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Thread: A Matter of Life and Death

  1. #1
    TheHolo.Net Poster Has been a member for 5 years or longer
    Oran Jsorra's Avatar
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    Reb A Matter of Life and Death

    There were times when his job sucked. Like, really sucked. The hours were lousy. He got shot at. And whenever he did anything awesome, he was very rarely appreciated; in fact, his successes seemed to be to the detriment of his standing within the unit. Maybe it was because all of the members of Dorn Force - to whom he was seconded - thought they were so badass and awesome because of all the sneaking around and shooting stuff that they did. Admittedly, those two words were apt adjectives for the newly promoted Major Glayde and his merry band; and Oran had to admit a certain degree of gratitude at the recommendation that Glayde had placed in his file following their last mission, which had wound up with him being bumped up to Sergeant. But still. Sucky job. No recognition.

    Except for right now, of course. Orders had come down from on-high for Oran and his fellow Technicians to convert one of the storage rooms into a makeshift tech-support lab. Which was great. It meant he had somewhere to work that wasn't the floor of whatever transport had been assigned to their particular mission, or on the mattress of the spare bunk in his quarters. It also meant that at times like this - when his colleagues were off enjoying beer, and women, and cool stuff like that; and when half of Dorn Force was off on special indiviual assignments that no one really knew anthing about - he could pump up the volume on the sound system he'd insisted be installed for "accoustic simulations", and rock out to some kickass music.

    Arms flailing above his head, Oran rattled his way through the epic drum solo of Run Through The Gills: one of the biggest hits from Ion Maiden's latest album. Though he couldn't see himself, Oran knew for a fact that he looked cool as hell and, if a woman happened to walk in on him at this precise moment, they'd be overcome with the desire to leap at him, rip his clothes off, and have hot steamy sex all over his imaginary drum kit.

    Surprise raced through his mind as the music suddenly died out, leaving him hanging in the midst of a heart-felt cry of: "Run through your li-ife!" A mix of panic and anticipation ran through him, at the prospect that perhaps his scatterbrain musings of being accosted by hot women weren't entirely wide of the mark. Lieutenant Tur'enne was off-base he knew, but that Captain Tallen was still around, and a couple of the girls from Aurek and Besh were pretty hot -

    Disappointment settled when his eyes came to a rest on a very non-female and very non-hot old man hovering close to the entrance of what was laughingly being described as 'The Lab'. The man was unreadable, eyes hidden behind a pair of tinted glasses that conjured a strange air of mystery. Oran frowned, not even remotely familiar with the individual who had invaded his territory and screwed with his music. "Can I help you?" he asked, trying to slip a slight edge of authority into his tone that didn't really come off as all that convincing in the end.

    A smile broke on the visitor's face. "Yes, Mister Jsorra: I believe you can."

    That in itself was creepy; had there been a note of a laugh in that reply? Whatever was going on, it was making Oran nervous as hell, and he didn't really like that particular sensation. "Listen, creepy guy; this is my lab -" A half-truth, at least; "- and you just turned off my music, so my patience is pretty damn thin. So drop the Mister Enigma crap, and tell me who the hell you are; and what the hell you want."

    There was definately a laugh that time; or perhaps a menacing chuckle. "Very well," the visitor answered, the tone in his voice doing absolutely nothing to reassure Oran, or settle his mood. "I'm Atton Kira," he revealed; "Alliance Intelligence and I have a job for you."

  2. #2
    "Karkin' farkin' hells, Bog, jus' drop it, yeah?" Didn't take a whole lot in the whole of the verse to go and make Sadie madder than a Rancor with a big ol thorn in its foot, but the large Zabrak that acted as manager and lead singer in the band sure as chaos had that magic ability. Didn't matter none that he was easily almost a meter taller than her, nope. He'd gone and crossed a line.

    "Sadie, you know how things work. I can't just let you go running off with the first guy who makes nice with you."
    "Shut your gorram mouth. I aint done nothin wrong, you already got your say in when I got back, no need to keep dredging it back, you frakkin horned bastard."
    "But you start talking about running off to find this guy and we got problems, got it?"
    "Yeah I fuckin' GET IT, Bog'el, YOU call the shots and me and Roho an Rex jus' gotta deal. We get who runs the gorram show. You keep throwin your weight around and somethin bad's gonna happen to you."

    The Zabrak went and glared down at the small human woman, he could be down right imposin' when he wanted to, even if you were about to lash out and attempt to down the man yourself. "Are you threatening me, Sadie?"
    "Psh, nah. Aint no body but somebody with a death wish will go an do that."

    Was about that time that Ronan - nice guy, bit of a junky, dyed his hair a gorram awful shade of green - an' Rex - built like a tanker freighter, but a big ol softy once you got past his 'I'm a badass' routine - well the other two humans in the band, they showed up. Kept their peace about 'em though. Rex pondered for about half an instant to speak up on Sadie's behalf but he wasn't itchin' to get the black eye that was probably due her.

