Re: Rogue Squadron: Rebirth

Garrett stepped out of the unmarked vehicle he was driving that they'd requisitioned before leaving base.  Or the base building, as it were, given most squadrons could actually work out of a secured top of a skyscraper before they were assigned to a fleet.  One of the unmarked vehicles.  It took three of them for the squadron.  They were in a parking garage a few blocks down from the skyline in the Corellian Sector, it looked like about what you'd expect.  As he led them toward the crowded walkways, he reminded them, "Remember guys, this place knows me as a PI.  I'd like to go back."

A whole bunch of 'yea yea's and 'whatever's came forward as he led them out into the crowds of the streets.  He'd gone home over the afternoon after the morning briefing and cleaned up, was in some clothing that didn't have the last night's meal on them.  They were on a part of the planet where it was coming into early spring and technology didn't try to control it too much, so there was a breeze, he had his trenchcoat on, covering his holdout blaster and vibroblade.  Not legal by any means, at least not these weapons.  Coruscant liked to control it if and when they could.  They liked to try anyway.  He did have weapons as a PI that were legal, but given he was contracted to the military now he could get away with it.

A block or two later they stood in front of a restaurant.  They could only see one floor and a bar.  It looked like just the entry and nothing, but there was oh so much more to the Ale Trappe and it's silver industrial wall and door.  A smirking couple walked out and the smell of beer and food wafted out with them, and Garrett grinned.  "Word to the wise," he said as he pulled open the doors.  "Avoid the liquor.  Ten times the price, one hundred times as bad.  We came for the beer."

He led them in and it wasn't the hostess that met them.  It was Mack, the manager.  He was a big man, bulky, but muscular.  Wore jeans and a t-shirt as he walked around the place for all the other servers and bartenders wore a darker uniform.  He did have the Twi'lek hostess standing next to him with quite a few menus and beer menus.  They were a classic place.  None of this electronic crap.  "Mack!" Garrett shouted.  "How are things going this side of the business?"

"Great, Garret!  Just great!"  He waved them all in.  The first floor was total industry but for where the hostess stood  and the guests waited for a table.  The rest was total brewery, and there was a lot of it.  Enough to brew sixteen beers for the restaurant year round, and even sell to go.  The man knew what he was doing.  Then he took the three floors above the brewery that weren't walled off for ventilation, and made it the restaurant.  "Right this way!" he waved.

They could only follow.  He took them up to the fourth floor, out of five.  The feel of industry disappeared after the first, and it turned to classic restaurant and bar.  Every other floor had its own bar.  That gave them a bar they could walk up to when they wanted to easily.  The second and fourth floors were always in high demand here.  A few minutes of the hostess seating everyone and giving them their menus, and Mack nodded her off.  "I'm sure Garrett did an utterly horrible job explaining this, so I'll do this right," he said with a smile.  "Open your beer menus you see sixteen on tap, that's what we brew.  Twelve year round, four seasonal.  We take in another sixty bottled from around the planet and galaxy.  Don't buy the liquor.  It's horrible, horribly cheap, and sold horribly expensive by my design.  People complained too much when I didn't have it so I figured I'd rip them off and get them to shut up at the same time.  I'm here to sell the beer and the food."  Everybody chuckled for a minute and then he continued, "Your server will be here in just a minute.  Enjoy the night, especially if it's on this idiot's dime."

"How'd you meet this guy Garrett?" Spice asked.

"Would you believe me if I told you there was a brewing competition on Coruscant?"

"Really?!" another pilot demanded to know.

Garrett turned toward the bar and gestured, "Really."  There was a plaque hanging on the wall for first place from the planetary competition a few years before.  "Someone tried to steal his brew a few years ago, he called me."  Garrett flipped his neighbor's beer menu open and pointed at one of the seasonals, Six Hearted Ale, as the server walked up.  "There you go, give it a try."

Re: Rogue Squadron: Rebirth

“There you go, give it a try”
Tyanni’s nose wrinkled.  Her well poised demeanor took hold almost instantly though, and she replied “I’m sure it’s a lovely vintage, but I’m afraid that it won’t agree with my palette.”  She said as sweetly as possible.  “Do they perhaps have any Bespin Sparkle?”

The dumbstruck look on Garrett ‘s face clearly showed him wondering if Tyanni had been listening to anything he or Mack had said.  Blinking a few times, and rubbing his eyes, he just took Tyanni’s menu and said, “I’ll get you a Halia, should be close enough for you.”

