Everyone in the department could feel that Clearance was overstaying its welcome, especially as Black Fryeday approached with its shivering air-conditioned gales. From the top of a Shelf, he sipped a CapriSun red through a curly straw, the burning sweetness burning a hole through his gums and down his throat. The Bin was a mountain of forgotten relics of past Departments and brands. The Curator of the Books Department had requested multiple times to do an archeological survey into its unscoured depths and he’d rejected them all the same. Aside from the risk of enraging the Stockers and awakening some malfunctioning automaton, the Cashier Of Bargain Bin felt that perhaps some items were meant to be discounted forever.
The tin-can phone rattled, the string running through the front wall vibrating like a violin string. He picked it up and immediately regretted it.
“ Sir, it’s him.” The normally svelte voice of his secretary was distorted into an monotone warble of two people speaking together in tune.
“ Send him in.”
Diplomacy and deal-making were an unfortunate part of his responsibilities as Cashier that he’d learned to deal with since the expiry of the last Cashier. Sending out squads of Lifters couldn’t be done on a whim. You had to sign paperwork. You had to discuss details of payment. You had to talk with angry or idiot clients.
This particular client, though, he wanted to exile from his Department. He wanted to trap him inside one of the Fridges Of Groceries or drop him inside the misty lands of Baby Goods, let his corpse rot until the Janitors processed his body and send him off to the Land Beyond the Lots.
The door clicked open and a man strode in, his face covered by a over-cast hood that made his face seemed like an endless chasm. He walked over towards the Cashier and simply stood instead of sitting on the pastel-coloured plastic play stool on the floor. Clever bastard.
" I’ve been considering your offer for some time now.”
“ And?” The hooded man replied.
“ Convince me why I shouldn’t have Casio here nail your head to the floor.” On cue, the aforementioned bodyguard on his right brings out a hefty looking staple gun. , He points towards his guest accusatorily. “ Do you even know what position you’ve put me in?!”
It’s not a question meant to be answered and his client knows that. He continues forth, his answer slowly transforming into a rant simmering on the edge of rage.
“ An envoy of the Gucci Guard rode him to my office and said that the Glamagesh would like a private meeting with me. As if his Highness would deign to roam around with us out-of-fashions. Rumours spreads that the Rafters are mounting yet another assault on our territory. Amboluceti have been spotted in our northern borders, even though we haven’t seen them for several seasonals.” He takes another draught of the Caprisun and glares at the arrogant smile sitting across his coffee table. “ You should have never brought that cursed thing at all.”
“ Are the claims I’ve heard about the Bargain Bin unfounded? I thought you would take in any item, no matter the condition.”
“ It’s not the condition of the item, it’s the conditions of the contract! This contract is easily worth a thousand Pachinko tickets yet the price you’re giving for this is barely enough for a Wal-Cart.” The Cashier signs. “ I’m entrusting an artifact of the Great Sam to a naive dorf, a disgraced penja, a Pet-Master and his rabid runt, a Tron Girl who talks to obscure idols, some silk-clothed noble from Clothing and a half-mannequin brat.” His temper is rising. He snaps his fingers, vein pulsing on his head, as one of his attendants pours out a fresh lick of vintage Mountain Dew for him to sample. “ You’re playing a foolish game, Greeter.”
“ Foolish?” The Greeter simply smiled a Cheshire grin. “ The fool is the one who plays by the rules of the Wal. I’m merely changing them.”
OCCUPATION: (What did you do before the campaign? Or what do you still do? This can be held prior to the campaign or ongoing.)
CAMPAIGN TEAM POSITION: (Your position under Campbell. What do you do? See first post for various ideas.)
Psychological Profile
Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait | Trait
PERSONAL GOAL: (Why are you still around? What are you trying to achieve?)
CAMPAIGN GOAL: (Why did you link up with Campbell? What are you trying to do for his platform?)
PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY: (Who are you really? What morally defines you? What drives you?)
POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY: (What are your views on the world? While a partisan identity would be nice to include, feel free to define yourself outside of the five parties.)
SECRETS: (What are you hiding? What would it cost you if someone found out what’s behind the veil?)
FEARS: (What keeps you up at night? What makes you freeze up in the moment? What do you avoid at all costs?)
REPUTATION: (How does the world view you? What are you known for? How do your people act around you?)
LIKES: (Feel free to list a few.)
DISLIKES: (Same as above)
QUIRKS: (What makes you unique for better or worse?)
Background Information
”Character Quote”
Operative Information
AUGMENTATIONS: (What sort of Cyberware are you equipped with?)
EQUIPMENT: (What are you carrying on the job?)
SKILLS: (Feel free to list a few and elaborate a bit.)
FLAWS: (Aim for three or so. Equal or greater to your number of skills.)
" Shit, I'm zoning out of here to Vegas before he notices - "
" You saw his race in 55' with the OverDriver?-"
Turn on the taps. Wash the whispers away with water.
3. 2. 1. GO!
The neon scream. The knocking of ethyl gas in the carburetor. The pounding in your head, a war dance of high speed collisions and illegal stunts. The edge of death that he craves for, yet, he knows he has to avoid.
3. 2. 1. GO!
He closes off the taps and stares back haggardly as if he's been holding his breath underwater for several hours. Blood, sweat and dead skin swirl down in the bone-white porcelain basin. Hands, of both flesh and chrome, grip the side of the sink steadiy as he stares back at his broken reflection. He's careful not to let water spill on the biweave jacket hanging on the lip of the basin. He dips his head back into the basin and gurgles out his anxiety in slow spits.
The tap-water between his fingers still feel like molasses. It's unbearable to him how slow the world outside of an 1500 HP engine is. To feel the syn-crete on your feet instead of asphalt on poly-plas tires. To see a frozen world with your corneas instead of the blurry, high-speed dream. To walk instead of drive. He splashes a few more droplets on his face, trying to rinse off the smell of stewed sweat in his hair. The jitters of race-fueled adrenaline in his fingers are long gone now, its absence making his hairs feel clammy like old snake skin. He grabs the hood of his jacket before pushing open the door only to be met with a blast of coppery air.
A single street light barely manages to illuminate the contours of his ride's bulk. Just as he's a few meters away, the automatic doors peel open like an butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. He checks his gloves, tightening the straps, whilst checking the horizon. Him, the gas station attendant and a couple of no ones lazing about underneath the roof. Just how he liked it. The less busier the crowd, the more free the roads would be for him.