    Fact was the two of them, they both sat there, tryin' to figure out which set of drum sticks or which quetarra they'd be usin' at the gig that night, leavin' Sadie all on her onsies in that argument with Bog. Frakin' cowards.

    "I'm not really sure how more clear I can be, Saidra."
    "Maybe it'll be all nice and simple-like when ya go and pull your head outta your arse."

    Bog folded his arms over his chest in a manner, Sadie went and guessed, was to make himself look even a bit meaner. Didn't work with a lick.

    "You and I, Bogsie, we gonna have a real nice chitchat bout this dren when this show is over, savy? Don't care none if you don't like what I gotta say, but I aint payin' your cut no more. Don't need your help none in gettin' any jobs and I aint givin' you half a cred if you aint owed it."

    The Zabrak looked like he was gonna take a swing, one that'd match the one he'd given and delivered to her when she'd returned from runnin' that slave job few months back. But it was Rex's awful pitiful mouthin' of the words "we gotta gig" that stayed his hand that time 'round. Good enough, did the trick as the bastard went and stormed off like some kid that just got told "No" by his mommy.

    Sadie glanced back over to Rex, big oaf was tryin' to hold back a grin like he frakin' saved the day and whatnot. "You frellin' stay outta this. Aint your place and I don't need no kriffin' hero, yeah?"

    Rex just nodded, didn't go and say much half the time so Sadie wasn't sure why he'd go and say nothin' right then and there. She went and found her Bass Vye, was the weapon of choice when it came to a show like this. Smaller places meant you had to use the heavier soundin' instrument or else you got washed out in the drums.

    Either way... whatever hell was gonna come down upon the heavy isotope band "Captain Sweeg" after the show was over, they never let a crowd down and tonight wasn't gonna go and be any different.

  3. #3
    TheHolo.Net Poster Has been a member for 5 years or longer
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    There were times when his job was awesome. Like, really awesome. Now was one of those times.

    For reasons that he couldn't quite fathom, Alliance Intelligence had brought him in on an operation to track down a notorious slicer. Their identity was almost completely unknown: the only clue was that their movements seemed to closely follow those of the heavy isotope band Captain Sweeg. Intel said they wanted a slicer to hunt a slicer and, because everyone seemed to be in love with Dorn Force lately, they were the ones lumbered with the task.

    As Oran battled his way through the crowds, his Captain Sweeg ticket clutched tightly in his fingers, he uttered a silent prayer of thanks to whichever deities or divinities had finally decided to make up for fucking him over time and time again, ever since he was about six. Whoever was responsible, they were certainly off to a good start: tickets VIP and backstage tickets to the Sweeg concert on Faerie Junction, at one of the biggest and most prolific venues in the Outer Rim. Alegedly, he'd "won" some sort of competition with the band's fan magazine. Had Oran even known their was a fan magazine, he'd probably have entered that competition a bazillion times.

    He'd probably also have a nice, glossy, two-page spread poster of a certain Sadie K'Vesh too, to adorn the wall of The Lab. Or more likely, the wall of his bunk room. Because, y'know. Private time.

    The crowd shifted forward, and Oran found himself shunted through the ticket box. As the droid scanned his code, a pair of strong arms clapped down, one on each shoulder. Their twin owners steered him towards the coast of the surging sea of fans; between to columns of amplified speakers, and down a weaving passageway of cabling and empty equipment cases; until eventually he found himself deposited in some sort of secret, behind-the-scenes lair. Oran's inner geek exploded, willing to leap around and run about the various gear and audio equipment in a nerdish frenzy. The small percentage of him not classified as "inner geek" merely stared in blank awe at what lay around.

    A sound in the distance heralded the approach of the band. Oran tensed, wiping his sweatied palms on the outside of his pants. Act cool, he reminded himself. Don't choke. Act cool. Act cool. Act -

    "Oh my god." He felt the words escape from him, almost completely out of his control. "Oh my god!"

  4. #4
    "God? The frell's that bastard gotta do with it? Or them bastards, whichever you're goin' bout havin' the fit to. Frakin' hells... Roho, they even still believe in gods and whatnot anymore? I thought it was all that Force dren?"

    The green haired, highly tattooed, quetarra player shrugged his shoulders and slowly pulled the cigarra out of his mouth. "I'd answer that but I'm thinking that if I went and did, not to say that I'm not thinking of doing so but more that I won't, you'd go and cue me into that pain in the ass solo in the encore again."

    Sadie only offered him a little bit of a shrug of her own shoulders before Rex was upon Oran, grabbin' his hands in his giant ones and shaking them both and even offered a deep sounding "Congrats." to him that made the others share exchanges that let just about anybody in the area know it was kinda off in some manner.