“No that’s alright…” Tyanni started to say before Cayenne interjected “Oh come on princess, slum it a little would ya.  I’ll take that six hearted ale Garrett”

Tyanni gave Cayenne a slight glance of disapproval, but let the transgression slide; not wanting to sour the evening.  She made a silent pact to herself that she would make the undoubtedly vile drink last all evening.   Corran and Mischa ordered  Correlian spiced ale, while Corbin went for a strong Hutt variety.  Adok ordered a Rodian ale, Morgan had a hankering for a Thuris Stout, while Mela ordered the exotic Vinta Harvest Ale.  

“Still full of surprises Mela.” Marcus commented.

Mela smirked at Marcus , “This is nothing, remind me to tell you about the time I tried Circuit Cider on a dare.”

“I’ll do that.” Marcus said as he folded his menu, and said to the waitress “Give me the closest beer you have to Ithorian Mist flavor wise. “

“I’ll tell Mike that we have a challenge.  Your orders will be up in a few minutes.” The waitress started to back away when Corran stopped her and ordered one of every appetizer for the table.  The pilots were thrilled by the generous gesture of their CO. Corran raised his hands and said “I don’t know what you’re all excited about, I’m just really hungry.” This led to a few chuckles, and more than a few napkins thrown at him.

“Alright alright, I’ll share” Corran managed in between chuckles and pretending to guard himself from the onslaught.  

The rest of the table was still laughing when Garrett turned to Marcus and said “Ithorian Mist, what put you in the mood for that?”

Marcus shrugged, “Just want a taste of home, been a long time since I was there.”

This caught the attention of Cayenne, and she asked “Wait, hold on, you’re from Ithor?  Forgive me, but your head is remarkably round.”

“Yeah…” Marcus got real sullen.  “I was experiemented on, and made to look human…”  The table went silent.  “Or I was adopted as a baby, geez you guys are gullible” he added with a big grin.  A chorus of groans erupted as the drinks arrived.

Misha stood and raised her glass, “I’ll take Marcus’ bad joke as my cue.  I’ve been with many squadrons.   Anybody, especially my Womprat brothers and sisters, can tell you that all squadrons are families.” She paused and looked around the table.  “We might put the fun in dysfunctional, but we’re family” she added, eliciting chuckles from the rest of the Rogues.  “As family, just know that my door is always open…To the members of the new Rogue Squadron!” she finished by raising her glass high, a gesture which the table echoed “TO THE NEW ROGUE SQUADRON!”.

As Mischa sat back down with a smile, Corbin added “Thanks Mom” with a grin.   Marcus laughed as he tasted his beer.  He didn’t know how, but they had managed a honey like flavor without being too heavy.  He would have to give his compliments to Mike.  

“Ok ok, I can definitely top that,” Adok said breaking Marcus out of his reverie, and pointing at his left flask.  “Got stabbed with a vibroknife on leave once.  Had to be in a bacta tank for 4 days.”

Marcus just chuckled at the all too familiar occurrence.  Get more then two military people together and eventually the battle scar stories start flying.  Marcus rarely participated, mainly because he generally won.

“That is nothing!”  Cayenne said as the food arrived.   “Once a blaster bolt grazed my skull so close that it burned hair off.  Now that one strand grows curly.”

Adok  crossed his arms “Really?  You’re going with curly strand of hair?”

“Really!” Cayenne said indignantly.  “Least bacta healed your injury, I have to live with my deformity daily.”

The table erupted into chuckles as Cha-Cha added “Oh go ahead laugh, you don’t have to hear her complain about it all the time.”  And rolled her eyes.

“It can’t be that bad…you should just straighten your hair if you don’t like it.” Tyanni said in a helpful tone.
The chuckles stopped

“Uh huh, and what is your best story princess?  Stubbing your toe on the way to the ball?” Cayenne said dryly.

Tyanni just scoffed and replied with a mock “Oh you got me. Ha ha.”

“I know someone who has you all beat” Corran said looking down at his glass.  The table gave him their attention, and he looked up from his beer.

“Who’s that captain?  You?” Corbin asked

Corran scoffed. “Please, Cayenne’s hair story beat anything I had” he said shoving some barbequed mynock in his mouth.  “No…well you know, I don’t think I could do it justice.  How bout you tell them Marcus?”

Marcus exhaled deeply, “Ok, I’ll play” Marcus said.  “My worst injury was when Corran broke my nose. “

The other members of Rogue Squadron turned to Corran for any kind of reaction.   Corran merely shrugged, speared another piece of mynock on his fork and said “Well you deserved it” before eating it.

“It’s true I did, but that was definitely my worst.” Marcus said adjusting his goggles.

Mela nudged Marcus and gave him a sidelong glance.  She had helped him recover from the worst injury, and knew very well that it wasn’t cause by Corran’s fist, but by a lightsaber blade on Vjun.