500 feet above the teeming masses, a tri-copter drone slowly takes pictures of the lonely figure with its hyperspectral cameras, the lenses shuttering and opening with minute clicks. It flutters mid-air for a while before disappearing in the dead of the night. >CONNECTING TO LABYRINTH VPN...... >SCRAMBLING IDENTITY SIGNATURES >GENERATING SECURITY KEYS >CONNECTED TO ROUTERS
>LOGIN >ENTER PASSWORD
*****************
>ENGAGING BIO-VOC CONFIRMATION. >USER 45-239-#9050 CLEARED TO ENTER THE LABYRINTH >OPENING DATA SIFTER..... >ENTER QUERY >:THE DRIFT DEMON >PROCESSING............
Alright. Let's see whose dirty little secret you are, Drift Demon.....
://DRIFT_D3MON.EXE
Put the pedal to the mettle and pedal to the metal
TOP SPEED OF 29 KPH| MALE MODEL | 5'8 HP ENGINE| RATED B FOR BURNING RUBBER
PROVIDING GENERAL INFORMATION
He’s encountered plenty of strange Zoners over the years from Bangkok techno-pilgrims to Johannesberg mercenaries. This one's new, though.
“ Card please.”
Another quarter hour on his paycheck meets him dressed in a striped thermoweave 2020 bomber and plated slacks. Connie, for a moment, curses Gatch for defunding the regional borders of South City and reducing regulations. Being the only booth in 100 klicks means that every nobody and no ones wanting to go into the Reclaim Zone needs to go through him. He stares at the clock. 30 more minutes. Half an hour. Just a little while longer. He stares back up at the silent statue of a man and repeats his request again. " Card please." Connie wonders or not he needs to repeat his question but the stranger seems to read his mind. A aramid-plated fingerless glove slides a smudged NID over on the countertop. , Slotting in the NID, the monitor begins to whirr, carbon-silicate processors fishing out data from the depths of the Labyrinth.
“ Had to come at midnight, didn’t you?” Connie muses as he extends an Engitech stylus, doing standard calibration procedures that have become habit by now. “ You’re lucky that you caught my last shift.”
“ Not luck.” The mysterious rider says. “ Speed.”
You're not just some upstart, are you? No, this stranger's a racer. As he waited for the data retrieval to complete, Connie looked at the new arrival to South City more closely. His eyes were hardened and wizened beyond his years like old tarmac. His mud-brown hair was pepper gray at the fringes. The pungent aroma of micro-lubricant cloyed on his skin. So, you're a greasemonkey too, eh? The only chrome on him was a jack-port growing out of his collarbone along with a maze of circuits and surgery scars criss-crossing up the right side of his neck. The beeping from his monitor forced him to pay attention to it as the data records scrolled up line by line on the LED screen.
NAME: Keah Kaito
ALIASES//TITLES: N/A
CURRENT AGE: 26
SEX: Male
PAST OCCUPATIONS
- Professional Combat Racer (APEX Incorporated) - Assistant Automotive Technician (The Drive-Through)
CURRENT OCCUPATIONS
- Delivery Man (Suraiboshen Standard)
Suraiboshen Standard….Isn’t it that fancy omakase place down near the corporate districts?
“ I don’t suppose you have any aliases, do you?” The racer pauses. Connie takes it as a signal to continue on. “ I mean, it’s optional but you know, not asking for a fingerprint- “
The answer nearly made him drop his stylus. He tries to fill in the empty field but he balks at the first letter already. He slides the nid over back towards him in a hurry and tries to keep his composure until the fucking - why? - goes out. He sits back and processes what he just saw before shaking his head. Nope. Nope. He didn't see anything. Absolutely nothing at all.
It’s probably about time that he took early leave too. He taps a button, the neon sign outside the booth switching from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED' before checking whether or not there's any good tour deals this season.
Why did South City have to attract the fucking Drift Demon of all people?
://open message Y/N?
>Y
://opening private file .....
Congratulations on making it to South City. I hope the drive through the wastes wasn't too inconvenient for you. You probably knew this already but you've made the position. It took a lot of convincing but you're now the personal driver of the Pirate Party's campaign.
Your personal responsibilities are as follows.
- Transportation and transfer of all members involved in Serena Petrukov's council campaign, from locations within and out of South City. - To consult on and advise on possible transport schedules and routes - To maintain, modify and change your transport vehicle of choice in order to ensure that all journeys will be as smooth as possible. - To evacuate Serena Petrukov and all relevant personnel in the Pirate Party away from danger.
Confirmation and discussion of your payment and benefits will come in later meetings. For now....
KZZZZZTTTTT - Another delivery today. Two servings of chutoro to some cushy corporate woman living up near Hostel 13. Rent's going up. Mohan's joking that they'll be making tuna an extinct species if business like this keeps going up.
Look at me. Going from the Drift Demon of the Death Derby to Deliveryman of South City. What would you think of me, OverDriver?
You once told me that drivers like us get to have quick deaths or live quick dreams. That you'd prefer a quick death. A quick death was my dream. Once. I don't know how you can bear it. Being lost. Believing that you've got only one road in life and disregarding all the other routes you could have taken.
That's where we're different, OverDriver. I came here for a dream. The dream to free the Islanders. To free the Sunken. To free my people from their chains of those filthy corporate omoomo ule. Even if they don't want me to.
No more driving away from my problems. I'm going to drive towards my problems now.
- KZZZZZTTTTTTT
CAMPAIGN GOAL
Chado,
I need three assurances if the Party wants me as their driver.
- Give all remaining documented and undocumented Pacific Islanders living within South City official citizenship and legal personhood.
- Section off a block for us to live in safely.
- To open investigations into Amalgamation's conduct and charge them with corruption and corporate misconduct.
If the Pirate Party isn't willing to gut Amalgamation for me and my people, then, you're not the fixer you claim to be.
Do this for me and I'll drive whoever you need. Whenever you need me. Wherever you need me.
>READY TO SEND MESSAGE Y/N >Y >SENDING..... >PRIVATE MESSAGE SUCCESSFULLY SENT
PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY:
I want to be free. We all deserve to be free. It's in our natural states to be freed, not to be tied down and neutered by the whims and wishes of those living in their ivory towers. I'm not gonna be a passenger and wait for someone to drive me to my next destination. The only way to achieve freedom is to live life fast and on the move. To live life between the ticks of the tachometer. To feel the engine thrumming between your fingers. To slow down is to surrender. There is only one way to move and that's forward.
