Aphelion and the House Divided - Star Wars: The Will of the Force

Date: Friday, 17 Jul 2015, 1:54 PM | Message # 1

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After he came back home from walking Mara to work, he had little time to sit down before there was a knock at the door. When he opened the door, he was faced with one of his many street urchin helpers. It was odd for them to approach him directly like this; normally they would meet him in designated safe spots in the neighborhood.

“Tooke, what are you doing?,” he asked.

The little girl stared innocently at him, a look of fear in her eyes. The small human female was probably no older than eight or nine; she had an olive complexion and natural beauty that led one to believe she would be a heartbreaker when she was older. Her piercing blue eyes look up at him through cracked eye glasses. He kept replacing them for her, but somehow they kept getting broken; he had a feeling it had something to do with her insistence that she play shockball with the boys of the neighborhood. After some moments he picked the petite girl up and carried her inside. He ruffled the messy, raven hair of hers as he set her down on the couch.

“Tooke, what’s going on?”

“Leroy, there’s a man looking for you. Said his name was Huff. Paid me to tell you to meet him on Nal Hutta.”

He instantly stood up at this news.

“Thank you, Tooke. Go on and find the others. Tell them to keep an eye out for anyone else looking for me.”

Huff was a man named Huff Irris. He was a bulky man, appearing to be obese but actually a mountain of muscle which even he hesitated to be on the wrong side of. He worked as a bounty broker for the Hutt Cartel, essentially a middle man between all of the Hutt kajidics and the independents that worked for them. It was no secret however that he was an unofficial member of the Desilijic kajidic. The fact that he was looking for him, was both worrying, as it could only mean trouble, and infuriating, as he had approached the kids. He protected the kids, as they protected him; for Huff to know about them, it was a shocking moment which put him on edge. Nonetheless, he would grab his gear and head to Nal Hutta to see what the man wanted. Before leaving, he left a note for Mara.

* * *

Hours later, he was landing his ship back onto the landing pad. He was still on edge. Huff called him in such dramatic fashion to warn him. The Hutts were tired of his playing of all sides, and several kajidics were considering going after him. The message was clearer than Huff perhaps meant to make it, or perhaps it was exactly what Huff wanted to really say. If he knew about the kids, that meant the Hutts did too or would soon enough. It was time to begin thinking about a way out of Hutt Space.

As he walked back to the apartment from the landing pad, his mind was racing. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had come over him, and he couldn’t bring himself down from being on edge. Mara would know something was wrong just looking at him from a mile away. He shook his head and continued walking.

Lafayette "Leroy" Ransom
Bounty Hunter, Mercenary

Date: Saturday, 18 Jul 2015, 0:15 AM | Message # 2

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Rawls had hovered over the refresher for nearly half an hour that morning, vacating the last of the previous day's Corellian ale and Blossom wine. His stomach, it seemed, was indignant about the mixture of the two, and understandably so. He hadn't had so much to drink in nearly a year, and now that his stomach had sent a significant amount of it back from whence it had come, his failure as a Corellian was complete. Somewhere, probably in the choicest of the nine Corellian hells, his father was laughing his mean-spirited laugh at him.

But at least Rawls had more to show for it than just a particularly nasty hangover; he'd found Davon, and that's what mattered. The boy had apparently woken up earlier than him and presumably set out in search of Mara. Rawls had lost some time, but not much. Ransom would be easier to find than Davon had been, he reasoned. But what happened then remained to be seen. Davon seemed to have forgiven him, or mostly had. But the boy's words had cut him deep, and Ransom wasn't so much a man of words as of, well, guns. But he was also a professional, and Rawls hoped he'd be able to put the recent past behind them. (That didn't mean he was going to approach Ransom unarmed, however; whatever else he had been on the Aphelion, and in some ways Ransom had been a brother to Rawls and the rest of the crew, the man was still a killer.)

Still hunched over the refresher, Rawls caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, at the scars on his back that hadn't been there half a year ago, nor had the nearly-fatal gash beneath his ear, nor the bruises on his chest from the numerous blaster bolts his protective vest had absorbed for him. Even now, the smell of carbon scoring seemed to follow him wherever he went. Yes, Rawls had encountered harder men than Leroy Ransom in his scrape for life and limb in Hutt Space over the past several months. But Ransom was the only one of them who Rawls would rather have on his side.

He sighed, ran a towel through his hair, and regarded himself in the mirror for another moment. Then he got ready.

