Second Chance Encounters in the Sarlacc Pit
Posted on Tue May 29th, 2018 @ 10:06pm by Mentis & Kalen "Rex" Vickers
Edited on on Tue Jun 19th, 2018 @ 2:26pm
4,141 words; about a 21 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter V: Unbound
Location: The Sarlacc Pit Cantina, Nar Shaddaa
Timeline: 1030 hours, One week after "No Glory Among Slaves"
Tags: The Sarlacc Pit, Mentis, Rex, pazaak, cantina, Nar Shaddaa, Jawa Juice, Vosh
A dark black boot plunged into a murky puddle on the warped and worn durasteel pavement, causing the colourful reflections from the neon lights to dance about on the surface before settling back into place. The owner of the boot looked up at the source of the glow; a tangle of neon lights in various ostentatious colours formed the words: “The Sarlacc Pit”, with some more neon piping bent into wavy lines surrounding the words, imitating the tentacles of the rare and deadly Sarlacc creatures, such as the one found in the Great Pit of Carkoon on Tatooine.
The figure drew his black shroud up, attempting to mask himself from the sentients that darted about the busy street. He crept forward and into the light of the cantina, beginning to smell the dank aroma of alcohol and sense the life teeming within. He had not long landed in the Entertainment Sector but had felt ill at ease the entire journey; packed into the transport ship he had taken to get here and now amongst thousands of life forms spewing their thoughts out like gibbering Tachs.
But something drew him to this particular establishment and it was not the mind-numbing liquor or dancing girls that brought him, but that almost-invisible nudge in the Force that told him this was the place to start. He allowed that nudge to carry him onward and he took the steps down into The Sarlacc Pit and towards whatever fate he was meant to meet.
OOC: Some mood music for the scene below: Cantina Music Selection
The bar was busy, but the dark figure found a spot to perch and, when the bartender droid rotated around to him, he hesitantly withdrew the wrap from around his face, revealing the a chalky-white face, with a thick scar that that marred the traditional Rattattaki tattoos that stretched across his bald head.
“What can I get you?” the hollow metallic voice of the droid asked.
“Vosh and tonic,” Mentis replied, counting out a few of the small credit chits in his hand before handing them over. The former cultist had little currency at hand, having had to sell the speeder he had taken in order to pay for his passage here. If he hoped to leave Nar Shaddaa, he would have to find some other means of income, legitimate or otherwise.
While he waited for the droid to shift its many pipelines and dispense his drink, Mentis stole a glance down the bar. Most of the patrons seemed to be drinking alone, spying mostly stony faces looking into the middle distance as they spun empty thoughts around their skulls. He wondered what hope there was of finding the lead he needed here. Ever since leaving the cult, he had been fixated on locating the crew of the Red Raptor who had, for a long time, been his adversaries as part of the Cult. However, as the old saying went: ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’ and Mentis felt as though they could offer him much and they had certainly shown an aptitude for evading the cult thus far.
The drink was placed before him and he stepped away from the bar with it and set about to investigate the rest of the cantina, which was divided up into several sections. He hoped that what he was seeking would reveal itself without talking to too many people. Axion was known to have contacts throughout the galaxy and he was bound to be looking to recover his lost disciple; the fewer heads he turned, the better.
He found himself wandering into a section of The Sarlacc Pit reserved for card tables and bar games. There was a sizeable group gathered around one particular pazaak table who seemed significantly more focussed than the rest of the dreary rabble. Obviously, the activity of the players was stimulating enough to keep them away from their liquid depressants.
A cheer rose up and credit chips were shaken in the air as one of the players won a tense final round against their opponent, who seemed less than pleased at the loss. Drawing closer and standing at an adjacent, unoccupied table, Mentis took a sip of his drink and listened.
“—once again, the dashing Rex Vickers walks away from the pazaak table with both the credits,” said the victor in a jovial triumphant tone, a deep timbre to his voice giving it a distinct level of gravitas entirely belied by his smuggler’s attired, “and the heart of this gorgeous young debutante.”