I'm a driver. I drive wherever I go, whenever I want and whoever I want in my car.
POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY:
The Luddites. Hyperhumans. The Transhumans. The Central Party. I only have one question to ask them.
Where were you?
When our islands sank to the ground, when our councils sat on their asses and shrugged their shoulders, when no aid was sent, when our people died from dehydration by the thousands, what did the world do? Nothing. What did years of bureaucratic bargaining and corporate deals do for the Islanders? Nothing. We were an political inconvenience to them.
We got our food supplies when fixers set us up with underground hydroponic smugglers from the East. We got our work visas from Cuban hackers who got in touch through fixers. Our corporate taxes got filed and burned by a Thai slicer. We got access to the Labyrinth from black-hat hackers. If my time in the Ark has taught me, it's better to deal with those who get their hands dirty rather than the ones who have clean hands. That's why the Pirate Party's got my support in this election.
SECRETS:
If word was to get out that I was a Pacific Islander, the Enforcers would come after me and send me back to wherever they've got the rest of them holed up now. Given that I'm also a member of the Ark, well, I don't think life imprisonment is something that I want to risk at the moment.
The Drift Demon isn't my personal secret anymore. It's a secret shared among a group of individuals and I'm not keen on shouting out who I am unlike some other racers. Let's just say I didn't make a lot of friends back in the Death Derby. Word goes out that the Drift Demon is around and they're going to greet with open guns instead of open arms.
FEARS:
For most of us Islanders, it's the sea. It's not the storms that kill you. It's the thirst and then, the madness. People adding caff sweeteners to salt water to rid them of their throats. I'll never go on a boat as long as I live. Never again.
But, that's not what I fear most. Or rather, who I fear most.
I fear myself. Of losing myself to the race and becoming a slave to my own desires. To forget those closest to me and favor the wheel. The Drift Demon. I didn't earn it from some hungry media journalist. I earned it through a road paved on blood, bones and treachery. If I lose control, if I give myself over to the car, what becomes of me?
To be the Drift Demon is my greatest nightmare of all.
REPUTATION:
Yeah? Like I said before, better luck for Yialla next season. If she was a little more confident on her turns, I could see-
What? The Drift Demon? I thought this interview was about me?
Who’s the Drift Demon? I’ll tell you who he isn’t.
He’s not my buddy. He’s not my cousin or brother. He’s not some experimental full-body aug Android like those conspiracy types like to say nor is he some genetic freak of experiment from Gaea Naturae. Don’t believe everything from the Labyrinth is.
He’s a racer. Back in 53', he arrived on the scene with a beat up Toreador that looked like it came straight out of the scrapyards. Everyone was laughing at him until he made third place. A fresh rookie who rejected every sponsorship from APEX to Engitech. Six months ago, he tied with me. Who knows what will happen during the next season finals? No, I'm not going to say it.
So, who is he to me? I’m the OverDriver and he’s the Drift Demon. That’s who he is. He’s the yin to my yang, the north to my south, whatever feng shui Buddhist crap comes from Tokyo. It’s me and him going for first place and everyone else gunning for last.
So. Who are you, then?
LIKES: - Racing No - Fresh Sushi - More Racing Stop it - Automobile Modification - Did we mention Racing? Definitely not. - Being on the Move
DISLIKES - Pre-Pack - Racing Are you sure? - Gaudy Cars - The Sea - Racing I don't think so. - Oppression of The Deprived - Corporate Scum - Racing You're lying to yourself - Bosozoku Bastards
QUIRKS: - Tapping his foot, his finger, snapping, to move and fidget when he's staying still. - Commenting and criticizing on vehicles he encounters whenever he gets a chance. - Flipping off bosozoku.
Background Information
" Gah, don't stop movin' that arc-cutter before ya burn yourself, boy!" Gasket's growl interrupts him from his focus as the plasma welder nearly falls out of his hand. " Jeez, these islanders.....telling you Rob....never shoulda allowed them here."
Don't stop moving. It's the last words that his dad ever told him. The memory of his parents, his brothers, his sisters may have rotted and decayed from the tides of time but he keeps their last words closely like a treasure.
He remembers the Great Pacific Exodus. Unstable climatic conditions and rising water levels were an annoyance to the rich nations of the world but for his people, it was an existential crisis.A Category 3 hurricane first took Kiribati. Then, the flooding made Samoa uninhabitable. The rest of Polynesia and Micronesia followed. The corpo execs and employees were evacuated first, along with all of the tourists. The rest of them were forced to fend for themselves in that boiling sea. All he remembers is of it is the journey, his ship waterlogged, the hull sinking to the ground 10 miles from shore. How Amalgamation offered them resettlement programs that offered them safe harbor in South City.
The dissapearances began 4 months after they arrived. Rumours that Amalgamation were forcibly kidnapping people to test new augs spread around their little neighborhood. He was young and foolish, trapped in naveity, content to believe the sweet patronisations of corporate figureheads. That was until the remaining leaders of their little bloc didn’t take their mutiny well. He wondered if it was right that day to join on the side of the rebels, to lick the sewer water of the streets instead of corporate boots.
Whilst the rest of the Islanders stayed behind, content to stay imprisoned and chained to Amalgmation's whims, the Ark formed; a group of exiles who decided that they weren't going to stay under Amalgmation's They moved north to Portland and spread out to shake their trail as Enforcers began trailing them. The strategy by their leader, Noah, was simple. Spread out, decentralize and integrate into their communities. Every member of the group had to chip in as well. Some chose a life of crime whilst others chose honest work. Like him.
" What are ya doin' just standin' there, boy!" Gasket shouts out towards him. " Keep moving!"
He picks up the titanium gyro-mallet and begins hammering out the bent and buckled chassis of the 2030 Courier with solid strikes.
Don't stop moving.
Can't stop moving.
Won't stop moving.
A climate refugee. An exile from a group of exiles. His nation underwater. His family gone. Every race fan and driver would be shocked to learn that the Drift Demon, the Dock Devil himself, would come from such a rough and tumble background. Keah’s young and impressionable mind, needless to say, wasn’t in the most stable of states when he signed up for Portland’s local Death Derby at the ripe age of 17. He made a name for himself in the pits when rumours started spreading among the regular racers that they would be facing a guy who had made a car entirely by himself. The absurdity of the situation only increased when they realised that the racer was a greasemonkey.
All of it was worth it, though. In his first race, Keah took third place. Local commentators immediately wrote it off as a fluke. Then, he took second. Then, first. People woke up and began to pay attention.
