from the sight. Tibia fractured and jutting outwards a few centimeters below the knee cap.

She tried to remember what happened but it was hazy. The memories of the attack all fading into her. Ardin... Ardin had told her to run, to release the holdings and get out. The assailant that had come after them having pushed him into a corner. The attacking ship had fired upon the shuttle as soon as it hit the open air. One of the engines blew and all she could do was try and pitch the nose upward enough so that the cockpit wasn’t crushed instantly upon impact. Which had lead her to this moment. The killers were still out there and she was next.

No. She wouldn't die here. She was Colette Van Skymning, of House Skymning. She had a lineage tracing back hundreds of years. Her ancestors had conquered kingdoms and defied the Spirits themselves and lived to tell the tale. She was not going to die scared and alone in the wreck of a shuttle. She couldn'tl. Or at least that’s what she told herself even as her hands shook and the tears flowed freely from her eyes. She took a deep breath and then another.

One step at a time. She pressed her hand against the broken leg. She then began to channel the Mist. Her heart pounded inside of her chest one wrong move, one loss of concentration and she could empty in too much Mist into her body and induce Mist Burn, too little and all would be for nought. She bit down hard on her free arm in preparation and began to push with the Mist. She could feel as the energy was forced into her bone and very slowly inch by inch the protruding flash of white was slowly forced back into the body. She bit down harder into arm feeling the cooper taste of her own blood fill her mouth. Finally after what seemed like an entirely she let it go. The bone was back in place, the pain was still there and enough would easily snap it again but if she was careful she would be okay.

It was then that she heard the footsteps. Heavy and cumbersome things crunching across scorched earth. Her mind instantly flashed back to the robots that had assaulted her ship. She quickly conjured up her bow with an arrow already being drawn. A large blade slammed through the busted door. She flinched backwards but managed to remain quiet as it was torn from its hinges. She kept the bow level waitin and waiting. The door was pulled away and backlit by the fires that raged behind him was a.... Man? She hesitated for a second and when the arrow was released it wavered from the heart and smashed into the shoulder. The man said something that fell on deaf instantly Colette released another arrow. This one was easily deflected away by the man’s massive sword. She could hear others approaching she yelled out a warning.

Another voice yelled out. What was it.... Grenade?! A small spherical object came soaring through the sky and landed easily inside the twisted hull. Colette reacted instantly Ardin’s training kick in hard and fast. The bow vanished and her hand flicked out and instantly a small glowing barrier appeared around the ‘grenade.’

The WARDENs would of noticed something at this point. An oddity that only those as highly attuned to the Mists as them would detect. For rather than the expected result of magic being used, a lessing of the Mist in the air around them as the user draw in power something else happened. The already heavy background Mist layer that surrounded them flamed up almost as if they were fueled by the girls casting. The ship above reacting to the display letting out a low groan that made the ground shake. The light from the barrier was like a torch in the abbys cutting a slice of light in the darkness.

Rather than seeing the enemy that they all envisioned they saw something else. A girl maybe their age or a little bit younger. Distinctively not from around their neck of the woods in both appearance and facial structure - the hair ink black tucked into a braid too dark and the skin a warmer palette than that seen in the mountainous lands. She looked like the enemy. She looked from them down towards the ‘grenade’ now illuminated by the light of the barrier.

“A rock?” She asked surprised. “Did you just throw a rock?!”

Setzer having wrestled Gideon off of him at this point standing back up with his sword at the ready took a step forward calling outward as he did. “Trust me lady wasn’t my idea.”

As he moved closer the girl rose her hand upward into the air, the mist flared again angrily. The arcane energy dancing and sparking off her like a live wire. Gallahad would feel the energy of his ‘flash bang’ being drawn into the angry around her like a magnetic pull. The center of her palm beginning to glow with a light the increased. “Step. Back.”

Setzer despite himself managed to halt his movement. His sword was still raised ready to charge in at a moment's notice but he called out to her. “Woah. Woah. As much as I would like to give you a thrashing with my sword here, me and my friends need some answers.”

“Answers?”

“Yeah, you know the talkin’ type.”

“Like what?” The mist still charging around her lashing outwards in small sparks of energy that bounced off of Setzer’s blade.

“Well who you are would be a good start don’tcha think?”

“You first.” Colette responded voice firm.