“Eh, I don’t buy it.” Corbin said gesturing to Marcus with his glass, “There’s gotta be a better story to explain those peepers of yours.”  Cayenne punched Corbin in the shoulder and gave him a look.

“Actually…I was a tad curious about that as well.” Tyanni admitted.

“Come to think of it Marcus, I don’t know that one either.” Corran added.

“So Marcus, what do you say, care to share?” Mischa asked as she tossed a popper into her mouth.

If they had been able to see his eyes, Marcus’ squadron mates would have seen them close in thought.  He hadn’t talked about his eyes since it happens almost 10 years ago, always saying, “It was a long story.” Looking around at the faces of his new teammates Marcus decided to make the most of this second chance with the Rogue’s, and confide in them his lowest moment.  After taking a large swig of his beer he began.
“The three years after I left the Imperial Academy were the worst of my life.  I had graduated with honors as a squad leader, been awarded the imperial medal of honor, but due to some bad judgment calls…I was sentenced if you will to serve under Commander Dixx.  Dixx had been an instructor at the academy until he was demoted to commanding a transport ship that was ironically named Haven.  From my first day as Dixx’s XO he gave me 10 times the work, no respect from himself or the crew, drills in the middle of the night that no one showed up for except me, and no leave.  It was due to Dixx’s hatred of what he considered special treatment that I’d been given at the academy and a particular associate of mine.  Those three years were basically hell and I took it.  I did all the work and I didn’t complain a word.  Dixx was trying to break me, trying to get me court-martialed for some minor offense.  He never understood that I was already kicking myself harder then he ever could for the decisions I’d made.  I deserved it, at least that’s what I told myself.  

Then one day an old friend came calling.  General Veers found me again at a supply depot on Coruscant by pure happenstance.  He remembered me, that happens when you save someone’s life I guess, and he took me to lunch.  When asked about my assignment, I didn’t complain, but I told the truth.  The general was utterly disgusted with the situation especially considering my credentials, even if I had associated with a known traitor.  Veers promised he would try and help me out, and low and behold he delivered with a shiny new promotion, an assignment to the Death Star as security director for B-block.  It was a big step up for me, and I was very excited.  The day Haven docked with the second Death Star I had no sleep in me.  Dixx had given me a week of double shifts in preparation for my departure to the position he didn’t think I deserved.  With five double caffs in me I went about my first shift.  It was mostly drills since the space station was still under construction, but halfway through the day there was some action.  I received a message that a rebel had been found amongst the private contractors on board.  I was to report to the cargo bay to intercept the spy.  When I got there, I found out that it was a trap, but not by rebels.  It was Dixx’s last little goodbye, a personal beating from the crew of the Haven.  I tried to fight back, but there were 10 of them, and a very tired me.  During the altercation a blaster went off, I don’t know if it was mine or someone else’s, all I know if that it punctured a tank of chemicals and blew up in my face.  That explosion was the last thing I ever saw normally.”

Marcus took another swig of his beer, and looked up to see 12 sets of eyes still staring at him.

“That’s it?” Mela asked

“Well yeah, after 6 weeks of pure blindness, an honorable discharge, and being shipped back to Ithor I woke up one morning and could see again *he lifted his goggle to show the shine on his eyes* just a little differently.

“Did the Imps bust that asshole at least?” Cayenne asked.

Marcus shook his head and answered “No, the security cameras were off, and even the message I received deleted.  He got away with it scott free, but ironically he saved my life as a month later the Death Star was destroyed by the “rebels”.  “

“You ever get him back?” Corbin asked as his finished his beer.

“Kinda…” Marcus answered vaguely.

Mischa raised an eyebrow “Kinda? You’re going to have to do better then that.  Don’t make me pulled rank on you.”

Marcus chuckled, and said “Ok, Ok, though technically you can’t pull rank on me.  I threw Dixx out the cockpit of an AT-AT on Ithor and stepped on him.”

Cha-Cha choked on her beer a little, and Corbin laughed out loud.  

“Well that beats Tyanni’s stubbed toe for sure.” Cayenne said raising her glass again.  The rest of Rogue Squadron raised their glasses.  

“…And with that I’m going to hit the head.” Marcus said getting out of the booth and started towards the restroom.  As he relieved himself he wondered if it was wise to share so much of himself.  He always liked to keep his personal life close to the chest.  Caused less problems in his experience, but he was in a melancholy mood since he’d arrived at the Rogue’s headquarters.  Too many friends lost, and not enough new ones made.  Maybe tonight would change that.  “Here’s hopin” Marcus said to himself as he walked back out towards his table.  As he walked past the bar he was able to see down to another floor of the brewery, and saw a 300 pound man with his arm twisted behind his back by a tiny blonde woman.
“No way…” Marcus said as Sam’s face came into view.

