Jedi Insurgency 155

Piloting an invisible Millennium Falcon just outside Mos Espa, Corvus telekinetically pushed aside some sand, and then buried his ship. Familiar with the trope of ‘bad guys boarding the hero's ship while he's away’ he wasn't going to do something stupid like leave the Falcon parked in a space port or some garage. 

Spamming [Force Push] several times had done the trick, and kicked up a minor duststorm, further occluding the area. 

Stretching his arms and back after the exertion, Corvus shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked out at the endless expanse of hot, dry desert. The air shimmered, and he watched as some alien looking insect was eaten by a passing bird. Twin suns bore down on his cloaked form, and for once, he wished he had some ability to modulate his temperature. Actually, that would be a novel method to kill a Jedi. Trap them on a space station, and increase the heat! Of course, it would be much simpler to blow the station up, or vent it to space, but that's why it would be novel!...

“Okay, the heat is already getting to me.” Corvus shook his head, and sighed. 

Thankfully, his Constitution stat wasn't that bad, and the heat wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been. Casting [Valor] to improve his own morale, he then donned one of the oni-style masks taken from the hidden Jedi Shadow base on Coruscant. Although he intended to spend the majority of his time on this dustball cloaked in invisibility, that didn't mean he wanted to reveal himself as either Revan or Bond. Using his ISB records, he had registered this identity as a Bounty Hunter. If a droid or some scanner searched a database, they would find that he was a somewhat successful hunter. His alias was the uninspired: Oni. 

Pulling his robe tight, and casting [Speed], Corvus ran a few miles towards Mos Espa, the jewel of Tatooine. Although jewel was really a stretch when it came to describing this hellhole. Roads made of dirt, buildings no grander than circular huts lined every corner, and bleached/rusted speeders were for the middle class, whilst the poorest residents rode on beasts of burden. This city was extremely lacking in color, as any paint would eventually fade away due to dust storms. 

Most of Mos Espa was located in a deep valley, surrounded by cliffs, but space was limited, and many circular beige colored houses formed suburbs past the cliffs. In general, the architecture was what one might think of, when imagining ancient Baghdad or those Mesopotamian empires. Running through town at a speed consistent with a speeder, Corvus had considered ditching the thought about purchasing a speeder altogether, but his tracks in the sand were slightly conspicuous. Furthermore, Jabba's Palace was about 50 miles out from the city. Although he could run that, it would not be fun. Unfortunately, he wasn't as fast as Plagueis. One of the Dark Lord's most impressive feats, was running across an entire continent in a single afternoon whilst on Vald Demnic. He could only wish he was that fast! 

Keeping that thought in mind, Corvus was looking for a shop for a speeder whilst checking his map. Finally finding one, he invisibly ran to the store. Before he walked in, he noticed a bustling cantina next door, where dozens of people were lined up to enter. Glancing at the speeder shop, he decided to grab a refreshment to quench his thirst before jumping Jabba. Although he was on Tatooine for a mission, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the sights, right? Besides, he had to get the salt from somewhere! 

Dropping his camouflage in a secluded alleyway, Corvus waved his hand at a bouncer who was only letting people in if they looked a certain way, or bribed him. 

‘You've already been paid.’ 

“Go right ahead.” The man gruffly remarked, and pressed a button, opening the door. 

Corvus smirked to himself, he'd never get tired of abusing [Mind Trick]. 

Stepping through the sand-scuffed doorway of the Mos Espa cantina, he passed through a second door that blasted a jet of cool, refreshing air upon him. 

The interior was a riot of color and noise. People were dancing, laughing, and cussing at one another. Their clothes were of better quality than the rags most civilians in these parts wore, indicating that this was a club for the well-to-do. Open and wide, the venue was three stories tall, and had many different service counters. 

Within the main chamber, the domed ceiling was rife with neon lights that pointed towards various stalls. Booths sold any kind of drug one could imagine, whilst others sold pleasure. Glancing around, looking for a place where he could get a drink, Corvus saw holographic displays shimmering overhead, cycling between live Gravball matches and the day’s podracing highlights. Each time a racer made a daring pass or a Gravball striker slammed into a goal marker, the room erupted in cheers, groans, or drunken laughter.