Aaron Rawls
Captain of the Aphelion, sort of

Date: Sunday, 19 Jul 2015, 5:03 PM | Message # 3

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* * *

"Funny you mention our friend, Mr. Ransom," the Rodian said, his high-pitched voice doing no favors for 'Warron's lingering headache. Huttese wasn't exactly a romance language to begin with, and Neese veritably spat the words across the table in one of Njon the Hutt's many fine drinking establishments on Nar Shaddaa. But the Sky Judge hadn't come here for the ambiance, nor for the pleasure of Neese's company. He'd come for answers.

"And here I thought you didn't have a sense of humor, Neese," Warron said, his own voice distorted through the characteristic face mask of the Sky Judge.

"Be that as it may," the Rodian said, waving a death stick dismissively in the air, "Ransom just made an appearance today on Nal Hutta. He's up there now, in fact. And this time, we got his ship; it's a Skipray blastboat. The name of it has something to do with a 'horse.'" Neese took a prolonged drag of his death stick. He sighed contentedly, closed his eyes and opened them again to find those red eye-pieces staring back at him impatiently. "It's called The Horse that Death Rode, all right? I don't understand it either, but it's registered at Rowo's Landing."

"Thanks," Warron said, standing abruptly from his chair and turning to leave.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"Listen to me, Neese," he said, glancing back to the Rodian, "You and I have worked together before. You're a halfway-decent bounty hunter, a decent Rodian as far as I know, and you probably have friends who don't hate you. I don't hate you, most of the time. But Ransom is mine, and if you get in my way, tah-koh tee womp rat e’nachu."

"What is this, some Sector Ranger chisk?" Neese said defiantly, "Njon sent me after Ransom. Why should you care?"

"I have my reasons. All you need to worry about is your death sticks killing you instead of me. Understand?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode out of the bar. Neese hesitated for a moment, then hastily ground his death stick into an ash tray and scrambled for his jacket. "Dopa maskey Humans," he muttered as he hurried after Salas.

* * *

Fortunately, Rowo needed less convincing than Neese. For a few credits, the Twi'lek had been happy to tell the Sky Judge which docking bay Ransom's ship was registered to, and he knew better than to ask any questions. It was the least he could do for the Anjiliacs, he had said, then shuffled away to count his money. From that point on, Salas had only to wait—with any luck, Ransom would be back soon. Salas knew that the man resided somewhere on the Smuggler's Moon, and that he was known for making day trips to Nal Hutta to get his marching orders from Irris. But what Ransom didn't know this time was that the Hutts were tired of his games. Njon in particular had reason to want Ransom dead, and in a rare showing of Hutt solidarity, the Desilijics were letting him make his move against Ransom without the usually-obligatory threat of reprisal.

As he leaned against a cargo crate across the street from the enormous landing tower, fairly inconspicuous among the commerce on the street, the Sky Judge still hadn't decided how to confront Ransom. He would have preferred to drop the subterfuge of the "Sky Judge" and approach the man earnestly, but he was reasonably sure that Neese wouldn't give up on his bounty so easily. The Rodian was probably here somewhere, and Salas couldn't let himself be seen on pleasant terms with an enemy of more Hutt kajidics than a Calibop had feathers.

And so he watched, and waited.

Warron Salas
"The Sky Judge"

Bounty Hunter
Rogue Sector Ranger (rumored)

Date: Sunday, 19 Jul 2015, 11:18 PM | Message # 4

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When he landed with The Horse That Death Rode, he had his brief time on Nal Hutta on his mind. Unlike his usual routine, he left his gear stowed in the ship. His mind was racing as to what step to take next. Huff Irris was many things, a liar or man of humor was not one of them. The Anjiliacs were coming for him, soon. The Desilijics were supporting it, as well as many other kajidics. The Hutt Cartel was formally putting a bounty out on him. At least Huff gave him the professional courtesy of letting him know.

He knew this day would come, but it was a bit shocking how quickly things were moving. He had a day to get out of Hutt Space, and Mara would certainly have to come with him. It was less how to go about this that distracted him, and more where to go. Unfortunately, many of the factions he could hide out with either also had a bounty on his head or were unacceptable options.

Kothlis was probably the only world that he could at least safely go to. He had a trump card up his sleeve, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to use it yet. After locking the ship, he soon came out onto the street, discretely and absent-mindedly kept his hands very close to the quick-draw holsters which held his WESTAR-34s. He began a slow walk towards the general direction of his home with Mara.

