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Thread: Don't Call Me Baby, Baby

  1. #1

    Don't Call Me Baby, Baby

    ooc: looking for someone to embroil Arya in mystery and keep her on her toes. Punctuation, full sentances and coherent dialogue a must. Weenies need not apply. /ic:

    Arya eyed the shot on the table as the big man across from her picked it up in his thick fingers. He chuckled, alchohol glazing his eyes, and put it to his lips in the momentary hush of the bar. The bright green liqour slipped down his throat in a rush, and the crowd erupted in cheers, bets being placed again and credits changing hands.

    The smuggler looked at her little row of glasses, eight empty shots to his nine. She allowed the trace of a smile to draw the corners of her lips upwards as she picked up her ninth shot of Green Sin, the name the bartender had given his homebrewed moonshine. Tasted worse than sin, but sparkled in a glass like nothing she'd ever seen.

    She hesitated, picking up the shot glass, and someone catcalled from the back of the crowd. Then she threw it back, slamming the empty glass upside down on the table next to the others. Arya brushed her short black hair out of her blue eyes, and winked at her opponent, Grogin something. He leered drunkenly through the cacophany of noise, and nearly spilled his tenth shot as he grabbed for it. He recovered, finishing off the shot and setting the empty shot glass next to the others.

    "C'mon place your bets! I've got three hundred says she pukes after this one."

    "I'll see that!"

    Calls and jeers filled the small bar in the underbelly of Coruscant, people jostling for position as Arya downed her shot. She tossed the glass into the air, and snatched it up with her left hand before setting it on the table. "Place yer bets, boyss.." There was a little bit of a slur to her tongue. "I've got double or nothin' on my wager that I beat your hometown favorite." Arya indicated the neat stack of chits that were on her side of the table. The crowd erupted in a fresh round of wagering, and Grogin was feeling the heat.

    Sweat was erupting from his brow and pouring down his face as he reached for the eleventh shot. Reached... and kept on going as he plopped face down on the table, scattering empties all over the floor. His buddies shook him, but Grogin was out. Arya simply smiled, putting her chits back into the inside jacket pocket of her coat.

    "Not so fast, baby - you have to do the next shot first." The man who'd grabbed her hand had the look of someone who'd bet against her.

    "Fair's fair." Arya raised an eyebrow at the hand on her wrist, and he let go. "All right boys - for the win." She stood up, kicking her chair back and made a show of blowing out a breath of air. Then she licked her lips and threw back two shots, one right after the other. She tossed the empty shot glasses up over the table, and swiped one out of the air before it landed. The second one fell to the ground where it cracked. "Looks like I won."

    There is a curse.
    They say: May you live in interesting times.


  2. #2
    Mortie
    Guest
    In the din of the angry losers the chirrupy little giggle went unnoticed.

    On the floor the cracked shotglass that Arya had discarded rolled forward slightly, as if on an incline, and stopped closer to the womans booted foot. An affectionate coo drifted upwards before the glass suddenly was sent tumbling from the inconsiderate kick of a husky barfly, who slammed down a handful of credits before stalking away mumbling under his breath.

    With an indignant whistle the shotglass flew into the air by an unseen force and smacked the man in the back of the head. "Hey!" he growled, putting a meaty paw to the nape of his neck. Narrowing his eyes he scanned the crowd and finally rested his gaze on Arya. The damaged glass now lay on the wooden plank flooring at her feet. It giggled.

    Pointing an accusing index finger at the smuggler the man barked, "What kind of black magic, low-down tricks are you playing here witch?"

  3. #3
    Arya burped, and stared along her nose to the pointing finger. "What?"

    "You heard me." The man stood up to his full height and glared down at her. "Jedi."

    The smuggler's nostrils flared, but she didn't move from where she was standing, scooping credits into a bag with her hands. "You got the wrong person. I suggest you sit down before you get yourself hurt."

  4. #4
    Mortie
    Guest
    The mans eyes burned brightly as he took a menacing step forward. Several of his ghoulish compadres followed suit, crossing their burly arms over their chests behind him. Never letting his gaze move from Arya, the brute's voice raised a decibal. "Who here saw her throw that shotglass at me?"

    No one stirred.

    "And who here saw it hit my head?"

    This time a few hands raised hesitantly in the bar, accompanied by low murmurs of agreement.

    "And who else here would want to throw something at me?"

    A lone limb climbed up hesitantly, only to shrink back like a withered plant as the man glared at it's owner. A glimmer of triumph flashed over his flat grey gaze. "Only Jedi can throw things without touchin' them... and only Jedi can call things back to them without movin'." He stared pointedly at the glass on the floor, which seemed to quiver for a split second. The man narrowed his eyes into puffy slits and took another step forward.