“Well on account of the war going on and you crashing your airship filled with Vangar soldiers here how about no.”

“I was invited here. By your King of all people. And within hours of entering your airspace, a trap is laid upon us and we are besieged. I think it is you that has some explaining to do unless the rumors of all you Rassvians being brigands and cutthroats was true, which would mean my mission her was all but pointless. Which would just add on to my list of things gone wrong today, of course. ”

Setzer raised an eyebrow at her turning to address his companions. “Invited by Balthazar? Is she crazy? Did we just pick up a crazy girl? Because I don’t deal with crazy all too well reminds me too much of my grandmother.”

Colette still holding her spell at the ready sighed and looked behind Setzer towards those that she knew were hiding out of her range of sight. “Listen. If you haven’t kill me at this point that means something. Can I please talk to somebody that doesn’t have an IQ of a fucking chipped brick?”

Hex's Repository For Things Lost and Now Found.

_{The setting is Sengoku period Japan with an anachronistic twist.
That twist may include cyborgs, night-vision googles, and anti-materiel rifles among other things.
Inspired by Afro Samurai, Samurai Champloo, Samurai Jack, and Thirteen Assassins.
Featuring: evil warlords, physics-defying swordplay, arms that happens to be guns, guns that happen to be arms, and shenanigans.}

Plot

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_{“The only reason a warrior is alive is to fight, and the only reason a warrior fights is to win”
~ Miyamoto Musashi}

Our story begins in a land ravaged by war. The local lords hunger for power and recognition has soaked the land with the blood of their escapades. Among these warlords arose a man known simply as Hagane. A disgraced samurai he joined one of the many groups of disenfranchised peasant turned into a full armed revolt. Hagane would become their leader both military and spiritually and as his peasants evidently began to win battle after battle against more heavily armored and experienced armies more and more flocked to the man's cause. Overtime Hagane would become a fearsome warlord in his own right bringing a sizable portion of land underneath his control.

As these things go though, all the power soon began to corrupt their savior. Consumed by an ever-present paranoia nipping away at him old friends became hated betrayers with no cause or justification. His domain became one of fear and horror. The citizenry were freely raped, tortured and slaughtered. Heavy taxes were placed on all to pay for his massive war machines and the reinforcement of his fortresses. The continual pressure leading to massive starvation and depopulation of several villages. Those of his soldiers that disagreed with such tactics and treatment were killed as well, replaced with emotionless unflinching automatons. The bubbling discontent which he had used to seize power was to slowly rise again. The peasantry not in a condition to fight had to look for other options.

With the rest of the land plunged in bloody civil war and the comparatively small size of Hagane's domain looking towards other local lords came only with scoff and rejection. They had rivals to fight and there own lands to keep peace over, not worry about removing a heavily entrenched peasant-king who seemed perfectly content living in his own bubble. And so the peasants were forced to look elsewhere. The collective elders from the various remaining villages collected up what little coinage they had to hire a group of warriors to deal with their problem

Spiritum

@HeySeuss@vietmyke@Mercenary Lord@Draken@AlexStarsion@Mike73
The thing has been done.

Spiritum

_Muzak

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“We land on the grounds of the royal place per our request beyond the reach of the public, from our landing point it's about twenty paces to the door.” Captain Rekks went over the plans yet another time. Only thirty five years of age, he looked at least ten years older from the stress. The only son of a minor noble in the inner territories who joined the military to go make a name for himself. Serving with distinction he was transferred to the Imperial Royal Guard and become captain three years earlier.

“Captain. No offense but is this really all necessary?” Colette questioned after holding her tongue for the last hour or so of the security briefing.

“Necessary? Of course it is! The Imperial Majesty entrusts me with your continued safety and we are going into heart of enemy territory here.” The captain insisted.

“Yes and my father is a very smart man for that,” Colette started, “but this isn’t a military operation captain. We are an envoy of peace are we not?”

How will I convince an entire nation that peace is opportune if I can’t even convince my own soldiers? Colette thought to herself as the disbelief began to form over the Rekks features. He attempted to speak mouth forming words but without sound. Finally he seemed satisfied and swallowed a handful of air before he spoke.

