Restless and Resourceful (Alanie)

[Blacktung]

"Such information would not be easily surrendered to you and I. Were this Imperial Space I would have the access we require, but alas the Alliance does not see the value of cooperation with the Guild. Do we elicit the aid of a slicer? Seduce an officer, with my tongue? Fighting our way in will get us nothing if we are detained or thrown off the station."

[Alanie Herleva]

As they walked, she grinned at him. "There are various ways, but a slicer might be the quickest," she nodded. Casting her gaze on those they passed and beyond, her issue was not knowing anyone on this station who could help in that endeavour, which meant they had to go about it the long way. Find someone. Normally the seedier bars or clubs in the "more interesting" part of town would have at least one, which also meant they would have to gain the trust of an informant or someone else in the know.

"Guessing you've never been here either?"

[Blacktung]

"Of course not. I hate space." He replied without thinking as his eyes were occupied taking in their surroundings. "This place feels cold and diseased, like some vermin dying in it's den. It is devoid. Detached. I cannot feel Scyva here. Excuse me sir!"

Mid rambling thought he reached out and stopped a man who was going the other way. He had a certain look to him that had caught Blacktung's eye; his clothes were a little shabby, his eyes a bit red, and he had a neck tattoo. Truly this was a man of the people.

"Hail and good..." A quick glance at the nearest porthole revealed not answers to the time of day but only inky darkness and stars. "Night? Where in this abominable space station would I go if I wished to procure the services of one or more men for various purposes. I believe they are called odd jobs, but I assure you that they are not odd. The opposite of odd, in fact. Regular jobs."

The man looked between the grinning man and the straight faced lady a few times before finally answering.

"I don't know nuffin' about all that, but if your lookin' for directions you should try Narssiska Vraska. You can find her at the Shatterstar Lounge. It's on the promenade concourse. Now fuck off."

"See, that wasn't so hard."

[Alanie Herleva]

Watching and listening, she became amused at Blacktung's approach and knew the drunk guy that the bounty hunter had just stopped probably was so out of it that he wouldn't remember any of this moments later. But, he was right, randomly asking someone in a roundabout way did get the preferred result. Being the type to think a few steps ahead, she had forgotten the basic things like this. It happened, she mused and nodded.

As the drunkard walked away, Alanie grinned, "I'm surprised he even knew what you were referring to. Funny." Now to find the lounge. As they began walking, she spotted another trio outside a local store and figured they would know where the lounge was. "Everyone on your world talk like you," she inquired, glancing to him momentarily as they approached the three darkly clad men. One of them vainly hiding a knife in his left boot, she noted.

[Blacktung]

"I have not met all the people of my world. I speak the same as any man." Her question was absurd, as if he was speaking some other language instead of galactic basic the same as her. He did not speak in the old tongue except when praying to the Gods. The significance of which would be lost on his companion.

"Look at the size of that one!" A finger was pointed at one of the three men that were gathered nearby, who towered over the others and was marked with stripes, large ears, and a tail. A Cizerack. "I would like to fight that one. When we have time, of course."

[Alanie Herleva]

Alanie chuckled at the sudden change in subject. "Ooh, shiny!" Shaking her head, the hope that Blacktung wasn't going to challenge himself at the least opportune moment did cross her mind now. His style was definitely foreign to her, but apparently he had made a name for himself in some circles, otherwise they wouldn't have hired him.

Finally reaching the trio, she slowed her pace and gained their attention. "Hey guys," she greeted, smiling. "Looking for the Shatterstar Lounge."

Smiling at her, they glanced to her male companion, one of them lowering his right hand toward his belt line. "Yeah, why don't you dump the old man and come with us." His eyes caressed her curves.

"Actually, he's not that old and we're not together," she countered.

"Even better," his grin melted as all three went for weapons...

[Blacktung]

"Stay your hands, my brothers. I would like very much to give you the glorious battle you desire, but I am afraid that we are otherwise disposed. See..."

Reaching into his fur trimmed coat he pulled from the depths not a weapon, but a leather wallet that had seen much better days. Letting one end fall open it revealed the telltale Bantha skull medallion that was the badge of the Bounty Hunters Guild; as shiny and glossy as the day it was minted. The trio deflated a bit, but then the head of the group stood up straighter, took a step forward, and brandished his makeshift knife.

"Doesn't mean nuffin'. You're a long way from Imperial Space, boot licker."

Blacktung eyeballed the knife. It was a silly thing. Obviously home made, which made sense considering this station was an Alliance Garrison and all arms were well regulated. His own were left behind on the Izilith. Speaking of which, a quick glance around did not reveal any Alliance officers to beg for assistance. They were out of the way, beneath a catwalk, in a dirty corridor that was likely used primarily by maintenance teams if he were to guess. No witnesses. Looking at Alanie he gave her a knowing smile before stepping forward without looking.

The attack was obvious. Shoulder to hip slice. Amateur. The guy had a knife, not a sword. His movement was exaggerated, making a show of raising the knife before bringing it down, and creating an opportunity for Blacktung to step forward and into his personal space. Now it was just a matter of grabbing his knife arm with both hands and bringing his knee up and clocking the assailant directly in the testicles.

"I apologize, brother. Dishonorable, I know, but it is better to suffer a bruised pride than to force a meaningless death."