A dark-skinned Human male, Rex winked flirtatiously at the sultry Togruta woman draped across the stool next to him, her bejewelled hands and arms just inches from contact with the man. Sat next to her, simmering with a barely contained rage and garbed in finery to match that of the Togruta – evidently his companion – was a corpulent Klatooinian, his pronounced brow studded with garish glinting stones, separated only by thin faded tattooed tribal markings. On the collar of the hulking alien’s ill-fitting surcoat was a symbol familiar to Mentis – one that had adorned both various indulgent pieces of furniture in Grogga’s Palace and had also been draped across the Cartel enforcers that had appeared at Jericho some weeks before. The Klatooinian was clearly unimpressed by both his defeat, and the attentions the Togruta was now lavishing over the smug Rex.
Mentis could feel the anger rising within the losing party; it was a familiar sensation to the Rattataki, who had so recently murdered his former associate in such a heat of anger. However, the act of killing Trey had left him feeling a cold emptiness. He did not regret that Trey had died, but there was no fulfilment to the act and it had only made room for more fear. Looking at this being now, he sensed he was close to that tipping point too: he did not really want to fight this Rex character, but he was compelled to by his raging endocrine system.
A low growl began to rumble through the weighty chest of the Klatooinian, and small slithers of uncontrolled saliva slipped from his gold incisors, poking out between his cracked, trembling lips. “You cheated!” He finally grunted, standing so suddenly and jabbing a yellowed claw at his opponent it cut Rex’s hearty laugh off, and the Togruta immediately stopped giggling as she instinctively sought refuge in the chest of the Human following the outburst.
“Whoah, whoah!” Rex exclaimed quickly, pushing back in his stool and shunting the Togruta woman away without a care at the sudden shift in dynamic, appearing entirely uninterested in the affections of his second prize as she almost slipped off of her seat in the motion. A few of his recently-won credit chits clattered across the sticky pazaak table and onto the floor, and a few of the foolhardier spectators let their avaricious eyes pass over them, although none dared to make a move.
“Thekk, buddy… there’s no need to be hasty!” Rex continued to appeal, two calloused palms raised in a posture of deference, although a couple of the patrons, most notably a pair of twitchy Rodians, were already fingering the holsters hanging on their hips, ready for whatever calamity developed. Throughout the rest of the cantina, the majority of the customers only paid a brief bit of attention to Rex’s plight. After all, if the black marks scorching several areas of the walls and ceiling were anything to go by, The Sarlacc Pit had seen its fair share of shootouts.
“You give the credits back!” Thekk demanded, globs of murky spittle finding their way across the pazaak table and onto Rex, who smeared the offending liquid with one hand as another dipped down, even as he managed to retreat further back on his stool, which was an impressive manoeuvre, given its size. “Or I will break your little Human bones!” The alien threatened, turning his pointing finger into an exaggerated fist. One of the Rodians unclasped their blaster.
Eyeing the clenched hand of his foe, the wavering of Rex’s brown eyes betrayed both his deep concern but also a sly intelligence, quickly working out how best to survive Thekk. “I… I… You don’t wanna be doing that,” Rex stumbled his way through, his voice finally finding its confidence as he went on, his back straightening as his own hand seemed to find a purchase on something by his leg beneath the table. “I mean, you don’t wanna be explaining this to Grogga now, do ya? One of his new domos, spilling the blood of his finest – and dare I say, best-looking – supplier this side of the Mid Rim, especially after all that recent kark with Zorbo, the Mandos - and them dirty Jedi.” He gave an exaggerated shrug and what he must have deduced was a winning smile. Even if it was not winning anything now, it was certainly well-practised. “Don’t think he’s in the forgiving frame of mind, if you know what I mean?”
The other Rodian unclasped his blaster, making a visible show of it to the Klatooinian, who tilted his head at the silent, obvious threat from the green-skinned enforcers, apparently realising his position was not going to save him from his pride and stupidity. Also apparently reading the situation, Rex’s smug attitude was marching forward again, and his smile grew bigger as he leaned forward on the table, once again hoarding his various-coloured credit chits, made only more colourful by the tacky neon lights of the cantina.
