The Brax. That's Us.
Nalesse, Balor, Mort and Draven.
Assassins, Smugglers and Bounty Hunters.

I've been gifted with what I call the "Perfect Person's Condition" - You might know it as Alexandria's Genesis. A genetic mutation, if you will.
Though I'm quite human, I assure you.
But with pale skin, purple eyes and dark dark hair (with none below the neck - no shaving!), it's easy to see why I wouldn't be.
My immune system is way up, NEVER get sick and immune to almost everything.
I can eat whatever the fuck I want and my weight never seems to change, I keep a banging figure.
No periods but I still have to keep on top of the old contraception. Our line of work is no place for kids. In fact, our line of work is no place for half the fucking idiots that do it. I mean you, Tik.
To top it all off, the galaxy will have to deal with me for some goddamn time; longer lifespan, baby!

I might be small but I'll make your ankles bleed.
Can I make it through a sentence without cursing? Probably fucking not.

This has been your friendly reminder of Alexandria's Genesis.
Now you know what I look like.
I'll tell you about the others later.

Enjoy!
Or don't.

Mos Eisley.

Easily regarded as one of the worst cantinas on Tatooine. No, hang on, the whole Arkanis system…. Wait…. Fuck it; it is THE worst cantina in the entire fucking galaxy. Not for the faint hearted, son.

It hasn't changed much in thirty years since Luke Skywalker first met Han Solo within its walls; it's gotten fucking worse if anything. The atmosphere alone is off-putting, as if the next brawl is set on a tight schedule to act as a purposeful distraction to give someone a swift escape (and believe me, it happens; we have a rota. No one's been killed in a while, we're due).

It's seedy; it's crowded, smoky and smelly. The music is piercing, bawdy and deafening; conversation is damn near impossible. But who comes here for fucking conversation? Well, certain conversations can only be had in this godsforsaken place.

The vast majority of the unsavories that frequent Mos Eisley come for those conversations; the trades, the deals and probably the exchange of units for…. favours of the flesh. I mean….. Not me personally but y'know….. Whatevs.

Good auld Obi Wan couldn't have described it better when he called it a "wretched hive of scum and villainy". We're not all like that… But I don't think anyone would admit to being a bad person. Right? Pfft, try again. We try to outdo each other. No honour among thieves, remember?

In every corner and at every table, some illegal trick is being turned or planned; it's not where you come for a first date or a quiet drink with friends. No, not Mos Eisley. You'll be eaten a-fucking-live but for us: it's home.

And while this place has an outstanding reputation with the criminals and the bottom dwellers of the galaxy, it has links to both sides; Republic and Empire, First Order and Resistance, Light and Dark.

If you're into all that. This is where they find each other. This is where the betting pools started. I'm not taking credit for that idea but I am.

The First Order is gone. Thank fuck. Stormtroopers would be an awful lot more intimidating if they could aim and shoot buuuuuuuut… Put it this way; there's been no improvement in the program in over thirty years, it ain't starting now.

That said, if it resurges (and these things have a habit of happening), the whispers would start here in Mos Eisley. And that's why one of the Resistance's finest walks the stony floors with feigned confidence. Not me. Jesus Christ, not me. An old friend. Looking for me.

Why? Why did she send him to this horrible place? She knew he hated it. She knew the smell made him heave. She knew the looks he got (from the wrong people) made him uneasy. He screamed Resistance.

Yet, all he had to do was say no. All he had to do was decline and she would not have pushed him. She would have placidly asked someone else. The reason he came here despite his better judgement was trust. Trust, devotion and respect. Some would even say love.

And here he was in this fleapit, looking for the ones the General had sent him to find. He knew them. They were brutal, they were cruel and more worryingly: They hadn't chosen a side. They hadn't pledged a loyalty.

Their loyalty was to the highest bidder. The worst of the worst. There were plenty of good bounty hunters out there. Why had Leia insisted on those cut-throat monsters?!

They'd turn on them in two seconds if they got a better offer and he was damn sure there were far better offers going around for this particular bounty than what the Resistance could offer.

Gratitude? To have been part of aiding the Resistance and rebuilding the Republic? While those might have appealed to a person with a decent heart, they would not appeal to the ones he was looking for.

Bounty hunters, assassins, smugglers; all rolled into one. Maybe Leia wanted to bridge a gap, to form an alliance with the worst of the worst – The Brax.