Lafayette "Leroy" Ransom
Bounty Hunter, Mercenary

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 2:42 AM | Message # 5

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By the time Ransom had emerged from Rowo's Landing into the crowded square outside, the sun had begun to set and Salas had been on his feet for almost two hours. He couldn't help but entertain the possibility that Ransom might not return tonight. Or at all, if Irris had warned him about the bounty on his head. Salas felt his stomach rumble, and remembered he'd not eaten today. The smell of generously-seasoned terk hide from a Toydarian food stall nearby had tempted him all afternoon. Now, hungry, his feet tired, his eyes tired, and sweaty beneath the accursed face mask, he wandered over to the food stall—just to look at the selection, of course. And to take in that wonderful aroma. It was then, naturally, that his comlink beeped.

"So, did you get your man? He just landed a few minutes ago." It was Rowo.

Salas swore under his breath. "Thanks a lot" he growled into his comlink as he abandoned the food kiosk and looked hurriedly in the direction of the landing tower, then around the crowded square. But he had missed Ransom completely.

Then he saw Neese, the tall, green-skinned Rodian standing out from the crowd as he moved out from the square, his hand on the blaster pistol tucked into his belt. And further ahead of Nees was a bald-headed man whom Salas would be able to pick out at a convention of bald-headed men. It was Gopptula himself—Ransom.

Salas hurried off in pursuit of the Rodian, surreptitiously clicking the safeties off of his SSK-7 and Model 434 blaster pistols as he closed the distance between them. Neese was a dead Rodian walking now, and whether he killed him or Ransom did wasn't important to Salas, as long as he didn't kill Ransom first.

Warron Salas
"The Sky Judge"

Bounty Hunter
Rogue Sector Ranger (rumored)

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 2:43 AM | Message # 6

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Ransom continued walking out of the square and into the tighter pedestrian lanes of the neighborhood. It was perhaps a blessing, and maybe a curse, that were no speeder lanes for several blocks. He moved into the crowd and kept himself tight with passers-by, now placing his hands on the grips to his pistols. He felt uneasy, thinking he was potentially being followed. As a precaution, he turned left, to head away from the apartment.

The foot traffic would not dissipate however with the new lane. The area wasn't packed like Coruscant, but it was nonetheless decently busy. As he walked, Tooke gingerly began walking alongside him, likely hidden from Neese and maybe even Salas by the crowd.

"I think you grew a tail," said the small child.

He did not respond. A simple pat on the shoulder was all that was needed to get the child headed back into the crowd and away from him.

Lafayette "Leroy" Ransom
Bounty Hunter, Mercenary

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 2:43 AM | Message # 7

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Salas didn't notice Tooke, as he had his eyes on Neese instead, and particularly on the Rodian's long, tentacled fingers around the grip of his blaster. When Ransom rounded a corner ahead, Neese quickened his pace, and so did Salas. But the Rodian found more than he expected around the corner when he practically ran into a Weequay child. Though neither of them knew it, he was Ikov, one of Ransom's runts.

"You're following Leroy, aren't you?" the Weequay said. Salas was just close enough now to be able to hear them.

"Choy? No, go away," Neese answered brusquely.

"I think you are."

"To pla da banki danko, jospi!"

"This is my home!"

"Peedunky! Leave me alone."

"Give me money."

"No."

"I'll tell Leroy you're following him..."

"I'm not following Le—Rans—Schutta!"

"Oh, Leroy—!" Ikov started to raise his voice, but Neese had had enough. "Kee baatu battu!" the Rodian shouted as he delivered a savage kick to Ikov's side, sending the boy to the ground moaning in pain. Neese abandoned caution and pulled the blaster pistol from his belt, bringing it to bear on Ransom over the heads of the fearful bystanders in the street.

Salas had had enough, too. He threw his cape behind his shoulders and retrieved his blaster pistols, aiming both the SSK-7 and Model 434 squarely at Neese's back as the crowd parted, leaving only the three of them (and Ikov, and perhaps Tooke) on the sidewalk.

Warron Salas
"The Sky Judge"

Bounty Hunter
Rogue Sector Ranger (rumored)

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 2:44 AM | Message # 8

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Neese’s quickened pace brought him closer to Ransom, who now slowed down as he heard a familiar voice in the background. Hearing one of the orphans calling for him immediately alerted him to potential danger behind him. He was indeed being followed. He recognized Ikov, who should not be approaching him when Tooke had already just done so. While they were children, he had trained them well and they knew their jobs and the procedure he had taught them. Something was indeed wrong.

While Neese was distracted by Ikov, Ransom turned around. When he saw the kick being given to the Weequay child, he felt a level of rage burst within him. Instantly, the back of his neck and ears steamed with an unnatural, warm sensation as if they were suddenly ignited into flame. He also threw caution to wind, and charged Neese. He completely disregarded the blasters his hands had been resting on for several minutes. Neese made this personal, not that he recognized the Rodian. He had in fact never meet him, except perhaps in passing, at least according to Ransom’s memory.