“But I tell you what,” Rex then said, his head still being bored into by the staring, hateful eyes of Thekk, “because I’m such a stand-up guy, I’ll pay off your tab at the bar. In fact, for all of my friends here at the best cantina this side of the district, all of the next round is on me, too!”
There was a raucous uproar of contented shouts from the patrons, even from those sequestered away in hidden corners who had apparently been keeping to the dank shadows during the tense moment between the two Cartel ‘employees’. Dirty tankards and limbs of all shapes rose in joy at Rex’s show of charity, although the glint in his eye as he watched Thekk made it clear that the round was, in fact, courtesy of the Klatooinian’s losses. Thekk was also clearly aware of this.
Next to Mentis, a pasty white arm barged into the Dark Jedi’s shoulder as he joined the revelry, its owner an entirely unaware white Twi’lek who paid no attention to Mentis, having somehow managed to silently sidle up beside him, an unknown frothing beverage clenched in his other hand that stank of the sickly sweet scent of decaying fruit.
The former cultist had been focusing intently on the human for some time; while clearly not the bravest individual, he had made himself untouchable to the patrons of the cantina, with but a few carefully chosen words and gestures. He had also interestingly revealed his knowledge of recent events surrounding the cult and the Red Raptor crew. The unwelcome shoving he received suddenly brought him back into the moment and he drew his robe closer, as though he were avoiding some rancid puddle from soaking it.
Stepping back momentarily, Mentis considered Grogga's involvement on Jericho. Zrad had tried to play all sides and had lost, but he must have added further fuel to the fires of revenge that burned within the old Hutt. He would surely have doubled his efforts to trace Axion's dealings as well as those of the crew that pursued him. While Grogga would never work with someone associated with the cult, given his previous experience, perhaps someone on the outside, like this Smuggler Vickers, would have access to some of the intelligence he had gathered.
The small circus of supporters, after offering their thanks, congratulations and a few hearty pats on the back of their cupboard-love friend Rex, began to dissipate, either heading to the bar or forming new groups about the cantina. Thekk merely scowled at Rex before clasping his Togruta unceremoniously by the arm to yank her away towards the bar himself, where he only stopped briefly to presumably check that his tab had indeed been waived, before marching out of the Sarlacc. Rex, whilst simultaneously counting up his winnings, had watched the Klatooinian leave with laughing, hooded eyes. His expression was now of a man who, despite the obvious cowardice he had been slave to just moments ago, felt he had just diced with death and won once again, as if he had now never truly been at risk.
Seeing the situation was defused and not ones to pass up on free drinks, the two Rodian enforcers also ambled their way over to the small crowd that had encircled the bar, thrusting and elbowing their way to the front without a care for the other patrons, leaving Rex contentedly alone to bask in his little victory and start pocketing his winnings.
After a while, it was only Rex and Mentis left in the games area, while the centre bar was now overflowing with patrons attempting to get their orders in. Swirling the last remnants of his drink, Mentis set the glass down on the empty table he was perched at and moved towards the table Rex sat at.
Pulling back the chair opposite, he sat down before the man, leaning a pale arm down upon the faded green felt of the playing table, "Congratulations on your victory against that Klatooinian fellow," he began, fiddling with a '±2' card that still lay on the table, "You seem rather talented at playing the crowd too."
Rex had said nothing as the newcomer positioned himself opposite, offering only one eye somewhat more narrowed than the other as he regarded Mentis with pronounced scepticism.
"Uhh... thanks," the Human replied simply, shifting his shoulders upwards in a brief gesture as he kept his palms splayed across the chits arrayed before him. Rex seemed to be examining the dark robes that passed as Mentis' garb, as well as seemingly looking for any lumps or bumps in the outfit that could be concealed weapons, before settling on the tattooed man's face once again.