“With all do respect my lady. These people are savages and brigidiands. I wouldn't even blink an eye if they decided to try and attack us. Peace will only come once we crush them beneath our heels.” he asserted. Colette was to respond but the sound of instruments and navigation equipment blaring filled the the bridge of the Palatine.

“Captain you should see this.” A slightly panicked voice of the navigation officer called out.

Rekks give Colette a curt bow before turning around and walking quickly towards the navigation officers post. She was working at a tense and deliberate speed cycling through different commands and panels on her console. She gestured at the display ahead of her. A map displaying the Mist currents in the air, vital as to not distribute the reactor which powers the great airship. “Look.”

Colette remained where the captain had left her but shifted to the side to peer at the console. A large concentration of Mist colored an angry red upon the map moving straight towards them. A Mist storm. Mist storms were not an unheard occurrence the large deposits of arcane energy sometimes gathered into powerful destructive vacuums of energy that could alter the very fabric of reality around them. Though this was odd, such storms usually occurred in the wilds and untamed lands far beyond the reaches of civilization where such mist levels could be reached.

“Brace for impact!” Rekks shouted over the roar of the instruments as Colette turned her head toward the viewports gripping the table ahead of her. Per the nature of the Mist such storms were nearly invisible unless you knew what to look for. Colette in her extensive studies had learned some of the signs. She watched closely as the sky outside the viewpoint began to shimmer ever so slightly like a pebble had just been dropped into a lake. The shimmer grew in intensity faster and harder until the entire outside world became unrecognizable blur. The ship rumbled and shook and then it all stopped. The ship made it through the ‘otherside’.

The fading sunset cast sky had been replaced with a shining sea of stars. The land below looked completely different even as the bridge crew frantically tried to regain control of the situation. We teleported? Colette wondered though her thoughts were cut short.

“Captain...” She voiced.

“I see it.”

A large military like vessel hovered in front of them. Dark as the sky around them the entire vessel seemed to shimmer in and out of view as if the light was bending around it. It wasn’t nearly as large as the Palatine but unlike the large diplomatic cruiser this ship was obviously meant for battle.

“Is it from Rassvet?” Rekks called aloud, clutching at the gunblade at his hilt as if it would do something.

“Not that we know of sir.”

“What in the spirit's name is going on.”

Almost as if it was answering his question, the mysterious ship began to open fire on the Palatine. A sea of fire was released from the ship as heavy cannons tored into the Palatine. Warning sirens began to blare as multiple consoles on the bridge began to glow red. Colette almost fell to the ground from the force of the impact if it were not for Ardin next to her who gently held her up. She looked towards him, his face stern even as his eyes casted his unease plain and clear.

“Get the princess to the escape craft now!” Rekks yelled towards Ardin who nodded as we already dragging Colette by the hand out of the bridge most of the security team following them. Personally rushed frantically around them as they moved towards their battle stations. All the while the mysterious ship continued its bombardment.

As the made there way down a hallway the outer wall exploded. Ardin threw his hand up reflexively a barrier appearing and halting the shrapnel in mid-air. The cold wind whipped into the ship along with smell of smoke. Something came flying through the now opened access point. Smashing into the wall. Everyone froze as it slowly began to untangle itself and pull its way off of the wall. Standing so tall it brushed against the ceiling as its eyes glowed to life. One of the large fists quickly transforming into a giant cannon of sorts.

The royal guards rushed past them to engage the new foe. Without thinking Ardin pulled her down a connecting side passageway. A voice came over the intercom speaker distorted more static than anything else. “Intruders have boarded the ship. Repeat intruders have boarded the ship.”

The wall to the left of them exploded as one of the robots was thrown through it a giant spike of ice protruding from his chest as it crashed into the far wall. Out from the hole that was punched through the door one of the Imperial mages stepped outwards staff still glowing. A cadre of soldiers pouring outward around her. She looked at Ardin and nodded.

“Do you know what’s happening sir?”

“Not the faintest idea.” It was at this point that the robot eyes began to glow again and with surprisingly quick speed it grabbed the soldier closest to it and easily crushed him in its hands as it rose upward.

“Run.” The mage insisted as she turned away from the pair muttered underneath her breath as her staff began to glow once more.