Crowds packed every table and booth. A trio of Twi’leks-two blue, one green-leaned close over a gambling table, their lekku twitched with excitement as colored holo-dice tumbled and chimed. A cluster of Bith musicians tuned their instruments in a shadowed corner, producing warm, reedy notes that threaded through the club. Rodians argued animatedly over a stack of credit chips, gesturing with long, tapered fingers while a nearby Weequay cackled and accused them of cheating.

Zabraks with sharp-edged tattoos nursed tall drinks at the bar, their horns glinting beneath the shifting lights. An Ithorian lumbered gently between tables carrying a tray of fizzing beverages, his dual mouths murmuring polite apologies whenever he bumped a patron, the deep voice was then translated by a neckpiece into Basic.

Farther back, a pair of Togrutans debated the outcome of a recent podrace, their voices nearly drowned out by the roar of a Gravball play-by-play blasting from a massive screen.

The smell hit Corvus with the piercing intensity of a boy's lockerroom. Like an overly depressed can of axe bodyspray, these multitude of aliens pressed together, with their own unique pheromones, sweat glands, and musk produced a unique atmosphere. When he imagined this galaxy far far away as a boy, he never in his wildest imagination thought that the smell would be the most unbelievable thing!

Furthermore, the unmistakable, pungent sweetness of Spice drifted from a side alcove. Within the shaded locale, a pair of Humans were zonked out of their minds, staring at the ceiling in blissful ignorance. While no one was watching, Corvus waved his hand, casting [Heal] on the duo, curing them of this poison. Waking from their stupor, and quite irate, Corvus approached them with a pair of stimulants. Crafted from a workbench, they were theoretically without side effect, but he figured he could at least hold a little experiment. 

What he had deposited were [Adrenal Alacrity] x2. In game text, they boosted Dex by +4, and movement speed by 20%! That was pretty fricking good! A change in 4 Dex was quite substantial. When he woke up on Coruscant over five months ago, he had something like 12 Dex, if he had had 16 from the start, those clone troopers would have been much easier to deal with. 

“10 wupiupi.” Corvus demanded. 

One of the people in the alcove slapped down some of the local currency unique to Hutt Space, and then took the syringe. Without another thought, he plunged it into his arm. The guy in the alcove looked like he was in his 60's, who knew if he was younger by a decade, or had lived like this his entire life? 

Corvus sighed at the sight, it was unfortunate people were like this, but that was why controlling the drug trade was so important to him. He wasn't some moral authority who wanted to force religious dogma onto people, but to surrender oneself to Spice was no way to live. There would always be people who sought that quick fix, so he figured it would be better to introduce a less harmful substitute, and control the flow of Spice in the galaxy. 

Observing the older man begin to become hyperactive, yet also 100% cognitively aware. Corvus nodded, pleased that the drug had taken effect. This time, when he cast [Heal], the man did not return to normal, indicating that the [Adrenal Alacrity] was seen as a net positive by the System. Although, interestingly, due to his enhanced comprehension of [Heal], he felt that if he concentrated, he could purge the drug from his body. That would be an interesting experiment, but could wait for another day. He still had to get that drink! 

Leaving the alcove, gambling machines whirled incessantly, and the drowning chorus of laughter, arguments, and the smooth pulse of the band polluted the scene with a cacophony of noise. Light bounced off polished metal tables and scuffed armor plates, reflecting off his oni mask as he navigated the crowds.

The atmosphere was alive, boisterous, unruly, and humming with energy. A hundred conversations layered atop one another, each one its own story, its own danger, its own secret. Corvus paused in his step just long enough to take it all in. 

Humans, aliens, crazy music, and people enjoying life. It was all so surreal. His experience in Star Wars thus far had been subterfuge, murder, and threats. Naboo had been fun, with the peacefulness of Theed, and the party in Otoh Gunga. But those places had been monocultural. Theed was like an artist's paradise, full of beautiful sculptures, paintings, and pretentious creators gossiping, and trying to out do one another. Otoh Gunga meanwhile had an aquatic charm, but the Gungan people were somewhat off putting with the way they ate, those long tongues…but here in Tatooine, where aliens of all types were gathered, this was the ‘real world’ of Star Wars. Quintillions of intelligent lifeforms called the galaxy home, and what he saw in this three-story room was but a taste of what was to come. 