Things began taking a turn, though. Witnessing the famous crash of the OverDriver in 57’ was a wake up call for Keah.
Realising that he’d been driving away from his responsibilities and the fate that his desires would eventually land him in, Keah took an early retirement, much to the chagrin of every race fan and rival. A racer retiring in his prime was equivalent to a predator hibernating in the middle of a kill. His prodigious skill set eventually landed him the job of a sushi delivery man at Suraiboshen Standard, which outsourced Michelin three star grade omakase meals to anyone. At the right price.
Eventually,
Operative Information
AUGMENTATIONS:
//Custom Vinci Dynamics Octo-Dactyl CyberHand 5.5
Vinci Dynamics. A New Renaissance for a New Age.
After losing most of his right hand in a grievous post-race feud with the Car Czar, Keah agreed to be the primary test bed for a start-up Italian tech corporation known as Vinci Dynamics. Whilst Vinci Dynamics no longer lives on due to becoming a subsidiary of Amalgamation, their augmentations and products have become valued keepsake items in America. Vinci Dynamic's augmentations notably differ from the rest of the market by pushing the envelope of design and pursuing a more avant-Garde approach towards cybernetic physiology.
Composed out of a mixture of carbo-aramid fiber and a specialised composite metallic foam alloy, this eight digited cybernetic hand comes with miniaturized rotary joints that allow a high degree of inhuman flexibility and reinforced myolon systems strong to crush concrete. Each digit can move independently of one another, thanks to an inbuilt intuitive artificial redundant neural system linked up to Keah's brain.
Aside from this, the index finger contains an inbuilt manual ignition key for the TrailBlazer as part of a two-step security protocol.
EQUIPMENT:
EngiTech Auto-Division RedLine III
EngiTech's new RedLine is a reliable favourite of racers who compete in both the underground Death Derbies and the nationally beloved Metro Prix. Whilst aesthetically less sleek and modern than most of its other competitiors such as the FuryTech Prism, it makes up for it with reliability and protection. The carbo-plast titanium dipped bi-weave affords the user an incredible amount of trauma protection with the polarised uni-aperture visor shielding the user's eyes from distractions.
As with most modern racing helmets, the RedLine HUD can be interconnected to the sub-systems of the user's vehicle, allowing the user to view details such as the condition of their vehicle, the level of charge left remaining in the users batteries and mileage. Similar to the ubiquitous Tele-Links, the RedLine provides an option for the user to control their car through voice commands whilst being outside of the vehicle. However, the user must maintain proximity within a 200 m radius of the car.
//The TrailBlazer
I'm not gonna ride on the backs of giants. I'm gonna make one from their corpses.
The personal vehicle of the Drift Demon, having gone extensive modifications over the years since Keah first received it. Unlike most other drivers who stick to one brand and one brand only, Keah's car is entirely jury-rigged from a collection of other cars, collecting the best parts of each to fuse into one Frankenstein monstrosity. The only distinguishing trait that marks it out from other cars is the distinctive striped '666' painted on the front hood. The rear compartments contain toolboxes and spare parts in which Keah can perform quick fixes when he's not at his own personal garage.
CURRENT SPECS
Plate: CA 6117
Color: Two Tone Vanta Obsidian/Hot Rod Crimson
Engine: Rear-Mounted Turbo-Charged 10.00 L 1200 HP XLRH99 Fusor
Transmission: Digital Assisted Manual Sequential AWD
Body: Carbon-Boron Oly-Laminate Sheeting With Reinforced Titanium-Ceramic Plating
Chassis: SLS Manufactured Composite Alloy
PERFORMANCE
- 0-60 in 0.9 seconds - Top Speed of 580 MPH
OTHER PARTS - Takahashi-Avica Conqueror VERGE Front Bumper - Toreador Motorworks Nimbus Dual-Nitro Injection System - Engi-Tech Axle-Back Integrated Sifter Exhaust System - Tamago MG-LV WindRose Model R Smart Tires - APEX Auto-Division Gull-Wing Steering Wheel - Engi-Tech Auto-Division Orbital Memory Foam Cushioning
SKILLS
//Death’s Chaffeur - He's not that Driver. He's the Driver. Keah's driving skills are unparalleled and seemingly supernatural, even amongst the veteran racers of the Death Derby or the Iron Rally 500. To survive and thrive in the deadly, high-stakes environment of Combat Racing and earn the name of Drift Demon takes not only talent and technique but the ability to adapt to any situation at hand, which Keah has in spades, able to switch on fly from a careful, rule-abiding citizen of the Zone to a law-breaking turboblazer. This experience also allows him to act as a capable getaway driver and instinctively predict the mannerisms and actions of other drivers on the road without a single mistake. One thing's for certain. You don't get publically announced as an official 'rival' by the OverDriver without something to back up your reputation.
So, when you decide to challenge the Drift Demon in his territory, you better be prepared for him to take you to deep water and drown you in asphalt.
//P.H.D in Auto Physiology - What distinguishes Keah from most other racers on the streets is that he doesn't rely on a Keah doesn't merely know how to drive a car; he knows a car from inside to out. Whilst he's not a talented Ripper Doc or a HyperHuman augmentation specialist, Keah possesses adaquate knowledge on how to repair, maintain, modify and ,yes, manufacture automobiles to suit his needs or the needs of anyone else. This also extends to a keen understanding of being able to intuitively pick up and assess the advantages and weaknesses of every car possible, just based on the sound of the engine.
//5-Star Delivery - Keah is singlehandidly responsible for why Suraiboshen delivery services are so valued among those who can shell out enough dollars for it. Years of experience driving within South City has bestowed upon Keah a encyclopediac GPS within his own brain of every possible journey, tour, route and detour within the vast arcology. Keah has also become a meticulous indivdual when it comes to planning journeys and routes, scouting out roads and thoroughly researching potential hazards and secret routes in order to reduce his boredom on the mind-numbing amount of sushi deliveries he has to make.
FLAWS
//Speed Samurai, Not Street Samurai
- Driving skills do not translate to an ability in combat situations outside of vehicles. Whilst Keah isn't completely blind to the art of spilling blood with your own bare hands, he can't be counted to do much in combat situations other than running people over with his car.