As he ran full speed, at the moment Neese brought his blaster to bear on Ransom, Ransom in kind made a jump for Neese while cocking his fist to deliver a savage, airborne right hook.

Lafayette "Leroy" Ransom
Bounty Hunter, Mercenary

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 2:45 AM | Message # 9

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A Rodian's eyes betrayed none of the emotions that he or she was feeling, and nor could a Human discern much from Rodian facial expressions. But in that moment, Neese was afraid. And Ransom would know it, too; if not from Neese crucially hesitating to fire the blaster pistol in his tremulous hand, then from seeing a momentary reflection of himself in the Rodian's eyes and having some idea of what Neese must be thinking. Namely, that he had made a mistake. A big mistake.

But no sooner did this thought occur to him then the image of Ransom before his eyes, a rage-propelled force of nature, went black. And so did everything else for poor Neese. Four blaster bolts—two each from an SSK-7 and Model 434 heavy blaster, respectively—impacted the Rodian from behind. There was a burst of light and sound, and Ransom would find himself charging directly through where the Rodian had stood only a moment before. Only now, Ransom's body was covered in the misty green pulp that was all that remained of Neese, other than his boots, his blaster, and a few strips of charred flesh on the pavement.

Wow, thought Salas. Who knew that Rodians were so damn combustible?

As the acrid smoke cleared, Ransom would see the Sky Judge, his blasters pointed in the air and cape blowing in the wind. Ivok seemed to forget his pain, as he looked incredulously from one man to the other. Salas holstered the blaster pistols and, with one hand, reached up to unfasten the mask and remove it from his face...

Warron Salas
"The Sky Judge"

Bounty Hunter
Rogue Sector Ranger (rumored)

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 2:45 AM | Message # 10

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... revealing none other than Aaron Rawls.

He took a deep breath of fresh air and wiped the sweat from his brow as he surveyed the mess in the street. "Leroy Ransom," he said, "What would you do without me?"

Aaron Rawls
Captain of the Aphelion, sort of

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 3:04 AM | Message # 11

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He threw all of his body weight into the punch as it connected with Neese’s face. He did not want to hit him. He wanted his fist to bludgeon its way through his skull. While physically impossible, it was often that when Ransom committed to something, the thought and intent was outside the realm of the physically possible with which reality was able to achieve a middle ground.

Although it seemed that for once Leroy Ransom had reigned supreme over reality, in fact his soul-shattering punch would never hit its target as Neese quite literally blew up in his face. Kneeled down and back turned to where Neese once stood, it took only a second for Ransom to process what had just happened to Neese. He slowly stood and turned as Rawls revealed himself from the disguise the bounty hunter known as Sky Judge who had heard so much about recently, dripping with the remains of Neese. He just as slowly pulled a WESTAR-34 into his right hand and trained it onto Rawls, the remains of Neese causing an immediate sticky feeling to be felt between his hand and the grip of the weapons.

“I don’t know, I seem to have figured it out over the years…,” he said.

One would have expected it to be a sarcastic comment, maybe even meant as a joke. The cold, emotionless tone rich with his hybrid accent made it very clear that it was neither a joke nor sarcasm coming from his mouth. The rage that he felt at once lessened and increased in a very different way. The fire that was once at his neck and ears had now come to reside in his chest. He felt his breathing increase as it felt as if a ronto had sat down on his chest. A new kind of rage, which he never thought he would face down, now broiled within Leroy Ransom. A rage which caused every muscle in his body to tighten, including those now firmly pressed into the grip of the blaster pistol in his hand.

Lafayette "Leroy" Ransom
Bounty Hunter, Mercenary

Message edited by Lafayette_Ransom - Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 3:05 AM

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 3:46 AM | Message # 12

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If Rawls was intimidated, he didn't show it. There was a time when he might have, but that time had long since past—if not in the rancor pits of Nar Kreeta, than in any of the many other unpleasant places and predicaments Rawls had found himself in over the past several months. Ransom, to be sure, was a dangerous man. But Rawls wasn't afraid of him because he was no longer afraid of death, having learned that he had no more a right to life than anyone else in Hutt Space.