Ardin and Colette made there way through the ship with speed avoiding contact with the many assailants continually being launched into the ship. They made their way down to the shuttle bay. Off from the main hangar it was used primarily in situations such as these to allow for VIPs and others to be able to escape if the Palatine was ever compromised not that the engineers ever imagined such a day would come. As they made their way across the catwalk connecting to the shuttle the ceiling above them buckled and burst open and two of the robots landed in front of them.

“Stand back.” Ardin command as he drew his rapier from its sheath.

“I can fight.” Protested Colette but he just shook his head slowly never losing eye contact with the machines. Body in a easy defense stance he watched and waited.

One of the machines raised its arm already in cannon formation and fired. Ardin flicked his hands creating the same barrier that he had made before catching the flechettes that were expended. Rather than letting them drop as he had earlier with a simple flick of his hands they shot back at the robot at twice the velocity slamming hard into its chest. There was enough force to send the robot careening off the edge and tumbling through the open sky below.

The other moved quickly rushing forward Ardin dodged out of the way as the fist came colliding with the ground though the force of the impact was still enough to throw him from his feet. He looked up at the robot that towered over him and began to mutter a spell as it raised its fist to crush him. Yet before the spell could be released an arrow slammed into the exposed circuitry around the neck and upon impact released a jolt of electricity through the machine stunning it. Seizing the opportunity Ardin rose and with a flick of his rapier severed the head from the chassis.

He looked towards Colette the bow that she had materialized in her hand already vanishing into dust. She gave him a small grin. “If you didn’t want me to fight. You shouldn't of taught me.”

Despite the situation Ardin chuckled. “Get in.”

Colette made her way around the robot and into the shuttle where she began the startup sequence. As Ardin turned to follow her inside a voice called out to him.

“And where do you think you are going Mister Kazmyr?”

Ardin pressed a button on the console sealing the shuttle door as he turned around weapon drawn.

---

As they reached the crash site the group began to spread out slowly beginning a simple Encirclement procedures around the circular depression. The centuries old trees around them were either burning pyres at this point or had their thick trunks snapped like a child’s toy in a tantrum from the force of the shockwave. The heat could be felt through their boots snapping upward trying to latch onto them. The occasional rustle of movement was heard and they all tensed before it was revealed to be a rabbit or deer running out of the danger that they were heading into. Looking up past the canopy the assault craft that had brought the ship down had seemed to have vanished from sight but if one watched carefully they could see the faint flickering outline hidden amongst the dark sky.

Setzer made no moves to hide himself or go undetected. As massive as he was such moves would've only been pushing back the inevitable. Heavy footfalls cracked scattered branches and twigs beneath his feet. He did not focus upon the movements around him which he knew were his friends, he didn’t focus on the oppressive heat the surrounded him getting hotter and hotter as they approached the epicenter of the explosion. What he did focus on was his breathing slow and steady. 1....2....3...4...5 Inhale. 1....2...3...4...5 Exhale. He repeated the process over and over again as the trees began to vanish around him and the ground sloped steadily downward into a crater as he arrived on the lip of the crash site,

What remained of the Imperial vessel crackled with flame. The shattered levithan lay in two halves standing this close what had appeared large in the sky was now enormous. Larger than some towns in Rassvet the great machine lay its metal twisted and warped. He could feel the disturbance in the air now oversaturated with Mist from the explosion. He watched small pockets of reversed gravity with rocks and pieces of scrap metal ascended into the air, areas were sparks of electricity appeared and disappeared with no discernible source. It felt like a heavy pressure pressing down upon his shoulders.

Slowly he raised a hand towards his ear and channeled the mist around him. It was one of the most basic techniques that the WARDENs learned and one of the only ones that Setzer himself could do with practical ease. He focused on the images of his friends and plucked on the invisible strings of Mist that connected them allowing for communication at a distance. Feeling the connecting take root he spoke quietly as he peered over the lip of the crater. The words coming to them as a quiet whisper on the wind.“I’m going in.”

With that Sezter slide his way down into the crater. His face scrunching up and fighting back the urge to cough because of the smoke that filled the air. As he moved about the debris careful to avoid the various magical disturbances. The sound of metal scraping across the ground drew his attention downward and he looked down ward tensing up. Some sort of large robot was dragging itself towards him. Missing its legs, one arm and half of its head, using its only remaining arm it moved slowly towards him. Glowing eyes flickering in and out. Right as it reached him the eyes shut off completely and the carcass came to a halt.