//Turbo'Blazin Blood - All those who follow the path of the High Way are known to have high-octane blood that reeks of ferocity and unbridled rage. This same blood boils within the Drift Demon's veins, making him extremely reckless in pulse-pounding situations and always resorting to violent responses when he is emotionally compromised or agitated. This may be harmless outside of a car but when he's inside a car, good luck getting him out. Keah's refusal to take Neurosynth to reduce the mental degredation caused by his cybernetics also excaberates his blood thirsty tendencies.
//The Price of a Name - You don't get called Drift Demon without breaking a few eggs and bodies along the way. Keah's reputation as well as his past actions have attracted unsavory individuals, including riled gang members, uppity street racers and disgruntled bosozoku, itching to challenge him in his territory. Whilst going to South City has turned the heat off his back, Keah's involvement in the elections may prove to bring back familiar faces.
Guys, no questions, this is my official pairings thread. Also, I will bump this thread pathologically until I form a multi-page interest check. You have been warned.
DA BORK RULEZ
1) There is only Bork. 2) You are Bork. 3) This thread is Bork. 4) Soon, the whole world will be borked to Bork.
DA BEST PAIRINGS IN DA WURLD
- ROCK (ME/YOU) X PAPER (ME/YOU) X SCISSORS (ME/YOU) - THE PLANT (ME) X SUNLIGHT (ME) X CARBON DIOXIDE (YOU) X WATER (YOU) - INCEST - TRUCK (ME) X JAYWALKER (YOU) - COCAINE (ME) X THE STRAW THAT GOES UP YOUR NOSTRILS (YOU) - SPACE SQUID (ME) X SPACE SPERM WHALE THAT EATS IT BECAUSE THAT'S HOW THE FOOD CHAIN WORKS (YOU) - IMBALANCED POWER RELATIONSHIPS VERSION ONE MILLION
[b][u]FANDUMS[/b][/u] - Foodfight the Movie - The Smurfs Movie - The Bee Movie - Toy Story - Freddy Got Fingered - Every M.Night Shyamalan Movie. Ever. - Every Uwe Boll Movie.
Yeah, it would be great if there wasn't such bullshit like character limits. I swear to god, the amount of times I had to cut up a Discord post into several just because it was too long.....
The Tron’s aim was true as the pair of bolts lodged into the Mister’s body, first in his chest and then his jaw. Scat had managed to push himself away from the mad shopper in time. The first arrow in the pirate’s left breast made him hunch over while the second one struck his jaw and sent him spinning to the ground. His handheld crossbow splashed into the inundated floor of the storage cabin.
Soon to be dead. Scat wasn’t sure whether to euthanize him or let the Spillway take him to a watery burial. He didn’t have time to decide as the Detergent continued to topple on top of itself, threatening to send them all plunging into a drowning death if they didn’t escape soon. In the madness, Scat somehow found purchase on the Tron’s hand, his plate size palms grabbing on for dear life with a bone crushing grip. The Q-Tip sent a jolt of agony with every slight movement he made. Even the simple task of standing was a trial, a marathon of his willpower. Paw. He focused on that. I need to find Pa-
Another Q-Tip hit him from behind and Scat was regretting not having crushed the Mister’s head underneath his boot. The hot burning sensation bounced up and down his spine like a rabid Chihuahua, boiling his nerves. By the time he was sensate, he tried to get up.
But couldn’t. Scat frowned. He was no baby chick. This was a simple matter of -
Nothing. Simply nothing. Scat looked back and found the answer to his predicament. The Q-Tip had penetrated firmly in the lower back of his spine.
His legs were now just lumps of dead meat. Stiff. Frozen forever. The Mister laughed a low chuckle, deluded and separated from the Wal around him. Scat found it a miracle that he was still able to speak.
“ If any of you realised what your friend’s got there…” One of the Mister’s hands pointed towards the card in Scat’s grasp. “....you’d kill him for it too.” Scat noticed a tuft of white fur skulking behind the Mister. “ You’ll be a pack of fish food soon, Lifter. Got any final words for me?”
Scat replied with a sharp whistle.The pirate chuckled darkly.
“ Perhaps, you’ve bled too much red already, Pet-Mas”
His words became a blood-sputtering garble, Paw taking the opportunity to clamp his jaws around the Misters neck. Scat watched with satisfaction as the rabbit wrenched his head back and tore out a massive dripping chunk of the former helmsman throat. The Mister’s bald head shook left and right like a bobble head, spasming as what looked like a tongue slapped out of the wound in his neck like a wriggling earthworm. Muzzle tinged red, Paw hopped towards him, each hop becoming more slowly as he neared him. The rabbit’s button nose flared to take in the scents before chittering rapidly. Scar hand’s rubbed through his Pet’s fur. It was something he did to calm himself.
The life floaties had docked into the open hole blown on the side of the Detergent, boots stepping down on the sinking floor. The apparent leader, a clothshanger strapped to his stump of a left hand, signalled them with a beckoning wave.
“ WHAT ARE YE ALL ‘TANDING THERE FOR! GET IN OR GET SHAM WOWED!”
DISCLAIMER: WIZARD COPS IS FILMED WITH THE MEN AND WOMEN OF ANY MAGICAL SPECIES OF MAGIC LAW ENFORCEMENT. ALL WIZARDS ARE INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT IN A COURT OF LAW.
concepts
- script style format like the TV show? - no big bad guy. dark wizards are like the equivalent of serial killers. - tv show being filmed live to educate modern society about the dangers that the Wiz-Cops face on a daily basis.
crimes - wand licenses, broom licenses, - potions and talisman and rare magical parts trafficking - magical creatures - drug stings - voodoo doll assaults
Ssorry, but I'm already cold-blooded. I prefer to kill in hot blood.
How long do you usually write? Several paragraphs or more. Do you enjoy writing collaborative posts for things like conversations, combat, etc.? Absolutely. Is grammar and depth of writing important to you? Abso-fucking-lutely. Are there any writing subjects you particularly enjoy exploring? Moral ambiguity. Angst. Regret. War. Normalization of violence. Honor. Is there anything you really dislike and want to avoid like the plague? Sexual violence. ERP fetishization. Slavery fetishization. Gratuitous scenes of sadism and torture porn. Is there something you are uncomfortable with happening to your character? Nope. The mos I would be uncomfortable is if some player hijacked my character and did something with them without my say-so. Do you have any short-term or long-term goals with this character?
My short terms with this character is to explore the underworld of the galaxy, interact with multiple different characters that are scraping the bottom of the barrel and are on top of the barrel as well as fun bounty hunting jobs with gratuitous consumption of flesh on the side. My long term goals overall are to explore whether or not a Trandoshan can still be a real lizard bean and a real hero, despite their status as a monster, by forcing him through morally complex situations, along with his ambition to form a new Bounty Hunter House in the Guild.