    Bog only offered the guy so much as a murmured echoing of Rex's statement before he pushed past, makin his way to the stage to go do whatever the frak odd-ass ritual he always insisted on before beltin' anythin' out.

    "Yeah, sorry about that... he's had a bad day." Ronan offered, using one hand to, what looked like to Sadie at least, check on his mess of a mohawk that was all perched atop his head. She let a bit of a disgusted "Tcsh..." at his comment. Yeah, right hells Bog was havin a bad day and if she was gonna have it her way it was gonna get a whole drukload worse.

    "So, boy-o, you got anything you want us to play in particular? Pretty much got a set list going..." Ronan paused to take a drag off the cigarra. It drove Sadie up the wall somethin awful, she'd gone and made the damn thing and was high and dry without one of her own, the least he could do was pass the damn thing over. "... but I think we can sneak in a fave song or two. Can't we, guys?"

    Rex nodded his head like some damn fool and Sadie shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, s'pose we can see about that. I aint playin' that damn trashy love song, though. Piece of dren like that is the reason we don't let good ol Rex here write any. Aint that the truth, ya big lug?" She elbowed the drummer who sheepishly smiled and looked away. "Yeah that's what I thought."

  5. #5
    TheHolo.Net Poster Has been a member for 5 years or longer
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    Oran felt a slight stab of disappointment. "That trashy love song" happened to be one of his favourites. Well, not favourites. It was more that the song played in his head whenever he thought about he and Sadie sharing a candle-lit dinner together, or walking hand in hand down the sands of some romantic dinner somewhere, or -

    Not that he thought about that sort of thing a lot. Much. At all. Not at all. Nope. Definitely wasn't harbouring an obsessive, stalkerish superfan crush on the sexy-as-hell bassist. Definately, definately not.

    Damn it, Oran, he hissed at himself. Focus on the mission. You're meant to act cool; set them at their ease; get them to relax around you so you can swan around and work out which one is the sweet-ass super slicer. His mind offered a modest concession. Besides, spies don't get the girl until at least the third act. You've got time.

    Rifling through his mind, he picked out the first song that sprang to mind which wasn't embarrassing, and had the convenient side effect of including a sweet bass solo. The fact that it had been listed in an interview as Sadie's favourite song to perform, and that she seldom got to play it because the drum part sounded like it had been written by a hyper-fast seven-armed psychopath with serious anger management problems, was pure coincidence. Honest.

    "Son of Xesh 51?" he asked casually, forcing himself to look at Rex rather than Sadie, less he blush and turn into a giggling fanboy puddle of goo.

    Seriously, his mind muttered with a sigh. What idiot thought sending us on a secret spy mission was a good idea?

  6. #6
    "Fakkin' Hellsyeah." Sadie had to go and elbow Rex on that one, even if she hit him in the lower stomach rather than chest or shoulder on account of how tall the fraker was. Seond time she'd done that in a short while and Sadie knew it was probably about the only shots she'd get in on the drummer for the night. "What say you, big boy? You up for that drum line tonight?"

    Rex was a good sport, put a hand to the back of his head and scratched at an itch that wasn't really there, thought about how much andris he had been on when they had all put that song together, and then nodded his head. "Anything for a fan, you know that, Sadie."

    "Shiny." Wasn't much else to say about it. No time either as one of the roadies came peerin' out from the side of the stage and motioned them it was time to get goin'.

    Ronan nodded a bunch as he was agreein' to whatever they'd all said and patted Oran once on the shoulder. "Hey enjoy the show, man. We'll talk more when it's all said and done. Hopefully by then Bog will be in better spirits too and you can get a word or few out of him before he stalks off with some groupies for the night."

    The green haired quetarra player put his cigarra back between his lips before he practically flew up the small flight of steps that lead up to the stage, Rex grinned at Oran again before following suit though far more lumberin' and slow-like. Which left Sadie standin' abouts alone with the guy for a few seconds as she shook her head at her band mates.

    "You'd think those boys never went and played a show before, you know? Get themselves all hopped up on bein' giddy over the whole damn thing. Like watchin' two kids who had their dreams come true every night an' you bein' here only makes them all the worse." Sadie let a lazy smirk come to her lips. "As much as this all might go and mean to you, you jus' bein' here means a hell of a frakton to them."

    She let a beat go, saw the roadie make another, more angry motion at her for laggin' behind and let a small laugh leave her. "So yeah, make yourself all at home back here as much as ya want. Don't let none of these guys," she gestured at the roadie, "give ya any crap. You're a guest and such, after all."

    By this time the roadie was practically about to burst with frustration and so Sadie figured it was time to actually oblige the bastard and get up on stage like she was supposed to. One last glance was given to Oran, bit of a smile, then a wink, and then she was gone for the moment.

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