The bastard was holding on tightly to his knife, forcing a grapple after it should have ended. The other two were coming now, with their own makeshift weapons.

"Oh shit."

[Alanie Herleva]

Alanie listened to her fellow hunter's warning and knew it fell on deaf ears as the three thugs had no interest - they were in their territory and apparently hadn't had their asses kicked in a long time. Enjoying that type of freedom garnered a certain pride, which she and Blacktung would exploit. As the first and her companion were engaged, she watched as the second and his shorter, thinner friend stepped toward her, thinking Alanie the weaker of the two. Spinning right as she grabbed the armed wrist of the nearest, the assassin continued around, yanking him along with her as her left boot then caught the other in the chest, knocking him backward and on to his butt. Bending low, she continued using her leverage and weight, body slamming the first to the hard permacrete, knocking his wind out, and keeping his knife.

Now she was armed. "That's what I love about you boys, always predictable."

And they weren't done yet...

[Narssiska Vraska]

"Huck. Saangarr. Torph. Stand down."

An elderly Gran had rounded the corner and, after watching the scuffle go on for several moments, decided it was finally time to speak up. At his words the three thugs stopped in their tracks. There was a brief moment of consideration as they looked back and forth from the Gran to the two bounty hunters, and back again.

"K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei will have your hides if she ever found out you had those knives. If I'm not mistaken, this would be your final offense, Huck. You know what that means. Expulsion. Where do you have left to go? Nowhere. You'll have to go back to Longwind, where your outstanding debts will be waiting for you."

Several words formed on the human's mouth, but no words came out before it snapped shut like a hunter's trap. The three untangled themselves from the Bounty Hunters, giving up the knives they already lost, and turned and left, but not before Huck dragged a finger across his throat while glaring daggers at all three in turn. Once the thugs were out of sight the Gran approached the Bounty Hunters.

"My name is Horan. Are you the two asking around for Narssiska Vraska?"

[Blacktung]

The scuffle was not going in his favor. The large Cizerack refused to give up the knife and it was taking all his strength to hold it in place with both his hands, which left the brute with a free hand with which attempt to pry himself free. Blows reigned down on Blacktung's body, but he refused to let go of the knife for even a moment. Finally a hand found his throat and began to squeeze. Still he held. As his vision began to cloud and his hearing faded, he was suddenly released.

Stumbling backwards he grasped at his throat, chocking on the sterilized oxygen. He coiled, ready to continue the fight, but the thugs were keeping their distance. He tried not to notice that the other two looked much worse for wear while his singular opponent was looking rather untouched, even if flustered. A voice drew his eyes to a third party; a three eyes gran with skin so old and leathery he could be mistaken for a socialite's handbag. All buckles and gaudy colors. He told the thugs off and they left, and then made some pointed questions.

"And what of it, noble sir?" He was having a difficult time hiding the annoyance in his voice. A good fight had been broken up before it's conclusion. He may never see it's like again in this life. The Gran looked too old to be a threat, but all the same he looked sideways at his companion to make sure she was ready for anything.

[Alanie Herleva]

Equally surprised at the interruption, Alanie first watched as the trio of thugs retreated and soon vanished beyond the far corner of the alley, allowing the two bounty hunters to now focus on the robed figure. Keeping the knife in her right hand, she watched and waited as the unfamiliar name rolled off their tongue. Not one that she was familiar with, then thought about it a moment as she glanced to Blacktung. "That name sound familiar to you?" Blue-green eyes turned back to the alien before them. "Cause I don't recognize it."

How had word gotten around that fast that they were looking for a rogue Force user, or anything more than a lounge? Now she was intrigued.

"And who's asking," she countered, keeping the knife in her hand loosely, knowing that those robes could be hiding nearly anything. Her senses piqued now, Alanie used her past training to also listen to the sounds of the city around them, hoping that this individual was alone.

[Narssiska Vraska]

All three eyes closed in tandem and the elderly Gran breathed deeply, holding and then letting the breath out in a loud sigh. He was getting far too old for this. Young people these days do not even listen to any of the words you speak. Instead they jump to conclusions, and violence. It's a wonder it took these two this long to start a fight, and even more so that they were not already in a cell.

"The Emerald Lady has requested an audience with you. If you still wish to meet with her I suggest you follow me."

Turning on his heel, hands clasped behind his back, Horan walked away leaving the two Bounty Hunters with a choice. It was not much of a choice, as the decision had already been made for them. Either they came and were expedited off the station, or the powers that be would do everything to make them leave. Jovan Station was a volatile environment, and two violent Bounty Hunters sticking their noses where they do not belong threatened to peel back the smiling facade that hid the seedier elements of this neighborhood.

[Blacktung]

"I would very much like this place to make sense again."

Blacktung continued to rub his red throat as he watched the old bag slowly walk away. Turning to look at his companion he shrugged his shoulders and hiked a thumb over his shoulder to point at their savior. They had hardly been on this station a few hours and already they had several chance encounters that felt far too manufactured to be natural. It did not take much for the tracker to see they were being tracked, set up, and likely walking into some kind of trap. However, they had no other lead.

"It would appear we have little choice but to stay the course. I fear we are walking into a trap. Aha! A knife! Izax smiles upon us still. It is a good start, but we will need more weapons. Come."

He began after the Gran, looking back over his shoulder as he did so to see if Alanie would also follow.