[hr][hr][center][color=silver][h1]Kabal[/h1][/color][/center][hr][hr]
[i]Big.[/i] The word seemed to echo in Kabal's mind as he was, indeed, contemplating how to kill such a beast as Viron Jek. The short answer was explosives. It was a relative comparison: the bigger the bad guy, the more bombs you needed. But for Jek, who seemed the size of two men stacked on top each other, well...that'd require a [i]lot[/i] of explosives, more than Kabal had on-hand. Solace asserted that no matter how big a threat Jek was, literally or metaphorically, his sights were set on the Empire, not on them. 

Kabal inwardly scoffed at mention of the Empire. His relationship with the autocratic regime had somewhat strained in recent months, no doubt due to the nasty business back on Mos Eisley on what-would-be his first day as a Gray Mariner. To any who asked, the finer details of that day escaped him, but Kabal remembered them clear-as-crystal. He did not act without incentive, he assured himself; the Empire would find no groveling wretch in him or any Ubese. Indeed, nearly everyone aboard the [i]Noreaster[/i] had slighted the Empire in some way or another; what made Jek so special for it?

[color=silver]"Get what is coming. Bigger man, harder fall."[/color] Kabal responded, butchering the old adage. It was uncertain whether his tone relayed one of confidence or simple observance of the fact. Perhaps there was a nugget of wisdom in the plainness of his words: Reavers and pirate lords going all the way back to the Old Republic had their day in the limelight, some lasting months, years, decades even. But as always, someone stronger, tougher, or just plain luckier came along and took their place. 

He was about to suggest 'acquiring' an E-Web to deal with Jek when Solace stopped almost mid-sentence to respond to a buzz in her communicator. Kabal was puzzled: his helmet had a built-in comlink tuned to the [i]Noreaster's[/i] frequency. If Piff had chewed on it again, so help him...there wouldn't be any atomic trace of Gizka left to find.

Kabal, of course, kept those thoughts to himself. Solace (and especially Requiem's) attachment to the Admiral was nothing short of baffling, which only further exacerbated Kabal's hatred for it. Sadly, the rest of the crew did not seem to share his opinion. Clu, in particular, didn't take too well to finding Kabal in his quarters under cover of darkness attempting to tamper with B-22's targeting system.

It was a ceaseless frustration, an almost perpetual miscommunication between himself and the rest of the crew. They didn't understand him or his customs, and he didn't understand them or their rituals. Even after a year, there was only the resigned acceptance that Kabal's eccentricity was a part of his nature. It was the wisdom of old spacefarers that said your crew [i]was[/i] your family. But Kabal had a family once, now no more. What did that make the Gray Mariners? 

Unwilling to answer his own question, Solace's part in a one-sided conversation with Sable brought Kabal's wayward mind back to the present. 'Subdue', 'restrain', 'negotiate a travel arrangement', the whole thing screamed 'stowaway'. Probably some alien filth trying to mooch a free ride off port. Solace didn't have to volunteer, Kabal would kill the stowaway, himself the moment he caught sight of them. There was room for only one pest onboard, and that pest was protected. That was the one thing Kabal and Five-Toes could find common ground in, albeit for different reasons. It was perhaps ironic that the only thing the two of them could agree on was what they hated more than each other. 

[color=silver]"Stowaway like spider-roaches, best dealt with flamethrower."[/color] The metallic edge of his voice carried the slightest hint of glee at the prospect. Of all Kabal's vast and highly-illegal weaponry, his wrist-mounted flamethrower held a special place in his heart. Truth was, there really was no appropriate time to [i]use[/i] a flamethrower, but Kabal countered that there really was no appropriate time to [i]not[/i] use a flamethrower. 

[color=silver]"What next move?"[/color] He asked on a final note, tensing his muscles in preparation to stand at a moment's notice. He had been itching for a bit of combat since their last mission, and to be reunited with all his gear back on the ship was an all-too-tempting idea.