Poe spotted one by the bar; the ugly one. If there was one, the others would be close by. Brave or stupid; Poe couldn't decide which he was if he wasn't both and swallowed hard before puffing out his chest in a show of bravado.

His nerves couldn't get to him; the whole purpose of this visit would be undermined and probably destroyed if they even got a whiff of nerves.

Poe approached the bar beside where the cyclops stood and leaned his front and both elbows against it, taking in the various bottles across from him; most of which he was sure were illegal.

Poe waited, half hoping the greenish-tan creature would move away before he got the chance to speak. It didn't happen; if anything the creature was now more alert to his presence. Great, spotted first.

"Where's Less?" The question was low, casual as his gaze fixated on the bottles still. The exceptionally tall Abyssin looked Poe over with suspicion, not bothering to play along with his attempt at subtlety.

"In the back. With the Guavians." Balor answered, the words were deep and forced as if Galactic Basic was not his first language. It wasn't.

Guavians. Damn.

"Cutting a deal?" Poe's nonchalance continued, seemingly undented. Seemingly is the key word there.

"If they are, what's it to you?" Poe fell quiet. Balor was just a crony, he had no actual say in the jobs the group pursued, he was intimidating and exceptional with a blaster nonetheless. But Poe actually knew Less; maybe he'd have better luck there. So he went to find out.

I swear to fuck, there's no way he couldn't have known I was bored. I stared at the ceiling at some insect crawling across as if a creator had just unveiled itself, I was that FUCKING bored. And he shat on. And on. And fucking on. Where's my blaster? There's gotta be a better way to go….

Guavians. Those muppets who dress like they were on their way to a fucking gimp convention. Head to toe in red leather: who does that?! GIMPS. GIMPS DO. And the Guavians.

And I know they're human under there. I fucked one. Yup, peeled off that weird fucking armour (well, the bottom half) and got nasty in a bathroom stall in the Eisley.

Not Bala Tik though. He doesn't bother with the armour. He has more sense but he doesn't show it very often. I think he's a virgin but I'm not positive on that. He's one of those people I can see overexerting himself trying to please someone and getting a stitch doing it. Not sexy. No thank you.

The surviving Guavians stand silently behind Bala Tik. Of course, they let him do the talking; intimidation is their forte but it isn't working. Fuck this; I haven't had enough to drink to be dealing with this utter tit. And not even the good kind.

He's talking about a secret, restricted shipment of Whyren's Reserve, the rarest and most expensive whiskey in the galaxy; each bottle worth a small fortune. If I didn't fucking drink it first.

"The shipment is worth over 60,000 units! Split down the middle!" Tik finished, expecting a reaction but I didn't give him one. Both hands flat on the table and his bottom lip under his top row of teeth, he thought he was doing well. Poor bastard.

"So, let me get this right…." I couldn't not let him know how fucking stupid this was. Leaning slightly across the table; who needed cronies for intimidation when I can do that perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much!

"You want me to stray into Corellian territory for 30,000 units and trust you to pull your weight when you can't even get a fucking droid off Han Solo?" Reaction time, fool.

Tik swallowed. Not everyone knew about that particular failure but I did. My red wrapped conquest was one of the survivors. He had a loose tongue while mine was busy.

"What does the Corellian territory have to do with it?!" The Guavian leader demanded once he'd regained himself. I know more than you think I know. That fucking accent grated me. Or maybe it was just him, I don't know. He's a cunt, that's all I know.

I pride myself on my eyebrow arch. Like, it's pitiful how much time I spent in front of the mirror to perfect it. But it can get you information, a drink and a fuck; all at once if you do it right. Or it can completely unnerve whoever you're dealing with. I was aiming for the latter.

He got full whack of it. Why couldn't he just accept there was no way this partnership was happening? Have some pride, man.

I didn't owe Tik an explanation BUT I did want to fuck with his head.

"The Varnetts run that territory." I explained as though talking to a child. I don't like children.

"I find myself well in with 'em at the moment. Easy and overpaid jobs, I'd be fucking thick to risk it. Those rich fucks have more money than sense; if they wanna give it to me; I'm more than happy to take it. I'm hardly gonna shit where I eat, Tik."

This is my favourite part. When it FINALLY hits him that he's not getting his way. Nostrils flared and pinkened cheeks pinched in offense, he gave a furious nod while the pieces clicked into place. That's it, Tik, use your brain, love.