    "I don't like Jedi. And I don't like uppity women--you're both."

  5. #5
    She quickly and securely fastened the bag of winnings into an inside pocket of her jacket, standing nonchalantly while the larger man advanced on her. "Like I said, you should sit down."

    The man reached for her collar with his meaty hands, moving surprisingly quick for such a big human. Arya's hand shot forward, grabbing her assailant's hand before he could reach her. A few deft movements later and she had him kneeling on the floor with his arm bent out to the side, sweating with the pain of the position. The smuggler held him in place with only one hand.

    "Had enough?" Her foot nudged the broken shot glass, and she frowned at it. It couldn't be making aface at her - could it? Must have been a reflection of Meathead here.

  6. #6
    Mortie
    Guest
    An angry howl rose from the floor at the taunt, but Arya's captive did not move for fear of getting only a broken bone for his trouble. Everyone else in the bar stared silently at the women; a collective step back was taken.

    Meanwhile, the little glass on the floor began to tremble and a series of loving sighs and intoxicated giggles floated up. The shaking intensified until nothing but a blur and a clinkety-clink as it hit the floor testified to the little shot's position. Murmers rose among the patrons, a few dirty glares were shot in the smugglers direction, and the lunk on the floor strained to see what everyone else was staring at.

    Then, as if it could no longer be contained, the glass dissapeared in a fit of pink bubbles which, twisting like a tornado from the heavens above, shot into Arya's face! The smuggler was enveloped in a sea of rose as the bubbles charged around her. Finally, with a little pop! she could see clearly once more.

    Snuggled against her neck and purring affectionately was a small, rotund, pink ball with eyes. It gazed up at Arya with admiration and then with new gusto settled it's cool jelly-like body into the groove of her shoulder.

  7. #7
    The shotglass turned into something pink and burbl which proceeded to float up to her face level. Arya tried to back away from it, but to no avail as the pink sphere nestled against her neck on her shoulder.

    Her first reflex action was to knock whatever it was off of her, and sent it flying. Unfortunately that meant that she'd let go of Meathead's arm. Arya realized her mistake as he punched her hard in her midsection. She doubled over and gasped for air, vaguely aware that the sound level in the bar had gone up by a few decibels. Meathead grabbed her by the hair and yanked her upright. His breath... was terrible.

    Arya's sensitive nose crinkled even as tears pooled in the corners of her eyes from the stomach punch. "You really... should look. Into... breathmints!"

    Meathead kept a painful grip on her black hair with on hand, choosing to squeeze her face painfully with the other. "Gonna take you to the garrison, Jedi. But first I'm goin' to have some fun."

  8. #8
    Bandage
    Guest
    As the thug tightened his grip on the woman, a beer bottle sailed across the room, landing on its mark; the bottle erupted with an explosion of glass and leftover beer on the side of Meathead's head. In pain, he keeled forward, holding the side of his head. At the moment, he was not worried about the thrower, only at the pulsating pain in the side of his head. But his friend, on the other hand, was already looking in the direction of the origin of the flying bottle.

    He saw a man in dark clothing, primarily a tattered, black trenchcoat, a button-up Oxford shirt, black slacks, black boots, and a black, wide-brimmed hat. But it wasn't the clothing that caught the most attention. It was the bandages that wrapped around the man. The form was tall and firm, clearly masculine, but wrapped in yellowing bandages. The skin that was visible was quite blackened and scarred, as if severely burned. It was a mere miracle that this being could even be alive, let alone be able to walk around with no trouble. As the thug ran forward, Bandage was ready. Producing another full beer bottle in his left hand, he swung it, connecting solidly with the man's head. As he pitched backwards, Bandage twisted the bottle cap, opening the beer. Instead of taking a swig, he douses the man, kicking him to the ground. Being in a smoking section of the bar, Bandage grabs a lighter sitting on a nearby table, lighting the alcohol-saturated clothing on fire. Bandage then takes this time to speak.

    "You will be doing nothing of the sort."

  9. #9
    Mortie
    Guest
    "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

    The little rose blob was sent sailing across the bar, squealing indignantly the whole way, until it connected with a small splat on the opposite wall. It slid to the floor way it lay unnoticed for a few moments, and then in woozy wide circles floated up again. Large bluish eyes rattled dizzily, and the little orb drunkenly floated about trying to get his bearings again.

    Which happened rather quickly when he saw the big galoot attacking Arya. Puffing out what would have been it's chest (if it had had any recognizable body parts, that is) the creature zipped forward full speed ahead, incensed with fury...

    Only to narrowly miss being throttled by a flying beer bottle. A surprised screech and a sharp climb upwards saved the little thing, and the bottle hit it's intended target. Seeing that the thug was distracted, the miffed ball of pink descended upon Arya in a cloud of reproach.

