[center][h1][color=green]D A R T O N   F A N X[/color][/h1][/center]

Ah, Nar Shaddaa, where you couldn't even trust the air you were breathing. 

Darton had made it a habit to grab a hotcake and bottle of Corellian ale whenever he did business in the Vertical City - which was exactly what he was doing now. He tipped the vendor a couple extra credits before grabbing his food and drink, slowly making his way through the crowded street, towards the local docking area.

He'd just finished a deal with a couple of Nikto who were selling a small cargo of precious gems - over two thousand little stones in all - for a price agreed upon by the Hutts. Fortunately the deal had gone rather smoothly, as in nobody had to pull for their blaster, and the parties went their separate ways.

So off he went, his parcel tucked inside his jacket, with carton of hotcake in one hand and bottle of ale in the other. It was a particularly smoggy evening in the city, and Darton kept his chin and mouth tucked under his zipped jacket, his breath a little short. The streets of Nar Shaddaa were always a bit of a blur, walking amongst aliens of all shape and size, with gaudy signs piping neon light into one's eyes at every twist and turn, loud cantina music or the slow strings of a gambling hall driving into one's ears, and all the while a little fight here or there and some poor unfortunate getting thrown out into the street like a piece of trash. Such was life on this forsaken moon.

Finally having reached the his landing pad, to no surprise the [i]Buzzard[/i] was waiting for him, dimly lit as the smog roiled overhead, its green accents like hanging moss over the hull, age and rust showing in places. His perfect getaway location. Shifting the hotcake over to his other hand, he reached down under the main body of his Z-95 and discreetly opened the hatch. He only cracked the compartment open a little, as the package he fished out from his jacket was fairly small, and fit into his little hidey-hole along with some other cargo that was due for delivery.

He closed up the compartment and climbed his way up to the cockpit, opened the canopy and nabbed his helmet from off the seat, where he'd left it. Sitting down in his comfy leather seat with his feet up on the console, munching on a hotcake and sipping a beer was a pleasure like no other in this beautifully corrupt place.