Lang Syne [Open]

[Myn Corstar]

This is it boys. Get ready! The voice echoed through the back of Myn's head. It felt oddly faint. The rush of battle wasn't giving him the adrenaline it normally did.

Let's give some of those blue skinned scumbags hell! The voice belonged to Thrandrils. That man was dead.

Myn shook his head trying to clear it.

Come on Corstar, get your butt in gear! A man shoved Myn from behind, pushing him towards the opening into the light. He fell through without meaning to, engaging his pack on instinct and training more than on active thought.

Then he remembered.

They all died.

He looked to his right and watched Captain Odom plummet by, his torso a vaporised mash of flesh and metal. The Mercenary was stretched stiff as he fell in a slow tumble. Myn looked to his left and watched the Sargent lose a wing to anti aircraft fire. His jetpack span him out of control, colliding him with a shuttle that was going towards the surface. The shuttle exploded in a red ball of flame as the remains of the older Corellian were sucked into the turbo-shafts.

Myn looked down, not able to stand it all. He engaged his thrusters and aimed almost directly at the ground. A pop sounded on his com system and another IFF transponder winked out. A warning light flashed on and flashed off again as the armor began to glow a bright red color as it descended through the atmosphere much faster than it was intended to.

Jacobs flew in at a higher decent angle, passing Corstar on the way down. A laser turret fired twice, taking the pack off the man's body. Myn dove to rescue his friend.

Pull up! Jacob's voice yelled. Echos reverberated through Myn's mind.

I can make it. Myn replied over the com. They weren't conscious words that he had issued purposely. Myn didn't think anything of it.

We're descending too fast! Pull up you idiot! PULL UP

Myn grabbed his friend's hand and pulled up with the controls. He felt another pop in the armor system and a burning pain as shrapnel from an anti aircraft cannon ripped through Jacobs and into the Echani Mercenary.

Myn heard a distinct ringing as he fell towards the ground. Before the light faded, he realized it was his own screaming.

-----

"WAKE UP."

Myn lifted his head from the bartable and instantly grimaced. The right side of his helmet was covered in a brownish muck. He looked at the man addressing him. It took a moment to register that he was the bartender.

"If you're going to sleep, you can do it outside. I have other customers..."

Myn dropped a fifty credit chit on the table and pushed it towards the man. "Corellian ale. And your silence."

The creditchit disappeared as if it was a magician's act. The bartender soon followed suit.

Myn surveyed the bar yet once more. He hadn't slept since he had left Jabiim. He hadn't slept on that planet either. He looked down at his armor system, his weapons were still maglocked in place. The jawas had definately done their best at defeating it. A series of tools lay about the table and floor.

As the bartender came back, he left the drink and stood expectantly. Myn rolled his eyes and gave him another five credits before taking off his helmet. The man took the credits and left.

"I hope the bounty hunter's guild hasn't fallen that far from the public eye." Myn muttered. He had sent a message to the guild about his return. He wasn't sure if it had made it or not, but he was hoping for both information and a temporary job. He definitely hadn't come to the wrong place.

[Cyberguy]

There was a certain design to the grand spaceports of Tatooine. Is was almost as if the architects had a perfect sense of rythym. It was always Hangar, Cantina, Hangar, Cantina, Hangar, Cantina...

The Force knew these were the only two buildings that truly mattered to the common spacer, and those interested in hunting, whether it be bounties or wraids, could find their offices as close to the walls as possible. It was a matter of aesthetics, if there was such a thing in this sandy wasteland.

But, indeed, it was this fact that hangars and cantinas were so easily accessed that accounted for the latest drunkard who stumbled into this particular cantina. In fact, he had been kicked out of the cantina across the way, and chose himself to enter this one.

He was an odd fellow, made even more abnormal by his location. People on Tatooine usually dressed in one of Five ways: Miner, Hunter, Bounty Hunter, Spacer, or Farmer. This man, however, did not dress as any of them. In fact, the clothes he wore, were they not torn, tattered, sand-encrusted, and somewhat dampened with spilt alchohol, might have belonged to some great military commander, perhaps even a noble. Though, on Tatooine, the closest thing to a Noble was anybody with enough money to leave the planet. Which, of course, they always did.

The man slowly made his way to the bar, somehow managing to crash into the same table twice along his way. By the time he made it there, he found himself incredibly exhausted. He decided that he must just be thirsty, so he threw a few credits down on the counter and ordered himself a drink.

