Tatooine
Anchorhead
The Twirling Twi'lek Gentlemen's Club
Mereel Car'id preferred not to be the object of people's attention, but most people had not seen a Mandalorian in full armor. Covered head to toe in Mandalorian steel, otherwise known as beskar he was close to invincible. That combined with the numerous weapons and other tech that he'd added, and the T-shaped visor that masked every facial figure, and most people moved out of the way. The blaster rifle strapped to his chest was just an extra touch. Grinning from behind his helmet Mereel confidently made his way to the sign for the local cantina, The Twirling Twi'lek Gentlemen's Club. Upon closer inspection, he couldn't help but frown. Haar'chak ner'vod, off all the places to meet! Like most structures of Anchorhead, the building didn't rise much higher than ground level. Inside he would most likely find stairs to a subterranean level, which would hold the bar and other multipurpose rooms. The exterior had seen better days, judging by the blood and scorch marks left by the kind of violence the town was known for. To top it off the door was guarded by the meanest Gamorrean he ever laid eyes on. Not for the first time Mereel was he relieved he had had the good sense not to show up with any kind of Imperial insignia.
The Gamorrean looked down the street and must not have liked what he saw. He punched a code into the door panel, and three thugs ran out. The first was a Wookie. He easily matched Mereel's height of 6'4", and even surpassed it. The second was a particularly dreadful looking Rodian that was missing an eye and a couple fingers. The third was a Neimodian, which he thought was unusual. They rarely did any sort of gruntwork. Each was armed with some form of vibroblade.
"Easy boys. I'm not here to cause trouble. I've got business inside," said Mereel. He slowly put his arms out to the side as far away from his rifle as possible. The Rodian stepped out in front of the others and stopped a few paces from Mereel. "We don't want any of you brutes in our club! One of your kind came in today, and shot up some patrons and then passed out drunk!" Mereel tried not to laugh. So Val'ika is inside already. He replied, "What did you do with him then?" The leader shifted his weight, and suddenly seemed uncomfortable. Each of his goons looked at each other with unease. "We couldn't move him. His kriffing armor weighed too much for us to carry."
Mereel couldn't help it any more. He bowled over laughing. "He's still there? You just left him? What, between the four of you tough guys you couldn't handle one passed out Mando?"
At this point the Gamorrean and the other two bouncers had joined with the leader and formed a semicircle in front of him. Each had a mixture of bewilderment and anger. The leader's face was one of cold fury. He held out his blade. "Get the hell out of here before I carv- " Before he could end his sentence Mereel was on them. He took two strides towards the group and threw an uppercut, catching the boss under the chin. The alien crumpled in a heap, blood spraying from where Mereel's hidden vibroblade had punctured his head. The Wookie roared and swung high with his vibrosword, but it glanced harmlessly off the heavy bes'kar armor. Mereel laughed, and pulled a second blade from a slot in his thigh's armor. He backed up a couple of yards and bowed into a near-crouch, as if anticipating a charge.
"Well, come on then. Let's play." The three looked at each other with questioning looks. The Neimodian flat out ran away, while the Wookie bared his fangs and roared. Charging, he threw his sword at Mereel in an attempt to distract him. Once again the blade bounced off the beskar'gam, but the ploy almost worked. The Wookie collided with him full speed. They scrambled on the ground, but the beast got the better of him. He raised a fist, and brought it down in what would have been a killing blow. The force of his fist meeting the helmet forced Mereel's head to move, but that was about it. He heard the bones in the Wookie's hand break, and promptly took the initiative. He held the beast's head in place with his left hand, and reached up with his right, forcing the gauntlet's vibroblade into the temple. The sudden shift in deadweight winded him. Figuring the others were moments away, Mereel tried to shove the dead Wookie off of him. Come on come on, not fast enough. Go go go! He finally managed to maneuver his way from under the corpse, stood up, and looked up in time to see the remaining thugs running back to the bar entrance.
They didn't get far.
The Neimodian hardly laid a finger on the door controls before he was blown to pieces. The Gamorrean squealed but it changed to a gurgling sound as whatever hit his comrade hit him full on. He fell to one knee and was breathing hard. Mereel heard a voice from inside the building. "Still alive you chakaar? If there's one good thing about your species, and it's definitely not your smell, it's that you can endure." Another shot left the alien in pieces.
Mereel wiped the blood off his blades on the Wookie and started walking to the doorway. His face broke out in a grin. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. A figure walked out. He wore gold armor with a red trim and red sigils. He walked out with his arms wide, as if to embrace Mereel. "Ner'vod! Su cuy'gar! Why is it that every time I ask you to meet for a quiet drink, and I end up saving your shebs?" They each removed their helmets and hitched them to their belts. There was a clack of armor plates touching as the two men embraced. They broke, but kept their hands on each other's shoulders as they took stock of each other. Valaraas was a few years older than his adopted brother, and lately it showed. Valaraas was a bounty hunter and mercenary, and he had a few scars to show for it. Long, dark brown hair surrounded a longish head which ended in a rather square-set jaw. He had a disfigured nose, from being broken multiple times. He also sported a beard that ended about an inch off of his chin.