"So how long've you had your head in Cole Varnetts's lap then?" I took a drink to alleviate the boredom of this banal conversation. It annoyed him. I could see it in the way his temple twitched. HA.

The accusation wasn't troubling. In fact, it wasn't an accusation at all. It was…. Well, it was just that. A fact. I was indeed riding Cole Varnett like a tauntaun. Yes, he was an absolute prick but as long as he knew what to do with his, who cared? As stated above, it was very beneficial. On both sides.

"Who I suck and who I fuck is my fucking business, Tik." He didn't like that. He's so easy to piss off, it's incredible. How did he get this fucking far?! Why was I even talking to him?!

It doesn't matter. He's sorry he came to the Brax now; that's us, by the way. I'm not easy to negotiate with but by being a thorn in the side, I weed out the amateurs and the gobshites like Tik.

"There's probably not many you haven't!" He spat out of petty jealousy. Oh? Is Tik jealous? Course he is, I'm fucking stunning. He's seething, it's hilarious. He thought he was gonna get a fuck outta this job? Jog on, pal.

"And yet, Tik, I still won't fuck you." I caught movement behind the Guavians. Whatever way I looked, I recognized that magnificent little pilot trying to hide from me. No fucking way.

"And speaking of fucking... POE FUCKING DAMERON."

Poe had hoped to watch and observe for a while before approaching the notorious Nalesse. The deal she cut with the Guavians didn't interest him but what Poe did want to ensure was Less' mood. That could (and had done in the past) affect how she received proposals.

He could see her clearly; sprawled carelessly in the booth, arms crossed over her (substantial) chest and legs crossed with the dangerous stiletto heels of her boots resting on the table; pointed out so a well aimed kick could kill. The arched eyebrow (Gods, Poe knew it well) and that taunting smirk as she mercilessly whittled Bala Tik…. Yes, Less was in a good mood.

That vantage point didn't last. In true Nalesse fashion, Poe's name was roared across the cavern just off the bar and half the heads turned. The best pilot in the Resistance. He'd been seen. He couldn't hide any longer.

Swallowing lightly, Poe looked around but tried not to betray his nerves as he approached the table, skirting around the Guavians. One target: Nalesse. Talk to her, get in, get out.

"Hey fellas, how ya doin'….?" An uneasy nod and the small pull of a similar grin gave the impression he was trying to be friendly but this was hardly the place for friendly. "Less? Can I-"

I cut him off, holding up one finger without taking my eyes off Tik and he got the message. Back to the Guavians, I wasn't going to start one line of business while another was still open. That and Tik didn't need to know whatever the fuck Poe needed me for.

"I'm not interested, Tik. Fuck off." Needless to say, the scrawny little bastard didn't appreciate my bluntness. With a strength it didn't look like Tik had, he kicked back his chair and glared at Poe (as if he'd told him to fuck off) and signalled for his gimps to follow him.

Now, I didn't know it then but this was going to come back and bite me in the arse. I knew I'd pissed off Tik and the Guavians. Did it matter? At that moment, fuck no.

My tune was gonna change and you'll see why later. I really didn't think that absolute mammary gland would have the balls to do it but like I said, I'll tell you more about that later.

I waited for them to go before I let Poe sit down. Waited for those absolute shit sticks to leave the cavern completely before I let my gaze flicker back to the pilot, he knew that was the cue.

He took Tik's empty chair and fixed his jacket though it's not the one I remember. I kicked my heels down off the table, propped my chin in my hands, head tilted and elbows on the table cause I ain't no fucking lady.

"Poe Poe." I regarded him with my sweetest smile but we all know antifreeze is sweet too. "Baby. What happened? I woke up on Yavin 4; no you, no good morning finger. The fuck, Dameron?"

His face contorted with awkwardness, he clearly wasn't proud he'd gone home to visit what family he had left then spent the night in a cantina with yours truly. Wasn't the first time either.

"I got an urgent transmission, I had to head back."

"Could've woken me."

"You're not the easiest to deal with in the morning."

"C'mon Poe, I'm not easy to deal with full stop."

"A'right. Okay, you're right. I should've woken you."

"Where's BB-8?" That adorable fucking droid. He'd caused a lot of trouble in the galaxy a few weeks ago just by existing, I could get on board with that.

"Still in the ship." Poe answered as fondly as I had asked, he knew I had a soft spot for the white and orange little robot. "Droids still aren't allowed in here."