“I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry!” the man squealed in obvious pain.  

“Good…” She said as she tossed his ass to the ground and resumed her seat at the bar.

Marcus gestured for Mike, who came over after a few minutes.

“What can I do you for?” he asked with a jolly smile.

Marcus chuckled to himself, and then said “You see that spitfire down there?” Marcus said gesturing to Sam.

“What is she bothering you?  I can kick her out if you want, she already accosted a few customers who’ve hit on her.” Mike replied.

Marcus waved his hand “No, nothing like that, I want you to send her a Starfruit Sunrise drink with a flower and big pink umbrella in it to her from our table.”

Mike’s smile disappeared “You heard about the liquor right?”

“Yeah, that will make it even funnier.” Said Marcus.
Mike looked back at Sam, and then back at Marcus.
 
“You suicidal?”

“Only in the morning” Marcus replied heading back to the table chuckling all the way.  He sat down, and Mela asked “What’s so funny Marcus?  You have a really good time in the Men’s room?”

“Remember those bad judgement calls I made?  Well you’re about to meet one of them.” Marcus said as he raised his voice and said “Hey Corran, incoming”

Sam was indeed heading right to the table pink and yellow sunrise in hand before slamming it down sloshing the drink all over the table.  “Explain” she said before seeing Marcus, her brother, and the rest of Rogue Squadron.

“I’m sorry is that not your favorite drink Sam?  My bad.” Marcus said in a mocking tone.

“Hey Sis” Corran said with a smirk.

Garrett takes a sip of his beer with a quiet chuckle and says "Well hello, looks like things just got interesting."

Re: Rogue Squadron: Rebirth

Garrett sat idly watching the squadron around the table.  Most were well into their second drink, and there was a pile of appetizers piled around that they were all digging into.  He himself was still just nursing his first, watching the rest enjoy themselves.  Mostly enjoy themselves.  One, Mela it looked like, seemed a little too deep into her thoughts.  Garrett sighed as the table burst out in laughter at one of Sam's stories, well, not every attempt could be perfect when you had an entire squadron with you.  He got up, heading toward the back hall.  The tables were really starting to fill up now.  He pushed open the door to the back hall, and found his way to the men's restroom, about halfway to the rear exit.  He started relieving himself and a few seconds later the door opened, and a man from the table near the door to the hallway walked in, he froze, waiting as the man went to another place.  Garrett's mind started racing.  Who?  This couldn't be happening…  Or was he being paranoid?

Finishing up, he washed his hands, and left, making his way back to the restaurant.  He opened the door to the restaurant only to find an empty two person table where one person was sitting before he went back there.  "Aww, frak," he muttered.  "Please, let me be wrong"  He walked casually back to the bar area, sighing away the sudden stress that kicked up his paranoia.  Face after face was registering with him but just getting kicked out.  As he walked back into the bar area, he saw an empty seat where Mela was sitting.  He glanced around quickly, and alarm bells started going off in his head.  Two men dressed for a way too expensive restaurant, but here, at a high table.  And one at the bar with liquor, not watching the broadcasts, but looking at one bottle.  He'd bet the mirror behind the bottles.  Garrett casually made his way back to the table and took the now empty seat next to Sam, across from Corran, and reached across two or three people for his beer.

He took a sip of beer and then asked to nobody in particular, "So uhh, Where'd Mela run off to?"

"She didn't say," Corran answered.  "Why?"

"Huh." Garrett whispered to Sam as he idly swirled his beer around, "Can I borrow your services of wiping the floor with people?"

Corran just butted in, "Something going to happen to her?"

Garrett rolled his eyes as he turned to the Captain, "No.  Something's going to happen to me.  Trying to keep you guys out of it."  He turned back to Sam to see a raised eyebrow in question.  Before Corran could actually ask anything, Garrett answered with a slow sigh, "Man at bar with liquor.  Liquor of all things at this place.  And he's drinking it.  Also watching us in the mirror."  She nodded at the points.  "Bar table behind us has two people with the thousand credit suits, don't look now."  Corran nodded, he could see them, across the table from Garrett and Sam.  "There's a watcher at a back table near the restrooms where Mack's got one of the rear exits.  Those are just who I've found.  Black Sun I'd bet."

"And you want me?" she asked with a little feigned curiousity.

"Well, one versus four that I know of…" Garrett said quietly, taking another short sip of his beer.

"Black Sun…" she said with a casual shrug.  "I'm for it.  Why are they interested in you?"