But although he would fight Ransom if he had to, and to the death if need be, it's not what he wanted to do and nor why he'd come here. Though he'd never find the words to explain it, least of all to himself, Rawls knew that Ransom, Davon and the rest were his only chance at redemption. It wasn't just about a stolen ship, or his pride, and not even necessarily about making things the way they used to be. Rather, it was about making things right. What he had done to Ransom had been wrong—Rawls fully appreciated this, having since been kicked off the Aphelion himself. And he knew, as with Davon, that he hadn't done anything to deserve Ransom's forgiveness. But nor could he, if Ransom didn't give him the chance to.

Not that any of this would matter if one of them shot the other right here in the street.

Rawls, with a hand resting on the grip of his SSK-7 still holstered at his hip, took a step closer to Ransom. Then another, and another. "The way I remember it," he said, "You were paid in full, the last time we saw each other. So I figure any other reason you got to be mad at me—and I can't say I blame you, man—it ain't no call for a WESTAR." He took another step closer, now entirely within what Ransom had once referred to as his 'murder zone,' close enough to see the carbon scoring on the barrel of the WESTAR. For a long, tense moment, his hand lingered on the grip of his SSK...

... then let go. Instead, he extended his hand to Ikov. "You okay, kid?" he asked, "Come on, I'll help you up."

Aaron Rawls
Captain of the Aphelion, sort of

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 6:00 PM | Message # 13

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"Ikov, go tell the others that everything is okay," he said as the child took Rawl's offered hand and returned to his feet. A simple nod came from him as he ran off, clutching his side.

After some hesitation, and once Rawls took his hands off of his weapons, he holstered his. It took a few minutes longer, during which he stared down Rawls, before he took his hands off of the grips of the blasters and placed them on his hips. He proceeded to spit out the green remnants of Neese that ended up in his mouth, and began pacing while keeping Rawls within the melee distance he termed the 'murder zone'.

"You know, for years I've been wondering what I would do should this day come. For a long time, turning you in for the bounty seemed like proper justice..."

He stopped to stare down Rawls again.

"Then I thought maybe icing you would be better," he said, which he followed with a clicking sound from his mouth.

"And here you stand before me, having watched my back and killed the first of likely many bounty hunters to come after me."

He hung his head now, taking one hand off his waist for a moment to run it across his bald head before returning it.

"It wasn't the pay that I was interested in, Rawls. It wasn't the work. You opened my eyes. You showed me that a crew can be more than work mates. You showed me that a crew could be a family. I finally found a real home with people I could trust for the first time in my life. And then you went and stabbed all of us in the back and left us for dead for a piece of fracking tail. So what the hell do you want and why are you here? If it's to look out for me, I damn well don't need your help," he said, anger rising and coming through his voice like waves crashing against a beach.

Lafayette "Leroy" Ransom
Bounty Hunter, Mercenary

Date: Monday, 20 Jul 2015, 11:06 PM | Message # 14

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"'Left you for dead'?" Rawls said, the muscles in his jaw tightening indignantly. "You have no idea, Ransom. No idea..."

A part of Rawls was tired of hearing this. He was as much of a victim as Ransom and the rest, dammit. If not more so, considering what he'd been through. 'Left them for dead'? Hardly! But he also knew that what had happened to Ransom, Davon and the rest, and to himself, was almost entirely his fault. He reminded himself that he had no right to be petulant, as he listened to what Ransom had to say.

Until now, Rawls had felt the worst for having done what he did to Davon and Mara, not suspecting that Ransom had felt just as strongly about it as they did. Perhaps he'd misjudged Ransom all along; this was certainly a more adroit side to the man than ever Rawls had seen before, but then he supposed all of them had changed as a result of what had happened. This Leroy Ransom certainly wasn't the endearingly trigger-happy goof that Rawls had known previously (although trigger-happy he still was, it was decidedly less endearing from the other side of the blaster).

Rawls remained where he stood as Ransom paced around him. "'A ship can be a home,' and 'a crew can be a family'—I get it now, Ransom. But I didn't then. Neither did you, Davon, or anyone else. You don't appreciate what you have until it's gone, and I get that now because it happened to me too, all right?" He sighed, his shoulders slumping as if tired of having to tell the story again. But he did. Rawls explained in exasperated detail how Sena had used him to get rid of them all and steal the Aphelion out from under him, playing on his desire for a family. He explained Bask, Nar Kreeta, the Sky Judge.

When Rawls was done, he shrugged. "Look, it's not going to make any difference to hear me say I'm sorry. 'Aaron Rawls was wrong'! It happens, all right? Especially when a Zeltron plies me with pheromones, for Force sake. The point, Ransom, is this—I didn't come here to fight you. I came to make things right. For you, Davon, Mara, if Davon can find her..."

Aaron Rawls
Captain of the Aphelion, sort of