OOC:

Ok Vipes - like I said in the topic: nothing fancy just a chance for some CD. We're on leave, place yourself in the bar with the other pilots. Have a chat, take a walk, pick a fight - all of this is considered non-canon.

Have fun

Cali'reharn was glad to be in such a mind-numbing experience as was afforded to her by the enforced regular leave Viper squadron was enduring. Under normal circumstances, her mind indeed might have been numbed but since nothing was never straight forward in Viper such numbing processes where welcome with open arms.

Back in the Vectra system, the squadron was able to have free run of the Vast Empire's finest on offer. Hit the military funded spas, visit friends and family, if indeed any of the pilots had such things outside the family of the Navy. Spend up all their ill-earned credits at the bar or lose it in equally ill-fated game of Sabacc.

Cali, however, was unable to take up any of those options at present as she was elbow deep in the unnecessary but necessary, at least to those upstairs, filing work. Strewn over her desk,  datapads lay claim to all and any free space. She let out a every sigh as the time failed to bring the red tape to any foreseeable end.  At least she had an office now, made a change from the make shift ammo crates hastily upturned that often had to pass for command centres when Viper was away on duty.

Just as she was convinced she had managed to stack a perfectly symmetrical pile of datapads in the shape of ancient Twi'lek shrine she no longer remembered the name to the comlink buzzed. With a reluctant finger she pressed the receive button.

"Is this Cali'reharn of Viper squadron, I'm speaking to?" The voice was hesitant.

"Yes this is she, what is it?" She tried to sound important, not a skill she had mastered.

"Well as XO of the squadron I must inform you that you should proceed to the cantina called Unlucky Seven." The voice betrayed panic.

"Why would I want to go to that dive?" She was cautious now.

"We have reports from patrons of that establishment that a member of Viper, erm Phini-oiius..."

"Phineus, yes?" She interrupted, there was now a sense of dread in her words.

"That's him. Well, I'd make double-time ma'am. He's causing some kind of stir. Unconfirmed reports of a tussle and thermal detonators." The disembodied voice remarked as such events where a mere matter of fact.

"How can they be unconfirmed if your reporting them to me?" Cali asked with exasperation.

"Erm..." Silence.

"Nevermind. I'm on my way..." She raise to her feet in a single motion.

As she went to exit the room, she looked back and grabbed her blaster pistol. Better safe than sorry.

Jeez. This thing is tight. Hunter thought as he tugged on the collar of his Shadowsuit, his preferred choice of clothing when he wasn’t wearing his flight suit. Hunter loved every aspect of it, except for the skin tight part of it. Shaking his head, he continued walking. Despite it being a full body suit, Hunter had decided to wear pants also, as the suit didn’t come with pockets. Since he was on leave, Hunter had decided to spend his time at a nearby bar, aptly named the “Unlucky Seven”. It was a place he often frequented, though he didn’t drink alcohol. Most of the time, he could be found there raking in a great many credits playing cards with the drunk patrons. To Hunter, it was easy pickings and he couldn’t resist. It was a bright night and he had decided to walk, needing a bit of exercise after logging so many hours in his TIE.

Suddenly, a fat drop of water landed on the tip of Hunter’s nose, exploding in a shower of tiny droplets. Scowling, Hunter wiped his face off, giving up after a few moments as rain started to fall with increasing frequency. Shrugging, he just decided to ignore it. Besides, the only thing getting wet is my head and hands. The rest of my body is sealed by the Shadowsuit. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he broke into a jog as he managed to spot the bar he was looking for. Ducking into it, he was relieved to get out of the rain, despite him not really being bothered by it. Shaking his head violently, he sprayed water in all directions, drawing some curses from nearby patrons. Grinning mischievously, he went and sat down at the bar, giving the bartender a nod. Because he was a regular here, the bartender knew exactly what he wanted. Though about 99% of the beverages were alcoholic, Hunter always got that 1%, which normally was a muja juice.

“Can I get a Corellian Ale?” a voice to Hunter’s left said.