“Got some sort of robot here.” Setzer spoke as he peered down to examine it further. “Doesn’t look like anything we make or even Vangar work for that matter.”

With some level of effort he managed to flip it over and peer at its front side. He took into account the bullet holes and other assorted damage that certainly did not occur during the fall. The plating itself despite the heat around them was cool to the touch. His eyes focused upon the blood stained hand though coated with white flecks of bone. He looked up towards the sky where he knew the mysterious ship was still watching overhead. “Maybe it came from our mysterious friends.”

He stood up and made his way deeper into the wreckage. As he passed through he began to some more human bodies some in better shape than others. They were most definitely from Vangar but it was strange. They were not in the normal gear that was accustomed to the raiding parties. There uniforms seemed more ceremonial than anything else. This wasn’t what he was expecting at all. “Yo Galahad, Gideon either of you recognize these uniforms? Cause these ain’t standard military types that's for sure.”

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a groan of pain. He turned and saw movement beneath a broken off piece of the ship. He rushed over and ignoring the burning sensation of his hands against hot metal he lifted the piece off of whoever lay below. Letting it drop to the ground next to him with a thud. An older man looked up at him, graying mustache burnt and singed, he wore the dress uniform of a Vangar officer adorn with medals twisted and some only pools of metal liquid at this point. His torso had been blown open and entrails spilled out easily from within and despite it all he somehow managed to stay alive.

“Stay with me old man.” Setzer spoke as he knelt down to try and assist the man. He froze as the man placed a blood soaked hand upon his face pulling his head to look at him. His voice was weak and was almost lost on the roar of the fear around him.

“The girl....” Before he could say anything else his eyes closed and the hand fell limp from Setzer face leaving a bloody smear. He pulled away and looked following the bloody path that the man had dragged himself across before the part had fallen atop of him. He was heading in the direction of what seemed to be a shuttle of sorts that had crashed on the outer lip of the crater apparently having not been able to get out of the ship in time.

Slowly Setzer made his way over as he did he conjured up his sword. Feeling the heavy weight suddenly press down upon his back as it took form from the Mist around him. The weight gave him an ease of comfort as he grabbed the handle as he neared the shuttle. Despite the crash it had seemed that the shuttle was in relatively good condition. Protocol would of stated that Setzer should of waited for the others before he opened the vessel but protocol had seemed to vanish out the window in its entirely. The door to the shuttle had been jammed shut in the crash but that wouldn't stop Setzer slowly using his blade he prayed the metal open like a human can opener pulling the doors open.

Almost immediately an arrow shot outwards from the darkness of the cabin slamming into Setzer’s shoulder. He stumbled backwards clutching the arrow breaking off the shaft as he whispered underneath his breath to his friends. “We got a live one here guys.”

Another arrow shot forward but this time Setzer was ready and he deflected it was ease. He peered into the darkness and he could just make out the outline of two blue staring back at him. A voice called back shaking but surprisingly composed given the circumstances.

”I suggest you get the fuck back.”

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

@Gowi

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

And there y'all go. A post filled with way too much exposition but sometimes its what you gotta do.

I saw Rogue One this afternoon. It is awesome.

@Gunther

I concur it was indeed awesome. I mean I think I liked Jyn more than I did Rey, and Rey's pretty cool.

@jumpadraw
We talked about most of the general concept in the PM but I like him even more now that I got a chance to read everything over. Feel free to move him over when you have a chance. Feel free to just pretend he has been there the entire time for now since it'll be easier.

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

After dropping off the supplies that she had gathered Mus shouldered her way into the lavatory. It was a small cube barely wide enough to contain a simple sink, half-functioning sonic and a hole for everything else. A small light fixture slightly off centered switched on as the door opened. Mus had to shield her eyes from the piercing spotlight like levels of illumination; cursing she fumbled for the small dial on the side that slowly brought the light down to a low dim. Her hand shot backwards balled in a fist and hit the console once, twice, and finally on the third hit the door slammed shut behind her.