"Simple enough," Garrett answered.  "Before I was working for them," he nodded to Corran.  "I was working for the Coruscant Investigative Branch.  Guess for what."

"I'll make you a deal," she said with a smile.

"Yea?" Garrett said with a suspicious look.

She downed the rest of her pint and set the glass down, "Tell me how a PI not just gets hired to work for Rogue Squadron but gets stolen when we're done and I'll help."  She leaned on the table, the smile had a bit of mischief in it now.

Garrett rolled his eyes with a painful sigh, "You know, you're evil.  Fine.  Deal.  It's a fun story anyway."  He stood, keeping ahold of his beer glass, smirking at Corran.  "Hey Captain, if we're not back in ten minutes, come looking out back."  He pushed the chair in, "Get one of Mack's beer flights, try as close to everything he makes as you dare.  You'll be surprised."  He turned to Sam, "Shall we?"

Garrett led her back behind the bar.  There was a storage room of some size, not where all the taps were maintained, but there were many boxes of bottled beer.  Many, many boxes.  This was the Coruscant room, or so the labels seemed to imply.  The brews bottled from around the planet were stored here, chilled here.  When one of the bars ran out, they were stocked from here.  "Your beer?  Really?" Sam asked as she followed him toward the delivery area in the back.  Garrett just shrugged.  "Whatever."

At the door Garrett stopped, opened the door slightly and looked out. "Let me bait them in." Without waiting for an answer he walked out, behind the door, Mela was standing there, minding her own thoughts.  "Mela?  Huh…uhh…"

"Garrett?" Mela asked.

"Things are about to get interesting here," he said in a warning tone.  "You might want to head in…."

"What?" there was a slight bit of confusion this time.

"Black Sun interesting," Garrett explained.

"What the frack?" this time there was a bit more alertness and slightly more of a demand in there.

"Fair enough," Garrett looked up and down the alley.  There were dumpsters, but it was wide enough for delivery vehicles, trash bots, and maintenance crews to maneuver, and certainly tall enough for the same.  People were coming, some dressed nicely, some just dressed for a night at the bar.  "One…two…three…" he counted in one direction and then looked the other way.  "Four…five…huh.  Six."  He shook his head to himself.  "Fracking six…"

"Heads up!" Sam shouted from the bar's storage room.  An unconscious body came flying out of the door and clipped Garrett slightly, spilling just a little bit of beer over his glass as he dodged just enough.  The body slid across the delivery alley as Sam walked out, glancing around quickly, taking a silent count.  "Six more?"

Garrett chuckled as he shook the beer off his hand, "I don't mess around."  He pulled out a comms device that fit in his ear, and tapped the pocket interface itself a few times before pocketing it again.  By now the mobsters had surrounded them,  "One sec guys, I'm calling emergency services."

Garrett looked up slightly at one of them, one in a nice clothing, probably near us, watching us at the table.  "Police won't be here in time to help you," he warned us all, simply.  It was all we needed to know.

Looking up at the man, Garrett smiles, "Oh good, so you're in charge.  Not calling them though, calling an ambulence for you."  The bigger man in a suit was surprised with Garrett's reply, and  had no reply before Garrett continued on.  "Hello," he ignored the gang.  "I'm calling from the alley behind the Ale Trapped on Grid 127 Street 8.  You're gonna find seven thugs…"  Garrett turned back toward back to the leader, pressing the ear piece, cutting the microphone, "You guys aren't offended if I call you thugs are you?"

"It's a job description," Sam added with a shrug.  "It's not an insult."  She had a back to Garrett, watching the others, same with Mela.

"What I was thinking.  Just checking though," Garrett answered.  Garrett tapped his ear piece again, "Yes sir, one hundred percent ser–"  Garrett cut off the talking as the larger mobster charged him.  He took a step back and, holding his beer glass in both hands, he swung like it's a huge stick.  The huge mobster ran straight into the bottom of the glass, thunk, all the while, what was left of the beer, dripped down over his right arm.  The mobster fell on his rear, not quite unconscious, but dizzy.  Shaking the beer off, Garrett kicked him in the face, knocking him out.

All the while, there was something more like a groan from one behind him as he stared down the last one in front of him.  A crack, and then a thud.  More from behind him as both Mela and Sam handled the Black Sun mobsters in violent, noisy fashions.  Garrett glared at the last Black Sun gangster, letting it build up as the man just stared at him nervously.  "Really?!" he demanded.  "You all brought seven people here to mob me, and you don't even…"  Garrett took a threatening step forward, and the man took the same fearful step back, but with a straight face.  "Get out of here."  He waved his hand and turned around, "You're not worth the effort."  He shook the spilled beer off his right wrist and let the rest out of the pint glass, looking at the other two as they stood over the unconscious bodies.  One was draped in the dumpster, the cover slammed on him.  He could hear the man trudging away behind him.  "We good?" he asked.