Frowning, Hunter shot a glance at the being from which the voice had originated. It had come from a man with longish jet black hair. The man noticed Hunter’s gaze and turned his head slightly, looking at Hunter curiously, and exposed the right side of face which was previously under the shadow of his hair. Hunter saw that the man had a small horizontal scar underneath his right eye. The man quirked and an eyebrow at Hunter, mutely asking him just what he was staring at.

“Sorry. I feel like I know you from somewhere.” Hunter said.

The man stared at Hunter a bit longer before answering, “Likewise.”

Hunter extended a hand, “Hunter Morrell.”

The man pursed his lips before taking the offered hand, “Phineus Gage. Nice to meet you.”

OOC:

WC: 474

The smoke had grown so thick that with each shallow breath Cali came closer and closer to ejecting the contents of her rather inadequate lunch she had eaten some several hours earlier prior to this little sojourn.  This bar certainly was unlucky she mused as she crouched hunch back behind what remained of a Sabacc table.  Several meters in front of her lying on his front covered in soot and the contents of half the bar, Stardreamer, the latest addition to the ranks, was trying his best to lay down some suppressive cover.

Beyond their position emitting equal parts blaster fire and obscenities was the holed up, presumed assailant, Phineus Gage. Cali's eyes flickered as her table shook followed quickly by the sound of shattering glass. A strong, familiar scent pervaded her nostrils, Corellian ale. The defending blaster fire had seemingly stopped, there was another impacting shatter. The smell this time was perfumed, Cali did not recognize the liquor but it was lost under the more repugnant odour of the ale.  Was he attacking them with alcohol, she wondered in disbelief?

"Sicario! Sicario! Can you hear me?" Her voice rebounded off the blaster charred interior of the bar. There was silence from the opposing end. "This is your squadron exec speaking." There was what sounded like a snort of derision, followed by muttering and loud animal like cackle.

A cry of pain came from Stardreamer's cover. Cali squinted through the settling debris to where he was positioned. He lay clutching a hand to the face with blood persistently draining over his contorted face of agony.

"That was vintage ale!" Through clenched teeth he yelled at Sicario's direction.

Cali drew the sight of her pistol below her right eye. It was still too smoky in the room to be able to see or get a lock on her fellow wing man. Sicario had been through a lot lately. They all had, but even from their brief time together Cali sensed that behind the playful facade of his there lay a deeply sensitive man. Perhaps recent events had blistered wide the cracks in his mask, rendering them all too visible. She sighed and lowered the pistol beside her thigh. How was she expected to take a crack-shot at her fellow pilot, the thought was absurd. Absurdity seemed to have attached itself to the squadron. If a scenario or situation could take a swerve in the direction of the absurd, when Viper was concerned it was a guarantee.

"Listen to her pilot!" An assured tone rang across the strewn chaos. Cali did not recognize the voice.

"Ge' away you," Through the slurred diction Cali instantly recognized Sicario's voice. "i wiz 'avin' a swell evenin' befoar you showed hup."

"Now, now Gage. We where having a swell time before that Trandosha showed up." The appeal was meet with a fresh onslaught of bottles.

"Sum 'unter." Grumbled Sicario.

Cali turned her head to the direction of the new voice. To the left of her, a few feet away she was meet with the closed lidded upturned grin of rather bruised Trandosha who lay flat on its back listless to all the chaos breaking out around it. At the feet of this unfortunate patron of bar, she could discern a tall figure in what appeared to be a full body suit. A curious fashion to be sporting if out drinking, she thought.  A goatee laden face turned to meet her gaze with an open palm greeting.

"Warrant Officer Hunter Morrell." He gestured towards Sicario with an apologetic look. "Despite his ramblings, I think I must take some small credit for his current state. But rest assured ma'am I'll make up for it."

As her table was meet with the repetitive thud of newly charged blaster fire Cali managed a meager smile; "Be my guest officer."

Just what exactly had transpired, she thought as she sensed the events where once again taking a direction yet again into the realms of the absurd.

Tessa returned from her first dogfight full of adrenaline. All around her, pilots were slapping each other on the back and guffawing. More than once she heard mention of a cantina called Unlucky Seven.  But no one was congratulating her or asking her to go have a drink. In fact, she felt completely unnoticed. That sort of thing didn't happen to Tessa Fenn very often.