"Ssarlaccc, Kickersh... pleash."

He said, removing his jacket and in the prcoess revealing a rather faded insignia of ten lines converging at a large 'N', the wel-known symbol of The Network, taking his seat at the bar near Myn.

[Myn Corstar]

Nice target Myn thought to himself as he looked at the newcomer out of the corner of his eye. He took a sip of the ale and made a face. It tasted like...

Myn looked across the bar and decided specifically against thinking about it. He poured a little of it on the tabletop and watched it sizzle as there was a slight chemical reaction between the drink and the tabletop.

"I don't suppose you actually have anything worth drinking here...or would that be too much to ask?" Myn looked up at the bartender, pointing at the sizzling puddle.

[Cyberguy]

The man turned and began, rather awkwardly, staring at Myn. Though, in truth, there wasn't any way to tell exactly what he was looking at, so glazed was his expression. When his drink came, he looked upon it as one might look at a million credits, and greedily clutched it with two hands and gulped it down so fast that it appeared as if the glass had always been empty.

From there, he turned back to the only other person at the bar and watched drunkenly.

[Regnier]

A young Korunnai woman seated herself a stool away from the armored figure. Though it wasn't exactly saying much, her fair looks seemed incredibly out of place in the seedy cantina. She knew that armor like she knew herself, just not the wearer. It could of been a number of individuals from what she knew. She turned and smirked at his question. "Look like you've travelled the star-lanes enough to know the answer to that question, you." She said, the Korunnai accent faintly lacing the voice off and on. In a deft movement most would never have noticed, or at least mistaken for something else, she pressed a finger into the earpiece in the ear opposite the armored figure as she brushed her shoulder-length hair back. It sent a single click over a private channel. She leaned forward and fixed the drunk with an almost amused expression. "Looks like you found a friend."

In the back of the cantina, hidden within the shadows, a like-armored figure sat in a booth, watching carefully. The wearer had been in such a blank state that he hadn't noticed his surroundings. Then the click brought him to the present, and his attention focused on the bar. An IFF tag that hadn't been active for many years blinked on as he scanned the JS-24 suit at the bar. As the man had been replaced, he was no longer tagged as Lightning One. but rather by one simple word: Corstar. No Lightning had seen the former leader of the squad since his departure, or at least while Lightning Six had been a Mandalorian, anyways. "I see him, Kel. Suit reg belongs to Myn Corstar. I believe I've told you about him before. Since it's not possible for anybody else to wear these things, that's him."

The Korunnai waved the bartender over, a movement that moved her leather hide jacket enough out of the way to reveal the Verpine Shatter pistol under her shoulder, and ordered a Flameout. "So, I finally get to meet one of my brother-in-law's esteemed squadmates, the Echani. He's said quite a few things about you, Lieutenant Corstar. I believe it's just Corstar know, isn't it, though?" She said in a tone devoid of smugness. Almost, anyways.

[Myn Corstar]

"I resigned my commission a long time ago." Myn turned slowly and looked at the woman. "The drunk is trying to decide if he should jump me as I'm wasting a perfectly good drink."

Myn pushed the remains of the glass in the man's direction, not turning to look what happened.

"So who in Crimson Moon were you unlucky enough marry?"

[Regnier]

“Hnh. Perfectly good drink is a matter of opinion. My brother would probably drink it, though.” The Korunnai muttered. She pulled a small flask from a pocket in her jacket and slid it towards Myn as she accepted her own drink with a credit chit. ”Here, try this instead. Real Corellian ale.”

The bartender scowled at her from across the bar, but she ignored him. She snorted at his last question. “Not that unlucky, me. My fool sister did that, and now I’m stuck with the lug as a relative. I think you should remember him. Big guy, not really one to make friends, likes guns that kill tanks, used to be Lightning Six. Oh yes, and Mandalorian. If you can’t remember his name, go ask him yourself. Hiding in the back, him, plotting on how to get us enough fuel to make a better planet than this sand-pit.”

”And it’s coming along terribly, I might add. Either we hunt wraid for the next month, or we try and find a krayt dragon. That, or we could work as protection for a local mining corp for the next year.” Sounded a growled voice over her earpiece. "I'll be joining you after I finish telling this potential 'client' the extent of his mental short-comings."

”And he’s grousing about it, too. Never was much of a people person.”