Name: Cleqq Yrsbahk Species: Trandoshan Homeworld: Trandosha Age: 41 Gender: Male Recorded Specialization: Close Quarters Brutalization Assassination Current Area of Operation: [UNKNOWN] Individual's last known sighting was within the Nal Hutta system.
Detailed appearance. Imagery insufficient.
Standing a head and a half above most individuals in the Mid-Rim, Cleqq boasts the typical recognizable reptilian characteristics of a Trandoshan. Having suffered enough combat for multiple lifetimes, his coat of scaly emerald skin is positively riddled with the past signs of blaster burns and grievous scars. His left nostril looks as if it's been chewed off by a sarlacc and black, pupiless eyes stare out from his frilled head. The amputated claws on his left hand have been replaced with durasteel substitutes, no less deadly than their original counterparts. His mouth is locked in a permanent fanged smirk, more than often subconsciously licking his lips with his slimy tongue. He bears a tattoo of the Trandoshan sigil for 'Hunt' on his left jowl.
Given that there's no footwear in the galaxy that can accommodate Trandoshan claws, Cleqq forgoes boots and mostly walks around bare-foot, unless under exceptional circumstances. Cleqq prefers to heighten his bulk with a suit of protective armor, preferring to walk around in a full tanned body-suit all the time with thick pauldrons and heavy plating. Both of his pauldrons have been decorated to include the symbol of the Bounty Hunter Guild as well as his serial bar code from his time spent as a Republic mercenary on his left breast.
Report on skills and talents, including level of skill.
Cleqq, like every Trandoshan, has an inborn talent for hunting and tracking down his targets, having spent most of his childhood tracking beasts through the jungles of Trandosha. A city is just a jungle with buildings and skylanes. Years of serving on the Bounty Hunter Guild sharpened and honed his innate tracking instincts by looking for and connecting together clues that would seemingly have no relation with one another. His relentlessness allows him to track targets located systems away.
In a bounty hunter’s short yet terribly exciting life, they are bound to encounter numerous cultures and races from every sector of the galaxy and are expected to communicate with all manner of creature. Cleqq is able to to speak fluent Dosh and Basic, whilst being conversational in Jawa Trade Talk and a beginner in Huttese. Nevertheless, he has picked up a truly impressive amount of slang from all cultures in the galaxy; half of which consists of heinous profanity, a quarter of which consists of directions to the nearest space dock and another quarter that consists of sexual innuendos.
Cleqq is a terrible pilot and every neophyte pilot with a probationary space license could probably outfly him. He knows how to park a vehicle and safely engage hyperspace but the amount of times he’s had to pay for spaceship repairs because of his negligence has cut into his yearly salary. Therefore, Cleqq usually hires pilots for his job or takes public transportation.
A history of violence and survival is embedded in a Trandoshan's genetic code which is responsible for their reputation as being the rivals of the savage Wookies. Cleqq possesses his species extranormal strength and physical constitution, allowing him to crack necks with a twitch of his hands and snap blasters in half with ease, as well as being able to regenerate lost tissue and limbs from wounds sustained during missions. His natural claws can be useful in a pinch to flay unarmored targets. As the Trandoshan are a warrior species, every member of their species is noted to have an especially high pain tolerance as well. Infrared vision supported by hypersensitive pupils help him in tracking down a target.
Also, he’s a great cook. Just don’t ask where he gets his meat from……
Report on known combat experience, training and weapons training.
Having taken over 300 bounty hunting contracts throughout his 15 year career and having been mentored thoroughly by Treak, Cleqq has experienced a wide array of hostile combat situations ranging from Outer Rim pirates, rogue mercenaries, hired guns and even the odd Force user. There is rarely anything that will phase him nor is there anything that he doesn't have a backup plan for.
Cleqq's reputation as the SlaughterHouse within the Bounty Hunter Guild are mainly due to his preference for close quarters brawling, mixing firepower and his Trandoshan strength to absolutely destroy anyone who gets in the way of his acquistions. His unarmed skills focus on crippling and dismantling the target with as little fuss, striking vital points and preferring lethal incapacitation whilst using superior firepower to blast away anyone else who tries to make it close to him. Unless you’re one of those stinkin’ Force sensitives, a combat droid or another Wookie, going into personal combat with Cleqq is considered hazardous for your health.
However, he has a great deal of difficulty using weapons that are not adapted for Trandoshan digits, finding it difficult to adapt in situations whereby blasters of his size are not avaliable. Likewise, Cleqq has a reputation within the Bounty Hunter's Guild for being horrendous at being a sniper, thus, his preference to do close quarters assassinations with his bare hands rather than killing someone from far away through the lens of a scope.
Detailed notes on common/favored employers and any noteworthy contacts.
//Yiilo Vans - A Pyke member of the Black Sun Syndicate and a notable employer of Cleqq's who wants to advance his way up the totem pole of the organisation ladder by having Cleqq do his dirty deeds.
//Aiolin Gavell - A corrupt Republic peacekeeper who cooperates with the underworld and bounty hunters, believing it to be the only way to control crime in the Outer Rim. He frequently employs Cleqq to assist him in Republic peacekeeping matters in return for keeping him clean on Republic records.
//Bim Bom - A Jawa tech smuggler and tinkerer who uses the guise of a space-borne restaurant as a front for his illicit activities. He considers Cleqq to be his most reliable customer and supplies the Guild with tech to use on their contracts. In return for his services, Bim Bom gets a small cut of Cleqq's bounties.
//Kuyaipa Gjunc - A Rodian representative of the Bounty Hunter's Guild who acts as Cleqq's handler and fixer of sorts, informing him of current bounties to pursue and acting as a middle man for Cleqq's clients.
Detailed notes on known rivals and enemies.
// Rann Dyhl - Famed Mandalorian mercenary. Cleqq suspects him of having murdering his old mentor.
// Racallakrsk - A Wookie Bounty Hunter who possesses a deep hatred of Trandoshans as his father was a veteran of the Trandoshan-Wookie wars. He’s itching to find an excuse to kill Cleqq by any means necessary.
// Zym Gesell - The leader of a notorious band of Outer Rim pirates, Azure Glaive, and the survivor of the Red Rancors, a pirate crew that was exterminated by none other than Cleqq Yrsbahk himself on a government contract.