Determined to fit in, she headed to her quarters to change and meet up with the others.  Tessa didn't frequent cantinas very often.  They tended to be full of the very people she tried to avoid; but pilots loved their booze and she was going to have to get use to it.  After a refreshing shower she chose her favorite low rise silk skirt and headed out.

It was dark and she had no idea where she was, but she wasn't afraid. In fact, she pitied the person that thought they were coming upon a helpless victim only to find a well trained machine and expert in Echani Art. 


She was within sight of the cantina when a steady downpour began. She arrived at the door with her clothes plastered to her body and her hair drenched.  Well this will make a good impression.But she needed not worry about that because when she went through the door it was total bedlam. She didn't know many names, but she recognized a lot of the faces. It was a little difficult to tell who had started what at this point as it had descended into the stereotypical all out cantina brawl.

She stood at the door wondering whether to go in or turn around and leave.  I'd hate to miss a good fight.  Tessa scanned the room and spotted a man who had pinned down a pilot she recognized from the station. The pilot was getting pummeled.  Tessa walked over and kicked the man in the face sending him flying off the pilot, who laid in a semi-conscious state.

The man was dazed but recovered rather quickly. He snarled at her, 'little girls don't belong in places like this and if you want to play with the big boys it's going to take more than a high heel to the chin to do it.'

Tessa gave him a nice sweet smile. "Fine. Have it your way."
To see someone practice the Echani Art is truly a sight to behold. Tessa virtually floated into the air spinning and landed a kick to the back of the mans skull.  That was all it took. He managed to utter a groan as he fell to the floor. He was out cold.

Tessa immediately turned her attention to the pilot on the floor. Nothing seemed broken, but he needed a medic.  And we need to get out of here before the MP's start combing the place.....

Thel saw a few people looking at him with mild bemusement, he was used to this by now, but the strange this was, they were doing so sideways. He was also wondering why he had lost his vision for his left eye, until he realized something was pressing against it.

Suddenly, his equilibrium returned with a rush. Thel realized that his head was lying on the table, and he was looking to his right. He raised his head groggily, remembering that he had fallen asleep.
He blinked, wondering how many drinks he had. He noticed one glass being cradled by his right hand, and his left hand gripping the edge of the table.

I guess I had just one, before I passed out on the table. He mused to himself. Of course the bartender might have cleaned up the glasses, but usually people leave Mon Cals alone when they sleep.

Thel let go of both the things in his hands, and sat up straight.
That's when he noticed the smoke, and the blaster fire, and the yelling. The cacophony of sounds rushing suddenly at him made him reflexively stand up, but he realized couldn't when his Carbine strapped to his leg hit the table. He shuffled out of the booth.

Thel stood up, crouched in a basic military fighting stance, and noticed a large amount of light seeping from the exact opposite end of the bar.
Hm, must be the door. He thought. His last thought before entering the fray was; Heh, gunfighter seat.


A man came stumbling towards Thel, like he had just been hit over the head with a bottle of ale. Thel almost drew his gun and dropped him right there, but realized he was probably just another drunk, confused patron. He thought he heard Hunter's voice, and as he cocked his head to hear better the man punched him. The patron caught up in the moment, and perception muddied, had no idea what to do when coming across a large alien humanoid. Even so, Thel wasn't quite in the mood for forgiveness.

Thel stumbled backwards a few steps, and made as if to fall against the booth. Instead he crouched in the shadow it provided. He was a fairly large Mon Cal, and so, had the advantage over the slightly smaller patron. He had learned physics the hard way, so instead of fist fighting the patron, which he was not at all proficient at, he instead waited until the man looked around confused, and jumped out of the shadow at him.

Thel couldn't tell whether or not he man was surprised, because after launching his considerable bulk into the man, he just continued towards the most sure about, the door, and somewhere out there, was Hunter.

He started of in a trot towards the sound of gunfire.

OOC:

471 Words. Might as well insert myself here... plus, we need some more Nazgul representation.