"We're good," Sam answered, shaking her head as she looked around, still in slight disbelief.  "Seven?" she said to no one in particular.  "So that's why you brought your beer," she said, looking at the thug he'd knocked out with his pint glass.

Garrett ignored her, and continued talking to the Emergency Services Provider, "Believe me now?  Get the damned EMTs here."  He tapped the button to cut the communications and pulled the unit from his ear, and pocketed the unit.  He let out a breath, "Alright, Mack'll cover for us, so let's get back inside.  Luckily it was just the guys getting paid an hourly wage."

"Hourly wage?" Mela asked in a curious tone.

"Actual bounty hunters come on commission," Sam answered.  "And they know how to fight.  But they're greedy, so if one had come, everyone with him would be like who we just fought anyway."

"Yea," Garrett continued as he opened the door for them.  "They never learn to share."

"The cameras?" Mela asked at the doorway.

He gave her a reassuring smile, "Join us at the bar for a story."  As he shut the door behind them, "You look like you can use a bartender to rant to anyway."

Garrett led them back inside through the storage area, as they came out from behind the bar, he gestured at a pair of empty stools, setting his own glass on the bar in front of them.  "I'll keep track of what I give these two for my check," he called down to one of the bartenders.  He just nodded back, as if this wasn't the first time Garrett had played this role for someone.  Garrett wiped his hands off on a moist rag, and then draped it over his shoulder as the two of them took the empty seats.  He pulled out a flashing transmitting device, and, pressing a button, the flashing stopped.  He set it in front of them with a grin, "No cameras were working in the alley."

As Sam picked up the device to look at it, he trekked down to the cooler, pulled out a bottle and popped the top.  It had a picture of a cartoonish Sarlaac on it.  "A taste of home for you," he told Mela, setting the beer in front of her.  "The Sandtooth Ale."  He just got a look from her, as if the idea of a good beer brewed on Tatooine didn't quite mix.  "Trust Mack," Garrett assured her.  "He knows what he's doing when he hunts these brews down."  With a little bit of doubt, she still took it, Garrett turned to Sam.  "And for you?"

Re: Rogue Squadron: Rebirth

While the ambient sounds of the bar – the music, the clinking glasses, the conversation and occasional grunts – were enough to drown out outside noise, the fight that had taken place out back hadn't gone completely unnoticed. Cay frowned as Mela finally showed up again, followed closely by Garrett and Marcus's self-confessed bad judgement call, Sam. Her frown deepened when Garrett took up shop behind the bar. Since when does he bartend, too? She decided to check it out for herself and stood up.

"Getting us another round, Spice?" Corbin teased.

Cay laughed. "You wish. Wasn't all this on our friendly neighborhood NRI agent, anyway?"

"He must have frakkin' deep pockets if he's going to cover all this."

"Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll send another round to the table. Looks like most of you are runnin' dry." She laughed again and approached the bar, leaning her elbows against it as Garrett passed a beer to Sam. His hand covered the label, so Cay missed her chance to figure out what the imposing woman liked to drink. "You bartend now, Mendal?" she asked casually.

Garrett glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "Know a better way to chat with people?" he shrugged, smiling. "What can I get for you?"

Cay grinned. She was already a bit tipsy, and she wanted to know what kind of drink he'd come up with if she let him. "Surprise me."

"Cheater…" he sighed. He pulled an empty glass from the tray under the beers. "Okay, you sure you want me to just surprise you? I don't know your tastes."

"I'm what you see." She started ticking items off with her fingers. "I'm a fiery redhead with the nickname of 'Spice,' I'm good in a fight, and I can handle my alcohol. If that doesn't give you any ideas, I'll be sorely disappointed in your imagination."

"First thing you learn from me about beer," he said as he turned back toward the line of mysteriously unlabeled beers against the wall, "is that it's not about alcohol." He set the glass upside down against something that sprayed water up into it for a second before it stopped. He shook the water out, and he found one of the black pulls somewhere down the line. "It's about the taste," he told her as he started filling the glass with a light-colored beer. "This one's not even brewed here. Somewhere else on planet. Called the Reflection Pale Ale. Usually has a spot on the wall." When it was done, he turned back and set it in front of her. "Little bitter of an aftertaste, not too heavy, good for a hot summer day. You want something heavier, come back for dessert," he said with a smile.