"That's a shame, isn't it? I suppose Dolkar's rules are Dolkar's rules. We don't want to be pissing off Dolkar. He's like a little fucking puppy though, BB. I love him. I just wanna cuddle him till there's nothing left but nuts and bolts."

Balor caught my attention from the archway into the bar, he wasn't very subtle when his (one) eye clicked to Poe's back. I gave him a small nod to show him Poe had found me. Very shifty, criminal stuff, you see. He went back to the bar. Drink yourself under the table, lad. Treat yo' self.

Poe didn't notice but he didn't seem as nervous which was definitely a plus. Nothing more annoying than dealing with an edgy little bunny. Poe normally wasn't; then again, when me and Poe got together, it was usually after a few drinks.

He mightn't have been nervous anymore but he was still awkward. I think he might've taken what I said about Yavin 4 to heart. More often than not, I woke up by myself. If it wasn't me making the creeping exit before daybreak.

"Guavians huh?"

"No, Tik can't hold his own. The job was shite anyway. I'm not putting my arse on the line with the Varnetts for fucking whiskey."

"They're a nasty bunch, the Varnetts."

"Mmm. Everyone has their faults. I choose to look past them."

"To their money?"

"You know me so well, Poe Poe!" I replied, chuckling lightly and it intensifying when he started to laugh too. I've always liked that sound.

"So…." I picked up my drink and gave it a distinguished swirl, it was still smoking. Not sure what the fuck it was, it was bought for me. "What brings you to this fine establishment of ill repute?"

"You."

"Aww, Poe Poe! Seriously though."

"You. I have a job for you. Well, the Resistance does."

"The Resistance. Has a Job. For me." Forgive me for being dumbfounded but I wasn't quite sure why the white knights of the galaxy wanted me (us) for….. Well, anything.

Poe was so cute when he tried to be inconspicuous, leaning forward on the table and checking his peripheral vision. I leaned in too and tried not to giggle or look too amused. I was playing with him and maybe he was so wrapped up in his little mission that he didn't realize it.

"The Resistance is looking for General Hux." I kinda stared at him for a second then it hit me he was serious. And I've never laughed so hard in my fucking life. Poor Poe, I've never seen him look more disheartened and embarrassed in all the years we'd been shagging on and off.

Poe sat back, arms folded and waited for me to stop, I wasn't quiet and I wasn't stopping anytime soon. The pilot looked around with his lips pursed (he watched my tits jiggling, I know that fucker) and his patience quickly began wearing thin.

"You done, Less?" I had to heave another few howls before I could declare myself ready to continue the rest of that utterly ridiculous conversation.

"Yeah…." It was strained and I had to clear my throat to get it out. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Go on." The others sharing the cavern with us went back to their own conversations.

"The Resistance is looking for General Hux." I bit back the laugh again; he saw it so he pushed on. "He's responsible for Starkiller, a lot of people died in the Hosnian System and he's behind it all, Less! We want to bring him to justice!"

"I'm aware."

"So….?" Poe had never been serious. He was always playful and sweet, even mid-bang. I don't know what drew me to him. But I've never seen him so serious and expectant as I did now. "Will you help us?"

"Poe Poe. Baby. Honey." I began with a light sigh. "Sweetie, if I knew where General Hux was, d'you think I'd still be in this shit hole? No, I'd have handed him over and retired to Naboo by now. No one knows where General Trigger Happy is. And that doesn't stop everyone tearing up the galaxy looking for him."

"And no one knows where Commander Bucket Head is either. If he's with Hux, I ain't tangling with a Force user." Never did before, not starting now. There were no survivors of the Jakku Massacre. That should have been enough proof. I'm cocky but I'm not fucking stupid.

"But... Maybe there were some evacuated staff from Starkiller? Stormtroopers? Someone who might know where he is?" He's grasping at straws now but we've already closed that avenue.

"There was plenty of evacuated staff. They don't know where he is. We've tried. No one's talking." Poe's adorable face kinda twisted as the cogs clicked together in his head. He knew what happened.

"Tell me you didn't, Less."

"Of course we did. We're not all good people like you, Poe. Look around, remember where you are." I had to be blunt. I'd give the First Order this though; they torture trained their staff really fucking well. Unfortunately for them, we're better trained. And we know when someone's lying. Takes one to know one, right?

"What did you do?!"

