"Hava, nageela havaaa, nageela havaaa, nageela hava, nageela hava hava!" Space Cop, Taggert, and Fuckbot all sang in the cantina lightyears from the Fhaja system.
Together, the three of them were all singing and dancing in a bar in a space station with ale-filled mugs swishing in their hands. They were joined in with their arms around each others' shoulders with their backs to the counter that served them their Corellian ales, and several other humans and aliens were singing and dancing along with them.
"Oi!" they declared before Space Cop, Taggert, Fuckbot, and all their friends took a swig of their drinks.
"Hey, hey, hey!" a frumpy-looking Sullustan said to the crowd as he stood in front of the trio that started off this song-and-dance. "Watch what you crazy smookas are doin' here! I gotta clean all this up when you're done!" The Sullustan, who was obviously a janitor based on the fact that he had a hovercart with an assortment of cleaning supplies mounted on it, indicated the spilled alcoholic contents all over the cantina floor.
But just when the janitor looked up from the mess he indicated, he was instantly knocked out when Fuckbot smashed his still-filled mug across the Sullustan's head, sending him to the floor, unconscious. The mug itself had shattered, spilling out the rest of its contents and only adding to the mess already there.
The entire cantina fell silent as Space Cop, Taggert, and the others regarded Fuckbot over what he just did.
"Bar Fight!" Fuckbot declared.
The robot quickly turned around, ripped a stool from its hinges, and smashed it into the face of a blue Twi'lek female next to him.
And just like that, chaos fell over the bar as everyone began fighting for no apparent reason among any individual patron there.
Observing the resultant anarchy from a booth far from the center of the fighting was a lone, dark-skinned male smoking a deathstick. Clutching the deathstick between his right index and middle finger, he released a puff of noxious air from his lungs and flung the deathstick over to an approaching drunk Togruta male. The deathstick struck the Togruta straight in his left eye, causing him to fall to the floor in agony, and the man who caused the alien this agony simply slid out of his booth and began making his way to the exit.
Halfway to the exit, however, the man instinctively dodged a blow from a metal chair that would have caused a compound fracture on the side of his skull, and twirled around to trip the attacker behind him with his leg. The wielder of the chair, a typically enormous Aqualish, landed on his back, but then planted a kick into the human's face that sent him sprawling backward along the cantina floor. However, the human literally rolled back with the blow and shot back up to his feet gracefully while the Aqualish roughly pushed himself back up. The human before him adopted a defensive stance in preparation for battle.
"That was my friend you just threw your deathstick at, buddy," the Aqualish said as he slowly whirled his fists, readying himself for attack. "And I'm gonna make sure the next one's gonna go up your ass."
The alien threw his left fist forward, which the human once again expertly dodged, and delivered a fist of his own straight into the Aqualish's gut, doubling him over. The human then leaped up and smacked his right kneecap against the alien's face, shooting his form back into standing position, and the man finished off his opponent with a spin-kick against the alien's chest that sent him flying back to slide across an empty table before collapsing to the cantina floor again.
"Holy shit, we got a ninja over here! A Space Ninja!" Space Cop loudly slurred in his drunken state amidst the chaos. He pointed over to the dark-skinned male who defeated the Aqualish, even though not a single soul aside from himself noticed or cared about what he was seeing; a fact punctuated when a male Devaronian behind him kicked him in the groin and sent him tumbling forward to the floor.
The mysterious man who had quickly defeated the Aqualish, meanwhile, turned back for the cantina's exit and left without anymore fuss. He continued down the corridor that led to the space station's hangar bay, and he didn't stop even when his commlink beeped at his belt.
He took the commlink out and activated it. "Yeah?" he asked.
"Badda Snasniss," the voice of Belok Rhal came from the other end, "we got a mission for you, and I think you're gonna need to assemble a team for this one."
Snasniss stopped in his tracks and regarded his commlink incredulously, as if he were looking at Rhal directly. "Since when the hell have I ever needed a team for, Rhal?"
"That's Mandalore to you, Snasniss, and I'd have your head if you weren't so damn useful to the Death Watch," Rhal intoned.
"Fine," Snasniss replied, not bothering to keep the apathy from his tone. "What's the mission, and why do I need a team for it?"
"Well, it has to do with what happened at Fhaja," Rhal said.
"What happened there?"
"The entire armada we had there never made it for the battle over at Geldadore," Rhal explained. "When we sent a task force to investigate, they could only find scant traces of the beskar that made up our facilities and ships there."
"An entire armada, and the shipyards and weapons facilities, were all wiped out like that?" Snasniss said, both impressed and concerned at the same time. "You have any idea who or what was responsible for all this?"
"We received a transmission from several of our forces, saying that a single Nubian starfighter, pre-Imperial era by the descriptions offered, had been wiping out our forces there," Rhal elaborated.
"How is that even possible?" Snasniss asked. "I doubt even Luke Skywalker or Wedge Antilles or any of their buddies combined could do this."
"Well, from what little we have, it's all we got," Rhal said. "So I need you to assemble your best team to find this Nubian starfighter at all costs and destroy it, along with its pilot. Especially its pilot."
"I'll get on it," Snasniss said before closing off the communication.