Cay blinked. She hadn't expected such a thorough explanation. And now she was intrigued. She took a cautious sip and let the liquid sit on her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing. "Here I thought you'd take advantage of my offer and mix a completely crazy drink that'd knock me on my ass." She raised her glass. "Cheers to me being wrong, and I don't say that often. This is pretty good."

"I'll recommend that ten to fifteen percent beer to knock you on your ass for the last round during dessert," he smirked.

She snorted a laugh. "If that's the case, are you gonna make sure I get home after that?"

"I'm hurt," he said mockingly. "Truly hurt."

"Guess I'll be asking Corbin to take me home, then." She shook her head. "No, bad idea, he'll be as drunk as I am."

Nearby, Sam cleared her throat. "Didn't you owe me a story, Mendal?"

"Yes, yes, yes, storytime with Garrett…"  he muttered as he got his own glass of the Pale Ale. "So," he began as he took a sip of his own drink, ringing up the orders he'd taken. "How does NRI get interested in thieving a CIB private investigator? Right?"

Sam nodded. Cay tilted her head. "Seriously, how does that happen?"

"Okay, before the actual story, there's two facts to know to have it really line up in your mind." Garrett rang up an appetizer, a bunch of cheese fries, and then he continued, his voice slightly quieter now. "First, I used to be NRI. Second, even before I was NRI, I was ImpInt, so I apparently know things they like." He shrugged. "But that's not the story. That's just the facts."

"So what's the story?" Sam prompted.

"Battle of Coruscant, at some certain part of that nightmare of my life there was… what I'll estimate as four hurricanes rampaging around. Rogue Squadron made one, but weather is weather."  He shrugged again. "My plan was simple: hide. My role in Int was also simple. They were using me to infiltrate gangs anyway. I had no interest in who was actually running the planet as long as I got to stay here." He took a second sip of his beer. "My handler – we'll call him Felix because… Reasons – cut a deal with the gang: escape in exchange for me."

"I can't imagine that made you love the guy," Cay noted dryly.

About that time, a server brought up the plate of cheese fries, and Garrett grabbed a few. "Now, mysteriously I get a call from the gang threatening my family saying be at X by Y time. The usual.  Ironically, a Rebel, Republic, whatever word we choose to use team breaks into my safe house about two minutes later as I'm readying, led by who I'll call May. I manage to get them to a standstill, I think mostly because they're not expecting me there and they'd possibly like someone to interrogate, and I pretty much literally tell them what's happening. I've got no reason to play my loyalties out and if they let me prove it, and if they help me, they'll have someone new on their side."

Sam looked skeptical. "And they took you at your word?"

"Maybe my charm helped? I don't know," he shrugged. "I think I drove the point home when I unlocked the ImpInt server for the one I injured to explore to his heart's content as the rest of us went to play Rescue the Family."

Cay's forehead creased in worry. "They were okay, I hope?"

He nodded. "We saved the family, captured Felix, killed a good number of the gang, and then NRI had a lot of fun with their callsign." Garrett chuckled. "Turn Coat." He raised his glass in toast. Spice insinctively raised her glass in response. Then he set his down, grabbed a napkin, and started writing on it with an old fashioned pen he always carried around. "My dad's an engineer. Someone like you might recognize the company…" He folded it and slid it across the counter.

Spice unfolded the napkin. Her eyes widened slightly, Scrapyard Engineering. "These are the guys that mess with the designs for our X-Wing blasters. Other fighters, too. No credit given… none asked." She tore the napkin up. "They make it just a little cheaper and better than the planets and companies that come up with the initial designs." She frowned. "You know… that night might be why… huh…"

Garrett shrugged. "No production, just design and tweaking."

Sam wasn't buying it yet, though. "Your story is far from over. That just explains the NRI part."

"Ever see a person that doesn't get tired of NRI's bureaucracy?" he asked. "Unless they live in it anyway?"

The blonde woman half-smiled. "You have a point."

"At some point a few years ago for Reasons and Reasons and Reasons," he said as he munched a few fries, "I quit the NRI. They did what they do for their field agents and gave me an equivalent resume that…you know…won't do bad things. I was black ops after all. I'm now a licensed PI with a few tricks up my sleeve, and the CIB employs me on cases."  He leaned forward with a smirk. "NRI's tried to hire me plenty of times. They really don't have a lot of former ImpInt agents. Especially ones they consider loyal. Since I'm not really interested enough in working for them, I throw a sizable figure at them. For them to bite, they have to really need me. That… is something I can't go into, obviously."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you. Teasing us with these details you can't share," Cay mock-pouted.

"I'm not teasing you, thanks," he smiled.