List and description of other known associates, including subordinates.
// Khoss Liell - Cleqq's professional partner whom he owns a life debt to and unofficial second-in-command of the Venataan Consortium, even though he pathologically insists on striking out on his own.
List of known belongings, including but not limited to planetary surface property, civilian and military vessels, vehicles, weapons, tools.
// Biragwin DXR-A - Formerly belonging to his former mentor, Treak Villis, this gun fires a high -powered energy blast that wreaks havoc on the molecular structure of anything it touches. Flesh,duraplast, starship hulls, nothing is immune except for the strongest of materials in the galaxy. This devastating power comes at the cost of being hideously ineffective at long ranges and heavy recoil. Modifications have been made such as filing the grip to be used with Trandoshan digits, Tibanna porting to reduce recoil as well as a LR scope.
// The TripTrap - A makeshift bola launcher scavenged from the remnants of a Wookie bowcaster. This contraption uses a gas compressed mechanism similar to slugthrowers to launch a bola composed of carbon-durasteel fibre. The momentum is enough to knock the wind out of most acquisitions and any of those who are still sensate will find themselves unable to move.
// BL-90 Special - Heavy blaster pistol. Reliable, durable and packs a punch in a tiny package.
// Chalon Hatchet - Chalon is the discount version of the Mandalorian’s Bes’kar steel. It can’t resist lightsabers but it’s versatility is almost as reknowned as its rarity, only being available in small deposits on Trandosha. This hatchet was a birthday gift to Cleqq from one of his Trandoshan friends.
// Armored Vac-Suit - Cleqq’s old security guard vac-suit, a keep-sake from his time in Kuat Drive Yards, has been modified with duraplast and durasteel plating for protection. No helmet, of course. It’s Trandoshan tradition to never wear a helmet into combat.
// ZX Dual-Spectrum Electroscope - A portable electroscope with modular magnification with a maximum range of 3.0 klicks. It includes thermal imaging software for one to spot their targets from far away during night time.
// Utility Bandoliers - Instead of carrying on him in one giant pack, Cleqq instead has multiple bandoliers strapped on his person to carry all his supplies such as water purification tablets, his set of playing cards and ammo for his blasters.
// Mystery Meat Ration Sausage - As Trandoshan are obligate carnivores, this dried log of meat is packed full of proteins, with each bite a full meal. The recipe on how to make it is a family secret. Just don’t question what’s in it and the taste is bearable.
Psychological evaluation Of Bounty Hunter.
Cleqq is ruthless, vicious and utterly unrelenting in fulfilling the requirements of a contract, possessing a thirst for blood that makes him prone to sudden bouts of violence when provoked. However, unlike most bounty hunters who do it for the fame or greed, Cleqq's motivations for pursuing a career choice such as this are of superstition, believing that each bounty done successfully will earn him Jagganath points and increase his so-called Score, the crux of social status within Trandoshan society. He also possesses a honor code, only hunting down acquisitions that he believe can fight back or provide him with a good battle. Furthermore, Cleqq fully believes in honoring life-debts and will make sure to pay back those who saved his life in full.
Years of spending time in the Bounty Hunter's Guild have mellowed him down considerably as much as a Trandoshan can, having a sardonic disposition whilst also casually interspersing threats of disembowelment and beheadings like an afternoon conversation over tea.
List and description of known and suspected flaws. To be put into restricted database.
Whilst Cleqq is good at tactics for killing people or bringing in people alive, he has a twitchy blaster finger and is always eager to start fights rather than to let others start fights. Combined with his lack of patience, Cleqq approaches delicate operations with the metaphorical finesse of a hammer which increases his chance of getting killed on the job. He regularly consumes the flesh of other species or individuals, taking every opportunity he can to either slice a body part off a corpse or a dead acquisition to store in his freezer. His appetite is voracious and can be naturally quite distressing to many people who are looking to work with him.
Known interests of the Bounty Hunter.
Cleqq takes an interest in eating and cooking the meat of other species. He is also a fan of combat sports and sparring in general, particularly the brutal game of shock boxing. In terms of collections, he likes carving out statues from wooden branches picked up during his galactic ventures. Like any yellow-blooded Trandoshan, he also is fond of a good bit of hunting every now and then, but don't ask him to do fishing. Being a blaster nut is a recent interest he’s picked up out of necessity, especially from Bim-Bom’s incessant meddling.
Major achievements on record.
- Earned 'Employee Of the Month' award as security guard at Kuat Drive Yards and was responsible for a 50% reduction in illegal tech trafficking from their Corellian Ship Reclamation Center. - Accidentally captured and successfully subduing an Sith Warrior. - Responsible for leading the destablization and elimination of the Azure Glaives, a notorious band of Outer Rim pirates, with a crew of hand-chosen bounty hunters. - Successfully assassinated the manager of Czerka Corporation in broad daylight and managed to escape away from Coruscant alive.
Major failures on record. Confidential.
- Nearly died on his first bounty detaining a jail escapee from Belsavis Prison due to overconfidence in his abilities and was forced to spent a week in a Bacta tank to recuperate from his injuries. - Disobeyed instructions numerous times to not kill or disintegrate his acquistions. Too many to count or say. - Accidentally captured and subdued an Sith Warrior by mistaking them for another acquistion through a series of unfortunate coincidences and bad luck. Blasting off and eating the Sith Warrior's arm for lunch didn't exactly help matters either. Cleqq's mistake nearly led to war between the Bounty Hunter Guild and the Sith Empire, if it wasn't for careful diplomacy. As a result, Cleqq had his license suspended for a period of one year.
ADDENDUM: This recording of a conversation on 3.8.5 ATC between Khoss Liell and Cheqq Yrsbahk in Mon Eisley was obtained from the remnants of a high-frequency audio recorder by Larsoon Kells. It is unfortunate that Second Lieutenant Kells was unable to survive alongside the vital information that he transmitted to us about the inner workings of the Bounty Hunter Guilds.
We have the Trandoshan to thank for that. Scum didn't even have the courtesy to give us an open body funeral......
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Well, well, well. If it isn't Khoss Liell, the Huntsman of Hoth. Last I heard, you were operating . I don't suppose you came back all the way to Hutt Space just for little old me.
KHOSS LIELL: Came to turn in several bail jumpers at a Republic outpost south of here. Heard you were in town and figured I would stop by to meet a fellow professional.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Sshould I be flattered, Liell?