"Do I, uhh, know you, fella?" Through the Force, it was obvious that Rex had no definite knowledge of the Ratattaki's identity, but his nervousness - and suspicion - were both deeply palpable.
Sensing his target’s unease, Mentis himself relaxed, feeling as though he had dominance over the encounter. The man did not have a menacing appearance and seemed unlikely to initiate hostilities, particularly given the previous display. Still, there was an intelligence in his eyes and in his aura that belied his devil-may-care exterior, “No, I do not believe we are acquainted. But I understand you may be somewhat aware of the organisation which I was, until just recently, a part of. To that end, you might be just the person that can assist me.”
"Oh yeah?" Rex replied, now sounding a bit more forward. "And who exactly would that be?" Even as the words tumbled out of the man's mouth, his eyes widened in a hint of realisation, the dark robes and general appearance of the mysterious warrior forcing the reality of Rex's situation to dawn on him, there being only a very limited selection of groups that Mentis could feasibly have been a member of.
"Hey," Rex spoke before Mentis could even answer, his voice hushed, serious and wary all at once. As he had with the Klatooinian, he raised his palms up from his small horde of cash in defensive posture. "I don't want no trouble with no Dark Jedi. I'm just a courier. A delivery boy, even. I don't know nothing about anything, really! I just ferry the merchandise from aurek to zerek, maybe make a few easy creds on the side, y'know? The Hutts don't tell me anything important - I'm just the lackey, the pilot, the navigator! Really!"
The heavily sideburned man finally stopped talking as he looked at Mentis with almost-pleading eyes, the words having streamed from the previous into the next with not so much as a breath in-between.
That sudden burst of fear caught Mentis' attention; he found it somewhat distasteful that this seemingly-intelligent man should have such poor control over his surface emotions. He had long since learned how to channel such feelings into strengths and seeing the human jabbering now made him honestly doubt himself in approaching the table.
Brushing away such doubts, the pale darksider continued, "I highly doubt that you are simply a lackey. Perhaps you truly do not hold any information of value to me but, at the very least, you may be able to point me in the right direction. I truly believe I am here in this dingy place for a reason. You may not believe in such things, but there is a greater will we can follow than the fates of the cards here on this table and I refuse to leave my life to chance any longer."
Mentis produced a small talisman: an octagonal stone bearing the insignia that Axion had taken to identify his cult. He tossed it to the table so that it landed in plain sight of Rex, who stared down at the object.
Rex withdrew his hands quickly as he eyed the occult charm resting in front of him with sinking recognition, as if even the merest hint of contact with it would cause him harm. His eyes remained transfixed on the talisman for a moment longer before Mentis spoke, causing the Human's eyes to dart straight back to the Dark Jedi.
"I have forsaken my previous life of servitude and I sense that you are a man who also values his freedom," Mentis stared intently across the game surface, while beneath the table he swept his hand to aid the Force manipulation he applied to his next words, "You will offer me your assistance."
Rex did not break eye contact as Mentis spoke, and showed no outward signs of fear or panic, his demeanour becoming one, at least for a brief moment, of serene calm. Even his shoulders appeared to relax, before then tensing up once again, that deep flicker of intelligence sparking to life within his eyes once more as he returned his white-sleeved arms onto the pazaak table.
"Alright, I will offer you my assistance," the swarthy man's words reclaimed their sanguine undertones as he spoke. "But if we're gonna do this, whatever this is, we're gonna do it my way, and we'll have to be super careful about it - and I hella don't work for free! If Grogga even gets the slightest whiff you're on his turf again, he won't care that you've turned Lando on your mad old boss. He'll use those pretty tattoos of yours as little guidance lines when he shoves his favourite plasma torch in front of those wacky mismatched eyes of yours." Rex's own eyes then widened as he realised what he said. "Not that you ain't a looker, buddy! No offence intended, o'course."
The Hutt Cartel had never seemed that threatening when Mentis had been under the banner of Axion, but he could not help but feel a trickle of concern at the man's warning now that he was flying solo. He suddenly became more aware of the crowds around him, some of whom would certainly sell him out to the Hutt without a moment's thought. Not Vickers, however, it seemed. At least, not yet.