She make quick work of her outer cloak thick with the pungent smell of Nar Shaddaa and saturated with fresh blood. Above the waist she wore a simple chest binding common amongst more traditional Zabrak and Echani warriors. The lack of outerwear revealed the tapestry underneath. Where Mus lacked the facial tattoos of her people she made up with spades along the rest of her body. Most carried the distinctive look that was common with those bouncing in and out of the Imperial prison system. Each telling a simple story of years in rotation, people killed, gang affiliations and the rest. Some were more interesting though to those familiar with the iconography. Markings concurrent with many of the Separatists guerrilla groups that operated during the Clone Wars listing things from number of clones killed, to successful convoy raids.

She sighed as she turned the sink on. She waited with an annoyed familiarity as rust-colored water spilled from the faucet before steadily clearing up. She cupped the lukewarm water in her hands using it scrub away at the blood that was slowly caking on on to her skin. Despite her line of work and generally nature she had a particularly bad distaste for blood. The way that it stuck to her skin. She could tolerate it when needed but when the chance came to wash it off of her she would always take it.

Taking her discarded cloak up in her hands she dried her face after the last of the blood was washed away. Without looking she pressed her hands into one of the side metal panels and slide upward revealing a simple fingerprint scanner - one of the many smuggler compartments she had hidden around the ship. The biometric scanner hummed in approval and opened to her touch. Reaching within the compartment she produced a small medical syringe filled with a strange cloudy orange liquid. An interesting cocktail of Haladreshin and the slightest hint of Rokna blue. Developed by a fellow soldier while fighting on Jabiim it was used to stay constantly on edge, fasten reaction times and depending on the dosage negate sleep all together. The habit stuck through the war and after.

Ease and experience guided her hands as she injected the stim. The pain came first like shards of glass jammed through the vein and then a few moments later the kick happened. The world seemed to slow down for a moment, senses heightened and heart rate kicked upwards. Any sense of fatigue or pain was immediately thrown out of the window. You
felt like you could wrestle a rancor and win. Nodded her head to an imaginary beat and letting herself steady out she grabbed her outer cloak throwing it over her shoulder as she exited and made her way to the ‘kitchen’.

The kitchen was a small affair barely large enough to fit all of them and even doing so required some creativity on a few parts. Sitting atop of counters and boxes. The mixture of looks she got from the accumulated crowd ranged from disinterest to outright hatred which was expected given the circumstances that they were all in. They didn’t seem like the most talkative bunch keeping to themselves and generally looking like a bunch of mopes. The pilot finally spoke up.

“Well, we’re not late.”

The comment managed to produce a low chuckle from Mus. “Congratulations darling,” Mus clapped her hands together drawing eyes upward, “now onto business.”

“Here are the basic ground rules. One: My pay gets docked for each one of you that dies so for the love of all things just don’t please. Two: Your little gifts are linked to an implant in my head: you fuck up I trigger it you die, you get out of communication range it triggers you die, and you somehow kill me it triggers you die. So just don’t try anything. Three: Follow your orders and you might just make it out of here alive. Good? Good.” Mus explained talking with slight gesticulations of her hands like a vendor trying to sell his second-hand merch.

“Now the reason we are gathered here,” Mus kicked the small circular table and a holoprojector groaned to life displaying the picture of a gruff looking Twi’lek. “Talz'iveri.”

“Mister Ziveri used to work in Republic Intelligence before the Empire took over. A pfassk good slicer he became a highly sought after commodity once he became a freelancer. Problem is he pissed off the wrong bunch of people wanted by the Imps and several others including our employer. He went dark a few weeks ago.” Mus kicked the table and the projector switched to the next image. It was a freeze-frame of grainy camera footage and amongst a large crowd of well dressed individuals one could barely see the blue Twi’lek amongst them.

“Turns out he didn’t go dark enough. This was taken on Platform 351. Some of you may know of it. An old tibanna gas platform on Bespin. Now it's a casino, auction house, slaver outpost, drug den, or whatever other it needs to be. Used primarily by the ‘high-class’ of criminal society: politicians, industrialists, crime lords, and pirate kings as a neutral ground for deals of importance.” Mus explained. “Word on the street is that a certain is Slicer is going to be selling off some high value information including sensitive information about our client in a closed auction to these types probably figuring to make enough credits to disappear forever. We need to take him out before that happens.”

Mus smiled at her motley little group and opened her arms in a gesture to speak freely. “Any questions?”

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

@DepressedSoviet The Empire is in it.

@Sep

Some say there are wars in the stars.