    The smuggler suddenly found herself on the recieving end of a very long, very loud, and very squeaky dressing down. The blob had now become a condemning finger that was pointing at her and darting back and forth--just in case she decided to bat it away again. Finally, after a good five minutes of berating, the finger morphed back into it's rotund little blorb, who "hmped" and turned away from the woman, tucking into itself (giving the impression of a pair of crossed arms).

    Then it saw Meathead on fire and the strange... being standing there. With a frightened whistle and a rush of wind Mortie--for that was what the pink alien had dubbed himself--darted behind Arya and peeked cautiously around her neck at the vigilante. Heroism, for the moment, was forgotten.

  10. #10
    Well you know what they say about the better part of valour... Arya had no idea why a stranger was getting into the middle of the situation, but welcomed the distraction. The bar went from hostile to a warzone when their favorite son went up in flames, and Arya didn't have time to get irriated at the pink thing that was following her, squeaking something that might have been words.

    The smuggler dove under the nearest table to avoid the mad rush from behind her to put out Meathead and attack the bandaged guy. Someone noticed her under the table trying to crawl nearer to the exit, and grabbed her ankle. Arya flipped to her back and kicked her other foot out, connecting solidly with her assailant's nose. It broke with a spray of blood, but other hands were already pulling her out from her hiding spot.

    Set up on her feet once more, Arya headbutted a second man, and grabbed the collar of a third being that was holding her shoulder. She pulled his head down to eye level and bit his ear. Hard. He let go of her in a hurry, only to receive her boot in his groin. Broken Nose tackled her at the knees, and she fell sideways on top of One Ear who was curled up on the floor. A hard shot to the jaw stunned her for a moment, and she disappeared under a pile of mean, drunk idiots.

  11. #11
    Bandage
    Guest
    Some rushed to put out the man on fire. Others went for Bandage.

    Figures.... The thought shot across Bandage's mind before a fist came crashing against the side of his head. Pain exploded in his mind. Shaking off the first strike, Bandage stumbled backwards, kicking outward as he did so. He struck his assailant in the groin, and used it to launch himself into the crowd. He caught another assailant in his launch backwards, knocking him to the ground. Continuing to travel backwards, Bandage rolled backwards, bringing his feet down hard on the second man's chest. In a crouched position about seven feet from his previous position, Bandage jumped, kicking the jaw of a third assailant, and with the continued momentum, the left ear of a fourth. Blood flowed from both men, but the fourth did not fall. As the fourth crouched in pain, Bandage landed, planting a solid right boot kick in the center of the fourth assailant's chest. He hits the ground, and the first wave is down. But behind these, a second wave saunters forward, armed with bottles, pool sticks, legs of tables and chairs, basically whatever was on-hand. Bandage almost instinctively went for his saber, but that would cause panic, or worse still, reveal his identity as a Jedi. Better to be anonymous.

    Reaching outward with his left hand, he snatches a pool stick, immediately bringing it to bear. Swinging forward, Bandage trips one man, but is hit in the ribs by a second. Kicking the knees of the second, Bandage spins the stick violently, catching all in the immediate vicinity. Amazingly, they all stagger back, and Bandage leaps forward, bringing the pool stick downward in an over-the-head chop. It splinters over the man's head, knocking him unconscious. This leaves an opening, and Bandage sprints through, going straight for the pile of drunken idiots. Yanking two off, Bandage finds the woman. Grabbing her wrist, he pulls her upward, practically dragging her as he did so.

    "I think it's time we called it a night...And to think, I didn't even get a decent drink...."

  12. #12
    Mortie
    Guest
    Mortie had lain painfully under the sweaty bulk of a drunk pilot, one end of his little body bulging as the other was squashed. Finally the strange... man? thing? managed to pull the pile apart, and Mortie found himself free. The blob wasted no time in shooting up and away from the dogpile, where he quickly gulped in large breaths--giving the distinct impression of a balloon being puffed and de-puffed.

    Everything was fine until the man-thing pulled Arya along with him. Eyes widening (if that was possible) Mortie darted after the pair, whizzing beneath the smugglers feet and inbetween her and Bandage. With an irritated huff the little thing began to bubble again, and suddenly Bandage found his hand separated from Arya's wrist by a tiny crescent-shaped shield.

    It was pink.

  13. #13
    Bandage
    Guest
    Bandage suddenly felt unencumbered by the extra weight that was the young woman. Looking down at his hand, he saw a strange, crescent-shaped disk. It was a strange and gelatinous pink. Bewildered, Bandage spoke.

    "What the hell?"

