Luck Has Nothing to do With It.
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12.22.2012 , 03:53 PM |
Sorry about not posting, but I've had a busy week. Also, I don't use outlines, so ideas don't really flow well for me.
Chapter 3 is short, put Chapter 4 is a bit better.
Chapter 3: Confrontation
Risec stood in the doorway, his hands crossed and a smile across his lips. His clothing was still charred, but the soot had been removed from his skin and hair. Acara’s frame appeared behind him, dark and imposing. The Zabrak on the ground shuddered, and silently whimpered. Nemen Dao began to carefully rise from the ground. When he finally stood completely up, Risec grabbed him by the collar, and yanked Nemen towards him. Their faces were inches apart. Risec’s smile had become a scowl, while Nemen Dao face had morphed to fear.
“I thought we had agreed not to come onto my ship?!” Risec said slowly, allowing for his voice to seep into Nemen.
“Well?” interrupted Risec. Acara had moved deeper into the ship, and growled when he found the other agents. He moved them towards Nemen, and finally the three agents stood in the cargo bay, while Risec and Acara stood in the doorway. Risec shoved Nemen back, and he landed on Lora. She stumbled, but stayed up.
“So, let’s hear it.” announced Risec. He motioned for someone to begin speaking, but no one did. Finally, Risec drew his pistol, and aimed at Nemen. “Talk.”
“Damien forced us to!” He blurted, which in turn earned him a stare from his superior. Risec turned to “D”, but “D” spoke before he could.
“You’re a smuggler. I arrest smugglers.” Damien said, cool and casual. He was level headed, and clearly knew what he was doing. The other agents looked nervous, as though they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
“Damien. That’s your name?” and “D” nodded. Risec stood there thinking, and at last holstered his weapon. “Get out.” He stated, and Acara roared his approval. Nemen made a dash to the door, and sprinted down the ramp. Lora tried to compose herself, but failed to do so. She was sweating heavily, but followed Damien out as calmly as she could.
Risec had entered the ship for supplies. They had gained popularity quickly attemping to solve problems for civilians, and Risec knew a goldmine when he saw one. The ship needed repairs-that was what he had told Acara. This was true, but only some of the credits would go to that. A smuggler had to dress in style!
After hiding the cargo again, Risec set off for the first of new jobs. A man had approached him earlier, begging for Risec’s help. The man had seen Mandalorians attacking a farmer’s house outside of Khoonda, and asked for Risec to approach them. Risec had agreed, and now was walking though the tall grass of the plains.
Risec made his way through the grass towards the house. It seemed fine, with only minor damage to windows.
“Cover me.” Risec said, and Acara nodded while Risec drew his pistol. Mandalorians don’t negotiate.
Chapter 4: Sour Negotiations
A flurry shots fired out of Risec’s blaster. He rolled to his right, and into cover- a knocked over table. Acara lifted his bowcaster and fired, sending more bolts towards the Mandalorians. The negotiations had gone sour.
Risec raised himself up, and fired at a Mandalorian, hitting his chest. The warrior fell backwards, and crumpled on the floor. Illegal modifications were good at something, and that was killing. Risec held his pistol in both hands; it was easier to fight behind cover like that. Red and blue blaster fire sailed over his position, and Risec ducked even more. Acara was laying down suppressive fire, and knocking of Mandalorians left and right. In the beginning there had been twelve Mando’s. Six where still standing.
Risec stood up, and fired. Green streaks of death whirled towards the enemy, and hit their mark. Suddenly, Risec felt the metal of a Mandalorian glove clutching his shirt. He was being lifted up! A fist landed in his stomach, but he continued to fight. One pistol whip and a kick to the groin later, he was back in cover. The Mando lay unconscious, but Risec fired into his chest. The warrior stopped breathing.
Acara let out an earsplitting roar, telling Risec to get down. The wookiee had lobbed a grenade, and Risec did as he was told. The explosion ripped apart the remaining Mandalorians, as well as furniture and the table Risec was behind. He felt the heat, but was unharmed.
The Mandalorians had occupied the opposite side of the house, and the blasts had been fired between rooms. The shockwave had been absorbed for the most part before hitting Acara and the smuggler, but they felt it.
The old man had been right; Mandalorians had been using this house as a base for mercenary operations. An entire family had been slaughtered for the land, and only two had escaped. This was all discussed in the negotiation between the smuggler and Mandalorian leader, which sparked the firefight.
Risec walked around the room, his pistol clutched in his right hand. A blast of green entered all the dead, just to make sure. A man could only be backstabbed so many times before he learned to make sure someone’s dead, before pronouncing them dead. Risec had learned that the hard way.
“Two thousand five hundred credits and you got a deal.” said Risec, on his third job of the day. This time, a man had been sold a fake artifact from the enclave, and wanted revenge.
“Can’t you do something lower, like one thousand?” asked the man, whose brown hair was glowing in the setting sun. His freckles showed long days of work in the sun, and blues eyes begged for Risec to help him.
“Two thousand.” stated Risec, and his voice made it clear that was it.
“Fine, two thousand.” Agreed the man, his voice upset, but he shook hands with Risec. His hand was rough and calloused, only reinforcing the thought he was a farmer. Though, it seemed everyone here was a farmer, or a mercenary, or scavenger. Not many engineers, the thing Risec really needed. He had purchased new clothes, which made him look rough and handsome. A gray short sleeved shirt, with armor protruding at different angles, and sown between the fabric. His pants were a faded blue, and also sported the armor between layers of denym. His belt was the same as before, along with the holster.
“Hey, you know any engineers near here?” questioned Risec, and the man chuckled.
“I am one. Why?” The man answered, his face completely lit up.
“I need some repairs. I’ll even agree to help you for the fifteen hundred!” Risec announced, and the man heartily agreed.
“By the way, my name is Kiren. Now, show me the ship.”
“Wow, this might be hard. What’d you do to the poor thing, go through an asteroid field?” he asked, and began checking all side of the ship, compiling data for repairs. Risec laughed it off, and led Kiren inside. He inspected the engine, and then began to tell Risec the damage.
“… and the engines need serious repairs; we may even have to get new ones. The shields are crippled, and the entire hull needs to be repainted.” He assessed, and Risec agreed. They shook, and Kiren began to get to work, his face alight for the first time in a while. Not many people came to Dantoonine for engineering.
"I fight for no causes but my own, and what I did, I did for no man but myself."