The Rebel Queen - Poe Dameron

Chapter VIII: Cicatrized

Banden

The smell of spice and hooch filled his senses as Banden left the lower quarters of his gambling establishment. The merry laughs and slurred words of his regulars were becoming too loud for his busy mind to sift through.

Emory, his tough-skinned head of security led the way back to his offices. It wasn't a necessity for her to be by his side, but with Maligma loosening the ties around her militia, violence between thug and lawman had increased exponentially. Emory was there as a scare tactic and because she worried too much for a ruffian. Underneath that heavily tattooed face of hers was a woman who took pride in her job, even if it entailed handling the security detail of a highly detested mobster in the eyes of the law. She saw him the same way the people saw him and they sung a different tune. They all painted him up to be an everyman kind of man. That sort of praise had its benefits –for one, it kept his business running while the civil war marched on in the background.

There was a snippet of truth to that version of him, that everyman's man. At least he tried to keep that version of himself alive for as long as possible.

Banden's droid, Cory, shuffled into his office unannounced once Emory made her exit. The annoying grind of its joints pestered Banden's ears.

"What is it, Cory?"

The droid went stiff and then retrieved a data chip from one of its hidden compartments, "The intel you requested on the new CIC of the Garrison, boss."

Banden sighed and then waved the droid over, hand outstretched expectantly.

Cory dropped the data chip and shuffled back out of the stuffy office.

When he was alone again, Banden stared at the little chip for a long while, pondering whether he should poke this particular rancor. For some reason, the tattoo on his chest began to itch but he refrained from scratching. He knew it was psychosomatic. Just a ghost letting him know he wasn't alone, even in the seclusion of his locked office.

A beeping noise disturbed his train of thought. Thankful for the interruption, he glanced over at the transmission call signal and grinned. He accepted the transmission with enthusiasm.

"Well, well. I must say, princess, being a fugitive becomes you," he said.

Calista huffed, lacing her hands together in an attempt to keep her wits about her. Banden had gotten under her skin before she'd had the chance to speak. This was good. This meant there was a string attached to this call.

"Murray," she said dryly, glaring with murderous intent.

The way her eyes narrowed and her cheeks were sucked in, Banden saw a bit of Maligma in her features.

He reached for his pipe and lit it, "What can I do for you?"

Koa

Koa was shocked to consciousness by a jolt travelling from her fingers to her brain. She couldn't move or speak or open her eyes right away, but she could hear. By the animated sounds of a debate being had in her room, she wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse just yet.

"I'm telling you, Kashmyre Düne would be able to take on Boba Fett any day of the week. I'd be willing to bet my last credit on it," a bright voice spoke in exasperation.

Is that Zeeke? She wondered.

Faster than a pod-racer, argumentative Jawaese shot off in reply.

That's obviously Ton-Ton.

"Sure Boba Fett wasn't a joke but he still wasn't anything special. Düne was a member of the Death Watch! He lived on Ankhural, that place is no paradise. Trust me, he's the better merc." The words were spoken with admiration, as though Düne was some sort of childhood idol.