  14. #14
    Battered a bit, Arya was liberated from the crush of humanity by the bandaged creature who'd disrupted things earlier. Blood from her nose was running down her face, and the thing holding onto her arm was gripping so tight that she was bruising.

    Furious, she tried to yank her hand away from her unwelcome rescuer, and found that there was no resistance. She tumbled backwards onto her rear as the bandaged man found himself holding onto the pink bubble-thing that had started the whole mess. The Lupine rolled to the side to avoid a chair that smashed onto the ground next to her, and took advantage of her position on the ground to kick the legs out from underneath the guy who'd been pulling her.

    As he went down she came up, pulling on his body to right herself even as he sprawled on the ground.

  15. #15
    Mortie
    Guest
    Bandage was saved from a decidedly fierce ninja attack as Mortie's attention was affectively diverted back to Arya. As the smuggler was sucked back into the fray he'd just rescued her from the little alien had to muster up all his self-control (which, admitedly, wasn't much) not to dive after her. He watched with worried eyes as the woman neatly maneuvered her way back up, leaving a smashed up chair and Bandage on the floor in a heap.

    "Croooo!"

    Apparently the diminutive blob was impressed. He flashed a pink thumbs-up accompanied by a brief rushing sound that resembled applause, before nervously approaching Arya again.

  16. #16
    Bandage
    Guest
    Bandage fell to the floor, still bewildered. He was trying to give her a hand, help her out, and he gets kicked and pulled to the floor for his trouble? And then there was the strange pink blob.....

    Getting up, and shaking the dizziness from his head, Bandage turned and walked away. If she didn't need his help, then fine. She wouldn't get it. And neither would the blob. Dusting off the dirt clinging to his garments, Bandage moves a man aside with his arms, exiting the building.

  17. #17
    Arya lurched to her feet, the buzz she'd been riding slowly filtering out of her body as her advanced metabolism broke down the alchohol she'd consumed earlier. She seemed to have made it out on one side of the brawl that was overtaking nearly the entire bar. Satisfied, she hardly noticed as the bandaged guy got to his feet and shoved past her, his earlier heroics forgotten.

    The smuggler dug into the inside pocket of her scuffed nerfhide jacket and pulled out a credit chit, flipping it to the furious bartender. "Sorry about the mess!" she called out over the ruckus, and ducked out of the door before anyone could stop her.

    Once out in the cool night air, she pulled out a cigarra and lit it up, enjoying the fragrant smoke. The pink thing, she noticed had followed her. Again.

    Arya jabbed at it with the glowing tip of the cigarra, and frowned. "What the frell are you?"

  18. #18
    Mortie
    Guest
    ortie lurched backwards at the nefarious advance of the red hot cigarra, but miscalculated his own strength; he tumbled into the outside of the bar, flipped around panicked (surprised by the sudden appearance of the wall), and ran into the face of an exiting patron. The man yelped and swatted at his face. Mortie was stuck in limbo for a moment, dodging the man's large hands, before he finally swooped away and floated before Arya, panting.

    Calamity, it seemed, followed the alien closely. Either that or he was just plain retarded.

    "What the frell are you?"

    Thrilled that she was actually talking to him, Mortie zoomed up until he was inces from the smuggler's face. He sucked in a breath, preparing for a lengthy explanation... and then deflated looking just as, if not more, confused as Arya.

    Before the human eye could register it, Mortie dissapeared and a tiny little Arya hovered in the air. The likeness was exact, right down to the worn boots and the impatient scowl. Little Arya shrugged, and then wiggled her fingers gleefully. She giggled, and then pointed to herself.

    "Mortie."

    The scowl returned, and suddenly the mini-smuggler was holding a miniscule cigarra. She jerked it at Big Arya with overexagerated force.

    "What the frell are you?"

  19. #19
    Arya narrowed her eyes and grabbed the alien with her fist. Her reflexes were faster than a normal human's, and the mini-Arya's eyes popped wide as she squeezed. "None of your damn business. But hey, you're a good lookin' woman and I'm feeling generous so you get to live."

    She laughed uproariously at her own joke (okay, so not all of her buzz had left yet) and released the little shapeshifter. "So you can talk, and you shapeshift, hmm?" Arya was walking away from the bar, towards a dark alley across the street.

  20. #20
    Bandage
    Guest
    Bandage was sitting in the alley, dabbing with a cloth some blood that had began to trickle from his nose. It wasn't broken, but it did hurt a bit. No matter. Looking up as he cleaned himself up, he noticed that the same woman was making her way to the alley. And with her, was the pink bubble, but at the moment it was in a shape that he could not see. They were still a fair distance away. Bandage leaned back against the wall, barely noticing that he was further in the shadows this way. The small cloth red with blood, Bandage went for another.

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