Rex looked about conspiratorially, but the other patrons were still chugging their free drinks and ignoring their smuggler benefactor as they continued to swill the variously-coloured beverages. Leaning forward, he spoke in a heavy, hushed tone to Mentis. "So, uhh, what exactly is it you expect me to put my hide on the line for you for, huh? You must have dragged your chalky ass this far across the galaxy for something pretty damn important. Either that or your sabacc pot really is as dry as a bantha's cooch. So what is it?"
Whether Mentis' mind trick had worked or not, Rex seemed suitably agreeable, which gave him some confidence, "I need you to locate some people for me and I need you to do it quietly. Neither your boss or my former Master should ever catch wind of where I intend to go."
Rex eyed the former cultist with an avaricious expression that Mentis had come to realise meant the other man was seeing credit symbols dancing about before his eyes, although it remained tempered by that usual glimmer of wariness that seemed to punctuate every expression, breath and motion that went with the Human. "That sounds reasonable enough, I s'pose," he said, that winning smile threatening to play back across his puckered lips, "depending on who it is yer after."
Mentis leaned forwards, mirroring Rex so that the two were inches apart, "You have perhaps heard of the former Jedi Knight, Thane, who recently gained some media attention for aiding a Dromachean criminal," Mentis tried to gauge a reaction from the human as he spoke, "He is travelling with some associates: an Ithorian Jedi and a Mandalorian bounty hunter who made contact with the cult on this very moon some months ago, where they stole a ship from Grogga."
A stream of the Jawa juice Rex had dared to sip spouted back out of his mouth, the Cartel supplier only managing to get his hand up narrowly in time to stop Mentis being decorated in the bitter Tatooinian beverage. "Sev Rezer's crew!" He spluttered loudly in between coughs before he managed to recover himself, then giving another surreptitious glance about the patrons before he repeated himself, this time more quietly. "Rezer's crew? What in the name of the Force would you want to find them for?"
Having lurched back at the sudden explosion of juice from Rex, Mentis shot a few nervous glances around the establishment before returning to the human with a creased brow, “Keep your voice down,” he hissed, resisting an urge to silence the man himself with a telekinetic grasp of his windpipe, “Yes, I am familiar with Rezer and his kin. If he still travels with the Jedi, then he is of interest to me as well.”
Summoning the Axion talisman to his hand again and shaking it towards Rex, Mentis added, “This is not cult business, but my reasons for reaching them are my own. Simply tell me: can you find them?”
Rex let a whistle of exaggerated air escape his pursed lips, eyebrows raised. "It's a pretty tall ask what you're gunning for, my pale friend, especially if you're gonna keep a lotta' of these things to yourself. Look, I'm all about helping the little guy and seeing that we all get our happy-ever-afters, but not if it means I'm losin' mine. But yeah, you can bet your bony ass I can find them. Although it's like I said; I don't work for free, so in exchange for me doing this for you and throwing myself out in the open like this - which really ain't my style, by the way - you're going to have do a little something for me." He shrugged casually and gave Mentis that self-assured I'm-definitely-getting-something-out-of-this smile he had used too many times already in a very short duration.
"I can make myself available to assist you," Mentis spoke agreeably as he leaned back, pocketing his trinket again, "What sort of work do you have in mind?"
The gambler gave a short laugh, downed the last of his drink, and scooped up the remainder of his winnings with the same enthusiasm he had won them, before rising up with vigour from his stool. "All in good time, my mad new companion," he declared as he smacked Mentis on the arm in a comradely fashion, and he was already swaggering towards the exit of the cantina before the Dark Jedi had barely a chance to clamber up from his own chair.
Stopping just short of the door, Rex suddenly whirled around and fixed Mentis with a very serious expression and a near-jab of a finger in his robed chest. "Just one thing: you do have one of them laser blades though, right?"
TBC
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