KHOSS LIELL: Stop looking so down, Yrsbahk. I didn't come here with empty platitudes and empty hands.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Hrm. Alderaan liqueur. Blowing all your credits like this ain’t considered a wise move, Hoth Man.
KHOSS LIELL: Look, scale-skin. The way I seen it, you’ve earned it after that job you pulled down in the Core. Everyone in the Guild’s been talking about what you did on Coruscant with House Berkaat.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Costed me a good ship. I'm not gonna blow all my credits right now just to get another vehicle.
KHOSS LIELL: So, what? You're the headline in the entire parsec, Yrsbahk!
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Well, wait a few weeks and some Mando hotshot will probably be the new face in the spotlight. Besides, it's nothing to warrant celebration over.
KHOSS LIELL: Lucky day for me, then. Guess I'll enjoy this bottle all to myself....
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Fine. Beats a swig of Jawa Juice from Bim Bom any day. Cheers.
KHOSS LIELL: Cheers.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Oh, and one more thing. Call me scale-skin again and I'll hang you with your own intestines.
KHOSS LIELL: I wouldn't expect anything less from the Slaughterhouse. So, tell me, Cleqq. How exactly did you get into bounty hunting in the first place?
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: You expect a little refreshment to loosen my tongue, Liell? 'Cause you ain't getting anything out of me.
KHOSS LIELL: Fine, I'll just make it up in my head. I know you grew up on Trandosha. Your mother died after giving birth to you. Your clutch bullied you, which I assume is the origin of your stunning anger management issues. I'm guessing your father was a little hard on you when you were young, perhaps a little too strict, gave out regular beatings with a shock baton -
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: My father tried to eat me.
KHOSS LIELL: Go on.....
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: It happened after my first molt. I still have the shedding with me in my ship cabin. In our culture, its expected for the siblings of a brood to fight each other to the death until the fittest and the strongest is left remaining. Combat means everything on Trandosha. It's how we paid tribute to the Scorekeeper. It's how we got Jagganath points. Get enough and you get to go to paradise when you die. When it came on that day where I was to fight my brothers and sisters...., I was the odd one out.
KHOSS LIELL: Your father didn't take it well, I suppose.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: He didn't. He threatened to suck out my marrow and boil my eyes into a stew if I didn't kill my siblings. So, I did what any Trandoshan should have done at that moment. I killed him and ate him back. Costed me my left claw, though.
KHOSS LIELL: And your mother?
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: She didn't take my choice of meal very kindly, so, she decided to kick me out of Trandosha after telling the other clans about my ' lapse in judgement'. It was worth it, though. Some of my siblings are still kicking around to this day, although, some of them weren't grateful for what I did to Father. Heh. One of them's even an ambassador in the Republic senate for Trandosha.
KHOSS LIELL: So, what happened after all of that? You just signed up on the Bounty Hunter Guild as a fresh rookie?
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Nah. I stowed away on a merchant freighter to a Mid-Rim space-dock and ended up in one of Kuat Drive Yard's ship reclamation centers as extra muscle. It was….Corellia if I remember correctly. You'd be surprised at the amount of scavs that try and loot the place. Orders were simple: warn once, shoot twice, don’t think thrice. That's how I first met Bim Bom.
KHOSS LIELL: Our Bim Bom?
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Yeah, our Bim Bom. I caught him trying to scavenge a class 1.5 hyperdrive. Once I got him in the corner of an engine room, he begged me to spare him. My Jawa was a little rusty back then, but if I remember correctly, he said that he would pay me back a thousandfold if I let him go alive.
KHOSS LIELL: So, why'd you leave?
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Leave? I was fired. Got caught by the boss for engaging in my dietary habits. What? You used to live on a blasted frost-pit. Didn’t you get desperate sometimes?
KHOSS LIELL: The most we did was sleep in a taun-taun, not eat other people as daily meals.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Hrm. But if I had to admit, I would have left eventually.
KHOSS LIELL: Why?
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: For me, Corellia was too quiet. Too safe. It's the type of place where you went to die slowly. Sure, there was some good excitement once every now and then, but those were too far and few. You get me, Liell? Sure, there was excitement on the job but it was rare.
KHOSS LIELL: So, how'd you found out about the Bounty Hunter Guild?
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: I found out about a Guild Outpost on Nar Shaara on a Holo-Ad and got in contact with a representativ. Paperwork was a maze to get through though. Guess the Republic doesn’t just hand out bounty hunting certificates on a whim. I would have nearly gotten killed on my first contract if it wasn’t for Treak.
KHOSS LIELL: Treak?...I’ve heard about him once or twice. We’re talking about the same Ortos Treak. The HeadHunter?
CLEQQ YRSBAHKL: Yup. Taught me everything I knew. He was tough but bounty hunting’s tough. Those were the good days, the both of us working together bounty by bounty. Racking up my Score. I...I thought I could earn enough to return back to Trandosha. Then, the Great Galactic War reached the Outer Rim.
KHOSS LIELL: I heard about it. Treak died. ?
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: It was 10 years before the Treaty of Coruscant. He spoke to me about retirement plans. Wanted to make a Nysillin Farm. He had just one more contract to go through before he was out of the Guild. I offered to join up with him, just out of old time’s sake but he wasn’t having it. Next thing, I know, I’m reading on the holonet that Ortos Treak was found dead in a garbage bin on Nal Hutta. Half of his body was disintegrated.
KHOSS LIELL: Now, you're here.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: And I'm here now, alive and breathing. Curiosity satisfied for now, Hoth-Man?
KHOSS LIELL: Definitely. The Slaughterhouse acting all sentimental in front of me....The amount of credits I could get if I got a holo-vid of this....
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Hrm. You didn't happen to miss the Republic peacekeeper whose been looking at us right?
KHOSS LIELL: Yup. Oh, he's spooked now.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Didn't even know you humans could sweat that much...... And he's making a break for it.
KHOSS LIELL: Thanks for telling him that, Cleqq. Must have bugged the table whilst we were having this conversation.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Well, you know the drill. I'm going around the back.
KHOSS LIELL: Guess that means I'm front.
CLEQQ YRSBAHK: Right. Take care of that bug, will you?
KHOSS LIELL: Alright, alright. Where could it - BZZZZTTTTTTTTTTTTT
I'm expecting to do a revision of this again but this is the basic concept I have in mind for now. Thinking I'll revise a few things after feedback.
Mole
TokyoPewPew
Antlers
Aksiram
Captain Uni
JFK
AuthorialTheory
MaeB
Stryder BC