"Oh Poe Poe; if I told you, you'd have nightmares." Water boarding, bamboo to jack the fingernails, cigarra burns to the eyelids, tooth extraction, kneecaping, castration, hamstringing... I could go on, we get creative. I re-iterate; we're not good people.

They're quite unassuming, some of them. We found a Lieutenant; a small, dark haired fella with big, rosy cheeks, looked like he wouldn't hurt a fly. Told me his name was Left Tin Hat Dolphin Mikado. At least that's what I think he said, his mouth was full of blood at the time.

Said Lieutenant (his uniform gave him away) in fact, kept saying "All Power to the First Order" without much conviction (after we managed to stem the blood) whenever he was asked a question. What kinda shitty rhetoric is that? He pissed me off so much with it that I removed the one muscle that meant he couldn't say it anymore.

The cutie across from me just flicked his head, I think he was trying to shake it but it was so fast that it just looked like something was trying to burrow it out of his neck. I think he was getting images and he was trying to get rid of them.

Poor honey, he seemed to manage it and get himself back on track.

"So, that's a no?" Poe surmised, running a hand through those captivatingly dark waves and now he just looked helpless and dejected.

"Why does the Resistance want us?" I couldn't not ask that burning question. And I will admit, I was sceptical. How could I not be? The Resistance, the do-gooders, the Team Free Will that destroyed Starkiller a bare few weeks ago without the help of the Republic and they wanted us?

"You're the best there is, General Organa wants the best." He told me with a light shrug and I believed him but I couldn't see he didn't know.

"Let's be fair here, Poe." I began bluntly, the arched eyebrow rolling into play again. "You wouldn't be here if that other ignorant fuck didn't get himself impaled on Starkiller, would you? And by the way; you see Kylo Ren, you tell him I owe him a blowjob for taking care of that shit rag."

He knew exactly who I was talking about and it seemed he didn't like it. Then again, how the fuck would I know what goes on on a Resistance base? But if the Eisley was divided on anything, it was the opinion of Han fucking Solo.

Some thought he was a hero going way back when and others (me included) knew him as a swindler, untrustworthy. No honour among thieves, true. BUT it's common fucking curtesy to pay back a debt. Just saying. I learned that lesson a long time ago and thankfully, Han Solo hadn't been involved.

"Why you gotta be so cruel, Less?" Poe tutted, seemingly restraining himself from saying something he might regret. You have to be careful what you say in Mos Eisley after all. Fights have been started over less.

"Gimme an hour and I'll show you how cruel I can be." I offered slyly with an inviting smirk and lashes lowered. That was usually the bait and he usually took it but….

"Sorry, Less but I'm not on the menu tonight." Well that was a turn up for the books. Or should I say a turn down? Either way: Wow. First time we've sat across from each other and not done anything but talked…..

"Oh… Okay…?" When you're me and you're used to getting your own way, these things sting a little but I managed to wiggle it out as surprise. Which it was but don't get me wrong: Ouch.

"Yeah, I kinda met someone."

"Oh? Well…. She's a lucky girl."

"Uhh… He, actually…."

"OH?!" It was his turn to kink the eyebrow. He just didn't…. Although maybe…. Shit, my gaydar's broken. "Sorry, I just didn't think that you…."

"Yeah, I guess. He's nice, you'd terrify him." Aww, that little smile! He was smitten! My Poe Poe was in love! That kinda made it worth it. It was nice to see him genuinely happy. He was always carefree and easy going but was that really the same as actual happiness?

"I can imagine. Plenty of lube, Poe."

"Thanks for the tip. That's a no on the General?"

"I'm sorry; Poe, bud, but I can't help you. There isn't even a sniff of the fucker but if we get one, I'll let you know. Just remember though, we don't work for free. "

"I'll keep that in mind."

Poe got up and shot me the usual "Behave yourself" wink. As always, it was acknowledged but never obeyed. Fond and all as I was of the pilot, I wasn't going looking for the figurehead of the First Order unless I was guaranteed of a reward and even if I was, I wouldn't know where to start.

Dameron or Poe "Damn, son" as I'd christened him the first time we met, left the Eisley without incident and narrowly missed a well-timed brawl. I was glad he avoided it, that lovely face didn't need re-arranging.

I could mull it over if I wanted but there was no point. It wasn't like it was going to just drop into my lap. I took another sip of the drink that (to my surprise) wasn't drugged and sighed as I reached in to relieve the beeping in my pocket.

This was the com that was going to change everything.