Mereel couldn't have been more different. He had a slender build, as opposed to Valaraas' bruiser physique. He had a symmetrical face and piercing blue eyes. His hair was black, and well kept. As an officer in the Sith Empire, he had certain standards to keep to. He would be considered handsome, if it weren't for the scar that ran diagonally across his face from his forehead to his chin.
Mereel patted his shoulder and stepped back. Gesturing to the scene behind him he replied, "You were a bit late ner'vod. Brag all you want about those di'kuts. When's the last time you wrestled with a Wookie?" Valaraas' eyes settled on the furry corpse. "Kandosii Mer'ika! I guess the drinks are on me! Let's head inside. It's starting to smell out here."
They stepped around the bodies and walked into the bar. Just as Mereel had predicted there was a wide hallway that led downward into a larger room. The cantina wasn't that much different from any other. Tables were arranged around a dance floor. A band was playing on a stage in the corner. The place was packed. Somehow the combination of music and chatter made it perfect for a quiet conversation. Now Mereel knew why Valaraas chose the place. "Go find a seat Mer'ika. I've gotta verify some very interesting information that recently came my way." Mereel gave him a knowing look. "Balsaar the Terrible? Have fun."Valaraas tossed him a credit chit and winked. "Buy us a round, eh?" Then he turned, put on his helmet and disappeared into the crowd.
Valaraas had never taken to Hutts. After a long career of fighting for one Hutt or another he put them down on the long list of species who wrote off Mandalorians as just a bunch of savages who were only good for doing the dying. Balsaar the Terrible was a particularly nasty breed of criminal. He was connected to everything from slave running to spice dealing. Anyone who crossed him ended up in a ditch filled with hungry akk hounds. Valaraas once saw Balsaar throw a particularly unlucky Weequay into said pit because he didn't knock while the Hutt was having one of his…private sessions. Valaraas' eyes narrowed behind his T-shaped visor as he walked into Balsaar's chamber. It was located below the cantina. Concrete pillars ran the length of the room, and each one had a hook on which a slave was chained. The giant slug sat on a repulsor stage at the back. He lavished himself with garments and priceless items of antiquity, and thought of this chamber as his throne room, and himself a king. Not too far off, actually.
He stopped walking a few meters from the repulsor stage, lifted his arms out, and bowed. "O Great Balsaar the Terrible! Your presence strikes fear into my heart, and I shake in my boots!"
The Hutt grimaced, and waved his arm dismissively. "Tell me what you want, Car'id. The sooner you Mandalorians are out of my cantina, the better. Don't think I didn't notice you killed two of my bouncers. Your brother killed my favorite Wookie as well. My akk hounds are hungry. Get on with it!"
"Actually, you forgot the Duros upstairs, but don't worry about that. I'm here because your assistant commed me, Balsaar. Now is it a job, or are you just wasting my time?"
Balsaar looked sidelong at an old looking human in body armor, who Valaraas figured was another thug for hire. The man walked over to a table littered with papers and other assorted items. On the corner rested a gauntlet, and the guard picked it up and offered it to the Mandalorian. Valaraas took it out of his hands and looked closely. The weight of it meant it was obviously crafted from bes'kar. It was also colored a dark green, which to Mandalorians meant duty. He turned it over to look at the wrist to see if he could find any clan markings, and his heart skipped a beat. He felt his pulse quicken. The sigil for the Car'id clan was there. He nodded, turned it over a few more times, and hitched it to his belt. He stood there with his hands on his hips for a few moments, and his voice took on an icy tone. "Balsaar, you magnificent shabuir. Where did you find this? Don't give me a run-around either."
Balsaar shrugged and indicated the older man on his left. "This human brought this to me along with a few other items to pay off a debt. I can't read Mando'a, but I recognized the sigil from your helmet and figured you'd be interested. Was I correct?"
Valaraas sighed. "Yes Balsaar, but that didn't answer my question." He turned his head in the human smuggler's direction. "Where did you find it? There aren't many of us Car'ids in the galaxy these days, and even less with green armor and black sigils. So, tell me. What's your name, what system, what planet, and at what coordinates?"
If the human felt threatened by his tone he didn't show it. Under other circumstances Valaraas would have respected him, but his mind was focused on every word. "My name is Bohan Lok, sir. I was wandering through a marketplace on Bimmiel. Believe it or not someone was selling it alongside some other armor pieces and weapons. The vendor didn't claim to know the owner, and I figured it'd make a good piece for my home collection, but our gracious host decided he needed to have it. He convinced me, and here we are."
Yeah, anyone can be convincing from behind a blaster. "Alright Bohan. Give me the coordinates and you can be on your merry way."
Bohan picked a datapad out of his pack and handed it to him. "Here, take what you need."