It had been five months since his arrival, and he had only visited seven worlds. One of these days-when peace had been achieved-he'd swing on vines at Kashyyyk, sled down mountains on Hoth, and, witness a Bespin sunset while flying through the clouds! 

Smiling with boyish glee, Corvus finally came across a bar, and ordered a cool glass of blue milk. Personally, he thought the stuff looked gross, but maybe it tasted better than cow milk? 

Taking a deep sip, he found the taste to be creamier, and sweeter than what he could get on Earth. 

Leaning his back against the bar, he let out a comfortable burp, and enjoyed the atmosphere. 

Of course, that comfortable atmosphere abruptly ended when all of the screens on display began to show a slave auction that was underway. 

Chugging his drink, he slammed the glass on the table, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and stood up with purpose in his gait. 

“New to Tatooine, hmm.” A blue skinned alien who had been sitting next to him said. 

Corvus saw the hint of red eyes beneath a rimmed cowboy hat, and determined the alien was a Duros, possibly even a Chiss, although that second guess was unlikely. 

“You could tell?” Corvus asked, pausing in his step. 

The man held up a scanner, and the image of Oni popped up. 

“Didn't figure someone with your rap-sheet to be so soft.” The man inclined his head towards the screens. “Of course, that isn't so surprising when yours is fake.” 

Corvus, for the first time since he entered this establishment, felt a sense of danger. Looking at this alien from Pause, he began to speculate as to his identity. 

“Where did I go wrong?” Corvus questioned. 

“No captures, every mission is KIA, or the result of item recovery.” 

“Most wouldn't notice this. I'll let my handlers in the ISB know. Thank you for your time, Mr. Bane.” Corvus airily replied, intending to leave. 

“Clever, clever. Hiding yourself in the government, that's smart. But the way you reach towards your inner robe, that isn't how someone reaches for a blaster, no. That posture is peculiar, useful only for reaching for one thing. Isn't that right, Mr. Jedi?” Bane teased. 

Within less than a second, a blaster bolt-from less than 5 feet away-was speeding at the back of Corvus’s head. 

The act was so sudden, and off the cuff, that even his precognition didn't sense this attack until a microsecond before it occurred! Ordinarily, a Jedi could predict danger, but if the assailant didn't truly intend harm, then there was nothing to sense! Cad Bane, the best bounty hunter alive in this current era-the man who had dueled Kenobi & Quinlan Vos with a lightsaber, and lived-was the one who had fired that bolt! This blue skinned alien was so clever, and had been in the game so long, he had attacked precisely where a Force user was at their weakest! 

From Pause, Corvus knew he couldn't whirl around in time to deflect the shot. Not only that, but five more bolts were already heading towards/around him, cutting off any avenue of escape! Cad Bane must have truly generational talent, a minor degree of Force Sensitivity honed to a deadly level-such as the case with Han Solo-top of the line cybernetics, or all three! Because his reaction speed was on par with his own! Although [Speed IV] wasn't currently in effect, he truly wondered if the famed Bounty Hunter could keep up! 

In a deadly situation like this, where he couldn't draw his lightsaber, or evade in time, he had two options. [Shadow Hop] or [Energy Resistance]. 

Hop could be used for an ambushing decapitation strike, or escape. Meanwhile, resistance would enable a full frontal assault, or likewise, a retreat. 

Lastly, he was wearing beskar armor underneath his robes to go with the Bounty Hunter look. The mask design may have been taken from that clothes shop on Coruscant, but it had been reforged with superior materials. If he was willing to take a gamble, he could meet the blaster bolt head on. Then, he could reply by taking a blaster from his inventory, and slapping on a personal shield. 

Seeing as he didn't want to spook Jabba into possibly fleeing due to the threat of Revan being on Tatooine, he decided upon option three! 

Today, the tale of Oni would be spoken of in bars & cantinas throughout the galaxy, as slaying Cad Bane would make him a legend killer!