Sam's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at Spice's interruption, who raised her hands in surrender. "Please, continue," Cay added before sipping from her beer.

"But yeah, let's just say they consider me necessary enough for this… event." He smirked. "I get paid."

"No wonder you can afford to put an evening out with a bunch of pilots on your tab," Cay noted. "I hope you're worth what they're paying you," she teased. Inwardly, though, she felt a little apprehensive. She didn't like the thought of the complications having someone like Mendal along represented.

"Hope I'm worth it? Please, you love the idea that the NRI is getting ripped off and you know it."

Spice nodded. "Aren't we technically on the same side, though?" she wondered aloud. "We rely on good intel to keep us alive when we go into battle. I don't want them wasting money."

"Of course we are," he winked. "Thing is, I'm only paid by the NRI. I'm a contractor, not actually part of them, not actually bound by some of their crazier rules that forces some information to go through certain officers before it hits who it should've." He set his beer in between them. "Think about that for a minute. Contractor field agent, not NRI. I work for you, and with you. I get you your information. Not your NRI rep."

"So we get what we need when we need it," Cay summarized. "I like the sound of that."

"Good, now, who's got the next story?" he smiled.

As much as I want Sam to spill her side of the story with Marcus, I'm so not poking that beehive, Cay thought. "None of my adventures are nearly as interesting as yours," she said dramatically.

"I've had uhh… time."

"Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I haven't done crazy things!" Cay belatedly realized she'd just forced herself to tell a story. A good one. Dammit. "Sure, I could've stuck with my parents' business back on Leria Kerlsil, but them being well off meant they could afford to get me trained to fly by the best in the business. I learned how to make an X-Wing dance and eventually got an officer commission, but that didn't mean I was the best squadmate." She chuckled. "You know I was a 'Rat before I landed a sweet spot in the Rogues, and believe me, I deserved to be a 'Rat back then."

"Sounds like fun times already," he smiled. "In fact, sounds a little bit like my first few years.  Let's hear the good times roll." He shoved the plate over to her encouragingly.

Cay laughed. "Don't mind if I do." She snatched a handful of fries and didn't bother waiting until she'd finished chewing to continue speaking. To hell with manners; they were in a bar. "The 'Rat tradition of hazing new members was overlooked by the higher-ups, but that wasn't true for every squadron. I got a good initiation when I first joined Silver Squadron, but they gave me the easy task of switching out the CO's whiskey for a better vintage I happened to bring from home. Even if I got caught in the process – which I did – I had a good bribery tool for not actually getting into trouble. Of course, the two guys who joined up a few weeks after me weren't so lucky. Hindsight shows that's because I didn't bother to ask what anyone else had planned; I just took it upon myself to come up with something because I figured it was my turn."

Garrett hid a smile behind taking another drink of beer.  "I like this already," he commented.

"I told them to mess with the crew chief's toolbox. He'd pissed me off earlier that day, and I knew he had a favorite hydrospanner and a few other things. I wanted that hydrospanner." She shook her head at herself. "I soon learned that you never mess with your ground support crew. Not when it comes to their tools. When the two newbies got caught, they outed me instantly, and I got reprimanded by my CO, by my veteran squadmates, and by the vice admiral in charge of the entire base."

"Well, wow," Garrett muttered. "The fleet officer took interest?"

Cay straightened her shoulders and puffed her chest, trying to imitate the officer's attitude. "These men and women keep your fighter in the air. They make sure you can rely on your ship to keep you alive in a fight and get you back here in one piece. You must take their jobs as seriously as your own, and that includes the tools they use." She smiled wryly. "It didn't help that the crew chief was his nephew."

Garrett shook his head and rolled his eyes. "How… what's the word? I don't know."  He shrugged, "The man apparently can't even let squadrons run themselves when it involves family. Anyway."

"Just shows I really know how to pick them. Or how not to," she chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Didn't stop me from finding other ways to haze newbies or otherwise mess around. I just never messed with the ground crew again. But don't worry! I'm a Rogue now. I've mended my old ways." Her eyes twinkled.

"Yeah, that just means you go after the CO himself now."

Cay shot a glance at Corran over her shoulder. "I think I'll hold off on that. For now. As long as Corbin's around, I've got an easy target, anyway."

"I heard that!" Corbin called out. "Where's that round you promised?"

"Get your lanky, lazy ass over here and order something if you want it," Garrett ordered with a grin.

Cay burst out laughing. "Yeah, you tell him, bartender!" She then stuck her tongue out at her squadmate.

Corbin grumbled good-naturedly before he melodramatically rose from his seat and approached the bar, the others at the table calling out their desired drinks in his wake.